I cycled the length of all London’s Cycling Superhighways. Here’s what I learnt

Safe, bruv. Image: Getty.

The blue lane. The blue lane is what you concentrate on as you ride the cycle superhighways: the one or sometimes two metre thick painted channel between the pavement and traffic, between safety and danger. Sometimes the blue lane is segregated from the road; more often, you’re just part of the road, but with your own space clearly designated.

Sadiq Khan has promised to spend £770m on cycling over the four years of his term - £17 per Londoner, a record amount for the city – part of which will go on two new cycle superhighways. Ahead of that, it’s seemed reviewing the current cycling infrastructure in London. So I decided to cycle all of the superhighways, and take in just how much they’ve changed London.

I love cycling in London: there is something thrilling in going so fast in a city, especially when there is traffic congestion all around. This is what the superhighways are supposed to do: allow the cyclist to speed by, separated from the main road traffic and all the danger that entails.

There are seven current cycle superhighways, helpfully numbered CS1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7 and 8. The network stretches from Tottenham in the north to Colliers Wood in the south, and Stratford in the east to Lancaster Gate in the south. The missing CS4, heading from London Bridge towards Woolwich, is supposed to go into consultation this year; there are also plans for CS9 from Hounslow to Olympia, and a CS11 heading north west from the West End, through Regent’s Park. (What was planned as CS10 may end up as a western extension of CS3.) The point of the new routes is to make cycling safer, faster, and more appealing in the capital.

The plan as of 2012: not all these routes survived. Image: TfL.

The jewel in the crown is CS3, especially the section from Tower Hill to Westminster, which snakes around the curve of the Thames and completely segregates the bike rider from the main flow of traffic. Cycling along it, one can really appreciate the majesty of the Victoria Embankment – something that was previously impossible as you focused on dodging buses and lorries.

The best parts of the network are always those with separated cycle lane: CS3 along the Embankment and into Wapping, and the north-south superhighway CS6. What you soon learn though, riding the blue lanes, is that it is not always like this. For every safe, well built stretch of superhighway, there is a poorly managed part.

On CS7, as it passes through Balham towards Tooting, there are cars constantly parked in the cycle lane, along with drivers who don’t appreciate the sanctity of your metre-wide blue haven. On stretches like this, the superhighway might as well not exist. You find yourself needing to dodge buses anyway – what’s the point, when all that is different is the colour of the tarmac and a name?

While the scheme is a mayoral project, the infrastructure is actually put in place by each individual borough. That’s what creates this fantastic mismatch as you hurtle through London, and CS7 is the perfect example: Southwark and Lambeth seem to care about the cyclist; Wandsworth, on the other hand, seems to think the cycle lane is an afterthought, something to be shoved onto the side of the road.


CS1 is the newest route to be fully completed, running from Tottenham to the City. But it doesn’t seem to be very ‘super’: it’s more like a glorified Quietway (another form of London cycle route, linking up quieter back roads), only with blue branding. It’s also a genuinely confusing route, requiring careful checking of signs and road markings.

Superhighways are easy to follow when they are just a blue lane; a bit trickier when there are only occasionally reminders of their existence. The sight of someone stopping just to attempt to decode a blue sign isn’t a particularly edifying one, especially when you’ve had to pull over to the side of a main road to do so.

Cycling infrastructure in London still has a long way to go to make cycling safer: cars still turn without checking, or drive straight into the cycle lane. This is something that can be solved with segregated sections and separate traffic lights for cyclists, like there are on other parts of the network. Nonetheless, according to the London Cycling Campaign, 6 cyclists died on CS2 between 2011 and 2014; since then the route, formerly of the blue paint variety, has been largely separated from the traffic.

CS2 highlights another problem: how to cope with pedestrians blindly wandering into the cycle lane after they are disgorged from buses at bus stops. Inevitably, all they want to do is swear at you, and explaining that they’re standing in a cycle superhighway doesn’t particularly help. The route also features signs that can take a long time to understand – “turn right in two stages only”, “go left in order to go right” – all very entertaining as you attempt to cycle quickly into the wind.

The best superhighway has to be what used to be CS6, now more often termed the “North-South superhighway”, which at the moment  runs from Elephant & Castle to the Holborn Viaduct. The route is clear, the cycle lane stands completely apart from the traffic, and the dedicated traffic lights work without a hitch. You even get a fantastic view of St Paul’s as you cross Ludgate Circus. It is no wonder that Blackfriars Bridge resembles the peloton of the Tour de France on a weekday morning.

Cycle Superhighways are in their infancy, and there is no doubt that those that exist leave a lot to be desired. Yet everyone should have a go at riding within the blue line and explore London. It made me go to Colliers Wood for the first time in my life: there’s no reason why others can’t do the same.

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To make electric vehicles happen, the government must devolve energy policy to councils

The future. Image: Getty.

Last week, the Guardian revealed that at least a quarter of councils have halted the roll-out of electric vehicle (EV) charging infrastructure with no plans to resume its installation. This is a fully charged battery-worth of miles short of ideal, given the ambitious decarbonisation targets to which the UK is rightly working.

It’s even more startling given the current focus on inclusive growth, for the switch to EVs is an economic advancement, on an individual and societal level. Decarbonisation will free up resources and push growth, but the way in which we go about it will have impacts for generations after the task is complete.

If there is one lesson that has been not so much taught to us as screamed at us by recent history, it is that the market does not deliver inclusivity by itself. Left to its own devices, the market tends to leave people behind. And people left behind make all kinds of rational decisions, in polling stations and elsewhere that can seem wholly irrational to those charged with keeping pace – as illuminted in Jeremy Harding’s despatch from the ‘periphery’ which has incubated France’s ‘gilet jaunes’ in the London Review of Books.

But what in the name of Nikola Tesla has any of this to do with charging stations? The Localis argument is simple: local government must work strategically with energy network providers to ensure that EV charging stations are rolled out equally across areas, to ensure deprived areas do not face further disadvantage in the switch to EVs. To do so, Ofgem must first devolve certain regulations around energy supply and management to our combined authorities and city regions.


Although it might make sense now to invest in wealthier areas where EVs are already present, if there isn’t infrastructure in place ahead of demand elsewhere, then we risk a ‘tale of two cities’, where decarbonisation is two-speed and its benefits are two-tier.

The Department for Transport (DfT) announced on Monday that urban mobility will be an issue for overarching and intelligent strategy moving forward. The issue of fairness must be central to any such strategy, lest it just become a case of more nice things in nice places and a further widening of the social gap in our cities.

This is where the local state comes in. To achieve clean transport across a city, more is needed than just the installation of charging points.  Collaboration must be coordinated between many of a place’s moving parts.

The DfT announcement makes much of open data, which is undoubtedly crucial to realising the goal of a smart city. This awareness of digital infrastructure must also be matched by upgrades to physical infrastructure, if we are going to realise the full network effects of an integrated city, and as we argue in detail in our recent report, it is here that inclusivity can be stitched firmly into the fabric.

Councils know the ins and outs of deprivation within their boundaries and are uniquely placed to bring together stakeholders from across sectors to devise and implement inclusive transport strategy. In the switch to EVs and in the wider Future of Mobility, they must stay a major player in the game.

As transport minister and biographer of Edmund Burke, Jesse Norman has been keen to stress the founding Conservative philosopher’s belief in the duty of those living in the present to respect the traditions of the past and keep this legacy alive for their own successors.

If this is to be a Burkean moment in making the leap to the transformative transport systems of the future, Mr Norman should give due attention to local government’s role as “little platoons” in this process: as committed agents of change whose civic responsibility and knowledge of place can make this mobility revolution happen.

Joe Fyans is head of research at the think tank Localis.