When Rudyard Kipling wrote The Elephant’s Child, he did not have bike lights in mind. But I thought of the poor little pachyderm the day I bought the CatEye that was going to solve all my lighting problems.
The EL-220, I was assured, was perfect for the urban commuter. It used “five bright white opticube LEDs in a compact configuration”. More mundanely, it was waterproof, would not switch itself on when bumped around in my bag, and had batteries with 60 hours of cycling life. Just one problem – it was so well sealed that I couldn’t for the life of me prise it open to put the batteries in. Not having Kipling’s Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake on hand, I had to call on my colleagues for support. But the combined brains and brawn of the Guardian was unequal to the task of pulling it apart.
This pretty much sums up my relationship with bicycle lights. There are so many of them on the market, their specifications so technical, that every attempt to understand them leaves me protesting, like Kipling’s elephant child through his crocodile-stretched trunk: “This is too butch for be!”
There are some principles that are down to common sense. The Department for Transport’s regulations for road vehicles, for instance, state that in the hours of darkness, bicyles should have a red light at the back and a white one at the front. It also demands a red rear reflector and four amber pedal reflectors.
It is when you get into the finer details that the debates start to rage (and on lighting, as on all other issues, every cyclist has a different opinion).
Is it safer, for instance, to have a constant beam or one that flashes? Anecdotal evidence would suggest that many riders feel safer with flashing lighting – and the DfT has bowed to their belief that it distinguishes cyclists from other road traffic. Since 2005, it has been legal to have flashing lights, provided they have a strength of four candela and emit between one and four flashes a second. So what do you do if your smart new LED light blinks away at twice that rate?
I have a generous friend who has been dispensing dinky little Knog lights like sweets to the youth of north London. This hip new Australian firm (knog.com.au) makes silicone-encased, disposable “Frog” lights which, it claims, can be seen from 600m away, but at a 45-degree angle, their pencil-sharp beams barely register – one of the problems with LEDs. And there is also an issue with the arc of light. The Frog might be fine to alert oncoming traffic, but it’s not going to pick out the conkers that are such a hazard in my local park at this time of year.
Most cyclists will do a certain amount of customising depending on what sort of cycling they are going to do – there are times, for instance, when helmet-mounted lights are far more effective than handlebar-mounted ones. But could using one land you with a police fine? The good news, according to the cyclists’ organisation CTC, is that the police turn a blind eye provided you have got reasonable lights and they are the right colour. “The bad news is that a lawyer might take a different view. If you were in an accident at night and were using unapproved lights, the lawyer could try to make a case for contributory negligence.”
Things become much more complicated when you begin to look into how to power your lights.
Batteries have a limited lifespan and rechargable ones are effective only if you remember to recharge them. In much of continental Europe, inbuilt dynamo lights are the norm, but these go out when you stop, namely at junctions, where most accidents happen, although a couple of manufacturers have solved this problem.
In our energy-conscious era, self-generating lights would seem to be the way to go. I like the sound of Anklelite, a new solar-powered variation on the trouser-clip, which will go on sale shortly. But if you want a subsidiary light source to keep you safe, there’s evidence that the best place to have it is on your arms, as armlights encourage motorists to give you a wider berth.
Since there’s also evidence that, in cities, high-visibility clothing can be as effective as lights, I think I’ll go and get myself a pair of fluorescent armbands.
· This article was amended on Friday October 10 2008. Rudyard Kipling’s story about how the elephant got its trunk is called The Elephant’s Child, not How the Elephant Got his Trunk. This has been changed
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