This blog is an approximate transcript of its original audio form with added content on the Ravens Outdoor Podcast. Listen here. Please subscribe while you're there.
Here goes. In my best attempt not to be partisan or sycophantic...
The end of TweedLove is more than just the cancellation of a bike festival; it’s a bit of a gut punch to the very heart of The Tweed Valley and wider MTB community. Over the years, this event has grown into something so much bigger than just a few days of cycling. It’s become a fixture in our calendar, a chance for everyone to come together. Whether you’re a die-hard racer, weekend warrior or just someone who loves a good time with like minded people.
For those of us with a personal and business connection to TweedLove, it’s hard to overstate just how big a blow this is. For local businesses and MTB at large, TweedLove is like having all the pomp and ceremony of our own wee MTB Olympics.
The festival has consistently brought thousands of people into Peebles and the surrounding area. Every single one of them needs a place to stay, food to eat, and something to do when they’re not on their bikes. And we know that’s not just pocket change, we have the receipts. We’re talking about millions pouring into the local economy over the years, keeping our hotels booked, our cafes buzzing, and our shops bustling with activity when the events are running.
For many small businesses here, TweedLove has been a seasonal lifeline. It’s a collection of occasions where everyone wins as there's so much pie to go around. Everyone wins.
Speaking of race weekends, here's the list of events from the last year that wont be hapenning again. The Tweedlove festival, Love Cross, Valleluja, King and Queen, International Enduro, British Enduro Round, Electric Weekend, Enjoyro, Enjoyro Evo, Gritopia, Tweedlove Family Day and Glentress 7. Grieving yet? I've probably missed a few too.
Beyond just the pounds and pence, TweedLove has given us something that money can’t buy: a sense of community and shared purpose. It’s one of those pecious events that’s genuinely for everyone. From the seasoned pro racers to families with toddlers wobbling along on balance bikes, everyone found a place there. And it’s not just the events themselves, but the atmosphere, the energy, the way the whole town feels alive and connected. For those of us who’ve been involved with it, it’s honestly like losing a member of the family.
And speaking of family, let’s not forget the actual people behind TweedLove. Neil and the team have poured their hearts into this thing. You can’t fake that kind of passion. They’ve managed to turn the Tweed Valley into a genuine hotspot for biking, earning it a place on the global mountain biking map.
Let's be clear and filter some of my hyperbole. They are not and have not been the only contributors to this culture, but they are without doubt, the most passionate and consistant.
The ripple effect of losing TweedLove will be felt far and wide. Think of all the businesses that have relied on it for exposure. I’ve seen it myself and I run one. Small local vendors, local bike shops, accommodation providers and cafes getting a chance to shine in front of thousands of visitors. TweedLove was a showcase for the best of what th The Tweed Valley has to offer. Without it, where do these businesses go to find new customers in context? Sure, it's not the end of the world, but rebuilding all of the above will take time. That also assumes that anyone wants the job of doing it?
I think losing Tweedlove feels like losing a part of who we are as a destination and a culture.
it’s not just the businesses that will feel the loss. The TweedLove events brought in tourists from all over, and those tourists did more than just ride bikes. They explored the town, they spent their money, and some of them fell in love with the place and came back again and again. Now, without the festival, we risk (at least in the short term) losing that vital reliable wave of visitors who help sustain our local economy, especially outside of the peak season.
TweedLove has been a massive part of our collective identity here. It’s become a symbol of what makes this place special. Our love for the outdoors, our community spirit, our willingness to get out there and do something different. I think losing Tweedlove feels like losing a part of who we are as a destination and a culture.
For those of us who have volunteered, organised, contributed or just cheered from the sidelines, TweedLove has been more than an event; it’s been a mission, a statement, a way of life. It brought people together in a way that few other things could. It’s a blow to our identity, our businesses, and our future. We’ve seen first hand how the festival has put us on the map, bringing in media coverage and visitors who might never have found us otherwise.
So, yeah, you could say this is a big deal. Losing TweedLove isn’t just the end of a festival; it’s the end of an era for all of us who call this place home. It’s a moment to take stock, to think about what we can do next, and how we can keep that spirit alive, even without the festival to rally around.
Based on Neil's blog, it seems like there’s plenty of speculation to go around for the festival’s closure. Rising costs have played a big role — everything from insurance to event infrastructure has gotten pricier, making it harder to stay afloat. There’s also been a noticeable drop in sponsorship. Companies aren’t shelling out like they used to, which leaves a big hole in the budget that’s tough to fill with ticket sales alone.
But the kicker seems to be a lack of support from the powers that be. There’s a broad feeling from those in the know that local councils and public bodies haven’t stepped up in the way they could have. For an event that’s brought so much to the area, it’s frustrating to see how quickly financial pressures and lukewarm backing can spell the end.
The abivilance of these and other organisations that should be more accountable also plays a role in how events like these are percieved and valued. The self appointed "official voices of Scottish mountain biking" seem only interested in helping with projects that either tick the boxes for a project well delivered or that serves a narrative to justify thier actions. This is all admirable, and these projects are incredibly important, but rarely relatable by the vast majority of stakeholders involved in keeping our sport alive at a commercial, recreational and enthusiast level. They never, ever communicate or are held up for public scrutiny.
If you don't answer your public criticism, the public will continue to criticise you.
Now, we see the price of integrity and holding true to your community values.
This has to change, we need transparency when the culture and resource that riders, businesses and stakeholders spent years building is monopolised, monetised then ultimately maximised for the benefit of a few then left to lick it's wounds and recover the best it can.
So, yeah, you could point fingers in several directions — from the economic realities of putting on a big event to the missed opportunities by those who could have done more to keep this community jewel alive. So many promises from so many other avenues have come and gone never being realised. Yet Tweedlove remained. Now, we see the price of integrity and holding true to your community values.
But let’s also not forget what Tweedlove achieved here. Now can we take the energy, the passion, and the community that TweedLove fostered and find new ways to keep moving forward. Because if there’s one thing Neil and the team has shown us, it’s that when we come together, we can make something truly special happen. And that’s probably worth working together and fighting for.
Losing TweedLove may feel like a hard knock, but it’s not the end of the road for us or them I suspect. It’s just another feature on the trail. And anyone who’s ever ridden a bike knows that the best trails are never the easiest ones. Sometimes you prosper, sometimes you fail, but you're always adding value and learning.
Hopefully we'll see some stand alone Tweedlove events in the future.
Neil, Fiona and the family. Amber, Sarah, Jamie, all the past and present Tweed-lovvies and The Valley Crew. We owe you so much.
Nothin' but love for ya...
Allan
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