It's why Velovie exists. We moved from London to Mallorca and opened a cycling café. Because we wanted to build a community, not just be part of one.
It all started on our sofa in London, where we chose the name Velovie. Then over Christmas at Elsa's parents' house in the south of France, we registered the company over, cheese and a growing certainty that this was the right thing to do.
Nine weeks later, we were on the island of Mallorca picking up the keys to a dusty old restaurant we'd never seen before. We refurbished it ourselves over three months — with our own hands, a lot of borrowed tools, and two people who had no business doing what they were about to do
We opened the Clubhouse. A cycling café in the heart of one of the greatest cycling destinations on earth. It was everything we'd dreamed of.
We built a community from scratch. Rode with the pros. Made friends who came back year after year. Drew a massive map of the island on the wall, pinned every café, every col, every climb worth the suffering — and put every GPX file and route guide on the website for free.
The idea was simple: come for a coffee, check the map, download the routes, join the WhatsApp. Someone from the community will ride with you, and you'll go home with new friends. No guide fees. No strangers charging you to show you somewhere beautiful.
We started making kit. People wore it. People wanted it.
But here's the honest version: running a café kept us off the bike. We wanted to be at the café stop - not making the coffees. We wanted to be IN it. Not watching the group rides leave towards the sunrise from behind the espresso machine.
After two years, we made the call. Packed it in. Moved back to London. And started Velovie again - this time without the café, but with everything Mallorca taught us.
The kit is built the way we'd want to buy it: real specs, no shortcuts on construction, prices that earn their place. The guides exist because we believe you shouldn't have to pay a stranger to show you somewhere. The community — the VCC — is the whole point. It's why we started, why we came back, and what we're most proud of.
And next year, there'll be a camper van with a Rocket espresso machine in the back. One of us driving to the meeting point, one of us leading the ride, home-baked cakes on the tailgate when you get back.
Elsa
Elsa grew up in Toulouse going to Tour de France stages with her family. Her clearest memory isn't the racing, it's the roadside picnic, the caravan throwing sweets into the crowd, the whole brilliant chaos of it. And getting Lance Armstrong's autograph outside the team hotel after a stage, which felt like everything at the time.
She spent a decade in London before spending 2 years in Mallorca, commuting on a heavy mountain bike because it was the bike she had. Started going a little further each time. Then one day decided to ride to Cambridge as a challenge. Bad roads, wrong kit, no real plan, loved every minute, and rode back the next day.
She's always been creative. Colour, styles combination, the way things look together: that instinct has followed her into everything she does. These days it goes into the kit.
Jamie
Grew up in Hampshire. Spent twenty years in London, fifteen in tech - and somewhere along the way became the kind of person who owns twelve bikes, has named every one of them, and considers a Sunday morning on the toolbox with a cup of tea and a Kit Kat the greatest luxury on earth.
He'll spot your bike's brand and groupset from a hundred yards. His friends call him Hobbit. He travelled eight hours by train to collect a Boardman 9.8 Air from a car park and has never been so happy in his life.
Together we chose the name, registered the company, refurbished our restaurant with our own hands and built a community in the Mediterranean sun. Then we moved back to London so we can do it all properly.