A home visit with Richard Kapp from Celtic Cycles: The all-rounder Celtic Cycles Chadh on test
These topics can be found in the portrait of Celtic Cycles:
General information on choosing the right bike
If you're looking for a mountain bike, you have to decide before you buy. Do you want to go on sporty tours on easy gravel paths? Or are you more in the mood for fast descents? For every riding style there is Suitable bike category. This makes choosing the mountain bike of your dreams easy, but also complicated. If you are looking for a downhill fully - for example a All Mountain - you get the perfect bike in this segment. However, long tours are out of the question. The reverse is also true. A light Marathon MTB guarantees fun on long rides, but excludes visits to the bike park.
No more stress with installation standards
The Freiburg inventor Richard Kapp did not want to accept this. He wanted to design a Fully that could do everything. And at the same time MTB installation standards is flexible. Boost standard or non-boost, thru axle or 9 mm quick release, it doesn't matter. Everything can be fitted to the all-round bike from Celtic Cycles thanks to a clever adapter system.
In the nineties, the inventor, who is now 70 years old, had already achieved fame with a downhill bike that he had designed for the then downhill star Manfred Stromberg. The bike was called Blue Torsion, based on the blue box, which contained a torsion spring.
Celtic Cycles: Every detail a clever customised solution
The name of the new bike project: Celtic Cycles. The model is called Chadh. It consists of a carbon frame and an adjustable aluminium rear triangle. The highlight: shocks with different installation lengths can be fitted, making suspension travel of 80 to 130 millimetres possible. The seat stays are telescopic so that they can be adjusted in length. This allows the steering angle to be corrected. The length of the rear triangle is flexible thanks to bolted and interchangeable dropouts. Adapters allow different rear wheel axles to be fitted. A thoroughly creative mountain bike that is soon to be launched on the market in small series. Our BIKE reporter paid Richard Kapp a visit. We also had the exclusive opportunity to ride the prototype extensively.
The Celtic Cycles Chadh on test
Suspension travel, wheels, geometry: the Celtic adapts to the rider's wishes. But does this make the rider perfectly happy?
The eyes are hopelessly overwhelmed at first. What a density of details! The flowing, moulded carbon main frame at the front. Milled art at the rear. The angular chainstays set far forward on the down tube. The bolt-on and interchangeable dropouts. The telescopic seat stays, which can be used to adjust the geometry if a longer shock is used. The second, free-standing shock mount in our setup, which makes this possible. The look is subordinate to the ambitious concept: a frame for
everything, whether minimum suspension travel or 130 millimetres.
Our test bike comes with the sportiest setup. The test machine squeezes 84 millimetres out of the rear triangle. This puts the Celtic Cycle in competition with the Trek Supercalibre. Overpowering footprints, it seems. Because at just under 12 kilos ready to ride, the Celtic is no lightweight in this suspension travel category. This makes it all the more astonishing how light-footed the Fully is on the trails. The elegant Tune wheels relativise the overall weight thanks to good acceleration. In addition, the suspension is highly sensitive without disturbing the smooth pedalling.
You float over the trails as if on a cushion of air. Similar to the Supercaliber. However, the Celtic responds to pedalling with more bobbing than the Trek, at least when the shock is open. The platform mode keeps the rocking in check. The geometry has a somewhat old-school character. Which also has good points. It makes the bike agile, strong on climbs and allows the rider to sit in a relaxed position. However, it requires an experienced hand on fast or tricky downhill sections.
The only real point of criticismThe rear triangle is so wide that your calves can rub against it.
The company portrait of Celtic Cylces
Tinkerer Richard Kapp briefly achieved fame in the nineties with a futuristic fully. Back then, there was only downhill and cross country. Unlike today, where nobody can see through the constantly changing categories and installation standards. Richard sensed that he had to do it again. His bike, which can do everything, is now to go into small-scale production.
Everything is real. The moment, the house and even Richard Kapp, who invites you into his garage with an inviting hand gesture. And yet it's surreal. It's like looking back to the early days of mountain biking with virtual reality goggles. Back to the wild nineties, where the great technological innovations were cooked up in dimly lit workshop huts. In stalls like this one.
"It's not a licked parking tool workshop - it's creative chaos," laughs Richard in Baden singsong, noticing the reporter's irritated look. Wherever you look, there are boxes, bicycles, junk and tools. Creative chaos instead of an engineering office. So this is the birthplace of the miracle mountain bike that is soon to be launched on the market. A bike that adapts to the rider. That has 80 millimetres of suspension travel, or 130 millimetres. That accepts wheels of all axle standards and is variable in geometry. Depending on what the owner wants.
Richard Kapp, sun-kissed skin, Johnny Cash hairstyle - was already developing frames and components in the 90s to make biking more practical. The man from Baden is one of those solution-seekers who are plentiful in Baden-Württemberg and who have helped the inventor state to become world-famous. Whether it was for his wife at home, in his job as a mechanical engineer or in his spare time, Richard worked almost around the clock. He is now seventy and retired. But his inventive spirit never rests.
"We now want to turn our hobby into a business," says Richard.
His ambitious project began a few years ago, fuelled by the innovation tsunami of the mountain bike industry. Almost every year, the industry presented new categories and installation standards. What had just been hailed as the future at the trade fairs had already achieved old-timer status a season later. The models became more and more specialised, while older accessories could no longer be used due to the new installation dimensions. Richard realised that a solution had to be found. And developed the maximum variable mountain bike. To be able to produce it, he needed advance orders. At least 30 units. The baking moulds for the carbon frames have already been made and are waiting to be used in China. Carbon fibre frames are expensive.
"I can't just produce into the blue," says Richard.
A narrow staircase leads down one floor. This is where Richard worked on his baby, a marathon and touring bike. He christened it Chadh. Which is Celtic and means warrior, or fighter. Although he likes the latter better. In the darkness of the cellar, there is a story of Richard's passion for development behind every door. The workbench, for example, which you can tell has been used for a lot of screwing, planing and turning, was once used by his father. A rusty vice, screwdrivers and files.
"I leave everything as it is out of respect," says Richard.
In the room at the end of the corridor, he stores aged downhill frames and loose rear triangles. He built them in the 90s for downhill rider Manfred Stromberg, who was a celebrity in the scene at the time.
The room in which he conceived his chadh is opposite. Here is the large drawing board where it all began. With a pencil drawing and lots of wings and pivot points cut out of cardboard. Richard bought a CAD programme, but expensive updates soon became necessary. The service employee charged three quarters of an hour's travel time for just eight kilometres. Richard could not accept this and went back to using a pencil. He used a calculator to work out the pedal kickback and damper progression.
"Everything used to be designed like this - sewing machines, aeroplanes, cars. It worked too," says Richard.
His favourite thing to do in the evening is to tinker, turn up the stereo and listen to Cody Jinks, Deep Purple or Johnny Cash. "Super cool," says Richard. He likes to use words like super easy, super fast or super simple. Richard is an optimist. He is convinced that his plan will work and that people will want to buy his bikes.
Old marathon start numbers hang in one of the basement rooms, with a battered tennis racket dangling above them. Richard stares at the broken frame as if the maltreated racket symbolises a past life.
"That's the past, but that's how I used to be," says Richard.
There was a time when he used to smash his racket in anger when he lost a match.
Immediately after retiring, Richard's GP diagnosed burnout and depression. The psychologists prescribed tablets, but they didn't help. On the contrary: everything got worse. Richard couldn't come to terms with retirement either. Instead of biking endlessly, his back was aching. The cars also made him ill, he says. A country road runs right next to his house. For years, he fought to have the road sign moved further towards the end of the village to calm the traffic. He spent entire weekends at the side of the road, counting cars and proving that 80 per cent of the traffic is fun traffic. Motorbikes and quad bikes. "Sometimes 1200 vehicles an hour," says Richard. As he talks, you can tell how much the subject must have preoccupied him. But that was back then. The two thick Leitz folders with evidence and arguments were taken over by a friend from the tennis club who is a lawyer. He has been dealing with the issue ever since. Richard also stopped taking the tablets at some point. The doctors shook their heads and expected a relapse. But the opposite happened. Everything got better. In retrospect, Richard suspects that the psychological problems were side effects of the painkillers he had to take because of a slipped disc.
Instead of continuing to deal with negative things, he set his mind on designing bikes not only for himself, but also for other bikers. His wife and friends encouraged him in his endeavours. He wanted his bike to be much better and not so expensive.
"I wanted to build an honest bike, for honest people," says Richard.
He is not a businessman anyway. In his entire career, he has never once asked for a pay rise. Getting rich with his chadh? No, that's not what he's after, Richard emphasises. He is currently planning to charge 2699 euros for the frame with shock.
"That's fair," says the developer.
With his Chadh, he favours maximum adjustability: a mullet structure, interchangeable dropouts, a long swingarm and a main pivot point that is positioned far forward. "No other manufacturer offers that," says Richard. He doesn't believe in cumbersome standards. Cheap, quickly worn bearings in expensive bikes even make him angry.
"That's super shit," says Richard.
He also can't understand why people spend thousands of euros on a bike. He reads comments in forums, finds out what's in vogue and researches what bikers really need. He wants to build a bike that is as practical and durable as a pipe wrench.
Not having to adhere to any company policy as a developer is something that appeals to every designer. He may not have the financial background or the structures, but he does have a free hand, whereas with large manufacturers, everyone wants to have a say and product managers put the brakes on costs when selecting components and bearings. He doesn't want to hear that as a designer you sometimes get too caught up in the details. Richard is convinced of his bike. Tennis buddy and mountain bike veteran Mike Kluge from the neighbouring village also likes what Richard has designed. The designer does the testing himself.
Anyone who thinks that Richard only brakes down bland forest roads is mistaken. On challenging trails, he likes to take his hands off the brakes and leave the throttle on. Which he immediately proves on a short test ride.
"I have full confidence in the Chadh. Super cool," says Richard.
He would prefer to get the frame moulds from China and have them produced in Europe. He likes the idea of Made in Europe and the associated short delivery routes and the added reliability. He is constantly in trouble with suppliers and customs. Just a few weeks ago, he was supposed to pay 700 euros in customs duties. A mistake by an official, as it turned out after a lot of back and forth. Appealing, phoning around, looking for papers. Stress that many pensioners would not expose themselves to after a long working life.
"For me, that's positive stress," grins Richard as he leads the reporter out of the garage again after the tour. The sunlight is dazzling. Birds are chirping. A lorry thunders past on the road. It's as if, after hours in a dimly lit, romantic virtual reality universe
catapulted back into bright, real life.
