Electric bicycles can get people out of the traffic and into the bike lane.

WHAT if a bicycle could flatten the hills for you? Or help you commute sweat-and lycra-free?

A bike store in Carlton has begun a rolling, four-year trial into why and how people use electric bikes. In early July, Dolomiti handed over the keys for 17 of them, each one fitted with a GPS transmitter.

The participants get effort-free cycling for up to three months, before the two-wheelers are passed onto the next team of rider-volunteers.

Professor Geoff Rose, from Monash University’s Institute of Transport Studies, says the study is the largest field trial of its kind. His research team is helping Dolomiti analyse the results. “We’re going to get extraordinarily rich data about where people use the bikes, what length trips they take and the roads they use,” he explains.

(The Monash researchers are also looking for e-bike owners to participate in an online survey)

Battery-powered bikes are fast becoming popular elsewhere, especially in Europe and the USA, and above all, in China, where nine out of every ten are sold, and where many cities have banned petrol-powered two-wheelers.

But they’ve been slow to gain momentum here. Until recently, Australia had the strictest regulations in the world. In May, the federal government relaxed the power output rules to match standards in European Union.

Illustration by Robin Cowcher

Most e-bikes look just like a normal pushbike, except they’ve got a battery pack connected to a small motor that generates the extra zip. They can reach speeds of 25 kilometres per hour with power; to go faster, the cyclists have to pedal. On a single charge, the newer models can cover up to 70 kilometres.

“From a rider’s point of view, it’s like you’re on a normal bike,” Professor Rose says, “but, somehow, every time you ride you’ve got a tail wind.”

For that reason, his research shows that electric bikes appeal to many folks who’d otherwise drive or catch public transport: older people and people with medical worries such as heart conditions or rickety knees and hips, as well as commuters who are put off by the distance or the effort of pedalling a conventional bike.

“For some people, it’s a technology that allows them to get back on a bike. And the evidence so far also shows that they really appeal to women riders – the gender balance is a lot more even than with conventional bikes,” he says.

Because many e-bike riders are switching away from cars, Professor Rose says they’re likely to be a plus for the individuals’ health and their environmental footprint.

“If you have an electric bike and purchase green power or install a solar power charging unit at home, then you’re really operating with a sustainable urban transport mode,” he says.

But while the technology is good, it can only be as effective as our cycling infrastructure allows, he cautions. Without safe places to ride, people won’t ditch their car keys.

If you’re keen on an e-bike, you can either buy a purpose-built model (they cost from under $1000 to over $3000), or a conversion kit for your existing bicycle (from under $1000). As with any equipment, it’s wise to do your research before you buy, and make sure you choose business you trust. It’ll help with maintenance, or with purchasing spare parts when things go wrong. 

Read this article at The Age online

Have you ridden an e-bike? Got any thoughts about the experience? I’m interested in the idea that they get people on the bike who’d otherwise drive or take public transport. If so, that’s a big tick. I’m a pushbike rider, and I don’t commute very far, so I don’t have any need for one. But it seems possible that e-bikes could broaden the appeal of riding, with environmental and health benefits to boot.  

It’s hard for extensions to buck the consumption trend.

RENOVATING is stressful. Typically, you’ve got to make a boxful of decisions you’ve never made before and hand over fistfuls of cash you don’t really have.

And if you want to reduce your environmental footprint while you’re at it, the process becomes even more complex.

With that in mind, how many “green renovations” end up very green?

In a recent study, Cecily Maller and her colleagues at RMIT’s Centre for Design interviewed people who considered their renovation to be green, and toured their homes.

The participants had one thing in common: by and large, their houses got bigger. Usually, the renovators chose to expand living areas and kitchens, revamp existing bathrooms and add new bathrooms. Some added a second floor.

“People were deeply concerned about the environment and really wanted to improve their house’s performance, but at the same time, they weren’t always cognisant of the fact they were expanding the size of their home,” she says.

Illustration by Robin Cowcher

The researchers don’t have stats to compare water and energy use before and after the renovations, but Dr Maller says popular design features, such as open plan and indoor-outdoor living areas, can make it hard to consume less. Larger spaces usually require more heating than smaller ones, even if the heating is efficient. More bathrooms can mean more showers, or longer ones.

Dr Maller, who leads the Place and Health research area, says the renovators were well informed and genuinely dedicated to efficiency and sustainability. One couple went to great lengths to salvage all the timber for their wood-panelled walls.

But on deeper questioning, the researchers discovered other reasons too. People wanted to make their home brighter, more comfortable, and larger, to accommodate growing families.

Overall, retrofitted homes are subject to escalating patterns of consumption reflected in society at large – such as expectations of greater convenience and privacy, extra space for more appliances and possessions, and a narrow indoor temperature range all year round.

In new housing estates, in particular, Dr Maller says, bathrooms and kitchens are multiplying. “There’s often a second kitchen outside that replicates many of the same appliances and even has heating.”

Those trends are hard to resist, especially when people worry about resale value. “One thing we noticed is that people really love that intersection between indoors and outdoors. There’s a point where fashion often wins out over sustainability,” she says.

She says that the narrative around green housing must emphasise restraint and thriftiness, rather than bigger and brighter technological solutions alone. It must also incorporate the notion of resource stewardship and recognise households as producers as well as consumers.

“We need to look beyond technology, to other things that people do in their home to save resources, such as sharing and swapping things with neighbours rather than everybody buying their own. Quite often people do it without thinking, like passing on children’s clothes.”

Dr Maller said that the most successful green renovations could include features designed to “buck the trend”. In her study, one of the interviewees chose not to install a bath in her redesigned, smaller, bathroom.

“Despite cajoling from friends, who even invited her over to have a bath at their place, she designed it out of her house, because she was adamant that water was such a precious commodity,” she says.

Read this article at The Age online

Are extensions always about more? Is it possible to renovate your home in a way that helps you consume less – or is ‘retrofitting’ a better word for doing that?

Despite the absence of hard numbers, I’m persuaded by the academics’ findings. If you’ve renovated, what were the results: more stuff, or less? Big debt, or simplicity?

Dr Maller focuses on the consumptive impact of our social practices – including patterns of cleaning, washing and convenience. I’d particularly like to hear about any examples of renovations or design features that re-shaped those practices. 

Airing your dirty laundry is best for everyone.

FOR over 150 years after British colonisation, Mondays in Australian households were reserved for one particular chore. The day after the Christian Sabbath was, according to historian Graeme Davison, “almost universally observed as washing day”.

Professor Davison researched our laundering rituals (among other things) for his chapter in the 2008 book, Troubled Waters: Confronting the water crisis in Australian cities.

“In the mid-nineteenth century, the wash for a large family could occupy the washerwoman from early morning till well into the evening,” he wrote. “The laundry for an average family could require, in washing, boiling and rinsing, as much as 50 gallons [227 litres] of water.

“Most people, however, owned many fewer changes of clothes than we do, and changed them less frequently… Men wore business shirts several times, changing the detachable collars each day, before washing the shirt itself at the end of the week.”

By the end of World War II only two out of every hundred Melbourne households owned a washing machine. But that changed fast, Professor Davison said: by the late ’70s, it was nine out of ten.

Illustration by Robin Cowcher

These days, clothes washing accounts for about 15 per cent of household water use – about the same proportion as a century ago, even though water consumption, per capita, has more than doubled since then.

What we do in the laundry is usually hidden from public view. For her Masters thesis at University of Melbourne, sustainable fashion researcher Tullia Jack set about getting people talking.

She got thirty people (including herself) to wear a pair of jeans at least five days a week for three months, without washing them. The results, she says, were unremarkable: stains disappeared, there were no nasty odours, and no one noticed.

Earlier this year, in an exhibition called Nobody Was Dirty, the worn jeans were pinned to the walls at the National Gallery of Victoria for all to see, and smell.

One of Ms Jack’s motivations was evidence about the impacts of clothing, from production all the way to disposal. “When you look at all the different stages in the life cycle of a garment, the use phase – washing and drying – has the biggest environmental impact,” she says. “And the way we wash our clothes isn’t based on a scientific imperative – it’s more of a social construct.”

Early in her research, she came across an experiment conducted by Canadian student Josh Le, who wore the same pair of jeans for 15 months without washing them. The bacteria count two weeks after laundering was the same as at the end of the 15-month stretch.

The people who took part in Ms Jack’s study reported that they’d wash their clothes less often than they had beforehand – they felt freer to make up their own mind about whether or not the clothes needed it.

As a guide to reducing laundry, Ms Jack has devised a clothes-cleaning hierarchy. Once you take a garment off, hang it in a well-ventilated place. You can try freshening clothes by leaving them in the steamy bathroom while you shower, or hanging them outside in the sunshine.

Next, she suggests spot cleaning with moist cloth to remove visible dirt; then hand washing in cold water using biodegradable detergent. Last, and least, once you’ve got a full load ready, wash in cold water and dry on the line. 

Read this article at The Age online

Learn to repair old wares at new workshops.

LAST year, April Seymore and her friends got talking about the state of the world. They dissected our disconnection with the way things work, criticised consumer products built to break, and bemoaned the all the stuff that’s needlessly, thoughtlessly tossed into landfill.

And they decided to do something about it. They started Fix It, an open network of events where people gather to repair everyday household objects.

Ms Seymore says most goods “magically work for us”, until all of a sudden, they don’t.

“When they break we’re a bit confounded by it,” she says. “Often that means they get dusty in the garage, or go into the bin, or to an opshop, which also might not have the capacity to repair them. It costs charities a lot of money to put all that stuff into landfill.”

Illustration by Robin Cowcher

The idea behind Fix It is that anyone and everyone can hold their own event – you just have to invite some friends and their broken knick-knacks, and nut it out together.

“Fixing gives you great insight into how things work,” Ms Seymore says. “So we think it’s fun, but it also makes you smarter. It can save you money too, because you can extend the life of household objects.”

She says many attendees are surprised by their mending capacities – and by how much they can teach others. “People take things for granted. They’ll say, ‘I have no skills, but, oh yes, I can patch a fly-screen,’ or ‘I’ve only salvaged a couple of lamps’.”

Tinkering has hit the Zeitgeist, she says. In the Netherlands, Repair Cafes are running in dozens of locations. In London, the Restart Project is agitating for repair in the information technology industry, while in New York, the Fixers’ Collective meets once a month.

Closer to home, Melbournians can learn to mend and refashion their outdated and busted jewellery at ‘The Treasury’, the monthly workshops run by jeweller and artist Emma Grace (next one is August 25).

In Sydney, members of the Bower Reuse and Repair Centre in Marrackville mend, reinvent and re-sell pre-loved goods. The co-operative also holds public workshops on skills such as upholstery and bike mechanics.

If you want to see Fix It in action, there’ll be a stall at the Gasworks Art Park farmers’ market, in South Melbourne, on the third Saturday of each month from August to November. There’s also one coming up in Preston in late August (see the Fix It Facebook site for details).

“There’s a real movement now,” Ms Seymore says. “People are interested in reducing waste, learning how things work and being more self-sufficient.”

Her mother is a carpenter and a seamstress, among other practical things. And, so, as long as she can remember, the younger Ms Seymore has been repairing and inventing things with timber and textiles too.

Even so, she always learns something new from other people. “I’m a fixer, but I’m an aspiring fixer as well. I’m always adding more tools to my Swiss Army knife, so to speak.

“It appeals to our childhood sense of wonder – taking things apart and seeing whether you can stick them back together in the same way, or in a more exciting way. I think there’s a lot of good stuff that can come out of it, for our brains and our bodies, and for our community.”

Read this article at the Age online