Singletracks Managing Editor Matt Miller joined Singletracks almost six years ago, and today is his last day. As an editor Matt brought a level of professionalism and quality reporting across a wide range of topics from trail advocacy to industry analysis and product reviews. He will surely be missed by our staff, freelance writers and regular readers.

Last week I chatted with Matt on the Singletracks podcast about some of his most memorable articles over the years. The following is an edited transcript from our conversation.

You’ve written a ton for the site and over those years, like, I mean, literally hundreds of articles maybe 1000. I don’t know… I should have counted.

It’s over a thousand maybe.

Oh my gosh, crazy. Obviously it’s impossible to go back and read every one of them but I do want to highlight some of the ones that really come to mind for me. One was an article about the end of the pandemic-induced bike boom. You were one of the first to write about that. A lot of people thought that this crazy demand for bikes was going to keep going but you actually did a really great job interviewing people and coming away with a different conclusion.

I remember talking to some bike shops at that time who had been thrown into the mix and were still expected to keep orders that they had placed during the height of the pandemic, and just seeing the interest in those orders basically evaporate. And so I feel like the bike shops were kind of the first ones to really see this bike boom falling out from under them. We all know now that the industry as a whole is not doing well and, and definitely fell into that trend. I remember that article being a big one and getting way more reads and interest beyond our general mountain bike audience.

This wasn’t an accepted point of view at that time. You were courageous to say that maybe the good times won’t last.

I don’t know if it was veiled optimism from a lot of the brands. Many thought they were going to keep this large percentage of people who picked up riding or mountain biking and cycling in their neighborhoods after the pandemic. But you know once baseball games and bars and everything like that open back up, hopefully some people are still out there riding.

As a journalist you really try to be independent as much as possible and you have been really good at finding out for yourself like, is this true?

Journalism was a third or fourth career for me. I went to journalism school and felt really strongly about being independent doing it for your readers. That is still a very big guiding principle for a lot of my writing.

Yeah, that’s awesome. And you’ve definitely left your mark. Another one of your articles that’s not so serious but was extremely popular was a commentary on a Toyota marketing campaign that included an image of a mountain biker. How did you come across that?

Originally Toyota had posted an image to its Instagram and they were just getting trashed by mountain bikers and mountain bike influencers in the comment section. Obviously this isn’t like hard hitting news, but being a small, independent mountain bike website gives us room to comment on it. And so yeah, I kind of turned it into a news article in the sense that Toyota tried to appeal to mountain bikers by having a photo of this guy or gal or whoever it was, clad in this dirt bike kit. They’re like towering over this bike that looks like a Walmart bike, to be honest.

And it was all black like maybe they were trying to hide what kind of bike it was so that it wasn’t distracting.

Yeah, they probably just took a can of spray paint to it. But the other fun thing is that I own a 4Runner. Many of my friends own 4Runners or Tacomas or Tundras. Toyota is a hugely popular brand with mountain bikers and so it was fun to poke fun at them from the perspective of mountain bikers not really needing to be in the ads. You’re doing a good enough job but your marketing department kind of botched it on this one.

Did you ever hear from anybody at the brand or anything?

No but they came out with follow-up ads were like ‘the gloves are off now’ or like ‘the training wheels are off now’ or something like that. And they posted a more authentic-looking mountain biker. They still had ankle socks. You’re almost there, but maybe I’m just picky about socks, I don’t know.

That’s funny. Another series of articles that you wrote looked at wildfires and how that impacts mountain biking. The coverage wasn’t necessarily mountain-bike specific since obviously this affects a lot of things from recreation to people’s homes and it’s a huge topic and you did a great job researching it.

There was a ton of research and if you live in the Western US or even in the East with all the smoke coming down from Canada, you’re dealing with some trail-related impact from wildfires, whether it’s too smoky to have an enjoyable ride or the forest that you’re trying to ride in is closed because there’s massive fire damage. Or it’s a year or two after the fire has come and gone and you get rainstorms and then erosion and all these things have a big impact on the trail. So learning about forest fires and forest conservation and forest health is still really fascinating to me because it is an ecosystem but it’s also this little economy of all these parts that work together.

I’m interested to know which other stories were your favorites to cover or were there certain topics that you enjoyed the most?

Because I have — I don’t know if I would call it old school but — a rigid standard of journalism influence in my work, I do love trail access reporting. So I reported on the population boom in Colorado and how mountain biking has kind of evolved past some of the old ways of management. That was one of my favorites.

The reporting I did in Copper Harbor after some of the trail closures out there was great. There are so many different stakeholders to talk to and you kind of look at this like here’s what’s going on. Why is the trail closed? Local governments are worried about being sued even though if you talk to lawyers, they weren’t necessarily at risk. And then the question is, is this going to have an effect on the economy, on tourism? I like digging into those stories and having pages and pages of research and trying to figure out how to weave it all together.

There’s a recent one on hunting groups and their opposition to mountain bike trails in Steamboat Springs, Colorado that I wrote in December. That one was interesting to tackle because I’m a new hunter and so seeing the values that hunting groups have and how that interferes with potential new mountain bike trails is a clash of ideals for public land which everybody is entitled to in some aspect.

But I think that my favorite thing honestly was just being at a publication where I can write about almost anything as long as it’s related to mountain biking. So there’s, there’s a number of essays that I wrote and honestly, like, I feel like I got the most valuable or the most heartfelt reader feedback where I get a lot of personal emails thanking me for something I wrote, which is always nice.

For other writers, if you’re willing to open yourself up and be vulnerable to an audience, the audience generally returns the favor. People appreciate that kind of writing and that’s what made me want to be a writer.

I’ve done so many bike reviews that they feel fairly formulaic to turn out but every once in a while you’ll just hit the nail on the head and a review will do really well. Or you review something a little oddball, like an internally geared bike.

I would just say having the ability to write a multitude of different types of articles — essays, opinions, reviews and reporting — and having the ability to connect with readers on every type of writing was my favorite. There are a lot of digital mountain bike publications out there that solely focus on gear and I think it would have gone crazy if I was in that position.

Well you offer great advice for any writer in terms of being open and honest and vulnerable sometimes. Hopefully this is something that your replacement is reading and they’ll be able to pick up the torch and carry it on. What can you share with us about what you’re moving on to next?

I accepted a technical writing job with the Federal Aviation Administration. It seems like a pretty big jump from what I’m doing right now and it definitely is. I would add that I’m a military veteran and if you are a vet, there are pathways to get into the federal government which is notoriously difficult to get into. So it’s a change of pace for me and my wife trying to start a family. It’ll be a really solid foundation for us to have. So I’m excited about it and I’m planning to continue freelancing as long as you guys will have me.

Yeah, absolutely.

As much as I love mountain biking, and as big of a part of my life as it is, it’ll be nice not to have it consume my life for now.

We’ll certainly miss you, and your contributions will be felt here for a long time for sure. And we’re looking forward to having you come back every now and then to share your words with us.

Yeah I appreciate it. It’s been a dream. Eight years ago I decided I’m gonna give this journalism thing a shot and at the time I was going through school a lot of my professors, hardcore newspaper journalists and magazine journalists, were watching the Denver Post fall apart and get acquired by private equity firms and just gutted. And that was happening at every major newspaper across the country. So it was a long shot for me to get any sort of full time journalism job out of school. And looking back I would have loved to get into some sort of newspaper job back then, but then things worked out with Singletracks. I guess it’s not surprising if you look at the way that Singletracks is managed as an independent publication, but it is great to see it doing well in when many publications are not. I think that speaks to independent journalism and smart management. I’m really fortunate to have put in six years in this dream job as a mountain bike journalist and editor. I’m super grateful for the experience.

Singletracks will continue to publish Matt’s final articles over the next couples of weeks.

The article Farewell to the One and Only Matt Miller, Singletracks Managing Editor appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

Singletracks is looking for a full time Managing Editor. Millions of mountain bikers around the world will count on you to help them find the information that will inspire their most epic adventure yet! It’s no small task, and you’ll need the following skills to get the job done right.

• Extensive mountain bike knowledge and a love for all things MTB.
• Mad organization skills and attention to detail.
• Ability to solve problems and learn new skills while juggling multiple ongoing projects.
• A positive attitude and willingness to take direction and work with a team.
• Tech savvy and comfort working in an all-digital environment.
• Knowledge or understanding of SEO.
• Excellent written and verbal communication skills.
• Bike shop experience is a plus; data geeks welcome!

Singletracks Managing Editor

The Singletracks mission is to share the mountain bike information that inspires epic adventures. The Managing Editor is responsible for planning, producing, coordinating, and revising content that will appeal to readers.

Responsibilities

• Plan, source and produce online articles and associated multimedia content on a weekly basis.
• Schedule and publish articles using an editorial calendar.
• Evaluate freelance pitches and move submissions from draft to publication.
• Work closely with the Editor-in-Chief and editorial contributors to meet deadlines and goals associated with content production.
  • Edit articles and make suggestions prior to publication.
  • Discover mountain bike news and stories across the Internet. 
  • Travel to select media events and remote assignments.
  • Create sponsored content for ad partners.
• Be an active participant in the Singletracks online community.

Experience and education

• A portfolio demonstrating 2-4 years of writing experience
• 1+ years experience as an editor
• High quality photography and photo editing experience
• Post-secondary journalism degree a plus

In addition to sourcing, creating and editing content, the Managing Editor is responsible for communicating with readers and partners across a wide variety of topics and forums.

This is a 100% remote, full-time position and the salary will be based on experience. Singletracks doesn’t have a physical office and relies on technology to stay in touch so feel free to roam.

To apply, send an email introducing yourself, along with a resume and relevant portfolio samples to jeff@singletracks.com.

The article Singletracks is Now Hiring for a Managing Editor appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

What makes an ordinary place an “institution”? What gives a place—a restaurant, a record store, a bike shop—that gestalt, that common understanding that this place is special? Well, sure you could say “the people,” but a bike shop with no bikes would be kinda silly. And we all know that it’s not just the bikes/clothes/parts alone because there are plenty of retailers—online and brick and mortar—who will sell you stuff, but certainly don’t qualify as an institution. 

It’s one of those things—you know it when you see it. If you’ve been to Absolute Bikes in Salida, Colorado, odds are you know of which I speak. Yeah, it’s imbued with history. It’s got signed photos and jerseys from Alison Dunlap, Joe Murray, Ned Overend. But that’s not it. Lots of places have that, and frankly, it often just makes them look old, tired, and like their grasping at glory days gone by. Plus, 98.9% of the population doesn’t know or care who Ned Overend is.  

There’s a veritable museum hanging from the ceiling— Fat Chance, Breezer, Fisher, all circa 1980s, all with handy descriptions regarding the build, the intention, the unique things about each one. And it’s hard not to notice how positively archaic they look with a bangin’ new Revel Ranger hanging four inches away from them, but it’s pretty nifty to see the whole evolution of mountain biking right in front of your eyes, all within a 20-foot radius. 

So, they’ve got bikes, and nice ones too. All the modern bling. But they don’t really have road bikes cause honestly, road riding in the Arkansas Valley is just plain poopy (negligible shoulder, big trucks, poopy). From kids bikes to entry level mountain bikes to crème-de-la-crème bank account busters, it’s all here. But that’s still not it. 

Salida, then and now

Enter Shawn Gillis. Owner. Rider. Racer. Dad. Trail designer/builder/advocate/volunteer/philanthropist. Humble bike emissary. The first time I met Gillis was over Labor Day Weekend when a gang of pals and I secured five shuttle spots for the Monarch Crest. This warm, unassuming man does not immediately strike one as a 25-time Leadville finisher, an Ironman competitor in multiple countries, TransAlp, TransAndes, La Ruta finisher, among other things. 

“This summer will be my 27th time for the Leadville 100. This past year I was lucky enough to ride it with both my son and daughter. Cassidy and I rode most everything together and just made it in under the 12 hours.”

Nor would you know unless someone else told you that he has been a major force behind the Salida that mountain bikers love today. Gillis came from Flagstaff, Arizona in 1999 where he owned and managed a bike shop, and bought an old feed barn complete with a grain silo that is home to Absolute and an adjacent restaurant to this day. The building is iconic, and of course has always been on the river, but the riverfront of 1999 is not the same riverfront of today. Many towns across the country once turned their backs to their respective waterfronts, and in the past two decades have fomented a riverfront renaissance. Salida is one of those towns. 

“Salida has really changed over the past decade or so,” says Gillis, and it is a relief to hear this said in an upbeat, positive way. “We now have a trail system, a world class River Park, the Steamplant Convention Center, the Salida Skate Park, an improved Riverside Park with the new Rotary Bandshell, we have an amazing in-town trail system so we can get around on foot or on a bike.”  

So often when these words are said—“X place/town/city has really changed…” it is with a shake of the head, and more often than not you can be sure that a blast of bitter nostalgia is heading your way. And it must be human nature because you can surely remember your elders pissing and moaning “well when I was a kid…{insert dependable diatribe here},” and I would be a liar to pretend such sentiments have never escaped my own mouth. 

And yes, runaway real estate prices have found Salida, just like any other desirable location. But Gillis points to the fact that Salida kids are returning to Salida after college, not just leaving this small mountain town ASAP, never to return. Cause there’s stuff to do here now. The local trails group Salida Mountain Trails (SMT) did not focus solely on mountain bikers when building trails, and as a result, there is a large contingent of trail-runners sluicing through the S Mountain and Methodist trails. The rafting, kayaking, fishing and water sports are world class. Monarch ski area is 25 minutes away; Denver 2.5 hours. 

This proximity to the Front Range does not explain why most Absolute Bikes customers hail from there, cause you can be sure that Denver, Golden, Boulder, Colorado Springs etc. all have bike shops, and I’d hazard a guess that they are good ones to boot. It’s back to that gestalt, the secret sauce for which no recipe exists. 

“Aside from the Monarch Crest, there really wasn’t much to ride here 25 years ago. Tenderfoot and Methodist Mountain trail systems didn’t exist, and what was there were mostly social trails.” 

Building a destination bike shop

So the first few years at Absolute, business could be pretty quiet. Concerningly quiet. Town was full of cruiser bikes and Gillis was careful in the first years to stock only bikes with a lower price point. But the community rallied around its collective desire for more trails close to town–on S and Methodist Mountains. 

Gillis is a founding member of SMT and remains on the board of directors to this day. SMT has been working with the Bureau of Land Management (BLM), the U.S. Forest Service, and the City of Salida to plan, design and build a high-quality, top-notch system of trails both on S Mountain (so named for the giant “S” in white concrete that can be seen for miles) and Methodist Mountain on the opposite side of the valley. Both trail systems are rideable from town, though S Mountain is closer, located approximately 345 pedal strokes from the front door of the shop. 

“We are in the business of saving vacations” says Mike Franco, store manager at Absolute. “We understand that people put a lot of time, effort and money into coming to ride for the weekend, for a week, and a broken bike can destroy all of that pretty quickly.” 

Case in point, over the Labor Day weekend of which I spoke, I had loaned my bike to a friend for a few hours and a tip-over had snapped the dropper lever. She was mortified. I, on the other hand, was blissfully ignorant because it was ready for pickup before I even knew what had transpired. Gillis and Franco both pride themselves on creating and retaining a welcoming atmosphere, one that does not condescend, as far too many shops do. 

“It just doesn’t make sense to us that we’d want to make our customers feel dumb” says Franco, who’s got a passable “bro” halo and surprises me with stories of being victim of just such behavior through the years. 

Absolute has more women on staff than many similar sized shops, and not all of them are front-of-house recommending cute shorts. And not that there’s anything wrong with cute shorts. I like them, and I want to know where they are. But these ladies can sell you shorts and bleed your brakes, replace your cable housing, and probably wallop you on the trail, but in a really nice way. 

More than just sales and service

The shop shuttle to the Monarch Crest is a staple of the business, though not one that showers them in coin. “The shuttle is more about making friends than making money” says Gillis, and while that may sound trite and a touch saccharine, think about how much time for authentic connection a 30-minute drive provides. I doubt that Gillis consciously equates shuttle time into dollars—that would feel somehow crass, even for a business owner who needs to pay suppliers, employees, and the heating bill. You can tell that his low-key love for this place, these trails, bikes and where they can take us is genuine, and that he wants you to love it too. And yes, he wants to sell you a bike, but it truly feels secondary. 

Gillis, 58, wants to work less and ride more (hallelujah to that…), but the shop’s got big plans in 2024. A redesign of the service area a la the “open kitchen” layout in a fancy, high-end restaurant so you can see the magic unfolding. A new demo program where you pick tasty bikes from a menu then go shred on trails 34 seconds from the front door. Return, exchange, repeat…but maybe with a dip in the Arkansas River 12 seconds from the back door in between laps, and/or a burger and beer at the High Side conveniently located under the same roof as Absolute. 

And if you are a bike nerd/geek, you will want to check out the hanging collection that Gillis is clearly proud of.

“When we moved to Salida in 1999 this building had pretty tall ceilings so it was easier to display and we started with just a few bikes, and this allowed us to create some good conversations with people. Over the years as we did store remodels we could display much easier and add more bikes. Right now it is at about 56 bikes. We add or change 1-2 bikes per year.”

A few of Gillis’ personal favorites include a 1985 Cunningham, the American Breezer, and a Manitou FS, one of the earliest full suspension bikes. The Cunningham was one of the first bikes collected and he notes that it took several years to find the parts to get it close to period correct.

“Many times people visit bike shops and look at the new items and don’t really understand the amazing things that came from the early pioneers and designers. There was a lot of experimentation and broken things to get to where we are now, and many of these bikes show that progression.”

Gillis will be tackling the Vapor Trail 125 for the fourth time in September. 125 miles, 15,658 feet of climbing, the race starts at 10:00 p.m. on the F Street Bridge in Salida and finishes at…Absolute Bikes. Gillis’ 22-year-old son Camden finished this race in 17 hours, 19 minutes in 2023, and they will both be racing in 2024. 

“I hope to finish with a smile and have a great time…Sometimes people go to such extremes they forget to have fun and then they are a total wreck afterwards. My goal would be around 20 hours if all goes well. As for the father/son aspect, I hope to ride together in the neutral roll out and hear about where Camden is as I go through the Aid Stations hours later…”

Some places try to become instant institutions. Add a big name and an even bigger dollop of cash and that should be the recipe, right? Not so much. Like a freewheeling cook taking on the meticulous and fussy task of baking, the biscuits won’t rise, the cake will collapse, and the pizza dough will resemble a board. I still can’t pinpoint what makes this shop different, likely because it’s a magical confluence of people, bikes, community, location and probably some fairy dust. So go get some cute shorts, get walloped by a shop girl, and say hi to Shawn. He says he’s gonna ride more and work less but he’ll probably be there anyway. 

The article An Absolute Institution–Absolute Bikes in Salida, Colorado appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

The West Hill neighborhood in Albany, New York is a difficult place for a child to grow up. High crime rates and a lack of green space keep most of its youth indoors, robbing them of the joys of being outdoors. But one program is seeking to change that and give area children the opportunity to discover the joy of riding bikes.

To find out more, we spoke to Gregory Sheldon, the program director of WheelsUp, Valerie Johnson, the Albany County Youth Bureau Director, and Skye van der Laan, a local mountain biker and volunteer trail steward for WheelsUp.

The progression of a great idea

WheelsUp’s origins can be traced back to the work the Eden’s Rose Foundation started doing in Albany, New York in 2016 when it created the Albany Victory Gardens with the goal of teaching residents how to grow their own food. That project made a big impact on the area’s youth.

Shortly thereafter, the foundation started a youth development program that gave area kids jobs working in nature. The children the foundation worked with did not have much access to green spaces.

Then, in 2021, the foundation put on an Earth Day event where youth could complete different tasks, such as weeding a garden or painting a beehive. For every task they completed, the youth were given a sticker to put on a scorecard. At the end of the day, they could turn in a full card in exchange for a free bike. Sheldon said the bikes were donated by a local recycling program and members of the foundation had tuned them up.

Upon seeing the joy in their faces and noticing how much they started riding them after that day, Sheldon said the idea for WheelsUp was born. “It was an easy way to make a positive effect in these kids’ lives. It gave them wings.”

Local businesses and the county helped the program take shape

After the bikes were given out, Sheldon saw there was a need to teach the youth how to maintain and repair the bikes they had received. “We created community pop-up events where we teach kids how to work on bikes. That was the second piece of the project.”

He also recognized that the youth needed riding gear too. “We had a local law firm donate helmets and lots of other local partners have come in and helped as well.”

Then, the county provided financial assistance to the program. Valerie Johnson heard about the WheelsUp program during a stakeholder meeting. The Albany County Youth Bureau, which funds youth development programs in the county, had received money from the state to create programming to help deter gun violence. She was looking for programming that met the gun violence prevention criteria and WheelsUp did. “The program has a positive effect on the neighborhood. It gave out bikes to kids who could never afford a bike.”

The program also acquired property that was perfect for mountain biking

The Albany County Land Bank Corporation helped the Eden’s Rose Foundation purchase a 50-acre parcel of land at the north end of the West Hill neighborhood. The foundation wasn’t the only one who had been interested in the property. Skye van der Laan, a local mountain biker, had been eyeing the property for a few years. He had tried to find out who owned it, but the title records were murky, and it appeared the property was abandoned.

Van der Laan had built 3 miles of “modern old school” singletrack on the property. “It’s narrow and has lots of exposure, but I built it in a way that’s both sustainable and fun.” The property has great topography for mountain biking, he says.

While building trails on the property, van der Laan ran into Sheldon. Sheldon asked him where the trails had come from and van der Laan admitted he was the builder. The two then started talking about Sheldon’s ideas for the WheelsUp program.

Van der Laan had been inspired by Eliot Jackson’s Grow Cycling Foundation and wanted to get local kids out into the woods to build trails for themselves.

“The local kids have mad bike skills, but they have never been on dirt.” He volunteered to be the trail steward for the property and teach local youth about trail building.

Sheldon was glad to have Van der Laan onboard because he felt it was important to give neighborhood youth access to the outdoors. “I spent my youth riding in the woods, building jumps, and racing with friends.” In contrast, most of the youth in the West Hill neighborhood had spent very little time in nature.

“Our kids are largely afraid of the wood,” he said. “It takes a bit for them to adjust to it.”

Building a team atmosphere to all of mountain biking

According to Sheldon, the motto of the WheelsUp program is Learning, Working, Riding. The program has developed a training process for the youth who participate in the program.

Young riders get the opportunity to ride the trails with adult chaperones who teach them the basic skills. As they get older, these riders are then taught how to work on the trails. Adult members of the program will walk with the youth on the trails, showing them how to build and maintain them. And, starting this year, Sheldon said that youth in the program will also have the opportunity to race. WheelsUp is forming a team to compete in the New York Interscholastic Cycling League, which is affiliated with the National Interscholastic Cycling Association (NICA). Sheldon said the program recognized the importance of developing a competitive model where kids could participate in outdoor sports. 

A breath of fresh air

Sheldon said that WheelsUp has given out 450 bikes to youth since its first bike giveaway. All the youth who received them earned the bikes by doing community service.

But giving kids bikes is only part of the program. WheelsUp is also teaching neighborhood youth how to maintain and repair their bikes, giving them an opportunity to enjoy the wonders of mountain biking, and showing them how to build and maintain sustainable trails. It also provides the youth with an opportunity to be in a safe space away from the violence that negatively impacts their lives.

In Sheldon’s view, WheelsUp can make a big impact on the neighborhood youth. “Although it might seem like a small, mundane thing to get kids together on bikes and out into the woods, it provides real solutions for the unprecedented problems the youth in our neighborhood are facing.”

The article The WheelsUp Program Is Showing Albany, NY Youth The Joy and Wonder of Riding Bikes appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

The Georgia Cycling Association recently announced a new mountain bike program for kids in third through fifth grade called Trail Rangers. Designed to “provide a mindful and fun environment for children to learn, play, and connect with others through the joys of mountain biking,” the program is set to launch in spring of 2025.

Supported in part by the Chestnut Family Foundation and the Atlanta Falcons Youth Fund, volunteer-led groups will participate in a 10-week program with an opportunity to meet up for statewide events.

“We believe that all children should have access to resources that enable them to be healthy, build self-confidence, and enjoy life,” said Chestnut Family Foundation trustee Ben Chestnut in a release.

In 2022 the Chestnut Family Foundation announced a $1M donation to MTB Atlanta for various trail projects around the metro area, including a newly constructed Velosolutions pump track at Allatoona Creek Park.

The Georgia Cycling Association, a high school mountain bike program, was founded in 2013. In 2015 the organization added a middle school program.

More information about the Trail Rangers and opportunities for forming or joining a group can be found online.

The article Elementary-age Kids MTB Program Planned for Georgia Cycling Association appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

One thing that online bike shops will never deliver is a sense of local community. Some of the best bike shops offer not just a place to buy stuff or to get advice and repairs, but also a place to hang out. For many, the local bike shop is a third place between home and work.

Does your local bike shop sell coffee or beer? *

• Just coffee
• Just beer
• Coffee and beer
• Neither

Submit

How much time do you spend just hanging out at your bike shop? Tell us about your bike shop in the comments below!

The article Does Your Local Bike Shop Serve Coffee and/or Beer? appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

It doesn’t feel like a lot of time has passed since Rocky Mountain released the last Instinct trail bike in the spring of 2021–almost exactly three years ago. But three years is a lot of time when it comes to technology in the bike industry and Rocky’s latest full-suspension trail bike implements all of those changes.

2024 Rocky Mountain Instinct key specs

• 150/140mm travel front/rear
• Geometry: 64° head tube angle, 77° effective seat tube angle
• Four-position flip chip plus a rear axle chip and adjustable headset
• Internal frame storage plus UDH compatible
• Weight: 30.8lb as tested (C70 build)
• Price: $2,899 (alloy) to $10,599 (carbon)
• Buy from JensonUSA

We’ll start with what hasn’t changed on the new Instinct. The bike is still the brand’s go-to, all-around trail bike with 140mm of travel in the rear and a 150mm fork. Otherwise, there is a lot of change, including the geometry and new features throughout the frame.

On the geometry front, sizes XS and S are still available as a 27.5″ bike, and sizes S through XL are available as a 29er.

The Instinct has the Ride-4 system, with four geometry settings in the flip-chip.

Take a medium in it’s neutral setting, and you’ll get a 64° head tube angle, a 77° seat tube angle, a short seat tube length for long droppers, 455mm of reach, and a 1,227mm wheelbase. For the most part, the bike has become lower, longer, and more slack (with a steeper seat tube angle).

That’s almost 2° more slack in the HTA, with just under a half-degree steeper in the STA, and a reduction of 7mm in the reach with a 18mm growth in the wheelbase.

There is a flip chip at the rear axle still with a 10mm length adjustment. The rear center length is still standardized across sizes, (437-447mm) but the chip gives riders the option to throw it in a shorter or longer setting depending on their size or if they’d rather opt for more stability or playfulness.

Rocky Mountain also gives the Instinct an adjustable headset to modify the reach by 5mm.

One big change on the new frame is the addition of a frame storage space, and in true Canadian fashion they’ve branded it as the PenaltyBox 2.0. The second version of the storage system, first seen on the recently updated Slayer, is only available on carbon models and has a hinged system that doubles as a water bottle mount. Inside, it comes with a custom tool wrap and a concealed compartment for an AirTag.

Another big jump is the addition of SRAM UDH compatibility and SRAM Transmission builds.

Builds and pricing

The Instinct comes in six carbon builds and three aluminum builds.

Pricing starts at $2,899 for an Alloy 10 model and the builds top at at $10,499 for the Carbon 99 edition.

The A10 build includes a RockShox Recon Silver RL, a RockShox inline Deluxe Select shock, Rocky Mountain components, Shimano wheels, and an X-Fusion dropper post.

The highest C99 build is specced with RockShox Flight Attendant electronically controlled suspension, SRAM Code brakes, SRAM X0 Eagle Transmission drivetrain, and DT Swiss XMC carbon wheels.

Our test model is the C70, a fully carbon frame build with a Fox 36 Performance Elite with Grip 2 damper and a Fox Float X shock, a Shimano XT groupset, and Race Face Turbine R wheels with DT Swiss 370 hubs. The bike retails for $6,499. It weighs 30.8lb with tubes; pretty admirable for this kind of trail bike.

One thing worth noting is that pricing seems rather fair on the latest models. When we tested the Instinct C50 in 2021, it retailed at $5,549. The 2024 Instinct C50 costs $5,799. It’s certainly increased in price, but considering it’s three years later and there are some notable new frame features, the increase is negligible.

In 2021, I’d noted the $800 (~17%) increase between the previous generation and the new model. With only a $250 (4%) increase this time, it may be one other sign that the general interest in mountain biking has returned back to normal levels and prices have fallen back to earth.

On the trail

Early March bike launches are difficult to accommodate for me as it’s still full-on snow season in Colorado, but we have had a fairly mild winter and I have spent a little bit of time on the new Instinct. Funny enough, it’s almost three years to the day the last one was released and so far it seems like it’s an improvement.

Reviewer profile height: 173cm (5’8″) weight: 75kg (170lb) testing zone: Colorado Front Range

Notably, the last version I reviewed, a C50, had only an inline Fox DPS shock on it which didn’t really match the Instinct’s capability. Maybe it did back then; looking back now, the last version’s geometry was still fairly conservative with a nearly 66° HTA in the neutral setting and this version slackens out by almost 2°.

Off the bat, the head angle change isn’t too noticeable. The 2024 Instinct tracks well on the climbs with minimal handlebar sway and though the geometry has gotten much more aggressive it still feels like a nimble trail bike, though it does have a heavier-hitting feel than the average trail bike. I find that is usually the case with Rocky Mountains. They tend to have a bit of an over-biked feel that I appreciate on the descents.

The suspension feels very supportive under pedaling power and in compressions leading up to a jump or coming off of a drop. I don’t want to say too much just yet as I’ve only had one ride on it, but keep an eye out for an updated full review here in a month or two.

The article The 2024 Rocky Mountain Instinct Adds Frame Storage, Adjustability, and Aggressive Geo [First Ride] appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

It was the middle of the afternoon by the time Matteo and I left Huehuetenango, Guatemala, riding south on the Pan-American Highway. We’d been riding together for a week or two. We met in Oaxaca, a city in southern Mexico, and again in San Cristobal de las Casas, both of us making our way south by bicycle. We’d make it to Patagonia in a few months, we hoped, in time to catch the tail end of the South American summer. That was the plan. But progress was slow-going. 

We were sick and tired and sluggish. I was coming down with some kind of flu, and Matteo had it worse than I did. He’d been diagnosed with salmonella and typhoid and some mysterious stomach parasite back in San Cris, where he’d been laid up for the better part of a month. By the time I rolled into town, he was beginning to recover and ready to get back on his bike. But he was still feeling off. On top of that, it was the middle of June, and the Central American rainy season was well underway. We’d been getting drenched nearly everyday since crossing the border into Guatemala. Had we been on the coast, the rain would have been a welcome respite from the heat. In the highlands of northern Guatemala, more than a mile above the sea, it was bitterly cold.

The Pan-American Highway is choatic, always busy with traffic. The stretch of pavement on which Matteo and I rode, lined to our right by a mountainside forested by Guatemalan fir and Mexican elm and Central American walnut, and to our left by expansive views of distant peaks and valleys shrouded in mist, is just one segment of the road network that stretches some 19,000 miles from Prudhoe Bay, Alaska to Ushuaia, Argentina. El fin del mundo. The end of the world. It’s as far south as you can travel overland in the Americas, the southernmost city in the world. It’s a part of the allure of a trip like this, a worthy destination; part of the reason why folks like Matteo and I travel the path. Some travel the path in Sprinter vans decked out with roof racks full of adventure gear, apartments on wheels. Some travel it on motorcycles. Some, like Matteo and I, travel the path on bicycles. We met one woman who, believe it or not, was traveling the route on foot.

I don’t know if there was a speed limit on that stretch of the Pan-Am, south of Huehuetenango, but there didn’t seem to be. Most worrisome were the semi-trucks. We’d seen the drivers of these big rigs in roadside tiendas since we’d been on the highway, two dozen empty beer bottles scattered across the table in front of them. “Amigos,” one of them said. He lifted a key to his nose, probably the key to his truck, and snorted an imaginary powder. “No, gracias,” we said. That scene played and replayed in my mind, every time I heard one of the trucks approaching from behind and accelerating, the engine roaring like some mythical beast before breezing past me like a train and hauling ass around the next bend in the road, looking liable to tip over. Some did. Just the day before we’d seen a semi lying on its side by the side of the road, rotting fruits and vegetables scattered about the ditch. The road had no shoulder, and sometimes, the trucks would pass just inches from our handlebars, going God-only-knows how fast.

The drivers of the camper vans and pickup trucks and sedans and motorcycles were only a little more courteous.

It started to rain, as it tended to do in the late afternoon. I pulled off the road onto a stretch of gravel and pulled on my rain parka. Matteo had gifted it to me back in San Cristobal, and another cyclist had gifted it to him a few weeks earlier. “I’m probably going to regret this,” Matteo had said as he handed me the parka.

Matteo rode on ahead of me, shirtless and without a helmet, his long brown hair wet and slicked to his shoulders by the rain. He wore baggy black mountain bike shorts, the kind you might see riders sporting while hitting jumps and drops at the bike park. His arms are covered in tattoos, but I couldn’t see them as he climbed on up the slope and disappeared over a distant hill. He has an almost supernatural ability to attack climbs without slowing his cadence or shifting gears. I usually found him waiting for me at the top of the climb.

The rain fell harder. The air grew colder and cloudier. I began to shiver. I felt weak. I could only crawl up the mountain at a pathetic pace, and I felt like I was going to retch up my breakfast of huevos rancheros any second now. My phone was dead too, and I didn’t know how many miles remained between us and our tentative destination of Quetzaltenango.

One mile at a time, I thought.

. . .

“What happened to you?” Matteo asked, an hour or two later, as I stepped into a little roadside tienda made of plywood and sheet metal, against which rain drummed in a cacophony so loud I could hardly hear him speak.

“I feel like shit,” I said. I sat down and dressed in all my layers—rain pants, down jacket, rain jacket, poncho. Still I couldn’t warm up, couldn’t stop shivering.

“I was getting worried,” Matteo said. “I thought something happened to you, dude.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, like you got hit by a car or something.”

“Not today,” I said with a laugh. “Those semis though…” I shook my head.

“We’ll be off the highway soon,” Matteo said. We were getting close to Lake Atitlan, a popular and stunningly beautiful tourist destination where we planned on resting up for a few days, but as far as I was concerned, we weren’t getting close enough. He looked down at the empty plate in front of him, smeared with what remained of his rice and eggs and refried beans. “I already ate,” he said.

I had no appetite—all my stomach seemed to tolerate was Haribo gummy bears—but I ordered some food anyway. A few semi-truck drivers walked in and sized us up and figured those must be our bikes out front. We must have looked like a pretty sorry lot, because the men bought us each a cup of coffee, and the woman running the tienda brought us two cups of hot chocolate, free of charge. We paid her anyway. We sat and sipped our chocolate caliente and waited for the storm to pass.

. . .

The storm never did pass. It was getting dark, and we needed to find a place to pitch our tents for the night. We looked for a hotel on our apps—iOverlander and Google Maps—but the nearest was in Quetzaltenango, nearly 30 miles away. We wouldn’t make it that far by sundown. The sun already was down. We looked for a local bomberos, a fire station, on our maps. We’d spent a few nights in a few fire stations in the preceding weeks, and found them to be a reliable last-ditch resort to escape a night of camping in the rain. The firefighters always welcomed us; they never turned us away. But there were no bomberos to be found. It was dark now. We’d be riding by headlamp; a good way to get yourself killed on the Pan-Am Highway, I thought.

“Discuple,” Matteo said to the woman running the tienda. Excuse me. He spoke better Spanish than I did, and he did most of the talking. He asked her if there was anywhere nearby where a couple of weary travelers could spend the night. I’m paraphrasing. The woman made some phone calls, and she connected us with the local pastor, who said we could sleep in the warehouse of the local church. Beggars can’t be choosers. 

The church was a few miles down the road. We rode the final miles in the rain, the pavement smooth and slick and illuminated by headlights that flashed and faded away in the darkness. We kept our headlamps on pulse mode, hoping the strobing lights would alert drivers to our presence and deter them from running us over. Sometimes narrowly, they did.

We pulled off onto a road to the right of the highway and climbed a final hill to the town church, where the Father greeted us and unlocked the doors to the warehouse, just across the street from the church, and let us inside. The warehouse was a long and narrow building with a floor made of concrete and a roof made of sheet metal. It looked like an empty gymnasium. A few dim light bulbs hung from the ceiling beams, and jumbled heaps of old school desks and tables and chairs were piled against one wall, stacked from the floor to the roof. 

We thanked the Father excessively. He wished us a good night and asked us to lock the doors up behind us when we left in the morning. Then he left us. We pitched our tents on the concrete, so as to keep the mosquitos and rodents from feasting on us in our sleep. We tossed our gear into our tents and grabbed a couple chairs and a table and made a little dining room for ourselves. The scene looked like the set of a play, a low-budget production. I ate a bag of gummy worms and boiled some water with my camp stove and made some tea. We were pale and cold, and dark bags lined our eyes in semi-circles. We looked something like sailors suffering from scurvy.

“My stomach is killing me,” Matteo said. He rose and walked to the corner and lined a small trash bin with a plastic bag, a few of which we kept on hand for desperate times like these. You never know when you might need one. Tucked under his arm was a roll of toilet paper.

I turned my chair around and put my headphones in and cranked up the volume, thinking of better days.

It was a miserable day, but it was beautiful in a way. It was a reminder that most people are good and decent human beings who are happy to help a human being in need. It was a reminder that most days, at the end of the day, things tend to work out alright. It was a reminder that one of the few things that are certain in life is that the future is uncertain. That day, as dismal and trying as it was, taught me a lesson in making peace with uncertainty.

The article Bikepacking in Guatemala, I Found Peace (and Shelter) in Uncertainty appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

It wasn’t a childhood spent outdoors that got Sam Maddaus into thru-hiking and long-distance bikepacking. He didn’t camp or hike much as a kid. It wasn’t necessarily his time as a U.S. Navy officer either, or his lifelong thirst for fitness.

Maddaus, now about a third of the way into a 15,000 mile bike trip from the roof of Alaska to the tip of Argentina, became hooked on self-supported endurance journeys after feelings of helplessness when he lost his left leg below the knee in a traumatic motorcycle wreck.

Life as an amputee

Maddaus grew up in Minneapolis before attending the Naval Academy and commissioning as an officer. He deployed multiple times, but in 2017 when he was stationed in San Diego, he crashed his motorcycle. He had a compound fracture in his fibula and tibia, 23 broken bones in his foot and his achilles tendon was ripped from his foot.

In hindsight, he says, he should have let the leg go then, but he wasn’t ready. After 13 surgeries, infections and sepsis, and reaching a 108° fever, he realized it was time.

He left the Navy in 2020. Coming from a close, mission-driven culture like the military, he wasn’t sure what to do when his time in service ended so he headed to Guatemala to work for a nonprofit trying to establish a prosthetics clinic for amputees in the country.

“Those first few years, I couldn’t walk more than maybe a mile without being in a fair amount of pain, especially in my low back,” he said.

Maddaus could hardly walk to the store to buy water or take his dog around the block. And that feeling of ineptitude crept up on him and began to haunt.

In Guatemala he met a Dutch traveler who had hiked the Pacific Crest Trail. He recalled a rack mate in boot camp who had hiked the Appalachian Trail too–nothing but the hiker, their pack full of belongings and hundreds of miles to cover. It sounded like the perfect goal for him to regain his feeling of independence.

“Sometimes I wonder if it was the frustration and how little progress I felt like I was making that pushed me into doing the PCT, which sounds like some backwards logic, but I was just so sick of feeling handicapped all the time and constantly needing help.”

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A new trail

Maddaus started the PCT in March of 2022. If you’ve seen the film Wild, starring Reese Witherspoon, or read the book by Cheryl Strayed, the beginning of his trip might sound familiar. It was discouraging, painful and slow going. His limb, which at the time used a prosthetic held by a powerful suction, suffered skin infections and was frequently rubbed raw down to the tendons underneath.

“But I just kept showing up and tried to hike everyday,” he said. Before long he was hitting 10-, 20-, and 25-mile days. After a three-day string of 20+ miles, he knew he could finish.

It was early on in the Pacific Crest Trail in the deserts of California when he came across a bikepacking video of someone’s trip from Vancouver to Argentina. That early into his 2,600 mile hike, Maddaus knew what his next journey would be: the 15,000-20,000 mile ride from Alaska to Tierra del Fuego.

After completing the PCT in the summer of 2022, Maddaus returned to Minneapolis to prepare. He worked as a server in a restaurant and a personal trainer to save up money, bought a bike, and started a GoFundMe. He hadn’t owned a bike since high school, so finding the right one took some research, but he landed on a Salsa Cutthroat, a much acclaimed bikepacking rig. In between work and researching the route, he spent more time in the gym and practicing yoga.

The piece he really needed to dial in though was his prosthetic. A suction-fitted prosthetic with a liner between his limb and the device wouldn’t cut it on this ride.

“I kind of knew that my physical ability wasn’t going to be the limit, it was going to be issues with my prosthetic or my residual limb. The issues on the PCT were always skin issues and infections, and then pain at the bottom of my limb from impact or constant friction and rubbing and tearing the skin open. Most of my concerns were along those lines and not so much whether or not I could [do it] physically or if my cardio was good enough to do it.”

For the ride he switched to a pin socket, which clicks in to his limb and removes the need for a liner between the limb and prosthetic–no more bunching and build up behind his knee. Botox injections in his limb helped reduce sweating. He also got a more durable foot, after seeing the salt and soil destroy more than one on the PCT. After that, he was ready to go.

On the road again

Maddaus started in Deadhorse, Alaska in August of 2023 and rode east toward Canada along the Alaska Range into the Yukon territory and down into British Columbia.

“Alaska and Canada was its own beast,” he said, calling it “isolated and a way more raw experience. Which, I really love. That’s kind of the scene that draws me in the most on these trips, is a good four or five day push of some real quiet.”

He traced the coast from Vancouver and through Washington and Oregon came inland along the Eastern Sierras. As he neared Mexico, he steered back to the coast and rode along the Baja Divide. It’s mostly been a mix of paved and gravel roads, but he’s finding more singletrack now along the peninsula. When we spoke, he had pulled into Todos Santos, Mexico, near the tip of Baja. After a flight to Florida for a friend’s wedding over a weekend, he’ll return to Baja, ferry to the mainland and head south to Guatemala where he plans to spend some time with the nonprofit he worked for again before continuing to Argentina.

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Reciprocating inspiration

Maddaus is averaging about 100km a day he says (40-50 miles).

“I switched to kilometers in Canada,” he said. “It made me feel a little better talking about a hundred rather than fifty.”

And though he’s covering far more mileage than he did on the PCT he’ll gladly opt for burning pedals up steep climbs over the relentless thudding of backpacking.

“Biking feels way more accessible to me as an amputee.”

In the mornings, he starts with a coffee, the only reason he carries a camp stove anymore, he says, and a 15 minute deep breathing session inspired by Wim Hof. That and yoga remind him to take the day as it comes and not get wrapped up in a daily mileage goal.

Maddaus’s motivation comes and goes. Bikepacking has been much more of a solo endeavor compared to the Pacific Crest Trail, where he and other hikers leapfrogged each other and saw one another frequently on the trail.

“It’s nice at times, and then times you wish you had some other people in the suck with you.”

Frequently he conjures up an experience he had in his hospital room in San Diego before his amputation. Maddaus was arguing with the doctors so he could hang on to his leg. A volunteer at the hospital would pop in and out of his room and check on Maddaus. The volunteer– an instructor at the Navy’s explosive ordnance disposal dive school– was a picturesque example of a special operations team member: smooth, athletic, and motivated.

He had also lost his leg in a motorcycle wreck. To Maddaus, the amputation didn’t seem to hold him back.

“I think about that guy all the time even though it was such a brief interaction,” he said. “But it was a big deal to see somebody who, you know, I was excited by the things he was doing. He was still diving, parachuting, all this stuff. I think having this image of someone who was getting after it with his leg and to do so competently, that was a big deal.”

“Maybe if I can be that image for somebody else, that would be a cool feeling.”

As Maddaus pedals along from one country to the next, he posts updates on his Instagram account. Friends and followers comment on his progress and tell him how he’s an inspiration and touched their lives or the life of another amputee.

It would seem he has already become that image.

The article Sam Maddaus Turned a Lost Limb into a Life of Adventure appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

Brandon Semenuk is back at it with this surreal edit with just the right vibes. From the video description:

In the heart of Alberta’s flatlands lies a hidden realm where prehistoric giants once roamed. We present you with “Afterlife,” a mountain bike film set against the backdrop of this jurassic landscape. Take a ride with us through this strange and unfamiliar earth!

• Rider: Brandon Semenuk
• Editing: Isaac Wallen
• Cinematography: Isaac Wallen, Nic Genovese
• Additional Cinematography: Anthony Vitale
• Builders: Evan Young, Justin Wyper, Kane Boyce
• Photography: Toby Cowley

The article AFTERLIFE Featuring Brandon Semenuk [Video] appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

At the beginning of December, Santa Cruz announced that after 16 years, Greg Minnaar, the winningest rider in World Cup downhill racing history, would no longer ride for the brand. For weeks, the rumor mill was rife with speculation on where the greatest downhill racer of all time would be landing. The answer, finally, was Norco.

On January 9,  Norco announced the new partnership on their Instagram page with an image of Minnaar in a Norco hat. “Hello, Greg. The new captain of the Norco Factory Team and mentor to our junior development program,” the caption read.

We sat down with Minnaar to hear his plans for the 2024 race season and to learn more out about his move from Santa Cruz after more than 15 years with the brand.

A new role at Norco

In many ways, Norco has handed Minnaar the keys to the race team, allowing him to make it his own. He’s already hired a slew of support staff and made some sponsor changes. One of the more significant changes was Norco’s switch to Fox Suspension, the brand Minnaar rode during his Santa Cruz tenure.

“[Norco told me], ‘We want to have the fastest team in the world with the fastest bike. So, can you set this up for us? Can you give us what you would see as an ideal dream team, how you would want to set it up, the staff, implementation of input from trackside, and everything else?’” Minnaar said. 

And he was happy to oblige. The plan is to push forward with current Norco racers, Gracey Hemstreet and Lucas Cruz, with the addition of one more Norco employee, engineer Kirk McDowall. 

“We’ve got Kirk, who’s the fastest engineer in the world. From a team side, we can definitely lean on him for a lot of the bike suspension,” Minnaar said, recognizing the potential advantage of having an engineer who is able to race at World Cup levels. “He does a lot of testing with our suspension guru Colin Ryan. So, yeah, it’s pretty exciting.”

Not only is Minnaar looking to the upcoming race season, but he is also looking to establish the future of Norco racing. This future starts with Minnaar and his current teammates, Hemstreet and Cruz, and bleeds into the junior team they are building.

With one contract ending and another beginning, Minnaar mentioned that things are still solidifying with the junior team. “We’ve got quite a few juniors that we’ve scouted,” Minnaar shared. “I imagine we’re going to bring all these riders into a Norco team camp where we will be able to share knowledge from the pro riders, not only myself but [Hemstreet] and [Cruz] as well.”

Minnaar is excited to provide these young riders a platform to race at the highest level. “It gives kids a chance to join the company in the early stages and grow with the brand. Then, hopefully, one day, have them racing the World Cup on the factory team. I mean, that’s the dream, right? And if we can do that, then that’s really cool.”

The next step for Minnaar and the Norco team is to get more riding time. “The short-term goal is to get this team ready for Fort William. We’ve got some testing. We’ve got some team setup to get ready,” Minnaar said. 

And while he recognized that he hadn’t spent an incredible amount of time testing his new Norco, Minnaar sang the bike’s praises. “It’s only been a couple of days on the bike, [but it] just worked really well. The bike was incredible. You know, they’ve got an incredible bunch of engineers that have built this bike. And so I feel like this is a good chance to really excel.”

So, going into 2024 with Norco, Minnaar is wearing a few different hats. Team developer and team captain. Leader and mentor. Plus nobody is counting the 42-year-old out when it comes to racing. After all, he’s no stranger to the World Cup podium.

Coming out of pre-retirement

Minnaar ended the 2008 season, his first with Santa Cruz Syndicate, as the downhill World Cup overall winner, a feat he had accomplished twice before (‘01 and ‘05). Though he hasn’t finished as the World Cup points leader since 2008, “Minnaar” is a common name on the leaderboard, including World Championships. He has been on the World Championship podium 11 times, including four gold medals, three of which were earned while he was on Santa Cruz Syndicate. In fact, Minnaar was on a Santa Cruz bike for seven out of his 11 World Championship podiums.

A win at Lenzerheide, Switzerland, in 2015 gave Minnaar the record for most downhill racing World Cup career wins. So what led to Minnaar ending his time at Santa Cruz and throwing his leg over a Norco? 

Initially, Minnaar planned to retire from World Cup racing at the end of the 2023 season. But, with the race season not going how he had hoped, Minnaar wasn’t ready to call it quits. 

“I was feeling pretty tight and pretty burnt out. And so I felt like it was a good time to retire,” Minnaar said about going into the 2023 race season. 

After Fort William, his plans were beginning to change. “If I retire on a year like this, it doesn’t bring a lot of joy,” he said. “It hasn’t been fun.”

The 2023 World Championships at Fort William is now, perhaps, the culminating story of a challenging year of racing for Minnaar. The Santa Cruz V10 had been a familiar platform for him, but some updates to the bike didn’t add up to confident riding.

“It was a new bike. [Santa Cruz] launched a new bike for the season,” Minnaar told us. His teammates, Jackson Goldstone and Laurie Greenland, ran this new version of the V10 in a mixed-wheel setup and seemed to get along fine. On the other hand, Minnaar rode the full 29er, which was “basically a completely different bike,” as he said.

It was a bike that Minnaar didn’t get as much time on. “I was also injured in the preseason. So I just came back from a broken neck, and then I had an operation on my wrist to fix a tendon in my thumb. So, I missed a bit of pre-season testing,” Minnaar said. “I need to be getting on a test track and really figuring this [bike] out, and that never really happened.”

It wasn’t until the start of the 2023 race season that Minnaar was finally finding a feel for the new version of the V10. Fast forward to Fort William later in the season, and things still weren’t really working for Minnaar, which was evident by the absence of his bike at the start gate and then a blown tire during his run

“I was still in the start gate with no bike, just staring down the track, waiting for my bike to be passed to me. There were three guys trying to borrow tools and borrow parts to get my bike to me. They basically gave my bike to me probably like 20-30 seconds before the start,” Minnaar told us. “That’s definitely no way to start a World Championship, especially when you feel like it is a race where you can [win].”

Minnaar’s Fort William race results show “DNF.” It was not the result he’d hoped for.

From Santa Cruz to Norco

Minnaar’s switch from Santa Cruz to Norco left many asking, “Why?”. 

There is much that Minnaar is not allowed to talk about surrounding his final days with Santa Cruz due to confidentiality agreements. However, he shared that he found out the relationship was coming to an end on relatively short notice in mid to late October last year.

“We finished the race season on the 16th. I guess it was the week after,” Minnaar said. This would leave little time to find a new sponsor and get adjusted. Minnaar said that athletes typically know six months or so before the end of a contract, allowing the rider time to talk with and negotiate arrangements with new sponsors. It was especially surprising given that the downhiller had the option to sign for a few more years. “I had a contract going through to the end of, what would have been for, probably ‘27,” Minnaar said. 

Given the option for an extension, why did the relationship with Santa Cruz end? Minnaar stated: “The goalpost had been moved; it was just different. Things changed, which kind of shocked me a bit.”

As far as what it meant that “things changed,” Minnaar wouldn’t elaborate more on the topic. It is clear, however, that he is excited about his new role at Norco and is looking forward to sharing his wealth of knowledge and experience as team leader—and having the freedom to do so. 

“I think it’s hard when you race for so long; you build up so much experience. You can see things happen. But, once you’re in a big corporate system, you’re put in your box, and you get told, clearly, to stay in your lane,” Minnaar said. “And that’s hard when you can see things that could improve, things that could be run differently and better. And now I’ve got the opportunity to implement it.”

Minnaar went on to say: “I have a say now. I can use these years of experience. It’s a great thing being able to know that you can pass your years of experience and knowledge over to the other riders because that’s your position. Prior to that, I was just a rider, and that was it. So it’s really exciting. I’m ready for this change.”

The article Greg Minnaar Aims to Create World Cup Dream Team at Norco [Interview] appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

It is no secret that the bike industry is struggling. If massive sales like buying one Kona and getting a second one free don’t tip you off, perhaps the fact that brands like Guerrilla Gravity have closed their doors will.

In April 2023, following a weekend at Sea Otter Classic, Singletracks Managing Editor, Matt Miller, published an article titled: “What did Sea Otter Say About the Bike Industry?” Miller mentioned that the intention of the piece wasn’t to be an authoritative take on the bike industry. However, he couldn’t help but notice things like the absence of some more prominent U.S. brands like Santa Cruz and Trek at the 2023 event.

Miller also mentioned that many bike brands are downsizing and have laid off employees. These layoffs followed increased employment numbers as brands worked to fulfill high demand during the pandemic. Once demand decreased, so did the jobs.

Initially, it was just the jobs back at headquarters—engineers, graphic designers, media specialists, customer service, etc. However, as the industry seemingly continues to suffer, we have seen even more employees being left without jobs. The latest round of layoffs is affecting sponsored athletes as well.

As companies struggle to keep their doors open, they find that survival may come at the cost of their athletes or, in some cases, an entire race team. We sat down with a few of those athletes who recently found out sponsors they depended on were sponsors no more to get their take on the situation and to find out how they will compete now and in the future.

Syd and Macky

Syd Schulz and Macky Franklin are professional mountain bikers from Los Alamos, New Mexico, better known as “Syd and Macky,”—the name of their popular YouTube channel. The husband and wife team started their YouTube channel in 2017, gaining over 100,000 followers since.

However, racing on a professional level came long before YouTube. Franklin started racing professionally in 2006 and Schulz in 2014, with a sole focus on racing coming shortly after. 

“We never had traditional nine-to-five jobs. We were always kind of figuring out how to make it work,” Franklin told us. “I think in 2014 or 15, we basically decided to live as ridiculously cheap as we possibly could and not have to do other things on the side.”

Franklin and Schulz saw YouTube as another opportunity to “make it work” and remain focused on professional racing. “Up to the point, before we had YouTube, we were fully dependent on sponsors. Every year, everything would change,” Schulz said.

The pair told us that having contacts end and sponsors withdraw support is something they’ve normalized in their profession, but it will always be difficult.

“To have another source of income that wasn’t completely dependent on sponsorship has been very helpful this year,” Schulz said. The two are especially thankful their income isn’t wholly dependent on sponsors because their two most significant contracts just ended. 

At the beginning of January, Franklin and Schulz announced on their YouTube Channel that two sponsors, Niner Bikes and Competitive Cyclist, would not support them going forward. They shared with us about losing the support of Niner, a brand they had been with since 2020 and had come to love.

With Niner, Franklin and Schulz’s contract was up, and the brand informed the racers of their budget situation in October. Despite discussing different ideas and arrangements, it made the most sense for the partnership to end. “We love Niner; they’re an amazing brand. They were really good with this transition,” Schulz explained. “They tried to work with us, but they just simply didn’t have the budget.”

And why do companies like Niner not have a budget for Franklin and Schulz? The pair pointed to the post-COVID industry woes we’ve been hearing about. “I mean, the story we’ve been told by many people in the industry is that there’s a glut of inventory,” Schulz said.

Franklin broke it down as a simple supply and demand issue. Along with the pandemic came unexpected obstacles. “Because of shipping issues and factories shutting down, things got delayed, and people weren’t able to get [bikes]. Now that inventory has arrived and the demand isn’t there,” Franklin told us.

Fortunately for Franklin and Schulz, despite losing their two most prominent sponsors, they will continue to focus solely on racing in 2024. “It’s a little stressful, but we sort of figured it out and ran some numbers and should be able to carry on as we have in the past couple of years,” he said.

And there are new sponsors for Franklin and Schulz in the future. Although they couldn’t say who yet, the two confirmed they are working with some new brands and will announce them soon. 

Matt Stuttard

Polygon joins the likes of Ibis, Devinci, and GT as another enduro program closing its factory race team. This means leaving professional racers like Matt Stuttard without support, putting the 2024 racing season out of reach. 

In early November 2023, Stuttard posted to his Instagram: “Not a post I wanted to write, but here we are! With the 2024 season fast approaching, I am left without a ride, and it is looking uncertain for me to compete at World Level without the correct backing!” 

“Losing the factory ride has affected my career massively,” Stuttard told us. Unlike privateer racers working directly with individual sponsors, factory teams line up a slew of sponsors for the team. When Polygon Factory Racing closed its doors, all the associated race team sponsors dropped their support. 

Despite losing two of their main sponsors, racers like Franklin and Schulz only have two sponsors to replace. Since Stuttard was supported by a factory team, he would have to replace each of the sponsors connected with the team, or find another team.

Racing was how Stuttard made a living. “I was with Polygon Factory Racing for two years,” he told us. “This was my first time on a full factory race team, but I had prior run my own small UCI team as well.” 

And perhaps Stuttard could go back to privateer racing, finding sponsors and support to continue racing, if he had more time. Stuttard told us that Polygon’s team closing came as a shock. Like everyone else, Suttard was aware of the struggling industry but wasn’t ready for the announcement of the team’s closing. “We had meetings mid-season [2023] about plans for 2024 and that we would have a team but with budget cuts,” Stuttard said.

In late October, Stuttard found out that the team was folding.

“My guess as to riders losing sponsors and teams pulling out of series’ is that the bike industry as a whole is in a bit of a bad place at the moment,” Stuttard told us. “Well, the whole economy and cost of living is pretty bad right now, so things are tight on all sides.” 

Stuttard also felt that the return on investment isn’t there for many companies supporting UCI race teams. “The cost of UCI team applications and running them is massive. I don’t think it justifies the expense unless it is on a big scale with podium riders or ran really well,” he said. 

If Stuttard is right, and we see only a handful of brands able to justify an EDR race team, that could mean a very different landscape for the 2024 racing season and beyond. “I honestly don’t know what the EDR will look like in 2024,” Stuttard told us. “The racing will definitely be affected from the top ten [teams] down. If the vibe at enduro racing wasn’t bad enough last year, now with six-plus teams pulled out, I can’t see it going in a great direction, or at least, not for a few years.”

For Stuttard, not having the backing of sponsors or a team would mean covering all expenses himself—something very few could do. And with teams pulling out, that means fewer spots for racers like Stuttard, despite being a longtime World Cup racer and two-time British National Champion.

While racing at the World Cup level remains on his radar, Stuttard is already planning his next moves, looking into occupations outside of racing. “I’ve written my first ever CV, been for my first ever ‘normal’ job interview, and gotten my first ever full-time ‘normal’ job,” he joked.

Stuttard’s new line of work has him training to be a carbon fiber operator for an aerospace engineering firm. “I’m really enjoying learning a new profession and looking forward to where it will lead.” But you can still expect to see Stuttard racing. “I’m not done racing yet. I still love riding and racing my bike, and will be racing a select few EDR and British races.” Stuttard hopes to qualify for the Great Britain team to race at the Enduro World Championships.

And he is still very open to sponsorships. The end of his November Instagram announcement reads: “If you are a company/brand that is or isn’t in the industry and would like to help out, drop me a message or email.”

The article Hard Times in the Bike Industry Trickle Down to Sponsored Riders appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

Singletracks has been nominated for Best Digital Publication of 2023 at the Outdoor Media Awards and we need your help to win! Just click this link and vote for Singletracks right now.

Need a refresher on our 2023 coverage before you decide? That’s fair.

Here are some of the most-read stories from last year that we’re proud to have published:

• Why Land Management Agencies are Cutting Down Trees to Save the Forest
• Pay as you Go: Investigating MTB Trail Use Fees
• It’s the End of the Drivetrain as We Know It (And We Feel…)
• What’s a MTB Trail Builder’s Pet Peeve? Here are Two Big Ones
• The Orogenesis Will be the “Longest MTB Trail in the World” When Complete
• BikeExchange on The Post-Pandemic Surge of Bike Discounts

Which 2023 story was your favorite? Tell us in the comments below!

The article Help Singletracks Win Best Digital Publication! (Takes 1 Second) appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

Can’t ride because there’s snow on the trails? Cool story bro. Fabio Wibmer throws a set of studded tires onto his Canyon “Firecracker” freeride bike and absolutely sends it down the steep slopes and massive jumps at Hahnenkamm Mountain in Austria.

From the video description:

We’re back on Snow! This time I’m crashing the preperations for the most legendary ski race in the world – the Streif.

The article Watch Fabio Wibmer Mountain Bike this Legendary DH Ski Run [Video] appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

My good friend Cathy Cody turned 65 this summer. It was a “big birthday” she wasn’t keen on celebrating, but she took it in stride. This grandmother of two lively boys is affectionately called Badass Grandma by our ladies riding group. Cathy has been my steady, favorite mountain biking buddy since we met almost 25 years ago.  “Some friends asked me to ride in the late 90s,” she recalls. “Of course, I said yes because it was something new to try and I loved it immediately.” She rode her teenage daughter’s Huffy and then her dad’s hybrid for the first few years. In 2001, she bought her first full suspension mountain bike, a Gary Fisher Sugar. 

Cathy and I started riding when mountain biking was still novel on the East Coast. My first whip was a fully rigid Trek with 26-inch wheels and rim brakes. There was no such thing as “flow” trails. We rode mostly with guys, learning by trial and error and a lot of bruises. Today, at age 54, I often ride with co-ed groups, but I have the most fun riding with women. Through my participation in NEMBA (New England Mountain Bike Association) and membership in many informal riding groups on social media, I know there is a strong contingent of female mountain bikers shredding New England trails. My regular ladies group members range in age from mid-thirties to mid-sixties. Most of us could be considered middle-aged.

What are all these “older” women doing riding in the woods!?! Feeling Zen. Feeling confident. Feeling mentally and physically healthy. Enjoying personal challenges and good company. NOT feeling our age—whatever that means. 

“Riding is freedom!” says Cathy. “It’s fun, exhilarating, social, and I love being outdoors. I have a super-active mind and when I ride, I need to focus and be in the moment so I don’t crash. It’s the best stress reliever when I’m having a bad day. I’ve developed good friends over the years and explored places I never would have gone if I didn’t ride.”

Both Cathy and I love that our mountain biking community is extremely supportive and inclusive. “I ride with all ages (we often have representation from five decades–20s to 60s) and genders,” she says. “Good mountain biking buddies are fun and supportive. They push you to be a better rider and a better person. They encourage you when you’re having a bad riding day and celebrate with you when you rock the challenging feature or terrain.”

I met Candace Leblanc on a girls’ mountain bike trip to Cape Cod in 2016. We reached out to Cape Cod NEMBA, and their active women’s group kindly gave us guided tours of Otis, Trail of Tears and Yarmouth. We had to hump it to keep up with their speedy crew! Candy started riding in 1984 but took 15 years off after having a baby at age 45. She is now 67 and retired three years ago from military service, 24 years with the Air Force, 13 as a civilian with the Coast Guard. Since her retirement, she has been riding up, down, and across the country–literally. In the last three years, she’s ridden 9,000 miles on her road bike: 4,000 on the Northern Tier, from Oregon to Coney Island, NY in 2021; 3,000 from Key West to Canada in 2022; and 2,000 from Canada to Mexico in 2023. For 2024, she plans to ride 1,000 miles on the LEJOG route, through England, Wales, and Scotland. 

Candy also mountain bikes regularly. “I just love the woods and try to be outdoors every day for at least two hours,” she says. “I’m not into techy stuff anymore—I lost my gonads, and I just don’t want to get hurt.” She also doesn’t race anymore (having done the Vermont 50 and local races).  Her goal is to keep pedaling and enjoy herself.  “I’m just doing mileage now,” she says humbly. “I really don’t think about age. It is not an excuse.  People are sometimes amazed at what I do, but there is always someone older!”

That someone is Janet Anderson, aka “J-Ma.” She is 77 and started mountain biking at age 64. “I hadn’t been on a bike since the 1970s, but, ya know, it’s like riding a bike,” she jokes. Janet started riding singletrack on “a little starter hardtail” with her daughter. In 2015, Janet joined a NEMBA beginner ride, got comfortable riding solo, and then accompanied her daughter’s family on a bike vacation at Killington. “I arrived early and took my little hardtail up the lift and down Easy Street a couple of times,” she said. “After that, I was told, ‘You’re scaring us!’ and to ‘buy a real helmet and a real bike.’  So, at age 69, I bought my 5010 and really started trying to learn how to do this.”

Janet has enjoyed serious hiking and horseback riding since her twenties and thirties. “Mountain biking has aspects of both,” she says. “I can ride with others or on my own. I can push myself or just noodle along, and I’m outside and see stuff from different perspectives.  A bike’s advantage over horses is that it doesn’t have opinions (I’m not putting my tire in water today.) and won’t get deathly ill at the drop of a hat.” Janet’s been mountain biking with her eight-year-old grandson since he was on a strider. J-Ma is her grandma name and it quickly became her mountain bike community handle. She still rides nearly every Sunday with her grandson. “I love to take him over new-to-him features and trails,” she says.  “Hikers and bikers alike ask, ‘Where’s your buddy?” when I ride solo.”

Like many women (of any generation), Janet grew up with a “I can’t do sports” attitude. Over the years hiking, horses, and now mountain biking helped shift her self-image. “I am athletic,” she declares. “For a while, I wanted to bike a little better each year–faster, stronger, tackle harder features. As I get older, my goals now focus on fun, exercise, and the occasional chance to give myself an ‘atta girl’ when I clean something old or new.”

Janet has found great joy volunteering with beginning riders of all ages. The Ledyard Middle School Bike Club leader told her, “You can take a kid who’s scared shitless about trails and soon have them going over little rollers and logs with a grin.”  She also likes to peel off with adults struggling in a beginner ride and get them back to the parking lot with smiles and new skills. 

Janet’s daughter, Jessica Heuschele, is the second generation of their three-generation mountain bike family. She is 50 and started riding at age 38, when she met her now-husband. “At first it was something I did with him, but after we had our son and I needed something that was ‘mine’, I joined the Quiet Corner NEMBA ladies’ rides and embraced mountain biking fully.” A full-time social worker and full-time mom, Jessica loves the flexibility of mountain biking challenges. “I work to improve on a shorter ride, if that’s all I have time for, by picking harder terrain, setting a faster pace, and/or riding my single speed.” As a mental health professional, she appreciates that mountain biking “is incredibly present-focused. “To ride my best, I can’t look too far back at what I just rode or think too far ahead, and I can’t micro-manage the terrain. I’ve got to give up the brakes, go with the flow, and stay in the moment.”

Challenges all mountain bikers face as we age are slowing down, not healing as fast from injuries, losing your mojo after a crash, or getting stuck in a performance plateau. Jessica recalls the light-bulb moment that un-stuck her from such a plateau when she considered this question: “Isn’t it okay to be average at something and absolutely love it?”

She stopped over-analyzing, started just pointing and pedaling, and things went smoother. “Fast forward to today–about four months past a downhill crash that set my riding way back, “she says. “Even if a hard ride for me today is half the miles and elevation than it was in the spring and I have to carry my bike in places I used to ride, I still freaking love mountain biking.”

Tips for mountain biking well past middle age:

• Keep moving.
• Keep enjoying the ride even as speed or strength wane.
• Find good riding buddies.
• Be positive, adjust goals as necessary.
• Enjoy the great outdoors.
• Give back.
• Never let age keep you from doing things you love.

The article On Your Left, Middle Age! MTBing With Women Past 50 appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

Bentonville, Arkansas has established itself as the ideal example of a mountain bike community. It built an abundance of interconnected trails throughout the entire town and beyond. With the new trails came new businesses, tourists, and revenue.

It’s no wonder that other communities have paid attention to what Bentonville has done and want to replicate its magic. One such community is Midland, Michigan, a town of just over 50,000 in the Great Lakes Bay Region.

The Central Michigan Mountain Bike Association (CMMBA) has begun working on what it hopes will be the start of a system of trails throughout the city, beginning with new trails at City Forest. 

To find out more about CMMBA’s plans for Midland, Singletracks spoke to C.J. Brey, the current vice-president of the CMMBA, a Midland resident, and Marcie Post, the Assistant Director of Public Services for the city of Midland.

Midland’s destination potential

According to Brey, Midland has the ingredients to make it a destination for mountain biking. 

“We have the infrastructure, a big corporate presence, and a lot of greenspace in town,” he said. Post and Brey mentioned a robust and dedicated local ridership.

Brey said that, while Midland is in the middle of a region that is somewhat economically challenged due to the loss of industry, the town itself is thriving. “It is a young, family-oriented community. If you want to raise kids, the schools are as good as it gets.” 

Post described the city as an oasis in the region. “We have a community that expects excellence. Our community loves our parks and our arts. We want that quality-of-life piece.”

Most of Midland’s residents work for the local hospital, the Dow Chemical Company (which has been headquartered in the town for over a hundred years), or a couple of other major businesses. Brey told Singletracks that Dow has invested heavily in the town, funding the construction of a performing arts center, a community center, and a tree canopy walk. Additionally, Brey said Midland has completely revitalized its downtown area. There are several new businesses and restaurants, including Three Bridges, a brewery and distillery. This revitalization effort has helped Midland attract the attention of outsiders.

Spurring new trails closer to town

Brey helped start the Midland Mountain Bike Crew, a composite team affiliated with the Michigan Scholastic Cycling Association, in 2020. In its first year, the team had 40 young people who rode with the team. This past season, there were approximately 120 young people who participated with the team.

The explosive growth of the team helped spotlight the lack of trails conducive to riders of varying abilities. Brey said that the town’s main mountain bike trails are located at the north end of town in City Forest, a park approximately two miles long by two miles wide. It has roughly 12 miles of singletrack, which consists mainly of older trails.

Local riders often drive an hour or more away to get a different experience than what the current Midland trails have to offer. CMMBA wants to change that and keep more riders in town, as well as attract riders from other areas.

Sampling a vision

Brey told Singletracks that CMMBA initially approached the city with the idea of creating a mountain bike master plan, using IMBA Trail Solutions. However, the city was reluctant to spend $30-40k to do so. Instead, it suggested CMMBA do a pilot project first.

Using a part of City Forest that was undeveloped, CMMBA came up with a plan to build a green trail, 0.3 miles in length, that will accommodate adaptive bikes, a blue trail 0.6 miles in length, and a skills park that has progressive riding features from blue to black, including jump lines and drops.

CMMBA helped raise the funds required for the build. It secured a matching grant through IMBA, and donations from Dow, the James Musil Memorial Foundation, and other local businesses and riders. CMMBA also teamed up with BeAlive, Inc. to put on a fundraising music festival in City Forest.Once it had secured funds, CMMBA enlisted the services of TrailSense, LLC to build the new trails. Phase I of the project begins this month, and Brey expects the other two phases to be completed by next summer.

The start of an interconnecting trail system in Midland

The goal for the new trails at City Forest is simple, says Brey: get people out on bikes. He hopes that once local riders use the new trails they will be left wanting more, and that’s what Brey and CMMBA have in mind. They hope the popularity of the new trails will spur the city to fund the development of a mountain bike master plan and begin building more trails.

“The next thing to do is connect City Forest back to other parts of town.” 

Brey envisions building connector trails that encourage locals to commute by mountain bike throughout the city. He believes the connector trails will make it safer and more fun for kids and adults to move about the city and commute to and from school or work. 

“It’s too easy for everyone to just go to work and come back home,” he said “I want to create a new personality for the city.”

Post also loves the idea of having a soft-surface transportation system in town. She mentioned that Midland already has a rail-trail in town that is heavily utilized by both cyclists and pedestrians.

Both Brey and Post said that the city already has an active, outdoor lifestyle. There are year-round recreational activities available in Midland from kayaking, hiking, and biking in the warm months to skiing and sledding in the winter months.

Brey hopes the new trails will bring a youthful vibrance to the town, giving it new energy and bringing more people in. “We have all the makings of big-time mountain biking.”

Post is excited about the new trails as well. She likes the economic impact of the new trails as well as the opportunities they will give for riders of all abilities. “We know this will be big for our community. It’s going to have something for everyone.”      

The article CMMBA Hopes to Create Bentonville-like Magic in Midland, Michigan appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

Hoppy Dry January!

Whether you’re planning to lay off the booze in order to detox following indulgent holiday celebrations or you’re just looking to be a little healthier this year, non-alcoholic beer can be a good choice. Sure, you could just drink Coke or flavored seltzers after a big ride instead of beer, but for many of us the taste of hops after a big ride is part tradition, part muscle memory. Fortunately there are plenty of delicious non-alcoholic craft beers to get you through the month — and perhaps the rest of the year as well.

After trying more than two dozen NA beers in 2023, the following is an updated list of my own favorites so far. I’d love to hear your recommendations in the comments so I can add them to my list!

Note to readers: Most U.S. states treat non-alcoholic beer the same as the real deal since it can contain up to 0.5% alcohol by volume. Singletracks does not condone underage drinking, drinking while driving or biking, or alcohol abuse.

Athletic Brewing Free Wave Hazy IPA

For me, Athletic Brewing Free Wave Hazy IPA was the non-alcoholic beer that first got me interested in the category. It’s still one of the most convincing of the NA beers I’ve had with a hoppy, piney flavor that’s light and easy to drink. I’ve tried most of the other Athletic varieties at this point, but I keep coming back to Free Wave because it’s among the best. Most folks who try it don’t hate it, and it’s the one that’s generally available in most grocery stores.

Lagunitas IPNA

Lagunitas IPNA is a non-alcoholic IPA that isn’t sweet like some of the other NA beers I’ve tested. It’s crisp and refreshing and if I close my eyes I sometimes forget it’s not the real thing. My only complaint: it comes in bottles instead of cans. Otherwise I’d buy it every time.

Samuel Adams Just the Haze

Sam Adams isn’t a name I associate with craft beer today, though to the brand’s credit they were one of the first to really focus on brewing quality beer for the masses. I picked up a six-pack of Samuel Adams Just the Haze because it was one I hadn’t tried yet and I was very pleasantly surprised. It’s got sweet, hoppy taste which sorta tricks your taste buds into thinking it’s a high gravity brew. If you like hazy IPAs, you’ll probably like this one.

Bravus West Coast IPA and Raspberry Gose

Bravus Brewing Co. is a “low and no” craft brewery based in Anaheim, California. I got a chance to try a few of their brews over the summer, including the West Coast IPA and Raspberry Gose. A lot of people don’t like Goses, and that’s fine. But for me, it’s the perfect style of beer after a hot summer ride, almost like a sour Gatorade with a little bit of alcohol. Bravus Raspberry Gose is fruity and light without being overly sweet like a soda, so much so that I could probably pound a six-pack in the parking lot without even thinking about it.

Athletic Brewing has a Gose too, but I like the Bravus better.

Brewdog Hazy AF

Brewdog has a number of non-alcoholic options in addition to their traditional brews, and Hazy AF is my favorite. Not every beer translates well as a NA beer, but this one stays true enough to Brewdog Hazy Jane for me that it’s become a regular in my rotation.

Clausthaler IPA

Clausthaler is a new non-alcoholic beer to me, and it’s pretty good. The beer is brewed and bottled in Germany using cascade hops and hop extract. It’s hoppy, yes, but is more convincing as a lager than an IPA for me. Sadly my local grocery store only sells this in bottles this one comes in bottles too; otherwise I’d consider packing one to enjoy during an all-day ride. [Edit: A Clausthaler representative says the beer is also available in cans.]

Where I live, Whole Foods tends to have the widest selection of NA beer so check there if you strike out at your usual grocer. Tracking down new non-alcoholic craft beers isn’t always easy so whenever I see a new one, I buy it. I’m really hoping to find more new non-alcoholic beer to try in 2024, particularly from my local craft breweries!

The article Delicious Non-Alcoholic Beers to Get You Through Dry January appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

Earlier this year in the beginning of March, news broke that Hi-Torque Publications shut down two out of three of its bike magazine titles, Road Bike Action and Electric Bike Action, leaving just Mountain Bike Action along with three OHV-enthusiast titles. Caught up in the slash were three journalists, including long-time editor Zapata Espinoza who lifted Mountain Bike Action to its heights in the days of vast magazine stands.

The call took two minutes, maybe, winding down Espinoza’s career of 30-something years. He’d see a check in the mail.

A month-and-a-half later, you wouldn’t have known. Espinoza, known as “Zap” was in Monterey, California at the bike industry’s biggest trade show of the year, the Sea Otter Classic, buzzing between booths, catching up with old colleagues, and searching for stories with his notepad and camera at his side.

“I’m 63 and my grandpa is one of my best role models,” said Espinoza. “He worked until he was 88 and lamented the time he had to retire. That’s my idea.”

From a spark to a Zap

Espinoza grew up racing BMX and motorcycles as a kid in the 60s and 70s before he went to college in Santa Cruz. He quickly wound his way into writing while he studied politics and wrote homework assignments. Between classes and spending time at the dirt bike track, he wrote and published a punk rock “fan zine.”

But most of his time was spent on the dirt bike track. One day in 1986, he sat in another racer’s lawn chair track side when the rider returned and tapped Espinoza on the shoulder.

“Hey, we just started this mountain bike magazine. We want you to come work for us,” he remembers Jody Weisel, the editor of Motocross Action told him.

Weisel had Espinoza’s attention. Not because he was interested in mountain biking, but because it got him closer to Motocross Action, his true passion.

The offer, modest as the pay may have been, was more than enough to convince him. It was a chance to watch mountain bike racing on the sidelines with his camera and notebook, interview athletes, and write bike reviews. He didn’t need to be a journalism major or even know a lot about mountain biking; he just had to be passionate about two-wheeled sports on dirt. It’s not something he could quantify on a resume, but it was recognizable.

“I’d seen early mountain bikes in Santa Cruz back in the day but I didn’t really care one bit about them at all because it was a chance to work for Motocross Action. That was bigger than a golden ticket for Willy Wonka, it was huge.”

When Espinoza started, he earned $1,000 a month, equivalent to roughly $2,800 a month now, close to what a journalist fresh out of college might make at a small newspaper somewhere across the country today. He had to buy his own camera and equipment.

“It was a shit wage really, but it didn’t matter to me,” said Espinoza. “Everybody that worked there at any of the magazines, we were all just passionate people that got sucked into this job and we were all madly in love with the sport you happened to cover. “

Mountain Bike Action had published one edition when he started. His love for motocross overlapped into mountain bikes shortly after covering enough races and meeting the pioneers.

“I love the sound of motorcycles and sound and smell of them and everything, but to go to Mammoth and have all these people and passion and effort in a mountain bike race and you’re in these trees and there’s no noise, just the birds and the blue sky above. I mean, holy moly,” he said.

After fix or six years, Espinoza had gone from rookie to a voicey mountain bike journalist, competent in his prose, confident in his opinions and unafraid to express them. His voice attracted readers, and with them bike brands who also wanted to get their products in front of readers, in the form of an independent review or a paid advertisement.

Mountain biking was growing but media still had the same channels of reach it had benefitted from for the previous hundred years. If mountain bike enthusiasts wanted to consume mountain bike content regularly before the 2000s, they bought a magazine.

The Mountain Bike Action editorial staff churned out issues on a monthly basis, covered athletes and races and tested–and broke–many of the latest bikes, sometimes at the expense of relationships with brands.

Mountain bike legend Ned Overend recalls Espinoza’s attitude as distinct, daring and opinionated when it came to evaluating products for the magazine. Overend was sponsored by and worked with Specialized, and he remembers his team’s reaction when they saw a raw review.

“Magazine editors a lot of time won’t be critical about products, because we’re also the advertisers,” said Overend. “Zap would push the limits on that and I have a lot of respect for him because he would do that. We didn’t always agree on that, because I worked for Specialized and worked in product development in our XC products and if he didn’t like something, he would say something negative about a product.”

On to a new page

Espinoza’s reputation grew. Editors from Mountain Bike magazine, owned by Rodale, the publishers of Bicycling at the time, had reached out to him earlier in his MBA tenure, but he turned down opportunities. After several years though, he’d fatigued of the typical product and race talk and wanted to write deeper pieces. Instead of writing about the latest product, he wanted to write about the engineer who designed it, and culture commentary, rather than another race re-cap.

Though he described Mountain Bike magazine, which debuted in 1985, as an “embarrassingly lame” publication run by road bikers, it seemed like there was potential and it gave him an opportunity to re-shape a magazine through his own vision. So he took the editor position offered to him by journalist Dan Koeppel, and brought loyal readers and advertisers along with him in 1993. Over his course of ten years, Mountain Bike grew from a circulation of 40,000 and surpassed Mountain Bike Action’s circulation of over 110,000.

Espinoza’s influence stayed true at Mountain Bike and his status in the bike industry seemed to be at a pinnacle. His and Koeppel’s version of Mountain Bike attracted a bright-eyed mountain biker and mechanic who was studying journalism in Gunnison, Colorado and needed an internship to graduate.

Matt Phillips offered to work for free in exchange for course credit and he headed to Pennsylvania where the magazine was based. Phillips remembers meeting Espinoza in person for the first time.

“He’s almost exactly what you’d expect if you read his columns regularly and read what he wrote. And back then all you could do was read,” said Phillips. “There weren’t podcasts, there wasn’t YouTube, so all you knew about somebody was what you read from what they’d written.”

In the office, it wasn’t uncommon for Espinoza to stay until three in the morning and work off of little sleep. As a manager, he could be hard to work for. He had names and numbers through the industry and wasn’t shy about cursing at product and brand managers if his opinions differed from theirs; about sponsored athletes, team jerseys, or factory race trucks.

“I knew he had influence, but when you were there and saw the people coming through and who he knew, and the people he could dial directly…it was amazing,” said Phillips. “He had this sway and power in the industry that I don’t know anyone has had since and probably never will again.”

In 2003, things were changing, within Mountain Bike and outside. A “squeaky, skinny white guy from New Hampshire or something,” showed up and started terminating editors across the publisher’s titles, Espinoza said.

As an in-your-face West Coaster, he didn’t get along with the East Coast intellectual who wanted to make the content more accessible and “dumb it down.” Mountain Bike had grown into an enthusiast title and catered to the core mountain biker and reader. Friction between the two never smoothed. They terminated Espinoza and eventually rolled Mountain Bike into Bicycling during the manager’s restructuring of Rodale.

A new frontier

Espinoza went to work for Trek as a brand manager after he left Mountain Bike and took the family to Wisconsin, but it wasn’t long before he was vying to return to California and work at Hi-Torque again. Weisel offered him a position running Road Bike Action in 2007 and he could still get his hands dirty at Mountain Bike Action and Motocross Action.

By this time, the media landscape was changing rapidly. Mountain bike news websites (like Singletracks) sprouted across the horizon and suddenly print magazines faced a hazy fork in the road: Embrace the digital rush or stay true to print media.

As editor of Road Bike Action, Espinoza could see the change in front of him. When he went to Europe to cover the Tour de France, it was often just him and another writer pushing stories to print that might not come out for weeks. Other magazines had small teams and were publishing almost immediately.

This posed the biggest dilemma at a time when digital publishing emerged alongside print. Do readers want to see something on a screen in a few hours, or read about it in print in the next monthly issue?

“What digital brought more than anything that changed so much of how journalism worked was the timeliness,” said Espinoza. Like a lot of print magazines with paying subscribers, Espinoza focused on the print product first and then web content. In hindsight, this was probably a mistake, he said.

Advertisements changed too as the years went on. Espinoza later launched Electric Bike Action in 2013 and was the editorial director for all three cycling titles. Bike brands had always had a clear method of advertising in print publications which supported staff jobs, but now they had an ocean of digital opportunity. He worked harder and harder to fill dwindling amounts of ad pages and worked doubly hard writing for both print and web, while he still bought his own equipment, lived on a flat salary, and ran off of passion.

“Unless you were completely insane and really passionate about what you were covering, like me, like Jody, and a handful of others, it was hard to stay on. But still the greatest job in the world,” said Espinoza.

What it meant to be a mountain bike or cycling journalist changed with the digital frontier. Now there were podcasters, video journalists and YouTubers and “personality editors” as Phillips, who still works for Bicycling puts it.

“The way I’ve described it is, media, especially in the last 20-30 years–tumultuous. The bike industry: tumultuous. Put them together and it’s just at max all the time. It’s taken me a really long time to get used to it. Everything seems to be in constant flux and chaos.”

Before Road Bike Action closed its covers, Espinoza remembers talks about how the publication might use Chat GPT or artificial intelligence as a tool. It was another burr in his saddle as the cycling media landscape added sponsored content and posted more brand-written press releases without clearly noting them or filtering hyperbole. It all delegitimized the authenticity of the publications, he thought. Espinoza fought to keep the magazines he worked for as authentic and genuine as possible until the day he was laid off.

“Legitimacy is a key to authenticity and vice versa and that’s always been my deal.”

Some things never change

When I called Espinoza in October he’d finished talking to cyclist Victor Sheldon for a story. He was audibly excited about the interview and said he would write it that evening. Sheldon asked him who he was writing the article for.

“Me! I still love doing it,” he said. “I still wake up everyday knowing I’m gonna talk to somebody about bicycles or motorcycles everyday of my life and it’s the greatest thing I can do, but greater still is I can tell a story from it.”

Since leaving Hi-Torque, he’s started his own website and social media channels where he publishes his own content. He’s been writing columns about culture, motorcycles, and bicycles old and new, and he writes copy and editorial as a freelancer, though he calls himself a consultant instead. His girlfriend and others have been telling him he does too much for free.

Espinoza would likely respond he’s struck by passion and the innate desire to tell stories about bikes and the people who ride them. It’s the sort of attitude that is both infectious and humbling, even to other bike journalists like myself. Phillips at Bicycling, who now has roughly two decades of bike journalism under his belt, admits the he probably doesn’t like bikes as much as Espinoza.

“It’s by sheer luck that I was able to knock out four decades of this and it was all I ever wanted to do,” he said.

Espinoza calls himself “Mexican conduit,” explaining the impact he had on readers across the globe. “To be in Switzerland I was that piece of conduit that could tell a story and shoot the photos that someone in Buenos Aires or Hawaii could know about it or pretend they were there.”

Through everything that has changed since the mid-1980s when Espinoza began writing, the magazines that have come to print and gone or morphed from printed words into into words backlit by LED, what hasn’t changed is his passion to tell authentic stories about bikes and bicycle riders because they are good stories–not because a public relations or marketing rep needed a favor or because it made a brand look good, or it would bring in potential ad dollars.

His love and expression for independent media and traditional journalism is still recognizable, whether it’s griping about the latest technology that’s made his life harder and complicated the industry, or by queuing up a story with a reference to “All the President’s Men,” the iconic journalism movie with Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman about the Washington Post journalists who brought down President Nixon. Bike media may be more convoluted–and challenging–than ever, but there is a lot to appreciate about Espinoza’s ethos and perspective, what it’s given media thus far and how he may inspire the future.

The article The Mountain Bike Journalist Who Just Won’t Quit appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

TED Talks are pretty diverse these days and one could find a topic on just about anything, from conservation to video games, leadership talks and so on, if they combed through the extensive archives.

So it’s not surprising to see Gary Vernon, the Director of Outdoor Recreation and Trail Innovation for the Runway Group in Bentonville, Arkansas (whom we’ve spoken with for a number of articles) on how building singletrack can change a community. This TED Talk covers the transformation of the small town in Arkansas and how others can do it too.

The article Transform Your Community with MTB Trails-TEDxFargo [Video] appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

I’ve done most types of camping over the years, though still not all. It started when I was a kid, in the Boy Scouts, almost 30 years ago now. There’s something about getting away from daily life, putting the phone and computer away, and sleeping under something that’s not the roof of your house. It didn’t start quite that way; most 10-year-olds don’t have a full email inbox to respond to, but for me it’s always been about the adventure and the outdoors, and it still is. It’s something I try to do frequently throughout the year to recharge my soul, and as a way to facilitate my mountain bike adventures.

The problem is, camping is always a compromise of some sort. Whether it’s ground tent, roof tent, van, RV, or trailer, there’s always a trade-off to be made somewhere. Maybe it’s comfort, convenience, cost or something else. In early 2022 I found myself wanting to pursue the idea of the teardrop trailer. For those unacquainted, a teardrop trailer is a tiny, lightweight trailer that can be towed by almost anything. This struck a chord with me because it can be detached from the tow vehicle and left set up at camp for day adventures or shuttles. It doesn’t hinder your daily driver or cost a lot in maintenance or insurance, and can be parked in a small parking spot when not in use. Most importantly though, it’s comfy enough for a great night’s sleep but small and basic enough to still feel like camping good and proper. This is my story of how I built my own overland-style ‘squaredrop’ trailer from scratch.

How I built my camping adventure trailer

Building a trailer might seem like a daunting task, but there’s a thriving online community around these things, with no lack of information available and pretty much everything having been done more than once by many different people. My budget was tight-ish, which is the main reason I chose to the self-build. I figured I could build myself a $25K trailer for less than half that since labor accounts for a significant portion of anything like this. Having done enough research to be dangerous, I decided that the best way to proceed was to buy a trailer frame to force myself on with the project. I bought a used utility trailer as my base and cut the sides off so that I had a simple flat, 5x8ft deck to build my trailer body on.

They say that the best way to learn something is to do it wrong first because if you do it right first time, you haven’t learned anything at all, you just did it. Jumping into projects and figuring them out as I go is my preferred method; inevitably I do things wrong, and as a result, a lot of learning transpires. As it happens, I ended up learning a lot about trailer axles and wheels; I wound up having to buy a new custom made axle and wheels, because the wheels/axle my trailer came with were an old Dayton type that weren’t compatible with most modern tires. Following some research around weight distribution I also determined that the axle needed to move back about 12 inches and so I needed a fab shop move the leaf spring brackets back on the frame. It’s safe to say I learned plenty – if there’s ever a next time around I’ll design and build the frame from scratch to my own specs.

While I was waiting for the fab shop to work on the frame, I started on the build of the body, framing out all the walls so I could assemble them on the frame once I had that back. I decided to go with a ‘squaredrop’ type design because it seemed simpler working with angles than with curves. The body was to be 8ft long and 5ft wide, with the main sleeping cabin 6x5ft minus the thickness of the walls. It worked out to be about the size of a queen bed – the entire floor would be taken up with a custom mattress, with some cupboards up top for storage, electrics etc. That would leave about 16″ of space at the back for a galley kitchen to open up with a tailgate type hatch.

I sourced a window and door for the trailer first so I could cut the openings for these in the panels ahead of time and reinforce appropriately. While I considered making a door myself, I chose to order one which turned out to be a good decision as it looks much less DIY and it saved me a ton of time. The wall panels were constructed with 2×2 batons with 1/2″ plywood skin on the outside, and 1/4″ plywood on the inside with 1.5″ insulation panels sandwiched between. The floor was constructed the same way but with 3/4″ plywood either side, for strength and rigidity.

Remember what I said about making mistakes? Have you ever installed a tire backward despite being 100% sure that you checked it was in the correct orientation? Well, I ordered the door to open the correct way on the passenger side of the trailer, as most RVs do. While building the sides I checked and double checked that I’d put the door on the correct side of the trailer, only to find out that I’d framed them out backwards, and that my only options now that I’d glued and screwed them together were to either commit to the door being on the wrong side and opening the wrong way, or to rebuild the sides, wasting hundreds of dollars of wood. I opted to accept my fate and leave it as it was – a valuable reminder.

Once I had the frame back, I could assemble the body panels and bolt them down. I designed the floor with captive nuts so that should I ever need to remove the body from the frame, I could. This did later turn out to be a good idea when I needed to re-waterproof the base of the shell. Once assembled, I filled gaps with body filler, and fiberglass over top. The wood needed a waterproof layer for obvious reasons and resin on its own is not strong enough around the seams. So fiberglass was the ticket.

This would make the shell ultra stiff, though this meant I could likely have used much thinner/cheaper/lighter wood. I then finished with truck bed liner, since the resin is not UV-stable without some kind of paint. Black bed liner gave me the industrial type of look I wanted and meant there was no real need to smooth out the fiberglass finish. The lesson I learned from applying fiberglass: it’s deeply unpleasant, especially in a small garage in the middle of summer.

Once together I could run the wiring, finish the interior and it’s good to go, right? Turns out all of the seemingly minor details took much more time than anticipated, as is always the case. The smaller, more intricate work in the cabinets etc. required a lot more finesse and time to get it right, especially in the fit and finish. I ended up rushing things somewhat to get it finished up as I had a trip planned with my parents, but I got it to a place where I was happy with the end result.

I decided that instead of a complex leisure battery system with breakers, inverter, solar charge controller etc. I would run a Bluetti EB55 portable power station since this has all of those things built in. From there I run all of my electrics off the 12v out to a small fuse board. It has the capability to charge a laptop and other electronics but is mostly for running LED lights and a fan so it doesn’t need a huge capacity. It also can be easily removed for use elsewhere like for tent camping trips or anything else outdoors. On top of the trailer is a 100w solar panel for charging which, through summer, keeps the battery 100% topped up all the time, though it’s a little less helpful in winter.

Cut to late August 2022. I got the trailer finished in time for our trip to the Rockies, but just barely. Its maiden voyage ended up being a 1600km round trip, sans bikes. Thankfully it towed great and everything worked well with few incidents aside from some spilled water containers. Total build time was about 4-5 months around a full time job, and I spent around $10,000CAD building it. The final weight is around 1,700lb – heavier than many other small trailers, but I feel confident in its construction, though I would build the next one lighter given the chance.

Getting something like this completely dialled for bike trips can always be tricky, I had a 2″ hitch receiver welded onto the back of the trailer so I could attach my North Shore Rack, but it had more flex in the receiver than I would have liked, so I decided to find a different way to carry bikes. Aside from this, having the bike rack on the back of the trailer would have added yet more length to what I had hoped would be a fairly compact setup, as well as meaning I wouldn’t be able to open the galley hatch with bikes loaded. I opted instead for two Küat Trio racks on the roof, so I can carry bikes on my SUV and use it as a shuttle vehicle still. And of course if anyone else brings a North Shore Rack camping, I can shuttle multiple bikes and 5 humans while everyone else leaves camp set up.

Camping with my custom trailer

Having had the trailer completed for a year now, there are things I’d do differently and things I’m happy I did the first time around. But mostly, I confirmed my theory that there’s no perfect camping setup. It’s always fun going camping with friends and seeing what their setup is like. Maybe it’s a rooftop tent, ground tent, big van, small van, or something else. The trailer does what I wanted it to do; I have a supremely comfortable bed and I sleep like a log. It has just enough creature comforts while still feeling like I’m camping, and I can detach the tow vehicle to run errands, drive to the trailhead etc, and it goes off road, or as much as I need it to anyway.

The trailer does have its downfalls however, and they’re not insignificant. Having never towed before, taking the trailer on its first trip was a trial by fire for me. Towing a trailer is no joke. You have to be a lot more aware while towing, especially at slow speeds and in tight situations. Turning it around requires a good deal of room, and some legit driving skills. To that end, I find myself apprehensive to take it down roads or into situations where I don’t know if there’s a good spot to turn around like a parking lot or a narrow forest road. A flat parking lot is the best case scenario, where it can be turned around by hand with one person. It’s inconvenient, yes, but do-able.

Finding myself at the bottom of a steep and narrow FSR with no turn-around and no way out except back the way I came is worst case scenario, and one I haven’t found myself in yet. While I can unhook the trailer and leave it somewhere while I go explore, I do feel like this leads to some missed opportunities still, because unhooking and hooking back up is enough of a pain that I don’t want to do it a lot, and so that tempting road that might lead to a sweet campsite usually goes unexplored instead.

By a similar token, finding parking spots while road-tripping can be difficult, and I often have to park a good walk away from my destination. However I don’t mind this too much since the goal of the trailer is to get away from cities and situations where parking is an issue. But it can mean not being able to park with friends sometimes when in a town or somewhere parking is limited.

Finally, fuel economy is another major drawback. Since it only sleeps two people, realistically you’re usually only going to be a party of two, and with a big fuel bill to foot, it can get expensive fast. The trailer adds roughly 30% to my already expensive fuel bill on big trips, and since my partner doesn’t mountain bike I’m often towing it solo, which obviously is doubly expensive. Thankfully camping in the trailer still works out cheaper than hotels or Airbnbs most of the time, especially if you like the more basic campgrounds or boondocking, which I do. This was the aim for me. I don’t like paying for hotels, especially when I could be camping instead.

Drawbacks aside, I’m glad that I decided to build my little squaredrop trailer. If I can use it once a month spring through fall then I’m pretty happy. It gives me a ton of freedom, means I can camp just about anywhere in supreme comfort and I can go on trips at the drop of a hat if I leave it fully stocked, which I do.

One of the things I most enjoy about it is that it gets attention wherever it goes. People are curious and want to chat to me about it. Maybe they’re thinking of building their own and want to see how I did mine. Maybe they’ve just never seen one and want to know what the hell it is. Either way, these things are infectious, and the joy of using it makes me want to build another. Am I crazy? Maybe. But there’s something incredibly satisfying in building something yourself.

I love seeing other people’s solutions to the bike camping conundrum, whether simple or complex, everyone has their own idea of how to do it and their own approach. Some are minimalist, some are maximalist, but all are very specific to each individual, and I believe these things say a lot about a person through what they choose to prioritize. Please feel free to share your camping setups in the comments below, I’d love to see them.

For anyone interested in learning more about teardrop trailers, this subReddit gave me a ton of ideas, and the TNTTT forum is an almost endless resource. For anyone interested in my step-by-step build, you can find a detailed build thread here. Lastly, please feel free to follow my adventures in the trailer on instagram, and for anyone interested in renting it out in the Vancouver (BC) area, you can find my Outdoorsy listing here.

The article How I Built My Own DIY Overland Camper Trailer for MTB Trips appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

If you’re a regular reader of this site, you’re likely a dedicated mountain biker, but all of us face the changing of the seasons at some point. Whether we like it or not, cold nights, short days, and wet weather make it challenging to ride all year long.

But, even if you do have weather that cooperates year-round, you might also find that you want a break from mountain biking. A space and distance from the sport that re-energizes you and makes you appreciate the two-wheeled, alloy and carbon-fiber horses that give us life. In the northern hemisphere, that space tends to come in December.

While you might be one those people that switches to fat biking or road riding in the winter, we want to know what you enjoy doing most outside, aside from cycling.

What's your favorite outdoor activity aside from mountain biking? *

• Hiking
• Running
• Skiing
• Snowboarding
• Rock/ice climbing
• Backpacking
• Hunting/fishing
• Birdwatching
• Walking
• Ball sports
• Something else I’ll share in the comments

Submit

If you don’t have any outdoor hobbies outside of mountain biking, tell us why not in the comments below.

The article What is Your Favorite Outdoor Activity, Aside From Mountain Biking? appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

The 24 Hours of Old Pueblo experience came with more sleep than I’d anticipated. As our team of four alternated between 16-mile race laps and a couple hours of sleep, the bigger surprise was the day-to-night temperature swing of the Arizona desert. Pulling myself out of a sleeping bag, still in chamois bibs, I tried to avoid waking riders who were asleep on ground pads and in truck beds.

At 2:45 AM, our camp was a sea of fold-up chairs, coolers, and bike pumps. A total of 16 competitors were camped at our site, most of whom I’d known less than a day, and all of whom had been involved in the Global War on Terror (GWOT); Veterans of Iraq, Afghanistan, and various other austere locations.

Soft pedaling to the check-in tent to start my lap, I determined my choice of jacket to be overkill. Silhouetted against a half-mile of Christmas lights, racers were returning from the course in short sleeves, some with vests, but none in jackets.

I entered the tent where outbound riders await their inbound teammates. I wished my partner Ian, an Iraq Vet, would pick up the pace, however, the warmth of the space heaters and the comfort of my white plastic chair made the wait bearable.

Eventually, in a black Voler windshell, he arrived with little to say other than a comment on temperature and a complaint about his dropper seat-post.

Riding a single lap at 24 Hours of Old Pueblo isn’t particularly difficult. The course is fast, with 1,500ft of punchy climbing and a “whiskey tree” halfway through for those who wish to partake.

The lap is as fast or as slow as you’re willing to pedal. On our team, there seemed to be an unspoken expectation of going fast that put the whole experience in the ‘hard’ category.

I’ve long thought riding single-track at night offers unique clarity. With light from the handlebars only touching the path ahead, there’s no chance for peripheral distractions. This singular focus makes the miles seem productive; thoughts become clearer and solutions to problems present more easily.

Seeing only the dirt and rocks ahead of my tire, my mind found its way to the question of why so many GWOT Vets had gathered around riding bikes.

Navigating Traumatic Brain Injury in the Outdoors

For two decades, our military members came and went overseas. They were husbands, wives, sons and daughters, parents, and colleagues. They went, they came back; tried to keep their home lives intact, and went again. Some went for as long as 18 months, and some went and never came back.

The Global War on Terror was complicated and still is to this day.

Now, two years after a largely criticized pullout of Afghanistan, costing the lives of 13 Americans and 183 Afghans, GWOT Vets are unpacking and processing the experiences that took place overseas.

According to the Department of Defense, 200,000 military members will leave active duty in 2023, and with many of them will be the consequences of IED exposure, post-traumatic stress (PTS), tested relationships, and every combination of physical injury imaginable.

Many will seek a replacement for the intensity of war, and others will do everything they can to distance themselves from it.

Kenneth Stone, an Army vet who I spent time with that day, told me, “When I got out, I got a job in construction. I was having trouble with cognition, memory, and various impacts from a Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) I’d had. A doctor asked me what I did in my free time, and I told him I’d grown up riding bikes. He encouraged me to try getting back into it as a way to mitigate some of the issues I was having. Six months later, my mental clarity and outlook had improved tenfold. I thought, if this works for me, I’m sure it can work for other vets.”

These days, Kenny runs a non-profit called Soldiers on Single Track. The non-profit has chapters all over the country, bringing together local Vets to ride, race, and find community around bikes.

The Desire for Options Outside the Pharmacy

Making my way through a fast gravel section and through a steep left turn, branches from White Carob trees connected above the trail and made what felt like a tunnel, I thought about using the outdoors as a way of healing. 

I relied heavily on the outdoors in my own transition from the military. There was never a moment of revelation on how exactly it all worked, but I know that it did.

Earlier in the day, I had raised the topic with Ian Crumley, who volunteers with the Veteran’s Outdoor Advocacy Group (VOAG).

“I think it’s a handful of things,” he told me. “The whole idea of mountain biking creates a shared mission; it’s you, your group of friends, and a mission to finish something, be it a race or just a ride. There’s also risk involved, which I think many vets find cathartic. You get out and get a 9-5 job; I think you start to miss that feeling of risk in your life. And there’s a physical element to it all as well. Getting out in the mountains, pushing your body, your mind; it makes you feel alive. That’s a lot of what people did in the military.”

VOAG is a 501C3 and 501C4 that advocates for the use of outdoor recreation therapy as an adjunct treatment in veteran mental health. “We’re looking to make a systemic change.” Ian went on. “What we’ve been doing, the heavy reliance on pharmaceuticals, it isn’t enough. Vets deserve options.”

The organization currently sits on a congressionally mandated task force charged with reporting on the therapeutic benefits of outdoor recreation and identifying barriers between vets and our nation’s public lands.

“We’d like to see change within the VA system” Ian later told me. “There are thousands of nonprofits doing incredible work to help vets access the outdoors. Fly fishing, paddle boarding, hunting and fishing, you name it, it exists. Almost all of it is backed by donors and various people who believe in the impact. We’re pushing for adoption from the healthcare systems, the VA and anywhere vet’s receive care.” 

Where Research Meets Testimony

Eventually, I made the road which marks the halfway point and the start of the only real climb on the 24 HOP loop. A half dozen race supporters sat under tents, asleep in camping chairs and wrapped in blankets.

Realizing my lap was near its end, I tried to arrive at something conclusive with was drawing so many veterans into outdoor sport. What role does it play in the post-GWOT experience?

Often, conversations on the topic of outdoor recreation and its impact on mental health arrive at the question of what research exists on the idea.

Research and literature on the physiological response to outdoor exposure have long been studied and are somewhat commonplace, as are studies focused on understanding the connection between brain injuries and psychological disorders. However, in recent years, we’ve seen more research focused on correlating the two and how one might influence the other.

A recent study out of the U.K. stated that following a randomized controlled trial, “Veterans participating in outdoor recreation activities obtained a significant reduction in PTSD symptoms.” Simultaneously, we’re seeing a sharp increase in resources dedicated to understanding TBI through institutions like the National Intrepid Center of Excellence (NICoE), a direct result of the injuries sustained over the last two decades of war.

Seeing is believing

Climbing into the saddle that wraps “24 Hour Town”, I found my way through a technical section that precedes the memorable and commonly photographed “rock drop.” I was surprised by the number of supporters, beer enthusiasts, and hecklers still engaged in what was now the early morning hours.

For 23 years, friends, families, and in our case a community of veterans gather in the Sonoran Desert on the third weekend in February to participate in the 24 Hours of Old Pueblo. Each are motivated by different factors, and with varying expectations around what they hope to get out of riding laps through the night.

What I realized is we likely have much to learn about the intricacies and unique circumstances that continue to bring veterans outdoors.      

However, I’ve seen what I needed to see to believe in the benefits. I’ve heard enough testimony and experienced enough healing in my own life to know that whether it’s riding bikes or the outdoors in general, this is worth advocating for.

Author’s note: Special thanks to the AZ Trail Vets Association and the hard work they do to connect those who have served our country with fellow service members and the Arizona National Scenic Trail.

The article Mountain Biking to Mend: The Clarity of Outdoor Therapy for Vets at a 24 Hour Race appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

Bienvenido Aguado’s first run down the mountain at Rampage this year was as exciting as a run could get. Near the bottom of the mountain, he laced together a 360 over a drop, a backflip over a step down, and to top it off, a front flip over a 72-foot canyon. When he nailed the landing, the crowd erupted. He threw a superman afterward, launched his bike, and stopped just short of the finish corral, chucked his helmet and threw his hands up, celebrating what he knew was an outstanding line.

His finish corral interview was emotional after the massive pressure release. His eyes poured tears, he launched F-bombs on live national TV, and briefly considered retirement. “I can’t be more happy.”

Aguado took 8th that day, a huge rebound for his second time at the event, after crashing out in 2019. Aguado also walked away with three of six separate awards: The Kelly McGarry Spirit Award, Best Trick, and the People’s Choice award.

For being a fairly new athlete in the Rampage ring, Aguado made a huge impact at the event this year. We got in touch with him a few weeks after returned home to Spain to learn more about him and how he pulled it off this year.

Can you tell me about your background in sports and how you started mountain biking?

So I did gymnastics when I was younger, for eight or nine years. And then at 14, I stopped with gymnastics and I started doing parkour, capoeira, breakdance and gymnastics, but on the streets just for fun, and some acrobatics and stuff. And then when I was 21 years old in 2007 I discovered La Poma Bike Park. And then I started riding dirt jumps. And then in 2018 I started riding downhill.

How did you transition into freeriding?

I was kinda over it on the slopestyle scene, you know, because after the FMB contest and so many shows, it got kind of boring for me. So I decided to move to freeriding because it was a new thing where I had so much stuff to learn. And that was motivating me a lot, you know.

I had the base of jumping because of dirt jumping and then I was like, man, I want to jump bigger, so I moved into big bikes.

What was your first freeride event?

I think it was Nines, when it was Suzuki Nine Knights, which was 2018 or 2019. There’s some slopestyle lines and some pretty wild lines. And I did one in Italy in Livigno at Mottolino Bike Park.

And it was a pretty quick thing how you got into Rampage in 2019, correct?

Yeah, I was an alternate, and Emil was well, and we both got in because we were both alternates, and Gee Atherton pulled out and then I think some French dude, I think Bizet pulled out so Emil got in, so we got our spot through qualification of the Proving Grounds event.

How did you qualify at Proving Grounds?

I did best trick and fourth place. That was Proving Grounds in 2019. And last year I did third place.

And best trick that year was a front flip, right? Have you always been into front flips?

Yeah, since I started and in 2011 I did the first double front flip in. And then I always like doing combos; tsunami front flip, cliffhanger, front flip no-handers. I always love it to be different. And I’ve not seen many people doing that.

Going to qualifiers like Proving Grounds, was your intent to get into Rampage?

No, not then. I just wanted to go to a freeride event that was cool to ride and learn more about big bikes, and and then I got fourth and best trick.

And I actually did only one run because the second one was windy. And I was like man, it’s okay, I did what I wanted. I did the fronty, and I was like, oh, that’s enough. And then I qualified for Rampage kind of by accident. I wasn’t even pretending. I was super rookie, but it was like, okay that’s part of the situation. And I learned the hard way on so many things, because my event didn’t go too well. But what I learned I could apply this year. And it was a pretty good result.

In 2019, you were really going for that front flip out of the gate.

Yeah. Because my line wasn’t the best because it was too busy already, you know, the venue was super crowded already. So I needed something to start with and be solid and consistent. So I was like, I need to try or otherwise I’m going to be at the end of the score list. So I was like, Okay, I go for it. And it didn’t work.

Looking back on it, do you think you would have done anything differently?

Nah, I would have done the same. I mean, of course, I would change some stuff. But if I was back in 2019, I would do the same. Then, it was my only chance. No one wanted to share. It was super busy and hard to go through the mountain straight down without jumping into someone’s spot. So it was pretty tough. And I was a rookie back them. So I didn’t know how to deal with it.

That was four years ago now. How do you think you progressed between then and 2023 to be selected as a wild card this year?

I mean, I still need to learn so much, first of alI. I still think I’m a guy on progression line, which is what keeps me motivated. But I think the bigger jumps, I got used to it. I’m good with flipping big features. For example, this year, the canyon gap, I flipped it on the third go. It’s not what I wanted to do, but I was fine with that. Like, let’s get some stuff out of the way. So it helps with the pressure, with the tempo of the jump. So it was a good decision to do it.

What was your ideal run this year?

On the top ridge it was really windy and I had some more sauce to give on the run. But the top line was so windy and sideways. So into that jump, the in run was super skinny, and I wanted to do a trick to trick, but I was only able to do a nac nac to save the situation because there was sideways wind. And once you go straight down, it was okay. But on the top, it was too soft. I needed to go kind of slow and carefully. And on the trick job I couldn’t do anything crazy. So then I was able to get to the biggest part of my run, down the middle of the run.

One of the things you talked about in the interview immediately after was how technical that front flip is over the canyon gap. Can you talk about how you get that right?

The problem was coming from the top, the speed was way too much. The terrain was changing, because it was either dry or wet, or loose or packed. So the speed was changing all the time. And coming from the top, it was way too much speed. And the braking was kind of hard. So it was really easy to go flat. And I didn’t want it to case that jump because it would have been a disaster.

So I was going the other way. But a little too much, I was trying to go as snipey as I could. And on the straight jumps, I was landing way too long. So that was the main issue.

And when you do a front flip, you actually go farther. So I had to go scary slow to be able to do the front flip. And that was the hard part; go slower than the speed is to clear the jump. And then push with the front flip, so you clear the jump, but you don’t overshoot the jump. Just to judge the speed was crazy.

Wow. And if you had backflipped it at the same speed, it would have been noticeably shorter?

Oh, yeah. If I did a backflip with the same speed I was doing the front flip, then I would front case for sure. With the front flip, you go like 10 feet longer, because you push up, so you go higher.

Obviously, you were very stoked, but afterward you said you didn’t care about doing a second run. But you did do another. What changed?

Because of all the pressure and the crash, everything I got really so bad. I was like, I can be happy. I came and I did what I came for. But, it was like, dude, I have another chance. I’m not going to waste it. It took five minutes to realize, and then after those five minutes, I was like, don’t think I’m not going for my second round, and I want to clean it up, I want to do better.

But then the wind got harder. And I couldn’t do more tricks. I just could clean up what I already did. And I don’t stop at the end of the run. Because there was some doubts about if I got under judged, because I stopped at the end of the round to celebrate. So I was like, okay, I can do the same round. And then I go to the finish line. And then I’m done and I did a proper run, instead of sketchy and stopping on the the end and throwing my helmet, just to make it proper.

And you ended up getting a few points higher than the first round.

A half point I think. The problem is my top, it was too slow and sketchy, but I couldn’t do more because of the wind. That was too risky. If I tried to do something else on the top, and I fucked up, then I’m not able to do the bottom.

So I was like, okay, I sacrificed the top and then I sent it on the bottom. I think it was the right choice, even if it’s not the position I was wishing for, but the result was better than expected. I’ve got the awards, people loved it, I’m in for next year. I couldn’t be happier. So it’s okay. I’m happy. and I’m not seriously injured.

Your runs were fan favorites, but not some of the judges. They had different thoughts on them. What do you make of that?

To be honest, I’ve got Pinkbike asking me about some judging post, and I was like, I don’t want to be a part of that. I don’t want to play that game. I know you guys love controversy, but I don’t want to play that game. I know what it is to be a judge. I know what it is to be a rider.

I wish, and I think I could have been a little higher on my score, but man I know, as well, and I’m pretty honest, the top was too soft. But I had to do it like this because it was windy. So, fair play from everyone, I played my cards, and the result is better than expected, even if I think I deserved a little more points, but definitely not winning the event.

Everyone thinks I’m winning the event, I’m like, no, man. I could be close to the podium, maybe, but not winning the event. I am missing some steepness on my run. Before the 360, if I had some steepness, some speed, then that could be considered a podium run. Without that, the lack of steepness and speed; it’s not a winning run, man. And I know that. That’s why I don’t want to get into the conversation with Pinkbike trying to get me in trouble.

Well, it’s obviously such a huge jump for you to go from crashing out in 2019 to 8th this year.

I mean, I think I deserve my spot. And now I can breathe, I can just think about my recovery. And the last four years has been worth it. No pressure anymore, man. All the pressure I’ve had these last four years to get my spot, to own my spot.

It’s been a really long way through all the other events. And I’m happy man, I don’t want to blame any judges or anything. They did their job. I think it’s kind of weird, some results. Not just me. You know, there was something a little strange. But at the end, the podium was fair play to me so I’m happy with the result. I’m happy and that’s it.

How did you celebrate?

I was pretty tired. And I tried to celebrate so I went to Reed’s place, we had some beers but at 10PM I was like, I’m going to sleep. The next day we went to Vegas and then we did some some proper celebration.

Do you feel like you had any advantages or disadvantages coming from Spain?

Yeah, I will say disadvantage because I have nothing similar to train on. I have some jumps, but man, I don’t have any big drop like Utah, or any exposure. I have Andorra, which is a pretty big downhill racing bike park. I have some other places that have some jumps, but it’s like more trick jumps than big jumps. Honestly, for Utah, it’s something you can only train for if you live in Utah. There is nothing similar to it.

Do you think you’d go back to Utah before Rampage to train before next year?

Yeah, but not too long, because then you get too tired. It’s good to go and send some big stuff, so you get the confidence on the highest level before Rampage. But it’s not a good idea to risk too much or get too tired either before Rampage, you know?

So maybe I’ll go midseason to enjoy the riding. Because when you go for Rampage, you don’t really enjoy the riding. Everything is about working, getting a result and being consistent on the riding, but there’s no chilling. So maybe I’ll go mid-season for two weeks and enjoy a little bit of time over there.

What other projects are you excited about this year?

Yeah, I have a project with YT. I can’t tell too much because it’s a bit of a secret, but I have a winter project with YT. And then the next year, I’m gonna do all the big bike events like Freeride Fiesta, Nines, Proving Grounds in New Zealand, hopefully, and then at the end of the year, Rampage. And let’s see what’s coming. I mean, I’m pretty open to do all the big bike events.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

The article From Crashed Out, to Fan Favorite, Bienvenido Aguado Flipped Red Bull Rampage on its Head [Interview] appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

Adam Sklar is the founder of Sklar Bikes. Like many boutique bike builders, Sklar handcrafts unique frames, making riders stand out at the trailhead. 

His newest bike, the Super Something, and the Tall Tale, which he hopes will be released in the Spring of 2024, are no exception. The only difference? Sklar’s hands didn’t build these frames.

If you are familiar with custom, handcrafted bikes, you likely know about long waitlists and high prices, to which Sklar is no stranger. With growing popularity making the waitlist even longer, Sklar began to question the sustainability of the model, along with the accessibility of his bikes.

Sklar Bikes from the start

Sklar grew up in Boulder, Colorado, skiing, camping, and generally doing outdoor “Colorado” things. Bikes weren’t a massive part of Sklar’s childhood until high school.

“My ski friends got into mountain bike racing and convinced me to go mountain biking. It took super hard, and I got really into bikes,” Sklar said.

In 2011, Sklar headed to college, and pursued mechanical engineering in Bozeman, Montana, where he built his first frame. He bought tubing from Home Depot and began crafting. His first frames weren’t great.

“I took it to a frame builder I knew in Boulder. His reaction was, ‘Wow, this sucks,’” Sklar said of his first frame. “So he gave me a little brazing lesson and taught me just enough to mess around a bit more seriously.” And so began Sklar’s passion for frame building.

Bikes weren’t Sklar’s occupational plan. He worked at an engineering firm doing consumer product design during and after college. Sklar built that first frame during his first semester at college and only a handful more during his university stay. Building bike frames was initially just for fun.

However, “fun” was becoming a growing business. It was 2016, and Sklar was now out of college, working full-time at the engineering firm but also fielding calls from people interested in his bikes. His boss at the engineering firm, a cyclist as well, also noticed Sklar’s side hustle picking up.

“I got back from a trip on the Colorado Trail, and my boss wanted to grab coffee,” Sklar said. After some encouragement from his boss to choose a direction, Sklar went all in, building bikes. “I’ve been self-employed since.”

And when things kicked off, they really kicked off. In 2017, Sklar was awarded Best Mountain Bike at the North American Handmade Bicycle Show (NAHBS). Sklar’s unique take on a fully rigid steel singlespeed won him the award. 

Building a Company by hand-building Bikes

If boutique bikes are a sub-genre of mountain biking, handmade mountain bikes are a sub-genre of a sub-genre. Yet, this tiny world has a larger reach than one might assume. 

Sklar Bike’s primary marketing strategy early on was word-of-mouth referrals. And although this kept him busy, social media also played an early and important role. Instagram pictures drove customers to his website in the beginning. 

“Instagram was a different place back then. I was really in the right place at the right time,” Sklar said. “I feel like there are a couple of weird communities on there that have done well, and handmade bikes are one of them.” 

Customers also found Sklar at bike races and events. “‘Cool bike’ is usually how it starts. Then they find out I build them,” Sklar said. “Soon, they are getting in contact.” 

Sklar Bikes outgrew several garages and machine shop corners until they finally found their own rental space in Bozeman. Sklar remains at this location today, now fulfilling production frames from the location.

A bike brand now too big for one man

Sklar’s decision to pursue custom frame building paid off. He became known in the handmade frame builder circle and steadily grew customers. 

When he won Best Mountain Bike at NAHBS in 2017, growing a customer base turned into a maintaining lengthy waitlist. “It became a two-year waitlist in 2018 and stayed that way until I stopped taking orders in 2021,” Sklar said.

Sklar finally crossed the last name off his waitlist in the Spring of 2023. Time and prices are the tradeoff for truly unique bikes. “I’d spend two months designing them with the customer. They’re all completely different from the ground up,” Sklar said.

But the process wore on Sklar. 

“Personally, I’d never wait two years for a bike. So there was some dissonance there,” he shared. He wanted customers on his bikes faster. He wanted his product to be the bike, not the bike-design experience.

“I wanted the experience to be riding the bike; the bike to be the product,” Sklar said. “I found it very frustrating that people had to wait that long.” 

Price was also a factor. Custom bikes from Sklar regularly jumped above $10,000. He knew this meant many mountain bikers, including friends, couldn’t afford one of his bikes.

Sklar experimented with non-custom frames in 2019 to offset an ever-growing waitlist. He offered a hardtail mountain bike, the Sweet Spot, in five sizes. “That was my first step into seeing if people wanted a non-custom bike from me, “ Sklar said.

Taking these factors into consideration, Sklar has transitioned to bike production overseas. He tested it in 2022 with a new gravel bike, the Super Something, and decided to keep production overseas into the future. Sklar hopes to release a new mountain bike, the Tall Tale, in the Spring of 2024.

Controlling quality in another country

With production literally out of his hands, one might assume that Sklar is concerned with the quality of frames from overseas factories. However, Sklar insists his namesake will remain at a top-quality level.

“The quality is really good. They make some of the best bikes in the world,” Sklar said of his new factory. “The people welding in the factories weld more bikes in a week than have in my life.”

Sklar explained the “risk” of having his bikes produced overseas and that it doesn’t mean a lesser quality. 

“The only risk is that you get exactly what you ask for…designing the first bike took about a year.” Sklar checked every box and double-checked every little detail. Quality isn’t the issue; having your ducks in a row is.

Sklar is also thankful for his engineering background when he works with partners overseas. He knows the language. 

“It’s nice to be able to push back on some of the things the factory says,” he said. “I know otherwise because of my engineering background and building hundreds of bikes.” His understanding and education keep him highly involved despite the building happening a world away.

Does Sklar feel less of a craftsman? Has he lost touch with his art? Sklar doesn’t think so. “When I bend my seat stays, it changes over time. Eventually, I know exactly how to do them every time. All the things in the production frames are what I’ve arrived on building hundreds of frames,” Sklar said. “Even though my hands weren’t on them, they wouldn’t exist without me. Where do you want to draw the line?”

Sklar worried about his customers being upset after hearing production was moving overseas, but it hasn’t come.

“I was bracing for some negative feedback,” Sklar said, “but I haven’t really gotten any. But there’s no world where I continue to do the custom stuff. I don’t believe in it. Now, I’m making bikes for my friends…this feels more like me than ever before.”

The article After Long Lead Times and High Prices, Handbuilt Sklar Bikes is Moving Production Overseas appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

Every year going into Red Bull Rampage, it’s anyone’s guess who will win. While an athlete may have cooked themselves up a dream run, things go wrong in practice, seamlessly linking parts of the mountain together is always a challenge, and wind is an ever-present element lurking in the background.

If you watched this year’s Rampage, at the end of the first set of runs, you may not have assumed Cam Zink would win, after he stalled out on the lower part of the mountain. In 2018, he pulled out of the event after an injury in practice and in 2019, he finished last after crashing on both runs.

Following a weird dream the morning of finals, Zink, 37, told himself he was going to win. And then, despite the botched first run, he stuck an incredible second with a massive backflip over a step down and earned a score no one else could match.

We caught up with the two time Rampage winner after the desert dust settled and he’d returned to his home in Hawaii to learn about his preparation, the win, his Washed Up video, and his thoughts on retiring.

You’re living in Hawaii now? I thought it may have been just for the recent video. What prompted the move?

My wife hates the cold. We’ve been in Reno for a long time. She just hates winters. We all snowboard as a family, but they don’t enjoy it as much as surfing. And I kind of promised her a long time ago, that we can live in Reno for a while and then we can move anywhere, and she’s holding me to it and ended up liking it, and I don’t really want to leave. We still have our property in Reno, and our house rented, and right now we’re just renting here, but we don’t really want to leave.

How is the riding in Hawaii?

The riding scene on Maui is better than I really anticipated. It’s not a ton of quantity, but there’s some real quality stuff. The original thought was (my wife) wanted to move to Hawaii and I’m like, well of course we’re going to move to Oahu because I know there’s riding there. It’s not the greatest but there’s some, and then come to find Maui is way more prevalent and a better scene.

I guess there’s more [bike] shops per capita and more trails per capita. The Makawoa trail system, there’s like one main flow trail, there’s some other machine-built stuff, but there’s five trails total with a couple of illegal ones and a little skills park and that’s about it. It’s world class for sure. It’s just not massive.

Awesome. Well, Congrats on the Rampage victory. How did you celebrate?

It’s pretty family-ish, you know. We went to Vegas and stayed two nights and just played in the pool with the kids, bought mama some shoes and Prada and things like that. Pretty mellow compared to the old days or even like life without kids, but pretty sweet.

And then I had to drive my truck and trailer and UTV back to Reno. Amanda and the kids flew out and I got to celebrate with some of my friends in Reno for a day or two and then come back here. So now celebration is trying to relax and surf as much as possible.

It’s gotta be hectic going into Rampage, right?

Oh yeah, you never feel like you can do enough. Even down to getting your bikes organized and built and then having contractual obligations to film, building the bike and getting custom wheels and paint jobs and all like the custom helmets and kits. Even that’s quite a bit of logistics, let alone prepping, riding, building, getting your team ready, all the above.

What did you have in mind for Rampage this year going into it?

I knew exactly what I wanted to do, and I actually scaled it back a fair bit. This was a second year build. We built the majority of the line last year–Kyle and I–he’s got a different entrance point from the top, but after the top couple hundred feet of vert, we’re in the same same lines and I knew what the line was going to be, what I hoped to make it, and improve on it, what tricks I wanted to do, and I think I ended up working out really well, because there’s nothing to practice much here.

I have an airbag but it doesn’t have as good of a roll in as I’d like, but I spent more of my time just visualizing. I’d get up every morning before anyone in the house was awake and sit on the back and visualize my run every morning. And even though I ended up altering (my run), it still gets you prepared for when you’re in the gate, and there’s zero shock. You’re more inclined to go into autopilot. And that’s kind of the easy part, right? Like when all the muscle memory takes over. The actual run is usually kind of easy because you kind of black out and let everything happen.

When you say visualize your run is that meditative or what does that look like?

I guess. It’s pretty meditative. I’m closing my eyes and sitting in a relaxed position like you would when you’re when you’re meditating. Just like meditating you’re trying to block out any other thoughts, or any deterrent.

I remember hearing this from a Cirque de Sole performer a long time ago that when you’re visualizing, if there’s a hiccup in it, then that’s what you need to work on. Pretty easy once you hear it, but you wouldn’t really think about it that simply. And I’ve found in the past, there’s been some things that I can’t really visualize, and there’s a hiccup somewhere or I can’t visualize it entirely. And then by the time I need to do it, it clicks. It’s kind of funny, if it works in your head, there’s a very high probability it can work in reality. And I remember hearing that Sam Hill used to be able to do that with his race runs and it would be within a second or two of its actual race run, which is pretty phenomenal.

So you’ve got the visualization going on every morning and then you go into your first run and it looked like you had lost some speed going into one segment from another, but you stalled out on the first run. What changed between runs one and two?

I don’t know, I guess I was trying to have too tight of margins, because that jump before it was a pretty flat landing, so you could actually over clear it and not really lose speed, or normally if you land low on a landing out of a jump, you lose a ton of speed. So I hadn’t came up short and I jumped that jump about six, seven times, maybe more and didn’t mess up once. I knew the speed. I felt great. I was just trying to set up really wide for the next few tricks we had to turn in and needed as much speed as possible.

So I tried to land right at the top of the landing on the far left and I came up about six inches short. And the left side of the landing that was like a foot away from the sandbags was pretty soft. I didn’t even realize it–that fill dirt was under there instead of the bentonite that was on top of the rest of the landing and I sunk in and there’s no way I could have possibly cleared it.

So everyone’s like, “oh, that was a crazy decision. You made the right call.” And I was like there wasn’t any other call at all. There’s no way possible that I could have cleared the jump.

So the second run I kind of switched my mindset from focus on your own race and switched over to more of just a straight competitive mindset. Kind of more angry, instead of relaxed and slightly nervous and even though (the judges) say they don’t, second rounds always end up being a little bit of a higher score.

So it was like, do what you can do, flip your mindset, turn the negative into a positive, and it worked out. I love it when I can resort to my subconscious and I can let things just roll without overthinking.

Like, the morning of finals I woke up from a bad dream with a vivid visualization of me laying on the ground with everyone over me and a pretty vivid crash, and everyone’s like “you’re gonna be alright.” And it was a pretty shitty way to wake up. And I didn’t tell my wife, I didn’t tell anyone, I just flipped it in my head and said, “That’s just everyone tackling me after going through the finish line, because I’m gonna win this thing. And everyone’s gonna talk to me and I’ll be laying on the ground.” And that’s the visualization. It wasn’t me needing oxygen, you know? Yeah, it’s all a big mental game, that’s for sure.

And then you finish your second run and what did you expect for your score? What were you feeling after?

Well, you never know what the judges are gonna like that day, what they’re gonna appreciate, if they’re not seeing something on your line that is super exposed and dangerous or very difficult. But I got a little bit of an inkling from two of the judges earlier in the week, because, there’s no rules against asking them their honest opinion about what if I tried this and they both kind of said, I wouldn’t waste your run on that. They didn’t say your run has the ability to win, but they said you have a potentially winning run and I don’t think it’s going to add to it.

So I knew they were stoked on what I had planned. They knew the measurements, how big everything was and how exposed things are. So I had an idea, but when Brendan came down, I thought we were kind of in trouble, because I didn’t think that run should have scored that high, but I don’t know. But then Tom and Carson came down which is more similar to my line, and I was like sweet, if I land this, there’s a good chance I’m gonna win, but I’ve come through the finish corral numerous times thinking that’s the winning run and the judges have other ideas.

But when I saw Tom and Carson doing a train down because they weren’t going to try and beat (my run), it was too big of a points gap, I was just blown away. It was one of the greatest moments in my life, for sure.

It’s ironic that the Washed Up video came out right before Rampage, and then you clinched the win with your second run. Obviously there is a message behind the video. Tell me about it and the timeliness of the release around Rampage.

It worked out better in the end. I was trying to get it planned and trying to get budget approvals and especially with a massive corporation like Monster, trying to get filmers here, everything lagged for one reason or another and we didn’t start filming until March. We were hoping to have it out mid-summer, but it ended up being serendipitous to be right before Rampage.

But the idea was just to make a cool, fun, short film, kind of 80s style. And something different where I’m not just completely risking my life, but a really cool piece of film. And a lot of fun making it. But I definitely tried to make some jokes about me being washed up and old having having the classic retired guy car, and poking fun at some sponsors and stuff that might think that I’m just taking money and running to Maui, things like that.

Because I know what’s going on in my own head and what my motivations are and what I’m capable of. So it was time to just show and prove that it’s a bit irony.

I think for a lot of athletes who have been competing a while and then get the Super Bowl ring or whatever, it feels like a natural time to retire or to move on, but it doesn’t sound like that’s the case?

No, I’m leaving it open ended. I just still love to do it. I didn’t think that I would still be doing it at 37. I didn’t think I’d want to be doing it at 37 or be capable of it. But I still feel like I’m getting better in a lot of ways. I’m not as tenacious or I guess as big of a risk taker on a daily basis as I was when I was younger, but that’s also just to keep longevity, but I do still feel like I’m getting better in a lot of ways. And I just love it too damn much.

Rampage win or lose, it’s still some of the best times of my life and being on the hill. And some of the most brutal working conditions from sunup to sundown, 12+ hour days with your good friends and the moments I’ll cherish forever win or lose, but then when you add on a win–I mean literally two of the best days of my life are on that mesa, or actually three; when I when I flipped the original Oakley Sender in 2013, my wife was nine months pregnant, I’d just clipped my femoral artery and almost died mountain biking a couple of weeks prior.

I was dealing with a giant pocket of fluid in my hip. It was getting infected, and they wanted to cut me open and wouldn’t let me out of the hospital in the days leading up to it. All of that was at the same 100 by 100 foot area. I got the win in 2010, got the FMB World Title that day as well when it was a series that involved Rampage.

Literally three of the best moments of my life. And I don’t want to give that up. I want to keep going as long as I can. Because I’m never gonna retire and come back. When it’s done, it’s done. It could be tomorrow. It could be 10 years from now, but it could be next year. I don’t know. But I never want to do it for the money. We don’t get paid that much money anyway. But you know, I just love it too much.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity

The article Cam Zink on Winning Rampage, Meditation, Bad Dreams, and Not Retiring [Interview] appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

While most of us interpret mountain biking as something we do on a trail, one of our sport’s biggest events in the world happens without dedicated trails, but still with diggers and riders.

Freeriding also doesn’t need to be something reserved for the pros, and it can happen with tricks on a jump trail or on any appropriate mountain. Chances are, if you’ve ridden in enough places, you’ve probably passed somewhere you can freeride and it can be a relatively liberating and creative experience.

Give us your definition for “freeriding” in the comments below.

The article Have you Ever Tried Freeriding? appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

The Union Cycliste Internationale (UCI) announced the 2024 mountain bike race schedule yesterday, and next year’s stops are set to include new venues in the Americas and in Europe.

Kicking off the season, cross-country (XCO and XCC) athletes will square off in two sets of races in Brazil in the states of São Paulo and Minas Gerais. The last time Brazil hosted a cross-country UCI event was in 2022, in Petrópolis. Prior to that a UCI-level mountain bike race had not been held in Brazil for almost 20 years.

Lake Placid, New York is another new venue of the XCO and XCC competitions next year. The races will be held at Mt Van Hoevenberg, which hosted several events during the 1980 Winter Olympics.

On the gravity side, Bielsko-Biala, Poland will host downhill (DHI) and enduro (EDR) races in 2024. According to the UCI, the gravity trails at Bielsko-Biala were built starting in 2015, and have become one of the most popular riding spots in the country.

Aletsch Arena / Bellwald in Valais, Switzerland is another new venue for 2024, and like Bielsko-Biala is also hosting DHI and EDR races.

Haute-Savoie, France is the only location that is hosting the full complement of UCI mountain bike events including XCO, XCC, DHI, and EDR. And only two other venues will mix cross-country and gravity events in 2024: Val di Sole, Italy and Vallnord, Andorra where the World Championships are scheduled.

Not on this year’s list: Australia, which hosted two EDR races in 2023. No 2024 events are scheduled for Africa or Asia either. World Cup Downhill will not see any events in the U.S. either, and the EDR (enduro) is entirely in European countries.

Not everyone is stoked with the upcoming schedule. The 2024 UCI Mountain Bike World Cup schedule includes seven DHI races, down from nine in 2023. Many commenters, including Santa Cruz Bicycles, are voicing their displeasure on the UCI Instagram post announcing the 2024 calendar.

A roughly two-month gap in the XCC schedule will give cross-country mountain bike athletes time to compete in the 2024 Paris Olympics.

The schedule for cross-country marathon (XCM) events has not been published yet, though the location for the World Champs is set for August 1, 2024 at Snowshoe in West Virginia, USA.

The article 2024 World Cup MTB Adds Stops in New York, Poland, Brazil; Reduces # of DH Races appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

This year, we saw one heck of a Red Bull Rampage. In case you missed it, here is the replay for Red Bull Rampage 2023.

From Red Bull: Now on its 17th edition, Red Bull Rampage brings the world’s top riders to the toughest terrain in the world to showcase the biggest and baddest tricks, lines and sends the sport has seen yet!

The inaugural Red Bull Rampage was held in 2001. Since then, 16 different events and 10 different winners have made history in the world’s toughest freeride mountain bike event.

• Run 1: 0:00
• Intro 2:28
• Adolf Silva 9:19
• Alex Volokhov 12:58
• Talus Turk 17:50
• Brendan Fairclough (4th) 22:56
• Kyle Strait 28:16
• Bienvenido Aguado Alba 35:57
• DJ Brandt 42:56
• Jaxson Riddle 46:13
• Kurt Sorge 54:20
• Tom Van Steenbergen🥈(2nd) 1:01:02
• Cam Zink 1:09:24
• Emil Johansson (7th) 1:17:47
• Clemens Kaudela 1:22:20
• Carson Storch🥉(3rd) 1:29:05
• Thomas Genon 1:33:35
• Reed Boggs 1:39:02
• Szymon Godziek Run 2: 1:57:52
• Adolf Silva 2:02:27
• Talus Turk (5th) 2:10:26
• Cam Zink🥇(1st) 2:15:31
• Clemens Kaudela 2:24:47
• Jaxson Riddle 2:30:03
• Kyle Strait (6th) 2:34:10
• Reed Boggs 2:38:12
• Thomas Genon 2:41:13
• Bienvenido Aguado Alba (8th) 2:46:42
• Emil Johansson 2:51:58 Carson Storch & Tom Van Steenbergen

#redbullrampage

The article REPLAY: Red Bull Rampage 2023 [Video] appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

Stumpjumpers and Hightowers are awesome bikes, but, for the most part, they are a dime a dozen. Not many folks crowd around complete strangers at a trailhead to ask them about their Stumpy Evo. This does happen, however, when the bike in question is truly unique.

The trick for starting and building a small bike company is to have a quality that matches the uniqueness. And that is precisely what Chris Currie is trying to do with Ministry Cycles.

After a year of giving Ministry a full go, we met with Currie to chat about his journey through the bike industry, his suspension design, and starting his brand.

Chris Currie’s bicycle background

Dirt bikes were Currie’s first passion as a kid growing up in Pennsylvania. Running out of places to ride his dirt bike, Currie was introduced to the mid-80s mountain bike scene and quickly dove in.

Currie first fell in love with mountain biking conceptually before owning a bike. Eventually, he got his first mountain bike, a used Jamis. 

“It is ironic in hindsight,” Currie said, referencing the brand that would eventually license his suspension system. “I managed to get a used Jamis Dakota from a friend. I was in love with it.”

The feeling of freedom on a mountain bike hooked Currie as a kid. His new passion for mountain biking developed through the late ’80s and early ’90s while mountain bike innovation took off. 

“As I started to get more involved, every day, you would see some whacky new design. It was an incredibly exciting time,” Currie said. Change and innovation within the industry grabbed Currie’s attention and made him want to dive in even deeper.

But, diving into the industry deeper didn’t necessarily have mean he could make it work full-time. Not yet, anyway.

“My background is all in English, which is funny to people who presume I have some sort of engineering background,” Currie explained. Thinking he would be a teacher, Currie earned an English writing degree and worked briefly as a college professor.

Working as a college professor in the early ’90s wasn’t the standard 9 to 5 that other occupations offered. Currie found himself filling his extra time working at a buddy’s bike shop. He quickly connected with the customers over a mutual love of bikes.

This course of life remained relatively constant until the mid-’90s when something happened that changed Currie’s life and, in a way, all of our lives in the future.

Speedgoat, and Currie’s first bike businesses

While working at his friend’s bike shop, Currie began selling components online through early mountain bike classifieds and places like eBay.

“I managed to sell a fork to someone who was in, I think, Singapore,” he said. “I had an old Judy fork, and somebody bought it online. I shipped it off, and the transaction was really smooth.” Currie’s first overseas sale and the seamlessness of it surprised him.

In 1997, Currie found an old one-room schoolhouse in the mountains of Southwest Pennsylvania, rented it, and opened his own shop, Speedgoat. The idea was to sell locally from the storefront and emphasize an online presence. As you can imagine, few bike shops sold products online then.

“To be on the internet at all back then was a wild ride,” Currie said. “To put it in perspective, I never had a Gmail address. We were actually selling stuff online before Gmail existed.” Speedgoat was before ads and much of the current marketing that we see today.

Speedgoat was early to the modern content marketing game. Currie used his background in English and writing to “write the most insane product descriptions you could find on the internet,” he said.

And people seemed to love them. According to Currie, Speedgoat took the same customer service and care aspect found in their brick-and-mortar store and applied it to the online store. They leaned into custom bike builds.

More than a decade has passed since Speedgoat’s closing, and Currie still connects with people who were customers at his old shop. 

“I live on the other side of the United States right now and I’ve been on rides with people who realized they have bought things from me.”

On the Rise with 3VO Suspension

Currie ran Speedgoat for about 15 years before selling it in 2010. He fully stepped away not long after.

During his time at Speedgoat, Currie, inspired by all the bikes he was selling, toyed with frame and suspension design. 

“Coming from a motorcycle world, I was always into suspension,” he said. “I fell in love with that and started doing my own designs.”

With the help of engineering friends and learning computer programs, Currie played with a handful of his original suspension designs. Eventually, he fell in love with one that worked well with 29-inch wheels, something relatively uncommon at the time.

Currie’s suspension, or 3VO, is a dual-link design with co-rotating links. The design gives the platform anti-squat and anti-rise characteristics that Currie likes. Currie claims 3VO allows him to create a bike at around 105% anti-squat and 100% anti-rise. 

He applied for a patent in 2007, which was granted in 2010. “It was around the time Yeti came out with the original Switch. It was the closest thing to what I had been working on and really validated my design,” Currie said. 

He left Speedgoat with his newly patented 3VO suspension design for the West Coast to work in cycling e-commerce as the sales and marketing director of Velotech. Currie eventually left Velotech and became the Creative Director of Stan’s NoTubes. 

It was during this time that Currie connected with Jamis Bikes. “They liked the suspension design after they rode some of the proof of concept bikes I sent. Jamis licensed the 3VO system to use and try to get a strong foothold in the world of mountain bikes,” Currie said. Jamis still uses Currie’s design. 

Currie remained at Stan’s until 2022, where he had his hand in nearly everything, from packaging and marketing to ambassadors and sponsoring teams. But, with the success of 3VO, Currie wanted to see what else he could do. Ministry Cycles was born.

Building Ministry Cycles

Currie designed Ministry around his 3VO suspension platform. He also wanted to bring back the old days of going to cycling trade shows and finding the small, unique brands mixed in with the industry giants. 

“I wanted to be the small builder, but not making gravel bikes,” Currie said. “A high-tech, small builder.”

The industry’s innovation and new ways of designing bikes speak to Currie and he sought to move away from the traditional methods of making mountain bike frames.

“So I ended up with a desire to pursue a CNC’d frame design.”

Currie’s first design was a 150mm trail bike, The Psalm 150, with the front triangle CNC’d out of a single piece of aluminum. The front triangle is produced in two halves and later bonded together. 

Currie pursued machining over traditional tooling for the preciseness and high repeatability of the machining process. Plus, the CNC route gave Currie the option of producing a dozen or so frames at a time, substantially less than the contract options for carbon or aluminum frames. This allows Currie to tweak his design, if needed, without major financial impacts. 

As initial runs of the frame came out, Ministry hit a speed bump. “I’m still riding one of those CNC machine frames, but I ran into problems with lab testing,” Currie said. While the Psalm 150 Currie rides performed wonderfully, he reported on Ministry Cycle’s Instagram that the frame he sent to the lab cracked around hose ports.

Not all boutique builders are putting their frames through testing, a step Currie isn’t willing to skip. Ministry frames are tested to industry standards.

This failure would be a costly problem for Ministry and could potentially end the company before it began. However, Currie was so impressed with the stiffness and ride quality of the CNC frames that he wasn’t finished pursuing that option.

Fortunately, Currie can put the CNC option in the backseat for now because new possibilities have come up.

Ministry Cycles on the horizon

Boutique bike builders have often stayed within the realm of hardtails. The artistry and craft is phenomenal, but having a proven suspension system is often out of reach. Currie hopes to change that by offering his 3VO rear triangles to small frame builders.

“You got a lot of really skilled artisans out there with amazing frames, but they’re limited to hardtails,” Currie said, hoping to help them break through to the next level with his proven suspension design. 

Jackalope Bikes out of Revelstoke, BC, is one such bike company benefiting from Currie’s 3VO suspension. Jackalope pairs a steel front triangle with the CNC’d 3VO to complete a uniquely rad bike they hope to launch in 2024.

Currie is also pursuing different front triangle options for Ministry and hoping to offer various options to customers in the future. With the failure of the CNC test frame, Currie has been testing a titanium frame. 

The titanium front triangle has been a completely different riding experience than the CNC option for Currie. He sees an opportunity for customers to fully customize the ride characteristics of their Psalm 150 by choosing a different frame material.

“The CNC aluminum is almost like metal-plated carbon,” Currie said, “and the titanium is so unique. I look forward to trying a steel front triangle and a welded aluminum. I see the potential to be a custom shop that can talk about the different ride characteristics of each and offer something different for everyone.”

Everything seems to come back around as Currie takes a nod from his Speedgoat days. 

The article Innovator Chris Currie’s Latest Design is an Enduro Bike, Fully Customizable appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

If you follow World Cup Downhill racing, you may have noticed an absence of female racers representing America near the top. In fact, an American woman hasn’t taken the top spot for quite a while. You have to look back to 1997 when Missy Giove won the overall for the second year in a row.

Giove had a 2nd place run for a few years after that, with her final runner-up year being 2001. Actually, 2001 was the last year America had a racer on the podium in the women’s event, with Giove nabbing silver at Arai Mountain in Japan.

Over 20 years have passed since, and America still struggles to have consistent female race results in downhill racing. Perhaps until now. Enter Anna Newkirk. 

The 22-year-old downhiller has easily put herself in the top 20 of the world’s best and is consistently knocking at the door of top 10 finishes. This year, Newkirk had three top-ten results and just missed the podium in Les Gets where she placed 6th. And she took gold in USAC National Champs in North Carolina. We sat down with Newkirk to find out how she climbed closer to the podium in a field dominated by Europeans.  

From Four-Cross to Downhill

Newkirk was born and lived in Salt Lake City, Utah as a child. Growing up, Newkirk and her siblings rode and raced BMX, which served as her introduction to life on a bicycle.

In 2009, when Newkirk was nearly 8-years-old, her family left the States for Switzerland to pursue a job opportunity. BMX then took a back seat in Newkirk’s life. 

“There was a bit of a hiatus when we moved where I didn’t ride that much,” said Newkirk. “I rode a little bit of BMX but it wasn’t easy to find a track or people who rode. Then there was a time I didn’t ride at all.”

Newkirk started mountain biking when her older brother got into the sport. Initially, she was racing four-cross but jumped at the opportunity to race downhill as soon as she was old enough. 

“I did my first race in 2012, so I was ten, turning eleven.” 

Newkirk found herself in a fairly large “Under-13” category at that first race. Despite being one of the only girls in the mixed category, Newkirk took third place overall at that race. Looking back, this was one moment where Newkirk saw that she might be a little different on the bike than others.

Four-cross stayed in Newkirk’s life for a handful of years. “Four-cross was kind of the thing I did on the side and downhill was the main show,” Newkirk told us. Her last four-cross race was in 2019 in Val di Sole. In the years following, Newkirk shifted her focus solely on downhill.

World Cup racing always seemed to be in the stars for Newkirk and her Swiss team, Team Project. At the age of 16, Newkirk came onto the World Cup race stage as a junior. 

“My first World Cup was in Croatia, in Losinj, the one year they had that race. It was a sick venue and a sick track, and I think it’s a shame it’s not on the circuit anymore,” said Newkirk. 

Newkirk’s first season as a junior was full of frustration. At Losinj, she qualified second, but a mechanical plagued her during her race run. Crashes and mechanicals seemed to be a theme during that first year.

Despite what Newkirk calls a “chaotic” first year, she finished second overall.

Turning 19, Newkirk jumped from “juniors” to the “elite” category. Aside from her teammate, Abby Hogie, Newkirk saw very little American representation on the race circuit. 

Newkirk’s team: Beyond Racing

Newkirk met her now teammate, and Beyond Racing’s co-founder Abby Hogie, in 2017 on the race circuit. Over the next few years, Newkirk and Hogie became close friends, traveling and riding together as much as possible despite being on different race teams.

In 2019, Newkirk and Hogie entertained the idea of starting a team. It seemed nearly in jest at first, however. 

“I was on SRAM Young Guns and [Hogie] was on a Pivot team, Pivot Devo I think,” said Newkirk “The idea for a team started as kind of a joke, an idea, but we weren’t actually going to do it.”

Fast forward to 2021, Newkirk is now racing the World Cup circuit as a privateer. She made things work but recognized her situation needed to change. Hogie, at the same time, was unhappy in her team situation. Heading to Val di Sole, the two women discussed this “joke” once again, and wondered about the viability.

“We were on our way to Worlds, in the car together, and said, ‘Okay, what if we actually started this team?’ That day, we got to our hotel and started writing up a portfolio, chatting with sponsors, brainstorming names…”

A week or so later, at Snowshoe, the pair told Elliot Jackson, Newkirk’s friend and “unofficial” mentor about the idea. Jackson loved the idea and wanted to help Newkirk and Hogie get the ball rolling. Jackson helped connect the women with sponsors, logo designers, trainers, and industry people.

“Elliot is a great guy. We’re very grateful for him,’ said Newkirk, referencing all Jackson contributed to the origins of Beyond Racing.

In 2022, Beyond Racing officially made its way onto the world stage. The team rides Contra Bikes, steel frames hand-built by Evan Turpen, a World Cup qualifier and U.S. Nationals racer. 

“The bikes are absolutely insane. I’ve never felt so comfortable on a bike so fast,” she said.

Steel isn’t something that we’re used to seeing on the World Cup circuit. Newkirk doesn’t think she feels an incredible difference comparing Contra to alloy or carbon fiber but there may be more of a mental edge. The durability of steel and Turpen’s quality craftsmanship has Newkirk’s attention off of the frame and on the trail.

Beyond Racing’s sponsors include Giro for apparel and helmets, Maxxis and DT Swiss for tires and wheels, SR Suntour for suspension, and Burgtec and Fidlock for other components. 

Far, far away

The question remains, however, as to why we find so few American women racing World Cup downhill?

Some might call  World Cup downhill racing a European series. While it may be true that a good portion of the races are on the European Continent, that didn’t stop Aaron Gwin from his downhill reign a handful of years ago, and Neko Mulally, Dakotah Norton, Luca Shaw, and others helped round out the category.

And, to be honest, Newkirk does recognize that growing up and living in Switzerland has its advantages. 

“It is a lot easier for me to get to World Cups than other Americans,” said Newkirk.

There are eight World Cup downhill races this year. Six are in Europe and two are in North America. Flights, accommodations, fees—it all starts adding up, especially if the athlete isn’t backed by a team. Plus, the race schedule isn’t racing one weekend after another. Racers often have several weeks before their next destination and next race. That leaves them with the choice of spending more money on a flight back to the States or spending more money on accommodations for two additional weeks in Europe. Just ask Andrew Driscoll.

“Racing World Cups is a lot more accessible for me,” said Newkirk. “I’m at a huge advantage because it’s easy for me to get there, it doesn’t cost me an arm and a leg.”

With getting to the actual World Cup races being substantially easier for Newkirk, it also allows her to sharpen her skills perhaps more than others. World Cups are where the best racers are. This is the competition that Newkirk has the opportunity to go up against weekend after weekend. 

But it isn’t just that Newkirk races against the top riders, or that she lives in Europe, that has her sitting near the top. Newkirk believes in always pushing to improve her skills, and doing so by being stretched outside of her comfort zone.

“Ride with other people,” she said. “Ride with people who are faster than you, ride with people who are good at jumps, good at tech–-learn from those people.” 

Newkirk doesn’t accept mastery of a skill, despite being one of the best in her field. She always knows there is room to grow and improve. “Don’t stop learning,” she added. 

But, to the specific question of why there aren’t many other American women near the top with Newkirk, she said she didn’t know. But, Newkirk points out that some junior women are putting up some good numbers for America and may be on their way to the elite category too. 

Taylor Ostgaard and Abigail Ronca both found a top 10 at Val di Sole. At Lenzerheide, Ostgaard again found a top 10 spot along with another American, Riley Miller. Juniors, yes, but so was Newkirk just a handful of years ago.

So, perhaps Newkirk finds herself in a pioneer position, laying the framework for what will be the United State’s re-entry into women’s World Cup downhill racing. What does Newkirk think about that?

“I don’t know if I’d call myself a pioneer.” 

Newkirk left the title of “pioneer” for women such as Leigh Donovan and Missy Giove.

The article Anna Newkirk is Putting the U.S. Back into Women’s DH World Cup Racing appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

Any opinions expressed in this article belong to the author alone, and do not necessarily represent the opinions of Singletracks.com.

When Red Bull Rampage released its list of 2023 athletes in the middle of September, there were a few surprises, mostly in the name of wildcard invites: Gee Atherton, 38, an early Rampage rider who is retired from World Cup racing was invited back. Talus Turk, a 21-year-old first timer will ride the big red ridges and drops, and 36-year-old Kyle Strait, who broke his back just a year ago at Rampage will return. The list of 18 athletes will provide another great spectacle at the “superbowl” of mountain biking.

But a buzz of discontent has steadily grown louder after Red Bull Rampage released its contender list for 2023. To the dismay of many, a women’s category is still missing at the event, after three years of Red Bull Formation, a women’s-only freeride progression camp, also held in Virgin, Utah.

Formation started in 2019, after endurance athlete and professional mountain biker Rebecca Rusch “took notice of the lack of women’s representation at Red Bull Rampage,” according to Red Bull.

With Red Bull’s association, Formation quickly became the premiere event for women’s freeride, though others like Proving Grounds became the first to let women compete. In 2019, Casey Brown was the sole woman to compete with the men, but Proving Grounds added a women’s category in 2021 and ladies competed again in 2022. Camila Noguiera took gold last year out of ten competitors.

This year it seemed like there was still wind in the sails of women’s freeride mountain biking, but Red Bull “postponed” Formation for 2023 without elaboration. Proving Grounds however announced it is shaking up the event and moving to a new location “to offer the world’s top men and women in freeriding a shot to compete on the world-class new trail systems and parks being built by Carson Storch in the trees along Oregon’s Pacific Coast.”

Why isn’t there a women’s category for Rampage?

By all accounts, it’s unclear why there isn’t a women’s category for Red Bull Rampage since the vast majority of sports today include one, even after slow adoption.

Formula 1, the pinnacle of auto racing announced a new all-female driver series at the end of 2022, with the goal to “maximize the opportunity and potential of young female drivers to reach the highest level in motorsport,” and to ultimately funnel into the “F1 Pyramid” from F3 to F1. The last time a woman drove in an F1 race was close to 50 years ago, writes the New York Times.

Mixed martial arts, widely seen as the most brutal and risky of all sports has enjoyed female competition since 1997 and women have fought in the Ultimate Fighting Championship for ten years now. In 2011, UFC President Dana White was convinced women wouldn’t make it to the league’s ranks because of the available talent pool and varied level of skill, according to a UFC blog. A woman by the name Ronda Rousey changed his mind.

The first ever women’s UFC fight pitted Rousey against fighter and Marine Corps veteran Liz Carmouche for a quick and exciting victory by Rousey in 2013.

Legendary fighter Gina Carano would likely argue that building a talent pool has much to do with having representation in the sport.

“Going to the UFC fights, I remember sitting up in the last row and thinking, ‘Someday, someday,’” Carano said in the UFC blog. “And being able to watch other women experience that and doing it with such confidence, it’s really changed a lot. At one point, it was bad to be female and walk in a gym, and people don’t understand that. But now they’re all looking for the next female fighter that’s going to make it. When I was training, it was a lot harder. Now little girls can put on gis at whatever age, and not having to see them struggle through what I kind of went through really has an emotional impact on me.”

Todd Barber, co-founder or Rampage has told different publications he believes Rampage has always been reserved for the top layer of the talent pool in mountain biking and women have yet to surface. The belief assumes that women would have to compete directly with men though which would be unique for most sports.

If we looked at perhaps the most closely related discipline to freeride mountain biking, we’d see downhill World Cup mountain bike racing. There are obvious differences in the times achieved in women’s and men’s categories, the size of both categories and varying levels of support and sponsorship for athletes of different sexes, but women have been competing at the highest level of gravity mountain bike racing for 30 years now.

Freeride snowboarding also provides a clear lens to examine the absence of a female category at Rampage. In fact, the Natural Selection Tour, a big mountain snowboarding contest which combines the elements of freeride and slopestyle snowboarding (sound familiar?) over three stops partnered with Proving Grounds for the first time last year, highlighting the event’s brand name for both summer and winter sports.

Freeride snowboard icon Travis Race held the first Natural Selection at his home mountain in Jackson Hole, Wyoming in 2008, but the event stalled for a few years and was rebranded as The Supernatural. The event reappeared as the Natural Selection Tour in January 2021 with eight male competitors, four females and three different stops in Jackson Hole, Baldface, BC and Alaska.

Natural Selection contains similar constraints as Rampage, if they aren’t greater. The events are held in snowy, remote backcountry locations and they are arguably more difficult to access and broadcast.

As the buzz of discontent with Rampage has grown over the past week, more people have become outspoken about the issue, including two-time Rampage winner Brett Rheeder who posted on an Instagram story he believes women should have a spot at Rampage.

We emailed Red Bull to request comment and a representative said the brand is discussing the matter but did not have any further information to share. We’ll provide any updates as soon as an official statement is made.

The article As Red Bull Rampage Weighs a Women’s Category, it Should Look at Other Sports appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

I remember sitting in the back of a hot shuttle van one spring day, sputtering up the windy Sand Flats road to ride the Whole Enchilada for the first time. My friend and I had started mountain biking just a year ago and over the winter, we’d bought our first full-suspension rigs and decided to take our first bike trip.

Stoke spilled out of our souls and into our smiles. As I double checked my pack and riding kit for the 30+ mile ride, my buddy said something that’s always stuck with me.

“This is it man, our bike experience is already about to peak!” I understood what he was saying. We were new riders about to ride one of the world’s most renowned trails without having to pedal to the top. People travel all over the world to ride these trails. How exactly would a 10-mile loop on a trail I ride once a month back home ever match this level of excitement again?

Being new and all, we were cracked the next day. Our legs were heavy and our forearms hurt. It was our third day in a row of riding and we didn’t feel like doing much of anything. So for our last morning in Moab, we grabbed some burritos, loaded up the car, and drove home.

That summer, I rode a handful of new trails and at a lift-served bike park for the first time. I’ve also planned dozens of mountain bike trips since then–back to Moab, to Crested Butte, New Mexico, and eventually all over the world. But my home trails are where I ride the most and ten years later, I still get excited to ride that 10-mile loop I’ve ridden a hundred times.

What’s the purpose of a mountain bike vacation?

Usually, there are three seasons when I take a bike vacation and each season has a different reason: In spring, I’m itching to ride because my local trails have been frozen for four months and I’m going a little crazy. In the summer, trails are generally in great condition anywhere on the map or at least the Northern hemisphere and any destination is accessible. This is the time to visit that bucket list destination. In the fall, I am dreading the incoming snow and want to give the season a proper sendoff.

The weather factors into traveling to mountain bike, but it’s not always the primary factor. Traveling to ride is the antithesis of mountain biking at home. Traveling is a gateway to new experiences and experience shapes perspective. I’ve always been under the influence that traveling is a great way to grow as a person and traveling to ride is a great way to grow as a mountain biker.

On one of my first media trips five years ago to Vermont, I landed with this underlying belief that I was going to crush the trails on the East Coast. The air is thicker and the mountains are flatter. Little did I know how much rain could accumulate on the skinny nets of roots woven all over the singletrack and how terrible I was at riding anything wet. To this day, I remember that week of wet riding whenever I find myself in slick soil and need to reign in my skills.

Lastly, traveling is a break. It’s a break from your routine and monotony at home and if you can plan a trip with your friends and all experience something new together on your bikes, then you create the currency of great memories which never lose value.

Why home trails are always the (next) best thing

If we only did things when we were excited about them, what would be the point of doing them at all? Work, exercising, doing something spontaneously for your spouse… riding your bike? Sure, you can do these things only when you feel like it, just don’t expect it to help maintain your progress. Without commitment, there is no progression. While trips to another riding locale may help you develop your skills, it means nothing if you’re not riding regularly–on your home trails–to keep you at the proper level.

Not only are your chances better for maintaining a better level of fitness and technical skills on your home trails, there might be a better chance of progressing overall if your riding network is strong enough. How many times have you nabbed a PR on a segment at home because you were chasing a friend down a section they felt more comfortable on, and how many times have you pumped the brakes on a feature out of state because you didn’t want to ruin your trip? There are obviously exceptions, but I know for me it’s far more often.

While new trails are exciting to experience there’s something to be said for riding a trail you’ve already ridden 50 times on good days; you know every crevice, rock and berm, when to lift and when to pump. That’s the benefit of having accessible trails close by. The trails we want to ride often present barriers of time and money.

Lastly, home trails provide that little bit of escapism on a regular basis. Vacations are a nice, complete pressure release from home responsibilities and routine but weekend or pre-work rides are that little bit of pressure release we need during the week to keep our pipes intact.

I get excited any time I start stuffing socks and jerseys in a bag to go on a trip and I think about putting my skills to the test on new terrain or the people I’ll meet. It’s a different kind of excitement I get when I’ve had a crappy week for whatever reason, but I’m meeting up with a friend for a ride and I can vent about it or we just happen to both have a Wednesday free of responsibility. Home trails always provide the space for it to happen.

The article There’s no Place Like Your Home Trails appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

The bicycle is a simple machine, in its very essence. Humans are simple machines, too. We’re made of a frame, some components to propel us, a few squishy bits to absorb the bumps and all sorts of paint jobs decorating our outsides. Both are tools with the capability to accomplish a wide variety of tasks. The MADE Bike Show in Portland, Oregon not only offered a space for a whole bunch of flesh-covered frames to come together, share in community, and ogle at gorgeous, hand-built bikes; it served as a reminder that both machines – the human being and the bicycle – are, most importantly, conduits for experiencing joy.

Held in the historic Zidell Yard Barge Building, an iconic decommissioned ship breaking and manufacturing facility that also housed Tube Forgings of America, the 2023 MADE Bike Show was right at home in the post-industrial venue nestled along the waterfront in South Portland. During its debut event, this handmade bike show hosted hundreds of frame builders and makers from around the globe, with both industry-only and public facing show days. Needless to say, an endless supply of ingenuity, artistry, craftsmanship and one-off bike nerdery was available for the taking. Amongst all that eye candy and innovation, we found a few note-worthy hand built full suspension bikes we thought you’d enjoy, along with a bit about the humans behind the torches that made them.

Rosario Bike Co. Full Suspension

Kevin Foss of Rosario Bike Co. showed a beautiful fillet-brazed, single-pivot, full-suspension steel MTB frame at MADE. Built for his 12-year-old daughter – a capable but non-aggressive rider that currently prioritizes the magic of the woods and being with her friends over the thrill of the ride itself – the bike is a solid short-travel platform perfect for the tight, rooty trails in the builder’s hometown of Anecortes, WA. 

“The goal was to make a bike that helps her clean more climbs, tackle more roll downs and is just more comfortable to ride than her old hardtail,” said Foss. He built his first bicycle frame in 2020 and has loved riding bikes for as long as he can remember. From his childhood rides around the campground to enduro racing as an adult and finally finding passion in coaching MTB, Foss came into frame building out of frustration with off-the-shelf bikes. 

He’d find himself wanting to adjust the bike’s geometry when coaching, saying “I felt like I’d get a rider to be balanced and moving well on the bike, but their weight wasn’t really balanced between the wheels on the terrain they were riding. I just wanted to start moving the position of the axles, bottom bracket, seat, and handlebars.” 

Foss spent some time working in his uncle’s welding fabrication shop in his earlier days and after about five years of knowing he wanted to build bikes, he finally picked up the hacksaw and torch. 

“I fell in love with the process of building and really enjoyed riding the bike I’d made,” he said. Foss was also motivated to spend time in the shop with his dad whose hobby is metalworking.

“We now share a space and I can be working on a bike while he’s puttering on a project.”

The Rosario full suspension is a steel frame that looks super clean. Its elegant single pivot rear suspension design lends 120mm of rear travel and is set up with a Cane Creek Inline Air shock. It’s paired with a RockShox Pike Select 130mm fork, and built up with a Microshift Advent drivetrain, SRAM Dub BSA bottom bracket, an Industry Nine Classic Trail wheelset with a 29- inch wheel up front and a 27.5- inch wheel in the rear. She’s a beauty with the matching Industry Nine headset and stem.

Rounded out with Wren Carbon bars and a sure-to-be-comfy Reform Tantalus saddle, Foss’s daughter is one lucky rider. Geometry for this classy and functional machine includes a 65° head tube angle, a 78° effective seat tube angle, 420mm reach, 603mm stack, and a 1,164mm wheelbase.

Foss said his goals with Rosario are multi-faceted at this point and he wants custom framebuilding to be a sustainable portion of how he supports his family.

“The challenge right now is to just get more exposure and find people beyond my local circle of friends and family who are looking for what I offer. The dream is to be able to make something I’m proud of, get paid fairly for it, have time to ride and hang out with great people in cool places, and contribute to a thriving local cycling community. I also want to do more pumptrack and bikepark design and continue helping riders and coaches develop. In my mind, it really all works together.”

Fabbro Industries Type 57x BC Mark II

This is not your typical full-suspension MTB, and it left some of the more linear minded folks at MADE scratching their heads. Born from a motorcycle frame, the Type 57x Bicycle is something along the lines of a hybrid commuter that is at home on mellow trails as well as the paved path to work. Designed and built by Terence Musto of Fabbro Industries, an upstate New York metal fabricator with a diverse background in manufacturing everything from tables to motorcycles. While Musto doesn’t have deep roots in the bike industry, his unique full suspension bicycle frame sort of found its own way to the surface in 2021. 

“During my time in the motorcycle industry, we would build hardtail (rigid) motorcycles and pour 1,500-2,000 hours into these bikes, and they were beautiful, but punishing to ride.” 

So, he dreamed up a frame design that maintained the look of a rigid motorcycle but had a modern rear suspension system, not just a bit of elastomer to take the hit. 

“I knew the suspension had to be tunable, serviceable, and replaceable,” he said. “And I wanted to keep the front triangle open.” 

Once he had a prototype and proof of concept, he hit the ground figuring out how to make his patented Type 57x® Motorcycle frame a market-ready product. Turns out tuning a handmade motorcycle suspension system is quite difficult and when doing customer discovery, he had similar conversations about suspension with 12 potential customers. The same reference to bicycles kept coming up – they’d chosen hardtail bicycles for the simplicity but would prefer a softer ride. Most full suspension MTBs on the market seemed like overkill for their needs, but they still desired some form of rear suspension for riding over a big crack in the pavement while maintaining a casual, seated riding position.

They wanted to both ride the bike lane and hit that bit of urban cutty trail on the way to the coffee shop in capable comfort. Musto decided that since testing and tuning his Type 57x® Motorcycle frame was complex, perhaps he could apply the suspension design to a bicycle frame and fill this niche in the market. With that, the Type 57x BC Mark I arrived. Now in its second iteration, the Type 57x BC Mark II turned heads at MADE. The system has the ability to be applied to a step-thru frame and great potential to become an e-bike offering.

The SRAM-equipped prototype that was on display at MADE features 75mm of travel via two lower extension absorbers in the chain stays, and two upper compression absorbers in the seat stays. Threaded into the receivers of the frame, the shocks are removable and serviceable. The lower shocks are tuned for large bump compliance, the top for small bump compliance. The DeCarbon style gas-over-hydraulic coil shocks have fully tunable valve stacks. Each has a coil spring, a valve stack for both rebound and compression, and a Nitrogen charged floating piston to prevent cavitation of the fluid. 

“We mount accelerometers on the seat tube and run a course, same rider, same speed. Compared to a hardtail, the peak acceleration experienced on our prototypes was 40% lower than that of the hardtail. Which means that we are absorbing/damping 40% of the impact in just 75mm of travel.”

The Type 57x Mark II has a 70° head tube angle, a 72° seat tube angle, 14.25 inch reach, 19- inch stack, a 47-inch wheelbase and is running 27.5-inch wheels. Equipped with 1×12 SRAM GX Eagle group set, SRAM Guide T hydraulic disc brakes, a RockShox Judy, BSA Threaded SRAM Dub Bottom Bracket, and Range handlebars from PNW Components.

“We have a patent for the splined connection between the axle cap, axle block, and rear axle,” said Musto.

“This entire assembly is splined together to avoid one axle block tipping/rocking independently of the other. It turns the rear axle into a torsional member, essentially. If torque is applied unilaterally (let’s say, braking, for example) while just the brake side will have the urge to rock/tip, that torque will be transferred to the drive side via the axle to keep the two sides in unison,” Musto explained.

With all these unique design features, the Type 57x was certainly thought provoking for mainstream bicycle industry brains. Though it may not be every major bike enthusiast’s next addition to the fleet, the bike aims to be the one-bike owner’s do-all rig that also looks good next to the custom Harley chopper in the garage.

“Even though I may not have started this journey in the bicycle world, I’m stoked to be here,” he said. “I’m excited about the prospect of what our Type 57x integrated suspension frame can add to the industry, and hope that we can build out a robust product to deliver real value to riders. That’s what it’s all about for me.”

Acoustic Cycles High Pivot FS V2.0

Growing up in Colorado Springs, Zach Gellar holds his dad responsible for getting him on a mountain bike at an early age. They’d ride local trails on the weekends which led to Gellar dragging his dad up to bike parks in the mountains and eventually racing downhill then working as a bike mechanic in high school and college. After years in commercial construction as a project manager, he decided to use his engineering background to make bike frames and launched Acoustic Cycles in 2019. He loves a good collaboration, and has worked closely with Ignite Components, Pinner Machine Shop, and his lovely wife Angelica who makes the gorgeous Mouse Metalworks head badges that adorn Acoustic Cycles’ custom head tubes from Cobra Framebuilding.

The Acoustic Cycles High Pivot FS V2.0 was “made for the trail and enduro crowd,” said Gellar. The high-pivot suspension platform makes for a great descending bike with the horizontal axle path. However, with very strategic pivot placement, I was also able to make a very capable climber. At 150mm of rear travel, this frame can tackle the bigger roots, rocks and drops on your techier trails but will still be at home on your slightly tamer trails,” he said.

On display were both a medium full suspension frame dressed up in olive green with a RockShox Super Deluxe Ultimate Air shock and a size large frame looking classy in ivory with a RockShox Super Deluxe Ultimate Coil in the rear. Showing off a few head-turners at various booths around the show, Acoustic Cycles was a popular stop for the suspension hungry at MADE. 

Gellar’s full-suspension frames use the High Pivot, 4-Bar, Horst Link Suspension Design. Aesthetically, these bikes will halt you in your tracks, from the custom Ignite T-type 32 tooth chainrings, custom Ignite Catalyst cranksets to the matching rocker links and pretty Industry Nine and Wolftooth bits, all tied together by stunning paint jobs from Dark Matter Finishing. Both have 150mm rear travel and 160mm of squish up front via RockShox Lyrik Ultimate 44mm offset forks. They’re equipped with custom T-47 bottom brackets, SRAM XO Eagle Transmission and SRAM AXS T-Type Pod shifters, SRAM Code Silver Stealth brakes, and custom 29” custom Industry Nine EN300 wheelsets.

The ivory size large Acoustic Cycles High Pivot FS V2.0 has a 482mm reach, 631mm stack height, a 64° head tube angle, 78.1° effective seat tube angle, and a 1,248mm wheelbase. The green medium frame has a 464mm reach, a 622mm stack, 64° head tube angle, a 78.5° effective seat tube angle, and a 1226mm wheelbase.

“Each frame I build is designed and made solely by me in the mountains of Pine, Colorado,” said Gellar. “Every detail is scrutinized from water bottle placement to suspension kinematics to ensure a well thought design and function. I strive to have a client engaged in their frame from conception to hand-off to ensure they have a real bond with our creation. Additionally, I want to be able to point to each piece of raw material and each part to know exactly where it came from. My goal is to use as many domestic parts and pieces of a bike as possible. Getting an email or text from an ecstatic customer who loves the way their bike fits, rides and looks is the ‘WHY’ when I think about building bicycles,” said Gellar.

“It seems that when people talk of handmade, smaller bike builders, that it only means hardtail or rigid bikes. Acoustic Cycles is proof that you can have domestic, handmade frames and still charge the gnarly trails in your area.”

The 2023 MADE Bike Show at Zidell Yards was an amazing showcase of art, community, and the beauty of the simple machine that is a bicycle. There are a lot of ways to design, build, and use a bike, however, the string that weaves us into a community is the joy we get from pedaling, the simplicity of propelling ourselves forward on wheels. There is something extra special about products made by hand and the humans who choose such endeavors. Shout out to the MADE Bike Show staff, volunteers and all the craftspeople and brands that showed up – we can’t wait for the next one.

The article 3 MTB Frame Builders Who MADE Unique Full Suspension Steel Bikes appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

“I’m sure you are a perfectly nice guy, I just really don’t want to see you right now.” He nodded with a small smile but something in it indicated he was merely acknowledging that sounds had come from my mouth. And why should he understand? We were in Austria and I do not speak German. 

Staring down the barrel of a seven-day mountain bike stage race over the Austrian, Swiss and Italian Alps, I was undertrained and overwhelmed. And now here were the tail gunners—the five or so dudes riding last each day to pick up the stragglers, the lost, the injured, and to take down route markings. Their presence meant I was DFL—Dead Fucking Last. 

I had done this race—the TransAlp—once before, in 2016 so I was aware of the pain cave I’d voluntarily entered. Turns out seven more years on the engine, five months less training and a dithering bout of Covid can wreak havoc. Who knew? Bike TransAlp began in 1998 and was thus celebrating its 25^th anniversary. Routes, mileage and elevation change slightly every year, and it seems that race organizers were searching for a sort of masochistic “best of” to celebrate this milestone. At 308 miles and 57,000 feet of climbing—and not all of it on the bike mind you—it may not have been the absolute hardest version, but the rain, thunder, lightning, hail and heat gave any one of them a run for their money.

Show time

Not having raced in many years, I’d forgotten that such an event can create a buzz that envelopes the atmosphere and makes its own weather. There was a nervous energy in town the night before stage one in Nauders, Austria, and even in civilian clothing, any racer was easily identifiable, floating as if they were an inch off the ground. The giant, inflatable Maxxis arch that formed the start line served as the backdrop to our dinner al fresco on the plaza of an old Austrian mountain town and added to the giddiness of the scene. Three sips into my Aperol spritz and the digital clock embedded into the arch blinked to life and started the countdown. 13:45:23 til race time. *Gulp*

The TransAlp can be done solo, but is most often done in teams of two. My partner was a long-time friend, legendary for her climbing ability. I’m legendary for my ability to give up and walk. She inquired early on if we needed to stick together.

“Heck no. You do you and I’ll be along sometime after that. Though maybe I can make up time on the downhills.”

“Yeah, you’re faster than me on the downhills.” Hmph. She regularly finished 30-90 minutes ahead of me, and those are just the times when I forced her to tell me how long she’d been waiting. As a team event, placement is dependent on the slowest team-member’s time. Sorry, Anne (okay, to be fair to me, I never ended any day DFL. But it was close).

As with any race, but a multi-day stage race in particular, one naturally falls in with their own, other racers in their speed, fitness and ability category. You form a crew, a posse, even if you can’t understand anything aside from “Guttenmorgen.” One of these for me was a man with one leg. You know the old refrain about “Getting beat by a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest”? Yup.  

A mid-thigh amputee with a prosthetic leg was a staple in my posse. Every morning I’d pass him, he’d pass me, leapfrog infinity. I really wanted to talk to this man. 

“Good morning!  One heck of a climb, eh?” 

“…?…   Deutsche??” 

“Oh jeez, no…damn…”

“Mmmm.”

My mother was chagrined that her family never taught her German though it was their native tongue. Now it was generational. I’d offer a few cheerful things in English, he in German, and we’d have to leave it at that. 

It was hard enough to fathom the riding itself, but as noted above, there was an inordinate amount of hike-a-bike. One particularly heinous segment that everyone walked, including the pros, featured slick mud, wet roots, step-ups, and swear-laden slogging. While deep in my own pissy/moan-y cavern of doom, here’s the one-legged guy making his way, slow and steady up the trail. Guess I’ll shut up now. 

But this is a lot of kavetch. Kavetch about being slow, kavetch about it being hard, kavetch about the self-doubt and recrimination that can move into the mind on hour five, day three, too many kilometers to go. The beauty of the Alps is inimitable. “Can’t copy the Alps” was a tagline of the race. Mountain passes with new and captivating wildflowers were little waving temptresses, beckoning me to stop and ogle, admire, sit a spell. I didn’t give in, but it was not easy. 

Babbling brooks attended by soft, emerald moss had me trotting off into la-la land, thinking I’d just seen a unicorn sipping from the stream. The crunch of tires from behind booted me back into reality, and spooked the unicorn, but she farted a rainbow in her retreat so that was neat. The hum and glow of the forest remained, and for a few magical moments my legs, heart and lungs (and butt) were quiet.

Back for more

Many fellow racers I fell in with had unfinished business with Bike TransAlp. Rikki from Denmark had come in 2000 on a bike too big and surrendered to knee pain. Ronan from Ireland was here 12 years earlier and suffered a dislocated shoulder. Steve from California broke his body but not his bike, so offered it to a stranger whose same size Trek SuperCaliber was broken. 

“He barely adjusted my seat, added his own bike tool, clipped right in and calmly looked at me and said the following in his Turkish accent (and humbly), “thanks Steve….don’t worry…I’ll smoke em.” I was bewildered by the comment. The race was already 20 minutes old. 

Unbeknownst to Steve, that guy was Husayn Celebi who went on to not only catch the pack, but then won the stage and later gave Steve his winner’s jersey.

Shelter from the storm

That many of these roads and passes were key locations in World War II was brought into stark relief on Platmort pass between Austria and Italy where we shimmied around a menacing array of cone-shaped iron spikes set in concrete. Placed in 1938 to deter tanks and other heavy equipment from crossing, they were a strange and haunting juxtaposition amongst blue skies, alpine lakes, and that guy on the $11,000 S-Works who just passed me like a jet fighter passing a transport plane. 

Every stage was hard, but looming large over them all was Stage 4—the Queen’s Stage. 62 miles and 10,718’ of climbing. After three days of racing. We awoke that morning in Bormio to wind, thunder, lightning and hail. We rode into town, found the start, got into our starting pens. The music started, announcements regarding the day, occasional mentions of how many minutes til liftoff. Distant thunder became less so, lightning now occurring in tandem with its audio partner. Then came the downpour.

En masse, people abandoned their bikes where they stood, laying them down in the start paddocks and seeking shelter. A few of the herd’s smarter specimens had nabbed overhangs early, but these became quickly overrun. Hundreds of humans in too little clothing scattered for cover beneath the big tree, the store awning, the neighbor’s stoop. Hundreds of thousands of dollars in bicycles lay abandoned in the street, getting a thorough-if-unwanted cleaning. 

The start line was around the street corner and therefore blocked from view. But something strange was happening. People were leaving. With their bikes. Slowly at first, then in larger waves reaching back toward us. 

“Why haven’t they made an announcement about what’s happening?” I asked a fellow drowned rat.

“The P.A. system got zapped! And the Maxxis inflatable arch collapsed…the stage is canceled.”

Reader, let me tell you that never in the history of the world has any person EVER been more filled with joy at the cancellation of something she paid good money for. I almost cried. They herded everyone to the TransAlp camp, that gymnasium or recreation center in every stage town that was home to hundreds of racers every night. As luck would have it, this camp had an adjacent café where a crush of nearly hypothermic, lycra-clad, racers donning gold-foil emergency blankets made the place look like a weird disco where everyone showered in their clothes and brought the exceedingly wrong shoes. 

Race organization was a strong suit in 2016, and was doubly impressive in the clutch. In under two hours, 550 racers and their bikes and their day bags were on the move via buses to the next stage town. Upon arrival in Malé, the post-race meal awaited us. We tried to make a dent in our calorie deficit, then took a nap. A nap!

Back down to earth

Arriving on the last day in Riva del Garda, head swimming from conflicting emotions—relief, happiness, and a generous helping of heat bonk—I hugged my race partner and hiccupped a confused laugh/sob.

We took our photo in front of the TransAlp 25^th Anniversary backdrop (that some of our friends on social media mistook for the podium—ouch!) and when I caught the eye of the one-legged man, our faces mirrored the same heartfelt smile. Despite never having said anything aside from ‘Good Morning’ to each other for a week, we shared a ridiculously joyful, and uplifting bear-hug. He said things to me in German. I laughed. I said things to him in English. He laughed. It was delightfully absurd.

When the bicycle sweeps rolled into the finish line all together, a horn, a cheer, and a solid blast of confetti erupted. Five minutes later the same was repeated when the moto-medics passed under the fully inflated yellow Maxxis archway, marking the official end of the race. And there it was again, that bike race buzz. Seven days, 246 miles and 47,000 feet of climbing may have lowered the amount by which these racers floated off the ground, but not by much. 

Gear and stats recap

Many thanks to Specialized for the opportunity to train on, race and review the 2023 Epic EVO. It was amazing. Read my review here. Also a solid holla to Velocio Cycling Apparel for outfitting both of us with shorts, jerseys, vests, jackets, socks and arm warmers despite being warned on no uncertain terms that we’d be nowhere near the podium. You’re the best.

Stats Sidebar: 

• Stage 1: Nauders to Reschensee. 32 miles, 7,247’
• Stage 2: Reschensee to Livigno. 61 miles, 10,104’
• Stage 3: Livigno to Bormio. 40 miles, 7,280’
• Stage 4: Bormio to Malé CANCELED (62 miles and 10,718’)
• Stage 5: Malé to Valle Del Chiese. 44 miles, 8,277’
• Stage 6: Valle Del Chiese to Valle di Ledro. 40 miles, 8,270’
• Stage 7: Valle di Ledro to Riva del Garda. 30 miles, 5,603’

The article Tales From the Tail of a Race: TransAlp 2023 appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

Most of us rarely go anywhere without a smartphone, and that includes mountain bike rides. Still, most of us set boundaries about how we use them on the trail, especially when it comes to text messages and phone calls. Many group rides even have informal rules about when or if it’s ever ok to answer a call.

Has answering a call — or not answering one — ever gotten you into trouble on a ride? Tell us about it in the comments!

The article What is Your Text/Phone Call Policy During a Ride? appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

The next time you pull into a trailhead, take a look at which autos are taking up space between the white lines. Chances are high that you’ll see a greater diversity in the makes of bikes people are riding than the cars they’re driving.

Mountain bikers often gravitate toward a few choice brands when it comes to vehicles, for whatever reason it may be, whether it’s the utility, fuel efficiency, or reliability. Are you someone who drives one of the most common vehicles for mountain bikers? Take the survey and tell us why you chose to buy your car in the comments below.

The article What Make of Vehicle do you Drive to the Trailhead? appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

You tell me if your Sunday morning looks somewhat similar to mine. I’m up early(ish) and heading downstairs to perform the ever-so-important ritual of coffee making. Once my coffee is finished, I sit on the couch, sip the strong beverage and catch up on the YouTube videos I’ve missed that week.

As you can imagine, the videos I watch are usually mountain bike related.

One YouTube channel kept popping up over and over again—@JaredHoff. This YouTube channel, run by its creator Jared Hoffman, became one of my regular Sunday morning shows. I found Hoffman’s content to be applicable to an intermediate-advanced rider like me.

The more videos I watched, the more I realized Hoffman may not live too far away from me. Indeed, he didn’t. After what could potentially be characterized as internet stalking, I found he was just over two hours south, and very near a trail system I’d been wanting to ride. 

With making a connection in the industry and riding new trails as my excuse, I reached out to Hoffman to see if he had some free time to hit the trails. A window in our calendars opened and I headed south. I found a much bigger story than just mountain biking and YouTube.

From skateboards to Apache Helicopters

Hoffman and I met at Spence Mountain Trailhead where I tried to keep up for a few hours. Summer heat, and dust, have fully made their presence known in Oregon, so after a few laps we grabbed lunch. We chatted and shared stories over a couple of beers. I have to admit, Hoffman’s stories are much better than mine.

Hoffman grew up in the Bay Area as a skater kid. He went to school for graphic design, hoping to land a job in the skateboard industry. Hoffman’s future looked promising until the economic crash of 2008 made graphic design jobs scarce.

With that door seeming to close, and now with a family to support, Hoffman enlisted in the Army in 2009. His initial contract was a 3-year commitment as an aircraft refueler. Hoffman figured he would serve the three years and return to a changed economy where he could pursue his dream of graphic design in the skateboard industry.

Military life suited Hoffman well and he found that it was an area he thrived in. The aviation unit Hoffman was assigned flew Apache helicopters. Once Hoffman saw one, he immediately reconsidered what he thought would be a short stint in the military. But it seemed like the road from refueler to pilot could potentially be out of reach.

“I went to refuel my first Apache and went back to talk to my sergeant, and told him that I was going to fly Apache helicopters one day,” Hoffman explained. “The guy started laughing at me.” Apparently, enlisted refuelers don’t often become pilots, but the mockery was what Hoffman needed to prove people wrong. 

Fortunately, Hoffman already possessed a Bachelor’s degree, thanks to his graphic design pursuit. With this, Hoffman could begin the process of transitioning from an enlisted man to an officer. Hoffman got his paperwork in order and entered officer candidate school. 

Hoffman continued hurdling all the barriers that made becoming an Apache pilot difficult. Enlisted men don’t fly helicopters, West Point grads do. But Hoffman, now Lieutenant Hoffman at the time, came out of officer candidate school on track for aviation. Hoffman graduated at the top of his class, allowing him to pick what he wanted to fly, so to speak. Hoffman’s choice? The Apache.

“If you’re not familiar with the Apache helicopter, it’s got missiles, rockets, a big giant gun. When the pilot puts his helmet on, the gun moves with his head. When he moves his head, the gun moves up, down, left, right. It’s a tank killer.”

Two more deployments awaited Hoffman but he now flew Apaches instead of refueling them. He made it to the rank of captain in the Army as an aviation officer and Apache helicopter pilot.

From Apaches to mountain bikes

Apaches are attack helicopters. They are found at the front lines of battle, supporting troops in the most dangerous of areas. Flying for nearly a decade, Hoffman saw his fair share of battle. Like many, returning from the Middle East brought baggage, including post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

After three tours in Afghanistan, Hoffman felt it was time to transition out of the Army and focus on his family. He landed in the Air National Guard at a base in Southern Oregon. Hoffman was able to be home but he had to leave flying Apaches behind. 

“Now I’m not flying Apache Helicopters anymore,” he said. “That original drive, resiliency, calm under pressure, and adrenaline fix I had from skateboarding and then got from Apaches, now I had nothing to fill that void. That’s when the PTSD set in a little bit.”

With a new career in the Air National Guard, Hoffman set out to fill that void that Apaches left. Mountain bikes seemed to do the trick. A similar clarity, a release of fear, and a complete focus on the trail translated to flying in Hoffman’s head. 

In being introduced to mountain biking, Hoffman was also introduced to a community. Not only did he find this community at his local bike shop, he also found it on YouTube.

A transition to content creation

Like many of us getting into mountain biking, Hoffman was consuming the typical YouTube channels that grace the mountain biking genre. With his background in graphic design, Hoffman saw the potential to begin making content as well. 

Initially, Hoffman hoped to be in the bike industry, creating content and doing reviews. Views weren’t too hard to come by. Reviewing things like the latest action camera got a lot of clicks. Despite doing such, Hoffman didn’t find this to be a good fit. He continued to see the gap between creator and consumer getting wider.

The problem Hoffman noticed was that the advice, reviews, and general information was often coming from the very best, elite riders. If not currently pros, many riders in the videos are former pros and, frankly, just on a different level than most.

“We need to know what the pros are thinking because they are the ones pushing the limits. If they can do a 20-foot drop and not break their cranks and pedals, surely those will hold up on my 5-foot drops,” Hoffman joked.

We often depend on the opinions of these riders to help us decide on our next upgrades.

“But what does the average guy like me think about Maxxis tires? Do I really need to spend $110 each on a set of tires? Is the average rider going to notice the difference?”.

Hoffman had found his niche and began to create videos geared in that direction.

“I wanted to make videos for guys like me,” he said. “He has a wife, has kids, has a job, he’s working his butt off for that paycheck. Now he finally has his weekend to go ride his mountain bike and just really wants to know if he’ll actually notice the difference between carbon and alloy wheels, carbon and alloy bars.” 

That is precisely what Hoffman is doing. And the numbers are showing. Hoffman has been a weekend content creator of sorts for only two years but has gained 6,000 subscribers and over 2 million views. 

Hoffman has also connected with Brian Kennedy, better known on YouTube as BKXC, and the guys at Worldwide Cyclery. He is supported by Trail One Components and KETL Mountain Apparel through Worldwide Cyclery. This support has allowed Hoffman to receive discounted or demo products to review.

Hoffman is continuing to serve his country as a squadron commander and a major in the Air National Guard. Though he doesn’t fly in Afghanistan any longer, you can find Hoffman flying down Speedking or Nighthawk at Spence Mountain, his Apache having been traded for a Trek Fuel EX.

The article From an Attack Helicopter Pilot to a Mountain Bike YouTuber appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

When it comes to races like the Leadville 100, the fastest riders are usually vying for the earliest start waves. Being around people who can match your pace means less time maneuvering around others if and when you need to pass, ultimately having an impact on your finish time.

For Leadville, Colorado local Ty Hall, 58, who’s started dead last at the race since 2015, that’s the point. In 2022 Hall finished 115th after passing 1,485 people on course. For each person Hall passed, $42 was donated from the LT100 Legacy Foundation, ultimately raising $63,000 for the community of Leadville. Hall’s efforts have raised almost $400,000 for the town and tomorrow he’s back at it again. Each year the money is donated to Lake County High School students who want to pursue college or is injected into the town through other ways.

Leadville roots

Aside from a brief stint at Western State College in Gunnison, Hall has called Leadville home since 1988. Growing up in a small town near the Shenandoah Valley in Virginia, he moved to Leadville for the small community feel he grew up with, just at a much higher elevation. He worked at Ski Cooper, a small ski resort in the winter and at a golf course in the summer as a handyman.

Hall met his wife who was born and raised in Leadville, and though at the time they didn’t know exactly what they wanted to do, they knew they wanted to stay.

“Leadville is either one of those places where you like it or you don’t,” he said. The winters are long, the air is thin, and the local industry work in ranching and mining is tough. The environment, atmosphere, and history has created a resilient community.

When he moved to Leadville, he remembers it was very much a depressed town, with boarded up windows and suffering from the county’s largest employer, the Climax Mine, shutting down in 1982. Leadville’s population quickly declined, businesses shut down and the town claimed the nation’s highest unemployment rate.

In 1983, local miner Ken Chlouber, along with Merilee Maupin, founded the Leadville Trail 100 Run with the intent to bring people to traverse and compete over the jagged peaks. With that distance, they’d have to buy a hotel room and spend some money in town during their stay. The bike race started 11 years later. Hall didn’t know what to think of the 100-mile race then, but in 1994 he signed up.

“Twenty something years later here we are,” he said. “After every year I swore I’d never do it again, but it just hasn’t worked out.”

Hall’s partner Roxy pursued a job as a school teacher early on, but the two also started a business together, the Tennessee Pass Nordic Center, Cookhouse, and Sleep Yurts. After 26 years, the yurts operate year-round and they employ over 30 people.

The start of the Dream Chaser

The Leadville Trail 100 Legacy Foundation started in 2002 as a 501c3 nonprofit, donating to community entities like the fire department and search and rescue and helping the community with dental and vision care. The Foundation started donating $1,000 to each high school graduate that wanted to pursue some form of higher education. Today, each student gets $2,000.

In 2015, race director at the time Josh Colley reached out to Hall and asked him if he was into a wild idea: if after racing the Leadville 100 for years and finishing with sub-eight-hour times, he’d start at the back of the race and try to pass people–for a good cause. For the first year, the Foundation partnered with TransAmerica, which donated $5 per person that the Dream Chaser passed.

“The timing was great, because I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to do with the Leadville 100 anymore,” said Hall, who’d competed more than 20 years by then and was achieving commendable finish times. “It was perfect for me, because [it was] a new approach to it and a new angle. And this really helps keep me motivated for riding and racing.”

In 2015 and 2016, Hall passed over 1,400 racers, raising over $7,000 for the Foundation through TransAmerica, and the corporation later backed out, opening donations to the public.

“Honestly, it was the best move for us, because now we can raise so much more money,” Kelsey Wood, the marketing and communications manager for the Foundation said. In 2019 and 2021 they raised over $100,000.

The Foundation is presented to participants and those attending the athlete’s meeting. Though corporations can donate, it’s mostly individuals and athletes contributing, with the average pledge at around 10 cents per person, according to Wood.

“It’s a nice way for people to get involved and feel like they’re doing something bigger than riding a bike,” said Hall.

Passing the masses

Hall wears his yellow Dream Chaser kit on race day and builds up a swift pace, passing as many people as he can on the first half of the course. He’s careful when and where he passes. He doesn’t want to ruin anyone else’s race or his own. Hall recalls riding closely off the trail one year when he snagged a branch and went sailing along with all of his food.

“It can be a challenge starting dead last, but it’s also something you have to be super mindful of and pick and choose your battles.”

He usually lines up at a few big mountain bike races every year. Training is a regular part of Hall’s routine, but he practices intervals closer to the race, since windows for passing can be sporadic and he needs all the juice he can get.

“I kind of blow myself up in the beginning and then I try to get myself back after climbing Columbine,” he said, halfway through the course.

With the Dream Chaser brief at the athlete’s meeting and the bright yellow kit, other racers are supportive, Hall said, and they’re usually cheering him on or even letting him draft

Community impact

As of today, Hall has raised nearly $400,000 for the Leadville community as the Dream Chaser. Aside from high school grads, the Foundation has awarded grants to community wheel programs, St. Vincent’s Hospital, the National Mining Hall of Fame, and even local trail builders the Cloud City Wheelers. Hall said the Foundation recently bought the organization a mini-excavator to help build local trails that he’s using to train on.

The Climax mine is operating again, though at a fraction of its force before the shutdown in the 1980s. Still, Leadville faces new challenges similar to other Colorado mountain towns like a rising cost of living and an influx of second home buyers and short term rentals, which it quickly cracked down on.

Considering his goals for 2023, Hall wants to stay safe during the race and finish every year, “but when it comes down to the numbers, I always love if we can get close to, or over, $100,000 of donations,” he said. “We’ve done that in the past, where we’ve had that in a year and it’s incredible. And on a personal level, if I could beat eight hours, I would be so excited.”

Woods, the communications manager for the Foundation said Hall would never talk about it himself, but the potential lot of money on the line puts pressure on him each year and his work can’t be valued.

“We are always super grateful for his efforts,” she said. “If you think about it, there’s a lot riding on this day for Ty and the Foundation and he carries a really big weight all day and the weeks leading up to it. He just wears it so well, but it’s a lot of pressure.”

Readers can support Ty’s efforts by donating here.

The article Meet the Man Trying to Pass Everyone on the Leadville 100 Course to Benefit the Community appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

For many of us, this summer has been a hot one, so we want to know how you’re staying cool on the trail. Because no matter how hot it goes, we are NOT riding a bike trainer in an air conditioned room.

The article How do You Stay Comfortable on Hot MTB Rides? appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

A 29-year-old New Mexico man has been arrested as part of an investigation by New Mexico State Police in the death of mountain biker Stephen Timmons, according to KRQE News.

Police responded to a call to check in on a missing person on June 26, 2023 who had not returned home after a ride. Officers found Timmons’ vehicle at the Dragon Fly trailhead near Silver City, New Mexico. Search and rescue teams were deployed in the area and found the victim dead with gunshot wounds.

On July 7, the New Mexico Department of Public Safety (DPS) matched shell casings and projectiles at the murder scene with a firearm Joseph William Costello had in possession at the time of a previous arrest, according to KRQE.

Timmons was a minister for a Western New Mexico University program. An obituary says Timmons was a devoted Christian who “loved and respected everyone regardless of who they were or where they came from.” He is survived by his wife, parents, sister, two sons, a daughter, and two grandchildren.

Costello has a reported history of confronting, “chasing, and threatening people,” at public locations such as campgrounds and public trails. There were also reports in the past year of a person matching Costello’s description threatening trail users and possibly firing gunshots at them. He had an active warrant from another county for trespassing when he was arrested after being stopped by a U.S. Forest Service officer for a traffic violation on a motorized bike on June 30.

Costello published hundreds of videos on YouTube where he displayed unusual behavior and signs of paranoia and delusion, according to the Albuquerque Journal. Costello told followers how he believed he was being stalked and spied on by different individuals.

The Journal also reports that Costello used a police officer’s taser against the officer and a partner while he was under arrest in 2018, but the case was dismissed for “unknown reasons.” Three years later, Costello was also suspected of pointing a crossbow at a family floating in the Rio Grande river, but the case was dismissed too because Costello was deemed “not competent to stand trial.”

A KVIA article from 2022 details Costello’s disturbing behavior in Doña Ana County, New Mexico and that he had been chasing and threatening community members for months while he camped near a river.

Sources told KVIA that Costello would run out of the bushes screaming at locals, including kids and elderly persons and had shot at them with a crossbow. Results with law enforcement were uneventful. Costello was arrested multiple times but always released from jail.

“We can only do so much,” Sheriff Kim Stewart told KVIA, calling it a “revolving door situation.”

Costello is currently being held at the Grant County Detention Center while State Police investigate the case. He has been charged with murder.

The article Suspect Arrested in New Mexico Mountain Biker’s Murder on Trail appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

My wife and I bought our first house together a month before the pandemic and the subsequent housing boom. “We’ve never made a luckier financial decision,” I tell people when they ask about our house.

We looked at houses along the Denver metro area for a few months before we made an offer. All of them were along the west side, closer to the trail networks we wanted to spend time at. I’d lived far across town when I started mountain biking and knew the pain of swimming with the crowded stream to make post-work rides in rush hour traffic. I wanted the ease of being on-trail as quickly as possible, but it came with a cost. The areas closest to the mountains were filled with people of the same mindset and building opportunities are constrained–due to the mountains and all.

We were fortunate to close on the house at an ideal time, thanks in large part to a VA home loan. It wasn’t a dream house for either of us, but a first house doesn’t need to be a big house, we told ourselves at the time. Give it a few years, and we’ll find a better place.

Little did any of us know that the housing market would explode in just a few months, but years later, we’re seeing the ramifications. It’s incredibly competitive to buy a house almost anywhere, even if things have cooled off a bit. Of course, the markets get less competitive if you’re willing to go somewhere else. Somewhere less crowded, somewhere with a cooler job market, somewhere…flatter.

A few months ago during the spring, when Colorado was still battling cold and snow, we visited some friends in North Texas. We’d owed them a visit for some time and Amarillo was only a seven hour drive from home; barely longer than a trip to Moab, which we’d been to several times, and there happened to some decent mountain biking nearby in Palo Duro Canyon.

We showed up on a Friday afternoon with our bikes strapped to the back of the truck, excited to see our friends and ride in a new area. But first, the home tour.

Their house sits in the oldest neighborhood in the town. Cobblestone streets divide the hundred year old houses. Lexus’s and King Ranch F-150s sit in long driveways with detached garages. Old trees blossomed over brick and stone houses keeping them cool under the Texas sun.

We walked through their home office and foyer and listened to the hardwood groan underneath our feet as we went from one room to the next, twisting the antique door knobs, reviewing the bedrooms, living room, loft, and dining room. It wasn’t until the custom kitchen, with walnut cabinetry and modern, but retro-fitted appliances, where we started to feel pangs of envy.

“This house is beautiful,” we told them, knowing we’d never be able to afford something comparable in Colorado. Later in the weekend, we learned they purchased their house for about 25% less than what we paid for ours, despite the Texas home being three times the size and at least five times as cool.

“See, we can have our dream house,” I said. “Just maybe not in our dream location.”

On the drive home, we thought about what our place is worth to us. Is sacrificing the amount of recreation possibilities–hiking, mountain biking, camping, and the vast amount of wild public lands close by–worth what we’d gain in a house? Neither of us needed to speak to answer the question. We knew where we wanted to spend most of our time and it wasn’t within a set of walls. And countless other people are making this choice too, whether it’s in an even costlier locale or sacrificing a house altogether to travel in a van.

While we had a great time mountain biking Palo Duro Canyon, it was one of the few opportunities to mountain bike or hike for hundreds of miles. There are a lot of great things about Texas, but access to public lands isn’t one of them.

Finding a good place to settle down is never as easy as asking “where do we want to live?” either. The answer is tied up in family and work obligations, and financial means and it changes for people at different stages in life.

But occasionally it gets clearer when you identify what’s most important to you. The other week as I sat my yoga mat one Monday evening with a handful of others, the instructor casually asked, “Who went into the mountains this weekend?” A few of us raised our hands, myself included. “It’s one of the few reasons I convince myself to stay in this expensive state,” he said.

Yep, I thought to myself. Our house may not be that big, but it’s all we need, and the backyard is incredible.

The article Being Trail Rich is Worth Being House Poor appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

Over the years, we’ve drawn inspiration from California. Our imagination of the wild West Coast and its intersection with the Ripton ethos was obvious. We flew to San Diego hoping to witness a glimmer of that mythical version of this place. We thought that our persistence could unearth the California we wanted to experience in the flesh. Hop into our ’86 Honda, a.k.a. “Sweet Love” as we road trip up the coast, riding with cool people and experiencing the wild, unknown, and unrefined side of California.

• Riders: Hadrian Lackner, Enzo Sapojinack, Zander Hoppen, Sam Dale, Diana Drew.
• Film and Photo: Satchel Cronk and Kody Kohlman
• Editor: Nate Steinbauer
• Sound and Color: Wiley Kaupas

The article Denim and California Shreddin’ in Coastal Cruisin’ [Video] appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

I am still coming off the rush of a weekend at Elevate, a women’s mountain bike summit at Kingdom Trails, New England’s beloved trail network in northern Vermont. Elevate was a joint effort by New England Mountain Bike Association (NEMBA), Vermont Mountain Bike Association (VMBA) and the Kingdom Trails Association (KTA). The event offered 100 female and gender expansive attendees two days of group rides and clinics, socializing and networking, and shredding some of the best singletrack on the East Coast. Women of all ages and abilities came from nine states and Canada to talk about bikes, practice cornering or picking a line, groan on climbs, hoot on descents, and clink beer glasses at Mike’s Tiki Bar. We rode, we communed, and we learned… perhaps more than we had expected.

The Burke Mountain Hotel conference room was quiet as a forest glade as our keynote speaker’s voice trembled a little telling her story. Brooke Goudy is a Black, female, totally badass mountain biker and cycling advocate from Denver. She is breaking stereotypes, seeking adventure and speaking inspirationally around the world. In her speech and interactions with attendees all weekend, Goudy offered a message that expressed perfectly why we were at Elevate: to build a strong, diverse mountain bike community.

“If I learn to ride bikes, he’ll love me as much as he loves that bike!” Goudy confessed, laughing. We cackled along with her as she described getting into mountain biking while dating a pro racer. “I LOVE to ride bikes. But I didn’t see many women and definitely not many Black women,” she said. “So, what do I do? I want to share this incredible thing with my people. I want to build a community that I want to see. It wasn’t easy as I thought it would be.”

Her story was one that we, as women in mountain biking, all recognized. Goudy described the challenge of often being the only one, the “other,” and relying on her strength and courage to represent and motivate change.

“I want to show that someone like me—a woman, a woman of color, a little bit ‘thicker’ woman—can go out and have extraordinary adventures and be successful. I put myself out there to let people know that bikes were built for everyone. We just have to be brave. All the things we do off of the trail—a lot of hard shit! the resilience and courage of being a mom, a partner, a working professional—it makes climbing a hill easy.”

As Goudy talked about the benefits of a diverse community, she asked us to look around—a sea of white faces—and notice who was not in the room. She reminded us how it felt to be the only one, the courage it took just to be present, and what it felt like to be welcomed. Her message resonated deeply with us, a group of women sharing our passion for what is still a very pale, very bro sport. 

Kenzie Fuqua is DEI Coordinator for the almost 10,000-member VMBA. “We have a DEI committee that drives a boatload of initiatives, not only having to do with women, but all user groups,” she said. “We’re putting a lot of time, energy, and money into changing the landscape of what mountain biking looks like in our region and hope to see this catch on elsewhere.” According to Fuqua, about 25% of VMBA members identify as cisgender females. “This has grown a lot in the last five years, but we want to get it to 50/50.”

“I met more courageous riders then I could have dreamed of,” said Mary McCarthy of her experience at Elevate. McCarthy started riding seven years ago at age 42 on a $400 Craigslist hardtail. Today, she is Chapter President of Greater Boston NEMBA. Her takeaway from Goudy was that it takes more than just an invitation to nurture diversity. 

“There’s welcoming and there’s belonging,” says McCarthy. “You need to pat the chair beside you and say, ‘You belong here. I’ve saved a seat for you.’” This feeling of inclusion was a gift McCarthy received on her very first NEMBA ride. “I was told I was an exceptional rider. I had exceptional skill and a unique gift for this sport.” She laughs. “I believed them! Now that I have led beginner rides for eight years and heard ride leaders welcome people in the exact same way, I understand that sense of belonging can ignite someone’s confidence, hope, and trust to try very difficult physical, emotional and mental things.”

Many women who love mountain biking enjoy co-ed rides and have learned a lot from male mentors. “I’m lucky to belong to a chapter of enlightened humans, where I don’t feel genderized or mansplained,” says McCarthy. “But I know this is not the experience of all people introduced to mountain biking. I have witnessed something very special happen when folks are able to relax and feel safe enough to take risks.” For the attendees, Elevate was our safe space to belong, to enjoy and learn more about mountain biking, to take risks while not feeling intimidated or uncomfortable, and even allow ourselves to step up and be leaders in situations where we would normally defer to men.

Nicole Freedman, Executive Director of 10,000-member NEMBA and former Olympic cyclist, was impressed by the impact Elevate had on attendees. “For many it was a powerful experience to connect with like-minded people. Women and gender expansive mountain bikers are still a significant minority in the sport, so carving out a weekend just for them was incredibly special.”

In Freedman’s nearly 30 years in cycling, she is struck by the many women who feel discouraged by early experiences.

“It’s typical to find themselves on a group ride that is too fast, mostly men, and they struggle to keep up. It can lead to long-lasting negative feelings, a sense of not belonging and of not being a real mountain biker.” She adds that when we introduce children to the sport, we carefully find the right group and level to ensure an encouraging start.

“Elevate was a chance for attendees to reset and know that they are mountain bikers. They got to own the sport for the weekend.” Freedman hopes many return to their communities and duplicate the experience by leading rides for women and gender expansive cyclists, so more people have a positive introduction to mountain biking.

The article Women Mountain Bikers Climb Higher at Kingdom Trails Elevate Festival appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

We (OK, me, Jeff) can’t get enough of these freeride edits, and Fabio Wibmer is one of our (my) favorite riders. In his latest edit, Wibmer takes to the streets of Valparaiso, Chile to find some creative jumps and lines to shred.

Video link.

The article Urban Freeride in Chile with Fabio Wibmer [Video] appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

Okay, let’s get this out of the way. NRML MTBer, aka Sebastian Bauer, at 6’4″ tall and 345lbs is a big dude. If you’re familiar with his videos and reels on multiple social media platforms, you’ll know what I’m talking about.

Like many other YouTubers and social media wizards with hundreds of thousands of followers, you would probably assume that Bauer has been at this for years. But, I was surprised to find out that his jump from “normal work” to NRML MTBer only happened in the last couple of years.

I sat down with Bauer, with only screens and a few hundred miles between us, and chatted about life before YouTube, his breaking onto the scene as a content creator, his merge with the mountain bike industry, and much more.

And, of course, we shared many laughs as we chatted.

Just a NRML Kid

Bauer, 27, was born and raised in Marin County, California. This mountain biking homeland was where Bauer found himself for the majority of his life, despite work taking him elsewhere from time to time. And by “work” I do not mean social media or content creation. Like you and me, Bauer had a “regular” job in construction—solar panels to be more specific—before he found his place on the world wide web.

Like many of us, Bauer told me he found his bicycle beginnings “on some old clapped-out bikes our parents had laying around.” This led to the discovery of BMX bikes and cheap plastic ramps around the neighborhood. Skateparks came next.

The transition to mountain bikes happened at Mecca—Whistler Bike Park that is. When Bauer was 12 or 13, his family planned an extended camping trip north from their California home, with Whistler just happening to be a stop. Completely unconnected to bikes, Bauer and his family were walking around the Whistler Village, doing typical touristy things. That’s when he saw it.

“You come around the corner and you see the resort and all the jumps were there, all the riders were there, the lifts were going. My mind exploded,” Bauer explained. “We didn’t know it existed, we didn’t know mountain biking was a thing!” Bauer and his brother begged their parents to rent bikes and take a class offered at the resort. From then on the pair were hooked. 

Making the Move to Social Media

COVID was a weird time for us all, with change being the one, perhaps, consistent experience for many. Bauer continued to travel and work building solar fields but was ready for a change. Along with his brother, Ders, Bauer started dabbling once again in video production. 

“A buddy and I used to have a little videography business back in the day. We’d travel around, filming mostly enduro race series.”

Wanting to stay busy during long stents at home, Bauer and his brother set out to local trails to take pictures and create quick riding edits. The genesis of the project found Bauer behind the camera, not in front of it. 

“Originally, it was just my brother we were taking photos of because he’s a lot more photogenic than I was. He’s much more of the average-looking rider, not a giant hunk of meat.”

Six or seven months of creating content went by before the giant hunk of meat jumped in front of the camera. Bauer described the clip as a “crappy” shot of him hitting a drop and then heading down into a berm. The reel was set to slow motion with a heavy song in the background. Fifty thousand people viewed it on the day it was posted.

“That video did so well and we realized that maybe there was something to this,” Bauer told us, referring to the fact that having a “big dude,” such as himself, as the subject of the content seemed to pull in more views. Even though the riding he was doing was “nothing special, just me going out on a trail,” Bauer saw the gap in social media coverage—nobody who looked like he did was putting out content.

And, thus NRML MTBer came to be. The name came from the fact that Bauer and his brother weren’t professionals, but just normal riders. After Bauer jumped in front of the camera, and became NRML MTBer, he recognized that more meaning, maybe mostly a pun, was brought to the name.

The Social Media Business

First, I think it is important to point out that Bauer and NRML MTBer team, consisting of his brother, Ders Bauer, along with another member, Matthew Erbentraut, have built a massive social media following. NRML MTBer has hundreds of thousands of followers across multiple social media platforms, with millions upon millions of views. This was all built in just a couple of years. Their first YouTube video was posted two years ago and the NRML_MTBER Instagram profile’s first post is from October of 2020. The NRML MTBer platform seems to know what they’re doing.

It didn’t start like that though. “It was all experimentation,” he said. “I don’t have a background in marketing or anything, it was all just learned. We were kind of shooting blanks in the dark,” Bauer explained. Similarly to recognizing that Bauer needed to be in front of the camera, not behind it, patterns emerged, ideas clicked, and there seemed to be some sort of path forward.

One of the first ideas that clicked was to evoke laughter. They realized this after filming a clip of Bauer riding his bike with all the air out of the suspension, full travel obviously being reached. This would be NRML MTBer’s first viral video and a push to land in the comedy arm of the mountain biking niche.

“That was the moment we realized that was the audience, that was what people wanted to see.” After that, Bauer and team set out to bring a more comedic approach to mountain biking content. This content was not only applicable to mountain bikers but also reached a general audience distant from the mountain bike world. This was intentional, an opportunity to bridge the gap between mountain bikers and those who aren’t familiar with the sport, but may want to be.

Ideas, Ideas…

So what videos do the best? Bauer talked somewhat of a mixed bag when it came to “viral” videos—the “Tiktok trends,” he referred to them as. “I don’t like doing that stuff, I like sticking to the more original content.”

“It seems that the ones we put the least amount of effort into end up doing the best,” Bauer explained to me. He described the video that has done the best on NRML MTBer’s Instagram. You’ve probably seen it, even if you’ve never heard of NRML MTBer. The clip is simply Bauer riding his bike to a coffee shop and climbing off to go inside. As he dismounts, he carefully, and perfectly extends a saddle-less seatpost and continues to walk gingerly into the cafe (if you don’t get the joke from my explanation, you’ll just have to view the clip).

Bauer also felt that this meshing of social media and mountain bikes will lead to more curated content. Racers will make racing content, freeriders will make freeride content, and companies will make, well, product content. 

Mountain biking content, but incredibly hilarious and, well, relatable to anybody. “That one, on my page, got some 30 million views. But, overall, it got something like 500 million views on the internet,” Bauer explained to me. The idea popped into his head and 10 minutes later it was complete. 

But to think that Bauer and the NRML MTBer team are just stabbing in the dark would be an incorrect assumption. “Viral” can always be hit or miss; maybe sometimes just plain lucky. But quality content comes from time and effort with a little more time sprinkled on top.

The majority of the ideas for NRML MTBer content are from everyday life. It’s from Bauer seeing something happen on a ride, in his garage working on his bike, or hanging with friends that creates an idea in his mind. It’s added to his list and sat on until the time seems right.

“What people were watching on the internet at the time of the dropper post video is different from today. Back then the name of the game was short, hook by curiosity at first and finish it off with a big hit to your dopamine and serotonin.” Bauer feels like today’s viewers have evolved from that level of content, looking for more value rather than just a laugh. 

So they evolved as well. “A lot of our really successful videos this year have been a little bit more detailed,” he said. “They’ve had a concept to the video, rather than just the video itself.”

The Content of the Future

While it can be hard to find and create content that aligns with the current viewer trends, it can be even harder to predict them. One thing that Bauer did point out, however, was the further meshing of the mountain bike industry with social media and content creators.

“It seems like every company, every rider, has to have a social presence. Every brand that wants to sponsor you for promotional purposes, social media seems to be the number one thing they are looking for as far as advertising and marketing.” Bauer hinted that ambassadors and sponsored athletes will first be content creators, then mountain bikers.

So, will content trump the actual riding? Has it already? 

“You kind of expect for there to be this hardcore corporate environment, and there very much is that aspect, but in a healthy way.” On one side of the line, you had the business-centered, corporate atmosphere. On the other side, a bunch of mountain bikers talking shop like we all do.

Finding a Place in the Industry

On August 1, 2021, Bauer released a video announcing his partnership with one of the largest bike companies in the world. “I will be representing Specialized Bikes moving forward and I couldn’t be more stoked!” the caption read. 

The bicycle giant isn’t the only company NRML MTBer is working with. Other than Specialized, Bauer, and the team are working with Heatwave glasses and 1Up bike racks. These are the brands they are officially contracted under, although they do work with other brands.

Being ambassadors for Specialized Bikes has “blown my mind,” Bauer said. Connections were made, relationships were built, and the end result was a partnership between NRML MTBer and Specialized. 

Jumping into working with a major bike manufacturer was an interesting line for Bauer to dance. 

Bauer gives Specialized a lot of credit for allowing them to build the platform they have. Specialized backs NRML MTBer as a creative force and doesn’t put limits or requirements on what they produce. 

“They allow us to pick and choose how we make content. They’re down for anything—we’re not limited. We have free range to do what we want,” Bauer told me. 

And they’ve been able to work together. Recently, Bauer and Specialized rider Cody Kelley put together an epic video for the release of the Levo SL. I can neither confirm nor deny that all the hair is natural. 

Bauer told me that, of course, shooting the video with Kelley was an absolute blast. He’s also had the chance to work with Remy Metailler on a video showcasing the differences, and similarities, of the two riders. Most of all, Bauer spoke of the surreal feeling it has been to create content with some of the top riders. “Being able to meet so many of these people that I’ve looked up to for so long has been very cool.”

“Everything I do, I really try to appreciate to the fullest.” We appreciate what you do as well, NRML MTBer. Thanks for the laughs. Thanks for showing us that big dudes can be NRML too.

The article NRML MTBer is Your Completely Average Rider With a Big Following and Big Personality appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

The Moab, Utah Police Department is investing a string of high-end mountain bike thefts that happened in one day. On Monday, June 27 the department posted on Facebook that “In the last 24 hours, up to 6 high-end mountain bikes have been stolen from at least 4 different locations in Moab, to include a couple hotels.”

The department said that the bikes were locked with cable locks which appeared to be cut with bolt cutters. The bikes could have been stolen overnight, they note, and the suspects could be scouting for potential bikes during the day. The stolen bikes were possibly stored outside rather than in a secure hotel room. The department is actively reviewing surveillance footage.

According to KSL-TV, a Utah news station, thieves got away with about $22,000. One was taken from a Grand County campground and another four were taken from within Moab city limits. One bike was worth $6,000.

“They obviously knew what they were looking for because none of these bikes were cheap,” Moab Police Assistant Chief Lex Bell told KSL-TV.

The department told KSL they are working with hotels to discuss preventing stolen bikes. Bell said he recommends using a steel chain and padlock to lock bikes if they need to be stored outside and to keep serial numbers handy. Obviously, storing a bike inside a hotel room if possible is the safest option. Anyone with information is encouraged to contact Moab PD.

The article Moab PD Investigating $22K in Mountain Bike Thefts in One Day appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

Lachlan Morton is a professional cyclist and mountain biker from Australia, currently riding for  UCI WorldTeam EF Education–EasyPost. He’s notched podium finishes at the Leadville 100, rode the Fastest Known Time for Kokopelli’s Trail in 2020,  and set the Everesting cycling world record in 2020. He also completed the Alt Tour in 2021, cycling the entire Tour de France route unsupported, beating the peloton by five days.

In this interview we ask:

• Congrats on your podium finish at Unbound earlier this month. Were you thinking there might be such a close finish from the beginning of the race?
• How did you get into cycling competition initially? Has your motivation for racing changed?
• What did you learn while riding and filming Thereabouts in 2014? 
• We’ve heard that you’re hoping to make a run at the record for circumnavigating the world by bike. Is an attempt still on your radar?
• Have you mapped out a potential route? How long do you think it would take?
• Is it risky to publicize an FKT attempt before you make it?
• It seems like a lot of your adventures are tied to fundraising for various non-profits. Which causes are near and dear to your heart?
• Are you someone who learns by reading books and listening to others, or are you more of an experiential learner? How is EF a good sponsorship fit for you?
• In Thereabouts you mention riding a frankenbike as a kid that didn’t have brakes. What did that teach you about riding? About life?
• Is there a pressure on professional athletes to have a strong social media presence today? How does that compare to 5-10 years ago?
• How can the sport support pro athletes better, and how can athletes better support the sport?
• In the video of your Kokopelli FKT run you look super calm and collected. Is that an accurate reflection of how you were feeling? Do you think you could have done it faster?
• What do you want your legacy to be?

Keep up with Lachlan @lachlanmorton and EF Education-EasyPost @efprocycling

A complete, edited transcript is provided below.

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Transcript

Jeff
Hey everybody, welcome to the Singletracks podcast. My name is Jeff and today my guest is Lachlan Morton. Lachlan is a professional cyclist and mountain biker from Australia currently riding for UCI World Team EF Education-EasyPost. He’s notched podium finishes at the Leadville 100, rode the fastest known time for Kokopelli Trail in 2020, and set the Everesting cycling world record also in 2020. He’s competed in the alt tour in 2021, cycling the entire Tour de France route unsupported, beating the peloton by five days. Thanks for joining me, Lachlan.

Lachlan
No worries man, thanks for having me.

Jeff
Well, first off, congrats on taking third at Unbound.

Lachlan
Oh, thanks, man. Yeah, nice to have a little race at the front there.

Jeff
So you finished the 200 mile race in just over 10 hours, which is obviously a long time on the bike. Were you thinking there might be such a close finish from the beginning of the race?

Lachlan
Yeah that race now, it’s always got a pretty strong start field. And there’s a lot of riders who can who can really compete at the front. And there’s nothing… I mean, it’s long, and it’s pretty rough roads, and that kind of thing. It’s definitely a challenging race. But there’s nothing super obvious to split it up in the last sort of 50km. You know in general if you’ve made that group, you’re going to be in decent shape. And everyone’s at a pretty similar level. So I tried my best to sort of split things up, because I’m not the fastest in the finish. But yeah, it came down to a group of us.

Jeff
Yeah, that’s interesting to me. I mean, I have much more of a mountain bike background, and you’re not used to seeing those close finishes. I mean, you are in road racing, obviously. So is gravel in that way, is it more like road racing? Or is there kind of that mountain bike element that can also kind of split the field up?

Lachlan
It’s definitely in between, I think. You know, the fact that like the race went down to — I think we were just twelve riders after probably 20 miles — that would very, very rarely have happened in a road race unless there was like a big climb or something. And that kind of came down to some mud sections and rough gravel sections. And then obviously, like legs, so yeah, I mean, that’s the fun challenge of, of gravel racing, I think it kind of falls… I think the best gravel courses fall like right in between mountain biking and road racing.

Obviously you get a big spread of courses the same way you do in mountain biking, you know, but for me the races I enjoy the most are the ones that kind of fall right in the middle where there’s still a tactical element. And, you know, if you’re able to ride the technical sections efficiently and smoothly there’s something to be gained there. But then you also still just need like raw horsepower. So it’s a fun format of racing.

And to be honest I think I enjoy racing gravel more than I do riding gravel. I don’t like wake up in the morning… I genuinely have two bikes with me and it’s always pretty hard to choose your gravel bike over a mountain bike, unless you’re in a certain place where you don’t have access to trails for that. But I think gravel racing is really fun. Because the speed is really high. It’s a lot about controlling traction, still positioning, reading the roads, that kind of thing. So it’s definitely like, you race something like, Unbound, it’s 10 hours long. Yeah. But it goes really, really quickly. Because you’re constantly focused on what you’re doing, trying to keep the air in the tires and put out your best result possible. So yeah, it’s good fun. You know, if I’m honest, I think gravel racing is actually growing on me.

Jeff
Yeah, it’s interesting what you say about choosing between the mountain bike and the gravel bike… I mean, looking at your Instagram, you ride your gravel bike, like a mountain bike. You’re always, it looks like, hitting singletrack when you can and just trying to have as much fun as possible with the gravel bike. Do you think the gravel bike is kind of the perfect mix of the two where you can do both? You can go on a long ride, but you can also maybe ride some more fun stuff like singletrack.

Lachlan
Like if I ended up on singletrack on my gravel bike I would almost always prefer to be on my mountain bike. Yeah, it’s usually just because I’ve either found something or have gotten bored with what I was doing. That being said, if you have a very specific type of singletrack where it’s really smooth, and just like fast flowing, like you get with singletrack that like cows make or something, that’s really fun on a gravel bike. It’s a fun challenge, and you can go quite fast on it.

But for me the ultimate bike is a cross country bike for what I do. You know they’re very capable now. So you can ride most of the stuff that I want to ride, and they’re self-sufficient that you can you can really do big loops on them and still cover quite a lot of ground. I think the best kind of use case for me for a gravel bike is if you’re doing like a mixed-terrain ride where you will end up maybe on the road for more than 40% of the ride, then the gravel bike is right because you could still be quite efficient and fast. Or, you know sometimes I’ll do a ride and then meet up with a group or something who are on road bikes, and then it’s nice to be on a gravel bike. I used to have this idea when I first started riding off road, because I just like simplicity, “there’s got to be just like a bike that I can have…”

Jeff
A quiver killer.

Lachlan
Yeah, and I messed around with the smaller wheels, like 650b wheels, mountain bike tires, and then there’s always a compromise with any bike. So now I just realize that I need more bike.

Jeff
But yeah, it sounds like you’re getting it done with just two bikes for the most part. For a lot of people that’s not a lot of bikes.

Lachlan
Yeah. And I mean, I have more bikes, but I basically don’t ride my road bike ever anymore. I just have two sets of wheels for my, my gravel bike. And it’s basically the two extremes. I just have road tires that I think I’ve used like twice this year. And then I have the biggest possible tires I could fit it in it so like a 2.1 on the front, and then like a 47 or something in the back.

And then I I just have a [Cannondale] Scalpel that I ride all the time. I have been messing around a little bit with the hardtail. Just with the Lifetime series that I’m racing. The mountain bike races are all pretty fast and smooth sort of trails. So there is there is an advantage to riding a hardtail. And it’s a fun, new skill to learn. You know, I think it’s a good thing to learn technique on a hardtail. Because you definitely have to work a little more to find speed. But generally, I would say 90% of the time it’s just two bikes and I would be happy with that.

Jeff
You’re known for taking an unconventional approach to bike racing. How’d you first get into cycling competition?

Lachlan
There was a local club where I grew up in Port Macquarie, a road cycling club. It’s not a big town. And for a smaller town in Australia, it was a proportionately big cycling club. It was run by an Olympian, Graham Seers who became my first coach. Anyway, he did a really good job of pulling this club together.

My dad was pretty big into motor racing, so we were gonna race go-karts, but we had family friends who lived just down the road, kids the same age, and their dad was also really into motor racing. And they wanted to split us up because we were pretty competitive kids. And so we’d had like little peewee 50s and motorbikes that we’d almost killed each other on so they didn’t want us to be in the same category. They started go kart racing. But we wanted to do something different. So part of the deal was we could get bikes, then once we got bikes, we wanted to race.

So we went down to the local club. And this was pretty much all my older brother pushing it. And then I was just copying him because he was two years older than me, and the coolest person in the world to me at that time. So I just basically went down to the local club, and then we started racing. On Saturdays, they would have a handicap. On Tuesdays, they would do a criterium. And it just kind of grew out of that.

I didn’t train at all at that point, I was pretty young, I was probably eight or nine years old. Then, when I was, I think 11 or 12, we went on a big family holiday to Europe. And on that holiday, we saw a stage of the Tour de France. And then, for me, it just clicked. I thought that’s what I want to do. This is a real sport. This is cool. And then that’s when I just started training like a maniac. And that was the whole goal. The only plan, you know?

Jeff
As an eight or nine year old kid, I would be bummed that I don’t get to do go-kart racing. That seems like it’d be way more fun than riding bikes. But, it sounds like you’re such a competitive person, no matter what the activity was you were going to go all in. Was that kind of your motivation? Just competition?

Lachlan
Initially, for sure. I think when you’re a kid who’s young, you just gravitate towards things that you’re good at. And, cycling was pretty low-hanging fruit. There weren’t many bike riders my age that I grew up with. You think, I’m good at this, I can do well, and you get that gratification from going to a race once a weekend. From doing well.

I think what I really liked was that I’m not alone. But, I don’t mind spending time alone. And so once the training element kicked in, that’s when I really fell in love with it. Because I could, get up at five in the morning and put lights on my bike, and go to training. I’d have this freedom. I would spend three hours a day before school on my bike. I always just remember having this feeling of I’ve already kind of had a day before the day even started. I could have the ownership of that. And that’s what really pulled me in that and trying to win races. But I’m really only competitive in the race scenario. I’m not one of those people who needs to be winning all the time.

Jeff
Are you competitive? If you’re playing cards, board games, or other stuff like that? Or is it just biking?

Lachlan
Absolutely not, just in riding. I used to be even competitive in training, but now it’s purely if I’ve got a number on now. I’m not a hectic athlete that needs to be first every race.

Jeff
It seems in 2014, you did the documentary film with your brother, Angus, “Thereabouts,” which made it seem that it was a turning point for you. Did you start to look at competition differently after that? Or was that not a change, was it more like “I know what I want to do now”?

Lachlan
It was a different shift. Anyone who’s 20 years old, you’re still trying to work out their whole direction in life. And for me, there was a big turning point, because I essentially achieved what I wanted, which was to make the elite level of the sport, and I was only 20 years old. I had a good season, won some races, but was just still unhappy. And when I say still unhappy, I think once I got to that point, for a number of different reasons, I kind of isolated myself and I was so far down the rabbit hole with trying to win races that it just eroded everything thing else away.

It was like, on that ride, it was kind of taking stock a little bit, and working out what I wanted. And I think that was probably the first bike ride I’d done, or not the first but the first big bike ride I’d done that didn’t have like a purpose to it. It wasn’t training. It wasn’t a training camp. It wasn’t racing. It was just, let’s just go ride bikes. It was just a big shift in mindset for me. I was thinking, Oh, wow, I can have these kinds of experiences through riding. And that was such a departure from everything I’d done on a bike before that. And that was me feeling like I want to do more of this.

So that kind of led to a transition out of racing for a while because I knew I just needed that timeout for myself. And then we started to do a few more trips. And I came to the US to race in a bit less intense environment and joined a smaller team. And, that was kind of a beginning, eventually, I did go back and race the world tour for a number of years, another five years or something. But it was definitely more on my own terms with a conscious decision to do it. And definitely seeking to find much more of a balance in my riding, and in life in general, but it was pretty much the same thing.

Jeff
Well we’ve heard that you’re hoping to make a run at the record for circumnavigating the world by bike. So is an attempt still on your radar for that?

Lachlan
It’s a possibility, there’s obviously the conflict, between Ukraine and Russia. That definitely complicates that. But, yes.

Jeff
Do you have a route in mind? Russia is huge. I imagine pretty much any route is gonna have to go through there.

Lachlan
Yeah, you really do need to go through there if you’re trying to go fast. It’s actually been good, because we sort of had this idea, and there’s always a temptation to just look for the next biggest thing. What’s the next biggest thing? That’s because you can go here. So, it’s definitely something I still want to do.

I think I would like to play with the format a bit because I’m where I’m at now, if you do it, you do it supported. You just have to think about the circumference of the Earth is the distance you have to cover just like more or less 30,000k? And then you have to hit two points of polarity. Basically, the opposite sides of the earth.

Jeff
Yeah, antipodal points.

Lachlan
I think the reality of it is a lot of logistics. It’s wildly expensive. And you don’t even have to hit every continent. For example, the route, you could skip like Africa. So I think it would still be a cool experience, but it would be like a lot of highways. A lot of being in the aero bars cranking along. Which is one of those records that you’re thinking, “what am I just trying to do, have the record?”

Jeff
It’s such an experience, there’s so much you would potentially see.

Lachlan
Yeah, it would be a shame to miss all this nice riding, because you’d like to go on the hot route and cover the best case. So it’s been good because I can have a bit more time to think about how we want to do it. And what would make for the best experience as well as the biggest challenge.

So it’s definitely something I still really want to do. I just don’t know if I’ll do it in the initial format that we thought. I mean, maybe I will, and I’ll come around to that idea. But it’s on the back burner for now, but definitely, on the list of things I want to do. Maybe, in the next three or four years,

Jeff
Well, Mark Beaumont, I believe is the one who still has the record. And he wrote a book about it, The Man Who Cycled the World, which is an awesome book, super fascinating. Have you spoken with Mark, or have you read his book? Did that kind of inspire you? Or is this one of those doing your own thing?

Lachlan
No, no, I haven’t read the book. And I haven’t met him. He’s obviously an incredible athlete. That’s a very stout record to do a lot of kilometers every day. It takes a lot of mental and physical ability to do that, I have a lot of respect for that. But no, I haven’t. I haven’t read the book, I like to go into things a little bit naive, slightly underprepared. So there’s still an interesting element of I don’t know what’s going to happen. But it is a hell of a record for sure. The crazy thing is, it must be a lot about getting in and out of airports quickly.

Jeff
Right, it’s almost like a triathlon.

Lachlan
You need a group of people who are helping you do that. So I think maybe one of the things that have me second-guessing the record is it’s so inaccessible. Unless you have a lot of funding. There aren’t a lot of attempts at it, I think it’s because it’s such a big undertaking. I like the idea of an established route that is safe but also interesting. A big challenge that anyone can throw some bags on their bike and have a crack at it. I think that’s a cool idea. But again, a huge project.

Jeff
Is it risky to sort of publicize your FKT attempts ahead of time? Do you normally do that if you’re going to do an FKT? Are you letting people know that you’re doing it? Or would you rather do it as a sneak attack?

Lachlan
I don’t really mind. The plan with around the world… there wasn’t… we’d literally just started speaking about it. And then I saw it on the Internet somewhere. So it wasn’t a big plan to go on and announce it, I’m gonna go do this.

Jeff
Around your Kokkopellis FKT, do you worry if you say, “Hey, I’m gonna go for the FKT?” And then you end up not doing it, or you fail, and you don’t set a new record time? Are you worried about that at all? Or does that help motivate you to kind of put it out there?

Lachlan
I don’t know. I think if you’re purely in it for the record, then you’re gonna have a shitty time anyway. So I try and make it as if you’re trying to go as fast as you can. But if you’re only going to get the record out of it, then that’s a bad motivation. But I rode Kokopelli, two or three weeks ago, and didn’t tell anyone. And I had an hour and a half to do the last 15k, then sliced a sidewall, and just had to hike out. But I just wanted to go do that, because I was in the area. And I was thinking it’d be sweet to go out there and have another on the day on the trail.

It wasn’t a big announcement, even though it’s going significantly faster than the last time I rode it. So I guess I think ideally, no one knows. Because then it’s easier to create your own mental environment. But I think I’ve just kind of learned, but it’s also part of my job, to go and do things that the team can publicize. So I’ve learned that you just have to decide on how you’re going to do it, the experience you’re trying to have, and then go about executing that, as opposed to thinking about the broader appeal of a record or a film. I just kind of focus on the riding element.

Jeff
It seems like a lot of your adventures are tied to fundraising for various nonprofits. So I’m curious, which causes are near and dear to your heart?

Lachlan
Well that shifts. Sometimes you get passionate about different things, but I think generally anything that allows other people to have experiences on bikes, I think is probably the thing I’m most passionate about. I do genuinely believe that. If everyone had access and could ride bikes every day, the world would be a better place, and people would be happier. So I think Access to Bikes, and Bicycle Relief, do a very good job at what they do. And that’s a cause that, I think is, really worth getting behind. But there are so many different avenues that you could put your energy into, to try and help. But I think for me, it makes the most sense to do something that I have a connection to, and understand a little bit.

Jeff
It seems you’re definitely someone who’s always trying new things and learning, a very experiential learner. So in that way, do you think EF education is that like a good sponsorship fit for you? It seems that’s kind of their mission, too. Do you feel a connection between that?

Lachlan
Definitely, the most valuable things I’ve learned have all come through traveling and putting myself in foreign or uncomfortable situations. Their whole program is about taking people and putting them in different locations for the process of learning. It makes total sense to me, the way they value cycling as a sport and they see value in it, even on a business level. So I think that’s important.

Cycling tends to have a pretty high turnover rate of title sponsors and people who would sort of come into it either because they have a lot of money that they can throw at something and give away, maybe it’s sometimes poorly managed by a team who just want a sponsor to put a name on a jersey and then that’s kind of the end of it. EF’s good because they’re very involved. Just in what I do, they can see the value in me going to road races, for example. Because it makes sense, financially for them, if you’re honest. I think it’s been a really, really cool partnership.

Jeff
There’s a part in Thereabouts where you mentioned, as a kid, riding this Franken bike, a bike that didn’t have any brakes. What did that teach you about riding? Did you learn anything about biking from riding without brakes?

Lachlan
I think that’s why I still feel so much more comfortable, like in flat pedals because we used the foot brake. But yeah, we had like a course around the house. And to be honest, I think that was us trying to replicate motor racing on a bike. We would set up these courses and do qualifying and all this kind of stuff. So it was definitely a good foundation. It was learning racing and bike skills in a very informal, fun environment. I think it’s pretty hard, you can’t really replicate that.

A lot of my most fond cycling memories were spent with mates just racing each other around the house. Probably also the biggest crash I’ve had. Just like pulling the bikes apart. What if we put the big wheel on the front? That was just a lot of fun. That was my initial introduction to bike racing.

Jeff
They say you learn a lot from crashing, more than from some of the riding you do. And it also seems like a good metaphor.

Lachlan
I was just a slow learner then.

Jeff
That seems like a good metaphor for life too, though, no brakes. Just considering that, what does that mean? For life? For racing and career and all of that stuff?

Lachlan
Yeah, it means you go through a lot of pairs of shoes.

Jeff
For sure. You kind of have talked about this, but is there a lot of pressure on professional cycling athletes to have this strong social media presence today? Is that different from kind of when you started racing?

Lachlan
I don’t have any pressure on it. My social media will only really be Instagram, that’s actually alive. I’ve never had to like to push it. I just kind of put things out there that are just what I’m doing. Genuinely.

Jeff
Do sponsors ever say you’ve got to post something once a week and you’ve got to mention us?

Lachlan
There’s definitely a lot of that, I think that goes on but I don’t take any of those things on. One because like, it’s a pain in the ass.

Jeff
Yeah, you’re busy.

Lachlan
You can see it in the last few years. Riders obviously have a big push on their social media account because it has value. But, I’ve never had anything like that directly enforced upon me. I think the second that happened, I would probably do away with it.

There are obviously positives and negatives to it. I’ve met so many great people and had so many great bike rides and people I’ve met through Instagram, basically anywhere I go, now I can find someone to ride with, and they can show me local routes or I can just connect with people, who are maybe new on their cycling journey or have specific questions, and I’ll do my best to get back to people. I can’t get back to everyone. But that’s definitely one of those things that are good.

And sometimes, you’ll be on a plane for like, the second time in a week, going somewhere to do something that you’re thinking, What am I doing, and then you can find people who it gives you motivation to, because people might send you a message to say they’ve connected with what you’re doing.

So there’s a lot of positives, you know, and I think it’s just about the way you approach it. If it’s a pressure, or if you only are drawing comparisons with people, that’s when it becomes a little bit toxic. When it just makes me sad is when I see people who are like that, it’s like they’re all kitted up, and going for the ride, just for the video, just to say that. And I’m just missing the point a little bit. I mean, it’s great, because it’s drawn more and more people into cycling, which is always going to be a positive. But I think the people out there doing it purely for the reaction they’re gonna get, on social media, ultimately, they’re missing out a little bit. I’m not dumping on the internet. It’s definitely not a negative thing because I think there are so many good things that have come out of it. You do see a lot of connections that are made, through social media that become real-world, genuine relationships that I think, that’s a positive for sure.

Jeff
Thinking more broadly, do you think there are things that sponsors and the bike industry can do to support athletes better? It seems like a big part of it is brands seeing athletes as influencers or whatever? Is there a better way you think that people can support the athletes?

Lachlan
It’s really evolving, At the moment, it used to be when I started racing, at least, as it seemed to me, the only way to make a living riding bikes was to win races or do well in races. That was a requirement. So that’s a very thin cross-section of the people who were asking to ride bikes. I think it’s exciting now that there are more and more people who are able to carve out a living in cycling, who aren’t competitive, or competitive in a very different way. So I think that’s cool. I’m glad to see brands get behind that. I think the more they get behind that, the nicer cycling, the community will grow. It will draw more and more people in but you’re just going to have a much more varied and interesting cycling landscape, especially among, professionals. I guess hopefully, it’s not just a trend. Because as much as my cycling career is based, a lot less on results than it used to be, there is always an element of like, you but have still have to be fast.

I enjoy racing, so I don’t really mind. But I think the more that evolves, the more interesting things you’re going to see, out there. It’s just an evolution that’s taking place and I think ultimately, it’s a positive thing. And the more the bike manufacturers and the industry can get behind it, the better it is to be open to different and new ideas.

Think of something like that Unbound XL. Even just four years ago, I was saying, that’s crazy, that’s just crazy people. Now it just is, a few hundred people on the start line ready to race, the whole thing, which I think is exciting.

But, as even those spaces become more competitive, it’s going to draw people into even further out and more interesting places. So I guess I’m excited to see where it goes. And I think there’s probably never been a better time to be a professional athlete really. Even though it’s potentially more complicated. I think that it’s more now what you can make of it, as opposed to having to follow a set path, which I think is a good trend.

Jeff
It’s definitely a two-way street. As you said, the athletes obviously owe something to their sponsors. And, the conventional way is you win races. But as the athlete, it’s kind of up to you as well, to find different ways to support your sponsors. Being creative and doing these different projects, for the same result, maybe it’s even better than winning a race. Who knows?

Lachlan
For sure. I think if your ideas and your execution and your intent are all in line, then you can go into things outside of racing that can have equally or if not more of an impact than winning a bike race. But as you said, no one’s ever going to pay you to just go ride your bike, and no one knows about it. So like there is a way right, but maybe one day.

Jeff
In the video of your Kokopelli FKT run from — I guess it was a couple of years ago — you look super calm and collected. Was that an accurate reflection of how you were feeling at the time? What are you feeling during something like that?

Lachlan
I love those big days by yourself when you’re just in control of your effort and what you’re doing. Like, for me, that’s a must at home, in those situations, and that was something I discovered in the first ultra race that I did. I was like, Oh, wow, I’m good at this. I’m here. And it took me a long time to find that sort of spot in any competitive sense. But I’ve also learned that you need to be very calm, and try and have a good hold on your emotions, doing something like that.

Jeff
Does that work? You can’t just be saying, “Be calm, be calm,” and then you calm yourself when you’re stressing out.

Lachlan
It’s just sort of experience. I’ve definitely lost it my fair share of times, and I’ve realized that every time you do that, not only does it take away from the experience, but it also slows you down generally. It’s just more of always gonna have ups and downs, that just happens, but it’s about managing your emotions in a way that you still have control of it. And you’re still able to sort of execute what you’re doing without getting overly excited or overly down on yourself at any time.

And I think also doing something like that, where maybe you’re running a line on how much water you’re carrying. It’s those things where it’s like, are there consequences if I get this wrong? And you need to be calm. Because otherwise, you can make rash decisions that have broader impacts down the trail. I’m genuinely very calm with that.

As I said, the other day when I was on the trail, and sliced my sidewall, I knew immediately, that’s unfixable. With what I have here, it was when I would put a tube in it and then I broke my pump. But then I got phone reception. I’m just gonna make a new route to hike to the I-70. If I lost it and was upset and trying to continue riding it would have taken me hours to get out of there because I want to track down the trail and whatever. Instead, I looked at what’s happened. You’re walking now. Just, get out to a road where you can call someone.

That kind of goes back to that, at the end of the day, I still got to have all the experiences I had up to that point in the way that I really liked. So it doesn’t detach from that. And it kind of forces you to be feeling as if you weren’t out here just for a record. So you still had everything, but you still got to do all the riding that you did. Yeah, I think if you’ve seen me in the first long-distance competitive thing I did. That was much less kind of,

Jeff
Something you learn?

Lachlan
Yeah. Or the first time I did the Colorado trail, I was just a mess. Because I did it last year, I was so much more collected and calm. And it was such a nice experience, so I’d say it just comes to experience.

Jeff
Yeah, well, you’re calm during the race. What about beforehand, do you get nervous?

Lachlan
No, not really. You have all the preparing and stuff, getting bikes and food and all that kind of thing. Sorted GPX tracks. It’s almost nice when you can just be saying, Alright, sweet. Everything’s already in there. I can just go and do the thing. I guess there were probably more nerves before. But the second you start riding, you’re thinking, Oh, this is what I know. This is my comfort zone.

Jeff
Yeah. Is it like a frenzy for you, though preparing? Are you like running around the house? Like, where’s my thing? And you know, I gotta have this and I gotta have that? Or are you able to kind of stay calm with that too?

Lachlan
I’m calm about it. I’m never as prepared as I want to be. But I kind of thrive in the chaos of it a little bit. But at least now I know, I have all the things that I need. It’s just a matter of locating them and deciding what I’m going to bring. But that’s also much easier than it used to be just through experience, right? The things you need, and you know, the things you don’t need. And now I always bring a little bit more than I probably am going to need because it just makes you that much more comfortable and calms when you’re out there knowing that you’d like prepared. It’s still a little chaotic. Normally, it’s just a time crunch. But, yeah, not too bad.

Jeff
Okay. Well, so you’re at a point where obviously, you can pick and choose kind of the races and the adventures that you take on the bike, what do you want your legacy to look like? What is kind of the end goal? What are you shooting for?

Lachlan
To be honest, I think the most satisfaction I get out of riding, is on a day-to-day level. I just like the fact that I can go out and decide what I want to do with my day. I want to go ride my bike. So that’s ultimately to just extend that as long as I can. That’s my goal.

But I think the goal with racing or taking on challenges, and that kind of thing is one to just continue to challenge myself because I think it’s important to keep pushing yourself in different ways. Because once you stop doing that, it’s easy to stagnate, which I don’t want to do. But the satisfaction is always probably from now when I go to different events. And people have picked up a bike, whatever, three years ago, because they saw our YouTube video and decided that they wanted to do that. And then now that they’re on the start line, giving it a crack, and that’s the goal is to get people involved in the sport, and challenging themselves and hopefully bettering their own lives on the way.

That’s why I would like to leave the sport having drawn a number of people into cycling that otherwise would never have interacted with the sport. That’s what I would like to do. But to be honest, it’s genuinely everything I do, is drawn out of a genuine interest and motivation to do it. And I want to keep that intact because going back It’s easy to get drawn into things and there’s so many opportunities to race and do things now that it’s easy to get drawn into things for the wrong reasons, in terms of maybe you’re trying to get more views on a video, or maybe you’re trying to race something because you just want to add it to like a list of races you’ve won or something. And I think if you’re doing it for those reasons, you’ll ultimately, you know, lose passion for what you’re doing, or you just won’t have a good time in whatever event or that isn’t like that’s probably my biggest, biggest priority or a kind of rule, I guess, is only taking on things because I’m genuinely excited about going to do them, you know?

Jeff
Yeah. Well, clearly it shows in your videos and all the projects you do and your racing. Inspiration is definitely the word that comes to mind. So thank you so much for joining us. We’re really excited to follow along with you on your next adventures.

Lachlan
Thanks for having me.

Jeff
Well, you can keep up with Lachlan @lachlanmorton on Instagram. And be sure to keep following singletracks, where we’ll continue to update you on his accomplishments. Thanks for joining us.

The article Lachlan Morton Talks Unbound Finish, Kokopelli’s FKT, and Biking Without Brakes appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

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The passion and enthusiasm of the Icelandic mountain biking community is truly contagious. Despite facing significant challenges such as limited resources and environmental restrictions, these riders and trail builders continue to work tirelessly to create more mountain biking opportunities.

Directed and produced by @ScottBell. Co-produced by @MarkMatthewsMTB. Sponsored by @pearlizumi.

The article The Rise of Iceland’s Mountain Bike Scene [Video] appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

Despite being a little more difficult to watch this year than when it was on Red Bull TV, it’s hard not to get excited about watching World Cup mountain biking. Whether it’s toe-to-toe racing and sprint battles on XCO courses or watching the last man or woman come down a chewed up downhill track trying to unseat whoever is in the hot seat, World Cup mountain biking is the everyday mountain biker’s connection to the highest limits of the sport.

This season started at Nove Mesto last month with the first cross-country racing of the year, and continues this weekend in Lenzerheide, Switzerland with cross-country Olympic, short track, and downhill. Will you be watching?

If you don’t plan to tune in this year, tell us why in the comments below.

The article Are you Watching World Cup Mountain Biking This Year? appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.

Zach Vogel and his 11-year-old son Ethan’s Tuesday evening mountain bike ride started out as a challenging but harmless agenda: ride from their home in Golden, Colorado to North Table Mountain for a short loop and back home, just in time for dinner.

As Vogel’s sons, 11 and 13, age into adolescence, they’ve grown out of kid’s bikes and into size small adult bikes. Ethan recently inherited his mom’s old Santa Cruz Blur trail bike and wanted to ride North Table with dad, the first trail they rode together.

At about 6:30 p.m., they stopped for a picture together and carried on with the ride, descending down a rocky trail with Ethan ahead and Vogel a few feet behind. The two carefully cruised down to a technical section; two boulders with a narrow channel. Ethan’s front wheel cleared the two rocks, but his back wheel caught one and he started to tip, putting him over the front of the bike and onto the side of the trail. Vogel watched from behind.

“He literally in slow motion fell over,” Vogel told us in an interview Friday morning. “It just happened really fast, and I’m watching from my bike, and he landed in the tall grass right next to the trail and just fell right on top of a rattlesnake.”

Neither riders knew a snake rested silently on the side of the trail in the grass, but Ethan felt the bite immediately. He jumped back, knowing he’d been bitten, and pulled up his shirt to see two fresh fang marks on his right pectoral. Vogel ripped Ethan’s shirt off, sat him down on the ground away from the snake and called 911.

Vogel knew he needed to keep Ethan comfortable when he was on the phone with 911 dispatchers. He laid him on his right side with Ethan’s heart above the wound and told the dispatcher what happened and where they sat while the dispatcher asked what symptoms Ethan felt. Vogel tried to keep his son and himself calm.

“When you’re 11-year-old son is in your arms, and you know he’s been bitten and he knows he’s been bitten and he knows how dangerous and deadly they are and he’s crying to you, and saying that he’s not ready to die…[I’m] just trying to keep myself together because our kids, you know, we’ve got three kids, so they’re going to respond how we respond and the reaction that we show on our face. I just talked him off the ledge.”

The venom acted quickly, said Vogel. Seven minutes after the bite, white spots appeared on Ethan’s cheeks and he threw up bile. His face, lips, and eyes grew numb as sirens screamed toward them in the distance.

By this point, 10-15 other mountain bikers had gathered around the two and lended any help they could. Some sprinted down to greet paramedics as they arrived and show the crew to the father and son. Nineteen minutes passed from the first 911 call to when first responders arrived.

Paramedics hoisted Ethan into an ambulance. His heart was elevated at around 165BPM, said Vogel, but his blood pressure was “tanking.” They treated Ethan with steroids and other medications immediately, but he couldn’t be administered an anti-venom until he reached the hospital.

When he reached the ER, doctors put him on a 90 minute IV drip, slowly releasing 10 vials of anti-venom into Ethan. Slowly but surely, Ethan’s vital signs started stabilizing.

While a bite on Ethan’s chest, close to his heart seems like one of the worst possible locations to be bitten, doctors told Vogel it was a best case scenario compared to an extremity like the wrist or ankle where more veins are present to carry and circulate the venom.

By 8:30 p.m., doctors told Vogel that Ethan was reacting positively to the anti-venom. Ethan’s heart rate was coming back down and his blood pressure rose to a normal level again. The doctors and paramedics who treat a number of rattlesnake bites every summer told him his son would likely be alright.

“I was able to take a deep breath at that point and realize that things are going to be OK because his body is responding positively to the anti-venom.” Ethan’s mother spent the night with him at the hospital and Vogel went home to take care of their other two kids. By Friday morning, Ethan was quickly recovering.

“He’s an 11-year-old,” said Vogel. “You have to strap him to the bed to rest because he wants to get up and move.”

Thinking back on what went right that evening, Vogel said he did his best to keep Ethan calm and comfortable and make themselves as accessible to first responders as possible.

“Because once it’s in their hands, they’re the trained professionals at what they do. At that point, the ball is in their court.”

Ethan said he’s eager to get back on the bike again. He and his brother have been venturing out on their own at trails close to home and they’ll be able to go out again soon, as long as they have a fully-charged phone and are aware of their surroundings and how to call for help. There will always be risks in mountain biking, Vogel said, he just wants his sons to be able to mitigate them and plan accordingly. In the mean time, dad picked Ethan up some new gloves and a new hip pack.

“We just keep gearing him up so he’ll be ready to go,” he said. “When he’s ready, his bike and everything will be ready.”

Update: A GoFundMe for Ethan’s medical bills has been created here.

The article This Dad Acted Fast to Save his Son After a Rattlesnake Bite on a Trail Ride appeared first on Singletracks Mountain Bike News.