Sommaire pour No 65 de Spoke

The morning of going to print is always a time fraught with stress and last-minute changes, but this was one change we weren’t expecting to have to make, and one that we wish we didn’t have to. Waking up to the news that Kelly had passed away stunned not only the New Zealand biking community, but the whole mtb world. Anyone who met Kelly will be feeling the same shock, sadness and sense of unfairness that a true legend of our sport, a man way too fit and young to leave us, has done just that. While I didn’t know him well, his nature was summed up perfectly by Paris Gore who said “I’m sure he made you feel like his best friend, as Kelly did with everyone he met.”…

This is why I like cycling; I can do it all by myself Here are six words I hate: There is no ‘I’ in team. I hate them for lots of reasons. For one, they bring back disagreeable memories of cruel soccer/hockey/basketball coaches, and of smug posters pinned to the walls of the incurably boring classrooms of my youth. I also hate them because they imply that ‘I’ is a negative thing, and ‘team’ is a positive thing, and I disagree. I do not like team sports. As far as I’m concerned, when you play on a team, whether it be soccer, cricket, rugby, hockey or jai alai, there are two likely outcomes, and they are both bad: (A) You screw it up for everybody else and all your teammates…

This is not chemically induced; it’s good old fashion adrenaline Let’s talk about a feeling some of us lost a few years ago, something you may remember from childhood, when it rained and the mud was deep. You guys in the back row on hardtails with those knowing smiles, just be quiet; you know what I’m on about. It may be lost but it can be found. It could be at the back of your parents’ garage covered in cobwebs, or it could be hanging with promises of “I’ll still ride it... it’ll be my wet weather bike, my winter bike.” It’s old, slightly rusty, and if you rode it, you’ll know all about it. It’s your perception of speed. But calling it your perception of speed is a little…

Describing the subtle hints of passionfruit and ginger in the craft lager they swill My first job at the age of 15 was at the local bike shop. We sold frame-up builds and built high-end rigs. If you wanted full sus, Santa Cruz was your only option and Voodoo filled the hardtail need. Every bike we built came in two boxes, neither of them ‘bike box shaped’. One contained the frame; the other, parts in their original boxes along with a fork and wheels. This led me to having caviar taste and high standards hammered into my core being. My soul spun freely on Chris King bearings, my tendons were Gore-Tex cables, and Saratoga Bike Shop has been my yardstick for every shop I’ve worked at since. However, a good…

Cathedral -like aspen stands and legendary wildflower fields beckon A few lone monoliths seem to stand as sentinels It’s mid July and I’ve ridden most every trail around my hometown at least a couple of times. While the riding in my backyard is great, I’m beginning to lose motivation for both biking and shooting. It’s time for a change of scenery. It’s time to explore a new zone. It’s time for a road trip. It’s been years since I’ve ridden in Crested Butte, but the miles of uncrowded high alpine singletrack, cathedral-like aspen stands and legendary wildflower fields beckon. I must heed their call. I reach out to a few friends, pack up my bike, camping and photo gear and split town. Of all the places I’ve ridden, there are…

In December 2015, a new track was opened on Fernhill in Queenstown and a legend was born: Salmon Run. Queenstown Mountain Bike Club wanted to add an official trail to an area known for having some of the best unofficial riding in town. Over the course of six months of volunteer driven Wednesday night dig sessions, they were able to cut in this amazing new run using only hand tools, sweat equity, and a few celebratory cold ones. Fittingly, the trail finishes just metres from one of the diggers’ personal garage bar, the ‘Salmon Saloon’, from where Salmon Run takes its name. The innocuous start to the trail lures you into a false sense of security as you casually drop in, thinking perhaps this track will be a fun cruise…

If the hairs on the back of your neck don’t stand up when you hear the chopper approaching, you must be dead inside It’s sad, but it seems to be a human trait that when we have a gift we take it for granted, never utilising it to its full advantage, and then it’s gone, taking all potential and opportunity with it. Most of these gifts are wasted on the young, like the ability to drink all night and not get a hangover, ending an argument with a partner by just saying sorry, or eating all the rubbish food you can get your hands on and never gaining a pound. All wasted gifts. One gift we all waste every year is summer. Sure, it shows up each year and we…

The purveyors of said adventure didn’t really have a new product to launch My eyes scanned the email again. An ‘adventure experience’ in Tasmania? Tasmania? Sure, why not? Sign me up. As strange as an ‘adventure’ trip sounded, it was instantly more appealing than the standard brand/product launch, usually mundane affairs consisting of endless PowerPoint presentations, drinks, nibbles and baffling engineers’ reports, followed by an obligatory test ride, beer and back home by bedtime. So a four-day riding sojourn in north-eastern Tasmania sounded too good to be true. Curious thing was that Shimano, the purveyors of said adventure, didn’t really have a new product to launch. So why were they taking a few media guys, three athletes and a photographer on an adventure across the Bass Strait and into the…

Hail Mary, full of something… Did I just say that? Is my internal fear manifesting itself in prayer? All this preparation and anticipation for my first foray this far south, yet I may not even make it to the ground in one piece, or at least until we hit the ground and become pieces. Maybe we’ll hit that mountain there, it’s a bit bloody close isn’t it? Look to the front; no, keep the eyes shut; nope, that’s worse… I’d be better advised to plug my ears; that annoyingly chirpy woman behind me with her thinly-veiled optimism in the face of certain death might just do me in before this tin can with wings meets the earth, either by plan or the lesser desired alternative. Our father, who aren’t my…

Scott team rider Brendan Fairclough is coming to Crankworx, Rotorua and you could be riding with him. Scott Sports are giving away x5 chances to win an exclusive ride with Brendan, including tickets to Crankworx and accomodation in Rotorua. All you have to do to go in the draw is purchase any Scott product before 29th Feb. For more info check out your local Scott dealer - scott-sports.com There are 5 prize packs to be won - each includes: • Two spots in the exclusive group ride with Brendan Fairclough at Crankworx Rotorua on 8th March • Two signed jerseys from Brendan Fairclough • Two single day passes to Crankworx Rotorua, 9th March • 1 night Accommodation in Rotorua, 8th March (twin share/queen Purchase any Scott product and go in…

A degree of anonymity helps shield any form of physical retribution It’s that time of year when all those best of lists come out and we collectively analyse, condemn or pat ourselves on the back, depending on what ranking we’ve achieved. I see New Zealand is dropping down the list of ‘least corrupt countries’ which is good. Or is it? Hang on, we’re getting more corrupt? Oh well, we’re always near the top of the ‘best countries to live in’ list. What, we’re falling down that one, too? Australia? Norway? No way! Whoever compiles these lists obviously isn’t a mountain biker, because rating a place to live without taking trails into account seems like a flawed exercise to me. Of course, they rate those other less important factors like quality…

Yet another rider bloodied their knuckles in the twisted dance of greasy links and gouged steel tubes Drop the word chainsuck into a conversation with any modern mountain biker (which can mean anywhere north of 2005) and you’ll likely be met with an expression akin to a dog that’s just been shown a card trick. But the early days of mountain biking were stained by the ever-present threat of your chain ejecting itself from the granny ring and lodging itself between the crank arm and chainstay, usually requiring a good deal of yanking, sweating and swearing to extricate it, if you were lucky. Drivetrain choices were more than limited in the early 90s, and Shimano had pretty much cornered the market. SRAM hadn’t been thought of, Campagnolo had come and…

You’re lost, confused, crashing and causing a major pile-up We all ride with our buddies, right? I mean that’s half the reason why we ride; a better alternative to sitting around throwing money at beer/wine and pretending we could easily score that hot, way younger sex god/goddess we think is checking us out but in reality is looking at that huge pimple on your nose that your so-called buddies have failed to point out. I digress. So we ride with our mates and that doesn’t often change. We have our riding order, we know who’s quickest and on what trail, and our rides go fairly seamlessly apart from the odd misdemeanor. But what happens when you go to a biking metropolis like Rotorua and find yourself getting off the shuttle…

The word ‘roam’ is a verb meaning to move or travel unsystematically, or without fixed purpose, but it is also related to the Old English word araeman, meaning arise, or lift up. Both convey perfectly the concept behind Ro4m Free, a new all-women’s team dedicated not to racing and winning (although all of its members do both, often), but to sharing and promoting a love of mountain biking in all its forms, and at all its levels. Ro4m Free is the brainchild of teacher Melissa Newell, AKA Mops, well-known in the Wanaka/Queenstown area as much for her infectious enthusiasm as for her mad skills on a bike. Originally from Invercargill, she’s only been riding for about seven years, but has excelled in that short time. Mops came to mountain biking…

Text & Photos Mattias Fredriksson It feels like there’s no way to ride a mountain bike in this area Italy’s Aosta Valley has always been popular among skiers, hikers and climbers, but is not as well known to mountain bikers. Thanks to the farming and hiking culture in the mountains on the sunny side of the Mont Blanc massif, there are endless trails all over this beautiful valley, which starts right where the 11km Mont Blanc Tunnel ends. Often this region is described as an Italian paradise with a bit of a French touch, which is fairly accurate. The difference compared to the French side is not so big nature-wise, but as soon as you meet someone local or walk into a restaurant, bar or café, you will notice a…

Words and Photos Nathan Hughes However heartbreaking, the decision to leave the furry little bundle of joy behind was made. The wind gusts and the hairs prickle on exposed forearms, emerging from a thick, red Oakley hoodie. Leaning over a 580mm wide handlebar, wearing baggy jeans and white hi-top shoes, the ‘Goat King’ calmly surveys his estate before him, but the reality of failing on the 10 metre drop at the end of the woodwork is kicking in. The year is 2005 and Timo Pritzel, reigning champion of the event’s style award, sits on top of what is now the biggest European contest feature to date at the Adidas Slopestyle in Saalbach, Austria. If he doesn’t get it smooth, someone else surely will. The start list is formidable: Gracia, Berrecloth,…