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From May to July 2025, viola da gambist Sarah Small embarked on a unique concert tour.
Small travelled across the British Isles by bicycle and ferry from venue to venue, reducing the carbon footprint of the tour to almost zero. She took her programme, entitled Good Again?, to 31 locations in the UK, using her performances to reflect on themes of grief, contemplation and hope, while also raising awareness of the environmental impact musicians typically have on tour.
Now that tour has finished, she shares with The Strad her thoughts on the journey.
For ten weeks, I toured in a way that was in line with my values: cycling for transportation, fuelling myself with plants, using strings made from natural and animal-free materials, and playing music that communicated the sentiments felt by many of us in response to the climate crisis.
Among many aims, I wanted to highlight the value in performing in the in-between places, raising awareness of the environmental impact of conventional touring in order to inspire slower and greener travel and demonstrate how we can use our role as musicians as a force for good.
In early May, I set off from Northamptonshire, heading eastwards to play in Cambridge, Aldeburgh and Overstrand, with further stops at RSBP (Royal Society for the Protection of Birds) reserves and Time and Tide Bells as I continued northwards up the Lincolnshire coast, into strong headwinds, towards Yorkshire.
During those days of endless dusty farmland, England experienced its driest Spring in over 100 years. The unpredictable weather patterns was something I drew attention to in performances, with pieces influenced by the elements experienced on tour. I heard from locals about the impact the changing climate is having in their areas, and learnt about community initiatives happening all over the UK to build resilience.
There were many occasions for spotting wildlife, including puffins and seals at Flamborough Head before that day’s recital. If only all concerts could be combined with time in nature, I thought. From this point on, I scrapped my meticulously planned route and tweaked things daily, depending on energy levels, weather, and the availability of campsites, hosts and wild camping spots ahead.
After detouring inland over refreshingly hilly roads, and meeting several inspiring people on their own journeys (this happens frequently when travelling by bike), I headed to Durham to join Kim Porter, and premiered her piece Nothing Gold Can Stay for viol and voice, which I commissioned especially for this occasion.
Via a performance on Lindisfarne, I reached Edinburgh, to play at the Pianodrome alongside local lutenist Eric Thomas. Almost every audience member had cycled to the venue, and the sheer number of bicycles parked outside was a magnificent sight to behold! The high from that event kept me going through the midges and rain to Oban’s performance, hopping across to play on the island of Kerrera before taking the ferry to the Outer Hebrides.
Staying upright on a 50kg loaded bike and viol that, with a rain cover, acted like a sail, was challenging. Most sailings were cancelled due to the high winds, but somehow I made it to the performances all the way up the islands.
Despite the remoteness, the strong sense of community could be felt everywhere. I experienced so much kindness from strangers wherever I went. Many nights I was hosted by fellow cycle tourers, but also locals who just offered a bed over wild camping in rather rough conditions. I learnt so much about the people and places along the route this way and have made some friends for life.
It also gave me a lot of hope; talking with others who are equally concerned about the state of the climate, acknowledging that it is caused by human activity, and needs prioritising for action. When we don’t talk about what is happening, it’s easy to lose hope and think nobody else cares. This is why it’s crucial to keep it in the conversation.
On the way to the final performance on the Hebrides, I diverted off course to camp by Bosta Beach and see that Time and Tide Bell. I visited several on the way round, including Mablethorpe, Morecambe and Aberdyfi. Why? They provoke thought about our relationship with the land and the sea, highlighting the power of art to inspire action. Coastal erosion is a serious problem that, like many things, we don’t notice if we’re not directly affected by it. These bells draw attention to what’s happening on our coastlines as the climate continues to change. Bells are used to warn us and we need to pay attention.
After playing in Stornoway, performances back on the mainland included Durness and an impromptu stop to play in Smoo Cave on the way to Orkney and Shetland, aiming for Unst. After plenty of soggy cycling, I reached Hermaness, the northernmost point on the British Isles, watched seabirds swirl around in between hailstorms, and joined local harpist Sunita Staneslow to perform in a packed Viking longhouse. One of the wonderful things about playing in locations such as this and touring this way, is that it draws in audiences who have never seen a viol before. To be the person sharing it’s unique sound with them for the first time feels like a privilege.
The one audience who unfortunately didn’t hear the viol was in Aberdeen. A thick fog set in and prevented the ferry from docking for eight hours. Since I’d mentally prepared to give a performance, I played for passengers onboard instead. When we eventually reached land, friends were patiently waiting to cycle and camp together, weathering a storm that left a layer of sand on everything and prompted some overdue bike TLC.
I should mention the importance of venues that are hubs of creativity, encouraging sustainable living practices and community resilience, such as the Hanging Gardens in Llanidloes. By documenting the tour, I’ve tried to highlight these places and encourage more musicians to include them in tours. Venues shouldn’t be overlooked because they don’t have a prestigious title or happen to be in a major city. These are the most valuable places to play.
We complicate our lives with material possessions. It’s possible (and liberating) to live and work as a musician with everything fitting onboard a bicycle.
Cycling and playing music are very similar; each requiring full presence. I’ve also found the experiences on two wheels, connecting with people and places, keeping the climate crisis at the forefront of my mind, gives greater meaning to what I’m trying to communicate through the music.
Sharing music is inherently carbon neutral, yet it continues to be the norm for performers to reach audiences (and vice versa) in ways that are damaging. We’re all aware of the ability live music has to connect and inspire, and travel plays a part in that. We just need to do it differently.
Sharing music is inherently carbon neutral, yet it continues to be the norm for performers to reach audiences (and vice versa) in ways that are damaging
Using a simple comparison, over the 4500km distance pedalled on tour (ie. not including ferries):
Cyclist emits 94kg CO2 (mostly food, significantly lower impact if plant-based)
Car passenger emits 1,220kg CO2
Bus passenger emits 455kg CO2
You can see how even the use of public transport overland reduces our impact enormously.
When we look at flying, if I’d have flown to the Outer Hebrides and to Shetland from the nearest respective airports, my impact from those journeys as a passenger would have been 1,125kg CO2, which must be tripled to 3,375kg to account for the total heating effect of aviation. We can’t overlook this. Budgets for tours need to be set for the cost of our environmental impact and not just the short term finances.
Over the ten weeks, I pedalled at least 4500km and gave 31 performances, carrying my viola da gamba, tent, and everything else needed to be self-sufficient on the road. I hope to keep inspiring change and have continued to cycle with my viol to performances within the UK, am currently cycling towards France, and am planning tours overseas for next year.
Keep updated via Sarah Small’s website: sarahsmallviol.crd.co and on Instagram: @smallsarah
All photos courtesy Sarah Small.