ISSUE 79 OCTOBER 2019

NZ $12.95 AUS $13.95

REECE POTTER, CARDRONA, NZ.

GENRE
BENDING
FOLK HERO
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TALLBOY
120mm Travel | 29 Inch Wheels | Lifetime Warranty
A R E VO LU T I O N A RY W I N D B R E A K E R
Tarn Freeride Wind Jersey
 M O N S R O YA L E . C O M

Spring /
Summer 20

N E W S E A S O N B I K E A P PA R E L
 S PR EAD

CHARLIE'S
CHOICE
Words & Image Jay French

The moment we arrived at this location,

Charlie spotted a steep chute that he
thought would work well for a pan-shot. I
told him, "it won't work, it's too steep, it's not
the right kind of foreground, not worth it".
So we went off to shoot the trail we'd come
down to shoot. After a successful session
Charlie again suggested that we try captur-
ing a pan shot in this section, again, I told
him, "it's no good, it'll look rubbish, not worth
it" Charlie was adamant that it would work,
VR , åQDOO\ JDYH XS DQG VDLG åQH NQRFN
yourself out then, if it'll make you happy".
Turns out it worked really well, and I should
follow my own advice: it's important to let the
riders shoot on the things they're stoked to
ride, as it generally makes for a good image.
Good spotting Charlie, don't mind me.

Rider: Charlie Murray

Location: Whistler, Canada

Shutter speed: 1/40

Aperture: f9
ISO: 250
 S PR EAD

BALLS TO
THE WALL
Words & Image Sean Beale

I shot this photo during the Mountain Bikes

on Snow event at Cardrona during this
year's Winter-Fest. I was expecting the
whole race to just be pure carnage, so I
positioned myself at the end of the longest
downhill section which lead into a super
tight right-hand turn with an ass breaking
speed check bump at its apex. I thought this
would be the best spot to catch some over
the bar's money shots. To everyone's
surprise the first place rider "pictured"
hit this section at eye-watering speed,
completely sideways, one foot of the pegs
and made it look easy, the rest of the riders
delivered those money shots!

Rider: Jimmy Pollard

Location: Cardrona, NZ

Shutter speed: 1/4000

Aperture: f3.5
ISO: 110
 S PR EAD

OFF THE
BEATEN
TRACK
Words & Image Caleb Smith

Unless, for some crazy reason, you are head-

ing to Palmerston North, almost all road trips
north from Wellington lead past Foxton. Now,
thanks to Southstar Trails, you actually have
a reason other than gas to stop there. That
reason? The absolutely massive Foxton Beach
SXPS WUDFN $IWHU RXU åUVW DWWHPSW DWVKRRWLQJ
photos was thwarted by over 100 jandal wear-
ing kids on scooters, Elliot knew we had to
get back. On this, our second visit, Elliot hit the
MDFNSRW WKH OLJKW ZDV åULQJ DQG WKHUHZDVQÖWD
scooter in sight.

Rider: Elliot Smith

Location: Foxton Beach, NZ

Shutter speed: 1/1000

Aperture: f3.2
ISO: 1000
T H E O N E M O U N TA I N B I K E
T H AT D O E S I T A L L

Fuel EX rides everything, and rides everything well.

If you gotta pick just one bike, better pick this one.

trekbikes.com
 S PR EAD

BETWEEN
BABY PINES
Words & Image Jake Hood

I love going for a spin around the woods

with Katy. It always ends up in us laughing
about something for way to long. Just
EHIRUH,æHZEDFNWR1HZ=HDODQGZH
managed to squeeze in a quick blast
around one of our old stomping ground in
the Tweed Valley. I thought I would bring
my camera along and pull it out if we saw
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to 100% after her concussion in Tasmania.
6KHZDVæ\LQJWKDWQLJKW,
PUHDOO\H[FLWHG
to see what Katy will do next year in the
EWS.

Rider: Katy Winton

Location: Tweed Valley, Scotland

Shutter speed: 1/2000

Aperture: f4.0
ISO: 1250
 S PR EAD

NO FALL
ZONE
Words & Image Callum Wood

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1-hour drive from cell reception. With all that
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have to be one of the gnarlier things I've seen
WKURXJK WKH YLHZåQGHU &RQRU VHHPVWRKDYH
D SUHWW\ JRRG SURFHVV åJXUHG RXW E\ QRZZLWK
how to approach these situations in a calm
well thought out manner rather than the huck
and hope approach, which always make us
bystander feel a bit better when in the middle
of nowhere...

Rider: Conor Macfarlane

Location: Central Otago, NZ

Shutter speed: 1/1000

Aperture: f6.3
ISO: 640
 S PR EAD

NOT THE
WHOLE STORY
Words & Image Ben Karalus

There is a good story behind this shot, and I

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,WÖV D FODVVLF H[DPSOH RI WKH ROG DGDJH ÕSKRWRV
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next two frames in the sequence tell the full
story, with Nils fully nosed in and a look of
terror on his face. Like all good stories though,
this one ends well, so maybe we should just
DSSUHFLDWH WKH LQVDQH VKDSH KHÖV FXWWLQJ
I should also add that Nils, along with Brady
Stone and John Richardson, recently took out
the EWS U21 Trophy of Nations for Team
NZL. Congratulations boys!

Rider: Nils Heiniger

Location: Rotorua, NZ

Shutter speed: 1/1000

Aperture: f1.2
ISO: 100
SLAYER
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ON THE COVER REECE POTTER. CARDRONA, NZ IMAGE CAM MACKENZIE
CONTENTS
ISSUE 78: Features
80 • LYNDON’S LAUNCH
A HIT WITH HISTORY
88 • MUSING ON ADVENTURE
NOT EVERYTHING COUNTS
96 • THE GODFATHER
THE INTERESTING LIFE AND TIMES OF OX
104 • MOUNTAIN GODS
THE ARID APLINE OF THE ATACAMA

BILLY MEACLEM, BOWENVALE, CHRISTCHURCH, NZ. IMAGE JAY FRENCH

CONTENTS
ISSUE 78 : Regulars

32 • SPEAK RIDE BEFORE YOU RUN

34 • STUFF SHINY NEW THINGS
42 • RODFATHER RANTS ADDICTED TO E
44 • SPEAKER STAY MOTIVATED
48 • PLACES KIRWANS WEEKENDER
52 • SPEAKER THE COUPLE WHO ZAG
54 • PLACES A CROATIAN CONTEST
58 • SPEAKER BREAK SOME EGGS
60 • SPEAKER MEET MOPS
64 • SPEAKER FLOW STATE OF MIND
66 • EVENTS THE GETAWAY
70 • PEOPLE LEGENDS LOST
72 • EVENTS KIWI AS
76 • PEOPLE BILLY THE KID
108 • OBJETS D’HEART TESTING TESTING
122 • LAST ROLL A GIFT
BAS VAN STEENBERGEN, DIRT FARM, NZ IMAGE CAM MACKENZIE
 S PEAK
THE SIGNIFICANCE OF INERTIA
Heed the judge; don’t do nothing
Words Michael Hayward |
Inertia - a tendency to do nothing or to remain unchanged.
I have to read the odd court judgment as part of my day job (the other,
boring one that pays the bills). Mostly they’re pretty dry documents, with
the judge waffling on about dusty precedents in unintelligible legalese, but
every once in a while you get one with some real gems dropped in.
Recently I came across one where the judge was clearly having a bit of
fun, and one phrase in particular resonated with me. It read:
“The significance of inertia in human affairs should not be underestimated.”
What a wonderful line that cuts to the core of the human experience.
Mr. Judge was saying that our tendency to put up with the status quo, or to
do nothing, is so strong we often tolerate scenarios that aren’t good for us,
instead of making simple changes to improve our situation.
I’m sure we can all relate to that in our day-to-day lives—like that job we
don’t love but stomach because we don’t want to learn a new system, or
deal with new workmates. Or what about that easy home reno that would
make the house better to live in, but would push past the DIY comfort zone.
No doubt, it’s the same with mountain biking. Lots of you might be familiar
with that annoying creak that’s been there for a few rides, but doesn’t
seem to affect the way the bike rides so it hasn’t been dealt with.
Perhaps it’s just the inertia built up from a season of skipping rides when it’s
too wet or cold or dark, a habit that makes it hard to get back into the rhythm
of getting straight out into the hills for a big pedal after the working day.
32
Or maybe it’s just riding the same few trails over and over, happy to stick to
the safe familiarity, rather than venturing out to new pastures.
But here’s another thing about the human experience: while change is
scary, it’s also deeply rewarding.
So maybe it’s time to find that creak, get organised for that after-work ride, and
take on that new trail—take steps to fight that tendency to remain unchanged.
In this issue, Spoke delves into the curious mind of Rob Metz, the brain be-
hind Zerode, and finds a man who is very much against human inertia—he’s
willing to redesign almost anything if he thinks there’s a better way to do it.
We sit down with Brook Macdonald and get the details on that crash and
his next steps as he rehabilitates at Burwood Spinal Unit in Christchurch.
We’ve got the low-down on Middle Hill, the country’s newest bike park,
wedged between the ocean and the earthquake-wracked mountains to the
north of Kaikõura.
Deane takes us on a wet and wild 11-day adventure through Kahurangi
National Park by bike and packraft.
Further afield, we check out the riding in Ecuador, known for its cheap gas
and huge vertical, and ride the world’s southernmost trails in an inhospita-
ble corner of Patagonia.
Sam takes a dream trip to British Columbia to thrash some fresh Santa
Cruz creations through the mountain bike mecca of Whistler Bike Park.
Whatever rut you have in your life, we hope the stories in this issue provide
the inspiration you need to break that inertia.
SPOKEMAGAZINE.COM
 STU FF
AEROE BIKE PACK BAGS
Overnight adventures are rad, but lugging in gear can be a
chore. Aeroe is here to make it easy with these waterproof,
durable bikepacking pods that use an ingenious mount to
quickly clip to and detach from a range of mount options.
There are three convenient sizes depending on how much
JHDU\RXÖUHOXJJLQJmarleen.co.nz
MARZOCCHI BOMBER Z2
One of the most storied names in mountain bike suspen-
sion, this generation of the legendary Marzocchi Bomber
=FRPHVLQåYHOHQJWKVRIWUDYHOEHWZHHQPPDQG
150mm, as well as two choices of wheel size and two
FKRLFHVRIUDNH7KHÙYHUVLRQFDQUXQÙW\UHVZKLOH
WKHHUFDQKROGXSWRDÙmountainbikes.co.nz
SPECIALIZED DEFLECT JACKET WITH SWAT
:DWHUUHVLVWDQWZLWKH[WUDWRXJKDUPVWKH'HæHFWLV\RXU
best friend when the weather turns while riding wild trails.
7KHVWXIISRFNHWKDVEHHQGHVLJQHGWRåWQHDWO\LQWRWKH
SWAT compartment in the downtube of some Special-
L]HGELNHVVRWKHUHÖVQRH[FXVHQRWWRWDNHLWZLWK\RX
specialized.com

CAMELBAK PODIUM® FLOW™ BELT 21 OZ
For minimalists looking for maximum hydration this belt
gives you 2 litres of cargo capacity and holds a 600 ml
bottle securely to keep you cool on your hotlaps.
camelbak.com
MONS ROYALE VIRAGE SHORTS
The Virage is a rugged, light, and comfortable short
designed to go the distance with you in style. The well
WKRXJKWRXW åW DQG ZHOOSODFHG LQVHDPV PDNH WKHVH
a treat to wear all day. A zippered pocket keeps your
valuables in place through the rough stuff and the built-in
belt is a bonus. monsroyale.com
100% TRAJECTA HELMET
Full face protection meets airy ventilation. Descend with
full commitment and the clever elastomer-suspended
Smartshock rotational protection system. Breathe easy as
you winch your way back to the top. crownkiwi.co.nz
EXT ARMA HBC V3 & STORIA LOK V3 SHOCKS
EXT offers top-end coil shocks handmade in Italy. The
company draws on years of experience in the race car
suspension game. They offer all the adjustment you could
want from a shock in a slick, well-made package. The Storia
is aimed at enduro racers, and has a nifty lockout, while the
Arma is targeted at downhillers. velocitycycletech.co.nz
ABUS MONTRAILER MIPS HELMET
Not 1 but 3 polycarbonate shells and the ABUS Acticage
SURYLGHHQKDQFHGSURWHFWLRQZKHQ\RXUØ%UDDDDSÙJRHV
bad. Extensive cover at the back of your head, with a
highly adjustable transparent visor and some nifty gog-
gle/sunglass storage. abus.com
RIDE CONCEPTS TRANSITION & TRAVERSE SHOE
RC bring their super grippy rubber and D30 impact protec-
tion to a clipless pedal shoe in the Transition and Traverse.
A full nylon shank and custom moulded rubber toe and heel
SURWHFWLRQPHDQWKHVHDUHQÖW\RXUW\SLFDOGLVFRVKRHV/HVV
Studio 54, more CBGB. Transition for guys and the female
lasted Traverse for the ladies. rideconcepts.com
SPOKEMAGAZINE.COM
ALPINESTARS DENALI VEST
Primaloft insulation up front with stretch panels and storage
at the rear. Can we call this the mullet vest? Either way
this gilet will do the business while you party through your
shoulder season shreds. crownkiwi.co.nz
YT DECOY CF BASE E-BIKE
<7KDVJRQHHOHFWULF5XQQLQJD6KLPDQR(PRWRUDQG
:KEDWWHU\WKH'HFR\URFNVDPXOOHWVHWXSZLWKDÙ
IURQWDQGÙSOXVUHDU$FDUERQIURQWWULDQJOHDQGDOOR\UHDU
end, RockShox bouncers and SRAM brakes. A 65-degree
head angle and 165mm of rear travel means this bike is ready
to party when it gets steep and rough. nz.yt-industries.com
BONTRAGER ADVENTURE FRAME BAG
'HVLJQHGWRåWDUDQJHRIELNHVDQGDYDLODEOHLQWKUHH
sizes, the waterproof and tough Adventure frame bag
straps neatly inside the front triangle. Internal pockets
DQGDæXRUROLQHUIRUFRQWUDVWPDNHVLWHDV\WRNHHSJHDU
LQRUGHUDQGåQGLWZKHQ\RXQHHGLWtrekbikes.com
GIRO TYRANT HELMET
9HUVDWLOHSURWHFWLYHDQGVW\OLVKWKDWÖVWKH7\UDQW7KRXJKWKH
full-cut design is understated, this helmet is packed with fea-
WXUHVOLNH0,366SKHULFDOÔDV\VWHPXVLQJWZRIRDPOD\HUVRI
different density that move like a ball and socket to channel
LPSDFWVDZD\IURP\RXUEUDLQ$VZDQN\åWWLQJV\VWHPPHDQ
this lid is comfortable for those all-day sessions. giro.com
SPECIALIZED 2FO CLIP 2.0 SHOES
'HVLJQHGWRVDWLVI\6SHFLDOL]HGÖVWRSGRZQKLOOUDFHUVWKHVH
shoes are made light, stiff, protective, and able to play nicely
with the pedal both clipped in and unclipped. Extra long
cleat slots allow for cleats to be set up further back towards
the middle of the foot. A breathable upper is designed to
shed water so these shoes dry fast. specialized.com
BELL SUPER AIR R & SUPER AIR HELMETS
%HOOÖVWDNHQHYHU\WKLQJWKDWPDGHWKHLUSRSXODU6XSHUVR
great and somehow made it even lighter while retaining
DOOWKHVDIHW\IHDWXUHV%HOOÖV)OH[6SKHULFDO0,36UH-
duce impact force while still breathing beautifully through
WKHKHOPHWYHQWV7KH$LU5DGGVDQHDVLO\GHWDFKDEOH
chin-bar that snaps into place. bellhelmets.com
PEATY'S TUBELESS CONVERSION KIT
Everything you need to get your rig rolling tubeless.
These beauties come in four rim tape width options to
suit any style wheel. The sealant is non-toxic and biode-
gradable, and tested at DH World Cup and EWS level.
7KHYDOYHVDUHFDSSHGZLWKFRUHUHPRYDOWRROVVR\RXÖOO
never be caught short. mountainbikes.co.nz
BONTRAGER COMP MTB PEDAL SET
These SPD-compatible pedals are durable, with a
hard-wearing chromoly spindle and sealed cartridge
bearings, and feature a fully adjustable release tension
so you can be sure your feet are in and out only when
you choose. Available in classic black or a snazzy purple
DQGJROGåQLVKtrekbikes.com
BRAKING COMPLETE BRAKING SYSTEM
These Italian-made stoppers run a higher pressure
hydraulic system, so a gentle pull on the levers will send
plenty of stopping power to the caliper, which will lead
to less hand fatigue while providing a platform that can
be easily adjusted with only minute tweaks to the lever.
mountainbikes.co.nz

 STU FF
IXS TRIGGER FF
,I\RXÖUHZRUULHGDERXWZHLJKWLWÖVLPSRVVLEOHWRJRSDVW
the Trigger FF, reportedly the lightest full-face on the
market. It gives up nothing in protection or functionality
though, meeting DH standards for safety while providing
H[FHOOHQWDLUæRZWKURXJKWKH9RUWH[DHUDWLRQV\VWHP
marleen.co.nz
MONS ROYALE TARN FREERIDE WIND JERSEY
Designed to be ridden in, the Tarn Freeride takes the
comfort of merino and adds a windstopping front panel
to keep you toasty on those colder rides. A bike-focused
åW ZLWK IHDWXUHV OLNH D GURS WDLO DQG KLGGHQ VXQJODVV ZLSH
make this top a dream to ride in. monsroyale.com
GIRO VENTANA BOA & VENTANA FASTLACE
)LQGLQJVKRHVWKDWåWLVDSHUVRQDOWKLQJ*LURLVPDNLQJLW
easier with the Ventana, a robust riding shoe that can be
pulled tight by either a Boa system or the Fastlace design
(as found on some running shoes), depending on your
preference. A nylon shank for stiffness and grippy rubber
soles round out the package. giro.com

RIDE CONCEPTS MEN'S TNT SHOE
$GRZQKLOOHUÖVGHOLJKWWKH717LVDæDWSHGDOVKRHIRUWKH
gravity-inclined that focuses on protection, durability, com-
fort, and great grip. These kicks run D30 impact protection
in the sole and around the collar, while a rubber toe cap
and heel protection keeps your feet safe from pedal strikes.
rideconcepts.com
ENDURA MT500 FULL FACE HELMET
Light weight. Heavy duty. A full Koroyd construction and
a unique internal skeleton to let you take as much air as
\RX ZDQW $W  JUDPV WKLV LV WKH OLJKWHVW '+ FHUWLåHG IXOO
face helmet on the market. endurasport.com
AEROE REAR RACK MOUNT
This rack straps easily and securely to any rear triangle and
will carry two Bike Pack Bags of any size with the two built-
in mounts. A third can be added to the bar in the middle.
$HURHÖVPRXQWLQJV\VWHPPDNHVLWHDV\WRJHW\RXUJHDU
on and off your bike, and set it up so it sits comfortably.
marleen.co.nz
ALPINESTARS NEVADA PANTS
:KHQLWÖVFROGDQGZHWRXWVLGHGRQÖWFXUOXSLQIURQWRI
the TV to watch more Friday Fails. Get out and mash
those pedals in these lightly insulated, breathable and
water repellent riding pants. crownkiwi.co.nz
BONTRAGER RALLY SHOES
These durable clip-pedal shoes relish a bit of punishment,
featuring an abrasion-resistant coating on the heel and
toe, a reinforced toe box and a tough synthetic leather
upper. EVA midsoles provide shock absorption for hard
impacts while the Velcro strap holds everything in place
when it gets rowdy. trekbikes.com
100% ALTEC HELMET
100% lets you go full ham in this lightweight trail helmet
featuring their Smartshock suspended rotational system. A
patented system of 14 elastomers between the EPS liner
and pads reduce energy transfer to the brain over a wide
range of speed and impact types. crownkiwi.co.nz
SPOKEMAGAZINE.COM
 T H E A L L N E W

P R O C E S S

WE TOOK THE BEST CHARACTERISTICS FROM OUR FAVORITE BIKES AND

PUT THEM ALL INTO THE NEW PROCESS 134 LINEUP. BALANCED GEOMETRY,
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PERFECTED CABLE ROUTING MAKE UP THE BEST TRAIL BIKES WE’VE EVER MADE.

konaworld.com
Available from bikebarn stores nationwide. bikebarn.co.nz
 S PEAK E R

WHY AM I NERVOUS AT THE TRAIL?

It’s all in the breathing
Words Jay Barrett, Performance Psychology Coach | Image Odin Woods

I get to the forest for my ride and meet up with the group. Out of the idence suggesting that practising controlled breathing techniques over time
corner of my eye, I see Charlie. Suddenly I have a spike in pre-riding nerves could help shift the body’s response from ‘alert’ to ‘calm’, along with reducing
because Charlie rides right on my back wheel and it puts me under way too anxiety during a test or activity. Research also suggests that practising cer-
much pressure. These nerves take my focus away from riding and instead I tain controlled breathing techniques can help improve performance.
start worrying about only going fast. So, what now?
If I apply this to my riding, practising controlled breathing may help me
Pre-riding nerves can be explained as our performance anxiety response. control my nerves to a level I would like, where I can keep my focus on the
Performance anxiety or performance nerves is a one-off response about actual riding and not on the others there.
the upcoming ride. It can be good, as it can help someone perform at their
In context, using controlled breathing techniques over time may help me
best—the perfect balance between too many and not enough nerves. Or, per-
change my reaction to seeing Charlie (from having too many nerves, to
formance anxiety can cause someone to have stressful thoughts associated
finding my balance between too many and not enough nerves). By calming
with the upcoming ride (ie ‘going fast’) or feeling judged by those watching
myself down using my controlled breathing, I may be able to help myself
(ie ‘Charlie sitting on my back wheel’), ultimately taking focus away from
shift to performing at my best by giving myself more mental resources for
the actual riding. Instead of just putting up with these negative performance
focusing on the actual riding, not worrying or having stressful thoughts about
nerves, there are some mental skills tools that may help someone find the
Charlie tailing me.
area where they can perform at their best.
Now the only thing left for me to do is ride my ride.
One way we can start lowering our performance nerves is to control our
breathing. In a review of research I did while studying, I found there was ev-

SPOKEMAGAZINE.COM
38
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 TH E R OD FATH E R RANTS

MULLETS
They worked great in the ‘70s... what about now?
Words Rod “rocking a permed mullet back in ‘82” Bardsley | Illustration Sam Baker

They say that if you rocked a trend the first time around, then you’re too
old to rock it again when it swings back decades later. Well luckily for you
readers, the Rodfather is a timeless icon and can make anything work at
any time. You should see me in socks and sandals!
Mullet bikes: yes, it’s stressing me out too. Business in the front, party in
the back. It’s not new. There’s been 69ers for yonks and recently the Foes
Mixer fumbled into the scene with a 27.5/29er. Even now the industry can’t
decide what the numbers are; 975er? Let’s keep it simple: it’s a 79er.
Is it better? Faster? Funner? There’s some unsupported data online that
says it’s an improvement on same-wheel-sized bikes and the theory is good.
A big front wheel rolls over terrain better and a small back wheel keeps the
handling lively. There’s talk of better cornering, anti-tip, constant attack posi-
tion, less push-pull effect in corners, and vector this, torque that.
Look, we know now that 29ers are faster, smoother and grippier, but also
that 275 is snappier and more playful. So doesn’t it make sense that if com-
bined, you get the best of both worlds? In my Neanderthal brain, yes it does.
And out on the trail? We’ve seen a whole lot of riders win races on mullet
bikes. But my old mantra of 5% bike and 95% rider kicks in. You can argue
that these winners may be riding mullets because they only had 275 bikes
from their teams and had to try something to compete with the faster 29ers.
Chuck a 29er fork and wheel on and BOOM!
So how do we plebs find out for real? Easy. If you were sucked into the
already-passing (ha) 29er fad, all you need is the 275 back wheel from your
antique bike you can’t sell to chuck on the back. #mullettimebabyyeah. Try-
ing to sell your 275 before you get a 29er and it’s been 12 months already?
Bite the bullet, find a 29er fork and wheel and you’re back in business.
Buy a dedicated mullet bike? That’s not easy… yet! The industry is going to
have to decide on the geo for that conundrum.
Which conversion is better? You decide, depending on your bike.
29er conversion: lower BB, slacker seat/head angles, a shorter reach, keep
your long chainstay, less rear tyre arse scrub, cheap to do, can run a 2.8”
rear tyre, probably have a 275 wheel in the shed.
275 conversion: higher BB, even slacker seat/head angles/shorter reach,
keep your short chainstay, have to buy a fork and wheel.
Back the truck up. What about putting a 26” rear wheel on your 275 bike?
My head is hurting again.
Ever since I discovered mullet bikes back in ’16 when I punctured my 29er
rear tyre so threw on my 275plus rear wheel to get back on the Vegas
shuttle as quickly as possible, I’ve been a fan. So has Zerode’s Rob Metz,
and that’s the first time we’ve ever agreed on anything. He’s smart, I’m
dumb: I just nod a lot. Have a look at Zerode’s new Mulét platform.
Putting a 29er fork and wheel on your 275 is a great option for moving
forward but the added height at the front may freak you out, especially
climbing. But going down? Holy crap, you are going to love it! Put a 275
back wheel on your 29er? Too easy, as you can do it for free in five minutes
if you borrow a mate’s wheel. Same issues but as you’re only dropping a
wheel size, and not adding a longer fork, the change isn’t as radical.
If you have a 27.5-plus bike then just get a 29er front wheel. If you have a
geo chip in your bike then things are going to work even better. You’ll bene-
fit the most if you have a low BB 27.5 or a high BB 29er that would benefit
from a slacker head angle.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, yet many in the industry haven’t, it’s that a
whole lot of time and money could have been saved if we’d just followed
motorcycle design from the beginning. What wheel sizes do they run for
moto? 18” rear and 21” front. Goddammit!
And another thing. I can assure you that, better or not, we’re going to see
some pretty slick marketing featuring great hairstyles convincing you that
mullet bikes are better. So don’t quit your day job and do make space for
another bike in the shed.

41
 S PEAK E R

FIXATION DISORDER
Does a ride count if it’s not recorded?
Words Mr Brightside | Image Dan Milner

My name is Mr B, and I have an addiction. It’s not a mental illness by the
clinical definition, but is an insidious reliance that leaves me feeling hollow
and melancholy without it. I’m talking about Strava, obviously. But I’m taking
steps to regulate my behaviour.
The turning point came in the same way as many moments of self-realisation
do for those who’ve slipped into reliance on external stimulus for their sup-
posed heightened sense of enjoyment. A single event that, upon reflection,
made me realise I’d gradually shifted into a pattern of use that could be
defined as addiction.
I’d had a solid run of a few weeks with a light workload and good weather.
That culminated in a lot of rides in the forest and I was in the groove, with
good fitness and skills feeling on point. On the day in question I’d set the
alarm for a super-early start at work and cleared my workload for an after-
noon session on my bike with a clear head.
I was on fire. Hitting up my favourite trails, I simply couldn’t do a thing wrong;
it was glorious. Towards the end, my thoughts drifted toward how my Strava
segments would shape up when I downloaded my data that evening. I knew
I’d never ridden the technical Widow Maker trail that fast before, and never
hit all the tricky root sections without missing the race line on at least one.
Then, disaster. My ride data file was corrupted! I was shattered. I was staring
at a generic message on the screen telling me I’d wasted one of the best
rides of my life. It had all been for nothing—I was unlikely to get such a great
run of form again any time soon. That would definitely have been a PB,
maybe even getting onto the leaderboard and contending for the KOM. The
ride didn’t even count!
It took a while, but self-awareness kicked in; of course the ride counted, in
the truest sense of the term. My legs and lungs didn’t know they weren’t
being recorded, and neither did the endorphins or any of that good stuff my
brain does when riding my bike. I loved the ride, every second of it—some
minor bragging rights on Strava wouldn’t make the experience any better.
Since then I’ve been using my Strava account differently. Sometimes I’ll ride
without recording it, still riding as hard as I feel like, and simply enjoying being
in the moment. A very Zen-like mindset, I must say. I still use Strava some-
times, usually to record bigger rides or explorations of new trails so I can refer
to them in future. So although I haven’t gone completely cold turkey, I think
I’ve kicked the habit of letting Strava determine a ride’s ‘success’.

SPOKEMAGAZINE.COM
42
www.crownkiwi.co.nz
@100percent_nz
SM
 PE OPLE
INJURY UPDATE: BROOK MACDONALD
Checking in with the Bulldog
Words Simon Makker | Images Simon Makker & Nathan Hughes
The UCI Downhill World Championships at Mont-Sainte-Anne, Canada will
be remembered for two things—Frenchman Loic Bruni’s enthralling defence
of the rainbow jersey, and the horrific crash that left MS Mondraker’s Brook
Macdonald to suffer through a prolonged and controversial evacuation
process with a broken back.
Now back in New Zealand and undergoing rehabilitation at Christchurch’s
Burwood Spinal Unit, the 27-year-old is tackling this new challenge as he
does every track he faces: head-on, sleeves rolled up, and with total commit-
ment. We caught up with the Hawkes Bay native to get his thoughts on what
happened on that Canadian hillside, his progress, and what the future holds.
Cheers for the chat, Brook. First of all, how was your mindset that weekend
of the World Championships? In practice and qualifying you were ripping.
Yeah, I was feeling good. I felt like I’d peaked at the right time towards the
end of the season and my results were pretty solid leading up to the World
Champs. I felt confident coming into Mont-Sainte-Anne, and qualified in third,
so it felt like it was shaping up to be a good weekend. Then in my first prac-
tice run on Sunday I was just checking it out and got caught off-guard.
What exactly happened?
It was a slow section—nothing too crazy—but there was a root at the top of
a rock roll that caught my back wheel and sent me over the bars. I landed
straight on my back, compressed, and bounced off the bike.
There had been seven other riders who had crashed in the same spot, in-
cluding Reece Wilson, who received concussion and stitches in his leg. Steve
Peat grilled the UCI about it afterwards and they removed the root for the
finals, but by then the damage had been done. They should’ve been looking
at it before we were out there training.
Did you know straight away it was bad?
Yeah, instantly. The pain kicked in straight away and I couldn’t feel my legs
as I had a burst fracture, so the vertebrae was pushing on my spine, cutting
all function to my legs. I was pretty calm about it all though. I was in pain and
worried about the fact I’d lost feeling to my legs, but I also felt confident in
myself that things were going to turn out okay.
It sounds like you had some riders you’re close to around you very quickly.
Who was there, and how much peace of mind did their presence provide?
That made a huge difference. Loic [Bruni] was right behind me and saw my
crash. He came straight over and chilled with me and kept me calm. Wyn
[Masters] and Blenki [Sam Blenkinsop] were also there quickly and helped
carry me off the trail, and Peaty [Steve Peat] also hung around for the whole
deal and dramas that took place on the hill. All those boys really supported
me and fought against the decision to cart me off the hill on a four-wheeler.
Knowing I had people around me that I knew and trusted helped a lot.
You just touched on it, but what exactly happened with your rescue?
It was a shambles. I was left for five hours waiting for a helicopter. They were
going back and forth with how to get me off the hill, and when the helicopter
was going to turn up. They basically lied to me about when it was coming—
they were like ‘can you hear it? It’s coming now’, then afterwards they said
it was thirty minutes away. But that was all a lot of shit—forty minutes went
past, then an hour, then ninety minutes.
They also tried to carry me off the hill on a quad, and myself, Wyn and Blenki
were like ‘there’s no way that’s happening’. I had a broken back; putting me on
the back of the four-wheeler could’ve done some serious additional damage.
How do you feel about the way you were treated?
It was pretty crap. If it had happened in New Zealand I would’ve been off the
hill in an hour. I just don’t think they had any plans for something that serious
and hadn’t thought that sort of situation through.
I read UCI’s response that they provided to media and it was pretty shit—they
made it sound like they did everything right, but in reality they were just
covering their arse. The whole report made it sound like they had everything
in place and they did the best they could, but if it takes five hours to get a
guy off the mountain, there’s something seriously wrong. If they’d deemed
it a life-threatening injury, the army could’ve been there in twenty minutes,
but even though they had someone observing me, they had no idea if I had
internal bleeding or something more serious.
What exactly were the injuries you sustained?
I broke the T12 and had a burst fracture of the L1. The L1 was sitting on
the spinal cord, which affected feeling to my legs. The doctors have inserted
two rods and eight screws into my back to stabilise my spine and relieve the
pressure of the bone fragment against the spinal cord. I haven’t done that
much research on it, to be honest. I’d rather go off what my body and the
doctor tell me.
What does the recovery process look like?
It looks like I’ll be about a month in Christchurch. The aim is to get me out as
fast as possible. After that, it’ll take as long as it takes to get back to where I
need to be. The specialists here are really impressed with what I’m doing and
the mobility I’ve achieved. I think mentally you’ve got to be in a strong posi-
tion to deal with this sort of thing as it can beat you down hard. I’m keeping a
positive mindset, which I reckon is just as important as the physical recovery.
Has the crash changed the way you think about downhill racing, or riding in
general?
Not at all. My aim is to get back to the level I was at and get that feeling
back again. Organisationally though, I want UCI to sort their shit out and
have the best medical care they can, regardless of where the race is held. In
Europe it’s not such a big deal as the Alps are pretty accessible, but I think
this sort of accident in Canada was an eye-opener for them. They didn’t
prepare well for that event with the doctors and helicopter not being on call,
so I hope they’ve learnt something from it all.
How have you found the support from riders, friends, fans, and the industry
since your crash?
It’s been amazing, and pretty overwhelming, to be honest. The messages and
support I’ve received from everyone has just been crazy, even down to the
guy who made the Kia Kaha stem caps for the riders at Red Bull Hardline.
My girlfriend Lucy has been such a rock as well. She’s been amazing the
whole time and made the whole experience so much easier.
This interview has been lightly edited for brevity and clarity.
45
SM
 PLACE S
THE TRUSTY CHEVROLET BLAZER
A rust-bucket from 1998 is a marginal travel companion
Words Charlie Murray | Images Jay French, Charlie Murray & Sven Martin
Chapter 1 - Jump Start – The mission to the Trails
Touching down in Vancouver, I was a bundle of nervous energy, excited to
ride and race in one of the world’s most famous mountain bike destinations—
but first I had to get from the city up to Whistler. What is, in theory, an easy
task turned into a six-hour ordeal that still only got me as far as Squamish.
Knowing that great New Zealander Tom Bradshaw was residing somewhere
near Vancouver, I flicked him a text saying I’d shout him sushi (world’s best
sushi in Vancouver) if he could swing by the airport and pick me up. An
hour later a sweaty man in Kiwiana clothing rolled up in a Nissan Xterra
and parked on an angle about two metres from the curb. Exchanging hugs
and some banter, we began trying to pack his poorly-loaded truck. After the
best part of an hour (thirty minutes talking to thirty minutes packing) we’d
managed to fit his life and my month’s worth of gear in the boot. Next stop
was sushi where my card declined and Bradshaw ended up paying; my lunch
shout had taken a 180 degree turn.
About eight months before I arrived, my brother Craig had ditched his car, a
mighty 1998 Chevrolet Blazer, in Vancouver in a rushed attempt to catch an
international flight. He thought this American registered car might actually be
worth some money if someone could get it from its current location (parked on
the street in a quiet Vancouver suburb) across the border and into the USA.
This someone turned out to be me. A blessing or a curse? We weren’t to know
until I was safely on the plane back to New Zealand.
The first problem was finding the thing. A Facebook message from Craig
revealed someone by the name of Johnny G had the key and knew the rough
location where the car was last seen. We tracked down Johnny G and made
our way to his house to collect the key. Upon arrival the flatmates were in
disbelief. ‘You’re picking up that thing?’ ‘It’s got something living in it.’ ‘She
was dead flat about three months ago, mate.’ These comments didn’t help my
already fading optimism. Thanking the boys for their advice and directions, we
picked up a set of jumper leads and headed off across Vancouver to find the
beast. We rounded the last corner and there she was, flat battery and all.
Bradshaw had a date to make so he gave me a jump start, piled my gear on
the side of the road and took off. I began a closer investigation of the machine.
In the footwell was a bag of apples, open pottle of yoghurt, and a bag a
muesli, not to mention a couple of pairs of nice-looking skis in the back. Both
the apples and yoghurt had tripled in size and were quite colourful and furry.
Throwing those out, the car was now possible to drive without a clothes peg
on your nose. I threw the bike in the back and started making my uninsured
way up the Sea-to-Sky Corridor. As soon as I got onto the motorway, I noticed
the fuel light was on. With no maps and no idea how long the light had been
on, I had to wing my way to a gas station. Luckily, I found one in about 10
minutes and the Blazer still had fuel in the tank. All filled up, I went to start it
again and nothing. Bugger, I hadn’t given it enough time to charge up. After a
jump start from a random guy, the reliable old girl was back purring in a matter
of minutes. At this point I realised it had zero coolant in the radiator, so I left
it running on the street behind the gas station and ran into the shop, bought
a bottle of antifreeze and ran back out before someone lurking in the dodgy
neighborhood jumped in and drove off in their new car. Slightly less nervous
with a full tank of gas and a full radiator, I was finally on my way.
Chapter 2 – Firing on All cylinders
Firing on all cylinders, I arrived in Squamish in the late evening, deciding to
call it a day and crash with a Kiwi mate. The next morning, I supplemented
the eight-month-old muesli with some wild blackberries found growing on the
side of the road and headed over to meet Rosara and Bradshaw for some
trail advice. It turns out Squamish has some of the best riding I’d ever done,
which became a theme for the remainder of the trip. Tracks like Entrails or In
‘n’ Out Burger give you a taste of the awesome slabs and technical trails in
Squamish. We laid down the rigs once the day became too hot, and headed
up the road to Whistler. Rolling into the village, there were people everywhere:
bikers, hikers, tourists and yogis—you name it, they were there. Crankworx
was about to kick off and there was an electric buzz in the air.
Linking up with some Canadian mates, they were quick to rip me to shreds.
First, for driving a rust riddled car that looked as if the wheels were about to
fall off, second, for doing so with no insurance, and finally for the smell com-
ing from the car, which I had thought was fading, but maybe it was me. After
further investigation I discovered an avocado lurking in the centre console. It’s
fair to say it was a waste of what would’ve been a decent avocado sometime
in history—it was so old and deformed the only thing it might’ve been good for
was a museum.
Once the boys had settled down from our archaeological discovery it was
time to get stuck into riding some of the terrain Whistler has to offer. I wasn’t
disappointed; each day the sun would set and my to-do list would have
increased since the morning. For every track you ride you see two more you
need to ride next time. I don’t know if there’s a finite number or if there really
are unlimited tracks in the area. After a few days riding the bike park and
practising the EWS trails, Crankworx began, the rain came, and the EWS
kicked off. The two-day race was wild and muddy. I managed to put in an
18th place on the top of the world stage on day one. Day two consisted of
a mixed bag, but I was stoked to end up in 34th. The Kiwis smashed it, with
Eddie Masters and Junior John Richardson making it up onto the box.
Chapter 3 – Off to the wreckers
After the race I had a week to celebrate, ride, and explore the Sea-to-Sky
Corridor. Linking up with a few good boys we ventured further afield, riding a
day in Pemberton and another in Squamish. You can’t really go wrong. I don’t
think I went down one track I didn’t enjoy during my time in BC. The climbs
though, that’s a different story. Climbing trails are few and far between. Cana-
dians tend to just go straight up fireroads; it’s a good way to get fit and strong
quickly if you’ve just come from winter.
The morning after the EWS, Bradshaw and I decided to go for a mission up
the infamous Lord of the Squirrels. After about four hours of climbing, we ar-
rived dehydrated at the top in some beautiful alpine terrain. The descent was
flowy, loamy, and went on for what felt like an hour. The tone for the week
was set. A minimum of six hours’ riding a day was the theme, with often less
than six hours of sleep. A few nights after the race Bradshaw disappeared
in his typical no-warning fashion from our riding group. Not thinking much of
it, the boys pushed on. The physically demanding riding along with the late
nights took their toll, and it wasn’t long before everyone was a little under
 PLACE S CANADA
the weather, though spirits were lifted when Cole Lucas decided to turn 21
and the Kiwi crew put on a bit of a party for him. After the yardie, executed
in medium-rare fashion, the boys came up with a game of alternative cricket.
Compulsory cold one in hand, the game was based on BYC but with a few
curveballs. Firstly, the batter and bowler both had to wear full face helmets.
The bowler came down the pitch on an enduro bike in granny gear before de-
livering his (soccer) ball while mounted. The batsman then took a swing and
had to run the length of the pitch in ski boots. After a number of boys hit the
deck and a few angry neighbours came out to investigate blaring car alarms,
we called it a day and headed down to the driving range.
As our week in Disneyland came to an end, we crammed bikes and gear
into the Blazer and headed to Northstar, California. With one eye on the
temperature gauge and the other on the fuel, we slowly made our way down
to Portland and through to Lake Tahoe. The poor Blazer was groaning up the
hills and we were worried it might give up at any minute. After two full days of
driving we arrived. Dropping off my travel partner, I headed over the last hill to
meet up with the NZ Arapi team. Pretty much the entire team was suffering.
The post-Whistler sickness, both mental and physical, had caught up with
us. The sleepless nights and long days of riding combined with the odd beer
took their toll. I soon realised that the disappearance of Tom Bradshaw about
two days into the Whistler stint was actually a premeditated escape from the
Whistler vortex. He reappeared a few days later in Ecuador riding bikes at
PDERYHVHDOHYHO>(GLWRUÔKHWHOOVXVDERXWKLVWULSODWHULQWKHLVVXH@
The two biggest revelations of the Whistler experience were as follows. First-
ly, trails this good should be illegal (some of them are).

6HFRQGO\KRZGRSHRSOHVXUYLYHORQJWHUPLQ:KLVWOHU",WÖVPD\KHP
Chapter 4 – On to the End
The Northstar race was a real experience. The Kiwis had some highs and
lows throughout the week. The Pivot crew had their RV/armoured vehicle full
of toy guns from Walmart. This turned into the Kiwi base. Eddie Masters and
Jenna Makgill both managed to break their wrists. Apart from that and the
weird dry powder dirt we were riding, the race was awesome. I was stoked to
put down my best ever stage result with a 6th place in the Queen stage and
WKRYHUDOO0DWW:DONHUDQG5DH0RUULVRQZHUHRQåQHIRUPDJDLQSXOOLQJ
solid placings for the Kiwis.
$IWHUDGU\GXVW\UDFHLQ1RUWKVWDULWZDVWLPHIRUPHWRHPEDUNRQWKHåQDO
leg of the Blazerthon from Lake Tahoe to San Francisco. I spent a day riding
and swimming with the NZ Arapi and Transition crew I jumped in the Blazer
DQGKLWWKHURDG,åOOHGXSWKHJDVWDQNDQGFKHFNHGWKHRLODQGZDWHUIRU
what I hoped to be the last time. It was actually out of oil so had to buy a
bottle and top it up. The eight hours of extra time I gave myself before my
æLJKWWRDOORZIRUPHFKDQLFDOLVVXHVWXUQHGRXWWREHXQQHFHVVDU\7KH%OD]HU
groaned through almost 40 degree heat and arrived in San Fran without skip-
SLQJDEHDW$IWHUSDUNLQJLWRQWKHVWUHHWRXWVLGHDIULHQGÖVSODFHLQ2DNODQG,
gathered up my 60 kilograms of luggage, waved the beautiful Chevy goodbye,
and set out on a short hike to the nearest train station. Sitting down on the
WUDLQ,EUHDWKHGDVLJKRIUHOLHI,FRXOGåQDOO\UHOD[DIWHUDPRQWKLQZKLFKWKH
Blazer had kept me on edge.
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 FOR THE
FEARLESS
CAN OCCUR EVEN WITH PROTECTION, INCLUDING DURING LOW SPEED IMPACTS.
MOUNTAIN BIKING CAN BE DANGEROUS. SERIOUS INJURY OR DEATH

T.O.R.O.
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H E L M E T C A R RY
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BACK VIEW

I N T E G R AT E D TO O L O RG A N I Z AT I O N
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TO SEE THE FULL LINE OF IMPACT PROTECTOR PACKS VISIT: CAMELBAK.COM/MTB © 2018 CAMELBAK PRODUCTS, LLC.
 PLACE S
FAULT LINES
The story of Middle Hill bike park
Words Michael Hayward | Images Digby Shaw & Ben Karalus
It was two minutes after midnight when a violent earthquake rippled
through the South Island, tearing huge cracks in the land, wrecking
homes and changing lives in often unexpected ways.
Though the huge jolt on 14 November 2016 was centred in a paddock
near Waiau, North Canterbury, it quickly became known as the Kaikõura
earthquake due to the devastating effects it had on the suddenly stranded
coastal town. But in the quiet Clarence Valley, about 40 kilometres further
north, the quake had its most dramatic effects on the local geology.
The Papatea fault line caused some of the most impressive vertical
displacement recorded anywhere in the world, with a wall of earth almost
10 metres tall shooting up in an instant on a rugged deer and merino farm
called Middle Hill. The shaking damaged most of the buildings on the prop-
erty, with media reporting repair costs that ran into the millions of dollars.
Because of this, Genevieve King decided she had better stop chasing the
snow to “come home and do my bit to create a future” on the family farm. It
started a chain of events that eventually led to the development of Middle
Hill into New Zealand’s freshest mountain bike park.
The trails are from the efforts of Gen and her partner Morgan Rigby, who
used to build trail at the renowned Wairoa Gorge, and recently helped build
the soon-to-open Paparoa/Pike29 Great Ride / Walk. The pair matched
on Tinder almost two years ago, arranging a meet up at the top of Takaka
Hill to ride the Rameka trail on New Year’s. Morgs was working as a driller
in Canada at the time (he was home for Christmas) and soon headed back
overseas, but the two kept in touch, and when he came back to New Zea-
land long-term last October, he went straight to Clarence to start punching
out fresh track.
Gen’s a relatively recent convert to mountain biking, taking it up about
three years ago. She says that soon after she bought a bike, she was out
on the farm with a grubber and a pruning saw to create some lines to
ride. Past experiences had opened Gen’s eyes to the potential of tourism
and visitor attractions—her father had run a trophy hunting business on
the farm for about 20 years and she had been a raft guide on the nearby
Clarence River—so she was soon dreaming of creating a bike park on the
land her family have been farming for almost six decades.
The site is stunning: one edge of the property is marked by the Clarence
River, while the other border butts up against the seaward Kaikõura
Ranges. The hilly section of the farm used to be given over to merinos but
is now thick with mãnuka and other natives as the bush is left to regener-
ate. This is the first zone Gen and Morgz are working to develop, with five
trails running down the approximately 450 vertical metres available. The
tracks are a mix of digger and hand built, with flowy trails for intermediate
level riders, and steep, technical lines for those with a bit more experi-
ence. Gen’s favourite trail is still the first one she put in (though it’s had
a substantial facelift since then), called Wharakiri Ridge Trail, which has
outstanding mountain and ocean views. She says the combination of the
mountains, river, and sea so close together make Clarence a great spot to
live or visit.
Morgz says the digging is generally pretty easy, typically with the topsoil
running straight to clay underneath, but building one section on a track
called Wild Boarz was “the gnarliest shit” he’s ever done in a digger due to
the very steep and rocky terrain.
He says making the hand-built trails is fun, and makes good use of the
skills he picked up at Wairoa, using rocks to create a support for the bench.
51
 PLACE S M I DDLE H I LL

A few different digging styles have been employed, with some tracks staying
a lot more natural than others. The shape of the terrain has been used to
guide the trails as much as possible.
The pair have had plenty of help from the Middle Hill Shredders Association, a
group of friends who have donated their time and efforts to building the track.
Gen says the number of people who have lent a hand has been mind blowing.
Spoke photographer Jason Beacham describes the feel of Middle Hill as like
one of Canterbury’s club skifields; expect those who love riding there to be
repping their favourite old ripped cotton T-shirt and mismatched kit, but still ab-
solutely shredding (though those who like to match are still welcome to come).
He says it’s “just a relaxing place to go ride a bike, but it doesn’t mean the
riding is relaxing”. The downhill track in particular left Jase feeling wide-eyed;
he says it’s steep, gnarly, varied, and natural, but it all works. On the easier
trails, anyone who can handle grade three or intermediate tracks comfortably
should be able to have a blast for a day.
Whatever they end up doing in the future, Gen plans to stay true to the
current ethos; “sometimes I start dreaming of chairlifts, ziplines, helibiking—
but I think we should focus on providing a unique place to ride, and not let
it go in the direction of being over-commercialized.”
There’s also a second mountain bike park somewhere in the couple’s
future. Morgz has built a fairly serious jump line on his family farm in
Dovedale, up the Motueka Valley, and plans to develop it further into a
place where riders can progress their jumping skills (he’s a serious sender
himself). Keep an eye out for Woodstock Bike Park in the future.
Gen is thankful for a lot of people and circumstances that meant Middle
Hill could move from a twinkle in her eye to a real project: her dad for
letting her make a go of it on the family farm, Morgz for “turning up in my
life at the perfect time” and putting in the work and passion to get the trails
up and running, and all the friends and family who have put their time and
energy in along the way. But she’s also a little thankful to the earthquake
for pulling her home and sending her life in an unexpected direction.

So what does the future hold for Middle Hill? Gen says there is unlimited-
potential on the property. There’s a bit of a plan in place: the next steps For more information, including pricing and shuttle days, go to middle-
are to keep adding to the trail network and to build some cabins for guest hillmtb.com or search for Middle Hill MTB on Facebook.
accommodation. Further into the future, there are plans to expand into some
of the other zones in the more remote corners of the farm. Gen says there is
“potential for people to spend multiple days on the property, staying at huts
way out the back and riding in the mountains, as well as lapping the trails
in the front country using shuttle vehicles”. Gen also hopes to work with
Clarence River Rafting to put together some multi-day raft and mountain
bike combo packages.

SPOKEMAGAZINE.COM
52
 RIDICULOUSLY ROWDY.

RIDER: Ron Koch / PHOTO: Ben Stanziale

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 TRAVE L
RIDE ECUADOR
A trip into the unknown
Words & Images Tom Bradshaw
I knew it was in South America, and I knew Mateo, the man behind Ride
Ecuador. So the day after racing the EWS in Whistler, I was on a plane to
Quito with my bike and no idea what I was in for.
A quick Google will tell you Ecuador is a country of 14 million people on the
northwest coast of South America. Its position on the equator means sunrise
and sunset are at 6:15am atnd 6:15pm every day of the year.
US dollars are the exclusive currency after the country’s peso plummeted
in 1999 due to hyperinflation. The main export is oil; a full tank of diesel
for the Ford 150 we travelled in cost USD$13. Yep, $13, for 12 gallons (or
45 litres). The government is heavily in debt and not opposed to selling the
country’s resources to money-hungry multinationals.
Ecuador has a diverse, beautiful, and impressionable geography. It’s relatively
small (just bigger than New Zealand by area), and is split into four distinct
geographies: The west of the country lines the Pacific coast with hot, muggy
beaches and even some decent surf. The middle of the country dramatically
rises to the Avenida de Volcanoes (Avenue of Volcanoes). Capital city Quito
lies here, at 2800 metres above sea level. To put that in perspective, Ruape-
hu is 2797m. The volcanoes visible from Quito are well above 5000m. Fur-
ther into eastern Ecuador, the mountains drop away into the deep Amazon.
The rivers from the Volcanoes run east, eventually feeding into the Amazon
River in Brazil. The fourth distinct region is the Galapagos Islands. The small
archipelago lies 973 kilometres west into the Pacific, and is home to what
must be the most friendly, diverse, and accessible marine wildlife in the
world. I had the pleasure of spending a week exploring here, but as this is a
mountain biking story, I’ll leave the Galapagos to Attenborough and Darwin.
Mateo Cutez—aka the Gnome, the Goblin, De Nada Bro—grew up in Ecuador,
and started Ride Ecuador five years ago. His mission is to show international
visitors the best enduro and downhill riding the country has to offer. He’s
hosted a range of riders with varying abilities, and custom designs every tour,
from single day XC rides to ten-day enduro epics. Mateo was the local guide
for Finn Iles and Rob Warner, for an episode of “Rob’s Wild Rides”.
Mateo was playing host to Roberto and Brian who run Peru Biking, a similar
operation based out of Cusco, Peru. The four of us headed off from Quito
in an F150 for an eight-day riding tour of the Avenue of Volcanoes. The
following is a brief account of two of the best days.
Cotopaxi is a perfect cone overlooking the capital city of Quito. At 5800m,
Cotopaxi is still an active volcano, just 50km south of the city. Its last erup-
tion was in 2015, and covered the permanent snowpack black for almost a
year. We were going shuttling on it. A recent government change generously
gifted the country’s National Parks back to the people; they are now free to
enter. The catch is you must always enter with a National Park guide, who
may or may not speak English. Or Spanish for that matter. Luckily Mateo had
sorted us a buddy and regular guide turned shuttle driver.
A main road, not unlike the Treble Cone access road, took us to just over
4000m. Cotopaxi itself is uncannily like Ngauruhoe, only a few thousand me-
tres higher. We were dropped near the bottom of the snowpack, and began
pushing and puffing our bikes up as far as we could.
This type of altitude can be a problem, but the only side-effect of the lofty
heights that we encountered was in my hands. If I let my fingers get too cold,
they would swell up to the size of yams until I either warmed them up or
descended a thousand vertical metres. We did the latter.
On our first run we dropped south down a beautiful piece of scree—the
definition of bike skiing. The speed was high and before I knew it, we had
descended the 1000m and my yams had turned back into fingers. Waiting
at the bottom was our shuttle driver. It didn’t take long, partly due to his rally
driving skills, before we were back at the top for another run. Mateo showed
us another scree slope to the north. Each run started with an unreal scree
55
 TRAVE L ECUADOR
slope before dropping into either technical rock, wide open grass, or a
gnarly mixture of both. We shuttled the main road all day, finding and
picking new lines each run.
We had another filling of pollo (chicken) for a late lunch before driving
further south and up to Urbano, a beautiful but cold hostel at the base of
Chimbarozo. I quickly figured out why I was so cold—Urbano sits at the
base of a 6300m high mountain.
Chimbarozo is the highest mountain in Ecuador, at 6268m above sea level.
It’s topped by a massive permanent glacier that, before refrigerators and
freezers, used to host a large ice farming economy. Ice was taken directly
from the bottom of the glacier by the ice farmers and trekked down into
the valleys for sale. We descended one of these ice roads.
We drove as high up as we could, to about 4700m. From there it was a
slow hike-a-bike up to 5000m, just below the glacier. This high, the land-
scape was barren with just volcanic rock leading down the slopes. After
a few minutes we got our breath back and began the two-hour descent
down the 2000 vertical metre ice trail to the town of San Miguel.
Another feed of pollo was well earned before we headed to the top of the
Mama Rumi, or Mother Rock, trail—not to be mistaken for Mama Sita, or
Hot Mama. By this point we were at 3000m on the western edge of the
highlands. It was unbelievable. From the top of Mama Sita, looking west the
mountains dramatically dropped away to the coast. Sitting halfway up this
wall of jungle-clad mountain was a near permanent layer of cloud. We were
literally above the clouds, just like in a plane, and about to descend the
2200m into Timbula.
56
Mama Sita was an old smuggling track into the highlands, and as such the
trail was carved into the Ridgeline, flowing through tunnels of dirt, rock, and
forest. The trail had been cleared for a downhill race a few weeks before
and was running perfect. The grade would be a hard grade four by Kiwi
standards. There was enough flow in amongst the frequent rock gardens,
but at 3000m it felt more like a hard grade 5. The trail dived below the
clouds halfway down and descended through a banana plantation for the
final 500 vertical metres. We popped out, right on dark, in the tiny town of
Timbula. A cervesa and a number of police greeted us.
Mateo explained that gold had recently been found just up the river.
The government had sold the rights to mine the gold to a large Chinese
company. As a result, the police were there not to protect the locals, but
to protect the Chinese workers. As we drove back up the dark dusty road
that night, we were stopped by about twenty locals who searched the car.
Quickly realizing we were a bunch of smelly mountain bikers who mostly
spoke Spanish, we were allowed to pass. It’s a shame that the country’s
people have little say in how natural resources are managed.
I left Ecuador blown away. There’s so much more to learn and experience
than any quick Google can reveal. We’re fortunate to have mountain bikes,
and the ability to explore, meet new people, and get a true insight into
the places they take us. Thank you to Ecuador’s friendly, welcoming, and
humble people, especially Mateo for going above and beyond to show me
the true highlights of his home country. Chur and De Nada Bro.
SPOKEMAGAZINE.COM
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 PE OPLE
MEANS OF PRODUCTION
A story of bespoke bikes bags and their place in the world
Words Tom Lynskey | Images Pat Shepherd
It was 5:19 pm on 27 March 1984 when Ernie Abbott, caretaker and hot-
blooded unionist, was blown to smithereens after he picked up a briefcase
left by a man in a suit on the ground floor of the Trades Hall in Wellington.
The bomb was sophisticated. It used a mercury switch to complete a circuit
between two electrodes and set off the equivalent of several sticks of gelig-
nite. It blew doors off their hinges and rendered facial recognition of no use
in poor Ernie’s case—they had to identify him by his tattoos, matched to old
photos. Thirty-five years on, the police haven’t closed his case, but they keep
a watchful eye on a person of interest who fits all the right criteria. Circum-
stantial evidence, as they say.
The Trades Hall, nestled into central Vivian Street, is a more sedate affair
these days. The unions have largely scarpered from the building, leaving be-
hind some poorly compiled displays, a couple of signboards, and an esoteric
production-line exhibit to champion its salad days. You can push a button
and listen as an angry old white man harangues you about maritime unions
or some such through a tinny speaker. It’s captivatingly stale.
In a small office upstairs, quietly and diligently, Mike Trudgen pieces
together custom bike bags for bikepackers, urban bohemians, and the
enduro elite alike.
When I first interviewed Mike a few years back, he’d annexed a corner of
the family home and was turning out custom frame bags on a fairly basic
little setup. It was a charming place, and the evening sun falling across the
harbour nearby was immensely pleasant, but the setup also felt a bit safe
and self-limiting. Hobbyish, I suppose. Nearly two years ago, Mike moved his
workshop into the city. Six months ago, he went full-time. And these days,
having spread its wings within the cold, hard unionist grotto on Vivian Street,
Stealth Bike Bags is a rather more intriguing beast.
Against the wall, Mike has a large array of off-the-shelf items—everything
you need to either persevere alone in the wilderness, or to reach for a sip of
your 440ml tin with ease. He now has four specialized machines handling
bar tacking, panelling, joining, and seaming. We moved around the workshop
as he spun up a stem pouch from nought. It struck me immediately how an-
alytical and fluid the approach was. Bits that didn’t look related were stitched
together and converted into new wholes, until it slowly took shape.
Elsewhere in the workshop, various exotic offerings bore showcase to his
particular skillset: a tiny black frame bag intended to stow a few essen-
tials in the foremost corner of an SB130 frame. A top loader bag (think a
sleeker version of those dorky tri-bags from the 90s) with magnetic mounts.
A set of wine holsters destined for some poor electric bike, soon to be
saddled by an eager wine tour participant with three sheets to the wind—
all sorts of odds and ends.
Mike was an auto sparky before branching out into this field. He comes
from a good stock of tradespeople and has clearly been taught some sound
methodological process along the way. I asked him why a person wouldn’t
just buy a cheap mass-produced frame bag: it straps in and it holds your
stuff, right? He said sure, if it does the job, go for it. But that line of thinking
involves compromise. It fits in the frame, but not within it. The materials are
poorer quality. The quality control is obviously lower, and defects are more
likely to sneak through. Generally, it’ll just need repair a lot sooner.
Mike was pragmatic about it, and recognised there was a target market for the
cheaper (if less ideal) product. Where he wouldn’t cut them any slack, however,
was in false marketing claims. He said the big brands can be fast and loose,
and by far the worst was the ‘waterproof’ tag. Very few things are truly water-
proof, he explained. A welded alloy tank? Sure. Anything with a zip? Unlikely.
We talked about the challenges he faced in getting Stealth off the ground.
The bike market is notoriously miserly, and no stranger to demanding a deal.
Mike doesn’t have the benefit of a long queue of cashed up enthusiasts will-
ing to sustain a fair hourly rate, and he can’t compete with the price breaks
that bigger companies offer. He might well offer a high-quality product, but
does peddling niche bags from the far reaches of the world really put bread
on the table?
Winter was better than expected, Mike replied, but yeah, it can be a
challenge. He’s still ironing out the viability of it, especially in the face of
fundamental supply hurdles. He recently resorted to Australia for some fabric
because of the long wait times and disinterest he encountered with the New
Zealand supplier. By the time it was delivered across the Tasman, he still
hadn’t heard back from the local. His stock of Cordura, the wonder fabric
of military origins, comes straight from the manufacturer overseas. When
he needed a roll of YKK branded zippers, it was a five-month process. New
Zealand offers one style of buckle, and it’s the kind you see on a boat cover,
not the kind you’d bet your comfort on in the outback.
All of this comes at great cost, as the shipping is often astronomical. He
ends up with large rolls of surplus fabric to cater for a handful of particular
jobs. Off-cuts are precious, and like a Slavic one-pot winter dinner, his exper-
iments are often hewn from the remnants of paid jobs.
I was left with the impression that logistics kind of interfered with what inspired
Mike down this path in the first place. If he was based in southern California,
for example, he would have easy access to well-stocked suppliers and enthusi-
astic distributors; less time poring over logistics and email chains surely means
more time for dreaming up new ideas, or product testing in the hills.
When I asked what he thought the future held, I was surprised he didn’t say
e-bikes. He’s not sure the battery range is there yet. Custom frame bags
still account for around half of his business, and he thinks the growth of
adventure events will see demand continue for a few years yet. He’s spun up
countless bags for Tour Aotearoa participants, as well as full setups for the
Silk Road race and the Iditarod. He also thinks more destination trails such
as the Old Ghost Road and the Pike29 track will spur demand for reliable
and tailored options for hauling your stuff.
It’s been interesting to watch Stealth grow from humble beginnings into its
incongruous enclave on the Trades Hall’s first floor. Although beset by clas-
sic small business woes, Mike’s regularly turning out innovative and clever
solutions to strapping things to your bike. If you want to look at solutions for
an upcoming adventure, or if you’re just in the mood for an inspiring pre-re-
corded tirade on wage negotiations, a visit to 124 Vivian Street should be on
your to-do list.
59
 PE OPLE
BEARERS OF THE GREEN WHISTLE
Help is never too far away in Whakarewarewa
Words & Images Nick Lambert
Rotorua’s First Response Unit (FRU) holds a vital role in the wellbeing of
riders in the Whakarewarewa Forest. This story is about those at the coal
face—the medical patrollers working in the forest. The patrollers are part of
Peak Safety’s team, with Mark ‘Budgie’ Woods, Henry Worsp, and Nick
Morrison heading up the crew.
With Peak Safety’s professional medics operating the service as often as
the budget allows, the medic-trained Mountain Bike Rotorua (MBR) staff
coordinate with the patrollers, working to cover any shortfalls. “We fill the
gaps,” says Tu Mutu. “Peak Safety are the people who train us, they’re
absolutely the experts in the field.” MBR staff are trained to PHEC (Pre
Hospital Emergency Care’) level.
“We contribute a service that sits in between, that covers some bases and
keeps the service running when Peak’s crew does not staff it.” When asked
about business cost implications of this, Tu says, “It’s a space that needs
occupying, and we feel a responsibility to the community to do that. It can
be hard on the team when a staff member has to down tools to help with an
injured rider, but our customers understand if we’re short-staffed because
we’re helping fellow riders.”
No snow bro.
The Rotorua FRU medical staff may be called patrollers, but there are more
differences than there are similarities with their skifield counterparts.
Skifields and commercial mountain bike parks (where charges apply for
access or lift passes) cover the costs of their patrols within the price of uplift
tickets. Rotorua’s trail network is a different scenario, with free public access
meaning the feasibility of providing a medical response service faces limits due
to funding—or lack thereof.
With more than half a million visitors to the forest each year, a medical
response service is essential. The FRU exists thanks to the determination of
key people and is sustained by trust and grant funding alongside individual
donations to the service.
Two sides of the coin.
It’s not uncommon to see the FRU’s ATV cruising around the forest, attending
to the fallen, and I’ve been unfortunate enough myself to have sampled their
services from the patient’s side. My medic patroller angel on the day was Zoe,
who made her way to my obscure location between trails and forestry roads
in thirty minutes. As well as her professional and reassuring assessment of
my situation, she bore the magical ‘green whistle.’ Not in fact a whistle at all,
but an inhaler-like delivery device for the painkilling drug Penthrox. Although
it tastes how I imagine a highlighter pen might, the drug knocked the edge off
my pain, taking it from a nine out of ten to a more manageable seven.
More recently, I wondered what it was like on the other side of the coin. To
that end, I arranged for a Saturday morning ride-along with Michelle, a patroller
with four years’ experience in the role, as well as six years as an ED nurse and
many more years in general nursing.
The first order of the day is completing her inspection of the ATV and medical
kit before heading out. Dubbed ‘the buggy’ by the Peak patrollers, the vehicle
is a Yamaha Viking with modifications to transport a backboard and all the
necessary medical supplies. Handling on the Viking has been upgraded by
way of a custom suspension kit, ensuring a smooth ride for patients.
A front-mounted bike rack carries a sponsored Giant e-bike at all times,
allowing quick access to locations the buggy can’t access. It also means that
at seasonal high times when there are two patrollers in the buggy, they can
cover huge ground. Peak Safety co-owner Budgie explains: “because two
things can happen at once, and we have a massive area to cover, having two
medics, the vehicle, as well as an electric bike is a pretty good scenario. The
e-bike means we can split up, cover a lot of ground, and get onto tracks to
be more effective.”
Once Michelle is satisfied with the setup and equipment, we head into the
forest. The steep, root-riddled access track behind Peak Safety’s HQ into the
forest is a wake-up call. Michelle humbly downplays it, but it turns out she has
some off-roading experience. Her chilled-out character and mountain bikers’
line choices make short work of the challenging trail.
Before the first calls for help start coming through, there are the routine tasks
to do, such as putting up banner flags at critical trail intersections, so riders
know the medical patrol is operating. Michelle also takes the opportunity to
walk up a trail and check a new feature that’s been claiming a few victims
recently. This proactive approach is part of the patroller’s mindset. When
speaking with Budgie, he’s quick to clarify their role is preventative as well.
“We’re not just the ambulance at the bottom of the cliff—we seek to reduce
accidents. One aspect is capture of information on every callout. Part of that is
identifying features relating to the accident that may be out of character with
the grade of the trail. That feedback is then forwarded to the Rotorua Trails
Trust for further action if trails need modification.”
Michelle often stops to chat with riders when the situation is appropriate,
giving out stickers to spread awareness of the 0800 WHAKA 1 emergency
phone number. Patrollers are also often out cutting back overgrowth on trail
sightlines, though they’re careful not to overstep their mandate and infringe on
the work each trail’s adoptees do.
As well as the PR and trail work in quiet times, it’s common to come across
other tasks outside the scope of the FRU’s core responsibilities. Lost riders
and walkers are frequent, so too are those with mechanical failures. Michelle
says if it’s quiet, and she can help with a mechanical, then she will. But it’s
not the patrollers’ job, and if it takes her away from more pressing core
responsibilities, she’ll say so.
Lost people are a lower priority than medical emergencies, but she helps them
as best she can too. There are a few tales to tell, including coming across a
campervan in the little-travelled back blocks of the forest, which the driver had
obliviously entered through an open forestry gate.
After the uneventful start to our morning, we go to the MBR HQ. Michelle
checks in with the rental fleet manager to find out if any large bookings
or school groups are coming in. It’s helpful to have a handle on when
and where large groups of rental-bike riders may be during the day. The
potential of having a callout to one is typically high due to the relative
inexperience of such riders.
There are no large groups booked in today, so we have time to hang out
waiting for that inevitable first call. I confess to Michelle that I feel like a ghoul,
hoping for some accidents today so we have something for the story. Nothing
serious of course!
Our conversation drifts to the logistics of getting between locations. I’m
particularly interested when Michelle talks about the trails on the far south
61
 PE OPLE ROTOR UA PATR OL

side of the forest: Kung Fu Walrus, Te Kotukutuku and Te Ahi Manawa.
There’s no way to get there that doesn’t involve around 15 to 25 minutes’
travel time, but it would be impractical to park up on that side of the forest,
as the majority of callouts are to the more heavily trafficked trails close to the
main trailheads and carparks.
Out conversation leads to reflection of the injuries Michelle sees. Shoulder
injuries and collarbone breaks are the most common. Occasionally there
are worse ones like femur breaks, and of course the ever-present risk of
spine and neck injuries. Michelle also stresses the need to be especially
cautious with head injuries due to their complexity, and potential long-
reaching serious consequences.
In this rare downtime for a patroller, we continue chatting and get onto the
serious matter of favourite tracks. Michelle’s go-to is Te Mounga—a solid
grade 4 offering a variety of styles within its length. As we chat, the extent
and accuracy of Michelle’s local area knowledge is clear. I pride myself on my
knowledge of where all kinds of trails are, from the obscure to the unofficial
(cough) variety, and Michelle knows precisely where I’m talking about
throughout the conversation, including no-exit forestry skid roads with no
direct relationship to the mountain bike trails. I only know about them because
I’ve ridden up them like the nosey bastard I am. Michelle has been up them
too, but from a professional standpoint, increasing her spatial knowledge of
the maze of trails and roads in the forest. This is a notable feature of Peak
and MBR’s staff: their geographical knowledge has real-world benefits.
They’re all passionate mountain bikers, so they each know the forest like the
back of their own hand. When a call comes in from a panicked or stressed
patient, his knowledge helps in figuring out where they are and the most
effective way to reach them.
Lost and Broken
Then it happens: the first ‘customer’ of the day. A worried dad runs up to us.
His four-year-old son, Mason, has been lost for twenty minutes on the Kids’
Trail loop. With his other young kids in tow, he’s run around the trail calling for
Mason with no luck.
Michelle gets a description of the boy, and the man’s contact. She tells him
we’ll do one lap of the surrounding roads and then, because of the time
elapsed and Mason’s age, call in the police. Although the Kids’ loop is close
to the main carpark, there are ponds and a stream around the trail, so there’s
potential for tragedy with such a young rider.
This is not what I’d had in mind when I’d been ‘hoping’ for an incident!
As we head off from MBR, a call comes over the radio. A shuttle driver has a
rider from his charter group with a shoulder injury he thinks is a dislocation.
The rider is on the other side of the forest. It’s now that I see the calm, relaxed
Michelle I was casually chatting with minutes before flipping a switch. She
becomes the consummate scene manager; a razor-sharp thinking, shot-calling,
no-nonsense professional. “The injured shoulder can wait,” she says. “The
priority is the missing kid. We’ll do one pass of the possible areas he could be,
if we don’t find him then we call the police and get them in. Only then do we
go to the shoulder injury.”
Fortunately, it’s over almost as soon as it begins. Mere minutes into our search
we meet a parent and a bunch of young teens riding back to the carpark. A
young rider matching Mason’s description is rolling along with them—they
found him on the trails and are bringing back to safety. Mason seems happy
enough to have finished his ride with a new crew of riding buddies and his dad
is understandably relieved when Michelle calls him with the good news.

SPOKEMAGAZINE.COM
62
One down, one to go. We’re off to the rider with the injured shoulder, a solid
15 to 20 minutes away.
The speed limit for vehicles in the forest is 30km/h, and we don’t muck around
with anything less on the way to our patient. Until, that is, we get behind a
couple of riders who don’t care to pull over for a few seconds to let us pass.
They must be able to hear us; Michelle and I are practically shouting at each
other to be heard over the sound of the buggy. However, she doesn’t want
to cause an accident (one patient at a time is quite enough) so won’t pass
them till it’s safe to do so. I feel these plonkers deserve at least a blast on
the horn, maybe even a high speed pass to let them know the world doesn’t
operate solely for their pleasure. I imagine that would be a limiting factor on my
application for MTB patroller.
Eventually, we pass them and arrive at our injured rider’s location. He’s alone!
The driver and his mates have left him there, on the side of the trail with a
suspected dislocated shoulder, and continued riding. Michelle doesn’t say
much, but I can tell she’s less than impressed with this guy’s so-called mates.
His name is Simon. He’s crashed halfway down a trail and, amazingly,
ridden out the rest. This makes Michelle think it’s not a dislocation as that
would be too painful to do. A quick check confirms it’s more likely a broken
collarbone—excruciating, nonetheless.
Simon puts on a brave face and appears most worried about getting his riding
buddies’ car keys to them. I think he should make those dicks come to the ED
to see him before they can get their keys back. That’s probably strike two on
my patroller application form.
Once she’s made Simon as comfortable as possible in the buggy, Michelle
gently drives to the nearest forest exit where an ambulance will collect him.
Every bump makes him turn a shade whiter, and Michelle does her best to
ease the pain. Empathy for patients’ pain is a considerable part of this job, as
is managing that pain while delivering the patient smoothly and efficiently to
the next level of care.
Once Simon is off-loaded and we’re heading back to base, another callout
comes in. I’m just ballast at this stage in what’s shaping up to be a hectic day
for Michelle, so I jump out to walk back to Peak’s HQ and leave Michelle to
do her thing.
Now I’ve seen both sides of the FRU service—from customer to service
provider. All I can say is a heartfelt thank you; to the patrollers doing their
best to look after us riders; to the administrators, sponsors and individual
donors making it a reality; and to the visionary people who built it from
scratch when nothing existed. Although I won’t be taking any risks above my
pay grade, (my shoulder still aches when a change in weather is coming),
I rest easy that we have an incredibly capable safety net in place on the
busiest trail network in New Zealand.
___
For riders visiting the Rotorua trail network, 0800 WHAKA 1 is the direct
number to call if a rider needs assistance. That will put you directly in touch
with the FRU Patroller working that day. If it’s obvious that the injury is severe,
call 111 first before calling the FRU. The FRU and St. John’s Ambulance liaise
closely; the combination of their services is optimised when an ambulance is
needed by calling 111 first.
Donate to the service. The mountain bike club’s website has a dedicated
donation page at www.mtbclub.org.nz. It’s a registered charity, so your donation
is tax-deductible.
If you’re involved with a business and would like to sponsor the service, there
are several tiers of sponsorship. Contact the Rotorua mountain bike club
through their website to enquire.
63
 PE OPLE
FINLAY WOODS
A young bike designer making some noise
Words Finlay Woods | Images Andy Woods
SPOKE sat down with Finlay Woods recently to find more about his latest
project, Sherpa Cycles. A high pivot, gearbox trail bike with a carefully con-
sidered aesthetic.
What’s your background and how did you get into bikes?
I grew up just out of Wanaka and spent every second I could in the outdoors
or in the shed. We were lucky enough to have a bit of land so my brother and
I, plus all our mates, would spend our days building bike jumps. Dad would
help us build ramps and seesaws. It started where we could only just jump
over each other but got to the point where we’d hire a digger for a couple
of days to push up some decent booters. Between this and watching every
New World Disorder movie on repeat I got pretty into it.
What inspired you to build a bike of your own?
I studied industrial design in Wellington and for our final year project we
could choose what we wanted to design. I had a few ideas but designing my
own bike was always something I thought would be epic to do. On a bike trip
at the beginning of the course I went to get my bike off the truck and found
the crappy derailleur had once again snapped its cable. All my life I’ve had
issues with derailleurs. So many rides have been ruined by snapped hangers,
bent cages, broken cables or any of the other problems that come with those
bloody things. I’d heard of gearboxes but knew little about them. It made me
wonder why derailleurs were the dominant means to shift gears on a bike
and what alternatives there were.
I spent the first half-year research component of the course studying this and
managed to boil it down to a few key reasons: lack of consumer knowledge
around gearboxes, most gearbox bikes were poorly designed or too bespoke
and aren’t competitive with top-end derailleur driven bikes, and because
gearbox technology hasn’t been developed as much as derailleurs. Although
not all solvable in a design project, this defined the brief for the bike.
Run us through the process. Where do you start?
I knew I wanted a gearbox equipped enduro bike that would represent what
future enduro bikes could be, and compete with the derailleur-driven market
in terms of design. I wanted something that could tackle any kind of terrain
and inspire confidence. This gave me a basis for geometry and suspension
type and layout. I plugged this into specialised software to develop the pivot
locations. Everything is relative to everything else. Everything is a compromise.
Once the points are identified in 2D you can begin sketching and designing
the side profile. From there I made scale foam and MDF models to develop
the form, then drew the bike on CAD. This was the most time-consuming
process; every millimetre has to be calculated and specified. I finished uni
with a CAD concept of the bike which was enough for some decent grades,
but I wanted something I could ride. I spent the next year refining the CAD
model and figuring out how to make this thing rideable. I went through so
many ideas like wrapping a foam mandrel in carbon myself, or getting it
machined in aluminium halves, like Pole bikes now do. I visited many carbon
fibre specialists and manufacturers in New Zealand—all were of zero help.
I eventually found a UK company that specialised in one-off carbon moun-
tain bikes. After much discussion I trusted them, paid my money, and sent
my design away. The frame turned up a few months late and wasn’t rideable,
which was pretty gutting. I wrote back to the guy and he apologised, said
he rushed it and would make a new one. I sent everything back and nine
months later a new one turned up, marginally better. None of the pivots lined
up, everything was deformed, and the pivot inserts seemed to have been
glued in with grease and pulled out by hand. Thankfully I was at Zerode by
this time and with the help of Rob we got the bike rideable.
The manufacturing was such a let-down. I’d thought this part was best left
to the experts, but I think in the time it took them, I could have taught myself
and ended up with a better result.
What made you choose the final design?
There was so much thought put into the bike and countless decisions made,
but I guess the gearbox is a good place to start. The effect it has on your
suspension is such an improvement. You can push harder because there’s
nothing flapping around on the back wheel, they’re so nice and quiet. There
are some disadvantages, just like a derailleur, but there are fewer disadvan-
tages with a gearbox and massive potential for the technology to improve
and surpass derailleurs. There are smaller, lesser known advantages such as
wide hub flange spacing—much more than any dished hub—so you can build
stronger wheels. It also gives you a lot of freedom with frame design and
chain setup, which brings us to the high pivot suspension.
The gap between the enduro and downhill bike is constantly closing, and if
this bike was going to be ahead of the now I knew it needed downhill-in-
fluenced suspension. During the research part I studied suspension theory
and you quickly learn the benefits for maintaining speed and increasing rider
confidence that high pivot suspension and rearward axle path has. Back then
there were only a few production DH bikes with high pivot suspension; it’s
since become more popular and even a few enduro bikes have popped up
with it. I like to call my suspension the not-so-high high pivot. If the pivot is
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 PE OPLE FI N LAY WOO DS
too high and axle path too drastic, the bike can feel sluggish, so I designed
the pivot in a happy medium, where you still get a rearward axle path but the
bike retains some pop and playfulness.
The linkage is located where it is for a clean aesthetic and to keep the
weight low and central. It also allows heaps of room for water bottles, bags,
etc in the frame.
The bike has decent ramp-up and employs a split pivot linkage system,
which means the seatstays and chainstays pivot concentrically with the rear
axle. This let me place the brake on the chainstay to separate the braking
force from the compression force, similar to what a Horst link does. It just
means the suspension doesn’t compress under braking. I’ve found this can
be both good and bad.
The concept at uni had adjustable geometry, but this was way too complex
to make a reality. There’s lots of little design things I’m happy with such as
the brake caliper tucked away out of sight.
Why did you choose carbon?
The main reason was the ability to completely customize the form. There
are more limitations for design with the use of aluminium, but the next bike I
design I’d like to do in aluminium.
How did you settle on angles and sizing?
I made spreadsheets of different bikes. I wanted my bike to be a downhill en-
duro bike, so I went for numbers in between the two categories. I think a lot
66
of production bikes are now hitting this. Because of the rearward axle path
and wheelbase growth under compression I wanted to keep the chainstays
short to keep a playful element. The biggest myth I’ve found is that bigger is
better. There’s a definite sweet spot but so many riders these days go for a
bike that is way too big for them and can’t manage it.
How does it ride?
The bike has been a bit of a tease. I’ve ridden it a few times but it’s far from
perfect. I can feel the potential of how good it could be if it was made by a
proper manufacturer. It pedals well and you can feel the high pivot make easy
work of bumps, but there was a lot of sideways flex so I had to get a plate
welded to the linkage and add some more carbon to the seatstays. Because
the frame was so deformed when it was made, the head angle ended up a lot
steeper than what I’d designed. I recently got an angle set to slacken it out, but
when pressing this in it cracked the frame down the centre join line, something
that wouldn’t happen on a production bike. I’ve now got to fix this, along with
tolerance issues in some of the hardware, and rebond some inserts before I
can ride it again.
Any plans for future bikes?
Not at this stage. Knowing now how long it takes, it’s hard to justify, however I
do have a couple of designs in my head for making a bike as simple as it can
be. That may happen one day. We have exciting things in the works at Zerode
though, so stay tuned!
How did the job at Zerode come about?
SPOKEMAGAZINE.COM
During the project at uni I reached out to Rob several times and he was very
helpful. I kept bugging him after I finished and eventually he needed some help.
He’s been at the forefront of developing bikes in New Zealand for a fair few
years now. What’s it like working alongside Rob?
Working at Zerode and alongside Rob is great. There’s never any stress, his
place by the lake is nice, and we manage to sneak in a few rides, even some
lunchtime moto rides. It’s great working with someone who’s been in the
industry for so long, and isn’t interested in marketing crap but wants to make
a product that’s genuinely different and better. It’s interesting to see that it’s
not just a job but a way of life to be an innovator. He’s always questioning
everything and usually ends up with a unique and practical solution to everyday
things. Recently he ripped out his old fireplace and made his own rocket stove.
It heats up his place a whole lot more efficiently.
Where do you see the future of bike design? Have we reached the limits yet?
I think environmental consideration needs to be the next hot topic for the
mountain biking community. It’s based in the outdoors and we have to
protect it. I hope companies will not only improve what they’re doing but also
give back—think of the likes of Patagonia.
There are exciting opportunities with bringing manufacturing closer to the
end user, such as the ability to make Poles bike in any CNC shop, and with
advances in additive manufacturing there’s potential to be able to ‘download’
a bike. It’s a long way off but will be interesting to see what happens.
In terms of actual bike design I think everything is going to move internally
(including gears) and hopefully be simplified. I hope I there’ll always be a
high performing bike you never have to charge, but the integration of elec-
tronics is going to be, and has already become, more pervasive. E-bikes are
going to become more dominant and widespread, but I think there’ll still be
room for the analogue beast.
No matter what new tech comes, I hope people begin to realise that a new
bike isn’t going to make them a better rider. This has become so much more
apparent to me throughout this process, that no matter what you do with
design, it all comes down to the rider. Sometimes riding an inferior bike is
what will make you a better rider.
Any last requests?
Massive thanks to Rob from Zerode, Al, Mike, Alex and Sam from Blue
Shark, Nick from Bike Therapy and of course Mum and Dad for all the
support through the project. Please check out @sherpacycles on Instagram
for more info on the bike.
This interview has been edited for brevity and clarity.
67
 EVE NTS
SEVEN DAYS OF SWEET SUFFERING
From the Mediterranean to the Atlantic by the Pyrenees
Words Meg Bichard & Weston Hill | Images FotoesportBCN
Transpyr is a seven-day mountain bike stage race traversing the entire Span-
ish Pyrenees mountain range. From the sunbathing beauties of the Costa
Brava coast, the race crosses 800 kilometres of peaks and valleys to the
Basque town of Hondarribia at the Atlantic. Now in its 10th year, Transpyr
promised adventure and threw everything but the kitchen sink at us—to the
finish line and slightly beyond.
“Do you enjoy it? I mean, do you actually enjoy it?” Warrick asked with all the
inquisition his weary mind could muster. Almost halfway into the race, the Brit
was beginning to feel the strain from big back-to-back days in the saddle.
Before we could reply, he continued, “I’ve put so much time in trainin’ and
getting ready for this, ya know. I’ve missed some really fantastic family time,
some great weekends. But I just don’t know. Enjoy it? It’s just so bloody brutal.
My wife’ll say, ‘how was it, worth it?’ And I’ll say… ‘yeah, bloody brilliant!’”
Warrick’s conundrum was one many of the hundreds of riders battled with
throughout the week of riding—a fight between the pain in the present and the
reward of completion in the future, a contradiction to the cliched importance
of the journey over the destination. It’s a sentiment reinforced by fatigue, injury,
and adverse weather, but it’s also temporary, just one of the many fleeting
thoughts bobbing for airtime through the highs and lows of such an adventure.
The day following the race, Warrick would approach us again, retrospectively
overlooking the pain and suffering of the race and deservedly rapt with his
achievement. He was already planning his next adventure: “I think something
like a continuous three hundred kilometres around Tenerife...” he begins. The
dark circles around his eyes and a slight stiffness in his gait were evidence
of the previous week’s punishing. However, there was a glint in his eye and a
dream-bank filling with coins.
Humans are by nature adventurous creatures, the kind who want to stick their
fingers in sockets as toddlers, cross seas, climb mountains, and see how many
hotdogs they can consume. To some, ogling at a beautiful Costa Brava beach
is a great adventure in itself. But to a growing number of us, rubbing ourselves
raw racing and enduring hundreds of kilometres on a bike saddle is absolutely
corking—sometimes in the moment, other times after the fact. We are willing
to pour blood, sweat, and tears into chasing an adventure.
Just a week previously we were surrounded by these types of people at the
start line. The kind who will pledge blood, sweat, and beers for a crack at
pedalling across the Pyrenees.
———————
Two hours north of Barcelona, our Transpyr adventure began on the pier in
the Catalan town of Roses. It appeared a long way to the hills on the horizon,
never mind to the Atlantic. However, seven days of racing bikes and exploring
mountains isn’t a bad way to spend a week. We had a relaxed start along the
beach and before long riders formed chain gangs, sucking and spewing dust
from the dry farm tracks. We kept our pace relaxed to save energy for the first
timed section, some 70km into the first day.
The race followed an enduro style format; each day there are one or two timed
stages, with liaison sections in between. Strategy and pacing were critical to
be efficient: you must stay in front of realistic cutoffs but save matches for
race stages. Less time spent out in the elements riding gave you an upper
hand for snagging a hotly-contested sleeping spot on the various gym floors.
Bike wash, maintenance, restocking nutrition, and recovery all need to be
ticked off before dinner, briefing, and finally bed. For many, surviving each day
and enjoying the trails was rowdy enough without worrying about race times.
Our first timed stage was a good old-fashioned blowout. After the dust and
heat of the plains, putting it out there up to the steep ascent and undulating
timed section was tough. We managed to finish within 25 seconds of the lead
mixed team and had a humorous ride home when Meggie’s heart rate monitor
had her palpitating at rest. Meg’s panic that she may have overdone it was a
hypochondriac’s wet dream, funny only when we realised it was the sensor.
Close racing is hard racing, and it couldn’t get any closer than edging for the
win on day two by a lonely second. The day had begun with a timed stage
from the gun and included many surprises: a herd of cows on course, a sheep
track hike-a-bike, and one of the best grin-inducing descents of the week.
Rain fell near the end of the stage and we hoped to have missed the worst of
the weather. Little did we know the next day would be a whole different story.
Snow, sleet, and cold rain battered us on the 2000m-plus climb to the pass of
day three. We’d been looking forward to the downhill-dominated stage from
the saddle until the timing was cancelled due to the excess liquid sunshine.
Damp liaison riding was a cold substitute during the 60km to the mostly uphill
second timed stage of the day—a good dose of retrospective fun. We pushed
harder than a maternity ward and managed to squeeze out an overall lead. The
weather again turned for the worse for the final five kilometres back to town.
A fitting day of suffering to enrich the adventure. Warrick would be pleased.
In a race of such vast point to point distances, the route, including timed
stages, must be navigated from GPS with preloaded tracks. We were initially
69
 EVE NTS TRANSPYR
apprehensive about the faff factor but as the days wore on and the system
became familiar, we found it to be efficient and easy—with only the odd
whoopsie and dodgy glance down.
Host to a couple of Enduro World Series rounds, the trails of the walled city
of Ainsa promised a lot and coughed up the goods. We’d been climbing
solidly but knew the descents were where we would really make our money.
With the bit hard between our teeth, we ground out the 950m climb then
bombed the down, showing little deference to the top men’s teams; some
riders were rather wide-eyed at being dropped by a mixed team. We set the
sixth fastest time of any team for the stage and had passed the halfway
point of the race.
Riding North towards Jaca the following day, we were treated to an equally
sublime descent, and as usual, had to work for it with a 1000m climb in the
timed stage. The terrain of the Trans-Pyrenees varies dramatically from one
day to the next, from alpine meadows and snowy peaks to arid plateaus,
wheat fields, limestone canyons, and lush evergreen forests. The stage into
Jaca was a classic case: rock slabs transitioned into wooded switchbacks,
then down into undulating shale and grey earth. We relished the medley of
trails and managed to extend our lead.
The penultimate day was the longest of the race—132km and 3000m of
vertical. These were statistics neither of us had hit in training. We’d been
curious about how we would handle such long consecutive stages, a typical
70
sticking point for many riders considering partaking in a race this long. How-
ever, the body is hugely resilient and for many, the transition to eat, sleep,
and ride is surprisingly straightforward. Many of the riders found their bodies
becoming accustomed to the lengthy saddle time and addicted to the daily
grind. For those of us really pushing the biscuit, the timed stages remained
brutal throughout—we had to push near 100%.
Two tough timed segments featured in the longest day. The first evolved
into an impromptu and frantic run/carry/drag-a-bike as a deluge drenched
the steep singletrack, transforming it into slick slime. The second delivered a
deceptive 850m gravel grind, serving up sufficient pain in the illusion it may
never end. We were thankful to be treated to a cabin with a bed instead of a
gym hall floor for the night.
The lush green of the Navarre region goes hand-in-hand with the mist and
moisture drawing up from the depths of the Atlantic. The saltwater scent
of the finish was a classic red herring; we had one last timed section to
get through, and we’d have to fight for it. Mid timed segment: crrraack,
dizzzzrrsshtt! A derailleur snagged and the hanger snapped in two, locking
the wheel and stopping us in our tracks. There was nothing cool about our
cucumbers, and like meat axes, we butchered the situation. We pulled and
clawed at the derailleur, an Allen key overlooked. Frazzled, we decide trying
to replace the broken hanger and use the dodgy derailleur was risky. It’s
always easier pulling things to bits in panic than putting them together. We
broke the chain, duct-taped the derailleur and ran. We were frantic as our
SPOKEMAGAZINE.COM
previous lead was likely being chewed to bits and we assumed it wasn’t far exhausted and disbelieving on the bustling portside on Hondarribia.
to the end now. Surely?
Incredibly, we still eked out the stage win and were delighted to also take
We pushed and towed where possible, but the trail was cruelly narrow and the win overall. But the race wasn’t done with us yet: minutes after the
undulating. We reasoned that we’d done the up, where was the bloody podium, Meg rushed to the toilet looking grey. By midnight we were at the
down? It’s incredibly hard work towing with no pedal assistance, and luckily hospital with Meg drinking IV fluids like a pro; diagnosed with a stomach bug
being fairly confident on our feet we managed to hold our own on steeper and heat exhaustion. The race had taken its pound of flesh—we could indeed
sections of the climb and ‘scoot’ transition to the descents. The relentless tell Warrick how much we enjoyed the race, however, the fun would be felt
stage would not lie down and we were regretting our decision not to chance retrospectively, long after IV fluid had dissipated from the veins.
it and fit a new hanger. The derailleur and long gear cable broke free from
————————————————
the tape job and more time was lost jamming it beneath the saddle bag. It
was a classic stage racing moment—charging down descents, perilously off Transpyr is a full-on mountain bike adventure serving up a biscuit box of
the brakes, derailleur wagging, hooting, scooting, and cursing our way across trails, conditions, and landscapes for all tastes. The distance alone is a tasty
the timing station. The thought of losing in the final stage and recounting the challenge: add to that the spice and strategy of timed race sections, humon-
‘what ifs’ put a slight dampener on the afternoon despite the sunshine and gous helpings of days in the mountains, and you’ll be drooling. Possibly not
the sight of the sea. salivating for more saddle time, perhaps even begging to stop, but either
way, satiated from the phenomenal experience.
We took stock, replaced the hanger and retrofitted the chain and derailleur
to get us home, until the obvious happened and the now well-weathered
derailleur caught and disintegrated with over 40km to go. We were now
dicing with time cutoffs if we couldn’t get it rideable. How fast could we
run? We converted the bike to singlespeed and tried to ride on but the chain
bounced mercilessly, jumping and jamming between gears. Back to running
and scooting, we finally made it down towards the coast and found that the
chain could handle gentle pedal pressure for the last 20km of flat. We arrive

71
It’s 4am and I’m wide awake in a rudely uncomfortable chair, wedged
between the animated snoring of an older bloke from the isolated tip of
the Coromandel and the relentless armrest of the middle aisle. But despite
the intricacies of my current position, I’m content. These are the least of
my worries, because at the end of this leg I will be in the Land of Maple
Syrup—the home of the Chainsaw Massacre, Stevie Smith, and my home
for the next 10 days—all in the name of riding bikes. It’s a place that has
sat long, hard and not so patiently on my bucket list, as I imagine it has
for a lot of mountain bikers. Canada is a curious place. On the surface it’s
a beautiful melting pot of rivers and mountains, streams and bears, but
as a neighbour to the behemoth of the US, it naturally inherits many of its
traits. Cars are big, roads are big, food is big, bears are big—but that’s half
the charm. The contrast between the polluting, life-sucking cities and the
pristine backcountry is stark. From the airport, the harsh Vancouver skyline
is draped in the soft green hills of the North Shore. Nature is sneaking in at
every possible turn. Even the city streets are lined with rows and rows of
trees.
Working for a magazine certainly has its perks; on this occasion the
destination was Squamish and Whistler, to ride the new Santa Cruz
Hightower and Tallboy through a tour of the most eye-opening terrain I’ve
ever come across. It’s a thoroughly bizarre experience travelling halfway
across the world to ride someone else’s bikes for a couple days. Living,
eating, and riding in a realm totally outside your comfort zone—or maybe it’s
totally within your comfort zone, but so foreign it feels terribly tentative.
Squamish is a weird little town. A small industrial place, found at the end
of large cove and built up from the huge forestry industry around it, it isn’t
a spot you would pass through and instantly write home about. The grey
shades visible from the highway blend into one and the buildings perch
awkwardly in their surroundings, but this façade hides many small gems. Do
yourself a favour and glance up, because all around you are the Douglas
fir-lined hills of your dreams. Deep within these forests lie tracks that have
graced countless magazine spreads and video edits, and that dark loamy
soil we all long for. For many, this quiet, humble town is the perfect place to
post up. With the bustling Whistler just 45 minutes up the road, Vancouver an
hour the other way, and access to hundreds and hundreds of kilometres of
singletrack at your doorstep, I can see why.
But first up for me was Whistler: the reason for the rise of the bike park, and
the most iconic destination in mountain biking. Finally I could answer yes to
all the “Hey bro, you ever been to Whistler? It’s so sick, you gotta do it man”
questions that get thrown around. I had a date with A-Line and I wasn’t
going to keep her waiting. For as long as I can remember that’s seemed the
benchmark for all other tracks. A beeline straight to A-Line had me smiling
like a Cheshire cat. In a few words, A-Line is the dogs bollocks. Yes, it’s bike
parky and a little busy, but the sheer novelty factor and the one jump they
call the moonbooter make it a must do, and good for at least a dozen laps
in a row.
However, don’t be fooled by A-Line’s smooth flow. Whistler holds a whole
host of wild tracks in its repertoire, and just when you think you’re coming
to grips with arm pump, you try the top lift and enter the Garbanzo zone.
This place will rip your hands to shreds and spit out your forearms in a
squishy pulp. Not only is it incredibly long, it’s brutal. A host to 20 minutes of
bike-punishing rock and roots, with tracks such as In Deep and Original Sin
enduring some recent EWS action, this place is no joke. With the lifts open
until 8pm there’s plenty of time for you to destroy a bike, or yourself, in a
matter of days. A lot has to be said for the bike that was underneath me, the
hot Santa Cruz V10 29er. Good god, a set of 29” wheels strapped to a curvy
rig can go like a flogged jandal.
After a couple of days knocking around the park, abusing my arms to within
an inch of their life, it was time to get aboard part one of the main event—
The Santa Cruz Hightower—for some hot laps in Squamish. Fresh off a
New Zealand winter, I wasn’t quite ready for how hot the laps were. Thirty
kilometres on a 25 degree day, with a subtle 1100m of vert sure got the boy
going. Santa Cruz really knocked it out of the park with this new 150mm
29er of theirs. It’s not a wild Keith Richards shouting at the top of his lungs;
it’s more subdued than that, like a friendly mate down the road, but with a
knife and gun in his shed perhaps. Nothing is over the top; the geometry is
welcome and familiar, which translates directly into its well-mannered riding
behaviour. It also goes like a scalded cat on a summer day. It makes you
want to ride, plain and simple.
Lucky I was so comfortable, because my resting sphincter was soon to be
puckered beyond belief. Squamish is notorious for its rock faces. Apparently
the granite is pleasant to brake on, so the locals say. Being unaccustomed
to riding down large sections of rock, staring down the barrel of a 75m,
45-degree slab had me so far off the back I thought I was going to leave
a burn shaped like a Minion on my nether regions. The places the track
builders have put lines is mind blowing. They wind their devilish path this way
and that over every slab you can lay your eyes on, frequently dotted with your
favourite loamy turn to root drop. Squamish has a thriving riding community.
The trailhead is a friendly and bustling zone with no shortage of tech chat,
and the trail network is wide and varied to match. You could spend days out
here without touching the same track twice. The riders in Squamish mean
business, and the level of riding epitomises this. A huge thanks to Seb and
Josh for breaking me in to the Squamish rock, and opening my mind to what
you can ride down; it’s amazing what you just point your wheels down when
following someone. Next time you’re there, grab yourself a local and get
them to point you in a nice direction, because the gems are often the most
overlooked. Whister/Blackcomb comprises two different mountains. Whistler
is the home of the bike park, but its twin across the valley packs a different
punch—it’s accessed via your legs. A good hour pedal has you at the top,
ready to drop into twelve minutes of pure joy—the kind where you ghost your
bike into the bushes and high-five everyone in a two mile radius shouting
“that was the f*@#ing sickest track I’ve ever ridden!” An hour climb really is
not that bad, especially on the Hightower, nimble goat that it is.
At the top is local icon Dark Crystal. In the week leading up to this ride,
numerous locals had pointed me in the direction of this legendary trail in
the hope it would open in time for me to get a run down what everyone
describes as the best track in town. I was primed for it. Surely it’s not that
good, as everyone exaggerates in the mountain bike world. Boy was I wrong.
It literally had everything, starting with steep rock slabs, followed by rooty
tech, which led into some slightly faster loam, before the bottom section that
just stretched out before you with endless bumps and roots to double. We
spent a couple of hours shooting photos higher up the track, so when the
call came that we were done and “Enjoy the rest of it, aye boys”, we didn’t
hold back. Rallying down that long expanse of natural rhythm, with what
sounds like a rabid hound on your heels, makes the hairs on your neck stand
on end. This is mountain biking, and this moment is what we all look for. Dark
Crystal, you will always have a part of me.
Whistler itself is an unusual place. Built to host the thousands of tourists that
scour the village every day, it gives off a Disneyland feel, with huge hotels
dominating the skyline, and waiters bustling around the ground scrounging
up any tip they can. It has an esoteric charm, but at the same time you can’t
help but feel lost in the sheer magnitude of it.
Tucked away in the dark hills surrounding Whistler are the homes hosting
the hordes of reckless seasonaires that call the village home during these
summer months. Each night they pour out of their abodes to run amok on
the town before retreating until the sun rises high in the sky. With the drawn
out summer evenings, Whistler manufactures its own time zone. The days
seem to shift forward a few hours with many rising late in the morning and
staying up long into the night. Perhaps it’s the perpetual hangover that
lingers over the town?
To go somewhere you’ve always wanted to ride, and actually live out that
experience, really is worth noting. Whistler and Squamish were that for me,
somewhere I had for so long aspired to visit, and now look back fondly with
memories of rocks, sore arms, and good beer.
I can’t thank Seb Kemp and the rest of the team at Santa Cruz enough
for making this happen, and for allowing my wild legs aboard their bikes.
Welcoming me into their local town, the proudness and joy they found in
showing a stranger their favourite trails and preferred eateries was palpable.
A new place is that much better through the eyes of a local, the town opens
itself up and greets you like a nice hug. It feels more homely and welcoming
and the experiences are all the richer because of it. So next time you find
yourself in Canada look for Dark Crystal. I’d recommend giving poutine a go
while you’re at it too. And always finish a long hot ride with an ice-cold root
beer. You’ll thank me.
 KEEP IN MIND THAT ROB’S
PHILOSOPHY IS CATEGORICALLY
TO IMPROVE BIKE PERFORMANCE,
NOT DESIGNING SOMETHING
DIFFERENT FOR THE SAKE OF IT

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We caught up with brand founder Rob Metz
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story of Zerode.
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downhill with him during the early days of the
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intriguing character, with a lot of projects and
passions on the go at any one time. His riding
skills are next level, the epitome of smoothness,
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lines. That ability, combined with his engineering
talent and creative mentality, ultimately led to the
ambitious goal of creating the Zerode brand and
bringing production bikes to market.
All the Zerode models are designed and built with
Pinion gearboxes at the heart of their identity, and
the Katipo is no exception.
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in line with current trends for trail bikes, for the
good reasons those characteristics offer. Within
the Katipo lineup are two variations: the 140mm
travel Trail model and the 160mm travel Enduro
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longer-legged Enduro partnered with 160mm or
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belief is that if riders need a smaller bike than
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open to the possibility of offering a smaller size
Katipo frame further down the track.
The sweeping similarities to other quality trail
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multiple facets to a centrally-mounted, enclosed
gearing system. One of the immediately obvious
ride characteristics is instantaneous shifting.
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pedalling backwards, spin that grip shifter through
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gear you selected, ready to go.
ending in a split second of crunching carnage as a
derailleur inverts itself and tries to take some drive
side spokes with it in its blazing self-destruction.
A less striking but still noteworthy aspect is that
the gearbox setup means using a singlespeed rear
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than Boost, and results in symmetrical spoke
angles for ultra-solid wheel builds.
Another key fact about the Pinion gearbox is its
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gigantic global brands are currently marketing
a 500% range as groundbreaking, which goes
some way towards illustrating the forward-think-
ing nature of Pinion and its use on Zerode bikes.
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GHVLJQÖVæH[LELOLW\WRLPSURYHVXVSHQVLRQRYHUGH-
railleur-equipped bikes. Although slightly heavier
than a comparable derailleur system (by about
500g), the lack of cassette and derailleur means
less unsprung weight, which in turn results in
more effective suspension characteristics.
When I asked about deciding to run with a single
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his eyes, but did kind of hunker down ready to
impart some engineering principles. Essentially,
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ed (but incorrect) trope that there is an inherent
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suggests studying the wealth of engineering
history in the motorcycle industry: engineers
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suspension platforms with budgets and a pool
of talent that makes the mountain bike industry
look like a Girl Guides biscuit sale next to a
Michelin Star restaurant.
This leads our conversation into another bur-
geoning suspension/drivetrain design: that of the
high pivot chainline. Rob has tested prototypes,
and run high pivot bikes as his personal rides for
a long time, way before they started to gain the
Rob feels prevent it from being a current market-
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Because the design needs an idler jockey
wheel of some type, there is added chain noise,
and relatively fast wear on the idler and chain
compared to a conventional chainline. A possible
way to mitigate that is a large idler, rather than a
jockey wheel sized one. But there will be market
resistance to high pivot regardless, and far more
if it has a funky looking chainring-sized idler as
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different designs unattractive, regardless of the
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to be considering bikes in the Zerode range will
have been bombarded with images and impres-
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their time riding bikes.
Never one to abide by the status quo, Rob hints at
a concept around improving the performance of
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be too surprised to see a future Zerode model
with a design that is revolutionary on a produc-
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categorically to improve bike performance, not
designing something different for the sake of it
or to generate sales. A shining example of this is
the decision to offer the 29er Katipo exclusively
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to the rider. The performance-oriented ethos also
clearly does not seek to ride on the coattails of
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ahead of that curve.
At this stage in our conversation we veer away
from bikes for a time, and onto the foil board he
made himself (obviously) that he uses for both
IN 1999 WHEN HE TOOK A
SUSPENSION POST AND MADE A
DROPPER WITH A HANDLEBAR REMOTE
— UNCONVENTIONAL AT THE TIME,
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ble of producing as many variants as he chooses,
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scenario, but one versatile enough to pull double
duty in different disciplines. With many years
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understanding of aerodynamics transfers across
to similar principles in hydrodynamics.
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other side projects, illustrating the versatility of
his unconventional, problem-solving mind. His
current interests include designing and building
tiny houses, yurt style. Continuing the theme
of sustainability is the ongoing development of
his two-acre property following permaculture
principles. Driven by dissatisfaction with his home
heating options, he has designed and built his
own wood burner for what he says is frankly
ULGLFXORXV WKHUPDO HIåFLHQF\
Back in the world of bikes again, he has a long
history of making his own bike-related gear,
with one of the earliest examples in 1999 when
he took a suspension post and made a dropper
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the time, but foreshadowing where the industry
would eventually go.
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homebuilt e-bike. Enormously powerful, as it
was essentially a test bed for him to try things
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mountain biking futures.
Pressed further, he readily recognises the
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heavier battery for e-bike design is not neces-
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desire for quality of ride characteristics, which
weight affects negatively. Presently, it seems the
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rent mass-marketed bigger-is-better mentality.
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American gas-guzzling tank of a car, while astute
brands are developing sharper variations.
We circle back to the Katipo, and what else is
on the horizon for Zerode. When asked what
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workload of an independent business, plus all
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riding recently but has just received some linkage
forks from Motion, which is an incentive to get out
29
and pedal more. Linkage forks are another solid
engineering design that indisputably improves
ride quality with no stiction as on telescopic fork
legs, as well as offering anti-dive characteristics.
But like the high pivot idler, linkage forks are
perceived as different. When asking what may
be in the works for Zerode, Rob explains that the
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of work to get production bikes to market. With
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to have test bikes (mules) tacked together for
early prototyping. They know what works so in a
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production sample can start being put through
its paces. Although Rob developed the Taniwha
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[featured in another story in this issue] working
for him to spread the Zerode workload.
Even after spending some quality time with him
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ever-active mind, I still have no idea what may roll
off the Zerode development line next. We can be
sure of a few things though: It will build on the
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completely focused on improved performance.
 Words by Deane Parker
After a previous bikerafting expedition, Muel and I started map plotting for an-
other more challenging route in the South Island. We have been adventuring
together for decades both on the bike, on the river commercial raft guiding,
and on packrafting trips. Muel is an ideal wingman, always keen to assist for
the sake of the team and his jolly banter keeps the morale up during long
days in the backcountry.

For me this was a chance to revisit old haunts and link up the icons of the
Fluid Trails. This is the name we gave our adven-
National park. Also to test the theory of carrying mountain bikes on packrafts
ture as we drove back into the Canterbury plains
down grade 3 rapids with all the gear required for an extended trip.
of NZ. We had just completed 11 days of biking
and Packrafting a loop of the Kahurangi National
A couple of members from the Waiau-Toa Odyssey team pulled out and I had
Park. Fluid being the watery sections of the three
a filmmaker then I didn’t, so I had to reassess the structure and find a team.
rivers we paddled, and Trails- we linked 2 of the
I had been keen on asking Rose Green to join us, Rose is an accomplished
longest sections of singletrack in the country
rider having competed in the megavalanche on a homemade full suspension
with some other singletrack, some backroads
tandem mountain bike, plus many other epic bike missions. I had done a cou-
and a bit of tarseal to make a primo 550km loop
ple of river trips with Rose and I decided that with some training she would
of white water and technical bikepacking.
probably be capable of navigating grade 3 in a tiny inflatable raft with a bike
strapped to the front of it, I hoped.

A good friend who I had worked with making another film, Dylan Gerschwitz,
answered the call for assistance with the drone work and handheld camera
work through the first section, The Old Ghost Road (OGR).

So in late Spring with all the preparations made, the four of us travelled up to
the Buller (Kawatiri) River to base ourselves at Tim’s place at Whale Flat. Tim
is the owner of rafting company Ultimate Descents where I started my rafting
career way back in 1995. Whale Flat would be where we spent our last night
before packrafting back to our starting point Lyell.

Day 1
We loaded up our bikes at the Lyell campground, the trailhead to the Old
Ghost Road. Deep history in gold mining is present in the form of dere-
lict settlements on the climb to Lyell Saddle and the first hut. The track
is the original old bench so its gradient is easy and it was a great way to
get familiar with the loaded bikes. There was a 1200 vertical metre climb
onto the craggy Lyell range where it started to snow. We had been looking
forward to getting the drone up along the impressive traverse with its jagged
granite peaks and the equally impressive trail cut into the mountain side,
but our plans were thwart. This part of the track earns its grade 4-5 status
by technical slabby terrain with big exposure down into the valley. By the
time we reached the infamous Heavens Door, the snow started to settle.
Usually this feature frames a vista looking down into the Buller river and
across the southern part of the National Park. Dylan our drone
operator was ‘in the red’ at this point, and
the frequent breaks were becoming as long
as the time spent riding. The risk of developing hypother-
mia was increasing as the evening sky started to darken. Somehow we
managed to get him to take a photo of the 3 of us which turned into the only
team pic from the whole trip. After this, we bombed down the descent to the
Ghost Lake Hut knowing we would probably be the last to arrive and the log
burner would be pumping.
Day 2
At first light there was snow covering everything, more than a dusting. The
skies were blue above us and a heavy layer of cloud was covering the
valleys making the hills and mountains look like islands in an ocean. It had
been a busy night in the hut with a large group of older trampers fluffing
about. One of the camp mothers that had helped to revive Dylan the night
before had surplus snack food they gave us as we set off in the morning.
The weather was prime for a drone session so we started the descent
being buzzed by an oversized mosquito. Immediately this distraction was
shelved as the track conditions got rowdy with more major exposure to
contend with. Skyline Ridge is the heart of the Old Ghost Road where the
geography is challenging for track building. The track building volunteers
would have shed blood, sweat and tears to get this section established. This
is some gnarly terrain but the OGR has the ability to cater for a range of
The Old Gost Road
riders that are prepared to take the step to backcountry technical bikepack-
ing. After the stairs of Skyline Ridge comes a few hours of flowy trail down
the valley to the next hut, Stern Creek. Climbing gently, the trail winds up
to the Boneyard. This area sits atop several fault
lines, one of which ruptured catastrophi-
cally in 1929 in the Murchison earthquake.
This quake was quoted as ‘the day the hills
fell down and the rivers dried up’. Huge landslides
thundered into the valleys and consequently dammed rivers. Ninety years
on, the scars of this event are still visible and earth movements have formed
many white water features that the Buller region is famed for. The Boneyard
is one of these earthquake slip zones. Constantly eroding and changing. All
credit to the OGR maintenance crew for keeping the climb to Solemn Sad-
dle running sweet. From this high point, we cruised through stunning native
forest and followed the South Branch of the Mokihinui River to our nights
accommodation at Specimen Creek hut.
Day 3
Today was the most difficult river section we had planned. The Mokihinui
gorge is in laces a beer walled granite canyon with huge rocks forming
boulder garden style rapids that become a bit of chess fame to navigate
your way through. The put in was in a rapid so was quite an intimidating
place to start especially for Rose. We scouted the line through the rapid
before setting off. Rose tentatively bumbled her way through the lead in and
managed to straighten up just in time for the hole at the bottom. Phew that
took the edge off. Several solid grade 3 rapids ensued. Rose fell out in one
of the bigger rapids, Muel and I hustled to reunite boat, paddle and paddler,
fortunately the run out was into a deep pool. Not far from our end point at
the Rough and Tumble Lodge and the official end point of the OGR is a
particularly nasty rapid that I remembered from years ago. I pulled into an
eddy above it and jumped up to scout. It was steep enough I couldn’t see
the bottom but it looked open enough so I gave Muel the thumbs up too run
straight through, I watched as he dropped over a gap between 2 rocks and
was caught by a severe cross current and flipped. I frantically dragged my
boat through the shallows to avoid the drop but desperate to chase my mate
feeling I had let him down by telling him it was ok. By the time I reached him
he had self rescued his gear and reboarded his packraft. Unknown
to us at this point was the smack that had
occurred to his bike, breaking the lever off
his thru-axle. We discovered the fact when we reached the take out.
Thinking caps went on thinking of a solution. The Rough and Tumble Lodge is
run by the OGR management. It is an oasis after 2-3 days skid adventuring so
we wer elooking forward to hot showers and dinner that wasn’t freeze dried.
After searching the west coast bike shops for a replacement boost maxle
unsuccessfully a group of riders walked in just completed the trail and was
happy to give Muel his axle and he’d reimburse him. Luke was a massive help
and a shout out to Big Al’s bike shop in Methven who Luke co-runs.
Day 4
We’d planned and easier day riding on the road to get to Karamea and
some friends place for the night and reprovisioning at the superette. It’s a
big old climb over the Karamea Bluff but the views are well worth it and the
descent is long and ends at a pub. We had lunch there and then only had
a half hour spin into the little town. Both Muel and I have spent time here as
the start and finish points for one of the most challenging commercial rafting
trip in the country through the infamous Roaring Lion section and culminat-
ing in the grade 5 Karamea Gorge. Even more important to me is I met my
wife here during these forays into the world of extreme adventure tourism.
Melissa’s family are fourth generation farmers from Karamea so a little bit of
my heart belongs here.
Day 5
An ominous forecast for heavy rain was on all our minds this morning as
we rode out of Karamea and followed the coastline north to the start of the
Heaphy. It was still dry when we reached the
trail head, the pesky sandflies urged us
onwards. The first section is a well crafted trail ducking and diving
through the Nikau palm forests and chiseled into the hillside. This art has
had significant improvements over the last 5 years and there is no need to
walk the bike along the beach now. The precipitation still holding off when
we reached the first hut for lunch. From here the track heads inland but still
very much coastal while following the lower Heaphy River to the Lewis Hut
which designates the ——vertical metre climb up onto the downs. It was late
in the day and weary legs began the almost 2 hour climb to James Mackey
hut. At some pint while climbing through the forest a heavy drizzle started
and all thoughts of continuing across the alpine Saxton downs disappeared.
We arrived at a crowded hut full of mountain bikers cooking an assortment
of foil wrapped freeze dried meals. After we had unpacked and settled in
the DoC ranger announced that a Takahe, a critically endangered ground
dwelling parrot type bird was grazing them little patch of grass outside the
hut. A mass exodus followed similar to a tourist bus tour. The cameras were
snapping the mini rockstar. I was keen to get some footage and within a few
minutes the crowd had gone, muel rose and I hung out with this dinosaur
looking bird observing her behaviour. I find an amazing experience.
Day 6
Today we would ride through the rest of the Heaphy and spend the night at
the start point for the second river section, the Aorere. Most of the day was
spent crossing the Saxton and gouland downs. Thousands of hectares of
rolling alpine tussocklands with views out to the surrounding mountains. A
stiff climb to the penultimate hut at Perry saddle and more heavy drizzle.
We sheltered in the hut cooking a hot lunch while getting a lecture from a
DoC ranger about how access for bikes could be removed if they didn’t
ride more conservatively which seemed a touch ironic given we sitting in a
palatial hut built to cope with the numbers of bikers also this rangers salary
was paid predominantly by hut bookings by cyclists and finally before bikers
were allowed there were no full time rangers. So by the time we rigged up
for the big downhill I was quite pleased to be leaving. We descended to
browns hut passing a very folk riding in for the last open weekend before
closing to bikes for summer.
Day 7
With rain overnight I decided to check the river level. It was nerve wracking
finding the river on the rise and discoloured. We had been warned about
paddling the Aorere at high flow due to the nature of the geology being
undercut limestone meaning risk of entrapment. The mood was
pretty somber while rigging the boats and
I was thinking we could flag this and ride
around but as soon as we got on the water and into the first sheer
walled gorge the diversity of bikerafting came flooding home. The gorges
are spectacular lined with tree ferns and dripping moss and the road ride
around this section would have been very mediocre. The paddle went great
apart from we chickened out on one rapid that had a particularly wide and
retentive hydraulic feature and walked or portaged around. Feeling pretty
ecstatic teaching the road bridge we derived as quickly as we could know-
ing that after a 40km road ride we’d be at Takaka and a booked motel. We
stopped for a feed and Frecked Frog Feijoa Cider at the iconic Mussel Inn
to motivate us for the last 15km.
Day 8
A later than planned departure from Takaka due to a hearty cooked break-
fast and a trip to The Quiet Revolution bike shop for a quick chin wag. I had
planned right through the preparations that the climb out of Golden Bay to
the Gridiron Rock Shelter was going to be a long day. It started
leisurely enough but as we created the first major climb onto Barrons Flat
the rain started. Expecting a gnarly technical trail, but rideable we were soon
disappointed with years of windfall and overgrown vegetation slowing us to
2km/hour and necessitated more hiking than biking. It a bit of a shame as
it’s also a hundred year old bench that could be a popular link to bikepack-
ers doing a circuit of Kahurangi. The trail conditions became easier but we
decided that’s DoC’s grading of this section was underestimated. We were
very stoked to arrive at the rock shelter before dark and to find a few slabs
of dryish firewood. It was a cool evening and I went to bed wearing all my
clothes in my lightweight sleeping bag.
Day 9
I awoke early but warm which was rather satisfying. Before rousing a
piercing whistle sang through the trees. I was instantly sitting up knowing
that bird call instinctively from years of working and playing on the mountain
rivers of New Zealand. This was the call of Whio commonly and unattractive-
ly dubbed Blue Duck. I grabbed my camera and shot down the bank to see
if I could get some shots. They are placid and I got close enough to get a
good shot. They mate for life and this pair had been very lucky to natural-
ly habitat or been reintroduced into the Flora stream area which has an
impressive network of traps maintained by a volunteer organisation ‘Friends
of the Flora’. It was damp in the bush but the sun was coming out through
the morning mist we could see through the canopy so we hurriedly rigged
the bikes for the short climb to Flora Saddle and the big gravel descent into
the futile Motueka Valley with its hops and apple orchards lining the highway
to our next little town Tapawera. Building thunder clouds as we stuffed our
faces outside the shops and a heavy shower ensued as we peddled away
from the tarseal and onto the Dry weather road for the ride through to our
lodgings at a quaint farmpackers on the road from Nelson to Murchison.
Day 10
Having some choices for the last couple of days was refreshing and we
choose to head up the Gowan Valley to Lake Rotora and the Nelson Lakes
National Park who’s peaks we were looking at in the distance from our first
night at Ghost Lake. From the Lake we would be able to take gravel back-
roads over the Braeburn Saddle and down the Tutaki and Mangles Valleys
to avoid most of the busy highway. We stopped in and caught up with the
team of raft guides at Ultimate Descents and I managed to stuff a whole six
pack in my frame bag for the 18km ride back to Tim and Solana’s place at
Whale Flat. We rode up the drive in sunny skies looking straight up to Heav-
ens Door on the Lyell Range. Grubby and weary we grabbed a beer and
went for the short bush walk down to the family’s private swimming hole and
the water was luscious on tired legs and sore muscles. We returned to the
little shack we were sleeping in, lit the outside bath cracked another beer
or was it the third? and started preparations for our last day but potentially
the hardest day on the river with the big volume rapids of the Upper Buller
Gorge to look for too or is that get nervous about.
Day 11
The morning bought the standard valley clag which meant the sun was shin-
ing above the mist and sure enough by the time we rode the short distance
to where we were going to launch our packrafts at O’Sullivans the sun was
blazing. I was apprehensive for Rose knowing that these rapids were going
to test her skill, mind her normal relaxed demeanour was just the same as
we rigged above the thundering first rapid. We all successfully navigated
through that one and then we made it past the Maruia confluence famous
for big downtime. Whale Creek rapid was a fun crashing wave train. We all
dialed the remaining white water and our spirits were high as set of on the
bikes one last time back to Lyell and the start of the OGR.
This journey had solidified my passion for bikerafting. Even though we could
have planned alternative routes around the river sections the paddling was
like getting two different slices of pie in the same dessert it’s a difficult
analogy to sum up. The feeling of being pulled along by the flow of the river
resting weary legs and butts while viewing a totally polarised view on the
environment is a complete contrast to the intense energy and focus required
to negotiate technical trail on a loaded bike. This is bikerafting.
Kahurangi National Park is incredibly diverse pocket of our small island
nation. Full of the most unique bird life, passing through varied landscapes
from mountains to coast to temperate rainforest. The tracks and rivers are
an ideal medium to experience these Fluid Trails
Postcard’s from
the edge Words & Images by Dan Milner

Braving the world’s southernmost trails

The postcards haven’t arrived here yet—something that more reflects

the absence of tourists than the efficiency of Chile’s postal service. But
on the Argentinean side of the infamous Beagle Channel, Ushuaia’s
main street is lined with postcard stands.
They spin in the wind, jostling to compete with cuddly toy penguins for tourists’ atten-
tion and money. Lured here by the romance of Patagonia’s Tierra del Fuego, a place
popularly tagged ‘the End of the World’, eager adventurers queue for bus tours or to
board vessels bound for Antarctica. Few cross the four-mile wide Beagle Channel to
Navarino Island, a Chilean outpost that sits off the southern tip of South America. It’s
a wild, remote place and on the wrong side of tourism’s most southern frontier; the
island’s inhabitants don’t need postcards to remind themselves they’re living on the
edge of civilization.

On a day like today, as the sun burns into my bare forearms and dust hangs over each
turn, it’s easy to puzzle as to why Navarino is so unvisited. I grunt up another steep
incline and muscle my wheels over a tangle of dry roots as wild horses scatter into a
thicket of Lenga trees. I’m tailing Claudio Osorio—the island’s sole mountain biker and
by default, my ad-hoc guide—as we finally break from the treeline into the welcome
embrace of a cool breeze. Now far below us, the Beagle Channel stretches east to
west—230 kilometres of glistening quicksilver flowing past a pie-crust shoreline. For
the moment life seems idyllic, but I am to learn Navarino is a fickle friend.

Three days later the debate isn’t about the severity of the weather but on its details:
is this hail or graupel that’s needling our skin and frosting our brake levers? We’ve
launched ourselves into the Dientes de Navarino circuit—a rudimentary, way-marked
trail that boasts to be the planet’s most southern trekking route—and we’re halfway
through a three-day ride among its jagged namesake mountains. Now, after a morn-
ing spent brewing tea as rain drummed on our tent, we’ve seized the first break in the
storm to scale a slippery hillside, our sights set on the 760-metre-high Paso Australia.
Bikes slung across backs, we snatch glimpses of our base camp through the swirling
mist. It may be pitched only a quarter into this 53-kilometre purist’s loop, but distances
mean nothing here. On this uncompromising lump of sub-Antarctic rock sitting 55
degrees south, it’s the weather—not kilometres pedalled or trekked—that dictates
success or failure.
It takes us an hour to near the barren, rock-strewn Paso Aus-
tralia, by which time the storm has returned with a vengeance.
The swirl of hail around us would blanket the ground if given
the opportunity, but a fierce westerly wind has other plans; it
dances the ice pellets across our reddened faces before sen-
tencing them to a fate sealed in the saline embrace of the At-
lantic. But it’s not bad weather that’s stopped us in our tracks;
it’s the sight of our trail cutting a crude and exposed diagonal
across a glistening cliff face ahead. I see the first glimmers of
real doubt creep across the team’s faces.
There is probably good reason—or perhaps many—why
nobody has biked the Dientes de Navarino circuit before. An
absence of infrastructure, aside from sporadic trail markers,
dictates that you are self-sufficient once you enter the trail,
and it can snow on any day of the year here. Even the moun-
tain range’s name, ‘Dientes de Navarino’—meaning ‘Teeth of
Navarino’—is foreboding. But curiosity has lured me here and
I’m willing to brave the island’s meteorological mood swings
to ride trails no one has ridden before. And I’m not alone. Now
at the foot of a slippery cliff, lost in spindrift, I glance around
at my co-adventurers, overcome with grins of bemusement,
their spirits emboldened by the novelty of the situation. In this
little-known place, we have no expedition aim other than to
simply explore, an approach that leaves us few expectations
to meet, but avoids disappointment too. We needn’t have
worried: while over our eight-day stay the rewards prove to be
hard-gained, they are uniquely life affirming too.
When I first scoured the internet for information on Navari-
no’s possible trails, I found a dozen hikers’ blogs that detailed
days spent sitting out blizzards, or episodes of wading across
waist-deep, icy saltwater estuaries. They shouted pain rather
than pleasure, so I shelved the idea of riding bikes here as
either naïve or masochistic. But the lure of experiencing the
world’s southernmost trails nagged for my attention like a
hungry puppy, and slowly a plan was hatched through an
exchange of factually vague emails with friend and Chilean
bike guide Javier Aguilar. Word got out and by the time Daniel
Franco, Darren Beare, and Ryan Stimac signed up to join us,
my plan, born from simple curiosity, had gathered momentum
and I started to feel the weight of responsibility. As I stepped
off the little boat from Ushuaia, I felt a tinge of anxiety. It was
a feeling shared by all a couple of days later as we began our
ride into the Dientes circuit.
We pedalled out through the weatherboard and corrugated
tin facades of Puerto Williams’ houses, between rusting cars
propped up on blocks of wood, their transmissions having
long been lost to forgetfulness or despair. Dogs ran in packs
past piles of chopped firewood, wild horses wandered be-
tween picket-fenced gardens. The feeling of life on the edge
was almost overwhelming. Tax-free earnings might help lure
some to settle in Puerto Williams—the island’s sole town,
with 2800 inhabitants—but it shares the social challenges of
many frontier towns; obesity, alcoholism, and teen pregnan-
cies are rife. “I hate it,” says Lorena Vargas, who runs the small
hostel we stay in. “There is nothing to do here. Nothing.”
Vargas may live on the fringe of a vast tract of the kind of
unspoilt wilderness that appeals to hikers and sea-kayakers,
but I guess there are only so many times you can summon the
enthusiasm for the 600 metre climb up to the Cerro Bandera,
the dome-like peak that looms over town. Bandera is the first
summit on the Dientes circuit, and we rode it twice, once as an
out-and-back reconnaissance mission, and again two days
later with backpacks bulging with the camping gear we need-
ed for our three-day ride to the Paso Australia. Both times, lad-
en or not, the twisting, butter-smooth descent back to Puerto
Williams was as good a flow trail as you could find anywhere.
Not so further inland. With perhaps only five hikers per day
treading the trail, the ravages of nature have sculpted the
little-trodden singletrack into off-camber tests of resolve and
focus. We tiptoed along it, suspended high above a swamp-
filled valley, before descending to our planned camp spot at
Lago Salto. We rode what we could and pushed what overly
scared us, thankful for the clear blue sky above, and to be
immersed in such dramatic mountains without having to puff
and pant—the Dientes peaks top out at 1195 metres.
We camped two nights on boggy ground, feet sheathed in
plastic bags against the penetrating damp, and watched
a trickle of hikers pass through. Many had eschewed the
over-Instagrammed Torres del Paine National Park—the
shining jewel in Chile’s National Park crown—in favour of
the unknowns of the Dientes de Navarino, but it’s clear that
word of Navarino’s emptiness is getting out. And that’s the
way Patricio Fernandez, Navarino’s mayor, prefers it. We meet
Fernandez as we exit our three-day out-and-back foray into
the mountains, and after shaking our hands enthusiastically,
he tells us how he is keen to build tourism and how mountain
biking is part of that vision. He wants to host a mountain bike
event here within two years, he says.
We leave Fernandez to his enthusiasm and exhaustedly
freewheel down to Puerto William’s small harbour in search of
hard-earned cake and coffee at the island’s only modern cafe.
But it’s Sunday and it’s closed—almost as if visitors weren’t
expected—so instead we sit for a moment and look out at the
needle-like peaks of Tierra del Fuego on the other side of the
Beagle Channel. Like so many adventurers before us, Darwin
and Fitzroy included, we’ve been humbled by the untamed
flavour of this remote, uncompromising corner of the planet,
but we’re also in awe of it. There are few places so untouched
and so raw as Navarino, but that is its charm and attraction.
Unlike the penguins and orca that have found their niche in
the Beagle Channel, on its southern shore humans can only
cling to survival through either hope or stubbornness, or per-
haps both. And our own experiences are no different.
We have ridden trails at the very southern edge of tourism’s
reach, and we leave with stories of overcoming challenges in a
place imbibed with immeasurable unspoilt beauty; it’s a story
of costs and rewards on the fringe of humanity. If the may-
or’s bike event happens, or if hikers increasingly march their
Vibram soles towards the Dientes Circuit, then change will
inevitably follow. Infrastructure will grow, trails will be built, and
tourism will creep a little further south, crossing the Beagle
and leaping across tourism’s most southern frontier. And then,
postcards will likely follow, and I’ll be back to send one.
 words &
images by
john o’malley

over 4,400km
with 50,000m vertical
in 34 days from canda to mexico
It’s day nine of our Tour Divide race. I
use the word ‘race’ loosely, as at that
point the leaders were, distance-wise,
on another planet to us. Sue and I had
left Butte, Montana earlier that morning
(having arrived in Butte that morning
too: that post-midnight switchback-lad-
en singletrack descent to town in the
dark sure was interesting—and who was
that guy wandering around up there car-
rying a soccer ball?) and we were now
in the broad valley below Fleecer Ridge.
Sue is sitting on the side of the dirt road,
crying. Crying?
I’m unsure what’s going on. Sue has nev-
er done this before. She tries to explain:
“I’ve just got nothing left. My legs have
nothing left.” In all our previous bike
trips Sue just got on with the task. She’s
tough. Weeks biking in the Icelandic
highlands in appalling weather didn’t
faze her at all. But now? Tears?
In retrospect, I think Sue’s tears came
more out of frustration from not being
able to ride as strongly as she wanted,
rather than feeling beaten by this nev-
er-ending journey we were on. The days
since leaving Banff had been pretty full-
on, even at our slower pace, and there
had been a lot of climbing; the average
daily ascent had been over 1800 metres.
Accumulated fatigue was creeping up
on us and it was all too easy to feel
overwhelmed, especially with the finish
line well over the horizon at around
3200km away. And we were still only in
Montana! Whoever said racing the Tour
Divide was mostly a mental game was
right.
So we sit for a while, talk a bit, and have
a bite to eat. We can’t stop where we
are, so decide to tackle the remaining
600m climb up to Fleecer Ridge in small
chunks. Whatever it takes to get up—
and down. The descent off the ridge
turns out to be as steep and loose as
we’d been led to believe.
Outside of the bikepacking world, the
Tour Divide race is relatively unknown.
Put simply the Tour Divide
It’s a single-stage, self-supported is a single-stage, self-
mountain bike race that follows a lab-
yrinth of single- and doubletrack, and supported mountain bike
dirt and gravel forest roads down the race that follows a labyrinth
North American Continental Divide for
over 4400km, and up over 50,000m of of single and double tracks,
climbing, from the snow of the Canadian and dirt and gravel forest
Rockies to the furnace heat of deserts
on the Mexican border. Apart from the roads down the North
physical and mental effort involved,
other challenges encountered on the
American Continental
TD include dangerous wildlife (the route Divide for over 4,400km
traverses a lot of bear country), high
altitudes (the highest passes are over
(and up over 50,000m of
3400m), and lightning (thunderstorms climbing)
are all too common, especially in the
south of the route). This year too, heavy
snow in Colorado closed passes and
stymied the leading racers from break-
ing any race records.
Day 13 Early evening on
the corrugated loose
sand of the railtrail-from-
hell between Island Park
and Warm River in Idaho
It’s an ‘underground’ race in the sense
that there’s no organising body, no entry
fee, no prizes for the winners, and no
official welcoming committee for those
who reach the finish at the isolated
border station at Antelope Wells. Com-
peting riders just turn up in Banff on the
second Friday each June and leave in
a group ‘grand depart’. The TD route,
which must be followed precisely, is set
by GPS and riders carry satellite track-
ers, for their own safety and to allow
their progress to be tracked on the in-
ternet. Rider tracking, or “dot watching”,
is an addictive pastime!
Everyone in the TD rides their own race
and certainly wrestles their own de-
mons. For about half of the 167 starters
this year, those demons, whether me-
chanical, physical, or mental, will lead to
their scratching. However, it seems New
Zealanders and their bikes are made
of sterner stuff; Kiwis have traditionally
done well in the TD, from Ollie Whalley’s
2012 win, to this year’s contingent of
nine with a 90% finish rate.
At our age, we had no illusions about
being real race contenders but hoped
at least for a finish within the 30 to 31-
day race window. In the end, we didn’t
quite make the Mexican border within
this time, arriving at Antelope Wells in
34½ days, but we’ve gone away feeling
pleased. We also arrived at the border
feeling in pretty good physical shape—
we were particularly lucky not having
any issues with saddle sores or misfiring
joints. That’s not to say we didn’t suffer
during the ride, but it was nice not to
finish as complete physical wrecks. Sue
was the oldest female finisher this year
(there were a mere 19 women in the 167
starter field to begin with, of which seven
finished), and was nearly, but not quite,
the oldest female TD racer on record (as
we didn’t finish in 31 days). Maybe that
means another crack next year...
Reflecting on our ride, the long days
tend to blur together, so my recall be-
comes more of a series of vignettes:
Day 3 / 338km. Flathead Valley, British
Columbia. Cruising down a straight for-
estry road, I look up from my GPS to see
a thin branch from a treefall, dead ahead
at face height. I swerve, my front wheel
overturns and I’m off. I hit hard and slide,
luckily more on dirt than gravel. Apart
from realigning the handlebars, my bike
seems okay, though the skin on my knee
is open and bleeding, and my side feels
pretty raw. I seem to have got off lightly
as the knee joint is still able to do its job
without pain. Looking at my bleeding
knee, it occurs to me that when (if) we
finish this ride and make it to the Mexi-
can border, it’ll be all healed. It puts the
length of the ride ahead into perspective.
Day 6 / 702km. Richmond Peak, Mon-
tana. We’re descending the singletrack
below Richmond Peak between Holland
and Seeley Lakes. Six hours earlier we’d
been sitting in 30°C temperatures eating
lunch; now it’s 2°C and snowing. Being
warm and wet on the climb up in the rain
has now translated into being cold and
wet on the 500m early-evening descent.
They say hypothermia sneaks up on
you and we’re well and truly caught. The
Richmond Peak area is known for its
grizzly bears, and when Sue, instead of
her usual “coo-eee” bearcall, heads off
down the singletrack with an exuberant
“get out of the way you #@!*#s, I’m com-
ing down!”, I’m left wondering if this is a
sudden burst of energy or the product
of a hypothermic mind. We reach the
next town of Seeley Lake and, having
difficulty with my vision, I wonder about
how close we were to a real crisis.
Day 15 / 1920km. Union Pass, Wyoming.
We’d left late afternoon for Union Pass
from the Lava Mountain Lodge, at the
foot of the descent from Togwotee
Pass, feeling slightly apprehensive.
When a local warns you several times
to “watch out for the wildlife up there” it
makes you wonder what might lie ahead.
Still, if we were fazed by riding in grizzly
country we simply wouldn’t be doing
the TD. All the same, the initial climb up
through the fire-blackened trees did give
a feeling of foreboding. Up higher, our
progress is slowed by a steep and rocky
hike-a-bike section before we break out
into the open meadows below Union
Pass. As we cross the meadows at
nearly 3000m, the 360° views all around
are truly magnificent. In the west, the
sun begins to set behind the silhouetted
jagged peaks of the Teton Range, but
I leave my camera in its case—some
memories are best left unphotographed.
Rather than riding on into the night, we
look for a campsite as darkness falls.
Finding flat ground close to the treeline,
we put up our tents under the watchful
eyes of the many imagined grizzly bears
and the merciless attack of a million
very real mosquitoes.
Day 17 / 2163km. Atlantic City, Wyo-
ming. It’s evening and we’re sitting on an
outside deck in Atlantic City attentive to
Wild Bill’s stories, eating his wife Came-
la’s delicious homemade pie and ice
cream. Tomorrow we’ll tackle the long
hot ride through the Great Basin but
tonight we’re relaxing as the humming-
birds trill and flit through the overhead
awning. As well as owning the B&B
where we’re staying, Wild Bill is a hunt

ing guide with an unlimited supply of tall
tales. With his long white hair and beard,
we could easily be listening to someone
transported in time from the Old West.
From what we learn from Wild Bill, we’re
glad to be out of grizzly territory, but
those mountain lions—I’m not sure I like
what Wild Bill says about them ...
Day 23 / 2838km. Hartsell, Colorado.
We’d started the day so well! A double
breakfast (triple omelette, hash browns,
and toast, plus the pancakes and syrup
please) followed by great progress on
the climb to be on 3499m Boreas Pass
by early morning. So why was it now
4pm and why were we sitting, feeling
slightly sun-cooked, on a couple of
plastic crates in the shade out the back
of the mercantile store at Hartsell, con-
templating the next 77km (and 700m of
climbing) to Salida?
Admittedly, we’d probably been a bit
slow on the Gold Dust Trail singletrack
down from Boreas, and yes, we did
stop for that coffee in Como, and those
thunderstorms and mud after Como had
slowed us a bit (well, maybe a lot). But
where had all the hours gone? As with
so many days on the TD, the daylight
hours had flown by and now we were
staring down the barrel of another finish
in the dark.
The instant we roll
Of course, the ride from Hartsell turns
out to be harder and longer than forward the dogs get into
expected. Apart from loose gravel and
never-ending washboards, an unrelent-
character... Only one is a bit
ing headwind grinds us down to a sub- snappy, the other two just
10km/h pace. The sun sets well before
we’re anywhere near Salida and we push
going through the motions
on in the dark to the howl of coyotes. as if it were their part-time
The final downhill stretch into Salida is a
relief but the 1000m dirt road descent in job.
the dark is too much of a good thing for
tired bodies. On the plus side, we reach
the McDonalds in Salida a few minutes
before its midnight closing.
That ride to Salida was probably the
closest we came to quitting the race.
With so many days riding seemingly still
in front of us, we just couldn’t see how
we could maintain that level of ongoing
eviscerating effort. It seemed better and
easier to give up a good way from the
finish than face the disappointment of
failure close to the end. Without real-
ising it, we were close to being beaten
by our own mental game; physically
we were still in okay shape, or at least
would be after a bit of food and rest,
so it was really just the thought of the
riding ahead that nearly beat us. A rest
in Salida clears our heads and rejuve-
nates our bodies. Quitting? What were
we thinking? The following day we’re off
again, up the climb to Marshall Pass and
beyond.
 Day 15 The view to the
Pinnacle Buttes on the
descent below Togwotee
Pass, Wyoming
Day 29 / 3447km. Vallecitos, New
Mexico. The village of Vallecitos has a
reputation for being a bit of a ‘dog alley’
so we’re not sure what to expect when
we roll up. After bears and lightning,
dogs were number three on my TD
list of things that could hurt me. So
far we’d managed pretty well on that
front, having surprised only one bear
on a blind corner in Montana, and
encountering no lightning, although as
it turns out the thunder gods were
saving this one up for us.
We stop at the village entrance and look
at the three hounds lounging in the sun
at the road’s edge. They stare back at
us, more bored than aggressive, I think.
No one moves, but as we have to reach
at least Abiquiu that day, it looks to be up
to us to break this (New) Mexican stand-
off. The instant we roll forward the dogs
get into character and run at us, bark-
ing. One is a bit snappy, the other two
merely going through the motions as if it
were their part-time job to keep up the
village’s canine reputation. A pleasant
letdown, though that vicious little furball
of a puppy at the other end of the village
has potential when fully grown.
That’s pretty much it for us versus the
expected packs of feral New Mexican
dogs. The village of El Rito was another
dog non-event (too hot I suspect) and
while the Abiquiu dogs were very vocal
at 4:30am, the whole area instantly ‘lit’
up with barking canines, none seemed
to be bothered getting to their feet to
chase us.
Day 31 / 3935km. Pie Town, New Mex-
ico. Our ride to Pie Town, oppressive
heat, road corrugations, and roaming
thunderstorms aside, had been pretty
good by TD standards, and we reach
the pie shops late afternoon. Of course,
we had to make the most of the pies
and after eating our fill and stocking
up on burritos-to-go for the next two
days through the Gila Wilderness, we
decide it’s too wet and thundery to bike
on and we should stay at Pie Town for
the night. We make our way to find the
Toaster House.
We aren’t sure where it’s located, but
the wooden gateway festooned with
old toasters gives us a subtle clue.
The Toaster House is a hostel owned
by local woman Nita, who has made it
freely available to any hikers and bikers
passing through Pie Town. Inside the
house, there’s an eclectic mix of ‘things’.
We spend the evening talking with its
other occupant, Kyle, a between-town
hiker, who was planning to write a book
about his experiences.
Day 33 / 4064km. Gila Wilderness,
New Mexico. We’re on our second
day in the Gila Wilderness and the last
burrito-to-go from Pie Town has long
since been eaten. The temperature
is in the high 30s and while we have
plenty of water, it’s at near body tem-
perature, making it pretty unpalatable.
Our food supplies are down to one Clif
bar each and the next resupply at Silver
City is 100km and 2000m of climbing
away—and we still have to negotiate an
unknown section of singletrack on the
CDT Alternate before Silver City (the
TD always seemed to throw in such
‘interesting’ route variations). I’m sitting
at the side of the road with my head on
my knees and Sue asks how I’m feeling.
“I really don’t want to think about it too
much. Besides, it doesn’t matter how
I feel, all that matters is that we can’t
stay here...” I’m getting dizzy from the
heat and lack of food. But how I feel isn’t
going to change things and we simply
must move on. As luck would have it,
we’re saved at the top of the next hot
climb by a crew of firefighters who give
us water and food. Gatorade never
tasted so good!
Day 34 / 4418km. Antelope Wells, New
Mexico. Earlier that day, the contingent
of local Silver City police at the next
table had confirmed we made a good
choice of a cafe for breakfast. On what
would be our last day of riding in the Chi-
huahuan Desert, we decided against a
predawn start in favour of an energy-rich
6am breakfast and had made the most
of our omelettes and pancakes.
The 125km ride to Hachita had been
predictably hot (40°C anyone?) but the
lack of big hill climbing was a pleasant
change. The last 75km stretch from
Hachita to the border would prove to be
a more ‘interesting’ experience, however.
It had started well with a great tailwind,
though getting lashed by a hailstorm of
biblical proportions at one point was a
little uncomfortable.
What concerned us was the buildup
of thunderstorm activity in the hills on
either side of the wide valley, and the
ominously dark clouds we were riding
directly towards.
Fifteen kilometres from the TD finish
line at Antelope Wells, the thunder gods
let loose. While we’d encountered many
thunderstorms on our ride south, they’d
been relatively benign, and although
we’d heard plenty of thunder and had
been doused by rain and hail, lightning
strikes hadn’t felt a real threat—until
now. We were, of course, Google ex-
perts on what to do (“crouch down with
legs together”), but the bit I remem-
bered was “if you can hear thunder you
are in potential danger of being struck
by lightning”. If that were the case, we
were surely doomed. With only low
desert bushes around us for miles, we
felt particularly attractive targets for
lightning, crouched down or not.
There are regular ground strikes in the
hills on either side. In a detached way,
Sue points out how interesting it is that
the strikes sometimes appear to be
different colours. My favourites are the
cloud-to-ground strikes followed by an
immediate ground-to-cloud bolt; to me,
it looks as if the bolts are ricocheting off
the ground. If the strikes get any closer
we agree we’ll go to ground, but with the
border station lights in sight, we keep
pedalling and hope for the best. How
could we not, this close to finishing?
Overhead, frequent bolts of lightning rip
across the sky with spectacular growths
of root-like electrical side filaments.
Normally I would look at these in awe,
but now it was with a feeling of dread,
waiting for that one rogue ‘filament’
that decides to head to earth. I lower
my head and focus on my front wheel
to try to avoid the overhead display, but
the flashes still light the road surface to
notify me of their presence. There are
roadside mile markers that precisely
measure our grinding progress against
the headwind that’s developed. Of
course, they’re simply impossible not to
look at as their numbers slowly, pain-
fully count down, but we finally reach
the border station gates—alive!—and
our feeling is not just of satisfaction on
finishing, but of relief at not being fried
by a million volts from the sky.
We’d made it! At 34½ days, we were
three days off what is considered race
pace, but we’d finished!
For Sue, as an older woman, finishing
the route is a particularly stellar achieve-
ment. Our previous 3000km Tour
Aotearoa finish in 2018 pales in com-
parison—for us this Tour Divide ride had
been a real beast with real teeth, and we
felt enormous satisfaction in not being
beaten by it.
Jeffery Sharpe from the nearby town
of Hachita is there to pick us up, so
after an obligatory round of photos, we
unload our bikes for the final time and
lift them onto his car’s rack. And yes, my
knee, now with a fresh pink scar, has
healed. Canada truly seemed another
world away.
 OB J ETS D’H EART

HIGH ABOVE LOOKOUT HIP PACK

highabove.net
Words & Image Michael Hayward

The Lookout is a premium product, with materials carefully chosen to stand up few bumbag-style packs I’ve tried, the Lookout would rate at the top for comfort.
to the rigours of regular mountain bike abuse. High Above don’t want you to be
I found the size to be ideal for those short to medium rides, though it could be
buying a new bag in a trendy colourway every season; the Lookout is intended to
comfortably stretched to cover a full day out if some gear was strapped to the
last a long time, and to be repaired if damaged in action.
frame, as long as you didn’t need a bladder’s worth to stay hydrated.
The bag is basically a water-resistant shell with a large section—featuring three
While they stock several off-the-shelf colours, High Above want you to be able to
internal pockets and an open space—accessed from the top zipper, and a smaller
go full custom if the mood strikes, with eight different colour options for the main
pocket you get to from a zip at the front. It’s a simple but functional design that lets
bag and fifteen choices for the wings of the pack. A further nineteen colour choices
you find a home for your smaller bits and pieces like your multi-tool, while carrying
are available for the zip pulls, as well as several options for the webbing and logo.
more than expected.
Every Lookout is handmade in Bellingham, Washington USA, a hotspot of moun-
There’s a handy bottle holder pouch that can be attached to either side using a
tain biking in North America and home base for both Transition and Kona bikes.
sturdy plastic clip that weaves through webbing on the pack and pouch—a must
With plenty of wild riding on the doorstep and the border to British Columbia about
for those with bikes that don’t fit bottle cages. I found the pouch slightly fiddly to
half an hour away, it would be a perfect place for some real-world product testing,
attach or remove but stayed in place well once it was on there. It holds bottles firm-
which may explain why so many of the Lookout’s details just work.
ly but because the pouch is so tight, it could be tricky to slide vessels in or out of.
Currently, if you want to wrap a High Above bag around your waist and you live in
For those changeable shoulder season rides where a jacket’s needed, elastic
New Zealand, you’ll have to order from the website—but don’t be surprised if you
cords that clip to the top of the pack will firmly hold an extra layer or anything else
see a few out on the trail, as High Above owner JC Canfield has made the journey
you want to strap on. This is a really functional addition to the bag, adding lots of
here several times now.
carrying capacity.
They come in at USD$100 (about NZD$160) for an off-the-shelf colourway or
The design is fairly simple so I initially had some doubts about comfort, but was
USD$110 (NZD$175) for a custom job, with extras such as a buckle upgrade
pleasantly surprised after strapping the pack around my waist—it spread the weight
on top. It’s a chunk of change for a hip pack, but you’re paying for a high-quality,
well and stayed in place beautifully. The webbing is wide enough that it didn’t dig in
no-nonsense, handmade product designed to stand up to years of abuse. .
as I’d feared, and the foam backing proved more breathable than expected. Of the

SPOKEMAGAZINE.COM
104
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ISSUE 79 OCTOBER 2019
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Reproduction of this publication without permission is prohibited.
Created in Aotearoa. ISSN 1177-018X.

105
 OB J ETS D’H EART
/28,6*$51($8
COBALT LACE SHOE
allsports.co.nz
Words Sam Baker
Louis Garneau are perhaps more associated with our Lycra-clad brethren of the
WDUPDFLQFOLQDWLRQEXWWKH\ÖUHEUDQFKLQJLQWRPRXQWDLQELNLQJDQGWKH&REDOW
shoe looks to be heading in the right direction. Hailing from its roadie roots, the
&REDOW/DFHLVVHWWRLQKHULW/RXLV*DUQHDXÖVIDPRXVSHUIRUPDQFH'1$
2QåUVWDSSHDUDQFHVWKHVKRHLVRQWKHOLJKWHUVLGHIRUDPRXQWDLQELNHVKRH
DQGUDWKHUVXEWOHIRURQHPDGHWRFORFNWKHNLORPHWUHVSHRSOHVWLOONQRZ\RX
have an energy gel in your back pocket but the casual look is sure to be a win-
QHUIRU\RXUZHHNHQGULGHU,WÖVDFRPIRUWDEOHQRQRQVHQVHVKRHWKDWGRHVLWV
MREZHOO,ÖYHEHHQXVLQJLWDVP\FURVVFRXQWU\VKRHIRUWKHSDVWPRQWKQRZDQG
LWÖVVHHQLWVIDLUPLOHVZLWKRXWDQRXQFHRISDLQRUDORRVHWKUHDGWRVSHDNRI
7KH;&RPIRUW]RQHDOORZVWKHIRRWWRVZHOOXSWRPPDQGZKLOH,KDYHQÖW
been known to measure the increase in my foot size pre- or post-ride, the ride
itself is incredibly comfortable. Like those old slippers at the end of your bed,
these are good to go, day in, day out, without compromise. The lace and strap
closure system is simple and secure, although my one qualm would be that the
laces tend to stick to the strap while tying them up, which can be frustrating
but is easily solved with a bit of care.
I like to be able to walk in my shoes should the need arise, and with the outsole
PRUHDNLQWRDæDWSHGDOVKRH\RXFDQVFDOHURFNJDUGHQVRUZDONLQWRWKH
GDLU\IRUWKDWSRVWULGHFKRFF\PLONZLWKRXWJRLQJDUVHRYHUWLW,I\RXÖUHLQFOLQHG
to do the odd bit of trail maintenance on a ride, the walkable attributes of the
Cobalt will be welcomed with wide open feet.
<RXZDQWDVKRHWRZRUNZHOODQGWKHVHDUHOLJKWZLWKWKHHIåFLHQF\WRPDWFK
7KH7)OH[WHFKQRORJ\GRHVZRQGHUVLQGLVWULEXWLQJWKDWSRZHUWRZKHUHLWÖV
needed. Stiff in the right spots yet with enough give to walk around, they strike
a nice balance between everyday wear and high-performance needs.
,ZRQÖWEHKDQJLQJPLQHXSDQ\WLPHVRRQWKH\åWOLNHDJORYHDQGGRH[DFWO\DV
I want. What more could you need?

MONS ROYALE
REDWOOD WIND JERSEY
monsroyale.com
Words Nigel Fox
7KHPDQ\EHQHåWVRIPHULQRZRRODVDZRQGHUIDEULFKDYHEHHQZHOOGRFXPHQW-
HGGXULQJLWVPHWHRULFULVHWRWKHWRSRIWKHDFWLYHSHUVRQÖVZDUGUREH:KDWÖV
OHVVWDONHGDERXWLV0HULQRÖV$FKLOOHVKHHOWKHZLQG:KLOHWKHWKLQOLJKWZHLJKW
wool that goes into our riding gear does a superb job of wicking moisture away
DQGUHJXODWLQJRXUWHPSHUDWXUHLWÖVSUHWW\XVHOHVVDWVWRSSLQJWKHZLQGDV
WKRVHRI\RXZKRKDYHVWRRGRQDULGJHLQDKRZOLQJ1RUÖZHVWHUZLOODWWHVWWRR
We combat this in other activities by adding a heavier windproof layer but when
ULGLQJELNHVWKLVLVQÖWDOZD\VSUDFWLFDO7KHGHVLJQHUVDW0RQV5R\DOHUHDOLVHG
this and found a solution with a new range of long sleeve wind-proof jerseys.
We were given the Redwood to test, which is their lightest-weight wind jersey
coming in the ultralight 140gsm Air-Con merino. The crux of the new wind-
proof design is the ripstop polyester panel which covers the front of the jacket
and adds a breeze-blocking capability, as well as giving added protection to the
delicate merino yarn.
First impressions: as with most Mons garments, this is one stylish piece of kit,
that would be right at home in my going-out drawer rather than bundled up on
WKHæRRUZLWKP\ULGLQJJHDU7KHQWKHUHZDVWKHåWÓLWZDVVQXJLQDOOWKHULJKW
places but baggy enough to give the rider an air of steeze on the bike, and of
course it came in slimming black.
On the trails the Redwood performed masterfully, giving a perfect balance
between warmth, breathability and wind protection. While the wind panel is
RQO\RQWKHFKHVWDUHDLWÖVHIIHFWLYHQHVVDWFXWWLQJWKHZLQGFKLOOZDVLQVWDQWO\
noticeable on the faster descents.
The jacket has a pocket in the kidney area which is on the small side but
provides a good stash spot for keys and at a squeeze a phone, however I would
have loved a couple more pockets on the Redwood. This was as much to do
with the amount of use I was getting out of the jacket around town as well as
the need for more carry spots while riding.
Overall Mons seem to have nailed it with this lightweight packable, wind-proof jersey
which goes a long way towards negating merinos only weakness. The Redwood is
LGHDOIRU6SULQJDQG6XPPHUXVHEXW,ÖPQRWVXUHLWÖVTXLWHXSIRUWKHFROGHVWGD\V
ULGLQJSHUKDSVWKHRWKHUZLQGSURRIMDFNHWVLQWKHUDQJHZRXOGIDUHEHWWHULQWKH
colder months, but hopefully we see the Kiwi brand expand this line for next year.
SPOKEMAGAZINE.COM
2 N ove m b e r, 7 D e ce m b e r & 2 2 Fe b r u a r y
R o to r u a , N e w Ze a l a n d

Enter online
w w w. 2w.co. n z
 OB J ETS D’H EART
(;76725,$/2.9
lapierrebikes.com
Words Sam Baker
Mountain Bikers are like magpies. We may or may not be long lost descendants,
but we still share the similar glint in our eye for anything shiny and new. The abil-
ity to customise our bike to our desired feel and taste is what makes mountain
biking so damn interesting. The same bike with the same components can take
on entirely different personalities just in the setup alone. And when it comes to
setup, nothing is more crucial than suspension. In walks EXT, with their shiny
new Storia Lok V3.
EXT is relatively new to the mountain bike industry, but they have been perfect-
LQJWKHLUVXVSHQVLRQSODWIRUPRQUDOO\FDUVVLQFHWKHHDUO\ÖVVRDUHIDLUO\ZHOO
equipped when it comes to talking about damping and rebound. Their latest incar-
nation being the Storia Lok V3. Each shock is custom tuned for the destined bike,
and appropriately made in Italy, with a delivery time of 2-4 weeks. This really is as
custom and personalised as it comes.
First of all, this shock is a piece of art. The subtle metallic colour exudes engi-
neering brilliance, where they let the performance do the talking, and coming in at
636grams with spring it is noticeably light. It packs all the high-end adjustability
you could ever want, with low & high-speed compression, Low Speed Rebound and
their Lok Proprietary system. The latter being something that really intrigued me in
DFRLOVKRFN0DQ\FRLOVKRFNVVXIIHUPDLQO\LQWKHLUVOLJKWO\LQHIåFLHQWSHGDOOLQJSODW-
form, that we usually brush aside because of the magnetic like grip the supple initial
VWURNHFDQSURYLGH7KH/RNV\VWHPLVDWLWÖVVLPSOHVWDORFNRXWVZLWFKæLFNHGIRU
XSKLOOPRGH%XWZKDWVHWÖVWKLVÕORFNRXWÖV\VWHPDSDUWLVWKDWLQVWHDGRIFRPSOHWHO\
locking the shock out, it increases the compression gradually. Hence the shock
FDQVWLOOUHWDLQPDQ\RILWÖVFKDUDFWHULVWLFVSHUIHFWIRUDæDWSHGDOO\MXPSWUDFNWKDW
QRUPDOO\PD\OHDYH\RXZDOORZLQJ,ÖPDIDQ
7KHRWKHUWKLQJWKDWVHWÖVWKH(;7DSDUWIURPWKHFRPSHWLWLRQLVWKH+%&+\GUDXOLF
Bottom out control). Coil Shocks are notoriously linear in their suspension curve,
which leaves them prone to bottoming out, and usually suited to bikes with a more
SURJUHVVLYHVXVSHQVLRQFXUYHWRFRXQWHUDFWWKLV<RXFDQXVHFRLOÖVRQOLQHDUELNHV

however uthe usual scenario is employing a heavier spring, and the all-important
bump sensitivity can be lost as a result. Not so much with the Storia V3. Normally
on my coil I run a 550lb spring on my Stumpjumper EVO, and sometimes this feels
even too light. With the Storia however, I was running 475lb with no problem at all.
2QWKHELNHWKHVKRFNKDVDQLQFUHGLEO\XQLTXHIHHOLQJ,ZDVQÖWH[SHFWLQJWRQRWLFH
the difference as much as I did, but the EXT has a general support to it. The HBC
UHDOO\FRPHVLQWRLWÖVRZQDVLQVWHDGRIWKHUHVRXQGLQJZKDFNWKDWXVXDOO\RFFXUV
on a bottom out, it is continuously supportive especially in the end of the stroke.
Actually with the HBC it requires 50% more applied pressure to compress during
the last 15% of the stroke. Nice one. I never once found myself bottoming out in the
VDPHUHVSHFWDVZDVRQP\ROGVKRFN7KHDJHROGFDUSDUNWHVWGRHVQÖWHYHQEHJLQ
to show the potential of the Storia. It actually feels rather dead and sluggish when
\RXåUVWMXPSRQEXWSRLQWLWGRZQDWUDLODQGDOOLVIRUJRWWHQ7KH6WRULDUHDOO\ORYHV
to hug the ground, all roots are hit with abundance and off camber is a thing of the
past. You feel like you can hold any line you please. That familiar grip is there, but
the helping supportive hand is a welcome feeling. And we all need a helping hand
from time to time.
One frustration I have with the shock however is the lack of direction on the dials.
,WÖVDOOLQZHOOåGGOLQJZLWKNQREVLQ\RXUJDUDJHZLWKWKHPDQXDOEXWIRUJHWWKH
direction of the dials out on the trail, just when you want to be dialling in that feel,
DQGLWÖVDOORYHU7KDWDQGWKHIDFW\RXQHHGDPPVSDQQHUIRUWKHKLJKVSHHG
compression seems like a small oversight. If anyone carries a 12mm spanner in
their pocket on a ride then fair play to you sir.
All-in-all though, this is a shock that rewards the rider wholesomely. It has all your
best interests at heart and wants to see you to the bottom of the track as much as
\RX5HWDLOLQJDWLWLVQÖWFKHDSEXWZKDW\RXJHWLVDVKRFNFXVWRPWXQHG
for you and your bike, with all the tunability you could ever want, in a beautifully
presented and light package. If you are after a bit of bling, that genuinely betters the
bike you are on, this might be right up your alley.
SPOKEMAGAZINE.COM
MOUNTAIN BIKE
SOLO OR TEAMS OF TWO

14 MARCH 2020
47km of riding off-road through the
spectacular Southern high country of New
Zealand. There are many rivers to cross, hills
to climb and a few steep descents to conquer.
There is only one chance to bike this course
each year and it’s by riding the Motatapu!

motatapu.com
 OB J ETS D’H EART
PIVOT MACH 4
pivotcycles.co.nz
Words Paul Gunn | Images Cam Mackenzie
Commencal’s new 29-inch version of the Meta TR trail bike wants you to
get rowdy.
This mid-travel weapon is ready to take on much bigger terrain than its
130 millimetres of rear travel suggests. The bike runs a reverse mullet suspen-
sion set-up, with 150mm of front travel, an increasingly popular trend within
big wheeled trail bikes. It’s easy to see why—the extra plushness up front
means the bike is ready to party in terrain that would make other trail bikes
feel distinctly uncomfortable.
While I had the bike I put it through its paces on the gnarliest trails I could find,
including a day of shuttling the loamy goods at Mt Cheeseman in Craigieburn,
and a day ploughing through the steepest and roughest tracks on offer at the
Christchurch Adventure Park. The bike never missed a beat.
The TR felt remarkably composed and stable through the chunky stuff, even
when riding full downhill trails. Running a single-pivot suspension layout, the
bike held up well through the middle of its stroke, and when getting to the end
of its travel, the bottom out never felt harsh or jarring. The suspension worked
well for a point and shoot style of riding, but the bike still had a good balance of
poppiness and playfulness, to give a fairly neutral feel overall.
With a 66.5-degree head tube angle, the TR isn’t the slackest around, but is a
good balance for a trail bike designed to take on anything. Combined with the
big hoops, I still felt stable and in no risk of going out the front door when the
trail got steep and deep, but it was still responsive in mellower terrain.
So it likes to go down; but what about heading up? Climbing was easier than
expected, in large part due to the steep 76.5-degree seat angle. Pedal bob
was less than expected, though for gravel road grovels I was still reaching for
the climb switch. It’s a comfortable climber I would be happy to pedal about on
an all-day mission.
The bike is a bit like an Instagram model peddling fitness supplements: it’s
sporting a wider than average rear end. Like those Instagram models, some
of you will have no problem with it, while others will find it frustrating. Anyone
whose pedal stroke is slightly off-kilter is likely to find they will have some
issues with heel- and possibly calf-rub on the stays. As someone with a neutral
pedal-stroke, I didn’t find it to be an issue, but even for me there were occa-
sions when I made contact.
The flipside of this width, and some hearty bracing in the rear triangle, is a stiff
frame that loves it when you give it some back-wheel bully. This is no doubt
helped by the short upper suspension linkages and oversized bearings in the
lower pivot, which cuts down on places the frame could flex.
With a stated frame weight of 3.6 kilograms and a sturdy build, this rig is not the
lightest in its class, but out on the trail the TR carries its weight well.
Our size large test bike was on the big side for its size, featuring a roomy
110
475mm reach—but in use the bike never felt oversized or unwieldy (for refer-
ence, the writer is just shy of 6 foot tall, but has orangatang-length limbs).
I was riding the “Essential” build, which retails at $5499 and is the second-most
expensive of the four options available in New Zealand. The spec is solid, but
not flashy—there’s very little you’ll want to change straight out of the box.
Suspension duties were handled by a Fox DPS shock and 36 Float Perfor-
mance fork, both basic but well-performing options. Tinkerers may be frustrat-
ed by the limited adjustability these mid-range bouncers offer, but those happy
to set and forget will get on well with the platform.
The TR rolled on hoops with 30mm wide e*thirteen TRS rims and Formula
hubs. They’re a good performer for a build in this price range, with reasonable
width, but not the lightest or strongest on the market.
I can see why Schwalbe Hans Dampf tyres were spec’d front and rear, but
given the bike’s descending prowess, I’d personally switch to something a bit
gruntier at the front end. One minor niggle was that the wheels do not come
tubeless ready—a must for a bike that can take on the rough stuff with such
confidence. It’s an easy fix though.
A Sram GX Eagle 12-speed drivetrain paired with Shimano SLX brakes seems
like an odd mix of brands for an OEM build, but in practice they worked well
together—I couldn’t fault the performance of either.
The 780mm handlebar and 50mm stem were from Commencal’s in-house
components brand Ride Alpha. I liked the smaller details like good guide marks
for cutting down the bars and orientation marks to line up the stem, simple
details that should be standard, but unfortunately aren’t always.
As far as durability goes, a two-week test is too brief to comment defini-
tively, but there was nothing in the design or spec that made me worry. The
heavy-duty design, including oversize bearings throughout much of the suspen-
sion linkages, and solid spec left me with no reasons for concern.
Commencal is known for its straightforward, burly bikes and contempt for
carbon due to environmental and ethical concerns, and this rig is a textbook
example of the brand’s ethos.
The good: the TR can tackle far burlier terrain than its modest rear travel would
suggest, but is just as happy on more mellow trips as well. A solid spec and
simple design should mean you don’t need to upgrade much or fix much down
the line. That steep seat angle gives the bike good climbing manners.
The not-as-good: that wide rear triangle won’t suit everybody, and it would have
been nice to see a piggyback shock in there given the bike’s otherwise burly
nature. The weight is reasonable given the alloy frame and mid-range spec,
but won’t compete with high-end carbon superbikes. A tubeless ready set-up
would be a nice addition.
SPOKEMAGAZINE.COM
 OB J ETS D’H EART

BANSHEE TITAN
3sixtysports.co.nz
Words Sam Baker | Images Neil Kerr

High-End Aluminium frames aren’t front and centre for many in the mountain Getting on the bike you are instantly aware of its presence. A 29er with a 170mm
bike industry, with everything needing to be carbon this, and carbon that–but Fox 36 up front and a 1265mm wheelbase is always going to feel like a big bike,
Banshee are looking to change the standards. almost intimidating as you know it’s going to be able to go as fast as you would
ever like too, and then some. The Ferrari red colour scheme does nothing to slow
The new Titan is a beast: a 29er featuring 155mm rear travel paired with a
it down – get ready to let your hair down.
170mm fork, it sets to deliver the confidence-inspiring ride we all look for. What
sets it apart from other bikes in its category is the aluminium frame, a well Get it on trail and those preconceptions become apparent, it does like to go fast.
thought out and cleverly engineered puzzle of parts that make this bike twice as I was always intrigued by the longer chainstays and it certainly is different. It took
strong as the previous Rune, but also much lighter. a couple turns to get used to the body position. I tend to use the rear wheel to
turn, and with it now further behind me it stood me up in a couple of bends. I also
First of all, they are using 7-series aluminium which is much lighter, albeit more
noticed that when trying to pick up off small bumps my timing was slightly off, due
expensive than the previous 6-series. These tubes are hydroformed with up to
to the longer wheelbase. As the day wore on it was soon irrelevant and it became
four different thicknesses to minimise weight where needed and add strength
the new norm, because point the nose down a rough section of track and you are
accordingly. To further create the strength they are after, Banshee utilizes 3D
laughing. The attacking position and neutral balance lets the bike work effortless-
forging in the shock cradle and headtube; in technical terms, this aligns all the
ly underneath you, and you can just hang on for the ride. I was seriusly impressed
particles creating a material stronger than billet aluminium. Using this in the key
with the way this bike worked. That linkage is something to behold, and to keep a
strength loading areas keeps the bike strong and the weight extremely low. The
bike of this nature as light as it is, is a true testament to the engineering prowess
build we rode with Maxxis Exo+ tyres and an insert in the rear came in at a svelte
at Banshee. It is nimble & responsive, yet poised and stable, which are very rarely
14.4kgs which for any bike, let alone a bruiser of this calibre, is nothing to turn a
seen in the same sentence, but something Banshee have absolutely nailed.
blind eye at.
The Titan is a brute, but Banshee were well-aware the pedalling ability needing
In keeping with the all new frame design, Banshee spent 3 years of development
to match the downhill performance. With usable sag between 25%-35% and
to get to the current production frame. An all-new linkage dubbed KS2, is specific
more anti-squat in this range, coupled with a 76.75 seat angle in the low, and a
to Banshee itself, which is said to allow for an incredibly supple initial stroke,
steep 77.25 in the neutral setting, it gives you a fair bit of help on those climbs. I
ramping up as the stroke progresses. Coupled with an already progressive air
enjoyed pedalling the Titan more than my 150mm trail bike at home, which blew
shock, this linkage provided an incredibly solid and trustworthy platform. Banshee
my mind. It’s incredibly light so every pedal stroke is rewarded with a spritely
also utilize enduro bearings throughout the linkage which reduces rotational fric-
jump forward, the comfortable head angle maintains light steering while climbing,
tion to nearly zero, creating an incredibly smooth transition throughout the stroke
and the seat angle gives a comfortable position to apply the power. It really is a
and adding to that uber smooth rear end courtesy of the revised KS2 linkage.
joy to climb, and you would be forgiven in forgetting the fire-breathing V8 it has
Banshee have done their homework, and really are forging their own path towards
sheathed away.
developing the best bike they possibly can.
It’s hard to look past this as a bike for those riders lucky enough to have steep
With geometry heading in all sorts of directions recently, it is nice to see Banshee
and rowdy terrain on their doorstep, as this is where it thrives. I would be intrigued
stick to the numbers that work. Everything about this bike is built to inspire confi-
to see what a coil shock would be like on the back: it would be insane in some
dence. The head angle sits at a comfortable 64.5 in the Low setting (courtesy of
sections, but the beauty of the air shock is the support and pop that keeps this
a handy flip-chip in the dropouts), and 65 in the neutral, with the reach at 470mm
bike lively and fun. Each to their own on this one.
in the large we tested. These aren’t boundary-pushing by any means, but what is
noticeably different is the 452mm chainstays. Banshee’s reasoning behind this The only downside I could really find to the Titan was the cable routing. A little
was that the longer front-end puts you in a backseat position and begins to un- more attention to detail in this area would be nice to see, as the rattle is incredibly
weight the front wheel. With the longer rear end moving the rider’s weight into a loud when the going gets rough. But this is an easy fix with a little home DIY.
more central position, a better attacking position is obtained, which I thought was
Frames will be available for $3499, which includes shock and headset, while
a pretty clever way of addressing the problem and in turn created an incredibly
distributors 3Sixty offer custom builds using all your favourite brands. The one we
stable bike. It does mean you aren’t going to manual this girl to the shops and
tested will retail for $9,999, and with every bell and whistle you could ever want it
back, as the balance point is now a lot more precarious.t Yet it's light weight and
leaves little to be desired.
comfortable manner still maintain the fun factor we all desire; it just requires a
little more effort.

SPOKEMAGAZINE.COM
112
 LAST R OLL
75$6+ 25 75($685(
On mountain biking and the parts we hoard
Words Richard Birkby | Image Neil Kerr
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JUDQGVWRQHHGLåFHVWKDWRIIHUWKHGHHSHVWLQVLJKW6RPHWLPHVWKHQXDQFHDQG
detail is found in the smaller things, items left behind, or perhaps in the objects
they kept because they were deemed special, useful, or worth saving.
The recent death of my father prompted an archeological journey of my own re-
FHQWO\FDXVLQJPHWRFRQVLGHUÔZKDWFKDUWVRXUMRXUQH\DVDULGHU",VLWWKHELNHV
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Or is there more subtlety and texture in the little things?
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My father had been riding mountain bikes for a long time and in the process had
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day. Maybe they never would, but you never know right?
The parts included: multiple pump clips that had never been attached to bikes.
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brother had given to him as a recent gift. (Dad was never an enduro-strap type
guy, carrying his pack at all times).
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mano parts, including one for a pre-Hyperglide 6 speed cassette and another for
an Exage Trail under chainstay U-brake.
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modern cassette.
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(Damn those bike industry types and their new so-called standards).

A toe-strap.
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Part-used pads for a variety of rim and disc brakes.
One of those wire hangers that you used to use on cantilever brakes.
Allen bolts of all sizes, lengths and materials, including one purple aluminium bolt
from when purple anodizing was a thing.
Elastomers for both a Girvin Flexstem and a USE seat post.
A set of original (steel) OnZa bar ends.
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history .
Then, in a corner: two KS seat clamp hex bolts, complete with the nuts that always
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of the original M737 SPD pedals, still spinning freely. Real treasure.
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fell down my cheek, while my smile grew. Here was mapped the history of our
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shifting, to the spare key set to the battery on his Bosch-powered e-Bike.
Every piece had played a part in his two-wheeled adventures. I suppose each
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What trash, treasure and stories are there hidden in your parts drawer? And why
are you keeping that old 9 speed cassette anyway?
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