TA LK CYCLING

Active Travel England, the new cycling and walking body, can bring sanity, says Rob Ainsley

Irecently did an activity week with friends in the Peak District. We hiked, swam, kayaked, cycled. We hadn’t seen each other for ages and had plenty to discuss. Important things, such as England’s batting woes, misnumbered OS Landranger maps and marmalade recipes. Also routine things like money concerns, relationships and mortality.

It proved interesting research for finding the best circumstances to talk stuff over. I’m not dissing psychoanalysis; £100 per hour for therapy may be good value for some. But for me, talking through problems with understanding and supportive friends while doing something outdoorsy is far preferable. Even if an hour in Hathersage’s amazing outdoor heated pool works out almost as expensive.

Different activities suited different types of conversation. Confessionals were well suited to a walk, perhaps thanks to the intimacy of woods or riverside paths. Our and-another-thing rants were well served by pubs, cafes or domestic dinners, where steam could be humorously let off amid jokey repartee. But the choppy rhythms of waterborne exercise, where you’re constantly breaking off to tackle an eddy or avoid another swimmer, only really worked for a series of remarks, not a narrative.

What worked best for in-depth discussions was, of course, cycling. It’s no wonder that passing riders are usually chatting. The snatches of dialogue we heard en passant made for fascinating listening on the Peaks’ trails and lanes:

‘...When they let me go it felt like disaster, but it’s been the best thing since Wolverhampton...’

‘...And now she’s getting up to £150 in tips per night, without any of the hassles...’

‘...So I told him about my feelings for Claire, and you know, he took it so well, very understanding...’

And so on. We had our own in-depth sessions too, of course. Want to mull something over? Forget wine. Ride round Ladybower, Derwent and Howden Reservoirs in Derbyshire on a Sunday: a three-hour trip, almost all car-free thanks to the road portion being closed that day every week. Plenty of side-byside space to go over things at your own pace. Plans, fears, hopes, regrets, pride, whatever: as you ride, your story unfolds of its own accord.

On a bike there are no awkward silences. If you’ve said all you need, or want to let something sink in, you just keep quiet and keep pedalling. The forward movement gives the sense of progress both physical and mental. At Bamford Clough – a newly paved 37 per cent gradient near Ladybower – I didn’t quite cope with the literal uphill struggle, but I successfully tackled a metaphorical one I’d been worrying over (thanks for listening, Mark).

The mental and social health aspect of riding is under-celebrated. Not only a gym on wheels, it’s a mobile therapy couch too. Twelve sessions with a shrink, or a new bike? I know my answer.

All this affects what facilities we should be demanding from Active Travel England, the new body based in York that promotes cycling and walking. Two-abreast routes are vital not just for avoiding conflict between non-motorised path users, but also giving us social space. Not just informal psychiatry sessions, but everyday wellbeing. The sanity dividend. Parent and child interactions. Stopping to chat to friends. Servicing your own relationships.

Or, indeed – if you’re Chris Boardman, caretaker head of the organisation – chatting with locals who can inform him of problems with and ambitions for infra for people on bikes, on foot, in wheelchairs, with buggies, and so on.

Welcome to York, Chris. There’s plenty to do, and it’s a good place to start. If we bump into each other on a path there, let’s have a talk...

“Want to mull something over? Forget wine. Ride round Ladybower, Derwent and Howden reservoirs”