RSF - The Off Road Cycling Club

The Adventure Starts Here


"I've never met anybody who regretted taking a long ride. But I've met many who regretted not doing one". Moods of Future Joys - Alistair Humphreys


All content in the journals is copyright either of the RSF or the author or indeed both. It's use without permission will result in a stiff memo. If you would like to use an article or images please contact the general secretary in the first instance

1975 Jan-Feb Vol 20 No.1

Positioned comfortably, we left home in Barnard’s Green, Malvern, and took the road across Malvern Common. Numerous lambs skipping about in the sunshine attracted my attention here. As we passed the Three Counties Show Ground, the view of the Hills (which is always with you as you ride in this area) was admired. Continuing along the B4208, a cry “Pigs!” brought us to a halt by a farm. I peered at them for some time and listened to their strange grunts. How they seemed to enjoy all that mud!

1975 March-April Vol 20 No.2

The little market town of Settle is an ideal cycling centre, for in every direction there is a maze of minor roads and tracks. To the south and west is the fertile Ribble Valley with several pleasant villages on its flanks, whilst to the west of the valley, is the Forest of Bowland, a region of narrow secluded valleys and wild treeless moorland. East and north of Settle are the Craven Highlands, which are perhaps the most varied and interesting of the Pennines.

1975 May-June Vol 20 No.3

Not hard perhaps by some standards, but propelling a well laden tandem on our second day out on tour had taken its toll. Besides, the weather had been glorious, and over the Drovers Road we seemingly had the whole world to ourselves, and those crystal clear pools had been irresistible for Mum and Dad as well as for the children. The big mistake though, had been to mix it with Joanne (10) and Janet (14). Their energy and stamina and swimming and chasing were now definitely superior to mine

1975 July-Aug Vol 20 No.4

I could hear Jim muttering things under his breath as the deer moved slowly away up the hill. He was carefully stalking them with a long tele photo lens—an awkward thing to carry at any time, and more so when one is crawling through short heather trying to become invisible. My own nose was buried in the heather too, as I lay, almost afraid to breathe, so wary are these animals. We were deep in the heart of the Atholl estates in a lush, green valley with brindled hills all around.

1975 Sept-Oct Vol 20 No.5

I quickly realised that further progress was to be subject to the approval of a beautifully made highland bull, backed up by an admiring half-circle of lady friends and young calves. In the words of a well known comedian, “not a pretty sight”. I resolutely looked the beast in the eye, unlatched the gate and opened it a full six inches, the response being heavy breathing, a shake of the head and urgent pawing of the ground.

1975 Nov-Dec Vol 20 No.6 (Index)

I was last out and just as I got to the gate I heard a shrill voice behind me shouting “Hey you, come here, come here”. I stopped and was confronted by a very old lady in shabby working clothes and two dogs, and I immediately arranged so that the tandem was between them and me. The old lady came up to me wagging an admonishing finger “Do you know you are trespassing? Who are you?” I could see the situation required a bit of diplomacy.....

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