I am posting this here in the hope that when I solve this latency problem Ableton others will find this post and be able to also solve the latency problem for themselves.
I have exhausted the knowledgebase on the Ableton site and the user help section is now closed. I'm at the stage that if I can't fix this I'll have to abandon Live and go to Logic, which is not what I want to do.
I have an infuriating latency echo, even on a brand new project with no plugins loaded at all. I have been using Live for years but have not had this problem before. No hardware or software changes have happened recently.
Here's where I am:
Ableton 10 Suite
macOS High Sierra 10.13.6
Mac Pro (mid 2010)
Memory 32gb 1333 MHz DR3
1tb SSD system drive
Graphics NVIDIA GeForce GTX 680 2048mb
2nd gen Focusrite 6i6. I have updated the control software, the drivers and the firmware.
I have tried all buffer sizes.
Latency does not exist in any other bit of software on my computer, all of which route out through the Focusrite interface.
I have tried reinstalling Ableton.
The problem persists regardless of the size of the sample I'm playing, the device I'm using (hardware and software) and also happens with live microphones.
The Ipswich Gigs website has been run by me, and only me, since about 2003. Mostly. When Facebook came along it made Ipswich Gigs redundant for a few years. Then the reach of events on Facebook dropped through the floor so I started the website up again. It's a not inconsiderable amount of work to keep the site up to date, but (at first) all the local promoters and bands used to let me know what was going on.
By 2019 the mailing list had dwindled from over 3,000 to just 500, and less than 10% of email recipients were actually reading the gig listing emails I sent out every week. To be fair, some local promoters got really good at promoting their events, not just on Facebook but on other social platforms and *gasp* by actually putting up posters and handing out flyers at gigs! Some venues (like The Smokehouse in Ipswich) also got really good at promoting themselves. Fantastic!
By 2020 running the site was becoming a losing battle. In an attempt to revitalise Ipswich Gigs I started covering events in nearby towns, which brought in the lively scene in Bury St.Edmunds and amazing venues like The John Peel Centre in Stowmarket and Colchester Arts Centre. But the visits to the site, the size of the mailing list and the number of promoters I could get gig details from dwindled to a trickle. Then with the COVID-19 Pandemic in March 2020 the trickle stopped, er, 'trickling' and ceased entirely.
COVID meant I had six months off running the Ipswich Gigs. It was only when (for the worst reasons) I had a break from running the site that I realised just how much work it was. I work for myself and have reached the point where I just can't justify the time or expense of running a website that it appears very few people either need or use. It's not just resource-drag on my time maintaining the gig listings and trying to promote the site, it's also the hassle of maintaining a website that is constantly under attack from hackers. Not just a few, but thousands a week. It's nothing personal on the part of the hackers; the site runs on Wordpress and has been a going concern since 2003, so it's a 'legitimate target' as far as ner-do-wells are concerned.
So that's it. I've had enough. It has been 17 years of running this site by myself and something needs to change. I've reached this point before and asked for help, but nobody came forward.
I'm not mincing off by shutting the site, I've just tried everything within my power to make it work and I have to face the reality that it's just not needed any more. In fact even to me the concept of going to a website that serves a single purpose these days just seems a bit, well, antiquated.
On a more positive note, I will continue to update the Ipswich Gigs Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and Reddit profiles. So feel free to follow whichever of those suits you.
My mate Avi Kniznik has started a proper bagel bakery right here in Suffolk. Avi was born in Toronto and grew up there, but moved to the UK when he was in his twenties. He lived next door to me for many years and was always into baking and cooking. I was fortunate enough to be a test subject for some of his baking experimentations.
So when Avi told me he was starting a business making and selling proper bagels I wasn't surprised. In fact I was thrilled. I've been chatting to Avi on the phone a lot recently about his new bagel business and the fillings he's doing are things I've not seen outside of the east end of London. Home-cured salt beef being one of the most notable. There are plenty of vegan options available too. I was quite inspired by Avi's decision to start a bagel business so I interviewed him for my new podcast, you can hear that episode here...
So no matter where in the UK you live, I heartily recommend you buy yourself some proper bagels from Avi (via his website), you won't be disappointed!
Many years ago I used to work in the grain lab at a large company who shall remain nameless (they're near Woodbridge). I was a temporary worker each summer, for about four months during the harvest. It was my job to climb onto the trucks and take samples and whatnot. That bit was okay.
When there were no trucks coming in it was my job to 'level' the grain mountains in the stores. These were hanger size buildings and the grain mountains were around 80,000 tons. It was our job to convert the mountain into a sort of plateau. If the grain was stored in a mountain rather than a plateau it would overheat and rot.
Moving around 40,000 tons of barley or wheat was not nice. Especially in warm weather. For safety we had to wear wearing rubber waders (giant gum boots) and a face mask. We used shovels to sort of shove the grain around. You started the job crouched in the narrow gap between the top of the grain mountain and the roof of the warehouse / hanger. At this height, this close to the roof the heat was unbearable. Not in a 'ooh that's a bit hot' kinda way, but in a 'I've opened an oven door but can't close it again' kind of way. The considerable heat rising from the grain wasn't much fun either.
We took a thermometer into a store with us once and it maxed out in seconds. Levelling grain was the nearest to actual hell I think I've ever experienced, and I once fell of a fast moving car and gouged the skin my face and back.
The heat mixed with the dust in the stores turned our skin red raw. No amount of anti-histamines would offer any relief from the horrific itching.
After two summers I learned that the fella who operated the conveyor belt that unloaded the trucks had the ability to use the hydraulics on the conveyor to ensure the gain was distributed evenly. He just choose not to.
I asked the conveyor operator why he didn't use the little lever that existed expressly to move the end of the conveyor in a sweeping motion, so the grain didn't end up as a mountain. He just sort of shrugged and wandered off. This one person and his apparent laziness caused hundreds of man hours of pointless, hellish labour. Backbreaking, hot, itchy, unbearable work that was so bad I dare say it convinced me that not only was manual labour 'not for me', but it also made me realise that I never wanted to have a job that was futile ever again.
Hard work doesn't phase me. Pointless hard work that is very easily avoidable phases me considerably. I did that job two summers in a row.
For eight months over two years I wore that mask, schlepped around in waders and suffered needlessly. So if you are going to tell me wearing a mask when you go shopping is a hardship, you will not get any agreement from me.
Life is good, but sometimes a little more challenging than at other times. This video shows the catalytic converter being stolen from my car. At 7.20pm on the night of Wednesday the 2nd October 2019. It took around two minutes.
Pending any insurance payout this has cost me £520 and two days of a lot of hassle. Since we moved to this street 19 years ago a few challenging things have happened. A few years ago my car was written off when someone drove into it and then left the scene (they did come back eventually).
Every single car we've owned has been vandalised repeatedly. You might have seen the videos I posted a while back showing the multiple times our milk was stolen from the doorstep. There was once a police chase through our garden.
A couple of years ago someone even stole the brass numbers from our front door. There's quite a long list of, admittedly fairly low key hassles, that we've experienced since we moved in.
Over the years we've seen and heard quite a few altercations in the street. Some more serious than others.
So why do we still live here?
Some of our best and closest friends ever live in the two houses next to us. We have made friends with lots of the great people who live on our street. Neighbours have helped us out too many times to remember. Often the introduction we've had to one of our neighbours was when they were doing a good deed without fanfare. When our daughter was born neighbours who we had never met before knitted clothes for her and made it clear that if there was anything we needed they would gladly help out.
We have enjoyed bonfires and all sorts of get-togethers over the years. The walk to, or from, our front door is frequently augmented by cheerful conversations with the great people who live in the houses surrounding ours.
We have a great Facebook Group used by the people who live on our street. Everyone is incredibly helpful to each other, but the Facebook Group is just one example of the warm neighbourhood spirit here.
So when negative things happen, as they do on any street anywhere, and people roll their eyes and talk shit about Old Stoke they can only be commenting on the small number of negative aspects of life here. There is so much positivity, community and support on this long road of small Victorian Terraces that I feel blessed to live here. This is a good place.
Huel Discount vouchers can be a little tricky to come by. Each time you search for one you'll find tons of coupon codes for the USA. But this code is exclusively for the UK.
Click the link below and enter 'Andrew Laws' when asked the name of the person who referred you. You will get £10 off your first order. You will also get a free drinks bottle and free tee shirt from Huel so it's pretty good value!
Huel is loved by many people because it's so convenient, but there's more to it than that for me. I have very little time in the mornings when trying to get my daughter ready for school so the convenience does help me. But I also kinda hate eating breakfast. I know I need to but nothing I ever tried sat right in my belly so early in the morning. I can quite happily sip at Huel and it sustains me until lunchtime. I have IBS so that informs my choice of some foods. Huel is a positive choice I make. It's also pretty bloomin' delicious!
Five years ago I started a cycling website called VeloBalls.com and I've got to say, it was pretty great. It also spawned a cycling discounts site called Lucky8. A whole ton of brilliant people wrote blog posts and reviews for VeloBalls.com and for a few years it was bipping along nicely.
But is is the way of these things interest dried up a bit, both from the visiting public and from the contributors. Now five years later I find myself busier than ever with the company I run and sadly VeloBalls.com has gone to seed a bit. So I've taken the bum decision to shut it down. Below are links to archived versions of some of our most popular posts.
Tonight at around 8pm I will leave Hackney on my bicycle,
joining me will be an estimated 3000 other cyclists. We’re heading for
Dunwich in Suffolk, we’ll probably get there between 5am and 11am. But
why?
Dunwich Dynamo – phwaaaat?
The Dunwich Dynamo (a.k.a the ‘Dun Run’) is an entirely unplanned,
unofficial, unsupported and marvelous ride from Hackney in London to
Dunwich. As to why it happens each year, well that’s a bit like asking
why Starlings marshall in epic numbers before migration, why Wildebeest
stampede or why people like riding 25kg Boris bikes through London. On
the closest Saturday to the first full-moon in July each year the
natural phenomena that is the Dunwich Dynamo just kinda happens. It may
have been an organised ride once, but it was so long ago it probably
doesn’t matter. A bit like how we know the Olympics used to be
participated in by athletes who were start-bollock-naked, but it doesn’t
have much bearing on the modern games. Thankfully. But then that’s
what us cyclists like isn’t it? Enjoying long bike rides is a bit like
finding a band that none of your mates have heard of, then declaring
them as the best band ever. If that band then hits the top spot we’re
horribly chuffed that we heard them first!
Dunwich Dynamo – phhhwwyyy?
Every rider has their reasons, and if I’m honest with you I’d have to
admit I’m not really sure why I think that riding 148 miles through the
night is a good idea (the route is 120 miles, but I cycle back to
Ipswich from Dunwich afterwards). When non-cycling (‘normal’) people
find out that I’m planning to forgo sleep to pedal halfway across the
country their first question is usually a confused babble of vowels and
guttural sounds while they attempt to wrap their minds around the
distance. The second question / assertion is surely I must be doing
this for charity? The reply that I’m not doing this to raise money
tends to result in the questioner reverting back to the aforementioned
mumbling confusion. I imagine I’d get much the same reaction if I told
friends I was going to attempt to carry out my own vasectomy using
nothing more than an olive-pitter and a toffee hammer.
If you created a scale that had expensive highly organised Sportives
at one end of the scale, and Critical Mass at the other then you’d find
the Dun Run sitting somewhere in the middle, probably with a can of beer
in hand.
I guess there probably are some riders taking on the Dun Run as an
opportunity to raise some charity cash, and chapeau to them, but the
vast majority of participants seem to be in it for nothing more than the
job of a longish bike ride with thousands of like-minded souls. And
that’s one of the many things that separates the Dun Run from expensive
sportives or any other type of organised ride, there are no aims other
than getting to the coast. Nobody stuffs themselves silly at the rest
stops to try and make sure they ‘eat-back’ their entrance fee. There
are (almost no) chain gangs gunning it for a record-breaking time.
Dun Run – don’t let lack of experience put you off!
The Dunwich Dynamo is such a relaxed ride I often recommend people
take it on as their first 100 mile ride. There may not be technical
support from mobile mechanics, but if you have a problem you can be sure
as hell someone will help you out. If you’re not sure you have the
legs for the miles then you’ll be amazed how well the community spirit
of the ride will sweep you along.
I could rattle on endlessly but in many ways (and in-spite of the
HUGE numbers of riders) the joy of riding the Dunwich Dynamo is actually
quite a personal thing. So instead I’ll leave you with some links that
might help get you hyped about joining us all next year.
About the author
Andrew Culture is a professional writer and reviewer who has been
writing about everything to do with bikes and cycling for many years.
Andrew is also a musician and award-winning zine author.
I like to ride my bicycle. That much is clear. After all, that’s why I
started VeloBalls. I like using my single speed for transport around
town and I like bimbling around the Suffolk countryside on my geared
bike. But what I really like is cycling adventures.
Recently I’ve been getting a bit fed up with the whole going in a
circle of local rides and I’ve been itching to cycle on roads I haven’t
ridden a hundred times before. I quite like sportives, but paying good
money to cycle the same roads I ride for free is losing it’s appeal.
Riding with large groups of people is great, but sportives can occasionally get a bit competitive and Critical Mass rides
aren’t very easy for me to get to. So to summarise I think it’s fair to
say my cycling had hit a rut. Albeit not a literal rut (thankfully).
Earlier this year my London-based cycling companion (and VeloBalls contributor) Sam
asked if I fancied doing some cycling on the continent. I asked which
one, he replied ‘Europe’ and I figured why the hell not. This wouldn’t
be cycling for the sake of cycling, we would be attending a punk rock
festival called Brakrock in Belgium.
I think most British cyclists know the tales of how the cycle paths
in Holland are paved with gold, so I wanted to take a look for myself.
Well not gold perhaps, that would be slippery, but certainly if the
rumours were true they are paved to a gold standard.
There are many reasons that the Netherlands appears to be a haven for
cyclists. Those reasons can partly be explained by facts. My favourite
fact is that there are more bicycles in Holland than there are people.
17.1 million people live in the Netherlands, and there an estimated 22.5
million bikes. The people of Holland don’t just like their bikes, they
are the N+1 personified.
The miles and the damage done.
It’s really easy to agree to a long bike ride when it’s set for a
faraway date. The ride was shaping up to be 80 miles from the Hook of
Holland to Antwerp, then another 8 or 9 miles from where we were staying
to the festival. It may sound like a humblebrag, but I’m kinda okay
with doing 80 miles on a bike. I’ll feel it, and it will be tough, but
it’s just about inside my comfort zone.
I’ve done rides that were around the 150 mile mark, like the year I rode the Dunwich Dynamo
and got lost. But the most hardcore rides I’ve done have had an element
of external pressure on them. The Dunwich Dynamo is through the night
and the last few sportives I’ve done have been beset by foul weather and
too many hills in the last few miles (when my legs are blown). The last
long ride I did (90 miles from London Liverpool Street to Ipswich)
was spoiled to a certain extent by heavy motor traffic. This turned
what should be a leisurely ride into what felt like a death race against
too many impatient drivers. You know the type, they’ll patiently wait
behind you for a hundred yards or so before getting frustrated and
squeezing past you despite the oncoming traffic. No fun.
So the prospect of 80 miles on flat roads, with no hills, in a
country where the population doesn’t just tolerate cyclists (because
they are cyclists) was very appealing. But as the date of the adventure
drew closer I started to get a bit anxious about whether I could hack
not just one ride, but two long rides with a punk rock festival in the
middle. I don’t ride as often as I would like, but then I guess that
applies to all cyclists. After all, we need jobs to buy food and bike
parts. But I wanted to not just survive this ride, I wanted to ace it.
Unfortunately a series of mild injuries dented my preparation, but I was
determined to ride in style. Well, as much style as a gentleman of my
stature can muster while crammed into Italian lycra and balancing on a
thin bike.
The original plan was for Sam to join me in at my home in Ipswich. We
would then cycle ten miles to nearby Shotley, and then catch the foot
ferry across the mouth of the River Stour and Orwell to the Port of
Harwich. But unfortunately the foot ferry didn’t work out so we took the
train to Harwich.
‘S’ is for Sam. Or Stena.
Getting onto the ferry was very simple. We tied up our bikes below
deck, along with about fifty other cyclists, and headed to our tiny
cabin for a good night’s sleep. The ferry left at 11pm and arrived at
the Hook of Holland at 8am. I have no idea why the crossing took so
long, it certainly doesn’t look very far on a map. But hey, you’re not
reading this post for details on shipping.
Cycling in Holland, the reality.
You will probably get a strong feel for what cycling in Holland is like
from the first thing I’m going to tell you about it. Out of the 80 miles
we planned to travel only a small handful of miles would be on standard
roads. I say ‘standard’ by way of explaining that these few miles would
involved cycling on roads that also have motor vehicles on. This may
seem like a strange point to make, but a lot of the cycle paths in
Holland are as big as standard roads here in the UK.
The majority of cycle paths we used were smooth concrete or
cheerfully coloured tarmac. But just as many of the routes were made up
of brick paving, rough tiles or even cobbles.
It was great being so far away from motor traffic, but it only took a
few miles to realise that I was probably on the wrong sort of bike for
Holland. My 23mm tires and sportive geometry frame was quite
uncomfortable for many of the rougher paths. We saw almost no road bikes
during our time in either Holland or Belgium, almost everyone rides
either mountain bikes or ‘sit up and beg’ style bikes.
Sam was riding a very tasty Titanium framed bike he had just built. I was riding a Bianchi
frame I found on ebay for £30, surrounded by and mis-matched assortment
of bits and bobs, some of which came from the spares boxes of the
legendary Ipswich Bike Doctor (Kevin, to his friends).
The generous number of cycle routes through Holland wasn’t the
biggest surprise to me. I was expecting them. What came as a pleasant
shock was just how well thought out the routes are at places where they
cross paths with motorised traffic. When a cycle route crosses a road
junction the cyclists have priority and motorists are obliged to give
way. This was great enough, but what really struck me was how cool the
motorists were with this arrangement.
Perhaps it’s because so many motorists in the Netherlands are
probably also cyclists. Therefore maybe they have a greater affinity and
empathy with cyclists than some motorists in the UK have. In the
Netherlands cycling is the norm. Here in the UK one would be forgiven
for assuming the population assumes cycling is something only children
do. Perhaps cycling is seen as a phase that everyone goes through before
they can legally drive, at which point they abandon cycling for their
cars.
The space given to us as cyclists in Holland extended beyond mere
legal obligation on the part of the drivers. At one point I became
separated from Sam when he crossed a dual carriageway. The driver of the
car that came between us actually stopped and ushered me across so I
could rejoin Sam. Not only was I very grateful (because Sam had the
map), I was also forced to realise that I don’t think I’ve ever seen
similar behaviour on British roads.
A lot of roundabouts that were shared with road users had an
additional, segregated, ring around them just for cyclists. Where the
cycling roundabout crossed the road, you guessed it; the drivers gave
way.
Sam, somewhere in Holland
The cycling infrastructure in Holland appears to be set up to keep cyclists moving. Anyone who has experienced the relentless stop – start of cycling in London
knows that here in the UK the opposite appear to be the case. Cyclists
can be made to feel like they’re getting in the way, even though with a
lot of urban cycling it is in fact motorists who impede the progress of
cyclists, not the other way around. In Holland it appears that cycling
is very much encouraged over driving. A theory perhaps shored up by the
relatively high price of petrol and diesel in Dutch petrol stations.
The only downside to cycling in such a flat country is that the
headwinds can be brutal. I’ve done a bit of cycling in the Fens of
Cambridgeshire so thought I would be prepared for what the locals call
‘Dutch Mountains’. I was wrong. Holland makes the Fens look like the
Alps.
Unrelenting headwinds are demoralising. They’re not so bad if you’re
riding in a large group of cyclists, but if there’s only two of you they
can crush your spirit. The winds got stronger, or were noticed more
acutely, the more rural the route became.
By the time we reached the massive bridge over the River Haringvliet
both Sam and I had passed the point of grinning and bearing it. We were
in danger of being broken. I remember looking at the trees being whipped
around and the grasses on the verge being thrashed and being grateful
for their cover from the wind. When we shoved ourselves onto the
Haringvliet bridge we had almost no protection at all. I rode as close
as I could to the concrete wall that separated us and the motorway
traffic. The noise and filth was terrible, but it was worth tolerating
for just a tiny bit of respite from the winds that were pushing us
backwards. Looking back at the footage from the Garmin Virb on my handlebars we were doing well if we reached 9mph.
The damage to my brakes doesn’t look too bad in this photo, but it was a pain in the ass to fix on the roadside.
By the time we had crossed the bridge I told Sam I desperately needed
a rest, by shouting as many expletives as I could muster, which was a
lot. He replied that he also would enjoy a few minutes of not pushing
his face into what felt like a gale force wind. His language was also
creative and possibly Anglo Saxon in origin.
I slowed down and gently bunny hopped over a kerb onto a grass verge.
Unfortunately I bunny hopped right into a hole and promptly went over
the handlebars. I was lucky to escape with just a bit of road (or rather
grass) rash. I also managed to move one of my brakes. I knew I wasn’t
badly hurt, but stayed half clipped in and under my bike for a few
minutes. Bloodied but unbowed, and glad to be laying down.
If it wasn’t for the unrelenting and brutal headwinds in Holland the
whole experience would have been a total joy. The best average speed
I’ve ever managed on a 100 mile ride was 19.4mph. The average speed for
the 92 miles (we got lost, which accounts for the extra 12) was a measly
12.59mph. But this wasn’t just caused by the headwinds, or the fact I’m
older and fatter than when I did the speedy 100. A contributing factor
to the low average speed was that a lot of the cycle paths through
urban areas are quite tight and winding it’s just not possible to go so
fast.
Cycling in Belgium – the reality.
There was very little indication that we had crossed the border from
Holland to Belgium. We were hoping for a large sign, like the ones that
you find when entering towns. A sign would have given us a neat photo
opportunity. What we did notice was that the cycling infrastructure
wasn’t quite as good. By UK standards it was still outstanding, but the
surfaces weren’t quite as well maintained, and the junctions over main
roads weren’t quite as smooth. In Holland we just rode over junctions.
If there was occasion to stop and press a button in order to halt
traffic it took no time at all. There were even tall poles for us to
hold onto while we waited, so we didn’t need to unclip or dismount. But
in Belgium we had to stop at most junctions, and wait just a little bit
longer. A small inconvenience, but one worth noting. In urban areas a
lot of the cycle paths were on pavements. They were clearly marked, and
on the whole pedestrians stayed out of them. But they just didn’t feel
as glorious as the entirely segregated cycle paths of Holland, which on
the whole were nowhere near roads or sidewalks.
Hello Antwerp!
Sam greeting Antwerp
By the time we were deep into Belgium the constant bone rattling of
the lumpy cycle paths started to take it’s toll on my ancient steed. The
drive side crank shaft worked loose. This was particularly stressful
because cycling on a loose crank kills it. In fact it not only marks the
death of the crank, it can also destroy the bottom bracket. This kind
of damage at this stage of the ride would have forced us to abandon.
I’m particularly fond of the drivetrain on my old bike. The crank and derailleur are Dura Ace.
Admittedly they are very old Dura Ace, and on the rear only eight of
the nine gears are accessible, but it’s something special. At least to
me. The crank and BB are held in place by a single bolt, unlike modern
systems, hence the severity of what was happening. By a stroke of luck
we passed a big posh bike shop who were more than happy to tighten my
crank at zero cost. When I told the nice chap that we had cycled from
the Hook of Holland he stood back and looked my bike over. His response
was to say ‘you came all that way on this? These parts are very old!’.
Cheeky.
Everyone we were fortunate enough to interact with in Belgium was
really friendly. At one point we had run out of water and it appeared
that all the shops were shut. Sam had the bright idea of asking at the
local ambulance station if we could use their taps. They had no problem
with it. In fact I got the impression that it was fairly normal for
cyclists to knock on their door and ask for water. Bike Punx.
After a carefully measured number of Belgian beers we retired to a really nice Air BnB place (this one).
The owner of the place offered us the use of his old tandem to make our
way to the festival. Following some fairly disastrous attempts at
riding it up and down the street we politely declined and borrowed a
couple of sit up and beg bikes. After the pommeling my arse took the day
before I was glad of the large cushioned seat. Sam wanted to borrow a
very cool looking cruiser bike,
until the owner pointed out that it was a little girls bike. To be fair
to Sam that didn’t put him off, why would it. But in the end he
decided on function over form and borrowed a sit up and beg bike.
The eleven kilometers to the festival was comfortable and uneventful.
Like a lot of the cycle routes we took it was alongside a mainline
railway. Once we’d gotten over the shock of express trains hammering
past at incredible speeds we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. The ride to
and from the festival was the only cycling we did in ‘normal’ clothes,
and it felt kinda cool fitting in with the locals.
The Brakrock EcoFest festival itself was brilliant. We locked our
bikes up along with many other bikes that were scattered throughout the
small wood that was the venue. Although thinking back I think ours may
have been the only bikes that were locked. Because this is a cycling
site, not a punk rock site I won’t write a full review of the festival,
but watching the short video below will give you a good idea of what it
was like.
Due to the fact we left the festival well past midnight we had some
consternation about cycling home in the dark. I dearly love the Dunwich
Dynamo but having done large chunks of it in near total darkness (after
cheap lights have crapped out) I wasn’t looking forward to the prospect
of cycling back to Antwerp in the dark. We had also made ourselves
fairly familiar with the wares of the beer tent. We needn’t have
worried. Despite the fact a big chunk of the ride home was rural, the
cycle paths were lit the entire way. Nice one Belgium.
In conclusion.
By the end of the weekend we had cycled 192 miles. And if the ride from
the Hook to Antwerp was one of the toughest I’d ridden, the ride back
was one of the easiest. Apart from that pinch puncture.
If you’ve got even a passing interest in cycling in Holland I
heartily recommend you give it a go. The ferry was reasonably priced and
remarkably comfortable, the locals were friendly and the cycle routes
were fantastic. The only issue I’ve returned home with is the burning
desire to buy a proper Audax or touring bike for the next time I visit the continent. Other things I learned cycling in Holland and Belgium.
Mopeds are allowed to use most of the cycle paths, but the vast
majority of riders are very considerate and careful when passing
cyclists. Possible due to the fact that so few of them wear helmets.
Almost nobody in Holland or Belgium wears either lycra or a helmet.
And finally…
If you want to study the route, or scoff at how slow we rode you can view the Strava records by clicking the links below. Gallery
A fake hill on the outskirts of Rotterdam
Sam watching me repair by bike after I went over the handlebars
The Egg-shaped Air BnB we stayed at in Antwerp
Belgian cyclists do it differently
Brakrock Ecofest main stage, complete with phantom feet
Just a field full of discarded bombs somewhere in Holland
About the author
Andrew Culture is a professional writer and reviewer who has been
writing about everything to do with bikes and cycling for many years.
Andrew is also a musician and award-winning zine author.
Remember when you were young and wanted to go for a ride on your two
wheeler? You simply went outside, hopped on, and pedalled off. You
didn’t worry about putting on the proper shoes or having any
cycling-specific gear. As long as you had shoes on your feet and were
wearing clothes that could get dirty in case you took a tumble or got
splashed, you were in good shape.
Now, however, if you go out cycling, it’s not enough to wear an
ordinary pair of trainers. The right pair of cycling shoes can boost
your speed and efficiency, reduce muscle strain, give you better control
over your bike, and improve your overall performance. There are lots of
choices, but which pair is right for you? Let’s have a look.
Clipless pedals or flat pedals?
High Quality flat pedals
The type of pedals you have on your bike will greatly inform what
type of cycling shoes you purchase. There are two main categories of
pedals: flat and clipless. Flat pedals are the traditional bike pedals
we all grew up with. Good flat pedals will offer more traction to keep
your foot from slipping off. Some will even have toe clips to really
keep your foot in place and allow some power transfer when the pedals
are on an upstroke.
The term “clipless pedals” is something of a misnomer, since
corresponding bike shoes actually clip into the pedals. Many cyclists
prefer this type of arrangement, even those who are more casual riders.
They allow for a more efficient use of your energy, as they allow you to
propel your bike through every movement of your legs. Matched with the
proper cycling shoes, clipless (or clip-in) pedals give you all the
benefits of toe clips and then some.
Clipless Types
If you decide to go with a clipless pedal system, it’s important to
know that there are a few different types. Off-road and mountain bikes
typically have a two-bolt arrangement, which you’ll often see as SPD
(Shimano Pedalling Dynamics). Road bikes, on the other hand, have a
three-bolt arrangement, which is sometimes called LOOK style or SPD-SL.
Finally, racing bikes may have four bolts, and these are often called
Speedplay.
Shimano SPD-SL clipless pedals for road bikes
Shimano SPD pedals for mountain bikes
Speedplay pedals for road bikes
While many riders do like these clipless (or clip-in) pedals, some
novice cyclists are apprehensive about using them because they are
concerned about not being able to unclip in time to prevent toppling
over and injuring themselves (or someone else). Your pedal preference is
a highly personal choice, but it’s important to remember that, again,
your cycling shoe choice will be dictated by the pedals you pick.
Fitting the Cleats
If you’ve got clipless (or clip-in) pedals, the cleat is the part on
your cycling shoe that actually fits into the pedal. Cleats come with
pedals and not with shoes, so when you do buy your shoes, it’s important
to make sure that the pair you pick is compatible with the specific
type of cleat you have. And, it’s not always enough to check the number
of bolts — check the compatibility with your specific brand and style of
cleat.
For example, cleats like LOOK Delta, LOOK Keo, and SPD-SL all appear
to be similar because they’re all three-bolt cleats. However, not all
three-bolt cycling shoes will work with all of these cleats. And while
some shoes are compatible with both two-bolt and three-bolt cleats, many
are specifically for road biking or off-road biking and are therefore
compatible with just one type of cleat.
Where Will You Ride?
If you’ve got a road bike, you’ll want road cycling shoes. These are
lightweight and very stiff, with a cleat that sticks out from the sole.
They’ll give you great performance on your preferred terrain, but
they’re definitely not designed for walking. These often take three-bolt
cleats, though some will take two-bolt.
Cycling shoes for off-road and mountain bikes are also stiff, though
they’re more flexible than road cycling shoes. The cleats on these are
typically recessed within the sole to allow for better traction if you
have to walk, especially on uneven and rough terrain. They’re also
usually easier to disengage from the pedal than road cycling shoes. For
this reason MTB style SPD pedals are also popular with city cyclists
who frequently need to clip in and out of their pedals.
Other Terrain Choices
If you use your bike for commuting or ride in more urban
environments, you may opt for city cycling shoes. These can have
two-bolt cleats or no cleats at all. City shoes are much easier to walk
in thanks to their rubber soles and recessed cleats, and most look like
ordinary trainers. However, they’re less stiff than the other options,
and some riders find that this reduces their pedalling efficiency.
If you’re a triathlete, though, you’ll want a shoe that you can both
cycle and run in, and many manufacturers offer these. Triathlon shoes
are often SPD compatible, but as always, it’s essential to check before
you buy.
Other Considerations
For securing cycling shoes to your feet, laces look good and will get
the job done, but lots of riders feel like they can get in the way.
Plus, cycling in muddy or wet conditions make unlacing your shoes a
mess. Lots of cyclists prefer hook and loop straps, and some shoes even
have additional buckles and cam straps to really keep the shoe in place.
Higher end cycling shoes have ratchets and dials to ensure a perfect
fit.
It’s also good to know that cycling shoes generally don’t break in
like other shoes do. They start stiff and remain stiff; if they lose
their rigidity, it’s probably time for a new pair. What this means is
that it’s important to find a pair that’s comfortable when you try them
on, since the way they feel probably won’t change very much.
Shoe Maintenance
Cycling shoes need to be maintained much more than other types of
footwear. For example, cleats need to be installed correctly; this can
be a DIY job, or a well-regarded bike shop should be able to take care
of the job for you. Cleats also need to be lubricated regularly,
especially if you’re biking in muddy weather. This will not only get you
in and out of your pedals easily, but it will keep you safe. Finally,
for how to properly maintain your own cleats and shoes, refer to the
manufacturers’ instructions.
Popular Cycle Shoe Brands
Shimano and Pearl Izumi are big names in cycling, and you’ll find
cycling shoes from both of these manufacturers. Giro makes excellent
cycling shoes, as do Gaerne, Lake, Northwave, and a number of other
companies.
Conclusion – Two Wheels Good!
The right cycling shoes are a critical component of any cyclist’s
gear. They’re where your body meets your ride, connecting you and your
ride into a two-wheeled, two-legged machine. Sure, you can get around on
a bike without anything on your feet, but that’s not practical if
you’re aiming to improve your speed, distance, or both.
Like everything else these days, all cycling shoes are not created
equal. By making a careful assessment of your needs and preferences and
then trying on some options before making your purchase, you’ll settle
on the proper pair of cycling shoes for you.
We have a number of cycle shops already in and around Ipswich. Some
sell very cheap bikes, others are very high end places where many a
smiling cycling can be seen handing over several thousands of pounds for
a new steed. But before Evans Cycles arrived there were no bike shops
that I felt catered for people who were keen cyclists who might not have
the budget to casually fork out a few grand on a bicycle. I’m not
saying that Evans Cycles is a bargain basement type of bike shop. Evans
has a reputation for selling good quality bikes at very competitive
prices.
So the ‘can you trust them’ question is possibly the wrong question
to ask. Passionate cyclists are a loyal bunch, in both positive and
negative ways. If a chain of cycle shops consistently disappoints
cyclist then cyclists will stop using that chain. We cyclists love to
celebrate good service, but transversely we will also cheerfully make
very public any grievances we have. Usually on any one of the brilliant
cycling forums, like CycleChat.
If a large chain of bike shops like Evans gets a bad reputation then
cyclists stop giving them money. Without cyclists giving money to a
brand, that brand can’t develop and open new shops. However, Evans
Cycles appear to have a very healthy reputation. However, it’s worth
considering that you will find some bad reviews for Evans Cycles if you
scan the web deep enough. Even the very best brands get bad reviews.
Nobody can be perfect all the time. Therefore I’m usually more
interested in how brands like Evans deal with complaints. It’s just not
possible to entirely avoid complaints. On the whole Evans Cycles
appear to be very good with their customer service.
Evans Cycles - the review
I have used Evans shops in London (and other large towns) several
times, but never for any significant purchases. I have been in need of
inner tubes, or a pair of sunglasses, or a water bottle. Never anything
worth a few quid. Therefore never anything that I felt was worthy of a
written review, however brief. But a few weeks ago my wife and I
decided the time had come to buy my daughter a proper bike. She has
been bimbling around on several frankly crap bikes for the last couple
of years. You know the sort of bikes; they always have a sticker of a
Disney character or some other crap on them.
When I had taken my daughter to Halfords the ‘fashion’ and Disney
bikes were a bit of an issue for us. She couldn’t see past the stickers
of Disney ‘stars’ on the cheap bikes, and I couldn’t see past the fact
these BSOs weighed more than a wheelbarrow full of spuds. The other
issue, and one of the reasons we never bought a bike from Halfords, is
that all the bikes came fitted with stabilisers. My girl has never used
stabilisers. I removed the crank and pedals from the first bike
someone gave to us and she used it as a balance bike. But because the
Disney bikes had stabilisers you’d better believe she (thought) she
wanted stabilisers. Yes I know I could have removed the stabilisers
after buying the bike, but that wasn’t really what was stopping me from
buying.
Even the most cursory glance over this type of cheap bike made me
wonder how much of the production costs were spent on Disney or Marvel
licensing fees, and how much was spent on the actual bike.
I wanted my daughter to have her first ‘proper’ bike. She is seven
years old, the time for toy bikes has past. Hopefully. I wanted to buy
her a bicycle that would inspire a love of cycling. Not a heap of shit
that would put her off a life on two wheels. So for a good long while I
struggled to find a good way forward for buying my daughter a bike.
Evans Cycles at Martlesham Heath
When Evans Cycles opened at Martlesham Heath I was keen to go and
speak to someone there about buying a proper bike for my daughter. I
had what I considered to be a generous budget in mind. I build my road
bike myself, mostly from bits from our local Bike Doctor’s spares box. I have 9-speed Dura Ace,
so it’s not the best, but it’s certainly not the worst. While I wasn’t
heading into Evans with the intention of buying my girl a bike with the
latest groupset, I wanted to buy a bike that would be a pleasure to
ride, not a mechanical frustration.
Naturally my daughter was keen to join me on my visit to Evans
Cycles, so one sunny Saturday afternoon we headed over to Martlesham to
see what was what.
The Evans store at Martlesham is brand new, so naturally everything
was looking very nice. Although that being said I don’t think I’ve ever
been into an Evans Cycles that was anything other than spick and span.
After a minute or two of wandering around the road bikes I remembered
why I was there and went in search of children’s bikes. It was a brief
search. A very friendly member of staff called Louis (I think) took me
and my daughter over to the collection of children’s bikes. There was a
selection of maybe twenty child bikes to look at. Not a huge range,
but I get the notion that for Evans a modest selection of high quality
bicycles is more important than a massive range of ‘stack ‘em high, sell
‘em cheap’ bikes. But that’s just me guessing; let’s get back to the
facts.
I was really impressed that Louis spent as much time talking to my
daughter as he did speaking to me. More importantly, he was listening
to and paying attention to what my daughter had to say. This is a skill
that is sadly lacking in most adults, let alone most shop assistants.
After a few minutes of chatting Louis asked my daughter if she would
like to try riding some of the bikes. She was keen.
Very keen.
The first bike my girl was keen to try was a very nice looking Cannondale Kids’ Mountain bike.
This Cannondale was kitted out with some of the same groupset as the
adult-size Cannondale bikes elsewhere in the store. That’s a very good
sign that this is a real bike, not a fashion toy. The price tag was
around the £400 mark, which might make some readers blink a bit. But
£400 for a quality bike is nothing at all. I’ve got friends who have
though nothing of spending triple that amount on a new set of wheels.
The test ride on the Cannondale went reasonably well. Although I
reassured the Evans employee that my daughter can ride bikes if she
relaxes enough, he thought nothing of support (us both!) while she
bezzed around the store getting a feel for the bike. I held onto the
back of the saddle, just in case, but all of the staff we rolled past
looked just as pleased as my daughter did.
The final bike my daughter tried was a Pinnacle.
This was not a brand I have previously heard of, but it turns out to be
Evans Cycles own brand. As soon as my girl sat on the bike it was
clear that the Pinnacle was the bike for her. It looks a bit like a
hybrid. It’ll be fine on the road and just as comfortable nipping down
public footpaths. I was impressed how light the bike was as well. With
a bike like this we’re clearly miles away from carbon components but
weight is still important. The cack bikes my daughter has owned in the
past were incredibly heavy, and that made balancing while learning to
ride a lot more difficult. One of her previous bikes was so heavy she
could barely lift it off the ground when she fell off it.
Although price wasn’t the biggest influencer I was somewhat
astonished to find out the price tag on the Pinnacle bike was only
£225. This was considerably less than I was expecting to spend. My
wife was particularly pleased with the price tag. The bike felt solid
and had a transmission that I’ve seen on half-decent mountain bikes.
Unlike the crap fashion bikes I’d seen in other shops the Pinnacle also
had proper bike components, meaning I can easily fix and maintain this
bike. Hallelujah! The only way to ‘fix’ previous bikes has been to
take them to the municipal tip.
Evans Cycles review - conclusion
The staff were attentive without being overbearing. Everyone I spoke
to was knowledgeable without being a ‘know it all’. The prices were
fair and the selection well-considered.
Within hours of collecting her new Pinnacle bike my daughter was
racing around a local car park unaided. No stabilisers! I’ve known for
many months that my girl could ride a bike with a bit more confidence
and with the right bike. I am very grateful to Louis and everyone at
Evans for helping us find the right bike and a great price. I was even
offered some cash to bring in one of the terrible bikes my daughter
owned previously. Bike Scrappage! I like Evans Cycles!
Find out more about Evans Cycles… About the author
Andrew Culture is a professional writer and reviewer who has been
writing about everything to do with bikes and cycling for many years.
Andrew is also a musician and award-winning zine author.
I’d never given prescription cycling glasses a thought before as I,
until recently had worn contact lenses for nearly thirty years, I
started wearing them in my early teens, honest! Okay it may have been
VERY early twenties, but definitely no later than that.
Unfortunately after a painful eye infection I was advised to cut down
my wear time from fourteen hours a day, seven days a week to no more
than eight hours a day once or twice a week. I took the difficult
decision to stop using contacts entirely; I couldn’t see the point of
such short wear time.
After open wallet surgery for two pairs of vari-focals I then turned
to the problem of cycling glasses. I have always ridden with cycling
glasses, whether dark lenses, clear lenses or yellow night lenses. I
hated dust and bugs in my eyes, especially when I used contact lenses. I
tried cycling in my normal glasses and hated it, they were not suited
to the purpose and the thought of an accident and my glasses flying
through the air sent shivers down my spine.
With a reluctant ‘yes’ from my wife I started to look round for
suitable cycling eye wear. I looked longingly at the big names,
prescription insert (a small prescription frame attached behind plain
interchangeable lenses) Oakleys and Rudy Projects were both pipe dreams
and direct glazed (prescription lenses fitted into frame) budget tinted
options seemed ugly and would be useless for winter commutes.
After trawling around the web I found the Base-Camp glasses by FreeMaster. These FreeMaster glasses have interchangeable lens and blank prescription inserts that you get glazed at your own opticians.
I read the few short reviews under the product description and
decided at £16.99 they were worth a punt, so I popped them in my virtual
basket. Amazon then wanted to charge me £4 on top for delivery. So I
used the ‘add on item’ search to take the value over £20 free delivery
threshold and found a Pyrex jug for £3.50… so I got the jug and the
glasses for fifty pence less than just the glasses (plus postage
charge), go figure! You’ve got to love Amazon. FreeMaster Base-Camp glasses – what’s in the box?
On their arrival I checked the glasses over and I was very happy with
the quality of them. The package consisted of the following:
Rigid zip case
Glasses frame
Six interchangeable lenses (Dark tint, Bronze tint, Yellow tint, blue tint, Mirrored tint, Polarised and clear.)
Two straps (one ‘normal’ string strap and a goggle type that replaces the arms)
Prescription insert.
Cloth case
Cleaning Cloth
All the lenses carry a U.V sticker indicating they exceeded the
specification required for sale in the U.K. I assume as Amazon supply
the product from their own warehouse then this information is accurate.
Getting glazed.
I took the the insert to a local optician Faye Newman at Personal-Eyez
in Swadlincote. If you’re curious you can find her on either Facebook or Instagram.
Faye offered to fit the prescription lenses into the glasses for a
very reasonable £35 . The service and product I received from them was
fantastic. Turn around was less than a week and Faye clipped the inserts
into the glasses to make sure of the fit, even though she hadn’t
supplied the frame or the empty insert herself.
FreeMaster glasses – on the road.
I have been using the glasses for a week now and I am really happy with
them. The mirrored and dark lenses come with top vents to stop fogging
when you stop at lights etc. The other four lenses don’t, I can’t work
out why this is the case.
The glasses sit securely on my head and comfortably around my nose.
Whilst the edges of the insert can be seen out of the corner of my eye,
they are in no way obtrusive. The wrap around style of the outer lens
keep out bugs and dust as well as any ‘plain’ cycling glasses I’ve owned
ever have. I am currently using the mirror tint outers as they hide
the insert, it can look a bit like you are wearing goggles underneath if
you use the other outers, no big issue for me, but just looks better if
the prescription parts are obscured. I will still be happy with the
overall look when I change to the clear or yellow lenses for winter
commutes.
The case is a rigid one and can hold all the lenses and straps etc.
Conclusion.
Overall I’m amazed with the quality of the product for a total price of
around £50 (including locally sourced prescription lenses) and would
recommend them. If you are on the search for a similar item, you could
spend a lot more money and achieve nothing more than a ‘name’ on the
frame arms.
And if you are wondering if I’m happy with the jug then….. err…… it’s a jug what more can I say about it. Click here to find out more about FreeMaster cycling glasses…
Simon
Elson purchased the above item and has received no financial gains or
goods from Amazon or Base Camp for the review and was not asked to write
it by them.
The Garmin Virb Elite is not the ‘current’ or most up to date model
in the popular Garmin cam range. So why are we reviewing an old model?
Well I’m glad you asked. Although you probably didn’t ask did you?
Most of the products we review here at VeloBalls are brand new, or at
least current models, like the great Source Fuse hydration pack.
But buying brand new comes with a problem that a lot of people find a
big issue. The price. If you buy the latest model of anything you’re
going to pay a premium just because you’re buying the latest model.
Whereas buying an older version can massively reduce the pain felt in
your wallet. Fancy cycling gear that is unaffordable becomes affordable
to all but the most modest budgets. I’m not even talking about buying
second hand. There are some products I wouldn’t be too keen to buy
second hand. Bibs for example. Grim. If you take a look at any
massive marketplace like Ebay or Amazon you’ll find plenty of sellers flogging brand new, older model, cycling products.
I paid around £110 for my Garmin Virb Elite.
This is not only much cheaper than the latest Garmin Virb model (the
Virb Ultra), it’s also less than half the original list price for this
camera. So by buying a very slightly older model I got a brand new cam
at a price that was an absolute steal.
I’m not going to bore you with an exhaustive list of the technical
differences between my older Virb model and the newest model. Instead
I’m going to show you what is ultimately the most important aspect of
any video camera – the quality of the footage. So watch a few moments
of the video below and decide for yourself which camera shoots the best
looking footage.
Garmin Virb Elite – a closer look
The Virb Elite is the last of the Garmin cameras to be build in the
‘bullet’ format. The Virb Elite is long and fat, like a cigar. The new Virb cameras
follow same box of matches body style of the GoPro range of video
cameras. I tried to find out the reason for the shift of shape but
couldn’t reach a conclusion. I’ve owned (and killed) lots of cheap GoPro clones
and the Virb Elite feels a hell of a lot better than any of them. I’ve
destroyed so many cheap sports cameras that I’ve started to consider
them almost disposable. Cheap video cameras feel cheap; the Virb Elite
feels expensive. It might be a little on the heavy side but the heft it
carries does make it feel very robust.
Weatherproof and robust, even when naked
While we’re talking about comparing the Virb Elite to GoPro cameras
(genuine or otherwise), it’s worth pointing out that straight out of the
box the Virb has a huge advantage over other cameras. The Garmin Virb
Elite doesn’t need to be put in a case in order to make it waterproof.
In my experience cheap cams come to grief more through the failings of
the crappy waterproof cases you mount them in, rather than the actual
camera being crap.
The Garmin Virb Elite is rated waterproof to the IPX7 standard. This means you can submerse the cam a metre underwater for up to thirty minutes without doing any harm.
I could waffle on forever about how good the Virb feels in my hands,
but we’d both get bored. It’s sufficient to note that the buttons are
solid and responsive, the rubberised body feels robust and considering
how many times I’ve already dropped this camera it hasn’t been marked at
all.
Marmite and soft-focus
I’ve dropped this thing on it’s lens, on a gravel path, and it’s still
unscathed. I have no idea what the cover over the lens is coated with
but it appears to be entirely resistant to fingerprinting. I consumed
some Marmite on toast while writing this part of the review and the lens
over even appears to be resistant to light ‘marmiting’. Perhaps not
something Garmin deliberately designed in admittedly, but a good
indicator of quality.
On every one of the cheapo clones I’ve used over the years the
footage quality takes a massive dip once you put the camera inside the
waterproof case that came with it. On some of the painfully cheap cams
I’ve used the quality of the lens cover part of the case was incredibly
poor. Everything I filmed looked like it was meant to be part of a
soft-focus romance scene. The latest Garmin Virb comes with a separate
waterproof case (like the GoPro clones). The fact my older Virb doesn’t
need a case is a huge advantage.
Megapixel **nonsense**
The camera shoots full HD at up to 16mp. If you know anything about
photography you’ll know that these megapixel figures mean very little of
importance. As with pro digital cameras the quality of the lens and
the quality of the sensor is much more important than the megapixel
rating. This is why you can buy bewilderingly high megapixel cameras
from Chinese websites for chuff all money. The quality will be poop.
Megapixel ratings can be disregarded to a certain extent. The latest
Garmin Virb, the Virb Ultra, is
rated at up to 12mp. So 4mp lower than my older Virb. I very much
doubt the Virb Ultra (which costs three times more than my Elite) will
be worse quality.
Other stuffThis review is not exhaustive, and there’s little point in me
listing all the teeny tiny details about this camera. If you want to
know every, single, detail about the Virb Elite you can get that info
from Garmin HERE…
One feature that is worth noting is that the Virb Elite is one of the
Garmin cameras that can connect with ANT devices. So the Elite can
record your heartbeat, cadence and a number of other bits of data.
What’s super-cool is the fact that the Virb Elite can overlay this data
in real time over the footage captured on it. This is done using the
free ‘Virb Edit’ software that is accessible to all Virb owners. The
software ain’t great if you’re into complex edits, but is perfect for
exporting captured footage so that it can be edited in other software.
The Garmin Virb mount
The Garmin Virb Elite doesn’t need to be shoved in a little plastic
box to make it weatherproof, but there is one downside to this fact.
The way Garmin designed the system used to mount the camera is nothing
short of bewildering. In fact I’d say the mount is probably the worst
thing about the Virb Elite. The camera clips (very snuggly) into a
cradle. Said cradle is then attached to a circular screw mount. I can
see the need for a secure system for mounting the system, but fact the
mount is different to my other Garmin devices (like my Edge GPS) is a huge pain in the bum.
Garmin Virb mounting cradle
The hinge that sits between the cradle and the screw mount is similar
to the type used by GoPro. Very similar. But not quite. If it were
the same then I could easily mount this camera anywhere using any one of
the big box of GoPro mounts I have. But I guess I can see why Garmin
made their hinge mount different, but it does come across a little bit
like corporate spite. I tried shaving one of the GoPro clone mounts to
see if I could use it with the Virb but the connection felt sketchy as
hell.
What no handlebar mount?
The Virb Elite comes bundled with a modest set of mounts and a few
sticky pads. These mounts appear designed for sticking the camera to a
flat surface. Bicycles do not have an abundance of flat services. The
fact that Garmin didn’t think to include a handlebar mount is most
frustrating. I used one of the sticky pads to stick a cut-down GoPro
hinge mount to the underside of my Edge handbar mount. I couldn’t
tighten the Edge mount enough to stop it from being pulled down by the
weight of the Virb. In fact I ended up snapping the mount. I was not
happy. No only can I not mount the Virb on my handlebars, I now can’t
use my trusty Edge.
DIY combined Garmin mount with destroyed thread. Grrrrrr!
So my hand was forced and I bought a third party combined mount. The
new mount was designed to have the edge sit on the top, and the Virb
underneath. Perfect. At least it would have been perfect it hadn’t
turned out to be laughably poor on the road test. The third-party
combined mount was about as stiff as freshly boiled spaghetti. The
footage from the test ride was unwatchable. My only option now is to
buy the official Garmin combined mount, which is surprisingly expensive.
The laughably cack third party combined Edge / Virb mount
But I didn’t have a chance to buy an official mount before the test
ride for this review. I stuck the mounting cradle to my helmet instead.
I was tempted to drill a few holes through the mount baseplate, so I
could use some zip ties to doubly secure the cam, but in the interests
of writing an honest review I decided against it. I put my faith
entirely in the sticky pad that came in the box with the camera.
Garmin Virb sticky pad mount, stuck to the top of my MTB helmet
Getting at the SD card
The Virb Elite uses a micro SD card as storage. The SD card is stowed
underneath the battery compartment. The battery compartment is secured
by a tightly fitting plate on the underside of the camera, which is held
shut by a small rotating d-ring. I can understand the need to keep the
memory card safe in the inner guts of the camera, but it’s not easy to
get at if you need to transfer footage by plugging the card directly
into a computer. There’s no easy way to get the battery out of the
compartment, other than thumping it against the palm of my hand till it
falls out.
The preferred method of import for the Garmin Virb Edit software is via the USB port.
Virb Elite with battery removed. You can see the Micro SD card sitting in the secure mount.
There is a mini-USB port on the rear of the camera (protected by a
thick rubber ‘bung’) if you don’t want to open the camera to transfer
footage.
In addition to the USB port, there is a mini HDMI port
Garmin Virb Elite – the test ride
I like extreme tests. Fair weather tests don’t stress products
enough for me to really learn about them. So the test ride for this
review was done in the most extreme conditions I could think up. With
the cam stuck to my helmet I headed to the Yorkshire Dales for low
temperatures, heavy snow and persistent freezing rain. As an aside this
was the same ride I used to test the Source Fuse Hydration Pack.
Most of my cycling is done on a road bike, but I wanted a ride that
would be much more brutal than some smooth, gentle gliding along on my
old Bianchi. So I took the camera on a mountain biking stag weekend.
On the day of the test ride we had an unpleasant mix of thick, heavy
snow and driving penetrating rain. The terrain was rough and while the
bike I was on performed brilliantly by body was broken by the
experience. Conditions were not as bad as they might be elsewhere in
the world, but for the UK this ride was extreme.
One of the best features of the Virb is the huge slider switch on the
side of the camera. Even with thick winter gloves and numb hands
operating the ‘film now’ switch was very easy.
As I mentioned earlier in this review technical details are of little
interest to me. Cameras like the Virb live or die by the quality of
the footage they film. And rather than me try and explain the quality
of the footage it would be best if you used your own eyes and watched
the video below.
As you’ll see from the video there are gaps in the overlay data in
the video. I added the overlay data using the Garmin Virb Edit
software, but the editing functions are a bit limited. So I exported
the whole video and imported into iMovie. This appears to be where the
issue arose. Lacking data like this is an annoyance that’s worth
noting. A bit of research on various cycling forums reveals that I’m
not the only person having this problem.
It’s a shame so much of the snow stuck to the lens, but other than
having a hydrophobic coating added to the lens cover I’m not sure how
much Garmin could do to solve this problem. I was a little disappointed
by how little the on-board microphone captured. But sound quality
isn’t crucial with sports cameras. However, the sound was a lot better
than on the GoPro clones I’ve used in the past.
The cheap clones suffer
from an infuriating muffled rattle on the soundtrack. So by default I
mute sound when editing cam footage, but in the interests of
transparency I’ve left the sound switched on for the review video.
Garmin claim that a fully charged Virb battery will last up to three
hours when filming at 1080p. But the low temperatures of the test ride
reduced the battery life to just over an hour. An hour was nearly long
enough to capture the whole of the test ride, but a longer battery life
would be appreciated. That being said, the Virb lasted longer than some
of the riders on this stag do! Conclusion
There are a few oddities that let down the Garmin Virb Elite a little
bit, but none are major enough to stop be recommending this great
little action camera. For example, the screen on the Virb is quite
difficult to see in natural daylight, even on an overcast day. But how
often do you really need to look at the screen? I set up the recording
options in the comfort of my home and could see the screen perfectly.
When being used for recording there’s a bit green light that turns red
when the camera is recording. That’s really all I need.
The screen ain’t great, but does it really need to be?
For the price the Garmin Virb Elite is a great purchase. The price
is more than buying a GoPro clone, but far less than buying the newest
Virb model. I was pleased with the image quality and ease of use.
Considering how little I paid for this cam I’m very pleased with my
purchase. If I had of paid the full, original price I don’t think I
would be quite as thrilled with the Garmin Virb Elite. About the author
Andrew Culture is a professional writer and reviewer who has been
writing about everything to do with bikes and cycling for many years.
Andrew is also a musician and award-winning zine author.
