Spot the unregistered bike: Anti-theft paint jobs

Cycle theft in York is down, according to a meeting on the subject I went to this week. (Amusingly, there wasn't proper cycle parking, just a bit of chain.)

But one of the biggest problems the police face is that of unmarked bikes. There are several dodgy, lockup-garage bike dealers they have their eye on, who flog machines of dubious provenance through Gumtree and eBay using only mobile phone numbers.


When they turn up at said lockup making polite enquiries, however, none of the bikes there register on any database, so there's no proof they've been half-inched.

The local register in York is called Operation Spoke - there are regular free registration sessions - and this automatically puts you onto the national Immobilise database.

Hmm; it's no guarantee, as I know from having my Immobilise-registered bike nicked in Twickenham. The police there showed as much interest as if I'd lost a packet of fags in the pub. I never saw it again. But worth doing nevertheless.

Anyway, the owner of this MTB, spotted - literally - at York market this morning, has set up his own bike-marking scheme: vibrant yellow spattered onto jungle green.

How much use this will be in assisting the police if it gets abducted to a lockup I don't know, but it looks striking. No doubt the York heritage lobby will try to stop it.

Peak soil: Gardener's cargo bike is what I need

This cargo bike loomed out York's fog yesterday. Presumably it's just locked up while the eco-gardener owner is on the job, rather than standing around as an ad, or serving as a planter.

I wrote a recent article for the CTC magazine on how cargo bikes are thriving in London, where they deliver faster, more flexibly and cheaper than cars. I've also featured cargo bikes on this blog related to my interests, such as beer and cake.

And a cargo bike is just what I need, to let me cycle through York's 'pedestrianised' city centre. Because, contrarily, it excludes bikes, but seems to allow plenty of motor traffic for 'deliveries'.

So, with a cargo bike, I can happily cycle through those winding medieval lanes to buy a plug from Barnitt's, on the pretext that I'm 'delivering'.

Well, a lot of the cars seem to be pulling the same trick.

Smug recyclist: York's bike-friendly dump

An intriguing sign in York's James St.

What happens to discarded pedestrians and worn-out cyclists? Do they get dismantled for parts and raw materials?

Don't think my liver has much resale value, but the brain's hardly been used.


Of course, it means 'recycling for', not 'recycling of'. This being York, the main Recycling Facility has a special area for walking and bike access.

So you don't have to mix it with lorries and vans, like we used to have to in Southwark. That makes the business of throwing all those bottles and cans into the skip more enjoyable. ('We just, um, had a party, honest.')

Which is just as well. Science is welcome to my body, but I think the bike will fetch more on eBay.

Rebel without a causeway: Cramond Island's wet road

Cramond Island, just five miles or so from central Edinburgh, is a kind of mini-Lindisfarne: a small isle connected to the mainland by a narrow concrete causeway.

Most of the time the causeway is under water (right).


But for a couple of hours at low tide (right), when the waters recede, it's perfectly cyclable.

Go when the surface is just submerged and you can skim over the top like you're cycling on water. (Probably best done when tide is going out.)

That said, there's no particular reason for cycling all the way over to the uninhabited islet. Except that you can, so this week I did.


Cramond, like all tidal islands, thrives on stories of careless travellers who get stuck by the tide.

Recent notable examples include a party of Facebook partyers and a man called Daniel Defoe.

No helicopter rescue needed for me. I cycled back along the waterside path to Leith, then along the Water of Leith Closed For Improvements Path to central Edinburgh, then past the Occupy Edinburgh campsite in St Andrew's Square.


This inspired me to stage my own sit-in: Occupy Wetherspoons, which I did until my train home.

Fans of cycling fords and tidal causeways can find examples at wetroads.co.uk, which lists and rates just about every example in the UK.

Scottish Parliament's cycle parking takes shape

I was in Edinburgh this week, where the cycle campaign Spokes has just reported that there are more cyclists and fewer drivers in the city than ever.

It was hard for me to tell - I was too busy negotiating the tram-disaster roadworks in Princes St - but I was intrigued by these cycle racks.

They're splendidly situated in front of Arthur's Seat, which used to be a volcano; perhaps Arthur was too fond of the curried haggis.


The view the other way is the equally splendid Scottish Parliament building.

There I passed a happy hour spectating the Health and Sport Committee taking evidence on the Welfare Reform Bill legislative consent memorandum LCM(S4)5.1.


But the most distinctive thing is the shape of cycle racks, which have a touch of the Miró about them.

I wasn't quite sure how to lock my bike to any of them, to be honest.

Perhaps the absent-minded twisting of a few paper clips, during a particularly dull meeting of the Health and Sport Committee, was mistaken for maquettes of the new facility?

(Update: The mystery is partially solved by Tom's comment below... but only partially...)

Man and van... and bike?

I'm not a fan of people using bikes as ad hoardings - there's little enough cycle rack space as it is in most city centres.

But this one, in Briggate in Leeds on Saturday morning, was intriguing. Why is a Man and Van advertising on a bike?


Presumably it's target-market psychology: the manandvan customer is likely to include the person who cycles everywhere - just the sort of person who would notice a parked-bike advert.

And blog about how they're not a fan of people using bikes as ad hoardings.

(Actually, it is possible to move house by bike, as I know from doing so twice this year. But it needs a trailer and a lot of journeys.)

Xmas every night on York's Millennium Bridge

The festive lights get switched on this Thursday evening in York - but it's Christmas every night on the splendid Millennium Bridge, over the Ouse on the southern edge of the city centre.

The peds'n'bikes-only bridge is lit up at dusk in gradually shifting colours.

It's quite a romantic place to stop and enjoy, say, a knock-down trifle from the supermarket over the road.


It's constantly busy with cyclists (and, being York, you only have to wait a few minutes for a tandem) and dog walkers.

When a white dog passes, the lights make them glow trippily in green, pink, turquoise and lemon. Our Sainsburys trifle looked pretty psychedelic, too.