At 22, Sheffield’s James Hartley is learning fast in France with Team Bricquebec Cotentin - a Rayner Foundation-backed stage winner at the Tour de la Manche, now turning early-season momentum into a simple, uncompromising mission: win, and progress.
James Hartley has always sounded like a rider in a hurry – not just on the bike, but in the way he throws himself at experience. Now 22, the Sheffield-born all-rounder came into cycling around early 2020, initially as a way to stay fit without the injury risk of running, then as something far more absorbing: a craft worth committing to.
Three seasons with Cycling Sheffield sharpened the raw edges – the habits, the accountability, the sense of what it means to be useful in a race – before he made the jump that so many ambitious British under-23s now make. In 2025, Hartley joined Team Bricquebec Cotentin and based himself in Normandy, just south of Cherbourg, in an environment that can feel oddly pro for an amateur scene: the vehicles, the service course culture, the sense that racing matters because people show up to watch it.
The move paid back in the cleanest way possible: results. At the 2025 Tour de la Manche, Hartley won twice – taking the opening stage and, later in the week, adding another stage victory to complete a rare double on a race that matters in that part of the world. There’s substance beyond the headline wins, too: a 17th at the Grand Prix de la Somme and 21st at Paris–Tours Espoirs point to a rider capable of holding his own when the names thicken and the road turns properly serious.
This season, there are already signs of momentum rolling into 2026. In the Circuit des Plages Vendéennes – a windswept early-season proving ground where French teams start sharpening their knives – Hartley has been in the thick of it, placing 15th on episode 4 and 10th on episode 6 (23 February 2026).
Supported again by the Rayner Foundation, Hartley remains with Bricquebec Cotentin for 2026, now with a year of French life in his legs: the language work, the logistics, the daily pressure to be present, useful, and ready when the race finally asks you to deliver.
In this Q&A, he reflects on the personality behind the results — the extrovert, the adventurer, the lover of machines – and on the deeper shift from talented lad in a strong UK set-up to a rider learning how to make the French amateur system work for him. Asked about ambition, he boils it down with the bluntness of someone who knows what the job is: “win, and progress.”
Image: Timothée Lecaplain
For readers who might not know you yet – how would you describe yourself away from racing and results? What kind of person are you, what are you into, how do you spend your time?
I’m fairly extroverted – I’m passionate and outgoing. My dad says I’m spirited. My friends and family would say I could talk with anyone, anywhere, about anything.
Obviously, I’m very much into cycling, even away from racing and results… but I like adventures too: being outside, and going places that make me feel small – either with my mates or solo.
I like planes and cars. All aircraft fascinate me, but the best one is obviously the SR-71 Blackbird. Best-looking car? Either a ’65 Alfa Romeo Giulia, or a ’77 V8 Vantage.
I also like reading thrillers – a good “page-turner”, as they say. I like deep conversations and pushing myself physically: finding the limits within myself, physically and psychologically – which inevitably comes out on the bike and in races.
How did you first get into cycling, and what made you want to take it seriously rather than treat it as a hobby?
I’m still finding the line between a hobby and something you take seriously – cycling is both to me. But of course, a fairly serious hobby… hahaha. There’s obviously a balance, as with most things in life.
I’m still finding the line between a hobby and something you take seriously – cycling is both to me
It was around – or just before – Covid, so early 2020, I think. I used to run a lot. I raced track and cross-country at school, but I found cycling as a way to keep fit without worrying about injuries from running. I did it a lot more during lockdown and it really scratched the itch I had to be outside – with the added bonus of getting fit.
Once restrictions eased, I started racing – and racing well too. Realising the work Dave puts into the team made me want to take it more seriously, and that lit a fire in me: to really know how far I could go with this. I think it would be a waste not to find out, given the drive I have.
Image: Emma Wilcock
You spent three seasons developing with Cycling Sheffield before heading abroad. How important was that period in shaping you as a rider?
Cycling Sheffield was heavily influential in the rider I am today. My seasons there shaped me not only physically, but professionally too. Proper “you don’t know what you don’t know” years.
The bad, half-arsed “am I actually good at this?” attitude I had towards cycling initially wouldn’t have been sustainable. The team helped flip that
The bad, half-arsed “am I actually good at this?” attitude I had towards cycling initially wouldn’t have been sustainable. The team helped flip that. I felt valued, became accountable, and learned how to be a more efficient bike rider – on and off the bike – where energy can be saved. That then becomes subconscious, and it only added fuel to my desire to find my place in this sport.
What did those years racing in the UK teach you that still matters now?
Pwah – well, we all know racing in the UK is a different beast compared to racing on the continent, which makes what I learned in the UK hard to implement in France.
Knowing when to do things in bike races is the big one – and being calm when you miss the opportunity to do something you should’ve done about 15k ago is important.
Knowing the basics: being positioned well for key moments, eating, drinking, and communicating with teammates = those things apply everywhere.
Not being a spaniel until it’s time to let the lead go is still a work in progress, but it fundamentally changed how I approach races now and built even more grit within me.
Was there a moment when cycling shifted from something you enjoyed into something you felt could become a career?
I still really enjoy cycling – there’s been no shift there! But yes, living in France has shifted my perspective slightly towards something that could be the start of a career.
Seeing what it’s like here – and the life I have – planted a seed that made me think: I want to be able to do this sustainably. That shifted my mindset because I’ve made a conscious decision to want to be able to do this for… as long as I’m enjoying it, I guess?
But life’s not that simple. I want to be able to live healthily. I still want to enjoy riding my bike and see where it takes me – but I’m obviously here to race and actually show up, mate.
Image: Amelco Gohin
You made your first move abroad in 2025. Why did that feel like the right time – and what were your expectations going into it?
2025 felt like the right time because I had the opportunity to – after my best season in the UK in 2024. If I’d had the opportunity to go to France for the 2024 season, I would have gone, but I’d have arrived a lot less refined as a bike rider, I think.
2024 made me aware that I’m good at racing, so a new environment with a better, more respected calendar felt like the right place to be to excel further.
I certainly had expectations about attitudes towards food – I think the French scene can be quite bad for that but thankfully my team have a normal approach. Although the ‘Abrahamsen’ method – “mass is gas” – hasn’t quite taken off here.
Performance-wise, I didn’t have many expectations. Mainly, I expected to learn, and anything on top of that was a bonus
Performance-wise, I didn’t have many expectations. Mainly, I expected to learn, and anything on top of that was a bonus – which obviously happened too. I’ve got higher expectations of myself this year, of course.
What was the biggest adjustment in stepping into the French amateur scene for the first time?
It’s the language. The bike-racing part was less of an adjustment than having to grasp French.
There’s that slight feeling of being lost in a conversation – not being able to communicate fully with the riders. I’m quite fortunate that the level of English among the team staff is good, but it’s still daunting trying to comprehend an important pre-race briefing.
It’s something I take in my stride, though, and it didn’t affect me detrimentally at any moment last season.
Tell us about where you are based and what your team set-up is like.
Just south of Cherbourg in Normandy – it’s pretty hard to be directly north of Cherbourg anywhere in Normandy, haha.
The team set-up, for an amateur sports team, is actually quite mental. In the same way you see team buses and cars for pro teams, the high-level DN1 teams have the same: a service course and garage for the team vans and cars and bikes and wheels.
The team also do a lot in the local community, teaching Bikeability lessons, so a lot of bikes and equipment are stored here for that.
The house is one of the better set-ups in France – a refurbished barn, I think. It’s probably a house most average-sized families would be happy living in, which I guess is what we are, in a way.
Image: Guillaume Royer
Last season you won two stages at the Tour de la Manche. What did that mean to you at the time and what did it tell you about yourself as a rider?
Yeah! That race was absolutely mint.
One of the best parcours for me – that stage 1 was fast and punchy towards the end, with bergs where you’ve got to grit your teeth and big-ring over, followed by a technical finish.
Stage 5 was similar, with added pressure to deliver after losing the yellow jersey in the time trial – but, in my defence, the only time I’d spent on my TT bike prior was checking if the gears worked on the morning of the TT.
It told me I can be competitive and deliver in France, and it confirmed that my technical ability and punch are strengths I have
It means a lot. And the stage 5 win in Granville was so important to the team given its location. Antoine, my DS, said before the stage: “We opened the book on stage 1 and today we will close it.” Couldn’t have asked for more really, could I?
It told me I can be competitive and deliver in France, and it confirmed that my technical ability and punch are strengths I have – and intend to exploit further.
What are the biggest differences between the amateur scene in France compared to your experience of the domestic scene?
Races have a lot more respect. The entire culture of cycling is night and day different.
People actually watch these races because they like the sport and want to support it. There’s more of everything – more races, more money, more riders – there’s just more passion.
Racing abroad doesn’t work for everyone. Did you ever question the move and what helped you settle into life in France?
Questioning what I’m doing usually comes in the past tense, where it’s: “What have I done?”
Point being: I didn’t question coming to France. It felt largely natural.
Having lads I knew – Crooky, Fat Lord [Matthew Lord] and Whiterice – helped me settle in, with Jack [Crook] and Josh [Whitehead] both having raced in France the season before. I felt lucky in that regard, and it’s not something all teams in France accommodate. We were aptly named “Britquebec” by some other teams, which I thought was quite funny.
Image: Andy Jones
How important has support outside the team environment been, particularly in your first year abroad?
External support has been immensely valuable – and I’m hugely grateful for it, which only motivates me further to see how far I can take this.
My family are so great, man – they always want to know what race I’m doing and whether they can follow it somehow.
My cycling mates I used to ride with – “used to”, because some of them do less superior exploits such as running, and more superior work like aiding the YBC – are always good to have for morale, as well as all my mates, of course.
There’s the Rayner Foundation too, economically – they’re great. And Dave, as much as you might think he’s done his job, is always there to pick up the phone for any queries I have about navigating situations I find myself in.
Your brother Jack also raced in France last year but chose to return to the UK. Was it difficult seeing him return? Did seeing his experience shape how you approached your own time abroad?
The little bro moving back wasn’t difficult to see – it was a relief, because it meant I wouldn’t have to lose to him!
No – part of it was sad. But Jack going through that is also a good thing, because even if it might not have been the correct decision, he learned a lot about himself… every cloud.
His experience abroad was different to mine, so it made me appreciate what I had with my team even more
His experience abroad was different to mine, so it made me appreciate what I had with my team even more. It made me think about my move here too, but me and bro are cognitively quite different.
Looking at what I expected versus what Jack expected didn’t really change how much I wanted to be here – like it did for him. And it’s not like he doesn’t ride anymore: he’s got a competitive season ahead of him too.
We still get opportunities to ride together when I’m home, which is great fun… in all weathers. Having Jack at home has also been really helpful logistically – he’s very reliable, and his help can’t be undervalued.
Hartley is interviewd by Hannah Walker. Image: Allan McKenzie/SWpix.com
How would you describe yourself as a rider now, and how has that evolved since your early under-23 seasons?
I am thoroughly average at most things. My teammates say, “James is always here.”
I’m competitive on any parcours that’s not ridiculously mountainous – and even then, I’ll still fight for the win, or help someone do so.
That said, if the race comes down to a bunch gallop, or a small group on a slight rise, that’s the most ideal for me to be able to win.
I’ve gained strength on the bike in general since being under-23 – and I’m still only 22, so there’s more strength to come yet. I can pull the skin off a rice pudding now!
What kinds of races suit you best, and where do you feel you can express your strengths most clearly?
I literally love all races – but it depends if I have a job to do.
If my job is to win, then longer and harder races that end with punchy parcours and technical finishes are most likely to suit me.
If I’ve got other things to do – like positioning my guys – then I could do that too. Might not finish the race, but I know I could do my job properly before that.
A fighting race where the lion comes out to play is where I know I can perform
My strengths lie in being fast, so being in a lead-out train or the leader on a fast day is good. But a climb or two or three or seven wouldn’t go amiss. When the race is naturally selective and just gradually harder, that’s something I can really get my teeth stuck into.
A fighting race where the lion comes out to play is where I know I can perform.
When results don’t come, or things don’t go to plan, how do you reset and keep perspective?
Probably go for a big bike ride – even better if it’s with the boys. They’re the best. That’s harder when I’m in France, of course, but still.
Or just going for a walk and having a coffee. Ring my sister Jaz – that helps. Mostly normal stuff, to be honest.
Having the bike as one main coping mechanism can be good and bad. Sometimes it’s great to get away and just go for a ride. Other times, if you’re fed up of the bike itself, it’s harder to find the spark – but the enjoyment and perspective always come back quickly.
I always speak with a good friend of mine from school too, actually, whose mind ticks in the same way mine does. That’s usually good for perspective – it helps make sense of my thoughts. It’s good when we’re talking and morale comes back and the dog in me starts barking again!
Looking ahead, what are your ambitions for 2026 and beyond?
James Hartley has always sounded like a rider in a hurry – not just on the bike, but in the way he throws himself at experience. Now 22, the Sheffield-born all-rounder came into cycling around early 2020, initially as a way to stay fit without the injury risk of running, then as something far more absorbing: a craft worth committing to.
Three seasons with Cycling Sheffield sharpened the raw edges – the habits, the accountability, the sense of what it means to be useful in a race – before he made the jump that so many ambitious British under-23s now make. In 2025, Hartley joined Team Bricquebec Cotentin and based himself in Normandy, just south of Cherbourg, in an environment that can feel oddly pro for an amateur scene: the vehicles, the service course culture, the sense that racing matters because people show up to watch it.
The move paid back in the cleanest way possible: results. At the 2025 Tour de la Manche, Hartley won twice – taking the opening stage and, later in the week, adding another stage victory to complete a rare double on a race that matters in that part of the world. There’s substance beyond the headline wins, too: a 17th at the Grand Prix de la Somme and 21st at Paris–Tours Espoirs point to a rider capable of holding his own when the names thicken and the road turns properly serious.
This season, there are already signs of momentum rolling into 2026. In the Circuit des Plages Vendéennes – a windswept early-season proving ground where French teams start sharpening their knives – Hartley has been in the thick of it, placing 15th on episode 4 and 10th on episode 6 (23 February 2026).
Supported again by the Rayner Foundation, Hartley remains with Bricquebec Cotentin for 2026, now with a year of French life in his legs: the language work, the logistics, the daily pressure to be present, useful, and ready when the race finally asks you to deliver.
In this Q&A, he reflects on the personality behind the results — the extrovert, the adventurer, the lover of machines – and on the deeper shift from talented lad in a strong UK set-up to a rider learning how to make the French amateur system work for him. Asked about ambition, he boils it down with the bluntness of someone who knows what the job is: “win, and progress.”
For readers who might not know you yet – how would you describe yourself away from racing and results? What kind of person are you, what are you into, how do you spend your time?
I’m fairly extroverted – I’m passionate and outgoing. My dad says I’m spirited. My friends and family would say I could talk with anyone, anywhere, about anything.
Obviously, I’m very much into cycling, even away from racing and results… but I like adventures too: being outside, and going places that make me feel small – either with my mates or solo.
I like planes and cars. All aircraft fascinate me, but the best one is obviously the SR-71 Blackbird. Best-looking car? Either a ’65 Alfa Romeo Giulia, or a ’77 V8 Vantage.
I also like reading thrillers – a good “page-turner”, as they say. I like deep conversations and pushing myself physically: finding the limits within myself, physically and psychologically – which inevitably comes out on the bike and in races.
How did you first get into cycling, and what made you want to take it seriously rather than treat it as a hobby?
I’m still finding the line between a hobby and something you take seriously – cycling is both to me. But of course, a fairly serious hobby… hahaha. There’s obviously a balance, as with most things in life.
It was around – or just before – Covid, so early 2020, I think. I used to run a lot. I raced track and cross-country at school, but I found cycling as a way to keep fit without worrying about injuries from running. I did it a lot more during lockdown and it really scratched the itch I had to be outside – with the added bonus of getting fit.
Once restrictions eased, I started racing – and racing well too. Realising the work Dave puts into the team made me want to take it more seriously, and that lit a fire in me: to really know how far I could go with this. I think it would be a waste not to find out, given the drive I have.
You spent three seasons developing with Cycling Sheffield before heading abroad. How important was that period in shaping you as a rider?
Cycling Sheffield was heavily influential in the rider I am today. My seasons there shaped me not only physically, but professionally too. Proper “you don’t know what you don’t know” years.
The bad, half-arsed “am I actually good at this?” attitude I had towards cycling initially wouldn’t have been sustainable. The team helped flip that. I felt valued, became accountable, and learned how to be a more efficient bike rider – on and off the bike – where energy can be saved. That then becomes subconscious, and it only added fuel to my desire to find my place in this sport.
What did those years racing in the UK teach you that still matters now?
Pwah – well, we all know racing in the UK is a different beast compared to racing on the continent, which makes what I learned in the UK hard to implement in France.
Knowing when to do things in bike races is the big one – and being calm when you miss the opportunity to do something you should’ve done about 15k ago is important.
Knowing the basics: being positioned well for key moments, eating, drinking, and communicating with teammates = those things apply everywhere.
Not being a spaniel until it’s time to let the lead go is still a work in progress, but it fundamentally changed how I approach races now and built even more grit within me.
Was there a moment when cycling shifted from something you enjoyed into something you felt could become a career?
I still really enjoy cycling – there’s been no shift there! But yes, living in France has shifted my perspective slightly towards something that could be the start of a career.
Seeing what it’s like here – and the life I have – planted a seed that made me think: I want to be able to do this sustainably. That shifted my mindset because I’ve made a conscious decision to want to be able to do this for… as long as I’m enjoying it, I guess?
But life’s not that simple. I want to be able to live healthily. I still want to enjoy riding my bike and see where it takes me – but I’m obviously here to race and actually show up, mate.
You made your first move abroad in 2025. Why did that feel like the right time – and what were your expectations going into it?
2025 felt like the right time because I had the opportunity to – after my best season in the UK in 2024. If I’d had the opportunity to go to France for the 2024 season, I would have gone, but I’d have arrived a lot less refined as a bike rider, I think.
2024 made me aware that I’m good at racing, so a new environment with a better, more respected calendar felt like the right place to be to excel further.
I certainly had expectations about attitudes towards food – I think the French scene can be quite bad for that but thankfully my team have a normal approach. Although the ‘Abrahamsen’ method – “mass is gas” – hasn’t quite taken off here.
Performance-wise, I didn’t have many expectations. Mainly, I expected to learn, and anything on top of that was a bonus – which obviously happened too. I’ve got higher expectations of myself this year, of course.
What was the biggest adjustment in stepping into the French amateur scene for the first time?
It’s the language. The bike-racing part was less of an adjustment than having to grasp French.
There’s that slight feeling of being lost in a conversation – not being able to communicate fully with the riders. I’m quite fortunate that the level of English among the team staff is good, but it’s still daunting trying to comprehend an important pre-race briefing.
It’s something I take in my stride, though, and it didn’t affect me detrimentally at any moment last season.
Tell us about where you are based and what your team set-up is like.
Just south of Cherbourg in Normandy – it’s pretty hard to be directly north of Cherbourg anywhere in Normandy, haha.
The team set-up, for an amateur sports team, is actually quite mental. In the same way you see team buses and cars for pro teams, the high-level DN1 teams have the same: a service course and garage for the team vans and cars and bikes and wheels.
The team also do a lot in the local community, teaching Bikeability lessons, so a lot of bikes and equipment are stored here for that.
The house is one of the better set-ups in France – a refurbished barn, I think. It’s probably a house most average-sized families would be happy living in, which I guess is what we are, in a way.
Last season you won two stages at the Tour de la Manche. What did that mean to you at the time and what did it tell you about yourself as a rider?
Yeah! That race was absolutely mint.
One of the best parcours for me – that stage 1 was fast and punchy towards the end, with bergs where you’ve got to grit your teeth and big-ring over, followed by a technical finish.
Stage 5 was similar, with added pressure to deliver after losing the yellow jersey in the time trial – but, in my defence, the only time I’d spent on my TT bike prior was checking if the gears worked on the morning of the TT.
It means a lot. And the stage 5 win in Granville was so important to the team given its location. Antoine, my DS, said before the stage: “We opened the book on stage 1 and today we will close it.” Couldn’t have asked for more really, could I?
It told me I can be competitive and deliver in France, and it confirmed that my technical ability and punch are strengths I have – and intend to exploit further.
What are the biggest differences between the amateur scene in France compared to your experience of the domestic scene?
Races have a lot more respect. The entire culture of cycling is night and day different.
People actually watch these races because they like the sport and want to support it. There’s more of everything – more races, more money, more riders – there’s just more passion.
Racing abroad doesn’t work for everyone. Did you ever question the move and what helped you settle into life in France?
Questioning what I’m doing usually comes in the past tense, where it’s: “What have I done?”
Point being: I didn’t question coming to France. It felt largely natural.
Having lads I knew – Crooky, Fat Lord [Matthew Lord] and Whiterice – helped me settle in, with Jack [Crook] and Josh [Whitehead] both having raced in France the season before. I felt lucky in that regard, and it’s not something all teams in France accommodate. We were aptly named “Britquebec” by some other teams, which I thought was quite funny.
How important has support outside the team environment been, particularly in your first year abroad?
External support has been immensely valuable – and I’m hugely grateful for it, which only motivates me further to see how far I can take this.
My family are so great, man – they always want to know what race I’m doing and whether they can follow it somehow.
My cycling mates I used to ride with – “used to”, because some of them do less superior exploits such as running, and more superior work like aiding the YBC – are always good to have for morale, as well as all my mates, of course.
There’s the Rayner Foundation too, economically – they’re great. And Dave, as much as you might think he’s done his job, is always there to pick up the phone for any queries I have about navigating situations I find myself in.
Your brother Jack also raced in France last year but chose to return to the UK. Was it difficult seeing him return? Did seeing his experience shape how you approached your own time abroad?
The little bro moving back wasn’t difficult to see – it was a relief, because it meant I wouldn’t have to lose to him!
No – part of it was sad. But Jack going through that is also a good thing, because even if it might not have been the correct decision, he learned a lot about himself… every cloud.
His experience abroad was different to mine, so it made me appreciate what I had with my team even more. It made me think about my move here too, but me and bro are cognitively quite different.
Looking at what I expected versus what Jack expected didn’t really change how much I wanted to be here – like it did for him. And it’s not like he doesn’t ride anymore: he’s got a competitive season ahead of him too.
We still get opportunities to ride together when I’m home, which is great fun… in all weathers. Having Jack at home has also been really helpful logistically – he’s very reliable, and his help can’t be undervalued.
How would you describe yourself as a rider now, and how has that evolved since your early under-23 seasons?
I am thoroughly average at most things. My teammates say, “James is always here.”
I’m competitive on any parcours that’s not ridiculously mountainous – and even then, I’ll still fight for the win, or help someone do so.
That said, if the race comes down to a bunch gallop, or a small group on a slight rise, that’s the most ideal for me to be able to win.
I’ve gained strength on the bike in general since being under-23 – and I’m still only 22, so there’s more strength to come yet. I can pull the skin off a rice pudding now!
What kinds of races suit you best, and where do you feel you can express your strengths most clearly?
I literally love all races – but it depends if I have a job to do.
If my job is to win, then longer and harder races that end with punchy parcours and technical finishes are most likely to suit me.
If I’ve got other things to do – like positioning my guys – then I could do that too. Might not finish the race, but I know I could do my job properly before that.
My strengths lie in being fast, so being in a lead-out train or the leader on a fast day is good. But a climb or two or three or seven wouldn’t go amiss. When the race is naturally selective and just gradually harder, that’s something I can really get my teeth stuck into.
A fighting race where the lion comes out to play is where I know I can perform.
When results don’t come, or things don’t go to plan, how do you reset and keep perspective?
Probably go for a big bike ride – even better if it’s with the boys. They’re the best. That’s harder when I’m in France, of course, but still.
Or just going for a walk and having a coffee. Ring my sister Jaz – that helps. Mostly normal stuff, to be honest.
Having the bike as one main coping mechanism can be good and bad. Sometimes it’s great to get away and just go for a ride. Other times, if you’re fed up of the bike itself, it’s harder to find the spark – but the enjoyment and perspective always come back quickly.
I always speak with a good friend of mine from school too, actually, whose mind ticks in the same way mine does. That’s usually good for perspective – it helps make sense of my thoughts. It’s good when we’re talking and morale comes back and the dog in me starts barking again!
Looking ahead, what are your ambitions for 2026 and beyond?
Win. And progress.
Featured image: Guillaume Royer
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