Features

Words Lester Perry
Images Caleb Smith & Jason Beacham

On 7th September 2012, at the youthful age of 30, James Dodds – affectionately known as Dodzy – passed away after a hunting accident. Not only did the mountain bike world lose a key figure that day, but many of us lost a great friend and inspiration. For ten years, the Dodzy Memorial Enduro has brought together a section of NZ’s MTB community, firstly to celebrate Dodzy’s life and legacy, but equally to celebrate the things he was into, as we are; riding and racing bikes, hanging with mates, and just generally having a good time outside.

In the months preceding Dodzy’s passing, he and Jeff Carter (business partner in NZ Trial Solutions trail building company) had pursued the idea of running a race in the Wairoa Gorge MTB park they’d been developing. At the time, the zone was off-limits to all, aside from over 50 trail builders working in there, or those who were lucky enough to know the right people or were part of the inner circle of the land owners RHL. The idea had been to open the park up for an event to give people a taste for the gnarlier side of what it had to offer. Dodzy had a taste for tech, and he wanted to expand the circle of who could enjoy some of the gorge’s finest.

We had a lengthy sit-down with Nick Crocker, who was managing the Wairoa Gorge property at the time of Dodzy’s passing. “I had to ask Jamie Nichol what Enduro was. Well, to get an exact definition. I mean, I knew what it was, having seen a little bit of stuff on Pinkbike, but it was kind of like, what actually defines it? What is it really? I don’t think there were any in New Zealand back then.”

“It’s pretty funny because I had two chats with Dodzy, who was just frothing about it. And I was sort of like, it’s pretty left field to be honest (to be running a race). We used to have Zoom chats every couple of weeks, and he’s just going on about this Enduro, and I’m like, man, I don’t even… I’ve got this big list of things that I wanted him to give me answers to and he’s just going on about this Enduro!”

Background work was progressing, and with signoff from the gorge’s owners, things were falling into place for an event to remember— until the fateful day in September.

Nick Crocker was heading off on holiday; south towards Kaikoura, having just ridden the Maungatapu trail. He and his now-wife stopped at the Kekerengu Store for some food. Jeff Carter’s name flashed on the screen as Nick’s phone rang—nothing out of the ordinary; Nick was site manager in the gorge, employed by NZTS, which was Jeff and Dodzy’s trail-building company.

Jeff delivered the devastating news that Dodzy had passed, and Nick’s world went into a spin – not only at the loss of a mate, but also thinking of the effect Dodzy’s passing was going to have on so many people. Once the initial shock subsided, he knew he needed to inform the wider NZTS crew. “I had to call Mortz at the gorge and tell him to let all the boys there know and pass it on, which was pretty heavy. He got all the guys together at the gorge and passed the news on to them. Everyone just went crazy.”

Following Dodzy’s funeral, talks of an Enduro continued between the owners of the Gorge, Jeff and Nick. “Jeff Carter was the one who was sort of like, well, if we’re still going to do it, it should become the Dodzy Memorial. So, I guess that’s where that idea stemmed from.”

“I remember being pretty overwhelmed and pretty conscious of how important it was, because it’s all Dodzy’s mates and it’s sort of quite strange for us to be the ones running the memorial. I was conscious that some people would probably think it should be in Rotorua, and people would be like, why? What’s the connection to the gorge?”

Jeff organised the back end, creating the online entry form and helping distribute the link. Gabby (Dodzy’s partner) also got stuck in, helping organise sponsors and a load of spot prizes. From there, it was over to Nick and his crew at the gorge to organise the race trails and ensure they were up to spec come race day.

In the event’s early days, before Facebook was a common thing, communication was largely word of mouth. A link to an email sign-up form had been flying around. First, it was emailed to Dodzy’s close friends, who then sent it on, and word of the event went viral from there. Weeks later, the link to the entry form was emailed to those who had signed up, and in about two minutes flat, the first Dodzy Memorial Enduro was a complete sell-out. These early years became known as “the keyboard warrior years”.

For the first few editions, the balance of holding an event of this magnitude and reach, while keeping its core foundation as a memorial to Dodzy weighed heavy on Nick’s mind. The first couple of years attracted a broad range of riders to the gorge and, inevitably, there were a few people whose riding wasn’t up to the level needed to take on the gorge.

“I remember one guy at the shuttle pickup just came over and got pretty aggro with me and was like, ‘You can’t do this. It’s too hard. Everyone thinks it’s too hard. You’re going to have to change it’. I said, I can’t, mate. It’s not going to change.” After a chat with some of Dodzy’s closest friends, they agreed the race should stay as it was, just as he would have wanted it. “It was definitely a challenge making sure the event was an appropriate memorial for him and stayed true to Dodzy’s quest to have a high-level Enduro at the gorge, by not only having flawless logistics over the weekend but also by laying out one heck of a technically demanding array of trails to race too.”

After a couple of years, the DME’s reputation was cemented, and those who turned up to race knew not only what they were in for but were prepared for the level of the event. “The epic thing has been that so many people have been up for the challenge. We haven’t let up. It’s stayed hard, but people just got better, and the riding progression has been unreal to watch.”

Over the years, the numbers have changed as people have aged up through the categories. Those who were Elite or Open at the early running’s, have worked their way through the Masters divisions and, in some cases, into the Legends classes – a lot changes over ten years.

“It’s pretty unreal to look at, for example, Nico Schroeder, who won in the Open Men category in 2023. The first year, he would have been four or five [years old]. Mel and Nigel, his parents, would have got mum and dad to babysit him so they could come and volunteer at the race. Now he’s won it. The same with Xanthe Robb, who was 3rd in the Elite Women’s in 2023. She’s probably been watching this race from the get-go. It’s pretty cool to see those guys come through. They’ve got a connection with the race, through their parents, and then they’ve made it their own as well. It’s pretty awesome.”

A fully independent event like this runs on a shoestring budget and, with no external funding or assistance, should any cost blow, it would ultimately be on Nick to sort it out. Outside of finances, the amount of administration going on behind closed doors leading up to each event presented Nick with a mammoth task each year, particularly once he had relocated to Rotorua from Nelson for a few years.

“For a while there, every morning you get up, you do an hour’s work then, if I can, I’ll shoot home at lunchtime and keep up with emails and stuff. And then after work every night for an hour and a half or something. It’s pretty full on, but that’s it for the initial entry period. It’s tricky when you’re working full-time because you have to keep up with everything. If you let everything slide, then all of a sudden it just backs up. It’s a lot easier if you can keep up with the emails and just sort of keep the momentum going.”

The work isn’t done after the final rider had come across the finish line, with the following week spent tidying up, returning gear, tying up admin and paying bills. Fortunately, Nick’s memory of how much work he was putting in for each event quickly faded and, after a short couple of weeks down time, he’d begin the build toward the following year’s gathering.

Most of the work leading into the event was dealt with by Nick, but the closer the event drew, the more people became involved. Once all the preparation was complete, a crew of around 55 assembled to support and run the event. During the first year the team was largely NZ Trail Solutions crew who were still working on the site. As the years have gone by, and NZTS work ceased, the mix for volunteers has changed to be less trail crew but more core locals who have had an attachment either to Dodzy or the Wairoa Gorge, in one way or another.

We’ve seen major ups and downs over the years, from threats of forest closures due to fires, to Covid – then there was the big wet of 2020. Keen to get a DME going in 2020, with the turmoil of lockdowns, travel restrictions and general uncertainty, Nick worked with Byron at the Fourforty Bike Park in Auckland, a longtime friend of Dodzy, to get one in the calendar and keep the dream alive. That was a weekend to remember, attracting many northerners who hadn’t yet made a pilgrimage to the Wairoa Gorge. A number of Dodzy’s close friends from his early years turned up to celebrate his memory; taking on a grass dual-slalom and a fast paced Enduro.

By November 2020, things were looking up with regards to Covid, and Nick managed to pull together a monumental running of the event. With one eye on the weather leading up to game day, and rain coming in, Nick grew increasingly concerned that shuttle and emergency vehicles may not be able to make it through the river at the foot of the hill, meaning the event wouldn’t be able to proceed. A steady stream of vehicles arrived at the Gorge on Friday afternoon, able to camp onsite over the weekend, for the first time. The rain continued through the night, bringing the river to critical levels. Fortunately, a small lull in the weather meant the river dropped enough to allow an eight hour window in which to run the event. With a pivot in proceedings, the regular two-day event became one; riders would now head up the hill straight into race runs rather than spend the day practising and racing the following day.

By sundown, after a soggy day sliding down the trails, riders returned to a campsite underwater and assessed the damage from the day. Bikes were broken, gear torn, everything was wet and muddied, but smiles remained. Come Saturday evening, after a hearty feed, revellers were treated to a bush doof of sorts as P-Digsss took to the decks. Everyone on- site embraced the night, enjoying a party Dodzy would have loved to be a part of!

Alas, all good things must come to an end, and all things in life have a season or chapter. November 2023 brought with it the final running of the DME. For the last time in this format, a core group of riders gathered to celebrate one last time. We saw some first-timers who’d finally managed to pull away from normal life to attend, as well as groups who’d attended all 10 events. What was evident was that, regardless of how many visits to the event they’d had, each person had a connection to Dodzy in some way, and everyone knew why we were there.

Harriet Harper – DME podium contender
Well… Gabby and Dodzy were like the King and Queen of mountain biking there for a while. It was a privilege to get to hang out with them. Dodzy was running on about 200% intensity for mountain biking, not just that he designed/ made his own bike and ran the skills clinic business, but every ride he went on was full tilt, with minimal stopping, and he seemed to have twice as much fun doing it than anyone else.

The DME is the only race I’ve bothered doing in recent years, as it always attracts a super fun crowd. I remember the keyboard warrior phase (first in, first served entry), then the repeat invite list developed to keep the good vibes going, which was nice. I wouldn’t have been organised enough to get an entry otherwise! Obviously, people thought I won it more than I did, but I came second most times I went. It was the sort of event where not winning was totally OK; it was always a podium full of your best mates, even if you’d only met them that weekend (I’m thinking of you, Katy Winton).

My favourite edition was the super wet one with the Bloody Priest stage. I wish I’d made it to more of the after parties, but I always had a reason I couldn’t stay, which was a shame, especially when P Diggs got involved. I LOVE Shapeshifter!!!

Sam Blenkinsop – Multi-time Elite winner and current pro rider
I always loved racing the DME, I think because it’s always such an awesome event – and to remember a good friend. It’s cool to see all the old boys that used to race downhill when I was growing up. Everyone is just having fun on their bikes in a good location on awesome trails. Racing in Nelson is always an excuse to have a wee holiday with the family and go fishing and ride bikes. I will really miss doing the Dodzy Memorial Enduro, but we all have so many good memories of the riding and the parties. Winning was always cool, but I just loved being there and riding. I really hope we can go back one day and keep this event alive for Dodzy and us old boys who love racing bikes, purely to get together and have a laugh.

Justin Leov – Former pro rider
Dodzy was one of those guys who was way ahead of his time in the way he thought about and got things done. He was a mate who shared the same biking interests, but we really built a strong bond from hunting together on various missions around the North and South Island. Remembering Dodzy through the DME was something that brought people together to enjoy an epic place ( which he created ) and share the Dodzy Vibe and memories of the good times with mates doing gnarly stuff. That was Dodzy through and through.

Turning forty is a milestone that deserves a decent celebration. A couple of years ago, I was on the verge of hitting the big Four-O, but it was hard to believe… How had I been a ‘grown up’ for that long? When it came to the good times I had on bikes, it didn’t seem I had progressed far from adolescence really!

I’d spent a good part of my adult life riding bikes, and the things I loved about it hadn’t changed since I was a kid; doing skids, hucking off stuff, and trying (failing?) to go faster than my mates – all put a big grin on my face. And, of course, that surge of adrenaline and relief you experience when you ride out the other side of something terrifying.

On the 10th of September 2022, I suddenly felt my age pretty significantly, following a crash that was one for the books. Bike parks often promote the ‘Pre-Ride / Re-Ride / Freeride’ approach to hitting new or re-built trails, and a popular jump line had just re-opened after having some work done on it. I was keen to sample the new features, but I was also in a hurry to get home and keep promises to my wife – no time for pre-rides or re-rides. Bombing down the trail, I overshot a jump at full pace and, looking ahead with horror, saw what was about to happen.

Seemingly out of nowhere, my 40th is just around the corner and, aside from special time with my beautiful wife and cheeky children, there’s only one way I want to celebrate it – on bikes in the mountains (eBike for me), with my mates and my brother. Doing something that, for a while, looked like it may never be possible for me again. Group chat created, keen participants locked in, route and hut suggestions getting thrown around. Lots of ideas are kicked to the curb. Understandably, everyone is concerned about what I’ll be able to manage. I convince the boys an overnighter in the Hopkins Valley is perfect, based on my very faded recollection of a climbing trip there 11 years ago. I sell it as a cruisy pedal up a flat valley, mostly 4WD track with a few shallow river crossings. Sold. Packing starts in earnest, including all the usual bikepacking and camera gear as well as crutches, a bag of meds, and bathroom consumables (if you know, you know… if you don’t, ignorance is bliss). It’s the night before, forecast looks perfect, and I can’t wait. I decide to dig out the photos from that climbing trip, years before. I notice suddenly that the ‘shallow’ river crossings I recalled were actually knee-deep and swift, in more than one photo… Hmmm.

The drive down is great. I can’t believe I’m on the road with mates, heading into the hills, after the year that has just passed. Unreal. It’s a thought that sticks with me all of Friday evening and well into Saturday morning as we set off up the valley. We enjoy a chilled 4WD trail for the first few kilometres, but suddenly we are faced with our first river crossing. It’s definitely not shallow, but it’s not ridiculously deep either… it’ll go. One by one we egg each other on as the acoustic bikes get across with a few near-swims, and a lot of laughs. Then it’s my turn – I’ve done my research on the Turbo Levo’s waterproof rating, now it’s seriously about to get tested. So is my skinny right leg – if I mess this up and have to tripod quickly, there’s a fair chance the leg will just buckle, and I’ll go down with the ship. Stop thinking, start pedaling. I charge at the river and emerge on the other side upright and grinning. The boys are cheering, and so am I. More importantly, the bike is still working!

That first crossing sets the tone for the next two or three hours; weaving our way up the riverbed, carefully looking for good spots to cross, then going for it. The kilometres fall away and our bed for the night, Elcho Hut, is only a couple of km’s away. I couldn’t be more content.

Suddenly, we’ve arrived at a bottle neck. On our right, the river has become noticeably deeper and swifter. Even the strongest amongst us (including an ultra-runner and a 6-foot sheep shearer) reckon it’s dicey, let alone for a bloke with semi- functional legs! We have no choice but to explore options on our left, where the river cuts in abruptly against the bush. Looks OK on the map, just have to link up with the nearby tramping track. The boys can portage my bike along the track for about 500m while I hobble along it on crutches; all good. Except, it’s not…. the boys find the orange track markers amongst an ocean of windfallen trees and thick saplings. Pretty average terrain to push a 23kg eBike through, loaded with gear! Regardless, everyone gives it a damn good go, trying to clear a path, knowing that it looks like our only option. To me, that shows the character of guys I’m privileged to be here with. They have my back, just as they have right through this injury.

I feel a bit helpless, sitting on the riverbed while everybody else is working so hard to find a way through. We regroup, confirming my worries – the bush route’s just not going to work. At this point, I notice the fatigue starting to creep in. I know this feeling after limping home from physio more times than I care to recall, and it means my body is on the gas light. I won’t have the energy to backtrack five hours to the car. Nobody says it out loud, but it’s looking like an unplanned night in the bush could be on the cards. Everyone spreads out on one last recce. We might be in luck: Phil thinks he has found a goaty little route sandwiched between the bank and the river’s edge, about one foot wide in places, weaving under and over fallen trees. Beggars can’t be choosers, so we set out in single file – me on crutches and everyone else carrying bikes in one hand, balancing against the riverbank with the other. So far so good. After about 15 minutes of this procession, we are nearly through the worst of it. The last obstacle, a semi-submerged tree, has me doing my best to crawl/dry-hump my way over it, in an effort not to fall in the drink. We regroup on the river flat, chuffed. The Type 2 fun is over, and we’re looking forward to knocking it off with one last pedal.

The final, grassy river flat has us surrounded by a chain of snowcapped peaks, and it’s a pleasurable bit of riding after the last couple of hours. We all feel the relief at this point, roaring with laughter when Brion suddenly goes over the bars, courtesy of a camouflaged hole. Elcho Hut comes in to view, stoked. The evening is spent glassing for Tahr, taking pictures, swatting sandflies and spinning yarns. We are an eclectic mix of blokes, so the conversation topics are wide ranging to say the least.

I break away from the boys for a bit, camera in hand, and hobble around on the riverbed. As much as I want to enjoy the campfire yarns, I also want a quiet moment to enjoy what’s around me, and reflect on where I’ve come from. It’s been a wild year. I always thought spinal injuries happened to those at the pointy end of the sport. Truth is, we risk an injury of this magnitude every time we swing a leg over our bikes. Despite the issues I still face today, I’m immensely grateful that the injury wasn’t worse, and proud that my body has been able to repair itself to this point. I can’t ride the kind of trails I used to enjoy, and on a bad day, that fact hurts…. But this injury (and this trip) has taught me that just being out in the hills surrounded by good friends and family is what matters most. After everything I’ve been through, the privilege of being in this valley on a clear moonlit night with my bro and my mates, is not lost on me. What a way to turn 40.

CLOSE YOUR EYES. DREAM OF A PLACE BRIMMING WITH ADVENTURE, SET AGAINST ONE OF THE MOST STUNNING BACKDROPS YOU’LL EVER SEE. A PLACE WHERE JAGGED CLIFFS BORDER AN ADRENALINE- PUMPING PLAYGROUND FOR ALL OUTDOOR THRILL SEEKERS. WHERE DEEP BLUE RIVERS MEET AND THE SUN GLOWS LIKE LIQUID GOLD, ECLIPSING THE SURROUNDINGS. A PLACE WHERE THE HARDEST CHOICE IS PICKING FROM A NEVER-ENDING LIST OF SEAMLESSLY FLOWING TRAILS SCULPTED INTO THE HILLSIDE. A “YES!“ TOWN, WHERE A DEEP-ROOTED PASSION IS SHARED FOR ALL THINGS TWO-WHEELED. EVERY FACE YOU MEET RECOUNTING A UNIQUE TALE OF HOW THEY FOUND THEIR WAY TO THIS UTOPIA. ALL AWAITING THE ACTION-PACKED EXCITEMENT THAT COMES WITH THE QUEENSTOWN BIKE FESTIVAL; THE CELEBRATION BOLDLY MARKED ON CALENDARS NEAR AND FAR.

Finding its foundation with pioneering endeavours like bungee jumping and jet boating, Queenstown embodies an enduring spirit that locals have embraced, whilst continually pushing the boundaries – and this remains true today. In the winter months, the sight of snow blanketing the Southern Alps was the perfect way to bring the town’s inhabitants together. However, this was fleeting, and at the first sign of summer, white powder would be exchanged for golden dust. Similar to the miners who once explored the region, mountain bikers found the Whakatipu Basin an ideal place to chase their own gold- dust dreams. As the sport gained popularity, it became increasingly easier to grow this once-niche activity into the all-encompassing community that exists today, ultimately resulting in Queenstown’s transformation into one of mountain biking’s meccas. With a range of trails catering to everyone from the novice mountain biker to the visiting pro, wider Queenstown can boast six bike parks – three of which are lift- assisted – and an unbeatable après-ride scene. What was once known predominantly as a winter adventure hub has quickly become a world- renowned destination for all things biking.

The quintessential peak of the summer season for the resort town is met with the arrival of the Queenstown Bike Festival. It’s almost cliche to say, but the whole atmosphere of the town erupts into a celebration of the mountain bike community. The Queenstown Bike Festival is an annual celebration of various facets of cycling in the area, including races, competitions, and other two- wheeled gatherings. The festival, organised by the Queenstown Mountain Bike Club, has received widespread acclaim each year – captivating the attention of those who may not have been initially interested in biking, while also spotlighting the mountain bike community to a global audience. In the early years, events like the Dirt Masters DH managed to do this effortlessly by catching any last-minute spectators that may not have had the festival on their radar. The race had riders finishing right in the middle of town, down the infamous Brecon Street stair set. Racers were always met with a round of applause, especially if they tried to test their luck and double a set of stairs. The slopestyle, held in the middle of town, was also a crowd favourite. Having a custom freestyle course packed into the centre of town was an impressive achievement, and being able to watch local riders like Kelly McGarry and Conor Macfarlane compete against the best in the world made the spectating even better. Even from its inception, the FMB world tour event was able to attract international competitors to the festival. This, along with the timing of other high level events, like Crankworx Rotorua, gave Kiwi riders a great opportunity to stack up to the foreign talent making the pilgrimage south. As a young grom, the sheer number of professional riders navigating the town at times felt somewhat surreal. Pulling up to any local trailhead and having a good yarn with your favourite rider dissolved any perceived barriers to connecting with these individuals. It bridged the gap, and fostered the realisation that we are all simply part of the same community. Plus, it’s always a pleasure to admire these athletes tackling the trails and enjoying them as much as you do.

The Queenstown Mountain Bike Club’s devoted efforts to fine-tuning the existing trail infrastructure, and creating high level facilities, means riders are offered the best opportunities for progressing their skills. This in turn enables riders to progress their skills more rapidly while still being in a safer environment. This was most evident with the impressive battle in the junior men’s category in the slopestyle event at the Wynyard Jump Park between local groms, Riley Baker (12), and Angelo Decadi (13). Both showed a level of maturity in their riding well beyond their years and let the scene know what is to come in the future. There was also an impressive showing from young phenom, Camden Rutherford (14), taking the overall win in the men’s category at the Skyline Whip Off. To say Camden can whip a bike is an understatement, with some of his whips bringing his back wheel up to his head! He definitely showed up a pro rider or two in attendance.

The improving mountain bike facilities in Queenstown benefit not only the youth rider contingent, but also the ever-growing female scene. As the number of female riders in mountain biking reaches new heights, the Queenstown Bike Festival is committed to fostering female participation while aiding the existing momentum towards progression. The festival wants to build upon the foundation of other local events, like the Future Ground Progression Camp, to create an environment of inclusiveness and inspire more female riders to venture outside their comfort zones and give freeride and freestyle competitions a go. In 2023, the Queenstown Bike Festival Slopestyle was the first-ever female FMB World Tour event hosted in New Zealand. It was a long time coming, with many female pro riders like Robin Goomes and Harriet Burbidge- Smith already using the resort as their training base during the Southern Hemisphere summer. This year’s bronze event, the first event of the FMB season, was used as a stepping stone for riders to gain enough points to compete in the Diamond female slopestyle event being hosted at Crankworx Rotorua. The lure of this chance to compete at a higher level encouraged an increase in participation and gave younger female riders an excellent opportunity to ride right beside their idols, giving them first hand exposure of what these events are really like. The rise in participation was also evident throughout the McGazza Fest weekend of the festival. Seven years have passed since the tragic loss of the freeride legend, yet Kelly McGarry’s pioneering spirit – and his impact on the sport – continue to enhance New Zealand’s standing on the global mountain biking scene. It was very empowering to see Kelly’s legacy continuing to inspire not only a new generation of male riders, but female riders as well. It was remarkable to see the highest number of female riders ever participating in the McGazza Dream Jam, with the standout moment being Robin Goomes’ backflip on the main hit, sending the thousands-strong crowd into hysterics.

Words & Images Riley McLay

Imitation can be a dangerous thing. As a bike hungry teenager, I spent many of high school days hiding behind a computer screen watching the latest mountain bike edits and documentaries. One of the most noteworthy was a specialized bikes mission where ‘Matt Hunter Tours Mont Blanc’. In the video, Canadian Freeride Legend, Matt Hunter, takes a crew to attempt the Tour Du Mont Blanc: A 174 km loop that fully circles the breathtaking mountain that is Mont Blanc. The Tour Du Mont is a spectacular but challenging multiuse alpine route, where hikers and mountain bikers traverse three different countries through some of the most stunning scenery the Alps has to offer. I have always been captivated with the riding in the Alps. High speed single trail that cuts through the Mammoth landscape with ease. This is shown best by Matt and the crew as they make the Tour Du Mont Blanc their own. The way they showed off the different flow and rough terrain made it something I had to tick off my bucket list. Lucky enough for me, I had chosen to spend the 2023 New Zealand winter vanlife-ing around Europe, taste testing as much of the riding it has to offer. The Euro Tour eventually led us to one of the mountain biking meccas: Morzine and the Portes Du Soleil area in France. Reluctant to take a break from the gravity fed action, it was timw to take on the monster. Joining me on this adventure was a good friend of mine, Fynn Thompson. Fynn, a carpenter from Queenstown who has represented New Zealand in triathlon, is no stanger to getting into the pain cave. A few weeks prior, Fynn had completed the hope 1000, an extremely difficult bikepacking route traversing from one side of Switzerland to the other. The only bikepacking experience I had was completing the Old Ghost Road a couple of years prior. With the Tour Du Mont Blanc having 8, 040 metres of climbing, we knew it was not going to be a walk in the park. Especially with the recommended time to complete the loop being five days. With our tight schedule, we decided to attempt the loop in three days.

Our weapons of choice for this mission was something of an exercise in ‘run what you brung’. We had only brought one bike each from New Zealand to tackle anything Europe had to throw at us. Fynn was running a 170mm Commencal Meta mullet and I was on a 160mm full 29er Marin Alpine Trail. Not your traditional bikepacking rigs, but the extra travel would definitely come in handy. Fynn was also running three different bike bags on his bike (on the bars, under seat, and top tube) whereas I had elected to run just a bar bag and a 50 litre hiking pack. I had run a backpack on my previous bikepacking experience; however, I was going in knowing it wasn’t the most ideal set up as you want to keep as much weight off yourself and on the bike as possible. We also planned on wild camping for the two nights on the tour.

After a quick breakfast and coffee it was time to begin. Our first slight descent into Chamonix would be one of the only times our tyres would touch the sweet smoothness of asphalt. The TMB loop can be ridden in either direction, however we chose to do it clockwise as the climbs are a lot more bike friendly and the downhills are more enjoyable going this way. Reaching the town centre at the base of Mont Blanc would give us a true perspective of the grandness of the size of it. Mont Blanc is the highest mountain in both the Alps and all of Western Europe, with the peak situated at 4,807 metres above sea level. Chamonix also acts as an extremely popular base camp for all the types of alpinism activities that the mountain offers. Chamonix was the last place to grab any supplies, so we decided to have another fuel up at one of the local bakeries. Any opportunity to grab food or water was always taken, as there would be long stretches on the track that would be isolated from civilization. Making sure you are eating and drinking enough water is vital in a mission like this. The weather in the Alps can be extremely varied with scorching temperatures one day and fresh snow on the hills the next. However, we were lucky to be hitting a very settled weather window of clear skies and reasonably light winds. Even with us attempting this at the start of September, the tail end of summer, the temperatures were still hitting the early 30s at the peak of the day.

We made our way out of the hustle and bustle and onto the first bit of single track, following the river out of Chamonix for around an hour and a half until we reached the small village of Le Tour. With a chairlift to the top of the ridgeline, Le Tour gave us the only option for any lift assistance on the ride. After a quick discussion, we decided on the purest approach. Proceeding on led to our first big climb, starting on a steep 4WD track following directly under the chairlift. The loose gravel mixed with the gradient was relentless, where it was possible to ride up. It definitely had me rethinking the chairlift decision. Thankfully, the gradient mellowed as it began to zigzag on a harder packed base into the alpine land where local farmers were using the hillsides for summer grazing. The constant ringing of the bells on the cattle added to the atmosphere. Reaching the ridgeline, we approached our first border crossing into Switzerland. This was nonchalantly signified by a tombstone marking the French and Swiss sides of the ridge. No passport checks here. The ridgeline also signified the first downhill of the day. We dropped into a tight rutty-but-flowy singletrack that funnelled us down to the valley below. The flowy meander then switched into an abrupt, increasingly technical drop down to the valley floor. The series of switchbacks would be difficult enough on a normal day’s riding, let alone with us carrying all this gear. As you can imagine, a large descent meant more climbing.

As we pressed up the valley, we switched between singletrack and 4WD roads at a reasonably relaxed gradient. After a couple of river crossings – over some more than questionable wooden bridges – the track began to tighten and become extremely rough. This proceeded for roughly an hour’s hike-a-bike session until the next ridge. We knew these sections were on the TMB as the entire track is advertised to be just 80% rideable. As the sun was setting behind the surrounding hills, we traversed down to the next valley where we tried to find somewhere for dinner. In the small town of Champex-Lac, we parked up at the only restaurant that appeared to be open, right on the shore of the lake. In classic Swiss fashion, we tucked into probably the most expensive chicken burger I’ve ever had but, at that point of the day, money wasn’t something I was worried about. With the last of the day’s light, we made a last push to get another few kilometres down into the next valley before we reached a freshly constructed playground and picnic area. This turned out to be the perfect camp for the night. Clean public toilets and a covered awning to keep away the dew felt luxurious.

The day’s first climb started similar to the day before with a nice ascent up 4WD trail, turning to singletrack the higher we went. In the earlier hours of the day, it felt like we were swarmed by the large number of hikers on the track; the TMB is one of the most popular long-distance walks in Europe, with a majority of its singletrack sections only having enough room for one walker or one biker. This meant there was a lot of giving way, which wasn’t exactly a bad thing as an extra breather made the climb more enjoyable. Entering back into the alpine altitude, the heat of the sun really started to beat down. Unfortunately, this climb was totally exposed and there was no tree cover to hide from the sun. Heat and sun stroke were always in the back of our minds, but we made it to the next ridgeline without issue. This ridge also marked our next border crossing into Italy. “Bonjour” suddenly changed to “Ciao”.

The view into the distance now added a new factor to the vista of Mont Blanc. On the Italian side, the many glaciers that hug the higher points of the mountain are more prominent and visible. However, also visible is the amount they have receded back up the mountain, with bare rocky gullies exposing spots once inhabited by glaciers. A quick inhaling of food and we dropped off into the next valley. This is where things got a bit spicy for me. The previous day, I had felt my back brake starting to fade but didn’t think too much of it. When I started to drop into the Italian valley it was pulling straight to the handlebar and after vigorous pumping I was unable to get any bite out of the brake. On closer inspection I could see brake fluid pouring out of my lever and that I must have blown a seal or two. Inconvenient was an understatement. With no bike shop on the route I decided to just run the one front brake for the rest of the trip. Cautiously making it down, I chose to forgo the next section of trail and boost down the access road to save time and rendezvous with Fynn in the town of Courmayeur for lunch. Luckily avoiding the Italian business siesta, we refuelled, and feeling that I was falling behind on the pace I set out first to try and get a head start. Completing the TMB requires a small amount of navigational skills as you can ride large sections of the route without seeing any track markers. These track markers are shown by either a green or yellow square with the TMB logo on the inside. However, in my overheating and fatiguing state, I managed to not consult my map and rode for roughly an hour up the valley on the wrong side of a massive river. Frustratingly, I was forced to backtrack to the only way to cross the river. This rookie error had put me roughly two hours behind Fynn. After a frantic late afternoon push to make up ground, I found myself traversing a ski field with the sun setting in the distance. Fortunately, I came across one of the many refuges scattered across the Alps and made the call to try and get a bunk for the night. These refuges are manned 24 hours of the day in the summer and often have a fully staffed kitchen. The roast beef, peas, carrots and a selection of local bread and cheeses definitely helped me forget about the mishap of a few hours earlier.

The climb then reached its peak, and we headed over our final border crossing back into France. Standing on the ridgeline gave us the best views of the entire ride; a full 360 degree of European alpine excellence.

Also a treat was the following descent, which was definitely the most flowy and playful downhill of the trip. We approached the township of Les Chapieux where we made a quick stop for lunch. Although a traditional French quiche and salad was not exactly the most ideal endurance fuel, we made do and pressed on to the most gruelling climb on the loop. We nicknamed it “Le Doozy” – 1000 metres of climbing over 8kms of distance. The grade of the trail began too steep to ride, so pushing or carrying your bike was the only option. In the heat of the sun it was pure punishment but reaching the top gave us an overwhelming sense of accomplishment.

Following a couple of rock garden scrambles, we were treated to a 20km descent through varying terrain. The drop in altitude felt never-ending until we finally hit the town of Les Contamines- Montjoie. By this point, I was personally flogged and could feel the dreaded bonk beginning to set in. In a speedy trip to the supermarket for some kai, a couple cans of Coke and a bag of lollies combined to keep the bonk at bay … for now.

At this point, we only had one more climb and descent to go to complete the loop. In my fatigued state, I chose to take a route that followed a more paved road, whereas Fynn followed the marked TMB trail. This was a timesaving strategy, as again we were trying to work with the remaining daylight we had left. We managed to make it to the top of the last set of hills just as the sun had set. With one head torch and two phone lights we managed to navigate a series of overgrown walking trails that lead into the Les Houches bike park. I was in no mood to try and enjoy any of the bike park trails in the pitch black. Feeling close to exhaustion, we started to pass through the glow of street lights and all of a sudden we had returned back to the van, where we had set off two days earlier. Celebratory high fives were followed by a mandatory McDonald’s trip for a recovery feed and some reflection.

The Tour du Mont Blanc was a master class in character building mixed with some of the most beautiful scenery I have ever experienced on two wheels. Did Matt and the Specialized crew make it look easy? YES. But any type of adventure condensed into a seven minute edit is going to have its fair share of sugar coating. I can personally say the pain was worth it and I am stoked to have it ticked off my bucket list.

Words & Images Riley McLay

However, with the sport moving rapidly to a more professional outlook, the qualities that set New Zealand riders apart in the past may not be so fitting in today’s racing climate. Even with some of the most recognisable and world renowned tracks for training and progression, the Kiwi racing scene faces the conundrum of a steady decline in the number of junior riders making their way through to competing at elite level. This could be due to a change to the unpopular format UCI has adopted, or the broader financial pressures faced by race teams and support systems in and around the races. Not to mention the agonizingly close times being laid down by some of the top riders. Amidst these challenges, one Queenstown-based family is on a mission to redefine past conventions and bring a high performance framework to their racing on and off the bike.

The Meek family have always had the mindset that success and innovations tend to grow from humble beginnings. Originally Dunedin based, Kiwis Steve and Donna packed up their lives and moved to Hong Kong in 2003. As a young couple, they sought the adventure and experience of working life as expats. Both avid mountain bikers, they were able to take advantage of the plethora of tropical jungle trails that Hong Kong offers. It wasn’t long before their two sons, Toby and Rory, had arrived and were introduced to a life of riding bikes. The boys would quickly make the jungle their own. As a family, they would constantly add to the network of trails around them, building their own tracks for the boys to hone their skills. The boys adapted to a racer’s mindset, both forming their pedigree from BMX racing – in which they have represented New Zealand at a world championship level, multiple times. The boys bounced between racing BMX and mountain bikes and as their skill levels progressed, Steve became frustrated with the limited options available for bikes for the boys to ride. With most bikes at the time weighing a tonne, they were not suited for younger riders. Steve made it his mission to create a solution so that the boys weren’t being held back and could further progress their skills. It started off with adapting one of Toby’s BMX bikes with a 100mm travel fork, from a 26 inch mountain bike. This created a bike that was far lighter than the mass market kids bikes, and the forks gave Toby more of a fighting chance for riding control when it came to getting down steeper trails. Being a hardtail came with some limitations, but it allowed Toby to go out riding with Steve. Soon enough, Rory also needed a boke, and with Toby outgrowing the capabilities of the hardtrail, Steve took it upon himself to come up with something bolder. Steve went out and sourced a size small Giant Trance and chopped it down to create a custom full-suspension bike for Toby. Resizing an adult frame to accommodate a child isn’t as simple as it sounds. Steve had to formulate the best possible design for shrinking the frame to allow enough stand over height for Toby to fit the bike and be as comfortable as possible. With his firsthand experience and seeing an obvious gap in the market, Steve formed MeekBoyz, a bike company whose goal is to provide the world’s best high performance downhill bikes for children. The MeekBoyz design criteria centred around the bike performance, weight, tailored geometry and, most importantly, a full-functioning suspension system for young riders with capabilities to ride down more advanced trails. Having a composites background, Steve chose carbon fibre for the bike frames and rims. It was a no-brainer as it is light, more versatile than other metals and has long-term durability. Working with carbon is a highly labor intensive task and requires a large work space. Fortunately, being based in Hong Kong enabled Steve to access and set up in the epicenter of the carbon bike industry, in Taiwan and China. Steve is adamant about only putting the best components on his bikes. From years of experience, he knows only top quality parts ensure the integrity of a high-performance bike range. This attention to detail eliminates any unneccessary stress of worrying about equipment and lets the boys focus on the racing.

Toby and Rory’s racing has taken them all over the world. From a young age, they have chased both BMX and mountain bike races across Europe, North America, Oceania, Asia and South America, accumulating a collection of noteworthy results. Rory achieved third in the world – twice! – for his age group in BMX racing and Toby raced at a world championship level for five years. They are no strangers to the UCI world cup circuit either, as they frequented as spectators, and competed in events such as Crankworx Whistler and US Open – where Rory has won his age group twice. The boys were even invited to a surreal experience to race the Longling DH Memorial Event, in Yunnan Province, China, where they competed against other racing phenoms, including Jackson Goldstone. When the boys reached high school age, the family moved back to New Zealand and settled in Queenstown, in search of a more balanced lifestyle and a better base to focus on racing. The family is very passionate about biking not being the be-all and end-all, and feel having a well-rounded worldview is imperative to personal growth. With the pool of talented riders across New Zealand, it can be hard to stay grounded and focus on what is important, but life skills learnt away from the bike carry over and greatly improve results. This is why the boys were always encouraged to chase other hobbies like hunting, fishing, surfing and even kite surfing – which they also excelled in and competed in at a high level. The family model their operations off the Atherton family and admire the success they have, while keeping things tight-knit.

Words by Lester Perry
Images by Henry Jaine

WHILE ON A PREVIOUS TRIP, NELSON LOCAL, KIERAN BENNETT, AND I HAD DISCUSSED THE CHALLENGE OF DOING MULTI-DAY MISSIONS, OR SIMPLY EVEN SOLO OVERNIGHT TRIPS, WHILE JUGGLING WORK AND FAMILY COMMITMENTS. LET ALONE TRYING TO LINE OUR CALENDARS UP TO DO THEM WITH SOMEONE ELSE WHO WAS LIKELY IN THE SAME BOAT. SINGLE- DAY RIDES WERE GREAT, BUT REGARDLESS OF HOW EPIC THEY ARE – OR AREN’T – AN OVERNIGHTER HAS A CERTAIN ALLURE. WE TOSSED AROUND THE IDEA OF ME ARRIVING ON AN EARLY FLIGHT, DOING A FULL-DAY RIDE FROM NELSON AIRPORT TO A DOC HUT FOR THE NIGHT, THEN DEPARTING ON A FLIGHT LATE THE FOLLOWING DAY, AS A QUICKFIRE WAY TO PULL OFF AN OVERNIGHT BACKCOUNTRY MISSION.

Chatting with Kieran, he reckoned Mt Starveall and the Starveall track could be a worthy option, but details were scarce.

I’d heard rumours of people riding Mt Starveall in the past, so went on a hunt for more info. Indeed, people helicopter up to the summit and descend to the Hackett car park. Judging by the couple of aged YouTube videos I came across, it looked like a proper backcountry descent; things were looking positive. The internet offered up further details from people who had done the descent after accessing the trail from deeper in the Richmond Range, although only one blog post gave confirmation that people had actually clambered their way up the Starveall track before descending back down. Without a heli drop, an ascent on Starveall sounded like it may turn into some sort of twisted cross-fit style bike-carrying mission. But there was only one way to be sure: to physically take it on.

Dates were locked in, flights booked, and the route confirmed – there was no bailing out now. Late January, I spied a Strava ride from a friend; a heli drop from the top of Starveall. A few messages backwards and forwards confirmed it was a worthy trip, but also that we were deranged to be considering the hike-a-bike to the top.

Four-twenty in the morning is not a fun time to be woken for any reason, but needs must. By 4:30am I was dressed and had prepared a bottle of hydration mix and a quad shot of strong espresso to get me through the nearly two-hour drive to Auckland Airport. How ridiculous is it that it’s cheaper by a few hundred dollars – and almost quicker! – to drive nearly two hours, pay for gas and parking, and fly to Nelson from Auckland, than from my local Hamilton airport?! An overcooked breakfast muffin and a flat white; the obligatory Cookie Time and black coffee onboard, and after spinning for an hour and a half, the ATR 72’s props came to a shuddering stop outside the Nelson terminal.

With Kieran Bennett laying the initial foundation for my route, it was only fitting that he came along; stupid ideas are best shared with friends and if it all went bad then I had someone to share the blame with. After a few minutes of spinning Allen keys, my bike was assembled. Once again, I attempted to whittle down my gear for the trip; necessities and nice-to-haves. Space was tight and we wanted to travel light. I stuffed what I could into a handlebar-mounted Aeroe drybag, filled every nook and cranny of a CamelBak HAWG Pro backpack with the remaining gear, and we were good to go.

By 10:30 am we were ready to roll, but first; coffee and a butane canister. Butane for cooking, nothing nefarious. A quick stop at Bunnings ticked the final boxes on the admin list, providing the gas for the cooker and coffee for the body. It was game on. Continuing on the bike path, we began the mellow climb towards Silvan MTB Park. The day was warming up and the sun was out. It was here I remembered my sunscreen was still sitting at home.

Winding our way up through the forest of Silvan, our chat was flowing thick and fast. We calculated and theorised how long we’d take to reach our destination: Starveall Hut. It was getting hot and I was already sweating what felt like litres, yet we’d barely put a dent in the day. How long would my three and a half litres last me? If I kept drinking at the rate I was, not long!

As we reached the top of Silvan, we made the first of many snack stops. Half a sleeve of Oreos between us, a muesli bar and some mixed lollies. Over fistfuls of sugar, we broke out the maps again and were speculating how long the day would be. One thing was becoming apparent by this point: we had no accurate idea.

We dropped over the back of Silvan, descending gravel roads into Aniseed Valley towards Hackett carpark and the beginning of Hackett track. The track was a mostly mellow, well-formed affair and, aside from a couple of chunky sections for a few metres, it would be passable on a gravel bike. The track winds its way beside Hackett Creek for 5.8km, then spits you out in a grass clearing at the Hackett Hut. I’m sure the gas cooker and the half-tub of Vaseline that remain in the Hut have some tales to tell. With places to be and bikes to carry up hills, we pressed on. We left the hut and went from the mellow comfort of the gravel trail, to the unkempt wilds of the Starveall Track.

The story goes that Mt Starveall gained its name in the 1800’s after a stockman was looking for a route to drive his sheep from Nelson to Wairau Valley, attempting to dissect the Richmond Ranges rather than take a longer, albeit easier route around the valleys. Reaching the summit of what we now know as Mt. Starveall, he found there was no suitable feed for his sheep. Dismayed, he proclaimed the mountain would “starve all” his flock. Seems the name stuck.

I’m no stockman, and we had no sheep to take anywhere, but as Kieran and I were crossing the river for a third time in only a couple of hundred metres, I was wishing we could “starve all” the people who decided the trail needed to cross the river some nine, or maybe it was ten, times in a kilometre of track. Halfway across the river at one point, we met a hiker descending; a foreigner on his quest to complete the Te Araroa trail (which Starveall track is part of). The look of confusion on his face said it all: he seriously thought we’d lost the plot and was verging on visibly distressed that we were about to carry our bikes up this mountain. We silently wondered if maybe he was right.

I’m still surprised, after so many stream crossings and hundreds of footsteps sketchily balanced atop rocks that were at times smaller than a foot, that – thanks to grippy-soled, modern riding shoes, and us having the balance of ballerinas – we both managed to keep our feet dry!

Leaving the prospect of falling in a stream behind us, the gradient of the trail pitched up. Not just a bit but, for a period, a lot. Picture ‘climbing a hundred-metre-long staircase with your bike on your back’ sort of steep. We were into the meat and potatoes of our mission.