Many a ragger has sat outside The Hurtwood Inn staring at the empty mock Tudor shed opposite and at the upside–down bikes being fettled up and down the village thinking ‘it’d make a great spot for a bike shop’. Local boy Howard thought the same and in 2009, ‘used the only grand that didn’t get sunk into bars whilst I was travelling to buy a rucksack full of brake pads and tubes and a six month lease’, meaning it became a (sort of) bike shop again as it had been during World War 2. I’m chatting to Howard on a hot, late October Sunday. We’re sat against the cutesy wooden ‘Peaslake’ sign set in its own manicured lawn in the middle of the road between his shop and the pub. Howard’s dressed like a surfer between tides in shorts, t–shirt and flip–flops and we start chatting about the obvious parallels between the Peaslake vibe and that of a surf–spot. I ask him if he set out to create a focal point for the scene and he’s gracious, ‘since there was mountain biking here there’s always been a ‘scene’ because of Peaslake Stores’ homemade food and of course the car park and pub’. I agree but remind him that the ‘bus stop’ is no longer the place to be seen, his shop is. ‘Maybe’, is all I can get out of him but his grin makes me think I’m right.

Just like the surf scene Pedal and Spoke has its grommets; young lads that may or may not work there but seem to know everyone and everything. ‘The Rat’ (or Jack as his mum prefers) rolls in every Sunday, not really getting the fact his school work experience placement finished ages ago. His ‘job’ is to remind everyone just how possible it is to be into bikes. Guy is another breezy one who will plug you into the zeitgeist, giving you the feeling you’ve read every bike mag’ that month. Ferg’ (mechanic) and Lawrence (shop) are full time and like the groms have chain lube for blood, dishing out advice and experience whether you buy anything or not. One thing that drives Ferg’ mad though is people who don’t ever drop a few quid in the Friends of the Hurtwood collection box on the counter. He sounds rightly peeved when he tells me that ‘people come here to ride the trails but don’t really think about the cost involved in making them or how much the fire roads and fences cost to maintain. Of course we’ll lend tools but you’ve got to put something back, surely?’

A ramshackle shop, grommets, staff who take it in turns to ‘nip out for an hour’ to ride, a cool van and a massive car park at the foot of the trails all make the village a place to re–visit a few times during your ride rather than just at the beginning and end of it. It gives the day an unquantifiable feeling which any surfer from anywhere in the world would recognise. I ask Howard about the relationship he’s got with the pub and the local shop. Since he opened there are a lot more flat, wide bars around and a lot more moto–shorts. Bikes like yours with people like you on them I suppose. This development was watched pretty closely by the locals but with a glint in his eye Howard says ‘we’re one big, happy family.’ He means it and tells me the shop and pub owners like to mother the boys from Pedal and Spoke with ‘sandwiches, a full–English and a lemonade and lime depending on whether they’ve seen us come in from a shop ride or turn up late after a big night’.

The presence of the bike shop has obvious benefits for all parties and they all contribute to the connectedness of the place like they’re all branches of the same tree. I’ve seen injured raggers turn up with their more able–bodied mates to just hang out in the village, talking bike with the boys from the shop and getting slowly pissed whilst their mates hammer the trails, one of which ends, literally, at the shop’s tiny garden/bike wash. And what trails! I’ve been riding there for almost a decade and it’s only recently I’ve managed to get a handle on how my favourite bits hang together because there’s not one long, flowing trail, rather countless sections that you bolt together depending on your mood. Out with your fat uncle; do these bits. Out with a mate from Canada; do these. Like a tub of plasticine, it’s what you make it. If you haven’t got years to explore then make sure you get there for around 10am on Sunday because the shop–ride led by Richard Kelley of All Biked Up drags out of the car park and into the web of trails after a loosely democratic decision about what the group want to ride. All the way ‘round Richard will point stuff out to you and if you like the sound of it, knock yourself out. Actually, you might because with Ollie Wilkins and Bernard Kerr building up here, and Brendan Fairclough being no stranger, there’s some insanely tasty stuff to keep your learning curve nice and steep.