Well, that was a long and dry stint in the UK. On our ride in the Welsh Black Mountains at the weekend, we could even see the fires still smouldering across the moorland. As I put the finishing touches to this summer list, I’m finally waking up to rain. Seems like I’m just in time to post it.

I don’t generally collate summer Dozens, saving the gear I try for the end-of-year finale. But so far in 2026, I’ve sampled enough that I have a mid-year collection that might deserve airing! As usual, my choices lean in the durable/touring direction, rather than the ultralight/race end of the spectrum. And, there are a few broader topics that transcend the world of bicycles, and indeed, places in the world that were once wonderful to bikepack.

Tailfin Journey Rack

Earlier this year, I contributed to the site’s Journey rack review. At the time, however, I’d only had a sample rack and the fittings themselves were different from productions ones. Since then, I’ve had much more of a chance to put it through its paces and it’s seen duty across a number of bikes too—at least five by now.

Tailfin’s Journey Rack flat packs and plays nicely with other brands of panniers.

After all this, I’ve concluded that this is now my favourite rack yet. Usual Tailfin detailing aside, I love that not only is it a breeze to remove but it now also folds flat, be it to hang on a shed wall, slide in the belly of a bus, or slot into a bike box. Compared to its competitors—and indeed, other Tailfin products—I find its price to be quite reasonable, especially as it includes a thru-axle adaptor. And, via the deployment of Tailfin’s new ‘fast release’ dropouts of differing lengths, it can now be tailored more accurately to your wheel size. Even big ol’ 32ers! Whilst I remain unconvinced by this diameter for general touring—available spares aside, it means a new bike bag for transportation, possible complications on trains, and gearing conundrums to solve—at least your Journey Rack will be one less thing to replace!

I’ve also had the chance to try Tailfin’s cryptically titled Journey Pannier Rack without Pannier Mounts. That is, the modular arch that’s had its Tailfin-specific pannier mounts snipped. Not only does it offers a significant saving in weight—well, 160g—it also eases compatibility with other brands of panniers. So far, I’ve tried a set of my very old Ortliebs (circa 2005), as well as some rather classy-looking, waxed cotton Brooks Half-Haul panniers, with no obvious issues.

At this point, mine has seen service across multiple bikes: a Jones LWB in two sizes, a Jones SWB, a Merida Big Trail, my Stooge Rambler, and even the new SuperMutt. It’s proven to be genuinely compatible with them all, at a moment’s notice. The only downside is that it needs an accessory to mount a rear light. That, and the fact that I’ve already misplaced the parts kit that allows the rack to be positioned at different angles, should you prefer spirit level-style horizontal perfection.

Teravail Ehlines 29 x 2.8

Logan reviewed a set of Ehlines last year and you can find his write up and the full specs here. In May, I took a pair to Peru as I wanted a slightly narrower, lighter tyre than my 29 x 3.25in Duro Crux, which is prone to chain rub issues in muddy conditions—plus it’s a lot of tyre to lug around. Interestingly, the Ehlines aren’t that much lighter, but I chalked it up to potentially being a good thing. That is, hopefully a durable tread and sturdy sidewalls

Plenty of room for mud clearance and they look great with a tan sidewall too.

Both have proved to be true so far. I’ve probably clocked about 2,000 kilometers on my set, and wear remains minimal with no sidewall issues to report—they’re now set aside to take on my next trip. In use, I found the Ehlines steered well, and whilst they do prefer dirt and they’re not the fastest rolling tyre, they’re perfectly reasonable for stints on pavement. In an ideal world, I’d probably run a faster-rolling tyre at the back, but as an all-rounder, they’re a welcome addition to the dwindling world of plus-sized tyres. Speaking of which, they came up almost true to size on Jones Alloy rims—which measure 45mm internally—with a reasonably rounded profile.

I do have one caveat for touring, though. This particular size of Ehlines proved surprisingly hard to mount. They sit loosely on the rim and it took repeated efforts to inflate both with my Specialized tyre setter, and I’ve heard similar stories from others. In contrast, many of my others tyres, on the same rims, can be set up tubeless with a floor pump. So, if you have an issue mid-journey and need reseat them, you’ll likely need a proper air compressor. I’ve heard the new wave of electric bike pumps can seat tyres too, so I’d be curious to try one out.

Restrap Rolltop Canister Bag and Saddle Pack

These two UK-made Restrap bags pair well together, though I actually use them on different bikes for particular setups. At four liters, the Rolltop Canister Bag (£75) is the smallest in a range of three sizes, and I find it nestles perfectly in front of my Jones H-Bar Bend, resting on the truss fork. It’s capacity is perfect for a couple of light layers and a bunch of snacks, and other little things I like to squirrel away where they’re quick to get to, like my lights, thanks to the magnetic Fidlock closure system. Being a Brit, I’m grateful that it’s 100 percent waterproof—this summer aside—as I actually also use it to carry a second camera lens. With its camlock handlebar straps and elasticated toggle, the Canister’s quick and easy to remove and you can also run it as a shoulder bag with the included paracord strap—I just leave it on the handlebars, as it’s light and unobtrusive. I’ve been running this bag for a while now—maybe a year on and off—and it’s proved to be very well made.

A fine addition to the LWB cockpit.

This second Restrap bag, the 4.5L Saddle Bag (£84), feels like the seat bag brother to the Rolltop Canister bag, thanks to the same style of waterproof liner and Fidlock closure. It’s also diminutive in size, suiting both day ride and lightweight overnighters alike. I directly stuff my summer sleeping bag straight in, with room to jam my sleeping mat in there as well. Or, I use it to carry a towel and goggles down to the beach. Again it’s proved to be robust, and easy to fit and remove.

Fully waterproof and well sized for day rides and summer overnighters alike.

20 Year Old Rohloff Speedhub

Earlier this year I was reminded how much I love my somewhat neglected Rohloff, when I used one of my FBOATs—aka favourite-bikes-of-all-time—on a trip over Rollins Pass with my son Sage, as I wrote about here. There’s plenty of info online about the pros and cons of this longstanding internal gear system but I’d add that in the case of those running 3in or 3.25in tyres, a Rohloff offers a far improved chainline compared to a 1x drivetrain, which is of particular benefit in muddy conditions.

Twenty years young and still going strong.

Internal whirring aside, it’s also very quiet, as I appreciated on a medley of park ride descents, as described in the same story. There’s absolutely no chain slap and of course no dangling derailleur to worry around. I fitted a TranzX Jump Seat dropper post to my bike—an older Jones Plus, which has a 135mm QR dropout—and had a hoot, before we loaded up our bikes and bikepacked back up and over the mountain again.

This particular hub does need a full service and I intend to return it to the standard, Gripshift-style Rohloff shifter—the beady eyed or Rohloff fixated might notice mine is a Cinq prototype from years ago. Anway, I’m looking forward to treating it to some much needed care and attention for possible tours to distant locations. Depending on the specific model, Rohloffs seem to cost around £1,100 these days but really, offset this initial outlay over years and years of use. Mine could well be two decades old, and has been moved from one bike to the other, including a Thorn Catalyst, a Surly Krampus, and a prototype Tumbleweed Prospector.

Matador Refillable Toothpaste Tube

Ok, this is just a little one but nifty nonetheless. In the past, I’ve sourced travel toothpastes and just squeezed the contents of a larger tube directly into them when they’re empty. It can make it a bit messy, but it generally works. Pro tip? Dock them together at teeth brushing time, so you can at least use the inevitable toothpaste worm that squeezes out!

Matador’s tubes make this a lot easier, although the slider that keeps everything locked away in there can be a bit fiddly. It comes in a pack of two sizes and they’re TSA approved—the smaller of the two is pictured, which claims one week in capacity. Shameless plug: I bought mine from Tourist in Santa Fe, which sells both shiny new curated gear along with well loved second hand favourites, providing a welcome choice in this day and age. I actually sold a few of my own things to the shop and used part of my store credit to buy these toothpaste tubes, which were $11 for the pair.

Mine is full of Sensodyne.

BXB Flap Musette

I love this BXB Musette Bag more than I probably should. It’s perfect for popping into shops for a resupply and good looking enough to impress in a coffee shop too. Impress? Maybe that’s the wrong word. But sometimes I do feel a bit scruffy mid-tour, so sporting a stylish bag in a hip coffee shop offers me some illusion that I might be blending in. This one fits my MacBook Air, a layer, and plenty of accompanying paraphernalia, with a capacity of 12L.

In my mind’s eye, it’s a seamless transition from scruffy tourer to sharply attired coffee drinker when I wear BXB’s musette bag.

There’s a range of fun colours available in Challenge Sailcloth’s Ultragrid. Mine is moss. The design is simple but well thought through, with a velcro closure and an inner pocket for a phone, charger, and cables, which the bag can then be stuffed into if you need to compress in size—described by BXB to be that of a Russett potato. A removable toggle helps stabilise the bag over rowdy terrain, and it weighs about 140g. While a mini backpack is certainly more comfortable over a long distance and lighter too—like the classic Sea to Summit Ultra-Sil Daypack or Apidura’s Packable Backpack—I prefer the way this chic musette transcends both day-to-day use and tours too. The price is $63.

Shokz Open Pro 2 Headphones

I know Nic recently extolled the virtues of riding without music and enjoying the sounds of nature bereft of distraction… but I’m not there yet. Cycling and music are my two greatest loves in life, people apart of course, so I actually enjoy combining the two.

Open Pros are easy to hang like a necklace when you’re not using them, which makes them hard to lose.

What’s more, compared to ‘in-ear’ headphones, these bone conduction ones don’t isolate me from the surrounding world. The right music even adds to it. I briefly tried a previous generation and just didn’t like the sound but these more recent ones—the OpenRun Pro 2s—sound great in my opinion. Things do break and it’s worth adding that after 15 months of owning them and many, many hours of use, they started to develop a rattling sound. The shop that I bought them from wouldn’t warranty them, as more than a year had passed. Thankfully they have a manufacturer’s warranty of two years. Fair play to Shokz, because once I’d sent in the relevant proof of purchase, they sent out a replacement immediately, and suggested I recycle the old ones. They cost about $180 but I managed to score mine when they were being discounted by 30%.

Ricoh GRIIIX Compact Camera

I’m often asked for camera recommendations. While I tend use a somewhat bulky setup that’s not necessarily required unless it’s ‘work related’ (see Lens Dabbling below), I like to suggest the Fujifilm X100 series of cameras, as long as you’re okay with the idea of a fixed lens and your budget allows. But as my favourite Fujifilm X100V has finally died a slow death, and second-hand replacements cost a small fortune (and its update, the Fujifilm X100VI, considerably more), I’ve deferred to a Ricoh GR that I also picked up second-hand a few years ago. I actually own the original film version but it’s nowhere to be found, so I’m guessing it must be languishing somewhere in a storage container.

It looks like a cheap camera but don’t fooled. It definitely isn’t.

In the interim, this digital update—mine’s the third generation, with my preferred 40mm-equivalent lens—is just as small and offers a similarly high image quality. Assuming you’re fine with a fixed lens setup—I actually find it quite a relief in terms of decision-making—I’m not sure that anything can beat these Ricohs in terms of physical size to image quality ratio. They’re also extremely discreet and inconspicuous, and only the trained eye will realise that they’re actually a premium camera.

Emma and I took this one to Colombia earlier in the year with the intention of using it for more snapshot-style people pics—and I’m really happy with some of the quick memories it captured and the way it kept everyone at ease. There are times when pulling out a big camera kills the moment, or just makes me feel weird, which also impacts that memory. I use mine kind of like the way I would a film camera. I just take photos without overthinking it too much or looking back at them on the screen, and download them every once in a while.

Just some of our Colombian friends. As a reference point, Emma is 5’6″, or 168cm.

There are some caveats though. Battery life isn’t the best, but luckily it’s USB-C chargeable from a power bank. Plus, the camera’s not weather sealed at all, which is especially disappointing given the price. It’s known to suffer from dust ingress to the sensor so I’ve taped mine up and treat it with kid gloves, storing it in a hip bag rather than a stem bag, for instance, as I would the old film version. And I do really miss the lack of a viewfinder of any kind, especially as the LCD screen isn’t that bright or clear. I bought this particular one second hand for about £600, if memory serves, but like all these little cameras, prices have sky rocketed recently. They now command upwards of £900, at least looking at MBP, though the Fuji x100vs are still a few hundred pounds more, if you can find them.

Just to be clear—these are premium compact cameras and there are certainly all kinds of more affordable point and shoots that are more than sufficient for a bikepacking trip, and will be far more enjoyable to use than pulling out your phone. But image quality-wise, the Fujis and the Ricohs are the ones to beat, it seems.

Lens Dabbling

I think we’re at a point now where digital cameras are so good that anything from the last decade or so will do a fantastic job at capturing extremely high-quality images, no matter the brand—whether you’re sharing on social media or printing. To some extent, perhaps the best camera is the one that feels comfortable in the hand, or a deal you might find at the time, or part of a system that has certain lenses you’re drawn to.

Taking advantage of Scott and Vaughn’s adept modelling skills to test out the vintage f2 135.

In fact, I realised that some of my very favourite images were taken on a much older Canon DSLR, when glass was less perfect and sharp, and there were less megapixels crammed onto sensors. Granted they were big systems, even if weight-wise, they weren’t that different from full frame mirrorless options now. They were certainly tougher, too. As a complete opposite to the minimal Ricoh and Fuji X100 mentioned above (yet actually similar in price, with a clutch of lenses too), it’s now possible to pick up some remarkable deals on once costly pro lenses and camera bodies. Or even, teaming the two. I have a new wave Canon R6 and with an adapter for old lenses, many of which cost a fraction of the price of their latest RF-mount equivalents. Should you decide to delve down the rabbit hole of lens adapters, there are all kinds of manual offerings that exude character and charm.

Bokehlicious bridleway sign.

As an example, I’ve recently been reunited with my Canon 135mm f2 and it’s been a joy to use on my R6, despite its obvious heft. Similarly, I still love the pancake 40mm f2.8, my go-to lens in the days of my Canon 5D Mark III. In an age of uncannily sticky focus tracking, the lens does feel slow—but it also makes taking a photo a more involved experience, which can be a welcome change. Recently, I even picked up a second hand DSLR body as a replacement to the now deceased workhorse pictured below. I look forward to experimenting with it soon and giving my right eyeball a break from a digital viewfinder.

I collected most of my favourite photos on this Canon 5D Mark 3. It cost £3000 new and now it can be picked up in £300 (and yes, in much better shape than mine).

Stretching to music and not to the news

As a keen bike traveller, I like to keep apprised of what’s going on in the world, especially when it concerns countries I’ve cycled through—Iran being a pertinent example, which I crossed in 2001 on a tandem. Playing a news podcast during my early morning, 20-minute stretching routine has long been the way I start my day, as it’s hard wheedle out of a such a modest time commitment. The movements, incidentally, are a kind of mellow yoga/relaxation/press-up-based medley, something I learned on a bike tour in India that I’ve repeated over the last couple of decades. However, I recently noticed that keeping too much in the news loop wasn’t actually doing me any good. It had me worrying about our future, and feeling a state of anxiety that wasn’t setting me up well for the day. If it’s not a war, it’s another example of the climate crisis.

I’m currently semi-obsessed by Caught in Joy. Not that I need further distraction, but his Youtube channel is relaxing to watch, too.

So, I’ve replaced news with ambient music. Current affairs can wait until I’ve had a coffee to ready myself for what disaster is being thrown at us next. I’ve been thoroughly enjoying Samuel Organ’s Portal album, as featured in this fantastic post, and I recently came across an excellent, ‘real music’, analogue electrica YouTube account called Caught in Joy. Where The City Becomes a Memory‘ is quite the soundscape and, not that I need further distraction, watching artist Karol Pokojowczyk at work, twiddling dials and moving from one Moog to another is strangely enjoyable too. Aside from the usual Eno-esque classics, the seminal album Music for Nitrous Oxide by Stars of the Lid has been on my recent playlist—highly recommended if you’re up for some intense atmospheric vibes. Any suggestions, particularly of the cinematic kind, are appreciated!

Bike Dabbling

Over these last few years, I’ve focused on ‘less is more’ in terms bikes. But this year, I’m back to ‘bike dabbling’ again. I have to admit that trying different bikes for the sheer joy of trying different bikes is something I sometimes missed. After all, we all go through different stages in our lives: big tyres, skinny tyres, flat bars, drop bars, light bikes, heavy bikes, even e-assist (there, I’ve said it). Perhaps this is driven by a change in where we live and the roads and trails we have access to, or even advancing years, where different geometries become more relevant. Either way, it’s probably a good idea not to be too dogmatic about the bikes you think you like, because things do change.

Tom and his Dead Forest Cicada, as fabricated by Stayer Cycles. Only a few months old, but it could be years.

And, given how much I love to ride, I’ve always enjoyed having access to a collection of steeds to suit different moods, or even help inspire me to get out if ever I’m feeling in the doldrums. That’s no reflection on the undoubted satisfaction of having just one bike or two bikes—more on my own foibles, if we’re to call them that. As an example, I really enjoyed my brief spin on Tom Farrell’s Insta-lauded Dead Forest Cicada. This steel, drop-bar bike, designed by Woods Cyclery Tom and beautifully brazed by Stayer Cycles, harkens back to the wholesome tradition of compliant frames, cantilever brakes, and a French-fit-style aesthetic—just a fistful of exposed seat post and not a dropper in sight—though it does accommodate up to 29 x 2.6in rubber, regaining some off-road confidence there. More on his bike in the future when I hope to try one on a longer term basis.

Further bike sampling includes the possible loan of a Fairlight Faran. Believe it or not, I used to spend much of my time touring on a cyclocross bike, and the urge to hit those French back lanes and fill my belly with pain au chocolat (just a ferry ride away from Poole and the Purbeck Hills) is getting stronger once again. I’ve always wanted to try a mid/low-trail bike too.

A new addition to my UK bike roster

Here in the UK, I have access to my Stooge Rambler (as exhaustively detailed in my recent IOW post) and a steel Jones that’s now being rededicated to monster tyres, which I feel is the LWB Happy Place. For the foreseeable future and to help differentiate it from my other bikes, a Dura Crux will be in charge of ironing out the bumpiest of bridleways, whilst a Maxxis Rekon+ at the back allows for greater mud clearance, very much a necessity for UK riding as winter looms.

The Jones LWB is back in its happy place.

Rather excitingly, however, Emma brought with her from the US a new bike for me to try, a US-made prototype from a yet-to-be-launched micro brand called Wave Bike Co, set up by a Washington-based friend I first met in Oaxaca. Landon Holt is quite the trail rider and his proposed SuperMutt is different from what I’d normally ride: a rigid-specific 29er with clearances for ‘just’ 2.4s, a short rear end, a 67-degree head tube angle, and a telescope-like 170mm dropper post. Given the tyre size, it’s not a steed I’d normally gravitate towards. But I’ve nerded out enough with Landon about all things bikes, and seen him in action riding trails, to know that whatever he designed would likely be something special.

So far, the SuperMutt has confidently knitted city cuts to woodland trails, with a day yomp in Wales too.

Landon and I share the same frame size and he built up this SuperMutt in a way he envisaged it best being used, rolling on a set of Revel SLs with a DT350 DEG hub and some fast-rolling Continental rubber front and rear. He’s designed the bike to be compatible with a gravel chainline, so there’s a Rival crankset to make the most of the accompanying narrow Q-factor, along with a set of comfortable SQlab 3OX 16° handlebars, powerful 4-piston Shimano SLX brakes, and a long 170mm OneUp V3 dropper post to get you out of trouble, should you find yourself cooking things a bit too fast.

I’ve already put the SuperMutt to excellent use zipping around Bristol on once-familiar bike paths, and diving through city traffic, en route to after-work woodland singletrack swoops with friends. I’ve always enjoyed riding rigid bikes with dropper posts—I much prefer them over suspension bikes without, for instance—and with the SuperMutt set up in this way, I’ve been surprised by its confident poise and trail manners down steep, rocky, and rooty chutes, and I was able to dispatch the deceptively named Picnic Bench, a local precarious classic, with relative ease. With its rigid fork, the SuperMutt has made quick work of countryside back lanes, too. Adam Nicholson, of San Util Designs and who I met this summer in Colorado, was kind enough to make me a frame bag that looks fabulous in pink and black, and fits like a glove. More on this bike later in the year!

If there’s anything you’d like to know more about, feel free to ask in the Comments below. If you have some great ambient soundscapes to share—particularly anything that’s good to work to—please let me know!

Further Reading

Make sure to dig into these related articles for more info...