I’ve spent so long deliberating over what to write alongside photos from this trip, and I honestly have no idea why. It’s not like it wasn’t fun or hard to recount, but more of a ‘why bother you with the detail’. The images do enough of the work that I thought the writing would do, and what I really want is a home for them on the blog somewhere finally.
Uploading this at the end of summer, I had no idea how much of a deal ‘bikepacking’ would become over the last 4 months – maybe that’s why it felt weird writing about it then. It felt a bit surreal at the time, putting this all together as novices and setting off from the Velodrome. It looks like Summer 2025® really was the year everyone packed up their bikes and went camping, and I’m here for it.
So – instead of trying to be clever, here’s a dump of pics from the Hands® and Peak Magazine: Swift Campout 2025. Love to the entire Happy Camping™ crew for making it happen.
Photos by me, Tom Frimley and Matteo Lucherelli. More snaps from James Sofokleus over at Peak Magazine
Before I’d figured out the name for what you now know as Hands®, I knew that whatever it was going to eventually be called had to be human. I felt that there would be no sense whatsoever in it existing as a bike club, if I didn’t acknowledge that it was hand-built by some imperfect and flawed human beings. With that in mind, it’s so validating to see this sentiment being celebrated. For all the threat of automation Taking Our Jobs® (and the ensuing Artisanal trend for handmade tat products in response), there still exists a small pocket of the industry that has carried on just as it always has done for over a hundred years. In amongst all the BS, this slice of heaven harks back to a simpler time, when things worked. A time where we took time, and pride, in making things. There’s a two-letter acronym that is never going to be mentioned on this website that I’m sure you’ve all heard enough of over the last three years. You won’t find any hints of its existence anywhere on this website, neither will you find any trace of it at a small Victorian factory in Smethwick, just on the outskirts of Birmingham.
When words like ‘handmade’ or ‘made in {insert locale here}’ are used, it usually prompts me to generate an image in my head of a little person with a hammer, stood in a saw-tooth roofed factory, making something out of wood, metal or leather. At least, that’s what the teenage-brain that I observe the world from, thinks. It’s like the haute couture horror stories we hear about Hi–Fashion™ brands putting laces in shoes on Italian soil, but the shoes were actually made in factories on the other side of the planet – just to be labeled ‘Made in Italy’. We all know that a lot of the time, ‘Handmade’ don’t mean jack. It’s a marketing-led, box-ticking exercise, designed to out-do a competitor, and hopefully add some more zeroes to the price tag. Handmade, organic, artisanal, specialist, Pro Max. You get the idea.
It’s not just specific to Italy and high fashion of course. You might not have the same generative settings that I do, but imagine it like this: a lot of (not all) people think the UK is full of people in bowler hats and bonnets, drinking tea, riding on red buses and black cabs. We all immediately get annoyed because we know the UK isn’t like that at all. But, what if I told you that there’s a little bit of the UK that might not be bowler hat-wearing tea drinkers, but is made up of saw-tooth roofed factories with hammer-wielding workers making saddles out of wood, metal and leather.
For years, I’d always wanted a Brooks saddle (on my fixed lol) and so did my dad (on his MTB). I didn’t know why, but like adidas predators on Becks, like Paddington’s marmalade and Wallace’s cheese, it had to be a Brooks. There was just something about the saddles compared to the plastic ones my BMX had that didn’t feel ‘whole’. Fast forward a decade and we now have multiple Brooks saddles on all of our bikes. So does my gf and pretty much all of the Resident Ryderz® at Hands®. It’s only now that I’ve put some serious mileage with my backside on one, that I now understand that it wasn’t just hype, it was real.
Then, as if they’d seen our search engine history, they opened the doors. Somehow, it was also the first time in over 160 years that they’d opened them to the public, with no record of it ever happening before. The group chat was in a shambles – book now, book now, book now. We locked in the four most eager Saddle Sniffers™: myself, Jan, Jamie and my Old Man®.
To say we had a brilliant time would be a total understatement. That factory is special. What they manage to do there, on that scale, to that level of quality and for the amount of time they’ve been doing it for is testament to this country’s history of industry and manufacturing (that’s now mostly gone). Hand-built machines making handmade products designed to last a lifetime. The reuse and recycling of materials, keeping wastage down by sharing unused and discarded resources with the local industrial community. Literally: bits of metal that can’t be used by Brooks get sent to other factories and smelted down to be remade into nuts and bolts. Just like the saddles, every level of detail in the production process has been meticulously thought through and refined, not in the name of efficiency or streamlining, but just to make the process better as a whole. No automation on this factory floor.
We immediately gravitated towards the workers, nerd-mode® engaged. We learned that there is only ever 16 people max working on the floor at a given time, and on a good day, roughly 1000 saddles are made. We kept on falling behind from the main tour group, lost in the nerdiness. Łukasz showed us how some of the machinery actually works: steaming, freshly-welded rails for B17s that were still hot to touch (H&S no-no, sorry Stefan lol), and the comparison of brittle-ness between the steel and titanium struts (Jan even got to snap one).
20-year strong Steve showed us how filing down a discarded, broken rail helps to slip a bolt onto the inside of the springs on a B67. And even though it looks hard to use your hand to press the mounting bolts onto the hammock-y bit of the saddle, ‘you do get used to it after a couple years’.
Magda let us get up close and personal with the pre-moulded leather, showing us the moulding process and the parts required. Producing the shapes that our nether-regions all know and love involves a ridiculous amount of psi pressing into CNC’d chunks of metal – some over 60 years old.
Zsolt, armed with a sharp implement and forearms like Popeye, taught us how all it takes is one swift movement to trim the excess leather from the saddle edge. A technique perfected from over a decade of experience that made it look as easy as slicing through warm butter – just for us to give it one go and make a proper Pigs Ear of it.
John and Deepak, who we were all excited to meet after watching the Blue Lug tour, so we could witness IRL the precision with which they strike a hammer or chamfer edges of a saddle. They had no idea that this was the most viewed part of the video tour – to them, they were just doing their job. We asked them if they rode, to which they rebuffed: ‘Are you mad? Have you seen the roads outside?!’
Finally, Steve (I actually had to apologise before we left due to how far behind his tour we were), who comes from a generation of saddle makers for Brooks. His dad built machines that still run today, and he’s probably made many of the saddles we spend so much time on. When you hear someone speak about the role with the enthusiasm he did – no stone left unturned in the detail – it goes beyond being just a ‘brand’ that makes nice saddles.
It’s not often that you get to see behind the veil, especially for something that you really love and respect. Increasingly, a lot brands have started putting on tours and experiences, to show you how they ‘get stuff done’. But it can feel forced, staged and even fabricated too, just to fit a marketing narrative. But like any good product that is built to last, you can tell by the patina when something is real. This factory, and the people who run it, are real. They love what they make, they’re proud of it, and I’m sure – if things don’t change too drastically, they’ll keep on doing what they have been doing since 1866 for many years to come.
Big love to Stefan, Riccardo, Steve and everyone else whose name I’ve forgotten. Cheers!
Panic in the group chat. Uh oh, that’s our ride gone.
“Jack joined the waiting list this morning and got one within the hour, just try it”
Anyone would have thought we were off to see Oasis.
“Why would you need tickets for a bike ride? I’ll just ride along side you” – technically, not wrong.
“There’s like token things. For drinks at the stop halfway round…”
Well, now, we were well and truly fuc-
“Hang on, I’ve just had an email…”
We were in fact, going on a bike ride in Cambridge. And fortunately, some dumb legend (me) booked two extra tickets though didn’t I.
“See you in the morning at 7, leaving for half past boys”
The state of us lot. Honestly – Worth every ounce of panic lol.
Looking back at the photos now, I’m a shite photographer (I never actually claimed to be one to be fair) but the only reason they’re terrible is because we had such a great day. I don’t know why but we were treating it like Christmas; I think I even went to bed early Friday, regardless of the fact we were riding on Sunday.
My Dad had given his B17 Carved a fresh coat of beeswax, Resident Riderz® Tom, Jack, Jamie and Jan all cushioned atop of a variety of Birmingham built cult classics: Swift, B17 Special, Team pro. We felt like a proper bunch of nerds off to ComicCon. We were.
I was excited to finally see the place that’d I’d sunk the remainder of my last pay checks before going full time on Hands® – Bicycle Ambulance (A.K.A Freshtripe). I’d bought enough niche Japanese bicycle parts from them in the last 8 months that I felt I knew these guys on a genuine, personal level.
Anyway, as per: Play it cool.
The title to this article is 100% fictional, but when we turned up – you could almost hear each other’s inner voices.
Other than Crusty Cruise last month, this was the second outing we’d had as the Hands® Engagement & Leisure Liaison (also known as H.E.L.L®) and this time, it was with the Big Bois™ (Not that Craig isn’t a Big Boi™ but he hasn’t had people sitting on him since 1866).
The ride was great, and beautiful. We stopped for scones and strawberries, rode some more. Stopped for a beer in a town with no off-license. Rode some more, tried to get ice-cream opposite Kings College. Rode some more and ended up back at Bicycle Ambulance where Stef (Boss man) made everyone an Aperol Spritz. Me, my Dad and Jan, chewed the ears off of Sam from BA and Simon who was shooting photos and surprisingly, we didn’t piss ’em off. I even left with a new pair of Albatrosses for the Diamondback. Wonderful bunch of dudes, and hopefully will be riding with them again, home and away, soon.
There was always going to be something a bit mentally ambitious about trying to convince your friends to stand around a gas stove in the woods with you at 8:00am on a Sunday morning. And considering we’d never done this before, I think we struck gold. – Coffee outside is super fun.
After the brief threat of clouds and rain via Apple weather, we were treated to another Perfect Blue®. I do have to say, as much as I’m enjoying the weather this last couple months, it does make me worry for the greenery. 20ºC for the last 3 weeks is great for riding bikes and all, until you have to do important things like pollenate crops and balance the water table etc. Winter felt especially rough this year and it’s nice that the Sun gods felt compelled to make it up to us all, but you know when something doesn’t feel ‘normal’ anymore? All that being said, the woods are beautiful at that time. lime green leaves are starting to appear, bluebells are carpeting the floor. We picked a little picnic spot and set up our stoves. Pots of Carlo’s Concrete Cowboy bubble away. I actually think we over-stimulated ourselves to be honest.
The general consensus afterwards was that we should try and do this way more regularly. There’s some even more beautiful spots to pull up too as well (Not that I’ve been to Sequoia National Park before but there’s a section to the south that we passed that could pass easily if you wanted to fool someone lol).
Thank you to all the Worm Getters anyway, wonderful turnout and it makes me so so stoked every time a new face turns up. Catch you all at the next one. Enjoy the snaps!
Before we joined The Crüe® for HANDS002, we were busy crossing the border – a couple of Buckinghamshire fugitives, ditching the grid-system for some good ol’ fashioned Victorian terracotta brick and mortar. Here’s some ‘candid’ snaps I took while riding/trying to manually focus and set aperture.
We met Bill, Paul and Alex back on the severly Rain-Damaged® HANDS001. They braved the cold, rode the train 10 minutes to Milton Keynes – and ended up riding all the way back to N-town due to cancelled trains (Yes – the weather really was that bad.)
Given the vibes they brought on our maiden voyage (and being the mad bunch of bastards they are) we thought it was only fair that we return the gesture in their manor. I’d been wanting to ride in Northampton for a while and they really put on a spread for us – This was the inaugural Inter-county Foreign Exchange Programme. Yellow Bourbon Coffee Roasters, The Orangery at Delapre Abbey, and topping it all off at V&B’s in the town centre.
I really have to admit, Northampton and its surrounding area is sick. Maybe it’s just me but I think we should be entertaining the idea more that these guys are only just up the road. There’s going to be a couple more of these rides booked in extracurricularly so keep an eye out. Anyway, Love to NN’s Bill, Paul, Alex, Dale, Jason and Andy – and Hands® Resident Riders: Rich, Jamie and Tom.