nz mountain biker magazine

In retail they say convenience is king. That’s what global retail giant Amazon built its brand around. It bet that if it could make shopping more convenient it would trump almost all other factors. When it comes to bike-packing my mantra is this - comfort is king. I’m fast discovering that you can conquer almost anything and ride for almost any distance if you can just stay comfortable, and so Tour Aotearoa preparation for me has become less focussed on grinding out miles with the goal of building leg strength, but grinding out enough miles to trigger the next factor of discomfort.

Take your average beginner cyclist. They get on a bike having never ridden before, and likely it’s a cheap bike with a nasty seat. Within five minutes they are complaining about a sore bum. That’s typical, and they have triggered the first round of discomfort that they need to conquer before they can move forward. They can either suffer till they get well-formed callouses on their butt-cheeks, or they can buy a pair of padded bike shorts. If you’re interested in long distance bike-packing such as the Tour Aotearoa, you have probably been around bikes long enough that you have accumulated a few items that can help keep the comfort levels high on your normal one to two-hour ride, but what I’m finding surprising is the strange things that start to crop up when you start to go for extended time in the saddle.

That good seat you bought that was comfortable for two hours of mountain biking turns to agony at the three-hour mark. Those SPD shoes that have kept you going for the last eight years force shooting pains in to your feet after the 100km mark. Your hands go numb, your shorts chafe and your helmet feels like an oven.

You can conquer almost anything if you can just stay comfortable, but that is no easy task in this game. Going in to this I had read up about people finding their hands going numb. This sounded a bit strange. After all, I had been mountain-biking for 20 years and surely the rough jarring of mountain bike terrain would be harder on your hands than anything else? We didn’t even have suspension then! But sure enough, my hands started to go numb too during training rides. A switch to the Jones Bar, a set of aero bars, and an extra layer of bar tape over the grips seems to have solved this problem. Next thing to tackle was the chafing. Riding for one day was no trouble at all in the chafe department, but only an hour into a second day and all of a sudden it’s like my lycra is lined with sandpaper. Strange. The aptly name Butt Butter quickly sorted this out, but no sooner has one irritation gone away than another seems to arise. The last two training rides I went out for were a perfect example of this. For some reason at the 40km mark my left foot started to get intense shooting, cramp-like pains. I had to get off the bike, take the shoe off, and wriggle my toes for five minutes before I could continue. Strange. It came on with no warning, and went away just as fast. A few days later out on another ride and as I look down at my speedo tick over from 39.9km to 40.0, all of a sudden the same shooting pains return. I was off the bike in the grass wiggling my toes in the exact same middle of nowhere spot as the time before. Weird. On top of this you have the strange way sleeping in a tent on a one-inch mattress can leaving you feeling as stiff as a plank, and now you’ve got to get dressed and jump on the bike for another eight hours. A little yoga and stretching goes a long way as it turns out!

And this is what has surprised me most about all of this. I am far from being at any sort of extraordinary level of fitness, but I’m surprised at just how many kilometres I can crank out if I can just stay comfortable. When I talk to people and tell them I’m riding the length of the country, they have this kind of astounded look on their face like I am some sort of Olympic athlete or something. Actually maybe the astounded look is because they look at me, sum up my mediocre-at-best physique, the combination of the task and the distinctly average human specimen they see before them. Maybe it’s more of a quizzical ‘has he actually gone a bit mad’, extrapolating out the five minutes of pain they felt last time they sat on a bike seat out over 25 days continuously. But I soon find out that they don’t know what I know. You can conquer anything if you can just stay comfortable.

So right now I’m actually in this kind of sadistic training mode. Literally. Yes, I’m trying to get a little bit of tone, a little bit of definition in the calf muscles, but more than that I’m actively looking to ride long enough, far enough simply to trigger the next round of pain, the next round of discomfort. Because at this stage of the Tour I can do something about it. I can buy Butt Butter, I can fit aero bars, I can tweak and adjust and make minute alterations in the hope of creating the ultimate Zen bike set up upon which all riding is good, all riding is calm, all riding is at peace.

Of course then I might start to notice that my legs are actually really really sore.

Words & Photography: Lance Pilbrow

A few years ago, the Department of Conservation approached Trail Fund with an unprecedented query – would we be interested in collaborating with trampers and hunters in maintaining huts and tracks on public conservation land?

It was a bit of a leap for everyone involved but also the start of something great. Trail Fund was a relatively new organization, albeit with experienced people, and mountain bikers and trampers hadn’t always seen eye-to-eye on how tracks should be used. It’s safe to say there was a little suspicion on all sides.

The result of this, after many meetings and e-mails along the way, was the Outdoor Recreation Consortium – a partnership between Trail Fund NZ, Federated Mountain Clubs (FMC) and the New Zealand Deerstalkers’ Association (NZDA). The creation of this new entity was key to obtaining funding from the Community Conservation Partnership Fund, and it received a significant amount. Through that, Trail Fund has been able to distribute and manage funding of many mountain bike projects, from the Missing Link project above Queenstown, to the Craigieburn Trails west of Christchurch, to Te Iringa track in the mid-North Island.

“Along the way, links between our organisations have grown and deepened,” says Trail Fund secretary and co-founder Nessa Lynch, who worked closely with FMC and NZDA on application and allocation processes. “We’ve realised that trampers, hunters, alpine recreationalists, and mountain bikers have more in common than we do differences.

“Many, if not all of us, are multi-recreationalists and, as a result, there’s been learning on all sides.”

The three partners have now moved to establish the Backcountry Trust, which formalises the relationship between Trail Fund, NZDA and FMC in facilitating and supporting volunteer-led maintenance of huts and tracks on public conservation land. This will allow centralised administration and management of grants.

Nessa Lynch and Guy Wynn-Williams (Christchurch- Ground Effect) will represent Trail Fund’s interests on the Trust. Three years of funding has been secured from the Department of Conservation.

What does this mean for volunteers? Trail Fund will continue its core business of funding, volunteer support and advocacy. This Backcountry Trust funding will be available for projects on public conservation land. The Backcountry Trust’s first funding round will be in February 2018, and existing grants are transitioning to the Trust structure.

Have a project in mind?

Start thinking about any projects you might have on public conservation (DOC) land. The focus is generally on maintenance and upgrade of existing tracks rather than new builds, but the Trust is keen to hear about any ideas you might have. We’d love to hear from mountain bikers who would be keen to look after huts, as well as tracks. The vision of the Trust is that groups in an area would collaborate on projects.

In related news, Trail Fund has also made the decision this year to affiliate to Federated Mountain Clubs. This affords us access to advocacy and representation on issues such as land access, and gives mountain bikers a voice in the wider outdoor recreation community.

We are keen to advance opportunities for mountain bike access on public conservation land, and happy to hear of any ideas or issues that you have. Email us on grants@trailfund.org.nz

Words: Meagan Robertson

Images: Callum Wood

Liberation. Release. Freedom. Since 1999, the aptly named singletrack has delivered all three sentiments, as well as a few dozen others, to hundreds of riders in Wellington, its surrounds and even much further afield. Located in dense bush, and rarely fully dry, Deliverance was the brainchild of an enthusiastic group of friends who loved mountain biking and wanted to contribute to its evolution in the Capital.

“I can still remember how it started,” says Tama Easton, who worked at the nearby Mud Cycles bike shop in the ‘90s and was one of the half dozen builders committed from the get go. “We peered down from Wright’s Hill to South Karori with the enthusiasm of explorers setting foot in fertile unchartered country. With little to no experience, but all the eagerness in the world, we set out to build a much-needed connection that we thought would be done in about three weekends.”

With machetes and shovels in hand, Mike Houghton aka Mudzy (the owner and namesake of Mud Cycles), Jono Baddiley, Tom Werry, Seth Blum, Ricky Pincott and Tama couldn’t wait to get stuck in.

“It was the start of a golden era in Wellington mountain biking,” says Jono. “It really felt like a turning point in those days – mountain biking was approved on Mount Victoria, Wellington hosted the World Cup XC and building at Makara Peak was underway, with three singletrack trails completed.”

Jono and Tama admit the crew didn’t know much about trail building at that point, but there was no lack of desire to learn. Even after it became apparent that completing the trail was going to take much, much longer – and require some proper tools – the eagerness didn’t wane.

“You get to a stage where you’ve committed so much time and effort that you don’t want to stop, you just can’t,” says Tama. “So we just kept pushing forward with this cheerful optimism that it would get done. We didn’t know any trail building theory but had a good rhythm going. We’d work out where the track was heading, tear into the dense bush and vines, someone would ride the new section, and if they deemed it “almost rideable” we could move onto planning the next section.”

When something wasn’t “almost rideable”, the crew would have a few goes to see if they were just having an off day. “There was this 8 metre shoot that we ended up calling Satan’s Crack, and after a few too many tries we decided it might actually kill people, so we chose an alternate line.” In reality, completing the build took about 18 months and on Easter weekend in 1999, Deliverance was declared open.

“By the time we went ‘right, this is done’, it was was deemed “rideable”, which meant we were sick of trail building and theoretically you could ride a bike from one end to the other,” says Tama.“Two weeks later James broke his arm on ‘The Chute’, starting a grand tradition of Deliverance chewing up and spitting out hapless riders. Luckily, Don McLeod came along and put hundreds of hours towards upgrading the trail to a more accessible level.”

Not that it doesn’t still spit out riders, hapless or not. “It was built to be a feral trail and 20 years later, it’s still feral,” says Jono. “It’s always an achievement to get all the way down without dabbing.”

As if to prove a point, at the 20-year anniversary event in early May – which was attended by dozens of Deliverance disciples – Ricky, who helped build the trail and has ridden it hundreds of times, broke his wrist and ankle. “What can I say? It keeps you on your toes… or breaks them.”

While breaking riders wasn’t his goal, Tama, who came up from Nelson for the anniversary, says it’s great to know so many riders have honed their skills on a trail he feels such a connection with. “You can tell that it’s still loved, still ridden and still feral in places – I bought my first full suspension bike with the intent to ride it, and I hope it’s inspired others to do the same.I would highly recommend taking part in trail building – whether it’s the full shebang or just a section. It’s pretty special to, 10-20 years later, say I helped make this and thousands of people have enjoyed it.”

Words: Meagan Robertson

Images: Mike Hopkins

One of the great things about any flavour of mountain biking, is its freedom. Outside the realms of competition, its lack of rules and regulations contribute to expanding the fun-factor of merely riding in the great outdoors. There are a few unwritten rules of the jungle, though; some obvious to anyone with a bit of common sense or riding experience; and others which are more abstract. The growing popularity of eBikes on NZ trails adds another dimension to the mix of what is considered ‘proper’ trail etiquette. Although I’d never be arrogant enough draw a line in the sand and say you must do this or that, there are factors at play with eBikes being a valid and growing part of our mountain biking culture, and these are changing some of the previous long-standing courtesies.

A significant one is labelling other riders. You know the drill; you rock up to a trail head and size up any other riders there - trying to judge their ability by the kit they’re wearing, how pro-looking their bike setups are, and that indefinable confidence some riders exude. All this helps determine the self-seeding pecking order of who should head off down the trail first. We’re still at a stage where there are plenty of self-important elitists who swear they’ll never taint their riding pedigree by being seen astride a motor-assisted mountain bike. Woe betide any E-bike rider who arrives at a downhill trailhead at the same time as one of these purists, as they would instantly be tagged as old, lazy or just a cheat for making their climbing easier. That is a mistake, though. As a literal example - I’m aware of several local hotshots who spend their time equally between their regular bikes and their motor-assisted ones. If one of these guys is at the start of your favourite Grade 5 trail it doesn’t matter which bike they’re on, they’re going to beat most riders to the end of it.

On the flip side, E-bike riders shouldn’t gauge other riders by their own standards. Sure, eBikes are supremely capable, and in the hands of a skilled rider are quite the rocketship on descents, even when not pedalling. But just because an eBike rider can ride fast, doesn’t mean their concept of ‘fast’ matches up with other riders they share the trail with. I am thinking particularly of a different couple of local riders I know, one who is an elite triathlete with great mountain bike skills, and the other who successfully races at elite level across DH, Enduro and XC disciplines. I reckon they’d give the average eBike rider a run for their money on almost any style of trail, except for an outright gravel road climb.

One of the points of difference when riding an E-bike is the sheer number of riders you’ll pass on climbs of all descriptions, from gravel roads to single-track. When riding an eBike, I’ve occasionally found a cheery ‘G’day’ is received with a bit of a grunt when passing riders on regular bikes. Sometimes, there will even be a mumble about cheating or some such nonsense. On particularly busy days in the forest, I’d try to minimise the effect by dialling down the motor assist or even turning it completely off. This serves to both reduce the noise of the motor whirring away to make the E-bike presence less obvious, and to pass the rider in question at a more moderate pace. There is no real requirement to do this, it’s just a small element of trying to be aware of, and courteous to, other riders.

Those aforementioned hotshots I was speaking of are at the stage of getting bells for their E-bikes. Although efficient - and even essential - for commuters, there is no denying that a bell is pretty uncool by most mountain bike standards. But… these guys are passing people so often, the bell serves a purpose to gently say, ‘hey, I’m here and I’m coming through’, without needing to engage in a more direct verbal interaction such as, ‘hey, how’s it goin’? On your right’. A gentle ‘ding ding’ sound should mitigate some of the mumbled comments about cheaters

Just riding an E-bike doesn’t automatically make the rider polite and aware of their fellow forest users though. I’ve also seen the opposite in effect: a family of recreational riders on rental E-bikes. I’m pretty sure they were recreational - their attire of Canterbury rugby jerseys, short shorts and running shoes kind of gave them away. Nothing at all wrong with that, but there was plenty wrong with their riding manner. Their newness to mountain biking was further evidenced by their disregard of other riders around them. They were having a great time, to be sure - grins plastered on their faces as they wove between the riders on regular bikes, on the climb to one of the most heavily trafficked intersections in Rotorua’s Redwood Forest trail network. With speeds two or three times faster than that of anyone else around them, the potential for bringing down a rider was high. They got away with it. This time. The moral of that story is that E-bike riders have a responsibility to be aware of other riders around them and tailor their speed accordingly. Especially as they generally have more available speed on tap at any given time.

Don’t be tempted to make jokes at the expense of E-bike riders who need to team up in order to hoist their hefty rigs onto their bike racks or the back of their utes. There may well come a time when you make use of the ability of a rider with E-bike power to tow you uphill or to a ride’s end. I’ve used a simple makeshift set-up myself, so I can attest to its efficiency. All it takes is a couple of spare innertubes linked together, one end slung over the seatpost of an E-bike, the other wrapped around the bars and then held in place under the rider’s hand on the grip. The rider being towed on their regular bike, whether it be because of a mechanical issue, injury or any other reason, will be in for an effortless trip to their destination. In my use of the technique, I was towing a photographer with his 20kg bag of kit on his regular bike up a sizeable gravel road to get to a photo location. Left to our own devices I would have taken a fraction of the time on the E-bike, and been left waiting while he battled uphill. As it was, we were able to easily roll up the hill at 20kph.

Don’t get too smug, joking that when an E-bike rider’s battery runs flat they’re stuffed. Sure, riding a heavy E-bike with no power is tougher than riding a regular bike, but it’s not wildly impossible by any means. I’ve done it myself, run an E-bike flat because I was having too much fun seeing how many technical descending trails I could fit into one day (I can’t answer the question of how many though, as I was having so much fun I lost count). The last hour of my ride that day was using the lowest of minimal power to eke out the final remnants of battery to get out of the forest, then dead flat battery riding the half hour of roads back to my house. It was a little slower on the climbs of course, but not ridiculously so. Therefore, don’t think an E-bike rider’s ride ends if the battery goes flat.

Them and Us. No matter which side of the equation you see yourself fitting into, there are perceptions about each – often completely ignorant. Ultimately, a rider’s abilities can lie anywhere on the spectrum from beginner to local legend, regardless of whether their bike that day is motor-assisted or not. One of the unspoken rules of mountain biking remains, and applies to both acoustic and E-bike riders: be nice to each other out there, we’re all mountain bikers at the end of the day.

Words & Photography: Nick Lambert