Wheels of fortune
Above: Witcomb Cycles in Deptford © www.andy-matthews.co.uk
When you think of custom tailored suits you think of Saville Row; when you think of handmade shirts you think of Jermyn Street. But when you think of a custom made bicycle, chances are that you wouldn’t think of Tanner’s Hill in Deptford. This, however, is where the last remaining shop in London specialising in building you a one-off bicycle to your measurements has its home.
Walking into the shop feels like entering a living museum of bicycle building. Classic Witcomb frames are on display and plans are afoot to mount hundreds of old photographs gathered from over the years. The building dates from the 17th century but the shop is currently being modernised to bring the interior bang up to date.
The workshop is where the action happens though, and here you really are transported back to a time gone by. There are hundreds of small Oxo tins containing all the essential nuts and washers, frames awaiting repair, wheels being built and bikes being fixed. Over time the workshop has produced countless frames and repaired many, many more.
"It’s less of a shop and more of a happening," insists one regular patron. The Witcomb family has been building bikes in Deptford since 1928, but it wasn’t until 1949 that they moved to their current street, and then in 1952 to their current shop. Mr Whitcomb – who recently celebrated his 90th birthday – still works in the shop two days a week and is known for casting a critical eye over his son Barry’s handiwork.
A high point for the brand arrived 1958 when a Witcomb frame competed in the Tour de France. Through the 1960s and 70s the workshop was producing frames not only for the UK market but also for the growing international trade, as well as providing a base for those from overseas who wanted to learn the craft. Some Witcomb trainees such as Ben Serotta and Dave Sachs have since become the most respected framebuilders in the US, with queues of up to five years for one of their custom bikes.
Back in Deptford, however, the 80s and 90s were lean years, thanks to the growth in popularity of the mountain bike and the influx of cheap overseas imports. Recently however there has been a surge of interest in owning a custom handmade frame. With more and more people spending time on their bikes for health or commuting, they increasingly want to ride something personal, fitted and beautiful. A bike made by a craftsman can make you want to get out and ride, when a soulless machine-made bike might just sit rusting in the shed.
The concept of taking time over things to get them just right – to enjoy the journey as much as the arrival – is gaining momentum again in our culture. Witcomb Cycles has always built bikes in this way, holistically taking the best ingredients, making sure that they suit the rider, planning the end product and then constructing it using other local suppliers for anything from the tubing to the hand-painted logo on the headtube. It is a slow process but the end result is like a meal from your own garden or a fine wine from a small chateau.
Reports about the quality of a Witcomb frame used to spread through word of mouth or the occasional advertisement in a specialist magazine, but now there is a growing movement for this unique enterprise. There is a supporters’ club in the UK and one in the US; there’s a Flickr group and a YouTube channel. The shop’s new website includes a five-minute feature cine-film about Witcomb dating from the 70s, which was found when a partition wall was moved for the current building works.
One of the hundreds of other historical items in the shop is a logbook of all the frames made and sold since the 60s including the name of the customer, their measurements, the frame type and its destination. The frames have been sold to enthusiasts from New York to Los Angeles, China, Japan and all over the UK. So if Mr Akira from Tokyo who bought his frame in 1970 needs a replacement rear end, the framebuilder can look up his exact measurements in the book, much like traditional tailors have been doing for years.
Barry explains, "Having a bike built is like having a suit made for you – it’s a personal thing." A complex blend of craft and science, making a frame takes about two months. Before wheeling his or her new prize out of the shop, a customer will have contributed input about all the details, from size to components to colour. But the relationship with the builder doesn’t stop there. Many frames crop up years after they first left the store for a respray and freshen up before being returned to their owner in tip-top condition.
"Metalwork was one of my worst subjects at school," says Barry, who still makes most of the frames that bear his family’s marque. He also trains apprentices from the local community college in the trade so that the tradition carries on should he ever be allowed to retire. It is hard not to be impressed with the spirit of Witcomb Cycles. The long-term commitment of their clientele stands as testament to the passion for quality which the Witcomb family have demonstrated for the years – long may it continue.