the community driven mountain bike magazine

T H E C O M M U N I T Y D R I V E N M O U N TA I N B I K E M A G A Z I N E
TIM HAREN Chasing Dragons
QUEBEC Cerce Complet
MIKE MCCORMACK It Takes a Village
KOOTENAY TRAIL TRIPPIN’ Rules of the Road
STEVE LLOYD Tunnel Vision
SPRING 2015 | THROUGH 7/28/15
1x11
2x11
2x10
FAR AND WIDE
GX is not about bikes. It’s about people.
It’s the drivetrain for experienced
riders, beginners and those about to
discover the power of bikes. No matter
who you are, there’s a GX drivetrain
with a range of 1x and 2x gearing options
to personalize your ride. Engineered
in Germany, SRAM GX uses proven
technology to create the drivetrain to
take you far and wide.
Photos: Adrian Marcoux © 2015 SRAM LLC
We have arrived. All from different
locations, backgrounds and
responsibilities to celebrate this
common bond, the ride. And
just like each of our lives, the mutual
enjoyment we share is unique.
Different bikes, questionable line
choices and individual ability
can separate and connect us all
at once. This opportunity to
express is what holds us to the trail
and what grounds us in life.
RIDE
WITH
US
SRAM.COM/GX
GO BIG
The new Stache is unlike any other hardtail. Three-inch wide
29+ tires deliver unrelenting traction for full suspension
capability in a trail hardtail package.
S tac he | t re k b i ke s.co m
PHOTO MARGUS RIGA RIDER DYLAN SHERRARD
PHOTO MARGUS RIGA RIDER WADE SIMMONS
GO
BIG
OR GO
LOAM
COMING SPRING 2015
VERSATILITY IS THE NEW STANDARD
The Race Face Cinch System: interchangeable spiders & spindles, limitless ring
combinations, and compatibility across all relevant frame standards. The most
versatile crankset you will ever own. #CinchNation
CINCH
For more info check out www.evil-bikes.com
CONTENTS SPRING TWENT Y F I F T E E N V O L 6 . 1
DEPARTMENTS
17
Who We Are | Digital Overload
19 It Can’t Exist | Rogue Waves and Crumbling Castles with artist Dan Mumford
23 Contributors | Amazing People Behind this Issue
25 Masthead | Who Did It?
29
Steel Beauty | 10 Years of Absolute Mashing
103 Within Our City Limits | The Small Town of Mountain Biking
111 The Enduro Squad | Introducing the 2015 Freehub Enduro Team
FEATURES
35
Chasing Dragons | Fighting and Finding Peace with Tim Haren
47 Cercle Complet | Inside the Hub of Quebec’s Mountain Biking
61 It Takes a Village | Mike McCormack’s Far-Flung Audacity and Down-Home Immersion
75
Rules of the Road | Trail Tripping through British Columbia’s Kootenay Mountains
85 Tunnel Vision | Hucks and Hike-a-Bikes with Photographer Steve Lloyd
Cover Shot : Photo by Steve Lloyd
The first Saltair Pavilion, built on the shores of the Great Salt Lake in 1893, was
initially intended to provide a wholesome, elder-supervised resort experience
for the area’s Mormon denizens—particularly young couples searching for a
gossip-free vacation. It was the most popular amusement park west of New
York’s Coney Island…that is, until it was destroyed by a fire in 1925, as was
the second version in 1970. Amanda and Chad Cordell enjoy a different style
of ideal couple’s night, pedaling into the sunset while an imaginary Saltair
suffers a more aquatically destructive fate. Art: Dan Mumford.
This page: Amanda and Chad Cordell weave through the
Bonneville Shoreline Trail’s unique rock pillars, formed by
water, erosion and the receding of the ancient Bonneville
Lake, during an unusually dry spell. The combination of dust
and evening light cast a perfect backlight on the landscape
before the night’s shadows set in. Photo: Steven Lloyd
bikes. intelligence. life
|
DEVINCI/ALLTRICKS.COM ENDURO TEAM
STOUT skills
NEXT STOP, GUINNESS COUNTRY, IRELAND , MAY 24TH
photo | sven martin
devinci.com
|
Photo: Hoshi Yoshida
JAMES DOERFLING
SRSUNTOUR WERX ATHLETE
FAST AND LOOSE APPROVED.
34 mm platform | 130-160 mm travel | adjustable air volume
QSP-fully sealed damper - RL-RC, RC2, TA-RC2 | weight starting
from 1945 grams incl. axle
SRSUNTOUR North America, Aftermarket Sales and Service 855 255 BIKE (2453), [email protected]
SRSUNTOUR (Supported by USUL MD Corp), Aftermarket Sales and Service (608) 229-6611, [email protected]
www.srsuntour-cycling.com www.srsuntourna.com
Welcome to the age of digital overload, where everything has an underlying code
of “1”s and “0”s and every subject has a hashtag. In this ever-evolving whirlwind, some
people are worried about the future of print. We’re not.
Over the last five years, we’ve grown from a one-man, part-time operation to a 9-to-5
(okay, 10-ish to 4-ish) team of six-plus individuals, devoted to spreading mountain bike
stoke. Sometimes the e-mails seem endless and sneaking out for a ride requires more
effort than it should. With the ever-quickening obligations of social media, this type of
electronic tumult is an inevitable side effect of making magazines in the 21st century. Or
living in general. If you don’t want to be a sociopath, that is.
It’s a digital madness that can be at times all-consuming, the humans around us replaced
by Instagram and Google, but our shared two-wheeled freedom offers blessed relief. For
some, like Tim Haren, bike rides have become the key to finding long-sought inner peace.
For the riders of Quebec, it’s the knowledge that the gears of their bike industry and bike
culture revolve within their borders. Mike McCormack’s reprieve is giving back through
the Breck Epic and the Eagle Outside Festival, and getting the next generation hooked
through the sidewalks of his 7,000-person hometown.
At Freehub, our meditation is telling these stories to the greater bike community in general, via the 116 pages of each issue and now at FreehubMag.com. Ironically that often
takes month-long electronic benders, but the tangible copy is its own moment of Zen,
and the social media machine allows us to further connect the community that drives our
content. Because for all our solo rides, all the missed calls while digging in the woods, all
the wondrous hours on airplane mode, mountain biking is a social pursuit. It’s a tribe,
and depends on extroverts and anti-technology hermits alike. Without them—and you—
fresh trail would be lacking, our terrain more confined, and our community less brilliant.
And so, five years into this little monster that is Freehub, we’ll keep on logging office binges
and surviving hashtag overloads. You keep riding your bike.
Jann Eberharter,
Associate Editor
17
ITCAN’T
Rogue Waves and Crumbling
Castles with Dan Mumford
Interview and words by Jann Eberharter
At Freehub we like it when things get a little weird. Not to the point of bizarre (or
illegal), but just enough to always keep things fresh and unpredictable. That’s the
whole concept behind collaborating with artists on our covers, and we select each
because their touch is a nudge away from reality. This simple mixture of a stunning
photograph and an artist’s vision always seems to bring about a surreal landscape:
a place where we’d one day like to ride bikes ourselves, even though it can’t exist in
real life. Or perhaps because it can’t exist.
For Volume Six, we’re passing the torch to UK-based illustrator Dan Mumford over the next three issues. We’ve been
following his art for a while now, and dreaming about what
it might look like on a cover. We sent him Steve Lloyd’s
photo, and what he sent back…well you’ve seen it. And if
it makes you want to pedal in search of that transcendent
world of rogue waves and crumbling castles, then we’ve
done exactly what we’ve set out to. We’ll see you there.
The question of where to begin is always a tough one,
so we’ll start with that.
The main thing to consider is, “What do I want to show or
say with this piece?” If it’s a movie poster, who is important? What do I want to highlight? If it’s a band, how do I
show that band in a way that describes them, and so forth.
With a piece like this, it was, “How do I make this look epic
in scope?” Then I just sketch ideas out and let it flow quite
naturally into a nice composition.
19
PHOTO: GIBSON // RIDER: SNEDDON
EXIST
GET OUT
THERE
Inspiration is everywhere, and the funny thing about
it is it often says more about you than you could ever
say yourself.
Influence for me is something that I tend to take from
things I enjoy: movies, comics, videogames, horror, sci-fi.
I think all of that feeds into my work in a way that I can’t
necessarily pinpoint. I don’t tend to look too much to artists at all. There are certainly those I think are inspiring in
their output and ability, so in a way they certainly can be
an influence, just not necessarily in their style.
Personal style is essentially the artist’s signature
over the entire piece.
I would say I aim for somewhere between intensely detailed and beautiful work. I always try to make something
nice to look at, even if the content might not be something
beautiful in itself, be it through color or composition.
TREAD LITE TR
HARDPACK
CROSSMARK TR
INTERMEDIATE
IKON TR
ALL-AROUND
Mountain bike stage racing requires a blend of XC speed and Marathon
endurance. The Kona Team has combined these skills with the best equipment
to become a podium contender at events worldwide. With our ever-expanding
Tubeless Ready line, Maxxis provides them with the confidence to finish and
the performance to win. Available in 26”, 27.5” and 29” sizes.
maxxis.com // Ask for them at your local bike shop
To me color was always an afterthought—in the past I
used to work solely in black and white, so through working
with bands on T-shirts and creating screen prints it became
necessary to add a few colors every now and then. I slowly
learned how to use color effectively in a minimalistic way
from that. The more I did, the more comfortable I became
with adding color and trying to make things more vibrant.
Now I just try to use color effectively to suit the piece. I also
enjoy trying to include an intense light source. I think that
can help a piece come alive.
As a freelance artist jobs come and go, but the art is
your livelihood—if you get burnt out, there go the paychecks, and balancing what a client wants and what
your creativity tells you can be tricky.
I tend to be OK with clients directing quite closely, as long
as they are up front about it and also respect my input and
understanding of what will and will not work. Generally
most clients are a pleasure though—I haven’t really ever
had much trouble in the past. I work on quite a few personal
pieces as well, so I get a lot of freedom in that respect. I’m
the only one in control there.
Avoiding a creative rut is ideal, but sometimes the
only option is pointing your tires directly at it and
owning it for as long as necessary.
Most of my clients were metal/alternative/punk bands
when I was starting out. The aesthetic that world lends itself to is generally more of a horror vibe, so it was simply a
case of becoming known for that sort of thing, I suppose. It
doesn’t excite me all that much these days though, not constantly anyway. I do love that sort of thing and the content
within it, but I am more excited by exploring more varied
ideas at the moment.”
One of those ideas came in the form of Freehub’s cover art, and when we asked Dan to illustrate Volume
Six it didn’t take long for him to jump on board.
It’s something different! More diverse projects that are new
or that ask for something different can really get my brain
working in overdrive. It forces you to step out of your comfort
zone and try new things. In this situation where I am working
on something that is also merged with an amazing photo, it
really is quite a different thing for me to try my hand at.
It’s also different in the fact the finished project isn’t
solely Dan’s work. It’s a collaboration that brings two
very different worlds together.
UNLOCK NEW LINES
I viewed it more as a way to work with beautiful photography and accentuate the subject matter that’s within the
image. I had seen how cool the output had been in the
past, and thought it would be a nice challenge. With this I
see myself more as someone working on the background.
It’s more about how I’m helping place the subjects into a
foreign world.
It's time to break the limits on what you thought your trail bike could
do. The top-caliber DBINLINE packs the performance of a DH shock
into a sleeker design. Offering more features than other shocks in its
class, the award-winning DBINLINE has all the capabilities our esteemed
Double Barrel is known for.
Double Barrel Performance
See the action www.canecreek.com/thedisruptor
Rider: Evan Voss, Cane Creek Employee
Location: DuPont State Forest
Dan’s color palate is vibrant, fluid and often non-traditional, which can change what each individual takes
away from a piece.
CONTRIBUTORS
AMAZING PE OP L E B E H I N D T H I S I S SU E
Devon Balet
Devon discovered mountain biking when he started working at a bike shop at age 14.
Born and raised in Colorado, he put himself through Colorado Mountain College,
where he earned a photography degree and dreamt of becoming a full-time freelance
photographer. At the age of 27 he was fired from his “real” job and with this new
freedom he decided it was time to go for that dream. He hasn’t looked back since. “I
have the honor of calling what I do work: riding bikes and shooting photos of people
riding bikes,” Devon says. “I feel blessed to do what I do each and every day.” His
portfolio can be found at devonbaletmedia.com.
TJ Kearns
It’s never too late to find a new calling, something TJ Kearns knows from experience.
Born and raised in the suburbs of Atlanta, GA, he developed a strong love for exploring the outdoors at an early age, and was on his first mountain bike at age 9. It wasn’t
until TJ turned 27, when a friend asked him to take a few shots of him riding, that he
discovered his other true passion: photography. Twenty years after that first ride, TJ
still has a fire inside for anything two-wheeled. He moved to Asheville, NC in 2014,
abandoning the 9-to-5 grind to pursue a career as a professional photographer.
WHERE all
trails Head
WHATEVER IT IS YOU SEEK ON TWO WHEELS, YOU’LL
FIND IT HERE. ENDLESS TRAILS. FRIENDLY LOCALS.
RIDES THAT RIVAL THEM ALL. JOIN US FOR THE RIDE
SUN VALLEY FESTIVAL JUNE 25-28.
Kristian Jackson
For Kristian, writing and riding share a common root: punk rock. As a student at North
Carolina State University in the salad days of the punk era, he was trained in the DoIt-Yourself school of writing and drawing zines, while regularly riding bikes to punk
shows. He soon learned dirt suited mountain bikes better than city streets, and took
his DIY-ethos to western North Carolina, where he established a life around guiding,
teaching and trails. He now lives in Boone, NC with his amazing wife Alecia and their
boys Silas and Jude, where he teaches recreation management at Appalachian State
University and teaches his sons the DIY art of dirt jump building in their backyard.
Jann Eberharter
As a relative newcomer to the mountain bike scene, Jann Eberharter is still learning new
things on the daily—for example, if you’ve got a patch kit, ride with a friend who’s got
a pump. The 23-year-old Boise-to-Bellingham transplant is pursuing a degree in visual
journalism at Western Washington University (estimated date of completion: hopefully
soon). Jann feels most at home in the mountains surrounding Mt. Baker and the trails
outside Bellingham, places filled with like-minded people who provide writing material
and general inspiration. Post-graduation plans? More rides, less homework.
PLAN YOUR TRIP AT VISITSUNVALLEY.COM
23
Slow
Ride
SESSION IPA
MASTHEAD
S P R I N G T WE N T Y F I F T E E N V O L 6 . 1
PUBLISHER:
Brandon Watts
GUEST WORD:
Sakeus Bankson
WEB DEVELOPMENT:
Joel & Matthew Bergsma
CREATIVE DIRECTOR:
Lucy ‘Loo’ Hound
FILM & VIDEO:
Chris Grundberg
OPPS. MANAGER:
Tom Clark
EDITOR AT LARGE:
Ben Gavelda
SENIOR PHOTOG:
Paris Gore
AD DIRECTOR:
Eric Brown
ASSOC. EDITOR:
Jann Eberharter
EDITORIAL MANAGER:
Patrick Spencer
TEAM MANAGER:
Steve Dempsey
Slow Ride
SESSION IPA
CONTRIBUTING WRITERS:
Danielle Baker
Devon Balet
Sakeus Bankson
Jann Eberharter
Ben Gavelda
Kristian Jackson
Brandon Watts
CONTRIBUTING PHOTOGRAPHERS:
Sit Back and
Session in Style.
Padded with citrus aromas
and a bevy of hops, this could
be the most comfortable
ride you can have with a
sessionable IPA. Experience
life in slow-mo at
newbelgium.com
#GoSlowMo
Danielle Baker
Devon Balet
Ben Gavelda
Paris Gore
Brian Hodes
TJ Kearns
Steven Lloyd
CONTRIBUTING ARTISTS:
Dan Mumford, Dan-Mumford.com / Cover Artist
Steven Lloyd, SteveLloydPhoto.com / Cover Photographer
No part of this magazine may be reproduced in any way, shape or form
without the written consent of Freehub Media, LLC.
SUBSCRIPTIONS AND RETAIL ORDERS:
www.FreehubMag.com
Freehub Media, LLC
PO Box 29831, Bellingham, WA 98228-1831
E | [email protected] P | 360 -306 -5828
CONTRIBUTIONS:
Freehub Media, LLC is not responsible for any unsolicited contributions.
All unsolicited contributions must be accompanied with adequate return
postage and materials. Freehub Media, LLC holds rights to republish materials consistent with the original usage. Contributors also retain all rights.
Send contributions to:
PO Box 29831, Bellingham WA 98228-1832 or [email protected]
DISTRIBUTION:
Freehub Magazine is published four times a year, and is printed in
Seattle, WA. Freehub is distributed throughout North America.
All rights reserved to Freehub Media, LLC. Copyright 2015.
Sit Back and Session in Style.
Padded with citrus aromas and a bevy of hops, this could be
the most comfortable ride you can have with a sessionable IPA.
Experience life in slow-mo at newbelgium.com
#GoSlowMo
SLOW RIDE SESSION IPA IS BREWED BY NEW BELGIUM BREWING FORT COLLINS, CO — EMPLOYEE OWNED AND OPERATED
SLOW RIDE SESSION IPA IS BREWED BY NEW BELGIUM BREWING FORT COLLINS, CO
— EMPLOYEE OWNED AND OPERATED —
DOWNLOAD
GOOGL E PL AY &
T HE A PP S T OR E
26
FREEHUBMAG.COM
.5
27
29
NOW TELLING OUR TIMELESS STORIES ONLINE
Hooked.
Handmade in Germany.
Check out our NEW website!
FREEHUBMAG.COM
When in doubt, do what you do best. What Freehub Magazine does best is
tell the authentic and timeless stories from the mountain bike community,
in the highest quality shape and form possible. And now Freehub has a new
way to tell these stories with the same quality we strive for in print, but in
a fashion that connects with our readers in the digital age.
Freehub is excited to announce the newest addition to our story telling
machine—FreehubMag.com. Just as in print, FreehubMag.com’s main
focus is quality over quantity, taking the heart and soul we pour into
our bound pages to offer dynamic stories told in web and video. FreehubMag.com utilizes the best methods to make these stories come to
life, whether it be accompanying features with video and interviews, or
glimpses behind the scenes at our passionate cycle community. We are
your outlet for the timeless content that has shaped our beloved sport,
and you can now follow these stories digitally.
Check out our newest additions and added digital features at the oneand-only FreehubMag.com
Mountain King 2.2 / 2.4
Trail King 2.2 / 2.4
Mud King 2.3
Der Kaiser Projekt 2.4
If you ain’t getting heckled,
You ain’t going fast enough.
STEEL BEAUTY
10 Years of Absolute Mashing
Words and Photos by Brandon Watts
It all started with a 20th Anniversary Rocky Mountain Blizzard hardtail.
29
I built the Blizzard from the ground up while managing a
bike shop in Chicago. I had spent my youth riding BMX
and XC racing, but after moving to the city for college I
took a short hiatus from bikes to pursue my love of skateboarding. When I reconnected with mountain biking a few
years later, I needed a whip for the new era upon me, and so
I built one that could handle everything from urban assaults
through Chicago’s skatepark-esque streets to smashing technical 40-mile rides in North Carolina’s Pisgah National Forest: beefy wheels, 115mm of plush REBA travel, and reinforced Reynolds 853 steel.
one that took two years to explore. It also was in Bozeman
where I found my love for publishing while interning with
hometown-homie Todd Heath at Bomb Snow Magazine. It was
an epiphany for me: through the medium of print, I could
combine my passion for design, the outdoors and, above all,
mountain biking. In 2009, I filed for a business license and
Freehub was officially born as a Montana Limited Liability
Company. That was the first step—although the concept was
now alive, it was still just a piece of paper and dream. Much
like my Blizzard, I had to build up the framework bit by bit
and test its limits trail by trail.
Step ahead to 2007, when a two-week westward road trip
moving from Chicago to Seattle ended with a two-year
pause in Bozeman, MT. The mountains were expansive,
and the singletrack endless—a perfect mix for the Blizzard,
Seattle was still the end destination, and that same year I
packed up my life in Bozeman to pursue Freehub from a new
trailhead. On my way I visited Bellingham, where, like Bozeman, what I had anticipated being a few days of couch
Proud to host the NW Cup.
Round 5: July 31-Aug. 2, 2015
Round 7 Finals: Sept. 11-13, 2015
www.stevenspass.com
Brandon and his steel beauty, along with Voke Tab president Kalen Caughey, ride the Jackson Creek trail system
in Montana’s Bridger Mountains circa 2007.
surfing turned into a real mattress and rental agreement. It
only took a few beers with the locals and even fewer rides
on the area’s trails to know this was home for Freehub, the
Blizzard and me.
The years whizzed by like passing trees, as did the different
styles and genres of bikes. My steel beauty would meet her
match here, on the roots and hucks-to-flat of the Northwest,
and I would end up spending most my time on my “bigger”
bikes. I still hammered the Blizzard on bi-weekly all-mountain rides, and it soon became a 140mm-travel single speed
to combat the nasty, rainy PNW winters. Then came the
carbon trail bike, and as the years went by I pulled all the
components off the Blizzard to build bikes to get my friends
riding. The naked frame was eventually hung on the wall,
next to a rotating cast of spare wheels.
Sometimes, however, during the midst of deadlines or when
I get particularly nostalgic, I’ll take the Blizzard down and
relive that wandering path. Because while I may find myself
more often than not in the cockpit of some flashy carbon
rig, a 29” or 27.5” or fat bike or whatever the newest trend
might be, I know the Blizzard is just waiting on a few components to mash the hell out of the nearest trail. It’s biking
in its most timeless form, just like the timeless content we
constantly strive for at Freehub. Simply put, that 20th Anniversary Rocky Mountain is the embodiment of my love for
mountain biking, and why I started down this crazy road in
the first place.
It has been a decade since I first built the Blizzard, and
now it hangs in our office waiting for another chance to be
built up and ridden. As we come into our fifth year in print,
we pay homage to the bike that re-kindled my love of two
wheels and inspired the inception of Freehub Magazine, the
soul of which now flows through the pages of every issue.
Cheers to my steel beauty, and may there be many more
adventures to come.
Tread among
the gravity-fed,
join the
bike-minded.
CHASING
DRAGONS
FIGHTING AND FINDING PEACE WITH TIM HAREN
Words: Kristian Jackson | Photos: TJ Kearns
On a frosty trailhead in the mountains of western
North Carolina, I watch as Tim Haren’s decade-old
grey Ford Ranger crunches to a stop. I’m at Rocky
Knob bike park, one of the state’s newest riding
zones, and I’ve been linked up with Haren by some
mutual friends. He has a reputation for a shredready attitude, a great riding partner if you’re ready
to keep up with his brutal, on-a-mission pace.
Even knowing his story, I don’t know what to expect as the door opens. The
29-year-old Haren has a much deeper history than the blue puffy and standard-issue buffalo plaid flannel suggests; up to this point, in the only photos
I’ve seen of him he’s bedecked in full desert camo, holding an assault rifle and
heavily saddled with combat armor. His dog Blue follows him out of the truck
as he unloads his bike. I’m mildly surprised. He looks pretty normal.
Just two years before, Haren was a Green Beret, one of the most elite and
toughest groups in the US military. He suffered through the infamously masochist Special Forces Qualification course and training. He survived combat
in the desert against Al Qaeda insurgents. He was awarded the Bronze Star
for Valor for driving into a firefight to save his brothers in arms.
It’s hero material, the kinds of exploits that set someone apart but also exact a steep price. Like many veterans returning from war, in the years since
his service Haren has been hounded by the nightmares and flashbacks of
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). It’s a constant battle, less tangible
than enemy fire but just as real.
North Carolina’s Pisgah National Forest undisputedly
beautiful, and its solitude has provided some peace
for troubled minds for over a century. For Tim Haren,
the endless mountain bike trails don’t hurt either.
35
And that’s where his bike comes in. When you’ve experienced all that Haren has, a ride in the woods isn’t a mission. It’s therapy, community and
perhaps a little bit of salvation.
During Tim’s deployment in 2007, it was important for the team to
establish trust with the local population, necessary when trying to
create stability in a community. A big part of that was the Medical
Civil Affairs Project, where Tim and his team worked to provide
basic medical care, food and water to civilians.
Though combat would obviously shape Haren’s life most
profoundly, bikes would influence his life much earlier. Haren got his first bike when he was 7 years old, a rigid red
Huffy. Cruising the quintessential Middle-American streets
of Troy, OH, he and the other neighborhood kids spent
their afternoons jumping over trashcans, hucking curbs,
and reveling in the two-wheeled freedom the Huffy provided. Riding took up most of Haren’s free time, and when
he got a BMX bike at age 13 he upgraded from building
mini-booters out of scrap lumber to shaping dirt jump trails
in the areas around his home. When they weren’t digging,
his crew would sneak away to nearby Dayton to ride urban
features or the multiple skateparks.
They say a dog is a man’s best friend, but
often times they are much more than that.
Tim and his dog Blue do some trail bonding
during a ride in Pisgah National Forest.
The passion for riding continued into high school when Haren picked up an iconic Trek Y3 (better for stomping flat
landings) but petered out from there. Graduation found him
with little motivation or direction, and so when he saw a
neighbor return from Basic Training—it was 2003 and the
United States was hot into the “War on Terror”—the possibility of military service provided an intriguing option. “I
saw these soldiers in the news with full beards, baseball hats
turned backwards and riding around on Toyota HiLuxes in
the desert,” says Haren, “and I guess I got some romantic
notion of being one of those guys.”
Upon enlisting Haren quickly found himself selected as a
Special Forces candidates—a trick, some peers told him,
as the rigors of the five-year program sent most candidates
back to the infantry. For Haren, however, that “trick” became the defining point of his life. Haren didn’t simply get
into Special Forces—he excelled, so much so that after initial training he was selected to be a medical specialist. Once
again he was told he would probably fail, and once again
he thrived, tackling the academic challenges of the position
with skill and tenacity that surprised even himself. “Holy
shit,” he remembers thinking. “I can apply myself.”
Haren went on to complete one of the most demanding
qualification courses in the Army. He had become the badass soldier he had seen in the commercials, and after earning the Green Beret, Haren found himself on the elite 10th
Special Forces Group A Team, about to ship out to eastern
Iraq. “We were a tight-knit team at this point,” he says. “We
had been living and training together for a long time. We
knew we had each other’s backs.”
In June of 2007, the 10-man team was deployed to the northern Diyala Province, near the border with Iran, with the mission of occupying an area no US forces had stepped foot in
for two years. They were to train Iraqi Special Forces, hold
meetings with tribal leaders, help with civic and economic infrastructure—in short, prevent an area the size of New Jersey
from falling into chaos. There was one road in and one road
out, and soon Haren’s Humvee was rolling down that single
lane. “On our first day there,” he says, “we got blown up.”
The blast, which ejected everyone from their Humvees and
injured three soldiers, was caused by an IED, or improvised
explosive device, and served as the team’s wake up call to
war. From then on their enemy seemed ever present, and
the team was largely left on their own to cobble together a
safe house. Rob Pirelli, the team engineer, relentlessly built
the ramshackle sandbags and concrete walls into a livable
outpost, complete with electricity, TV and internet.
Haren and his fellow Berets would spend the next nine
months in the region, working to train local forces and bring
some semblance of stability to the area, all while chasing an
especially mean Al Qaeda dragon. Tragedy, however, would
strike six months in, during a routine patrol. The team unknowingly drove through what turned out to be an Al Qaeda stronghold, and when AK 47 rounds hammered down
on the Humvees one ricocheted off a vehicle and pierced
Pirelli’s Kevlar helmet. Haren rushed to treat his buddy, but
nothing could be done to save Rob. He was 29.
Haren wouldn’t leave the Diyala Province for another three
months after that fatal patrol, and upon returning to the
states he spent his final Army years in Colorado teaching advanced mountaineering. While he wasn’t aware of it at the
time, Haren now admits that towards the end of his service
he was having difficulty connecting with others, something
he had never experienced before. Self-admittedly stubborn,
he chose to live through the struggle rather than address it—
that is, until a soldier friend of Haren’s committed suicide in
front of another friend, who decided to go to therapy. Haren
fought the social stigma and went in too. “To be 100-percent
honest,” Haren says, “I didn’t think I had PTSD.”
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is a mental health condition
caused by a distressing event or situation, and symptoms
can include recurring and unwanted memories, flashbacks
of the traumatic event, emotional distress, anxiety, a sense
of disconnectedness and a desire to avoid people and things
that used to provide enjoyment or pleasure. According to
the Department of Veteran’s Affairs (VA), during a given
year as many as 20 percent of those who served in the most
recent wars in Iraq and Afghanistan suffer from PTSD.
As singularly traumatic as Pirelli’s death may have been,
Haren feels the disorder is caused by more of a general
shift than a jarring moment. “I don’t believe PTSD to be
one event,” he says. “It’s a mindset that is created through
training and deployment, compounded by experiences
overseas. It’s about becoming stoic to the point that you
do what you are trained to do without thinking about the
reality; about seeing what you see without it affecting you.
It becomes an exoskeleton.”
Tim and Blue mid-ride. North Carolina can have
some cold winter temperatures—a different challenge
than the deserts of the Middle East, but a little frost
ain’t a reason to put the bike away.
School and riding provide the same structure and direction
that Tim became accustomed to in the military. Now
studying exercise physiology, Tim hopes that after his
undergraduate degree he can enroll in East Tennessee
State University’s Doctor of Physical Therapy program.
Such a protective shell is ideal for carrying out combat missions, but it can also close off the ability to express and receive
the emotions that make a caring, empathetic human. Because
of this, the military has introduced a variety of treatments for
soldiers grappling with the disorder, and upon his return to the
States Haren attended numerous such programs, both group
and individual therapy as well as meditation. He developed a
passion for the mountains, backcountry skiing, teaching avalanche courses and mountaineering. When he left the service
in 2013, he was in a good space. “My treatment had helped
me reprogram myself,” he says. “It helped me take off that exoskeleton and recover what it means to be a normal human.”
A proper manual is a mastery of balance,
something that—thanks to mountain biking and
his move to Asheville—Tim has achieved both
on his bike and life in general.
However, despite the VA being required to provide post-service
support for veterans, when Haren left the military he found
such PTSD therapy almost impossible to access. It wasn’t just
official recovery programs, either: outside the military community, the intensity of being part of a top-level combat team
vaporized, as did the presence of others who could identify
with such an experience. Haren found himself struggling to
relate with those around him. “I had this inner battle with my
service,” he says. “I didn’t know what to say to people about
what I’d been doing for the last 10 years. I didn’t feel like I fit
in with ‘normal’ people. I have come to learn these irrational
thoughts and insecurities are all are part of PTSD.”
Haren initially attempted to move back to Ohio, but after
a month in his hometown he knew he had to move on. He
needed someplace that could provide him with some purpose. That place, he decided, was Asheville, NC, and in August of 2014 he packed up and headed southeast.
When searching for a home in the mountains, on paper
Asheville may not seem the most likely of candidates, especially for someone used to the Colorado Rockies. Thanks to
a visit to the town during his early training days at nearby
Fort Bragg, Haren knew better. Due to its location in the
Blue Ridge Mountains, the town has drawn people for over
a century looking to experience its clean air, massive hardwood and coniferous forests, and enjoy the tallest peaks in
the Appalachians. This includes Mount Mitchell, 30 miles
northeast of Asheville, which at 6,684 feet is the highest
point east of the Mississippi in the US. Whether the mountain air actually does help cure tuberculosis or not, Asheville
has become the unofficial capital of the southern Appalachians. Add in the chance to work towards his doctorate in
physical therapy at the University of North Carolina, and
Asheville had been on Haren’s radar for a while.
Unlike his hometown, here Haren could reinvent
himself on his own terms, and considering the
city’s thriving bike culture it seemed inevitable his
new lifestyle would revolve around two wheels.
Asheville, population some 88,000, is home to
18 micro-breweries, as well as numerous bicycle shops and component manufacturers. The
different dirt jump parks and maintained trails
throughout town are peopled with everyone from
mini shredder kids to seasoned professional riders. He snatched up a Cannondale Trigger, and
one of his first rides found him spinning laps on
the local post-work trails of Bent Creek. At a
junction he met Michael “Hak” Hakala, and the
two spent the rest of the day riding together.
Hak was also a recent transplant to Asheville,
where he moved with the intention of opening a
combination taco truck/bike shop dubbed “The
Tacoed Wheel.” As they pedaled the loops of
Bent Creek, he told Haren about Asheville and
the people he’d met there, and soon Haren was
joining Hak’s circle of friends regularly for rides
around the area.
After just a year in Asheville, Haren found a supportive community, one that focused the discipline
of his Green Beret years into new outlets that
would recalibrate his life. He has a rigorous routine of 6 a.m. gym sessions, neighborhood interval
rides, low heart rate cruises, and weekend Pisgah
missions with his crew. Thanks to the schooling
coverage offered by the GI Bill, he was also able to
Pisgah’s Enchanted Forest is aptly named:
every root, rock or branch is a chance to find
a little magic. Tim gets creative over a fallen
tree on one of the forest’s many trails.
enroll at UNC and move towards his physical therapy degree, something he takes as serious as biking
or physical fitness. “I see studying and training as
my job,” Haren says.
Mountain biking has become more than a hobby
for Haren. Alongside his physical therapy schooling, it’s provided him with a purpose, a sense of
focus and thrill, and place to test his limits he’d
only ever had during his time in the military. His
tools are now just spoke wrenches and pickup
trucks rather than medical supplies and Humvees. The mighty Black Mountain Trail, Farlow
Gap, the never-ending downhill of Heartbreak
Ridge, and the plethora of others around the Pisgah provide a sink for the focus developed over
eight years as an ultra-elite soldiers. For Haren,
though, there isn’t a favorite trail. “I just love the
one I’m on.”
Most recently, Haren had the wild urge to register
for the 2015 Trans-Provence, a vicious, 190-mile
point-to-point race in southern France, featuring
over 32,800 feet of climbing with over 49,200
feet of downhill singletrack. The Trans-Provence
roster attracts many of the sport’s best riders,
but Haren isn’t worried about that. “I know I’m
racing against pros and I’m going to give it all
I have,” he says. “I’m not one to leave anything
on the table, and I see this as a goal I want to
move toward. I see this as a journey to train, to
get strong, get fast, and to have fun.”
The Asheville mountain bike community is a tight-knit
one, and post ride beers are a must. Tim shares a cold
beverage with Justin “Jorts” Edwards at the HUB, one of
nearly 20 breweries in the town.
Haren also plans to compete in the 3rd East Coast Enduro
Series and to finish off the season by testing his mettle at the
Race the World event in Windham, NY. Perhaps more important than the mental and physical challenge, however, is
the human connections mountain biking has built for Haren.
While there may be few bonds tighter than those formed
in combat, bikes make great social nexuses as well, one of
the reasons similar outdoor-based activities have been shown
to work so well at mitigating the effects of PTSD—not just
for the adventure, but for the community experience created
when a small group of people take on a common challenge.
“No one hides any issues,” Haren says of his Pisgah bike
crew, “and we’re all there for each other.”
Boasting the tallest peaks east of the Mississippi, North Carolina
has established itself as the Southeast’s mountain state—meaning
big descents and big lines. Outside of Boone, Tim takes the back
seat on one of Rocky Knob Bike Park’s steeper trails.
The snow is still falling on Rocky Knob’s Boat Rock Trail, as
we crunch and slip our way over frozen dirt and powder-covered roots. We’re in no rush, but Haren’s intensity still surrounds him as we stop for a moment to let Blue catch up.
The body armor has been replaced by POC kneepads, and he
handles his bike with an exacting precision expected from one
of our nation’s most elite soldiers. While we wait I ask Tim
about his combat team, and what it’s like to live and work with
a group of people whose lives depend on each other.
He talks about brotherhood and deep connections that defy
words, and as I listen I realize in some ways he could be describing a group of mountain bikers. I mention this, trying not
to be disrespectful, or worse, diminish his experience. “No, it
is the same, just on a different level,” he says. “But those connections are the same. When we ride we develop that brotherhood, that attitude of, ‘We’ve got each other’s backs.’”
Settling into his new home, Haren has started imagining
what the next decade may bring. “I want to see where my
riding will take me,” he says with a stoic charm. In this journey, Haren looks to pay forward the lessons learned on his
bike and in the classroom. He envisions earning his doctorate in Physical Therapy and establishing a therapy center
that also serves as a training facility for amateur and professional athletes in his community. His friends may not think
so, but he’s not consciously on a mission for podiums or finish lines, just awesome trails to share with good friends, and
the inner peace that provides.
“People know when I haven’t been on my bike,” Haren
says. “But it’s not just the riding. It’s the riders. When I
moved to Asheville and started to meet riders, that’s when
I started to feel at home.”
Quebec sits at the Northeastern tip of North
America, and is naturally divided into three
climates: the humid continental (below the 50th
parallel), the subarctic, and the arctic (above the
58th parallel). The lush deciduous forests are thanks
to the humid continental zone. So is the quality dirt.
cercle complet
INSIDE THE HUB OF QUEBEC’S MOUNTAIN BIKING
Words by Ben Gavelda | Photos by Paris Gore
Rain drools over the road and our tires cut its glazed, black surface. Water droplets splat and bleed along the windshield before they’re quickly sliced away with the
rhythm of the wiper blades. Fog hangs in the canopy of dense evergreen forest in
all directions. Grey, wet, green, like familiar terrain of the Pacific Northwest but on
a highway over 3,000 miles east, lined with signs we cannot decipher. There are no
bikes strapped to our rental car, but we are here to ride them. Or watch them be ridden, or made, or talked about. We are in Quebec and we don’t speak a lick of French.
Publisher Brandon Watts, photographer Paris Gore and
I began our soggy journey in Montreal, and as we head
northeast towards the Saint Lawrence River we pass
through the gray, rigid grids of cities and their suburbs before moving into open, rolling plains. Signs of civilization
soon dissipate and the forest thickens, the hills mounting
as quickly as the storm ahead. The road cuts through the
Réserve faunique des Laurentides, a soggy, verdant stretch of
wilderness encompassing over 3,000 square miles with no
homes and only one gas station along the 120-mile stretch
of road. A few hours later we spill onto the Saguenay River Valley and towards the town of Saguenay’s three boroughs of Jonquière, La Baie and Chicoutimi.
The deluge continues as we unload into our hotel and
adjust to the language and cultural barriers presented by
Canada’s France—or France’s Canada, depending how
you look at it. While we might not comprehend the voices
around us, we understand the language of bikes. In this
quietly influential area in northeast North America it’s a
dialect that is spoken beautifully.
47
The Saguenay Valley is defined by water.
The geography itself owes its origins to the Champlain Sea,
a vast inlet of the Atlantic Ocean that, 10,000 years ago,
stretched over Montreal and Quebec City all the way to
Ottawa. Then the waters receded with glaciers advancing
right behind, and over the next few thousand years what
had once been ocean bed was scoured into the lakes, rivers
and massive fjords that cut across the landscape.
Those massive geologic forces are now long absent, but
water continues to shape the Saguenay Valley in completely different yet no less significant ways. Farmers pull from
the lakes and rivers for irrigation, the Saint Lawrence River and deep fjords off the coastline have become major
thoroughfares for international shipping, and grand rivers
generate immense amounts of hydropower.
Combine such readily available power and transportation,
and the logistics for energy intensive products—like aluminum, a key ingredient in bicycle production—materialize.
This is one of the loudest clicks in the pawls of Quebec’s
mountain biking hub: the ability to build a bike via waterpower at a local level. But before these forces were utilized
to fabricate world-class bike frames, there needed to be a
mountain bike culture to support it. Enter Patrice Drouin
and Devinci Cycles—one man and one small company that
have cultivated mountain biking in these sodden hills and
shaped the very direction of the pursuit around the world.
Wise and spry, Patrice Drouin is every as bit fired
up about riding as he was when he brought the first
mountain bike to Quebec nearly 30 years ago. At
the 2014 Mont Saint-Anne World Cup he continued
his knack for race organization, something he’s been
doing for nearly as long as he’s had a bike.
Photo: Ben Gavelda
“It was fun selling bikes, but nobody
knew where to go...I thought, ‘Everybody
will sell bikes one day, but we need to
have trail networks and infrastructure
established for the sport.’”
Le Parrain (The Godfather)
Patrice Drouin was born in Quebec and spent his teenage years road cycling,
but it wasn’t until he made the common Quebecoise pilgrimage to Whistler,
BC in the late 1970s that he discovered mountain biking. Drouin spent the
winters coaching skiing and the summers windsurfing, until a chance meeting
drove his passions in a different direction. “I was in the Whistler Village and
saw a guy on a bike with flat handlebars and big tires cruising around,” he
says. “I just went straight to him, stopped him and asked, ‘What is this? Can I
try?’ Then I asked him where he got it.”
His answer was Vancouver’s Robson Cycles, one of the only shops in the area
with this new breed of bikes at the time. “I went down and met a bunch of guys
there,” he says. “Keith Whittaker, Jacob Heilbron and a couple of the guys from
Rocky Mountain Bikes. At the time it was mainly just an importing business,
bringing bicycles into Vancouver and copying Tom Ritchey’s bike. Then I started riding with these guys around Vancouver on the weekends.”
A few years later Drouin moved back to Quebec with his new wheeled creation
in tow, literally bringing the first mountain bike to the province. “I checked to
see if anyone was doing something like this back home,” he says. “I checked in
the shops in Quebec City and Montreal and no one even knew about it, so I
started a shop in downtown Quebec City doing custom mountain bikes.”
Patrice’s store, Vélo Caméléon, was one of the first mountain bike-only shops east
of the Mississippi. “I had a direct link with Tom Ritchey and Gary Fisher—the
originals—and their shops in the San Francisco Bay Area,” says Patrice, “and was
ordering parts from them and setting up bikes for people here in Quebec.”
But a shop that sells mountain bikes is nothing without the trails upon which to
ride them, a reality Drouin and many others were learning.
“It was fun selling bikes, but nobody knew where to go,” he says. “There were
no trails, no events, no races. I thought, ‘Everybody will sell bikes one day, but
we need to have trail networks and infrastructure established for the sport.’ So I
started organizing local races and events in ’83 to make that happen.”
With the help of Glenn Odell and NORBA, Drouin created the Quebec Mountain Biking Association (AQVM). This passion to promote riding in his home
area soon bled into the larger mountain bike scene as he began working mountain biking into the Quebec Cycling Federation, the Canadian Cycling Federation, International Amateur Cycling Federation (FIAC) and the International
The hills surrounding Quebec City, most notably Mont Saint-Anne, became home to a revolutionary style of trail in 1995, when Drouin built
the World Cup course directly fall-line down the ski area’s summertime landscape. The result? More speed, bigger airs and tougher bikes.
Professional Cycling Federation (FICP)—branches of the
pre-Union Cycliste Internationale (UCI) at the time. Within
a matter of years the efforts of Drouin and cohorts helped
form the governing body and rulebook on international
mountain bike racing as we know it today.
“We used the Canadian and American mountain bike racing rules we’d developed to create the first set of rules for
UCI,” he says. “Then we started to develop the concept
of World Cups, asking questions like: ‘What would be the
World Cup for mountain biking? Which country? Which
disciplines? How do we calculate the points?’ We developed
that and implemented it in the first championships in Durango, CO in 1990. Officially, it was our work that made
that happen.”
While it was a huge success to usher mountain biking to a
global competitive level, there was more to be done. “After
that first World Championship we were sitting around the
table and I was like, ‘I’ll do one in Canada, and told the
guys from the States, France and Italy to have their own as
well. There was one in Belgium, and basically from there we
established the eight to nine stages.”
Even though the first Worlds was in Durango, Drouin is
most proud of the Mont Sainte-Anne World Cup—the longest running mountain bike UCI location, now going on
25 years. It’s the venue that has reshaped the course (literally) of mountain bike racing, as well as the physical shape
of mountain bikes. The early years of mountain bike rid-
ing and racing were bound to fire roads, grassy slopes and
bland, flat trails—something Drouin and crew sought to alter at Mont Sainte-Anne.
“We decided to challenge downhill riding and made the
course straight fall-line in 1995,” he says. “France had started implementing some hardcore courses, but we created
one that was impossible to ride without full suspension and
hydraulic brakes. We were provoking the industry rather
than following it.
“By implementing that course, bike manufacturers came
out testing and working on bikes, and breaking them. I remember Nico Vouilloz doing laps at Mont Sainte-Anne with
sensors and antennae all over his bike, to monitor all the
forces and torsion on the frame. That was a period where a
lot of research and development was happening, and bikes
were changing completely, from a bike riding downhill to a
truly downhill-specific bike.”
Drouin’s passion for mountain biking and events is as ripe
today as it was 20 years ago, and his involvement continues through his media and events company Gestev, which
he founded in 1992. Gestev continues to produce the Mont
Sainte-Anne World Cup and has become renowned for organizing everything from World Cup mountain bike races to
events like the Red Bull Crashed Ice and professional skiing
and snowboarding contests. And come the end of July you
can still find Drouin at Mont Sainte-Anne, cheering racers
along a course he started two-and-a-half decades before.
Suck it up or let it fly? That was the tough decision
that chewed up a lot of riders on the final rock
garden of the 2014 Mont Saint-Anne World Cup
Downhill track. Gee Atherton finds the latter to be
the smoother—if higher consequence—option.
Photo: Ben Gavelda
Almost every size and shape of aluminum tubing
waits to be welded into a two-wheel masterpiece at
the Devinci factory in Chicoutimi, Quebec. Shipped
from Brazil, the bauxite ore is turned into aluminum
nearby, with locally generated hydropower.
Hand built by bikers, for bikers—every part of every Devinci frame is milled to specification and quality-tested. Felix Gauthier’s early-career
crash due to a failed frame was the influencing factor for new safety specs when he joined the company in 1990. Photo: Brian Hodes
Heavy Rotation
As Patrice brought a movement to mountain bike racing, bike
development was happening locally as well. Inspired by the
rich cycling scene in the area, two Université du Québec à
Chicoutimi students, Guy Ouellet and Daniel Maltais, began
building bike frames. Seeing the demand and potential in their
scholarly projects, the duo started Da Vinci Bikes in 1987,
named after the Italian inventor. In a completely unrelated
event shortly after, Felix Gauthier, a young cyclist from the
area, suffered a serious crash due to a failed frame. The action
sent him to the hospital with a broken fibula and spurred the
desire to create safer, stronger bikes. Shortly after, Gauthier
met the Da Vinci founders, and by 1990 had purchased half
of the company. In a show of Quebecoise solidarity, he gave it
a French tweak by swapping the “a” for an “e”.
Discretely placed next to the bottom bracket, the
“Made in Canada” stamp is something that few—if
any—manufacturers are able to put on their frames.
That all of Devinci’s aluminum frames are built within
the province is something that sets the brand apart.
In the following 25 years, Devinci, with Gauthier at the helm,
has taken a creative path from its origins as a startup in a
biking backwoods to a World Cup powerhouse known for its
highly sought after boutique builds. In the early days, when
the costs of heat-treating frames were mounting, Gauthier
and crew built their own oven (the one featured in the film
“Life Cycles”). Completing this process in-house, along with
developing a number of construction innovations and securing multiple third party manufacturing contracts, have kept
Devinci rolling ahead of the herd. They’ve played a key role
in manufacturing bikes for brands like Cervelo, Argonaut
and Sinister in those companies’ early years. They’ve even
created strange custom builds for Cirque du Soleil, and ush-
ered in svelte bike-share models in the metropolises of New
York City, Chicago, Washington DC, Melbourne, London,
Montreal and Toronto.
While a keen business sense, a knack for innovation and community commitment have aided the brand, Devinci’s geographical position is arguably its core strength. Trails stem
from the factory’s back door. Hydroelectric power is abundant
(electricity is often the largest expense in aluminum production). Metallurgy processes and products are easily accessible. It’s become a brand based on a simple, cyclical equation:
boats with bauxite ore from Brazil float in. Local hydropower
generates affordable energy for aluminum production. Bikes
are built and ridden right out the back door.
This is a down-home claim rare in the modern world of
overseas bike building, and one that Gauthier has worked
hard to put in place. “Felix’s view is to create quality and
sustainable work for people in the area,” says David Régnier-Bourque, Devinci’s marketing manager. “The bike business is a good business. We all think that biking is going to
grow because it is a sport of the future. It doesn’t take gas to
run and it is pretty clean.
“We also believe it’s important to invest in the community. We
do a lot of trail work in the area, we helped create the DH
trails at Mont Bélu and miles of bike paths, we support local
race series and clubs, and we sponsor the top athletes in our
area. We are invested in everything related to cycling here because we think it’s important to support and grow.”
A young worker rakes fresh curds at La Fromagerie Boivin in La Baie, Quebec while the cheese whey is drained. Caseiculture,
the craft of cheese making, dates back over 5,000 years and plays a significant role in Quebecois culture in the Saguenay
area, which is home to seven large cheese producers. Photo: Ben Gavelda
Under The Quebec Canopy
Back in Chicoutimi the rains postpone our first ride with the
Devinci crew. There are alternatives, however—we’re in the
heart of poutine country and sampling the fresh cheese curds
from the dairy farm is a must, so we tour the local Fromagerie Boivin. It is the freshest cheese any of us have tasted and
gives off a rubbery squeal when chewed. Even better is the
gut-clogging, trucker-style preparation: the curds are dumped
into a bag of potato chips, shaken and shoveled down before
the pile gets too soggy. It’s far more gas-station-esque than
boutique cheese factory, but when in Quebec, do as the Quebecois do. It’s worth the intestinal rumbling.
When the rains cease, we finally take to the seats of our bikes
and begin to explore our surroundings. The Devinci crew
leads us to trails right from the loading docks of their headquarters, past the very dams and power lines that provide the
energy to create the bikes under our butts. We pedal over
bridges and past greenhouses full of veggies kept warm and
watered via hydroelectric byproducts. The trail winds through
wet forests, over twisted roots and rough granite, past bleuets
(blueberries) to vistas overlooking vast stretches of water. On
the rally back we splash through puddles in a tight caravan,
leaving the depressions dry as pairs of wheels roll through.
The crew rides through a heavy industrial zone on
their way to the factory’s backdoor trails. Meanwhile,
the power lines overhead carry electricity back to the
Devinci headquarters, produced by hydroelectric dams
only a short distance away.
Later we arrive at a quaint lift, which accesses the trails of
Mont Bélu in La Baie. The small ski hill faces the Saguenay
River and provides a number of short and potent downhill
trails. A midweek afternoon in this small town countryside is
the perfect place for a demo event—which Devinci is hosting
under a faint spritz of rain. Eager locals lap the downhill trails
while team riders Stevie Smith, Nick Beer, Léandre Bouchard
and Rachel Pageau mix in. We learn the awkward technique
of placing a surface lift tow bar behind the seat post, with one
hand on the pole and one on the bars, to get dragged up the
hill. As the drizzle thickens and night creeps in, locals and
foreigners alike crowd under the demo tent and into the base
area for beers, food and refuge.
Our morning visits to The Passion Café exude a European
feel, complete with awkward ordering via smiles, gestures
and butchered attempts at French. We visit la Petite Maison
Blanche, the only structure that survived the 1996 flood that
tore through Saguenay. It sits alone, anchored to granite bedrock, and is a blunt reminder that restraining water for the
sake of power can be as destructive as it is advantageous.
Over the next few days we visit the surrounding towns
and discover swooping, mosquito-plagued trails in humid
sun-spotted forest, later washing off in the cold, riotous,
amber waters of Lac Saint-Jean. We replenish our energy
Sitting on your bike while a 2x4 hugs your
seatpost isn’t the most comfortable way to
shuttle, but it’s definitely nicer than walking
your downhill bike back to the top. Stevie
Smith takes another ride to the top of Mont
Bélu before the rain sets in.
Stevie Smith shows some mid-air finesse on the trails of Mont
Bélu. The mighty Saguenay River, seen below, is over a mile
wide, and drains into the even larger St. Lawrence estuary,
which reaches over 15 miles across.
The crew sits on the edge of the Lac Saint-Jean, soaking up
as much vitamin D as their pale skin allows. The surplus of
rainy days makes it imperative to take advantage of sunny
weather, even if it’s only 60 degrees.
Jean-Phillippe Tremblay, Devinci’s lead graphic
designer, pummels a root-heavy section on the
technical trails by the brand’s headquarters. The
surrounding foliage is so thick it easily removes one
from the surrounding cityscape and industry.
Industrial zones on the outskirts of Saguenay sit right up against the surrounding foothills, which are laced with an
impressive network of trails. Backdoor riding is a dream for most people. For the Quebecois, it’s just one of the
many things that has helped establish a booming, self-sufficient mountain bike scene.
caches at a comical, carnival-esque “Quebexican” restaurant ringed with old cars and retired amusement rides. After putting down tacos stuffed with a strange sludge from a
crock-pot (and with no hot sauce in sight), we vow to stick
with the more provincial fare. On the outskirts of Saguenay,
atop a mossy granite rock by the roadside, we gain views of
the area’s expanse and sip beers in the late afternoon light
before moving on to our next destination.
bles before diving into humid green forests with snarled roots
and ruts that peel off the mountain. Our sluggish descent is
lethargic compared to the world-class athletes we watch rally
this iconic mountain track, yet in the forest just around the
bend from the race course it’s quiet and reserved from the
hum of the global gathering.
Our journey continues beyond Chicoutimi and takes us
through tangled green forest, past lake after pond after
stream after river, through the Parc national des Grands-Jardins.
The road twists and rolls, with grades climbing into the double digits, the kind that floats and sinks your stomach like
an asphalt amusement park ride. The road crests at a pass,
where large granite nubs break through the forest’s skin like
a miniature Yosemite, before running out onto the pastures
of the Saint Lawrence River Valley and below the iconic
Mont Saint-Anne.
The next day, after navigating the tangled streets of Quebec
City in torrential rain, we make it to Place D’Youville, a square
in the heart of the historic downtown. We’re here for the
City8 session, an invite-only stop on the Freeride Mountain
Bike World Tour. Harbored within the aged fort walls of
Old Quebec City, the horseshoe-shaped slopestyle course is
full of dirt-to-dirt doubles, wood-to-wood drops, berms and
wall rides. The Jumbotron televisions light up the pulse of
tourists and spectators streaming through the square.
The racers’ pit at Mont Saint-Anne is buzzing with the UCI
World Cup, the one Patrice has been running since we were
in kindergarten. The annual gathering has blossomed into
Vélirium, a full-fledged mountain bike festival complete with
all disciplines of mountain biking, including a stop of the
Freeride Mountain Bike World Tour held in downtown Quebec City. As we zip above in a gondola cab, we watch through
the blue, bulging windows as cross-country racers chisel over
rock gardens and downhill riders zip along the notoriously
steep track, lofting step-downs and hips at jaw-rattling speeds.
We take a beating ourselves on the area’s public trails, mashing our bodies and loaned trail bikes through berms and dou-
The hammering rain cuts the contest short, and we find ourselves wandering the cobblestone streets of the city. It’s a far
different (yet similarly soggy) scene from the forested pilgrimage we’ve been on. A blur of languages fill our ears as we meander alleyways and stop to stare out onto the gray bay from
the centuries-old perch of this port town, watching ships drift
by the Saint Lawrence with containers of raw goods. Some of
that will be bauxite destined for aluminum production, and
some of that aluminum will make its way to a small factory,
where Patrice Douin’s knobby-tired dreams will be embodied
in some of the world’s best frames. It’s the continuation of a
truly Quebecois cycle, a cercle complet.
Mike McCormack, also known as Mike Mac, addresses the Breck
Epic race field in Breckenridge, CO, moments before they start
off into a week of shredding and suffering. The Epic has become
hugely popular, and a fixture in the world of stage racing.
Village
It Takes a
Mike McCormack’s Far-Flung
Audacity and Down-Home Immersion
Words and Photos by Devon Balet
61
When Mike McCormack talks, people listen. He doesn’t waste words, a brevity that
only serves to make his gentle-yet-friendly voice more effective. It’s a useful trait, especially when you’re addressing a mayor, city council or a few thousand mountain
bikers at the start line of one of the world’s toughest competitions.
Founder of Colorado’s Breck Epic stage race, McCormack’s
usual business attire of shorts, tilted cowboy hat, flip flops
and ready smile belie exactly how busy his schedule is. McCormack has become a renowned behind-the-scenes figure
in the Rocky Mountain bike scene, putting it on the international map of ultra-endurance racing and helping shape
riding in the area on a day-to-day level in every community
in which he’s lived. As McCormack has proven, sometimes
the shortest sentences can have the deepest tread.
The first time McCormack ever pooped outside was during
his first job as a corn de-tassler in middle school. It was a
mortifying experience and terrible work, and his mom let him
It wouldn’t be the Breck “Epic” if it wasn’t epic hard. Several
race fans post up at the top of French Pass to cheer on racers
and hand out Skittles. The candy has become a yearly tradition
on the Pass, as well as handing out freshly cooked bacon on
the top of the nearby 12,400-foot Wheeler Pass.
Rule #1 of the Breck Epic is “Don’t be a dick,” one
that applies to the staff as well as the competitors.
One of McCormack’s major focuses in running the
Epic is customer satisfaction, and if racers have any
problems he does his best to solve them because “It’s
the right thing to do.” Photo: Eddie Clark
quit after four days. But there are few things that teach a good
work ethic better than being miserable, and it wasn’t enough
to drive him away from his hometown of Madison, WI—at
least not immediately.
of events. Those two groups, while operating at extreme ends
of the snow sports spectrum, are truly best-in-class examples
of how to produce large events with multiple stakeholders,
and produce them well.”
McCormack attended college in Madison, first for a degree
at the University of Wisconsin-Madison and then a culinary
degree at a local tech college (or “more a program that taught
you how not to poison the elderly in an institutional setting,”
as McCormack puts it). With corn farming out of the question, he got a job at Madison-based Trek Bicycle, first as a rep
for Bontrager and Klein in Berkley, CA before moving to Waterloo, WI to take the role of marketing and brand manager
for the same labels. It was a position that didn’t suit him, and
“after wearing the hell out of his welcome at Trek” McCormack decided to head west once more, this time permanently.
His chance to apply that knowledge to the cycling world
wouldn’t begin until he met Jeff Westcott. Westcott first moved
to Colorado for the winter of 1984 from his native Massachusetts, and when he and McCormack were introduced in the
summer of 1999 he was organizing ski events for the Team
Breckenridge Sports Club. He was also talking to Greg Guras,
the owner of Breckenridge’s “A Racer’s Edge” ski shop, who
had been running a weeknight MTB series called the Summit
Mountain Challenge (SMC) for over a decade.
He moved to Breckenridge in the spring of 1999, where he
made use of his culinary degree as a cook at a high end tapas
restaurant in the small town. The job was a much needed
mental detox from the cycling world. It also unknowingly set
him up for an unofficial education in his future career.
Guras was getting burnt out on the sizeable amount of necessary logistics, and as the three continued to talk, Westcott and
McCormack became increasingly keen to be involved. They
jumped in, and it didn’t take long for the duo’s ambitions to
extend past the SMC. In the summer of 2001 the two started
Maverick Sports Promotions (MavSports), an event organizing company.
“Somewhere in the middle of all of the bike stuff I pulled
a long stint running Breckenridge Ski Resort’s Competition
Department, and from there joined the marketing staff at Beaver Creek,” he says. “It was these last two stops that really
helped form my understanding of the true economic impact
“I consider Jeff to be my first wife,” says McCormack. “Our
partnership was born, and with it came a revitalized SMC,
the Firecracker 50 and Fall Classic, a standalone trail-building
division, and MTB Junior League, an environmental stewardship-based kids program.”
During its lifetime The Mountain States Cup
became a staple for bike racing in the Rocky
Mountain region. Angel Fire Resort, NM was
one of the flagship stops, hosting national title
races in dual slalom and downhill.
The Fall Classic, which MavSports runs, began the same year
Westcott moved to Colorado and is now one of the oldest
mountain bike races in the world. The Firecracker 50, started
in 2001 by McCormack and Westcott, is a 50-mile race held
on July 4th. Both events are huge successes, having become
staples in the mountain bike racing world and drawing large
numbers of racers and spectators to the Breckenridge area.
At this same time, McCormack had met Chris Conroy, president of Yeti Cycles, through Conroy’s support of MTB Junior League. In 2005, Conroy and Yeti Vice President Steve
“Hoog” Hoogendoorn were in negotiations to take over
operation of the late Mountain States Cup, a popular race
series spanning the hotspots of the Rockies. They needed
someone on the ground, and McCormack had impressed.
“We talked for several months about the possibility of me
getting involved with the MSC,” McCormack says. “One
thing led to another, and I ended up working as the race director of the MSC and G3 Gravity Series for three seasons,
from 2006 until 2008.”
The MSC ended in 2013 and the G3 Gravity Series in 2008,
but by the time he left McCormack’s resume was a hefty
one. That same year he was able to move on to an idea of
his own: a stage race similar in scale to Europe’s Transalp or
British Columbia’s TransRockies, but with each leg starting
and finishing from the same location. And what better place
to start than home?
Misery loves company—perhaps that’s the reason, despite
being some of the most brutal forms of mountain bike
events, ultra-endurance stage races are more popular than
ever. While this can be seen in the success of newer venues
such as the BC Bike Race, it was something McCormack
experienced personally 15 years ago.
“I remember reading a story Mike Ferrentino wrote for
BIKE Magazine in the late 90s,” McCormack says. “He’d
ruptured his Achilles tendon during a long power line hiking section in Canada’s TransRockies. At the time, I was
inspired by the audacity of such a far-flung event. The
Firecracker 50’s popularity really validated the market for
something like that.”
In stage races, “far-flung” doesn’t necessarily have to mean
far from home. Breckenridge sits at the center of a truly
massive trail network in Summit and Park counties, one that
covers a vast spectrum of the terrain the area has to offer.
The beauty of beginning and ending each stage in town is
If you aren’t hiking, you aren’t mountain
biking—at least that’s how it can feel during
sections of the Breck Epic. Little French Pass
is a particularly brutal climb, often forcing
riders onto their feet to reach the top.
In 2013, the Breck Epic turned into a battle
between three beasts: Ben Sonntag, Todd Wells
and Alex Grant. Little French Pass offers stunning
scenery, but with how hard the trio were working
they had no time to enjoy the view.
The final stage of the Breck Epic is also
one of the area’s classics: Gold Dust Trail.
After a week of arduous racing, as racers
finish the top of Bories Pass turns into an
all-out party. Trust us—they deserve it.
that it eliminates transfers, offers more lodging and eating
options, and simplifies logistics for competitors in general.
It’s another piece of wisdom McCormack has pulled from
the Firecracker 50: the tenet “You bring your bike. Let us
worry about everything else.”
This focused user-friendliness is an important thing—participating in any ultra-endurance event requires a big commitment, financially and time-wise, beyond the suffering of
the actual race. For the Breck Epic, McCormack tries to
handle such worries and issues before they arise, from aid
stations mid-course to pre-race refunds up to 60 days out
and no-penalty deferrals after that.
“When there is a problem, we listen,” McCormack says. “If
we can fix it, we will. If we can’t, we explain why. Our riders get treated like family, even if life throws them a curveball and they need to back out of the race. Why? Because
there are a lot of financially solvent races that could afford
to adopt the same stance and don’t. But mostly, it’s because
it’s the right thing to do.”
McCormack is quick to give credit to the many hands involved, the dedication and excellence of folks like Westcott
and Chris Cawley, both of whom have been involved from
the beginning. This includes the course markers, aid station
workers and the many others necessary to create such an incredible experience for riders. It also translates into an incred-
ibly popular race. Despite doing zero international advertising, the 2014 event hosted racers from 20 countries and 40
states. The Epic has also transformed many trails from local
gems to international legends, stages like Wheeler, Guyot, the
Colorado Trail and Gold Dust, to name a few. Because when
it comes down to it, a race is only as good as its riding, and
the Breck Epic can claim some of the best riding in the world.
The event McCormack is most vested in, however, is his
family, which he refers to as “our little giggling, belching
and tooting sausage party.” His wife Emily owns a local PR
company, and his two sons, 8-year-old Jacob and 6-year-old
Tavish—nicknamed MiniMac and Breck Epic Jr., respectively—are both active, energetic and mischievous. McCormack may be able to control a few thousand racers, but he
credits Emily as being the one who keeps them from “all
lighting ourselves on fire.” Emily and Mike bounced from
Breckenridge, Edwards and Carbondale until finally settling
on Eagle three years ago, a small town of 7,000 that offered
ideal year-round weather with gratuitous riding and backcountry skiing opportunities.
Having already solidified the Breck Epic’s vaunted reputation, in Eagle McCormack found a place to employ his talents on a down-home level. The town asked him to consider
helping with the Eagle Outdoor Festival, and over the past
Mike is a well-known dog lover, and for
years Boo McCormack, a massive Alaskan
Malamute, was typically found lounging
around MSC races and the Breck Epic,
patiently allowing any child or adult to
pet him and ogle over his size. Lola is the
newest edition to the McCormack family,
and is no small pup herself.
Breckenridge local Josh Tostado climbs his
way up a section of the Colorado Trail.
Mount Guot looms in the background,
standing witness to the only foul weather
day in the entire history of the Breck Epic.
Mike and his family moved to Eagle, CO three years ago,
after which Mike was asked by the town to help with the
Eagle Outside Festival, a three-day event that has helped
solidify the area as mountain bike destination. One of the
Festival’s highlights is the Firebird 40, an XC race that passes
through Eagle’s idyllic downtown. Courtesy of Eagle.
three years he’s helped develop a plan to cultivate Eagle’s
status as a mountain bike destination. From a business perspective, the Festival makes local cash registers ring. From
a biking perspective, it underscores just how much riding
there is on the public land surrounding the town, an impressive network of trails shred-able year-round.
“The Outdoor Festival is a little bit of everything,” says McCormack. “A free consumer demo, along with a 40-mile XC
course. The BLM just approved our big course this year, so
riders can expect a true back-of-beyond experience, as well
as a tour of some of Eagle’s best and most elusive gems. On
top of that, we have a LoFi Chainless DH, a 10K trail run,
a 5K run/walk and a grip of great food and live music.”
The trails around Eagle include over 13 miles of paved,
in-town paths, and the inspiration for McCormack’s most
recent endeavor came while riding along one of these with
his kids. The entirety of the black-topped trail system is intertwined by short, dirt offshoots, unofficial side routes that
young rippers started riding long ago. Watching his own
kids, McCormack wondered at the possibility of formalizing these deviations to connect different parts of Eagle.
“To me, the best way to immerse yourself in a community
is to add something to it,” McCormack says. “We wanted to
get kids on their bikes before school and help provide them
with five minutes of low-grade, gravity-fed bliss. At the same
time, we wanted to create better soft-surface opportunities
for local riders and runners, and connect the town’s core
with its outlying trailheads and neighborhoods.”
McCormack went to work, bugging every elected official he
knew and getting the blessing of the local trails group, The
Hardscrabble Trails Coalition. The coalition’s president,
Adam Palmer, is also the county planner. He fully jumped
on the idea as well, creating user-friendly maps to present to
the town council.
The two-pronged effort from McCormack and Palmer created a swell of public and civic support, including a solid
“Hell Yeah!” from Mayor Yuri Kostick. Next came permission from some of the area’s main private entities, the Eagle
Ranch Association and Homeowner’s Association, followed
by a unanimous vote of approval from the town council.
The project—dubbed “Singletrack Sidewalks”—was a go,
and the pilot phase went into effect last fall.
It hurts so good. Despite being exhausted,
covered in dirt, and still having another climb
ahead, a racer gives the thumbs up during the
only muddy day in the Breck Epic’s seven years.
Mike calls he and his sons, 8-year-old Jacob
and 6-year-old Tavish (nicknamed MiniMac and
Breck Epic Jr., respectively), “our little giggling,
belching and tooting sausage party.” His wife,
Emily, is the one that keeps the boys in line—
and keeps them from burning down the house.
“The idea was to get the community as a whole heavily involved,” McCormack says. “The program wouldn’t be happening without a heck of a lot of believers: moms, dads,
prominent citizens and merchants, elected officials, school
administrators. While it may have started with one person,
everyone here has linked hands on this, which is a very good
template for getting anything done.”
Even with most community members behind them, McCormack’s work at Eagle hasn’t been free of the usual user
conflicts that plague such land access conversations. With
so many parties involved—and so many false perceptions
between user groups—it’s a difficult problem to solve, but
McCormack feels community-oriented programs like Singletrack Sidewalks strike such issues at the core.
“To my way of thinking,” he says, “one of the best ways to
combat the negative perception of cyclists is to build acceptance at the roots. That means getting kids, and ultimately
their parents involved. By getting them involved in the entire
process, they learn ownership and accountability. The idea is
that the experience of building and maintaining these trails
will provide all involved with a heightened sense of their value and inherent frailty.”
Compared to the scope of the Breck Epic, a small network of
singletrack in a tiny Colorado town may seem a bit trivial, but
it just proves how deep McCormack’s dedication to the sport
runs. Bedecked in his signature 10-gallon hat and beach footwear, he will continue dispensing warm smiles and significant
words to further mountain biking at home and in general.
Because if the Epic is his masterpiece, his work in Eagle may
be his most lasting contribution to the sport.
“This program truly underscores the ‘It takes a village’ mentality,” he says, “and if it’s not too much of a metaphor mix,
a bit of ‘Think globally, act locally’ mindset. At the end of
the day, we want to leave some sort of a legacy for the next
generation. We want them to come back 20 years from now,
point out these trails to their kids and say, ‘I built that!’”
RULESOF
THEROAD
TRAIL TRIPPING THROUGH BRITISH COLUMBIA’S KOOTENAY MOUNTAINS
Words and Photos by Ben Gavelda
The whole affair began at the Flying Steamshovel. One of the oldest saloons
in British Columbia and by far the oldest in Rossland, the name comes from
a steam-powered helicopter plane constructed by Lou Gagnon, an ambitious
Gold Rush-era inventor. Built of iron, wood, brass, canvas and piano wire,
Gagnon imagined the “Flying Steamshovel” would carry ore down from the
steep slopes of nearby Red Mountain. It didn’t. The craft first took flight in
February of 1902, leaving the ground and wobbling a few stories skyward before crashing near the very spot we’re currently putting back burgers and beers.
The crew around the table includes Kelli Sherbinan and
Darren Butler of Endless Biking, Martin Littlejohn of
British Columbia’s Mountain Bike Tourism Association
(MBTA), Natasha and Ian Lockey of Kootenay Mountain Bike Coaching and Mountain Shuttle Rossland,
writer and photographer Danielle Baker, and Big Winner Jason Wright, a lucky Pennsylvanian who won a contest held by the MBTA. We’ve met up to explore and ride
the best of the Kootenays, a large area in southeastern
BC loosely encompassing mountains from the US and
Alberta borders north past Revelstoke and Golden. Tomorrow we head out on the road. Tonight we talk bikes.
While Whistler may be the Golden Boy of the Canadian mountain bike scene, Rossland is technically it’s
center. It was awarded the title of the Mountain Bike
Capital of Canada back in 1993 for the extensive network of trails encircling the town, and in more recent
years has gained international notoriety for the Seven
Summits Trail, an IMBA epic. But there’s far more to
The Golden City’s riding than this septuplet or the 20plus year-old designation, and Ian and Natasha make
sure to show us.
After the Steamshovel we head off to the Red Shutter
Inn, a cozy cabin our guides Ian and Natasha have managed for over 10 years, and drift off into anxious dreams
of what may come in the days and miles ahead. This
brings us to Rule of the Road Number One: Trust the
locals, whether it’s for food, beds or trail. Being wary of
homemade aircrafts is a given.
After grabbing coffee and frittatas at Alpine Grind the
next morning, we load up for a short drive to some
newer trails, built in 2011, just past Red Mountain Resort. Given the northern climate and thick pine trees,
mistaking the terrain for a more coastal zone is understandable—it is damp, loamy and rooty, broken by brief
vistas of fog-soaked forest and the town of Trail below.
Miles of trail and pavement behind, early morning
alpenglow ahead. The Lizard Range provides a
stunning backdrop as the crew rolls into Fernie.
75
Ian and Natasha Lockey hail from the North Shore of New Zealand, but have made Rossland home. Between the bike guiding and
coaching, lodge management, and shuttle business, they remain rooted in the community regardless of their origins being an ocean away.
The shuttle is easy, and we spin lap after lap on the flowing
web of dirt and duff. On our last run we cross paths with a
group of ladies, one of whom turns out to be Sue McBride,
the past Big Winner of a similar contest put on by MBTA.
She was living in California’s Bay Area when she won, but
became so enamored with Rossland’s riding she straight-up
moved there after her trip.
After a short break we re-enter the forest to find Bob Marley’s Stash and a technical descent on Super Megadeth (or
Mega Awesome, depending on which final spur you take).
Along these once-rogue trails we roll over cragged rocky
sections, wind around old open mineshafts, navigate wood
ladders, lean through tight berms and loft a drop next to a
dead deer carcass, finally coming to a stop right near the
US/Canadian border. It’s the type of ride that gives credence to Rossland’s 1993 title.
Our hosts’ resume is equally impressive. Aside from managing the Red Shutter Inn and running the shuttle, Natasha
is a guide at the nearby Big Red Cats catskiing operation
and Ian is a Paralympic-level boardercross racer and snowboard and mountain bike coach. Ian was paralyzed when
he crashed snowboarding in New Zealand years ago, but
now—despite a lilting stride and a shriveled calf—once he
gets on his bike it’s like his nerves are revived. He pedals
with his heels and has complete control at the bars. This
brings up Rule Number Two: Pass cars, not judgment.
Existentially content but physically drained, we roam the
aisles of the local grocery store and stuff our stomachs and
coolers for the miles of dirt and asphalt ahead. Tonight
we’re headed to Kimberly, 165 miles east, and as is usually the case with road trips we’re quickly forced to leave
behind our normal eating habits. Couple that with odd
grazing hours and odder Canadian snack food, and your
internal plumbing may not be functioning at its optimum.
So as we tear off into the night towards Kimberly, it quickly leads us to Rule Number Three: Roll down the window
when you fart.
We wake to crystal skies, deer roaming the hotel grounds
and a hearty breakfast of eggs, hash browns, bacon and
toast at BJ’s Restaurant & Creekside Pub. Our guides for
the day are locals Becky Bates and Ian Binnie, and we start
pedaling directly from downtown, meandering into the dry,
open stands of lodgepole pine, past Nordic ski routes, and
along mossy north faces as we move deeper into the forest.
The benched trail cuts through fields of red and lavender
stained talus, and spins past Dipper Lake, an enticing name
during a hot summer day. We top out on a rock slab with an
expansive westward view of the peaks separating Kimberly
from the 65-mile-long Kootenay Lake.
Our fearless group leader Martin Littlejohn works through the Rossland
forest with smooth, lanky-guy style. Martin has a lengthy professional
background in the travel and tourism industry, and over 30 years in
the saddle of a mountain bike—from the birth of the sport in BC to the
North Shore freeride scene, Martin has rode alongside it all. Under the
direction of folks like him, the fate of BC singletrack is in good hands.
Mount Fernie towers above the Elk Valley and Fernie’s downtown, as seen from the top of the lift-accessed trails on a hazy morning.
Riders can either rally laps via Fernie Alpine Resort’s chairlift, or use the bump to connect to local trails and navigate into town.
Kelli Sherbinan navigates a talus field outside
of Kimberley, the result of a landslide. This
brings up a crucial Rule of the BC road: It’s
not all loam and fresh dirt.
From our stony vantage we rally down Thunder Turkey,
Shape Shifter and Hoodoo View, through pale grassland
and second growth forest. It’s a lung-stinging sprint trying
to stay on Ian’s wheels. He and Becky did build a significant amount of this trail and it does happens to end right
at their house, near a campground with a beautiful view
of the rock hoodoos above the tumbling Saint Mary River.
Not bad.
The second ride of the day brings us to a more mysterious
shuttle trail up the valley, called Pinch and Roll. Composed
of faint trail, rock rides, doubles, drops and rickety woodwork, this is the kind of line we’ve been looking for, the
kind you can’t just show up and find on a map. It’s fluffy,
loose, raw and a bit unpredictable—“Full-on Kootenay
style!” as Darren would say.
Toasted from the day’s dual rides, we peel into town for
food and brew at the aptly named Pedal & Tap pub. Although they’re both strikingly modest and humble, I gather that Becky and Ian both work as stunt coordinators for
Hollywood-level movies—productions like X-Men, The
Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus, The A-Team, Fantastic Four,
Night at the Museum and a bevy of other films you’ve likely
heard of and probably seen. Their expertise lies in roping,
climbing, rigging (they are also avid climbers) and various
forms of special effects, and they spend months on set broken by months at home on their bikes. We talk about their
life on the road, past and future destinations, before hitting
on vehicles and campers. Apparently special effects sys-
tems employ a lot of batteries, including 12-volt RV batteries—the kind I’m in need of for my current truck-camper
re-build—and they gift me a spare battery when we leave
to make the late haul east to Fernie. This brings up Rule
Number Four: Souvenirs come in many forms.
For those generous with the Kootenay label, Fernie marks
the area’s eastern edge where the mountains are more arid,
yet still towering and fully exposed from glacial scouring.
The chairs keep spinning through the summer at Fernie Alpine Resort, which offers lift access riding of its grassy runs,
dark and rooty forests, and alpine wildflower fields. Bikers
can even connect to the local trails from the resort, meaning
you can take a chairlift and work your way back into town
from there. That’s our mission the next morning, and given the two-rides-a-day schedule we’ve been mashing on, we
convince the hill to let us up early with a vehicle bump.
We are joined by Fernie biker extraordinaire Scott Fieldhouse
and his wife Jacq. Our guest guide for the day, John Shaw,
shows up with a curious container in the cage of his Specialized: rather than a water bottle, he totes a can of bear
spray. Encounters with grizzlies are not uncommon on the
more remote rides in this area, especially when forest berries
are ripe. We don’t run into any bears, but we do encounter
a smaller denizen of the animal kingdom. A fox, fluffy tail
and all, follows us for the initial descent, and when we stop it
begins bounding around the group with curiosity.
While bear spray is a good idea on the Fernie area’s more remote rides, not all the wildlife is aggressive.
A friendly fox checks out the gang on one of Fernie Alpine Resort’s trails.
It refuses to pose for a few ironic “fox and Fox Shox” photos,
so we continue on into the forest and through fields of headhigh purple wildflowers. We work through deep berms, over
dusty roots and the continuous roll of the dark woods. By the
time we reach groves of salmon berry bushes in the green valley bottom our rotors are broiling, the temperature is rising,
and we are feeling the strain of back-to-back rides.
With the lure of the un-ridden driving us, we continue on a
slog above town before descending a twisting section of dry
singletrack that ends with a table top over an old rusted car.
After a hearty lunch at Freshies Coffee Shop, I fall into an
impromptu nap in the shade of the patio floor, which brings
up Rule Number Five: Sleep when and where you can.
As tired and wrung-out as we are, a heavy dose of caffeine
gets us back out for the second ride of the day. This time
we’re led by Mark Gallup, legendary snowboard photographer and owner of The Guides Hut, who tows us up a string
of trails with names like Uprooted, Roots, Hyper Ventilation, Queen Bee, Eco Terrorist and Sidewinder. It’s a grueling climb, through logged forest and up sharp cutbacks to
the top of a knife ridge above town.
The descent pays off the suffering in full, and we whisk down
an exposed ridge with open views in all directions and clouds
of dust roosting from our tires. Parched and pedal-worn, we
roll back into town for beers, water and salty food—the three
recovery requirements, important since we have four hours
of driving to our next stop. As we load up and head west to-
wards Nelson, this brings up Rule Number Six: Stay hydrated, but keep your pee breaks and gas stops in sync.
Before Vancouver became a bustling seaport metropolis,
Nelson and the surrounding towns were the hubbub of British Columbia. The alignment of water and large mountains
funneled the fur trade, logging and mining through the area,
fanning the explosive growth of industry-town upstarts.
This has drastically faded over the last century, but Nelson
maintains a store of riches: robust mountain town charm,
an abundance of arts, culture, food and a new type of mining. The pickaxes and shovels still swing—these days it’s just
aimed at breaking trail rather than uncovering valuable ore.
In recent years Nelson has become recognized for its raw and
rowdy trails that dive through the area’s rugged terrain. The
going joke in the area is that a downhill bike is a trail bike.
Kidding aside, it’s a legitimate statement.
The loop from Fernie back west to Nelson is the last leg of
our trip. Kelli is from Nelson, and she and Darren are currently building a cabin outside of town, in the thick forests
that harbor an extensive amount of riding. We begin our
ride on a new, sun-exposed network of trails on Morning
Mountain, with Kelli’s childhood friend Deb MacKillop as
guide and impromptu entertainment. The short, wide and
benched climb delivers us to the top of a bike-park-like lap,
where we dip through berms and float over gaps. It’s the
The whole gang—Kelli, Darren, Jason and
Deb—barreling berms on Lefty, one of Nelson’s
newer trails, at the recently developed Morning
Mountain trail area. The town is home to seven
main riding areas, each chock full of classic
Kootenay shredding.
Darren dips into the fresh dirt and shale on the alpine section
of the Peak to Creek trail at Retallack. Lying somewhere
between an alpine pump track, backcountry epic and bike
park, Peak to Creek bends the boundaries of trail design.
Nelson group photo: Jason Wright, Jenna Renwick, Deb MacKillop, Kelli Sherbinan, Ben Gavelda,
Martin Littlejohn and Darren Butler. Photo by Danielle Baker
kind of trail you’re more apt to find at a lift-accessed area
than on a hill behind a small mountain town.
Deb later takes us to the Smallwood and Bigwood zones, fueling the ride with homemade plum fruit leather and hearty
laughs. Atop the climb we take in spanning views of the
Kootenay Lake Valley in the calm, warm light of afternoon.
This is the momentary reprieve before we barrel down the
rowdy route of duff, rock and root-gripped terrain, a mellow between the trail tunnel vision and a relief from our
long hours on the road. We take in the scenery, munch on
fruit leather and dive in.
Venturing outside of Nelson brings us to Retallack, a busted
mining locale turned gravity biker’s dream destination only
a short drive away. Here the trails are steep, long, rugged,
remote and all shuttle-able, and the nearby New Denver area
offers a mix of public trails in addition to Retallack’s private,
purpose built tracks. We down catered food and enjoy van-assisted laps on Retallack’s proprietary trails, and then head
past the ghost town of Sandon to old mining roads and additional riding. Silvery clouds brew across Slocan Lake, which
pummel us with heavy rains on the last stretch of trail.
It’s late in the season, which means alpine berries are prime
along Retallack’s access roads. Darren and Kelli show us the
technique of filling a spare water bottle with huckleberries,
which, when mashed up from riding and paired with some
liquid, deliver a Kootenay style, mid-ride smoothie. Aside
from being gifted with bundles of nature’s candy, Retallack
just put the finishing touches on their most extensive trail to
date: Peak to Creek, a collaboration with Freehub, a hearty
build crew and a cadre of generous sponsors. And we’re one
of the first groups to point our tires down its path.
After a technical truck shuttle involving a three-point
switchback on an exposed jeep path, we begin the hike-abike to the Peak to Creek’s start at the summit of Mount
Reco. It’s a test on our tired bodies, but clear skies at the top
are a worthy reward. The Kokanee Glacier lies off in the
distance, and the scaled peaks of Whitewater Mountain and
Mt. Brenan stand to our backs. The trail itself runs through
a gamut of terrain and styles: a top-of-the-world feel at the
shale-scattered start, to the benched alpine tundra, to the
backbone ridge section, to the dim forest valley. There’s a
spongy, springy flow for the entirety of the descent. It’s hard
to keep the rubber of our tires on the ground as countless
undulations pass under our wheels, lofting bike and body
through the mountains.
After twisting through wet cedar forest and pure Kootenay
loam we find ourselves in the lodge parking lot, speckled in
dirt, spruce tips and twigs, cold beers in hand and grins all
around. Dazed from the nine-mile, 6,000-foot descent, we
stare past the evergreen tips of the forest and into the grey
sky above, reveling in this shared experience.
It is a worthy end, but an end nonetheless. Now that we have
found our rhythm on the road and the reward of each day’s
venture, it is painful to retreat. Monday we’ll return to desks
and deadlines, and we are tempted to continue the gamble
of new towns, new trails and new folk. We’ve come to our
final Rule of the Road: You can pull over or put it in reverse,
but what’s in the rearview mirror is gone and past. All that
matters is the road ahead, wherever it may lead.
TUNNEL
VISION
“Some of the stuff I’ve skied has made
me wonder, ‘Is that ride-able on a bike?
Can we do that?’”
thought it was so cool. From that point on I just really wanted
to chase bike photography, and really do something with it.”
Hucks and Hike-A-Bikes with
Photographer Steve Lloyd
When Lloyd was caught in an avalanche in the Wasatch
November of 2006, it gave him even more motivation to
focus increasingly on dirt. Lloyd was buried for a full 15
minutes and lost consciousness. Already a very experienced
backcountry skier, his respect for the mountains only grew
after the incident.
Words by Sakeus Bankson
“Since then I’ve still chased skiing as much or more as before, but it’s always been that thing on your shoulder,” he
says. “It’s just something that’s really stressful to always be
worrying about.”
It took Steve Lloyd 21 years to realize how bad he was blowing it.
Despite being born and raised in Salt Lake City, UT and having spent his entire
youth exploring the nearby Wasatch Range, the iconic ski photographer didn’t even
start skiing or shooting until he was in college. A 21-year-old art major at Salt Lake
City Community College, he signed up for a photography class with the idea of bettering his painting. The result was an epiphany.
85
“I had some friends who were into skiing, and I asked if I
could come take pictures of them jumping off things,” he
says. “Suddenly I was seeing all this cool stuff people were
doing around here and thought, ‘Oh man, I need to get out
there!’ So I decided I was going to. I‘ve put in quite a few
days biking and skiing since, so I feel like I’ve caught up.”
It doesn’t come as a surprise, then, to hear he didn’t start biking until eight or nine years ago, when he bought a Yeti ASX
at the urging of some friends, or that his stunning abilities to
shoot biking only developed within the past half-decade. In
fact, inspiration to even start shooting mountain biking professionally at all took a brutal, high-consequence crash.
He abandoned art, took up skiing and photography fulltime, and the rest—well, look at any of his photos and it’s
obvious he not only caught up, but that he’s become one of
the best in the business. Over the past 15-plus years he’s won
numerous awards and his imagery has graced covers and
pages of all the major snow publications.
“I ended up buying my first freeride bike and I had a couple
friends who were into jumps and drops,” Lloyd says. “That’s
what I wanted to do, and so I started trying to be some cool
freerider guy, and ended up severely breaking my shoulder.
While I was healing after surgery I started watching all these
bike videos. The Collective’s Roam had just come out, and I
Even with his crash, biking provided a realm free of that
tension. It also provided a whole new set of challenges, nuances and variables beyond what he’d already mastered in
skiing. Some things translated easily—his uncanny-yet-subtle skill with flashes, for example—while others took a shift
of perspective.
“For me, biking is way more about having a really epic backdrop than skiing,” Lloyd says. “You can take cool pow shots
all day long, but you can do that anywhere. With biking, one
of the major challenges is finding those truly unique spots.”
Lloyd is a miner of the terrain around him, and in the
Wasatch there is no shortage of such truly unique and previously un-photographed spots. One of his favorite places to shoot is Whistler, BC; the fog, trees and PNW feel is
an intriguing ying to Utah’s desert yang. But as a life-long
denizen of the Wasatch there are few in the action sports
business that know it better.
“There are a lot of mountains around Salt Lake I’ve skied,
really established trails where people just don’t go,” he says.
“I’ve really tried to put my bike on my shoulders and hike
some of that stuff, and have found some pretty cool things
in the process. Some of the stuff I’ve skied has made me
wonder, ‘Is that ride-able on a bike? Can we do that?’”
Exploring is what keeps biking interesting, but Lloyd’s specialty has always been hang time. He’s always been able
to line up hucks and big airs along the angles that give the
most impressive perspective, an ability he attributes to his
personally developed understanding of fall-line. Because
when it comes down to it, Steve’s a sender at heart, something that’s come to his bike imagery seamlessly.
“With skiing and biking, I really like shooting air,” he says.
“When I work on all-mountain stuff, I usually find these
really sweet landscapes or backdrops, and that is really awesome. But at times like when KC Deane and I went down
to Green River, UT and ended up building a lot of our own
features, where the rider is just sending lofty airs, that is my
favorite kind of thing to shoot.”
As for the dangers of sending giant cliffs to pow versus giant
jumps to dirt? Lloyd still feels that, despite the potential consequences, biking isn’t necessarily any more dangerous than
skiing. In fact, even with his years among the toughest terrain
in the Wasatch, Lloyd feels more comfortable sending to dirt.
“Obviously people get hurt biking, but you make the decision: ‘I can jump off this or not,’ Lloyd says. “When you’re
skiing, you can choose to ski a slope or not, but there are
all these unknown factors coming into play that are out of
your control. It seems to me, beyond sending big jumps and
cliffs, biking is relatively way safer.”
Now 38, Lloyd’s most pressing passion these days are his
two sons, 8-year-old Weston and 4-year-old Wyatt. Wyatt
is pedaling with training wheels, and Weston is a serious
little ripper who has multiple “Photo of the Day” appearances on PinkBike.com. When he’s not spending time with
his boys in the mountains, Steve’s current focus is shooting
video, and in the future he wants to continue to integrate
that with all his projects, dirt or snow. And now, nearing 20
years after that initial realization, few people are as far from
“blowing it” as Steve Lloyd.
“I love mountain biking,” he says. “It’s just lower stress—
you don’t have boots or jackets or anything. Just rolling
down the trail, where you get tunnel vision and can just see
that track in front of you, that next line of jumps. I just love
that kind of flow.”
In addition to the oldest Anglo-built house in Utah still on
its original foundation, Antelope Island is also home to an
ecosystem distinct from the surrounding Salt Lake Valley.
At 28,000 acres and with a high point of nearly 7,000
feet, it’s also home to antelope, big horn sheep, deer and
buffalo—nerve-racking when 50 feet away, but definitely
impressive trailside companions.
The follow up to his original trip to the area, KC Deane’s Green
River 2.0 featured a custom line full of non-stop high-speed
action, with desert ridges, loose dirt and plenty of boosts. Steve
isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty, and he threw as much dirt as
anyone before nailing the shot on this particularly aesthetic hit.
It takes special circumstances and a lot of skill to capture
a truly surreal photo, but when you do it’s always thought
provoking. Cody Kelly rides the water line along an
abnormally low lake outside of Brighton, UT, blurring the
border between reality on some dreamy rock slabs.
Whether it’s the next trick or the future of the local trails, the
progression of mountain biking is always uncertain. All we can
do is put the next generation on two wheels and watch where
they take it. Seven-year-old Weston Lloyd shreds the Wild Rose
Trail as the sun casts some beautiful light on the future.
Andrew Whiteford gets otherworldy
somewhere on Utah’s Gooseberry Trail
system, location planet Earth.
The Great Salt Lake shimmers below Logan
Whitehead as he leans into a steep corner. Salt
Lake’s nearby trail system provides for some epic
backyard shooting grounds, one of the reasons
Steve has called the area home his entire life.
Like some sort of desert memory, Logan
Whitehead rides off into the sunset,
leaving no traces except a quickly
disappearing dust cloud.
Antelope Island is in the southeast corner of the Great Salt
Lake, and while it’s only a short journey from Salt Lake
City it feels like an entirely different world. The island’s
west coastline is particularly isolated and can feel like the
Pacific Ocean, letting Logan Whitehead forget about the
sprawling metropolis just a few miles away.
WITHIN OUR CITY LIMITS
The Small Town of Mountain Biking
Words and Portraits by Danielle Baker
At 19 I found myself newly surrounded by the daily chaos of life in a densely populated city. I had just moved to Vancouver, BC, uprooting myself from a small town
to this metropolis of towering high rises, one of which could have housed all the citizens of my hometown of Bamfield. It seemed ironic that I’d be lonely surrounded by
more people than I had probably seen in my previous 20 years. But I was.
It took a few years, many rides and more than a few scars,
but I eventually realized the reason for such a resounding
and consuming emotion: in moving, I had become unmoored from my formative community. Motley and mismatched as they were, my extended family had surrounded me from birth. Bonded by our isolated location, long
winters of power outages, and the sometimes-harsh west
coast existence, we consisted of all ages, ethnicities, denominations, opinions and abilities. Some were drawn to
our tiny town, some driven to it. Some longed for a simpler
existence, some were social outcasts. Others were retired
or entrepreneurs, and still others had long ago forgotten
the reasons their great-great-grandparents moved there in
the first place. Our shared love for this lifestyle allowed us
to function and gave us identity.
103
It never occurred to me that I would have to find this again
when I left. With nothing for comparison, I had taken it for
granted. I had assumed that this structure and feeling would
exist without effort my whole life regardless, but when I left
home—mostly to find work and date someone who wasn’t
a cousin—I willingly and unwittingly gave this up. And it’s
not a cheap thing to reacquire.
Sure, I had friends in the city, but a community is different
than people who like the same music or pubs. A community
is the grumpy old man who will readily tow your boat when
you break down. It’s the town drunk, who you have over for
Sunday dinner. It’s the children who don’t belong to you
but who you can scold without fear of an over-protective
mother. It’s someone you call “Aunty,” who’s not related but
Sweet dreams are made of this
okanagan valley, British Columbia Canada
Trail: Pip e dre am
2
silver level
ride centre
silver star mountain resort
Returning this june...
3 day ride cards
BIKESILVERSTAR.COM
2015
brings homemade fudge when your braces come off. Man,
did Aunty come through up when my braces came off.
Finding a new one proved to be an elusive endeavor. There
was no fudge, no disgruntled fisherman to help jump my
car, and the drunks were querulous at best. Then I found
mountain biking.
The citizens were as varied and colorful as those in Bamfield, if less hermit-esque. You might be on a climb next
to someone 30 years your senior, who would tell you about
their time building the trails we were riding. Or coaching
kids at a skills camp, no longer scolding but with the similar pride of investing in someone else’s future. I grew up
learning from people I may never otherwise have had the
opportunity to meet, and enjoyed a sense of safety that
came from being surrounded by many caring eyes (unless
you were underage and trying to get into the community
dance hall). It’s the same feeling I’ve found in bike parks
and trailheads during those sunny afternoons. It isn’t
strangers in a parking lot. It’s a family congregation.
As I became more involved, I came to perhaps an even
deeper revelation about community: you don’t find it, you
create it. Communities support and invest in each other, in
local talent, local businesses and local people. And in biking,
contrary to what some may think, most off those contributions happen off the bike, over shovels or starting lines or
post-ride beers, all with a love for biking at the core.
Just like in Bamfield, as our sport expands into the general
action sports mainstream and becomes more accessible to the
masses, we will also start to have more “summer residents,”
the figurative out-of-towners who visit for the sunny days but
leave when the storms come. We will have more riders with
less “off-the-bike” participation, less interest in being involved
and less understanding of our culture and history. With it will
come more potential for our community to be diluted. But
while the demographics may evolve, our common passion
will remain unchanged. As an elderly resident of my hometown once told me, “This town hasn’t changed, the people
have. When I sit here in the evening the light still hits the trees
across the harbor the same way it did when I was kid.”
When it comes down to it, mountain biking is a small town,
and we can look forward to and take pride in the children
growing up within our city limits. And just like any small
town, there is the chance these kids might hitchhike out of
town as fast as they can. They might rebel by joining the circus, or get into synchronized swimming instead of slopestyle.
But here’s the important thing: because they will have
grown up in our community—strong, hardworking and authentic—they will take the essence of it everywhere they go,
and will recognize a community when it surrounds them, as
I did. And they will understand that to truly grow a community, they must invest in it.
The city can still feel lonely at times; I don’t know the names
of everyone in my apartment building, and I have to pay
someone (who is also usually grumpy) to tow my car when it
breaks down. But whether I am on the trails or at my local
bike shop it is different now. I see friends and familiar faces, I
chat with strangers because we have something in common.
Even though I’m still surrounded by a few hundred thousand
people, this is my new small town. This is home.
S
T
N
E
M
H
S
E
R
EF
R
D
N
A
D
O
O
F
Y!
L
+
I
S
M
T
A
F
N
E
E
V
L
E
O
H
S
W
ID’
E
K
H
T
+
R
S
O
C
I
F
N
I
N
L
C
FU
+
+
S
S
O
E
L
M
F
E
F
D
A
E
R
+
BIK
G
N
I
D
I
R
L
I
+ TRA
EVERGREENMTBFESTIVAL.COM
All proceeds help the nonprofit Evergreen Mountain
Bike Alliance build and maintain trails statewide.
GET THE GOODS
FREEHUB MAGAZINE MERCHANDISE
If there’s one truism we at Freehub Magazine are passionate
about, it’s “quality over quantity.” Our journal-style, collectible-quality publication forsakes the flurry of advertisements
and industry so common in mountain bike media to capture
the stories and culture that make up the sport. Now, we are
proud to also offer similarly high-quality gear to complement that biking lifestyle.
For our readers who want to take their pride beyond the
coffee table, Freehub Magazine has teamed up with Race Face
and Recover Brand to offer custom apparel for every-day
representing. From a technical fleece hoody, to the classic,
short-sleeve collared shop shirt, to a synthetic, women’s-specific hoody, we have riders of all types covered with our
team-tested and approved gear.
Limited-edition screen prints, numbered and signed by cover artist Dan Mumford, are also available on the website.
The bright, animated landscapes are the perfect complement to any high-brow dirt-nut’s abode, whether above the
fireplace in the living room or shop bench in the garage.
Check out all the Freehub apparel and merchandise at:
Freehubmag.com/Merchandise
Tell your story
with Recover.
Promote your organization, business or event with our
custom designed and printed lifestyle and performance
wear made from 100% recycled materials. Owned and
operated out of our shop in North Carolina.
WWW.RECOVERBRANDS.COM
SUBSCRIBE
TO THE COFFEE TABLE QUARTERLY
T H E C O M M U N I T Y D R I V E N M O U N TA I N B I K E M A G A Z I N E
T H E C O M M U N I T Y D R I V E N M O U N TA I N B I K E M A G A Z I N E
FREEHUB MAGAZINE VOL FIVE FOUR
UINTA MOUNTAINS The Fish Whisperers
HONDURAS Unapologetically Authentic
ICELAND Sulfur and Singletrack
ISRAEL Echoes of Abraham
DAN MILNER More Important than Modesty
WINTER 2014 | THROUGH 4/21/15
T H E C O M M U N I T Y D R I V E N M O U N TA I N B I K E M A G A Z I N E
FREEHUB MAGAZINE VOL FIVE THREE
WEST
KOOTENAY
PHOTO
BOOK
GARRETT GROVE
BRUNO LONG
RYAN CREARY
KARI MEDIG
FALL 2014 | THROUGH 12/16/14
FREEHUB MAGAZINE VOL SIX ONE
T H E C O M M U N I T Y D R I V E N M O U N TA I N B I K E M A G A Z I N E
TIM HAREN Chasing Dragons
QUEBEC Cerce Complet
MIKE MCCORMACK It Takes a Village
KOOTENAY TRAIL TRIPPIN’ Rules of the Road
STEVE LLOYD Tunnel Vision
FREEHUB MAGAZINE VOL FIVE TWO
ARGENTINA Two-Stroke Steeds
STEVIE SMITH A Finely Tuned Massacre
BC BIKE RACE Bring on the Pain
EVIL BIKES The Resurrection
THE LOST COAST Big Foot Hunting
SPRING 2015 | THROUGH 7/28/15
SUMMER 2014 | THROUGH 09/30/14
Our readers and community are what make us
tick. Become a subscriber of Freehub Magazine
for $34.95 per year and receive four issues
of our community-generated mountain bike
publication. Help support the magazine that
supports you, whatever you ride. Freehub prints
every spring, summer, fall and winter.
ONE YEAR SUBSCRIPTION = 4 VOL
United States = $34.95
Canada = $45.95
Foreign = $84.95
Check out our NEW WEBSITE and SUBSCRIBE at:
FreehubMag.com/store/one-year-subscription
Rider: Jamie Nicoll
Location: Whistler, BC / Image: Dave Trumpore
THE ENDURO SQUAD
SCOTT BICYCLES, RACE FACE, CONTINENTAL TIRES, FSA GRAVITY
Steve Dempsey
Bellingham, WA, Age: 30
As both a racer and manager for Team Freehub’s second season, Steve Dempsey is
ready to pedal. As a flatlander from Michigan, Dempsey comes from a strict pro XC
background. With three top-20 finishes at Iceman Cometh—with 4,000-plus racers,
the biggest single-day MTB race in US—extensive experience on the Pro XCT circuit,
and three Enduro seasons under his lycra/belt, Dempsey proves racing is in his DNA.
His off-season training regime only further guarantees he’ll bring even more power
and endurance to his fourth Enduro Season. It is this dedication and love for the sport
that earned Dempsey the elected roll of team manager, where he has been a key factor
in progressing the Freehub race program. While maintaining his role as a professional
racer, Steve has successfully helped to acquire and manage a team budget, create team
content in both print and web, while supporting our other racers. Just as he goes all-out
on a bike, Dempsey’s dedication and passion is always turned up to 11. He’s the perfect
leader for our team, and under his guidance the 2014 season has only brought more
success and development. We look forward to the 2015 season and all it will bring.
K. Stan Jorgensen
You know the feeling. When everything comes together and the bike just
seems to disappear beneath you, becoming a part of you as you ow
from turn to turn in a seamless rush down the mountain. It’s the feeling
of condence, in both your bike and your abilities. The new Collosus
N Series bikes from Polygon feature super efficient climbing, 160mm
of active, progressive travel and the kind of balanced handling recent
reviews have called “condence inspiring”, “super fun” and “blends fun
and condence perfectly”. Nice words but you should see for yourself.
Test ride an N Series, we’re condent you’ll feel the difference.
Santa Barbara, CA, Age: 24
Stan is a born natural on two wheels, with a back ground in multiple racing disciplines. Forever an adrenaline junky, he earned his pro status as a downhiller in a mere
four years…until a dirt-biking accident and six months of couch-bound rehab forced
him to reevaluate his love for high speeds. When he returned it was on a “little” bike,
racing Super-D and enduro events, including the Downieville Classic his first season
back. In 2013 he earned a win at the Big Bear Super-D and a 3rd-place finish at the
Battleground Washington Enduro, and in 2014 further cemented his potential as a
force in the North American Enduro Tour, with multiple top-10 and top-5 stage results. Next season he has plans to compete in multiple Enduro World Races and a goal
of being a top contender in North America.
Amanda Cordell
Salt Lake City, UT, Age: 27
Born in a small town in Pennsylvania, in 2009 Amanda moved to Salt Lake City, UT
to pursue a more adventure-driven lifestyle. She succeeded: just four years later, she
was the Category 1 Downhill National Champion. After such dominance in the DH
arena, the move to the Enduro pro scene was inevitable. While her first year she suffered a few high-consequence crashes that put her temporarily on the sidelines, there
is no quitting for this girl. It’s a determination that extends past just racing—Amanda
also leads an organization called Ladyshred SLC, which facilitates rides, clinics and
other events targeted toward women in the Salt Lake area. In addition, she coaches
clinics at a number of local indoor and outdoor bike parks, furthering female involvement and progression in all disciplines. For 2015, Amanda will be channeling that
drive twoard the North American Enduro Tour, the Enduro World Series and the
Canyons Enduro series, as well as engaging her creative side on multiple video projects and group development rides. Amanda is a true ambassador of the sport.
Pacic North West Demo Tour, Spring/Summer 2015
Test ride and feel for yourself the fun,
condence inspiring handling of the 2015
Collosus N Series, T Series and Synclines.
Go to Polygonbikes.us/news for
trail heads and dates.
Purchase direct at polygonbikes.us
polygonbikesus
111
polygonbikes.us