Words & Images Gary Sullivan

We decided to head to the South Island for a holiday because I had just got back from a holiday in the South Island.

I wanted a repeat.

It had been a long five years since we’d last crossed the Strait with our little caravan, and it was an easy sell: Glen is always up for a road trip, and she really loves the West Coast. We booked the first ferry we could get a slot on, hooked up the bach-on-wheels, and hit the road.

That first holiday goes something like this…. Thirteen years ago, a trail was opened that roughly follows a route through the mountains, imagined by gold miners in the 1800s. It’s called the Old Ghost Road, and is a bucket list ride for any keen mountain biker. In fact, it’s such a bucket lister that I rode some of it before it was finished, and could tell back then that it was going to be something special. Nearly everybody I know had managed to organise the time and logistics to get down there, but I hadn’t. Things I thought were more important at the time got in the way. Work stuff, other great rides elsewhere, illness, house building. I just hadn’t got around to it.

Last year, I met up with a friend from Queensland who mentioned he was organising an upcoming junket with some other people. The plan was to do some riding around the top of the South Island, including the Old Ghost Road. I jumped on board.

I met the gang in Wellington the day before we were to make the Cook Strait crossing. John had hired a vintage Toyota Hiace and a trailer for the bikes and bags, which made things simple for me. Get myself to Wellington and ditch my own van at a mate’s place, then relax and ride.

As a bonus, we had time to get a ride in at Makara Peak in Wellington before going south.

I have ridden a bit around Wellington but to my everlasting shame had never made it to Makara, even though it has been in development for something like 25 years. Well, I have now, and it won’t be the last time. It was amazing, and we only dipped a toe in the Makara offering.

The trail builders of Makara hew their routes out of difficult terrain – there is a lot of solid rock to be hacked through. Pedaling out of the main car park, we climbed the sublime Koru trail. It really is a work of art; a climbing trail that is actually fun is a rarity around my way.

Once we reached the summit of the park (which felt like the summit of Wellington), we were treated to massive views, an info station mounted on an outsize bike chain, and even a couple of charging stations for eBikes. I didn’t stick a fork in them to find out, but they looked legit. Just who would cart a charger up there to re-energise for a ride back downhill was not clear, but I guess somebody must.

We took a very entertaining intermediate level run back to where we started, then climbed the thing again via a slightly more taxing route. A few of us took a loop around the high point then jumped on a flow trail back to town. We finished on what some of us reckoned was one of the best bits of trail in our entire trip: it’s called Starfish, and ticks a lot of boxes.

The trip to Nelson took most of the next day, but we still had time to hook up with Mick, a local contact who showed us how to get to Codgers, the trail network closest to town. He led us up another surprisingly pleasant climb to a couple of what Nelson riders consider basic trails. A good way to get oriented, figure out where we were in relation to the riding, and get a taste of the dry and rocky terrain. Back in Rotorua, we have a few rocks in the forest – and we can count them all without having to use our toes. Down here, rocks are everywhere; some are attached firmly to the planet, many are not. In a mellow 18km we still managed an overall up- and-down totaling 726m – that would rank as a big ride back home. Down here, at the ride’s high point, we got a great outlook over town, but also had to crane our necks to look at the peaks behind us, allegedly full of more trails.

There is a mind-boggling selection of riding options down that way, and a couple of days was nowhere near enough to ride even a small fraction of them. We headed out to Cable Bay Adventure Park the following morning. After signing on at a very nicely set up hub, we hooked up with Mick again and crammed 741m of up- and-down into a scant 13km of distance.

We only tackled trails that are tame by local standards, but provided plenty of challenges for me, thank you very much. The first downhill run was called Broken Gnome, and according to my GPS dropped 210m in less than a kilometre. If I wasn’t following a local, I might have chickened out in a few spots but I was already starting to trust the available traction as long as I could stay on the rocks that were firmly anchored. It was steep, and fun. The rest of that ride was a blur, but followed that theme. I have been hearing about a ride near Nelson called the Coppermine Loop for what seems like forever. I was hoping to fit it in while we were stooging around the region. I didn’t expect anybody to suggest doing it late on the same afternoon of the Cable Bay day, but that is what happened.

We headed out at about 4pm. The ride starts with a climb that covers about 20 kilometres at a railroad grade, because that’s what it is. Some 150 years ago, a crew mined Chromite high in the hills behind Nelson, and they used a simple tram line to send the ore down to a depot in town. Horses would pull the empty wagons up to nearly 900m above the town, they would be filled with ore and return using gravity, with a brakeman controlling the pace.

We performed a similar routine, only without horses. And, we used gravity to descend via a much steeper route into a different valley.

The descent into Maitai Valley is half an hour of maximum fun. The trail is dual-use, with signs everywhere reminding you to watch out for walkers. The descent features dozens of beautifully bermed corners which are begging to be railed. There are also lots of rocks. We didn’t see any walkers.

We got back to the motel in the dark, a really big day complete.

Our next destination was Kaiteriteri, a short drive from Nelson and the jumping off point to Abel Tasman National Park. A beautiful spot crawling with tourists and day-trippers, but also hiding a very cool little mountain bike park. Small in area, but with plenty of elevation, it is worth a visit if you are down that way. We started early the next day, to get to the Wairoa Gorge Mountain Bike Park. A visit to this place was another compelling reason to join this junket. It was created, in large part, by a good mate of ours who died way too early. Dodzy was a force of nature, and when he connected, by chance, with a very wealthy guy with an interest in mountain biking, a short-lived phenomenon was born. It’s a whole other story you probably already know, but Wairoa was one of the projects executed by the company formed to develop trails on land the guy owned all over the planet. He moved on from mountain biking, and now Wairoa is owned by New Zealand and leased to the Nelson Mountain Bike Club.

It is probably the most exclusive MTB park in the world. The shuttle-only access to the 70+ kilometres of hand-built trails is usually maxed out at 27 people; the day we visited, there were 18. Two nine-person truckloads of people in a massive slice of forested mountain is pretty much nobody – we felt like we had the place to ourselves. The shuttle is long, and gets riders to about 1200m. The descent is MUCH longer – at the pace I could manage, each run took over half an hour. The trails are graded, and routes have been created using a numerical system to let riders figure out a way down that suits their skill set.

A few of us who rode together, dropped four times – and two hours of riding downhill on fresh trails takes more energy than you might think.

There are three options at Wairoa for accommodation, we were in the largest – a very nice chalet near the base of the gorge. Two other huts higher up look really good too. If you have a gang keen for a weekend away, the Gorge is worth a look.

We tackled the Old Ghost Road as a two-day trip, staying for a night at Ghost Lake hut. There are four huts managed by the Lyell-Mohikinui Back Country Trust which can be booked at the official Old Ghost Road website. There are also two DOC huts, which are first-come, first- served. The LMBC huts are top-notch, and have kitchen facilities with everything you might need except ingredients; there are firebox heaters with wood provided, basic showers, toilets – they are well-insulated and have great locations.

The first day for us was a climb…. 27 kilometres of climbing to Ghost Lake. There is a brief respite halfway up, at Lyell Saddle. We dropped in to the Lyell hut for a snack and a sit-down on the sunny deck, with a huge view over the ranges to the north. A gang of excitable women had chosen Lyell as their first stop on a five- day walk, and they were all either laughing or yelling at each other at once. There were more of them en route, so we were kind of glad to be staying further along the trail.

The highlight of the ride, for me anyway, was the section before Ghost Lake where the trail reaches its highest point at 1344m. Well above the tree line, it sidles along the faces of a ridge, with massive views. We were lucky to have two bluebird days and the outlook from those heights will always be a strong memory of the first day’s ride.

A short drop into the trees brought us to Ghost Lake hut, perched on a ridge and overlooking the distant town of Murchison, where that morning we were buying extra trail food, eating pies and drinking coffee.

I had the foresight to cram a can of beer into my overloaded pack, and I was relieved to find it hadn’t been pierced by anything along the way. I inhaled it on the deck of the hut, feeling extremely fortunate and grateful for everything about the day. It was already cold, and pretty soon it was freezing – literally: when I ventured outside at about 2am for a pee, there was ice on the ground.

John had organised a helicopter drop of food and sleeping bags; the food was freeze-dried and, with the addition of boiling water, turned into something edible. The sleeping bag was absolutely perfect.

Our second day was hard to fault.

The trip from Ghost Lake hut to the finish is 56 kilometres by my count, and descends 1200 metres. There are some seriously cool sections of flowing trail through exceptional forest scenery and I forced myself to stop a few times to look at it. There are also 827 metres of climbing, so it is not an easy day.

The Old Ghost Road was a perfect exclamation point on a quick sampling of the riding in the top of the south.

So perfect, in fact, that I couldn’t wait to do it again. Literally, I could not wait. So I didn’t.

And that is why we headed south a few days after I returned from the first trip.

One of the common themes of the last decade has been a recurring conversation with Graeme, a riding mate. We have talked about riding the Old Ghost Road every summer, and every summer we didn’t get there. Now I had sneaked off and ridden it without him. Another easy sell: we are going down there, we will have a vehicle, let’s get this done.

He signed on, and we set a dateline for the project.

Looking back, it is hard to believe I only got five rides done in a month of wandering around the top of the South, but we were so busy doing bugger-all that that’s all I had time for. Reading books for a start. We try to read books when occupied with normal life, but the luxury of reading one in a single gulp with no stops for any annoying responsibilities is very good. And having a pile of them to get through is even better. We found a reconstituted refrigerator in the main street of Takaka that had become a free book exchange, and we hung around in Golden Bay for a week of bad weather making full use of it.

Loafing along deserted beaches also chopped out extensive periods of time. We are so lucky in this little South Seas paradise, there are so many places that are easy to get to with nobody else in attendance.

Then there are the simple pleasures of doing stuff in a small caravan. Everything takes a bit longer than it does back home. Those are my excuses, but while the rides turned out to be few and far between, they were stellar.

I did a birthday lap of a trail in Whites Bay on our second day in the South Island as a sort of warm up, then spent a few days slacking.

The next outing was another tilt at the Coppermine Loop. The feature of that day, for me, was the feeling that comes with a seemingly endless vista of mountain ranges away to the south of the Coppermine Saddle. There is nothing man-made in view except the trail, and even though Nelson is very close it is hidden and therefore out of mind. It is a ride, but somehow more of an adventure than doing a similar distance and elevation back home.

We visited Kaiteriteri again, had another outing in the great little bike park there, explored Golden Bay between rainstorms, and ended up getting as far south as Hokitika.

The best night of the trip was a simple roadside pull-off, perched on the side of Highway 6, a couple of steps from a wild and windswept stretch of rocks, sand and surf.

My main target for the West Coast leg of the expedition was the Paparoa Track.

We parked up at Punakaiki Campground, an absolute bottler of a place to hang out. Another spectacular beach to explore, Paparoa National Park near at hand, all overhung by massive jungle-strewn cliffs straight out of King Kong.

The campground operates a daily shuttle around to Blackball, where the Paparoa starts. I booked a trip for the following day, and we holed up while the West Coast did what it does fairly often: rain.

The forecast for the next day looked pretty dire, but the day after was not so bad. I switched my booking, and we spent the spare day hiking around in the rain.

When the day arrived, I was up early, packing everything I thought might be needed for a solo ride in remote country. The Paparoa is doable as a single day mission, and that was my plan, but I carted along a pile of food, spares and extra layers just in case it turned into something longer.

The shuttle got me around to the start by about ten. By the time I got underway, it was steadily raining. The rocky trail was drenched. The first ten kilometres is in the forest and, after a short descent, there is a climb to about 1000m that doesn’t let up.

Just before I reached the tree line, I came upon an apparition: two little girls in festive- looking outfits, walking down the trail towards me. They were about six or seven years old by my estimation, and were incredibly cute. One of them politely said, “good luck, you’re nearly there!” I was briefly mystified, but round the next curve was their mother, with an even younger offspring, and carrying an enormous pack. Parenting done correctly.

Soon enough, the trees opened up into the sub-alpine tussock. At about the same time, the clouds lifted, and the first hut came into view.

From there, the trail follows a ridge for what I reckon was the best part of 20 kilometres. It is not easy, constantly rising and falling as it switches from one side of the range to the other; in some places it sketched along the very top of the ridge, only a few metres wide.

Long views back into the Brunner Valley were swapped for expanses of the coast, as the trail stitched a course along the spine of the Paparoa range.

The eventual descent through cloud forest and down into the rainforest below was a highlight of an amazing day. Threading its way down through huge boulders, waterfalls, and crossing a really cool swing bridge, the trail becomes an easy run through some regenerating forest following the Punakaiki River. The final sting in the tail comes with five kilometres to go, a steep little climb that is relieved by the beauty of the forest it clambers through.

We spent a couple of days getting ourselves up to the amazing Gentle Annie campground on the north bank of the Mohokinui River mouth, handy to the end of the Old Ghost Road.

A fairly simple logistical exercise was then executed: I met up with my mate Graeme at Westport, and we drove up the Buller Gorge to the start of the OGR. We ditched the van there, depositing the keys in a locker box for the very accommodating Buller Adventures team to collect and deliver to the other end of the ride.

Our first day on the OGR was a mirror of the ride I had done a month earlier, with the added feature of some constantly mobile clouds in the valleys making the vistas from the tops even more interesting.

Our night in the Ghost Lake hut was entertaining; it was almost at capacity with an even split between riders and walkers. The main topic of conversation was the weather – the cloud closing in as darkness fell looked ominous, but a young fella doing the ride with his parents assured us that if we could get through to the end before 2pm the next day, we would be dry.

Graeme went outside at 2am and came back in to report that it was pissing down.

The dawn was grey and wet. We had a slow start, lingering over coffee while we peered out into the gloom, but eventually it was time to go.

As soon as we were on the trail, the weather became irrelevant. The look of the place was completely transformed. Shifting cloud exposed glimpses of the terrain, just enough to confirm we were on an exposed spine with dramatic spaces below.

After clambering down the very awkward stairs, the ride through the forest was so different to my previous trip that it was like a strange new planet. Everything was wet. Water was everywhere, running down small courses and across the trail, dripping off every element of the forest, and completely soaking us. The trail can handle it, rain is a regular part of the west coast and everything that can be washed away probably already has been, and the rocky trail was never a problem.

In the entire day of bucketing rain the bikes ran like clockwork. At a riverside stop for refueling, we noted how amazing mountain bikes have become. Everything worked, gears shifted, brakes slowed us down, suspension floated us along, seat droppers dropped and returned to their original position. We swapped recollections of bikes that ceased to function on days like this.

Somehow, the weather put an extra layer of meaning on the day. The ride seemed much longer than the dry version, and just as memorable. The van was waiting for us in the carpark at the trail terminus, and I backed it under the little shelter so we could get into some dry gear and pile the dripping carnage of the day into the back for the run back down to Westport with the heater going full blast.

I dropped Graeme off and headed back up to Gentle Annie, where I had a long and very satisfying shower.

I consider myself very fortunate. Besides winning the life lottery of being born in Aotearoa, I have managed to ride my bike in some cool places around the planet. I can honestly say, the opportunities we have here at home are as good as anywhere else I have been.

Words Lester Pery
Images Cameron MacKenzie

At just 16 years old, Ellie Hulsebosch has chosen the path less trodden, in a quest to dominate downhill racing. For the next few years, she will opt for less school and more sport, working to complete her schooling while travelling the world, chasing her dreams.

She makes no secret of wanting to be the best, inspired by ex-world champ and fellow Bay Of Plenty resident, Vanessa Quinn. Seeing Vanessa out on the trails and knowing her history, Ellie was all ears when Vanessa offered up any tidbits of advice: “To be the fastest girl, you have to be the slowest boy” was one such quip, motivating Ellie to ride with her brother and his mates. Ellie points to Rachel Atherton as an inspiration in this vein, a strong woman riding with a host of the fastest guys around: her brothers.

Brought up in a tight-knit, supportive family, Ellie acknowledges their input in helping her push through the hard times to keep progressing towards her goals, no matter what she’s going through. While growing up in Tauranga, Ellie and her family got stuck into all sorts of outdoor sports, but after a stint of motocross, she eventually picked up a Canyon Spectral and took to mountain biking, “because Mum could do it too”.

Keen to satisfy her competitive spirit, Ellie jumped straight into racing. “My first downhill race was in late 2019, for Crankworx in Rotorua. I remember walking the whole track, getting a 7-minute time on a 3-minute track, and being smoked by all the other girls.”

Through 2020, Ellie dabbled in some Enduro racing, winning two rounds of the 2w Gravity Enduro. Then, through 2021, she switched focus to the NZ National Downhill Series, trading blows and podium positions with Erice Van Leuven and Sacha Earnest throughout the season. It wasn’t until November 2022 that Ellie broke cover and launched herself into the limelight with a win in the U17 category at the 2022 Crankworx Rotorua Taniwha Downhill, in a time that put her third fastest woman overall on the day.

By late 2022, she was firmly focused on dominating the downhill game, and got serious about training heading towards the 2023 season. A clean sweep of the summer National DH Series under 17 division was a massive boost of confidence. Unfortunately, her luck ran out on her final run at National Champs, Coronet Peak, in late February. A crash resulted in a stable compression fracture to her T5 vertebrae and ligament damage to her thumb. Fuelled by adrenalin and close to the finish line, she managed to pick herself up and break the timing beam in second place. She finished her NZ season with a National Series win, a silver medal at NZ champs, and some time off to let her body heal before jetting to Europe for her first stint of international racing later in the year.

“Verbier was the first race, and it was my favourite; the track was proper as well.” Straight to the podium’s top step in Verbier was the perfect way to begin her international career. A couple of races followed at Schladming, an iconic World Cup venue that was visited for two back-to-back races. “Schladming was really fun, but they had tapped off all the hard lines, so there were a lot of corners. I wasn’t too happy with how I went there, so as soon as I arrived home, I signed up for BMX.”

Wrapping up her time in Europe at Bellwald, Switzerland, Ellie won the Open division and was the fastest woman down the hill that day. Although she was on the other side of the world in foreign territory, Ellie had become a podium threat at every race she attended, and heads were turning.

In late 2023, Ellie had an email from Joe Bowman, owner and manager of the Union team, and over a few months, a deal was struck that would see Ellie join them for 2024. Joe gave us some background to Ellie being selected for the team: “We’ve always had a soft spot for Kiwis, and I think the whole Union ethos kind of fits helping out people from New Zealand and Oz, because you guys have it a lot tougher, coming over to Europe to race and being away from home so long, that you need a good level of support even to give it a go, let alone to actually try and race at the top.”

“I’ve always kept an eye on Kiwi national results because of Lachie (Lachlan Stevens-McNab), Tuhoto (Tuhoto ariki Pene) and Finn (Hawkesby- Browne) back in the day, and always saw Ellie’s name popping up at the top, through youth categories. When it got to the middle of last year, it was tricky times because we’d lost a bunch of sponsors and money and didn’t really know what was going to happen with the industry. But, at the same time, you’ve got to keep moving on. And we needed to fill a gap and wanted to get a junior woman. Ellie was obviously on the list. I’d also started to hear from a couple of other people about her. Sven Martin mentioned her and actually sent a message on Instagram that I never got until after the fact, that’s pretty funny. That says a lot. And I think just looking at the margins she was putting into people and where she was stacking up against the elites and juniors at Kiwi nationals, kind of said enough.”

After the industry took a dive post-COVID, Joe scrambled to secure new sponsors and funding as The Union headed toward the 2024 season. He couldn’t promise what gear they’d be using, but he was confident the puzzle pieces would fall into place on time, and they did. For 2024, The Union had a complete shake-up regarding their gear, eventually signing to ride Trek frames and Sram/Rock Shox components while decked out in Fox apparel. It was go time!

Joe continues, “I’ve been stoked character-wise. She’s a funny one. She’s kind of a mix of this super confident, smart young woman who’s crazy mature for her age in some ways, but then she’s also definitely still a kid, a teenager, and deals with all the usual stresses of racing and definitely has had some nerves creeping in, which have affected a few races. Just normal racing stuff. She is super smart and loves a yarn!”

Beginning the 2024 NZ season with National Series wins at Whangamata and Rotorua; things came crashing down in Christchurch during round three. A crash in the infamous rock garden while racing “The GC” left her sidelined with a broken knuckle and injured hand. Considering the consequences of crashing in that section, Ellie was glad to come away relatively unscathed and able to continue to fight for the remainder of the NZ National Series.

A sturdy strapping job and some painkillers helped her battle through the Cardrona National series round for round four, once again racing to the top step of the podium. A week later, she backed up that performance to win the National Championships at Coronet. A hard-fought race on a “one-dimensional” track was not one of Ellie’s favourites; she got the job done despite carrying her injuries from only two weeks earlier.

Crankworx Rotorua began Ellie’s journey into Downhill racing. By March 2024, she had gone from walking the track just four years earlier to walking to the podium, taking the overall women’s downhill win on Rotorua’s famed Taniwha downhill track.

With the NZ summer coming to a close, hours in the gym banked, sprints ticked off, a National Series overall win, a National Championship title, and armed with all the tools she needed to succeed thanks to her new team, Ellie set her sights on the World Cup Series and headed to Europe.

Ellie’s debut on the World Cup stage was the Fort William, Scotland opening round. Initially unsure of what to expect, her apprehension disappeared once she arrived at the venue and got stuck right into the thick of things. “Everyone is actually really nice and not nearly as big as they seem on TV, so it’s been pretty cool to talk to people who I look up to, and have them help me out — everyone in the scene is so nice.” She delivered a strong performance despite the challenging conditions. The notoriously rocky, wet, and foggy course can be a brutal monster to tame. Although leaving with third place was not what she wanted, it was a great start to the season.

After that solid start, Ellie headed to Bielsko Biala, Poland, for round two. Conditions were difficult, with wet and wild weather impacting the course and making for unpredictable and difficult-to-read track conditions. Despite her best efforts, Ellie didn’t have an ideal day, falling just short of the podium, under a second back from Kiwi compatriot, Sacha Earnest, who was third.

Another wet and unpredictable track greeted racers to round three of the World Cup Series in Leogang, Austria. A first-place qualifying run banked her solid points for the overall series standings but, like most, Ellie had some bobbles in the steep wooded sections during her finals run, rodeoing her way through the first steep section with both feet off. All was not lost, and even after nearly going over the bars, then getting off line and all but stalling out on the second steeps, she regained composure and got back on the pedals through the wide- open lower sections, finishing second behind Lower Hutt shredder, Erice Van Leuven.

Jumping back over to Italy, Ellie lined up for round four of the World Cup. Val Di Sole’s “Black Snake” course has a reputation for being one of the most challenging and physically demanding courses on the UCI World Cup circuit. The track is four and a half minutes of mayhem, requiring racers to deliver both physically and mentally, putting the risk and pain of the effort out of their mind to deal with the high-speed, technical course. In a pre-season interview, she voiced that the “Black Snake” of Val Di Sole was one of her favourite tracks, foreshadowing events to come. On June 15, 2024, Ellie stamped her authority on the sport with her maiden World Cup win, cementing herself firmly as one to watch for the future.

“There have only been highs this year so far. Things definitely haven’t gone the way I wanted them to sometimes, but I have been learning to make the most of every situation — take the positives and use them to grow — which has really helped when life throws obstacles at you…. which does happen a lot when you are flying down a hill!”

As you’d imagine, racing overseas is not a walk in the park for Ellie as she comes to grips with the pressure and stresses of racing on the world’s biggest stage. “The first few races (of 2024) were pretty hard, just getting really nervous, not eating and, for almost every race, my GoPro (from practice) was faster than my race runs. So I knew what mentally needed to change, and it was just trusting the process and remembering all the work I had done. At Val Di Sole, I just mentally felt good, as well as on the bike. I was starting to ride like me again after working on some stuff in the break between races, so it all came together.”

Round five of the 2024 World Cup saw the circus head to Les Gets in the Haute-Savoie region of France, an iconic, fast and technical track that Ellie would typically thrive on. During an early practice run, she misjudged her speed into a corner in the top sector of the track, ejecting herself over the back of the turn. The resulting yard-sale could have easily taken her out of the race before it even began. With a battered body, she had a slower build-in pace towards her final run than she would have hoped, but she was confident the speed would come when the time counted.

Qualifying on a mediocre run, feeling optimistic for a strong performance, she knew she could tidy things up and find more pace come the finals run. Frustratingly for her, the Juniors race was cancelled after heavy storms hit the area, leaving a saturated and slippery track deemed unsafe to race by officials. Ellie and fellow juniors had to settle for their qualifying positions as a final finish, leaving her in third.

“I think the hardest part has been not having my parents at all the races; they have always come to all my races and helped me, even just having a laugh or when I need a hug.”

Before the World Cup racing kicks off again after a nine-week summer break, Ellie will head to Pal Arinsal/Vallnord, Andorra, to take on the World Championships at the beginning of September. The 2024 Champs will be Ellie’s first visit to World Champs. Following the 2023 Junior Women’s podium sweep by the Kiwis, there’s quiet confidence around the scene that the Kiwis will once again be battling for that top step, and Ellie’s name is firmly in the mix as a contender for the win.

“I love training just because the harder you work, the luckier you get, and no matter what happens, no one can lie about that; if you don’t give up, it will show. It’s also my way to still get benefits but also to have a rest from biking and clear my head.”

With two rounds remaining, Ellie leads the 2024 World Cup at the time of writing. Fellow Kiwi, Erice Van Leuven, is a scant 10 points behind her, and the UK’s Heather Wilson is just another five points back; the season is still wide open, and we’re expecting fireworks come early September in Loudenvielle, France, and the final round at Mont-Saint-Anne, Canada, a month later.

What does the future hold? Well, it seems even Ellie isn’t entirely sure. “For now, I am going to focus on riding my bike and doing well as an athlete and see what opportunities open up for me, and we will see where I go from there.”

During a pre-season training camp, while answering questions on how her surname is pronounced, Ellie grinned and replied, “Ellie Hulsebosch, but Who’s the Boss will do”. This single sentence showed so much about her character, aspirations, and confidence. One to watch for the future, for sure!

Words Liam Friary
Images Cameron MacKenzie

URANGO, COLORADO, IS A TOWN STEEPED IN RICH HISTORY AND VIBRANT CULTURE. ORIGINALLY ESTABLISHED AS A MINING TOWN IN THE LATE 19TH CENTURY, DURANGO’S PAST IS STILL VISIBLE IN ITS WELL-PRESERVED VICTORIAN ARCHITECTURE AND THE NARROW- GAUGE RAILROAD THAT ONCE TRANSPORTED PRECIOUS METALS FROM THE MOUNTAINS. NOWADAYS, HOWEVER, THE TOWN HAS EVOLVED FAR BEYOND ITS MINING ROOTS TO BECOME A MECCA FOR OUTDOOR ENTHUSIASTS, PARTICULARLY MOUNTAIN BIKERS.

Travis Brown is a legendary figure in the world of mountain biking. A professional cyclist since ‘91, Brown has left an indelible mark on the sport through his impressive competitive career and ongoing contributions to bicycle technology. He’s best known for representing the United States in the 2000 Sydney Olympics, but has also claimed multiple national championships in both cross- country and marathon disciplines. Beyond racing, he’s been instrumental in product development for Trek Bicycles, helping to innovate and refine mountain bike designs. His expertise extends to bikepacking and ultra-endurance events, further cementing his status as a versatile and respected figure in the cycling community.

I exchanged a few messages with this local legend, and we agreed on a location for a bike drop-off. I would be riding the new Trek Top Fuel for the duration of the trip, which seemed like an adequate fit for the pedal-friendly terrain. While I had previously met Travis in digital realms, this would be our first in-person encounter. He’s a good dude; our conversation flowed instantly, and he was eager to show me around his beloved hometown of Durango. Brown’s passion for the sport, and intimate knowledge of trail systems —particularly around Durango—make him an invaluable resource for both recreational riders and aspiring professionals. I wasn’t familiar with all the riding zones he mentioned, but I quickly learned about them. By the time our conversation ended, I was thrilled about the rides ahead of us.

The first local ride was a few afternoon hours in Mesa. The pedal from town was short—in fact, just three minutes—before I hit the singletrack climb. Durango town soon lay below as I climbed further into Mesa. An open meadow offered panoramic views, and I took the time to take everything in while sipping water, as the day was quite warm. Turning around, I spotted the Animas mountain range on the other side of town, encapsulating it. The bike proved to be the perfect portal for exploring a new location, allowing me to take in all my surroundings relatively quickly but still at a human pace. I pedalled up the trail and dropped into a new flow/jump line. This was the ideal opener for me to gain confidence with the bike and terrain. I lapped a few more similar trails before heading back to town for a quick shower and dinner.

At dinner I met up with Travis, his wife Mary, from Durango Trails, and Rachel Welsh from Visit Durango. The restaurant atmosphere was nice and relaxed as we talked about the riding history, culture, and development in Durango. The story behind Durango’s extensive riding networks is really about trail advocacy and passionate people, such as Mary and Travis plus countless others.

Durango Trails is a non-profit organisation dedicated to planning, building, and maintaining the extensive network of multi-use trails in Durango. Founded in 1989, this volunteer-driven group has been instrumental in creating and preserving over 500kms of sustainable trails in the area. The organisation works closely with land managers, property owners, and the local community to develop and maintain a diverse range of trails suitable for hikers, mountain bikers, equestrians, and other outdoor enthusiasts.

Durango Trails is known for its commitment to sustainable trail design, which minimises environmental impact while maximising user enjoyment. Their efforts have significantly contributed to Durango’s reputation as a world- class destination for outdoor recreation, with mountain biking at the forefront. The organisation also focuses on education, hosting workshops and events to promote responsible trail use and foster a sense of stewardship among trail users.

The following morning was filled with coffee and breakfast burritos — which became the staple for most mornings thereafter. Travis rode over and offered to show us around Twin Buttes MTB Park. Twin Buttes is located on the western edge of Durango. This trail system offers a diverse range of riding experiences, from flowy singletrack to more technical terrain, catering to riders of various skill levels. The area features approximately 30kms of purpose- built trails winding through pinon-juniper forests and open meadows, providing stunning views of the surrounding landscape.

On the way to the trailhead, we discussed our plans for the next few days, keeping things flexible due to the weather forecast. I visited in late June, which typically marks the beginning of summer in Durango. While the weather should have been more settled at this time, afternoon thunderstorms were prevailing — a pattern more characteristic of July. This meant any high-country excursions would need to be tackled early to avoid the risk of getting caught out in a storm.

Twin Buttes offered some superbly cut singletrack weaving through desert scrub, a landscape characteristic of the lower elevations and more arid regions surrounding the town. Durango’s landscape is a tapestry of ecosystems, with desert scrub painting the lower elevations in muted greens and greys. This hardy vegetation, a hallmark of the Four Corners high desert, thrives in the semi-arid climate. Sagebrush and rabbitbrush dot the terrain, their silvery leaves a stark contrast to the vibrant red soil. Prickly pear cacti add splashes of green, their pads like nature’s armour against the unforgiving sun. As the elevation rises, piñon pines and junipers emerge, their gnarled forms creating a transition zone known as piñon-juniper woodland. This vegetation not only provides important habitat for wildlife but also contributes to the unique aesthetics of Durango’s mountain biking trails, especially in areas like Twin Buttes.

The pedal up was out in the open, which was hot even in mid-morning. Once we gained elevation, we were rewarded with a better perspective of the diverse and expansive landscape we were in. The descent offered a fun, flowy, well-bermed trail, scattered with a few rocky technical sections. The elevation didn’t drop off suddenly, which made for good, fast pedalling sections between descents. I was starting to become accustomed to the Trek Top Fuel and welcomed its superb pedalling ability. Lunch was Mexican food – authentic street-style tacos. I rested in the summer sun as a big afternoon was on the horizon.

The singletrack in the woods is super tight. It keeps you on your toes, or rather, on your game. The line of sight isn’t always there, so you’re riding as much on instinct as on sight. It’s a constant cycle of react, adjust, and send it. Every corner is a new surprise, every straight a chance to let it rip before the next challenge. And oh, the dirt! It was in absolutely prime condition — the recent rain had worked its magic. The grip made me push hard into every turn.

Even though the thin mountain air has you gasping like a fish out of water – altitude is no joke — I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face. It’s the kind of run that reminds you why you fell in love with mountain biking in the first place. The blend of challenge, speed and raw natural beauty creates an intoxicating cocktail of adrenaline and endorphins. As I finally rolled to a stop at the bottom, legs burning and lungs heaving, I was already scheming about how soon I could get back up there for another go. I plonked myself in the carpark whilst Travis pedalled his way back up to the van. Its fair to say this legend was a real host, showing off that good ol’ American hospitality.

We continued that theme with an after-ride stop at James Ranch for a burger, fries and soda. James Ranch is a family-owned and operated sustainable farm nestled in the beautiful Animas Valley, this 400-acre ranch has become a local icon for its commitment to regenerative agriculture and high- quality, farm-to-table food. The burger and fries tasted great as we sat amongst the picturesque setting reflecting on the day we’d just had.

As the thunderstorms rolled in, a rest day was on the cards — and after the past few days of relentless riding, it was welcomed. It also gave me a chance to check out the town, although I had been venturing out there every night for a meal — and often yarns with the friendly locals. Durango boasts a vibrant culture that blends Old West charm with a modern, outdoorsy spirit. This small mountain town is known for its diverse culinary scene, which punches well above its weight for a city of its size. Local restaurants showcase farm-to-table ethos, often sourcing ingredients from nearby farms and ranches. It has everything from upscale bistros serving innovative Rocky Mountain cuisine to laid-back brewpubs offering craft beers paired with gourmet pub grub. The town’s culinary landscape is influenced by its proximity to New Mexico, resulting in a notable Southwestern flair in many dishes. I particularly liked these dishes and it’s just not something we get a lot of in Aotearoa. Durango’s food culture is complemented by its thriving arts scene, numerous festivals, and a strong emphasis on outdoor recreation, creating a unique blend of mountain town authenticity and cosmopolitan sophistication.

Travis pinged me and said the forecast is looking good for an early morning high country ride. I was very excited to get back up there! Travis had cleared his work backlog the previous day and was pumped about this ride. This time around we’d ride a section of the Colorado Trail. This iconic long-distance hiking and mountain biking route stretching approximately 782 km from Denver to Durango. Winding through the heart of the Rocky Mountains, this epic trail traverses eight mountain ranges, six national forests, and six wilderness areas, offering breathtaking views of Colorado’s diverse landscapes. It ranges in elevation from 1,600 metres to 4,000 metres, challenging adventurers with high-altitude terrain and unpredictable mountain weather. The trail provides a quintessential Colorado experience, showcasing alpine meadows, pristine lakes, dense forests, and rugged peaks. The plan was to tackle some of the Durango end of the trail, so we took a longish drive up an access fire road to then descend (well, mostly) back into town. Again, we were back in the high country with thin air, but it wasn’t as high as Engineer Mountain and maybe I was starting to get acclimatised?!

With the van parked, bikes unloaded, jackets zipped up, bags packed and strapped on, we dropped in. The trail was lush, a touch overgrown and a bit damp — but splendid. The thin singletrack cut its way down the mountainside allowing for high-speed sections before zigzagging back on itself. The first part of the trail went by swiftly. Before we knew it, there was a river crossing and a climb on the other side of it. The gradient was relatively good in most spots so at least I could keep my gasping lungs under control. It did take a little while, but eventually we plateaued out with a nicely placed lookout. Lunch was in order — we’d grabbed a few extra supplies from the Mexican joint we hit up before heading out. I unpacked the tinfoil to Mexican heaven in the high mountains. A few riders pulled up and we exchanged yarns. The next part was fast, fun, rowdy and quite technical in places. The trail seemed to go on for ages and my hands and feet were starting to get tired. But, I couldn’t let the fatigue stop me! I was treated to sweeping vistas of the Animas River Valley, lush alpine meadows bursting with wildflowers and dense stands of aspen and conifer forests. The trail kept winding its way down from high-altitude terrain.

This was spectacular and we bombed further down the trail, glimpses of Durango town were seen below. We reached the trailhead rather swiftly after more than two hours of mainly descending. Travis was a trooper and again pedalled back up to fetch the van which was no small feat! I pedalled back into town and stopped for a cold brew en route to Lola’s House. I will be back to ride the full Colorado Trail at some point that’s for sure!

For the last few days, I hung out and rode some of the same in-town locations as earlier in the week. I was itching to get back to the high country, but the weather forecast didn’t allow for it. One last ride with Travis was around Animas Mountain, which is one local MTB park I hadn’t hit up yet. Animas High Bike Park is a relatively new addition to Durango’s impressive mountain biking scene. This purpose-built bike park offers a variety of features designed to challenge riders of different skill levels. The park includes flow trails with bermed turns and rollers, technical sections with rock gardens and drops, and a pump track for developing skills.

Each MTB Park in Durango is quite unique and this one had its own charm. I particularly liked Animas trail’s rock features which are predominantly composed of sandstone and shale, remnants of the area’s ancient seabed origins. These rocks create natural features, obstacles, and technical sections throughout the trail, which had me walking in parts whilst admiring the impeccable bike handling skills of Travis. As for the flora, Animas is characterised by a mix of pinon-juniper woodlands and ponderosa pines, interspersed with drought-resistant shrubs like sagebrush and cacti, and punctuated by colourful wildflowers in season, creating a diverse ecosystem typical of Colorado’s high desert and mountain transition zones. The vegetation is generally sparse, allowing for open sightlines on the trail — and the newly built flow trails are pretty damn fun. There’s a lot of elevation to gain and descend — as with most of Durango’s MTB parks — so ensure you pack good legs! This mix of rocky features and native plants creates a quintessential Colorado riding experience.

After more than a week in town, I finally headed to Durango Hot Springs. I looked over at the mountains as the sun was setting and was incredibly grateful that I ridden in a slither of those hills. I tried to stay present and let this moment soak in (literally). The hot springs were the perfect way to end an amazing week in Colorado’s southwest. The time spent here was made special with local legend and all-round good guy Travis Brown leading me around some of the best spots in his local hood. It really was something to hang with him, ride, eat and understand what makes up the character of this place. His in-depth knowledge of mountain biking and our shared passion for the sport made for long flowing conversations, reminding me that the bike is a great portal for human connection.

In essence, Durango offers a unique blend of historical charm, world-class trails, and a community that lives and breathes mountain biking. It’s a place where the legacy of mining has given way to a new kind of gold rush — one measured in singletrack miles and epic rides through some of Colorado’s most stunning high country.

A poem by Noell Coutts
Images by Callum Wood