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Some would say XC is dead (they’re wrong) and others would say we’re seeing a worldwide XC Racing Resurgence. Word on the street is that livestream viewing figures for XC far surpass those of the downhill, and those tuning in are treated to action-packed racing across all categories at each round of the XC World Cup.

It’s been a long time since we’ve seen a Kiwi XC racer hit the World Cup scene with the impact of Sammie Maxwell. She first appeared on most casual fans’ radars at the beginning of the 2023 season, and they’ve seen her climb the ranks, race after race, to become the World Under 23 champion for 2023, and finish the World Cup Series in 3rd.

Anyone who has been immersed in the sport for the last few years, particularly here at home in NZ will know Sammie didn’t just burst onto the scene in 2023 but has been on this path for a few years. What has brought her to where she is now -a World Champion and a strong contender for an overall World Cup title? We were fortunate enough to dig a bit deeper into what makes this fun-loving, small-town girl with a huge grin tick!

Although not from a particularly sporty family, living in Taupo – just minutes from the lake – an active lifestyle is more or less a prerequisite. Although studious and high-achieving at school, early life was so much more than study and learning. The freedom and flexibility Sammie’s environment offered meant that netball, trampolining, running, Pilates, triathlon, football, swimming, cycling, rock climbing, horse riding and more, were regulars on her to-do list, although she was equally happy to lie in a hammock and read a book. Anything that required energy or had an aspect of competition and Sammie was sure to be front and centre!

“I stayed in Taupo throughout all my schooling and certainly consider myself a ‘small town’ girl. I would enjoy the odd trip to the Mount with my grandparents where we would go to malls, etc but after a few days, the traffic and the shops would all lose their ‘exciting’ factor, and I’d much rather have the quiet Taupo streets!”

It’s commonplace for high-performing female athletes to excel in most areas of their lives, and Sammie is no different, slotting right into this stereotype. Throughout the early years, her inquisitive mind and passion for learning were continually stimulated by her parents; both high performers in their fields -her father an engineer, and her mother a laboratory phlebotomist. For years, Christmas gifts included books about biology and physics. A consistent top performer in her academic group throughout college, Sammie was awarded DUX in her final year. “In year nine, when our biology teacher gave us an assignment on a disease, we could pick whichever we wanted, and just research about it. I chose chickenpox because I had recently had Shingles (both caused by the varicella-zoster virus -Ed.). Being my typical curious self, instead of just reading a few lines of Wikipedia and calling it a day, when I got home from school that afternoon, I went straight to our massive bookshelf and got the five biggest medical textbooks mum had used while doing her study. I read everything I could about the virus, the immune system, the physiology of the disease and treatments. I became obsessed with the amazing ability of the immune system and knew from that moment on that I wanted to work with biomedical science.

“It’s fair to say that my teacher also agreed when the feedback for my report read something like: “Sammie, I asked for a college assignment, not something that looks like an abstract out of a university thesis”.

Sammie’s competitive nature spurred her toward mountain biking. “My brother and dad would go riding and I guess I wanted to be like them and join their adventures. I loved being ‘tough’ with the boys. When I was young, I would always be throwing myself into things my brother was doing – to try to impress him I guess. My dad would always buy us a McDonald’s ice cream after riding, and who was going to turn down a bribe like that!”

Alongside MTB rides with her family, Sammie picked up triathlon, meaning time spent road cycling. But she knew MTB was really where her heart was, even in those early years. “I love both types of riding and the road and MTB community in Taupo is so amazing, I really am lucky to have been involved in both; however, I always knew that when it came to racing, MTB was what I was best at and what I wanted to do.”

Sammie’s enthusiasm for all things biomedical science, and keenness for mathematics, led her to study a Bachelor of Biomedical Science, moving to Wellington to study at Victoria University. She graduated in 2022 with a Bachelor of Biomedical Science Majoring in Molecular Pathology.

While training her intellect at university, Sammie was finetuning her racing craft on the bike, building the engine that has since lead to her success. Balancing a demanding study schedule with a strict training regime is a tough challenge and many an athlete has cracked under the pressure. Sammy powered through and, after graduating, began working in a research lab specialising in mRNA therapies and neurological disease research. She has a bit of a Clark Kent vs Superman vibe; outside of work life revolves around her training, but a quick change of costume, donning a lab coat, and she’s all business. “I have had my fair share of 5am wake-ups for training, and working until 8pm to fit everything in,” explains Sammie.

“I am lucky to have a great group of supportive people around me who can identify when I’m running low on energy (sometimes running on cortisol alone!) and remind me to take a break -often meaning dialling back the training a bit until the energy catches up. It’s hard work and definitely not something I could do all year around, but in the few months before heading for Europe, it’s nice to do one last push of mahi to remind myself how tough the ‘real world’ can be before jetting off to frolic around Europe for summer with my bike. It makes me very grateful when I am in Europe, and has taught me some intense work ethic which I pride myself on. In Europe when I have a big training day, I always remind myself I still have it easy – I could be in NZ doing that ride in the cold rain, in the pitch black at 6am – giving me an energy boost and making getting out the door a bit easier.”

All the hard work is now reaping rewards, but it’s been a long journey. Sam Thompson has been working with Sammie for five years, since pre-Covid times – first through the CyclingNZ Performance Hub but, after its demise, through the NZ MTB Academy. “We saw riders like Sammie prosper and develop exceptionally well under the MTB Performance Hub programme. When that was shut down there was a real gap in the development support network that needed to be filled. The NZ MTB Academy makes it possible to provide these athletes with professional support (coaching, sport science, strength and conditioning), professional guidance and also some financial support, to help bridge the gap from amateur to professional, and then also support them when they reach that professional space as well.”

In 2019, Sammie attended her first World Champs, in the Junior category, gaining useful experience and finishing in 14th. With racing on pause through the Covid period, Sammie used her time to address some issues which were hampering her success. “I have struggled with under-fuelling for a long time and spent a lot of time during Covid working with an Eating Disorder specialist, and psychologists, to get on top of this. So this year (‘23), when I showed up to Europe, I had a lot more maturity and was ready to start racing and recovering like a pro, to get through the season without fading.”

It wasn’t until 2022 that we saw Sammie start to settle into her groove on the world stage; the hard work of the previous years starting to pay off. It’s obvious from her results at the two world cups she raced in 2022 that her build to the top began back then, and was only exacerbated heading towards the 2023 season thanks to her methodical training and self-belief.

Coach Sam commented; “What stands out from others is her ability and belief to never give up, and her consistency of training. I would have trouble finding a session in the last five years that Sammie simply hasn’t done because she’s put it off. She simply doesn’t miss a session.”

Trusting the process appears to be one of the keys to Sammie’s progress. The 2023 season has shown a consistent build right from back in May at the World Cup opener in Nove Mesto where she finished 8th.

“It was always the plan to not hit the season at peak form – especially since this is my first full season, and we didn’t know how my body would react. So we decided to start a bit slower and use the first few WC races as ‘form builders’ to introduce the intensity needed for racing. It was part of the plan to let the form physically improve through the season – but I think the biggest change was just gaining confidence in my ability and working my way through the starting grid.”

Following Nove Mesto, a month later, the World Cup circus headed to Lenzerheide, Switzerland. A confidence-building 6th place for Sammie and a solid build towards Leogang where we’d see a major breakout performance, with a 2nd place in the XCO after a tough Short Track (XCC) race to open the weekend. Two weeks later things were beginning to click in the XCC and Sammie crossed the line in 4th, the perfect primer for the XCO three days later. Another strong ride and into second at the XCO at Val Di Sole. Confidence, experience and physical form were all coming to a head just in time to peak for her season goal: the World Championships in Glentress, Scotland Then, on the 12th of August, Samara Maxwell became U23 Women XCO World Champion! After a dominant ride, distancing the field on the first climb, she eventually crossed the line draped in a New Zealand flag, having made history; the first Kiwi woman to win a Cross-Country world championship.

“In the days leading up to Worlds we had made a minor suspension change, but everything else was pretty much the same. I think just steady training for a few weeks with some good days over the local ‘cols’ and riding with Ben Oliver helped a lot; I accumulated stress on the bike but Sam (coach) and I were also watching closely because we knew the worst thing we could do would be to accumulate too much fatigue and dig myself into a hole before the event which can easily happen during pinnacle points in the season.

“I was lucky also to have the help of Louis Hamilton in Scotland; he showed me the best lines to take on the course and, as a privateer, this is something I don’t have access to at World Cups, so I owe a lot of my success on the day to him!” Sammie now had the spotlight firmly on her as she steamrolled into the remainder of the season. Heads were turned and everyone wanted some time with the “fresh face” in the pits, who they’d seen grow and develop quickly through the early season. Her secret was out and she thrived on meeting and chatting with so many new people who were discovering this fun- loving, Kiwi world champion for the first time.

“The people are amazing, and the sport is growing so much -it’s awesome! Changes to broadcasting this year allow people back home to watch my races and that’s helped increase the number of people following the sport and created a very exciting atmosphere at events. The girls I race with are amazing and I’ve met some amazing friends this year -I am just so excited to watch this sport develop over the next few years!”

Prime conditions and a strong race in the XCC rewarded her with second place at the opener in Pal Arinsal, Andorra. Sammie’s first outing in the XCO World Champs stripes would come a couple of days later, and in the toughest conditions of the season so far. The venue was hit with storms in the hours leading up to racing, forcing schedule changes (meaning no live feed) and leaving the course sodden and slippery. The form was there but conditions -and the venue being at over 2000m elevation –meant Sammie couldn’t unleash what was required to be back on top, finishing a credible 4th place.

Les Gets was next on the calendar and another dominant display in the XCO where she effectively put her competition to the sword on each climb, putting the group under pressure every time the gradient tipped up. After multiple lead changes throughout the race, Sammie finally made it stick on lap three, taking the lead once and for all, and maintaining a 30-second lead. It wasn’t all said and done, however, and she narrowly avoided catastrophe; crashing on a grassy off-cambered corner in the closing minutes of the race. Fortunately, her gap to second place was enough, and she limited her losses to cross the line with a stellar dance move finish line celebration and take her first World Cup win!

Never one to completely relax, Sammie has taken up learning French this season to keep her mind busy between racing and training. In years to come she’ll be getting plenty of French language practice, after a mid-September signing to high profile, French-based team, Rockrider Ford for the remaining 2023 races, and through until 2026.

“It’s been a dream ever since I can remember to be a professional cyclist. I’m beyond honoured to say, that thanks to Rockrider Ford Racing Team, this dream is finally a reality. I already feel so at home in this team and have had the biggest, warmest welcome. It only makes me more excited to see what we can achieve in the future together.”

With all of the downsides of being a privateer now being taken care of, Sammie can focus solely on being a professional athlete, no longer stressing about having no income while racing across the world. With the mental load of finances and logistics now removed, preparations for next season are already underway. One of Sammie’s goals is to improve her technical descending, an area where she and her coach identified she’s been losing time to her competitors.

Sammie came out swinging at the debut race for her new team in Snowshoe, West Virginia for the XCC World Cup Round 7. Another solid race battling Ronja Blöchlinger for the win but narrowly missing out, finishing second. Snowshoe’s XCO race shaped up to be another epic battle with Blöchlinger, but this time it was Sammie who came out on top. It almost wasn’t to be though, and she narrowly avoided a huge crash on the opening lap, washing the front wheel out on greasy rocks and colliding with a tree, fortunately she stayed upright. Sammie put in a cracking ride, regaining her composure to go blow for blow with Blöchlinger in the early laps. Sammie continually pulled time on the climbs, and by the mid-point of the race had taken lead for the final time, growing the gap for the remaining laps to take the win by a minute, marking a perfect start with her new team.

Next up was a trip across the border to Mont-Sainte-Anne, Quebec, for the eighth and final race of the 2023 season. Blöchlinger rounded off her perfect XCC season with her eighth win, just pipping Sammie for the win again, and collecting valuable overall series points. The XCO race saw the toughest conditions of the season; rain had set in, making the technical course even more technical for even the most skilled riders, leaving them battling not only each other, but the conditions and course as well. At times, the race looked more like a duathlon than an XCO with most riders taking to running sections at times. Thanks in part to Stephan Tempier’s line coaching, Sammie rode the technical sections confidently.

“I was able to ride everything in the wet, even really tough sections that the elite were crashing on, so that was a huge positive. It meant I felt safe and confident and was able to have sooo much fun slipping and sliding my way past people!” Proving her mental resilience after a start loop flat tyre; she chipped away at the field for the entirety of the race, eventually finishing fifth, securing herself third place in the overall series and cementing herself as one of the world’s top XC riders. When asked about any wisdom she wished she had known earlier in her career, and what tips she’d pass on to other young women looking to break into the World Cup circuit, Sammy offered some clear advice:

“Never feel like you’ve got to make sacrifices or suffer unhealthily to succeed. In our heads, we often think elite athletes are insane people who have super-human abilities to suffer, and when it comes to physical training yes, they do suffer, but when it comes to their mentality, the top-of-the-top athletes protect their mental health above all else, and this is something that’s taken me a while to figure out. If our brain is unhappy or starved of the joy and energy it needs, we will never be able to perform at our true potential. So always make sure you are looking after your body and giving yourself the rest you deserve! Plus, eat the damn dessert! I spent too long turning down yummy foods because I thought it was what a real athlete would do – when in reality, ice cream is your superpower! “What it takes to win should be sustainable and enjoyable. You need to believe in yourself, and you can’t do that if you keep feeling like you are having to change the way you function or change what you want to do to succeed. It should come naturally. I can say I wasn’t acting any different for my lead into Scotland than I was during the middle of winter last year in NZ – once again it’s just a matter of trusting the process, loving what you do and enjoying yourself while you put in the work!”

No one gets to the top alone, and it takes a village to support an athlete as they work their way there. Sammie wanted to pass on a special thanks to all who’ve helped and supported her in this journey so far.

We’re excited to watch her develop and see where Sammie’s career takes her as she steps into Elite for the 2024 season. One thing’s for certain: that grin of hers will be showing up in race coverage for many years to come!

Words & Images Jake Hood

Our day started early. We packed up all our stuff, and left behind the items We didn’t need to take up royal. then we set off. the morning started With a tiny bit of technical sWitchback trail, then an off-the-bike hike down a cliff to the riverbed below. the dirt Was a lot drier than the day before, Which Was a good thing because it seemed like the day was going to be technical.

We hit the riverbed, crossed a small stream, and reached the start of the Mt Royal walking track. To begin with, it was a bike-on-your-back approach -we were literally climbing up a cliff face with our bikes. The rock we walked on was covered with moss, and we had to think about where we were walking and where our next step would land us. Once we got past that point, it was just a pretty steep, relentless push for about an hour before it mellowed out. It was one of those hills that is steeper towards the bottom and mellows the further you go up. The soil changed as well. It was pretty clay-like at the bottom, very slippery in the wet. The further up we got, the less present the clay was in the soil, giving it a more predictable nature. The foliage and cornflakes (some might say ‘loam’) that covered the trail seemed to get thicker as we gained more altitude. You could tell this trail wasn’t used that often; it wasn’t a worn-in, obvious track like many of the others in the area. There were a few times we lost the track on the way up. The trees were spaced pretty far apart, leaving heaps of space to hold it wide open on the way down. The trail wiggled its way up the mountain, covered in a spiderweb of root gardens. Some of them had huge roots that created large steps to get over, potentially causing a wheel stopper or going over the bars. I later found out this was the case.

Near the top, we stopped for a spot of lunch. I think we’d have been pushing up for about three hours or so by that point. It was pretty hard going. We stopped at a beautiful little opening in the trees that gave us a great view of the Richmond range. Mt Fishtail lay just before us. What a mountain that was. Lunch chat consisted of more talking shit about Bradshaw almost bailing and how good the DB Draught was going to be at the pub that evening. You could see the top of Royal from the spot. We had to descend along a ridge for a little bit before the final push up into the rocky alpine. It was going to be about an hour to the top.

No one wanted to descend the ridge first; it was pretty damn steep -and none of us knew how slippery it was going to be. The track sort of just disappeared, and it was a bit of a pick-your-way-down, trying to find places where you could get some good braking in. Turns out that going first was probably the best option, though. The locked rear wheel scraped off all the good foliage to brake on, and left behind slick black sludge. If you locked the front brake on this, you would know about it – but it was fun to pick our way down.

As we pushed up the last stretch, the trees started to thin out and the trail was more defined from here through the rock and scrub -nature hadn’t taken back the track like lower down. It was a bike-on-the-back hike up through the loose big rocks and some nice big bits of slab which made up the trail. My legs were starting to feel numb and heavy on the very last bit of the push; that pre-bonk feeling. Thank God the top was close. As we rounded the final bit of the mountain to the summit, the wind started to howl. It was strong, and our bikes acted like sails in it. The last stretch was a small walk along the flat to the top. Woohoo! We had made it to the summit of Mt Royal.

It was a clear day, and you could see for miles. There was a blue haze over all the hills. To the west, Mt Fishtail basked in the sun above the rest of the Richmond Range. To the east, you could see Blenheim, the Cook Strait, and the very faint outline of the Wellington coastline. The 360-degree views were stunning and the endorphins were kicking in – that high you get from reaching a summit. High-fives and hugs were thrown about, with smiles all around. These are the moments we do this for. Well, that and the fact we had a flipping awesome descent back down to the hut ahead of us. The howling wind was pretty chilly, so we chucked on some layers and found shelter just off the top, behind some rocks, to enjoy the view for a bit before we headed back down. You have to savor these things.

It wasn’t long, though, before the chat ended up being about cold frothy beers and food at the pub later on. How good were those beers going to be? This thought quickly prompted us to get back on our bikes and start heading down. Off the top, you have to ride along the flat, leaning your bike into the side wind until you start tipping into the trail. Paul, Scotty, and Cappleman were keen beans and started attacking the rocky shale alpine. Big long rock slabs covered in wheel-sized cracks, with drops off them into foot-sized loose rocks that moved below your wheels, made up the track. There were a couple of switch-back turns which made it even more fun. The sound of the terrain moving below your wheels while your bike danced through the chunder was delightful. Bradshaw was making light work of it on his hardtail, with a massive smile on his face. As the vegetation started to appear, the surface became more gravel-like, and the trail became more defined. Scotty, Paul, and Cappleman were off on a mission. The trail flowed along the ridgeline, turning left and right through the scrub. It had small undulations that you could use to pump or pop off. The surface was soft and gravel-like with some rocks and cornflakes mixed in. My bike felt amazing -the suspension was just fluttering along through this stuff, tires were hooking up a treat as I weighted the bike into the turns. You could feel the side knobs carving into the loose ground.

As the Beech forest thickened, the trail started to steepen. We stopped at this steep roll feature that we had looked at on the way up. It looked like a goer, and the way around looked pretty ugly. It was just a matter of if we would be able to stop after. How much speed would you pick up off of it? Would you be able to slow down before the turn into the next shoot? Paul tipped in first and greased it, making it look easier than it should have been. From there, we all hit it. It was a fun feature. In the dry, you could have hussed off it.

The trail eventually led to the point where we had to get off and hike back up to the lunch spot. From there, it was all downhill back to the river. What a time to be alive. The trail followed the ridge along for quite a while; not super steep, just enough of a gradient to keep the speed up without pedaling. The faint trail flows through Beech forest and is covered in deep, mossy foliage. The occasional fallen tree covered the track, but some logs had been placed in front of them, turning them into a feature to huck off. We whistled our way along the ridge, freeride flicks happening everywhere, foliage and sticks flying from the tires into the air. The bikes danced over the slippery roots and rocks that lay beneath. The trail would go from flat out to a few slower speed turns and back to flat out. There were whoops and hollers coming from everyone.

One ridge led to another, and things started to steepen up. Just off the ridge was where the trail took us. It was steep, covered in deep leaves. The trees were sparse, and turns in the trail were long and sweeping. This was my favorite bit of the trail. The dirt was super slick under the leaves, and you could drift around the turns with your foot off; opposite locking on the way in and letting the back wheel slide out on the way out. Just left, right, left, right. It was amazing. So much fun. I just could not wipe the smile off my face.

After that bit of speedway fun, the trail popped back out on the ridgeline. You then work your way through a long section of janky rocks, which meant travelling at a slower speed than what we had ridden so far. Thinking about lines was key: be precise. Momentum did help, but going at it full attack wasn’t going to end well. Personally, I love this stuff. It’s a challenge to ride. It takes skills, balance, and confidence to get you through.

After that bit of tech, you come off the ridge and back onto the face of the hill. It was a bit of a choose-your-own adventure at times since the track just disappeared at points. We were just pointing our bikes down the hill and following our noses till we found the trail again. Fallen sticks cracked and snapped under our wheels – it was a lot of fun. The further down the trail we got, the more technical it got, and the speed started to reduce. The huge wheel-trapping roots started to come out. You had to be on your game; think about your line, commit, and hold momentum through these. One of these wheel-trapping root sections caught me and sent me out the front door. Luckily, I was okay and landed in the soft foliage.

The steepest part was the last – and potentially the sketchiest – bit of trail. It got really steep, with huge steps into compressions. The dirt was clay, so grip was at an all-time minimum. We rode some of this, but the compressions were hard on the body, and you really had to find a flat platform to come to a stop to control your speed. The green, mossy clay dirt was doing its best to help the tire slip and slide. The bottom was so close, and you could see the riverbed…. and also the cliff you would ride off if it all went wrong. Sensibly, at this point, we decided to get off and hike down the last part. It just wasn’t worth the risk. I even managed to slip just pushing down, which resulted in my falling on my bike and bending the derailleur hanger. Shit. It wasn’t good. It looked fairly bent, but I would have to assess it back at the hut.

We scrambled down the last bit of cliff/trail to the riverbed. Fuck yeah. Royal was done. What a trail that was. Different from everything else I have ridden so far in the Richmond Range. It just had so much variety. It was wide and fast with some tech features mixed in, and less scary to ride than Fishtail or Riley. God, it’s amazing what you can do on modern mountain bikes these days. Bradshaw was the man of the match on his hardtail. What a guy.

The day wasn’t over, though. We had to get back up to the hut, pack up and load up the bikes, then get out to the Canvastown pub. There were still a few hours of hard work ahead. We crossed back over the small river and scrambled our way back up the basically-a-cliff-face to camp.

“I’m glad you bullied me into coming up. That was fricking epic,” Bradshaw jokingly said. It really was. Back at the hut, we loaded up the bikes. Well, Scotty, Paul, Cappleman, and I did. Bradshaw instead decided that he was going to completely unpack everything and repack it all again, which might not sound funny but, when he’s doing it in his underwear (for some reason), flailing around like a wobbler in the long grass, which was very bee and wasp-populated, it made for some very entertaining watching. Especially every time he got stung. We were in stitches. “What are you doing?!” we yelled at him. After about 15 minutes, we got bored and headed off onto the trail out, as we didn’t want to get stung. It must have been another 15 or 20 minutes before Bradshaw joined us. Wobbler of the Week, right there.

Seven kilometres of trail lay ahead of us, back to Butcher Flat campground, then a 15km ride to the pub at Canvastown. By this point, we were all pretty tired and over it. The inevitable come down from the high was happening, and the next part was going to be a bit of a chore. It’s funny how many emotions you go through on these big days. As we headed back out on the trail, I could feel that my legs were pretty weak. The hiking up had taken it out of them. I had to walk the steep pinches in the trail as the bent hanger had taken away the ability to use the top gear. Amazingly, the rest of the gears were fine. I was going to have enough to get me back to Picton. The SRAM AXS is pretty damn great. I just got my head down and pushed through. It wasn’t a super fun trail to ride out, more of a means of getting somewhere but, after about an hour, we arrived at the road back to Canvastown. The pumps got wiped out. Tires inflated to near maximum PSI for extra rolling speed. Time to grind this road out.

Something must have come over Paul and Cappleman because they decided to set off at a blistering pace, leaving the rest of us behind. I had my headphones in, listening to a podcast, and sort of just hit the road at my own pace, spinning up the climbs and pushing a bigger gear on the flats. Scott and Bradshaw were a little ways behind on the road. I think their legs were dead. I just got my head down, zoned into the podcast, and spun away. I made sure to enjoy the place I was in. This valley reminded me of my home back in Scotland; very green, lots of farmland, and pine tree forests. Having ridden the road the day before, there were certain landmarks I recognised, giving me an idea of how far to go. Boy, I was excited for a beer at the pub after this big day. As I passed Bradshaw’s grandparent’s hut, I knew it wasn’t far – just 2km or so. By this point, Scotty and Bradshaw had caught me up, and we got in a chain gang. A second wind must have hit us because we started hitting it hard. The pace increase was insane. The pub wasn’t far away; it was in sight, like a glowing beacon of happiness.

The bikes got parked up. Paul and Cappleman had found a good seat and were already on the beers. DB Draught was the only real choice. Now, I’m a bit of a beer snob, but there is something great about a cold DB Draught after a big day. I think it’s just made even better by the fact you’re drinking it in this old, rural pub. The pub had recently been taken over by new owners, and the place was pumping with regulars. It had a very homely feeling. Somewhere you could just settle in for a big shift, and that’s exactly what Paul was doing. The man was putting them away like they were water. By the time I’d finished one, he would have done two. It was a bloody great drop though; refreshing, crisp, just perfect. We settled in and reminisced about the day. It had been so great -awesome crew, amazing trail, and just the perfect amount of struggling. How good.

After a few more pints and an amazing dinner at the pub, the beer buzz of bad decisions kicked in, resulting in us getting a box to drink back at the hut that night. As it was starting to get dark, we hit the road back to the digs in good spirits. Back there, the box opened, and we continued into the night, with Bradshaw providing the entertainment again by unpacking and repacking everything as we watched him struggle. “What are you doing?!” we yelled, again.

The next morning, we were woken early to the sound of Bradshaw leaving. He was off early to ride to Nelson before a storm rolled in. The rest of us slept in a bit longer due to slight headaches from the beers. Today was going to be the easiest of the lot – we just had to get back to Picton before 6pm for the ferry back to Wellington. It was another overcast day with breaks of sun; not too hot, not too cold. Great weather to work our way back around Queen Charlotte Drive. My legs were feeling good this day for some reason; strong, powerful. I wished they had been like that over the last two days. It would have made life a lot easier. We stopped off in Havelock for breakfast and picked up some stuff for lunch. The pace was kept steady. We had all day to get to Picton. No big rush. It let us just enjoy the day and the ride. Really soak up the beauty of the place. We stopped at Ngakuta Bay for a swim in the sea, and lunch. The sun was out. The sea was the perfect temperature. Just tremendous.

The final 11km were stunning. One last climb before descending into Picton. I had Hybrid Minds playing in my earphones as we knocked off the last bit. The perfect soundtrack to the last bit of this adventure, speed tucking our way down the wavy road to Picton. The lush green canopy of trees and the views of the bays, mixed with the euphoria of completing this mission, made for a magical moment. What a time.

We stopped for a quick look at the viewpoint overlooking Picton before we rode down the road into town, grabbing the bag of clean clothes we had stashed two days earlier out of the bushes. We had done it. The Royale with Cheese ticked off. Another mission done, and it was yet another great one.

We had a couple of hours to kill before the ferry, so we got some second lunch, went for a swim in the sea again, then downed a few pints in one of the waterfront bars. We chatted about the mission we had just done; it wasn’t as hard as Ferry to Fishy, but it was a further distance. Breaking it into three days definitely made it a more pleasant experience. The ride around Queen Charlotte Drive was far nicer than the main highway to Fishtail. This time it seemed like the perfect amount of Type 2 fun (although you could argue that the more Type 2, the bigger the reward at the end). Royal was an absolute treat to ride, and getting to tick off some of the Wakamarina was a huge bonus. You couldn’t have asked for a better crew as well; just the best. We left the Capital on a Saturday morning, rode kilometres into the backcountry, rode a big mountain, rode back – and we were going to be back in the Capital by Monday evening. How good! Weekend adventures done right.

We boarded the ferry back to Wellington, found some good seats, and settled in. We hadn’t even made it out of the Sounds before we started talking about what was next. What’s going to be the next one we tick off? We have a few ideas in mind…. Watch this space.

Words & Images Jake Hood

“There’s no such thing as bad weather, just inappropriate clothing,” This is a common saying that’s thrown around in Scotland. Well, whoever said that is a flipping idiot, I thought to myself as the rain hammered down on us at the start of the men’s DH final in Fort William.

The rain drenched everything in sight, showing no mercy; not even my triple Gore-Tex 50,000 waterproof Montbell jacket stood a chance. Welcome to Scotland.

This year would see the inaugural edition of the UCI Cycling World Championship. Yes, there have been World Champs before, but this is slightly different. Instead of just select events being held in different places worldwide, it would all be condensed into one country over 11 days. There were 115 events and 101 para- events over 13 different disciplines. There would also be a medals table for the countries competing, like the Olympics and (also like the Olympics) it’s to be held every four years. The inaugural one was to be hosted by Scotland.

With a big break in the Enduro World Series between rounds, it seemed like no better time to head back to the motherland to watch some events. It had been four years since I was last there – four years too long. I’d almost forgotten that it rains a lot in Scotland, though I was quickly reminded during my eight week stay. I managed to only get three days without it raining, to some degree, throughout the day.

The downhill was going to be held at the world-famous Fort William track. It has been a staple on the circuit for years. My first experience of being at this place was the World Cup in 2005 as a young lad. It was a magical place. I was in awe of the pits, the riders, the bikes, and the track. The place was packed with people and, walking around the pits, I would stare at the bikes for hours, fascinated by them as well as the riders fly down the track at stupid speeds. It was incredible as a young lad. That year, Steve Peat won and I’ve never heard a sound like it when he flew across the Visit Scotland jump into the finish area. The crowd erupted in noise that built in a crescendo until he crossed the line and won. At that point, it was like an explosion of sound and emotions. It was defining. People cheering, banging things, blowing horns. I get goosebumps even just thinking about that moment. When people talk about being at Fort William WC, they often talk about that energy.

Fort William last held the Downhill and XC World Champs back in 2007. I was at that race as well and it was a wet, wild week. Sam Hill dominated the men’s field to take the win, and Sabrina Jonnier won the women’s, but it was Ruaridh Cunningham (the Scotsman) who stole the show by winning the junior males DH and giving Great Britain its first rainbow in downhill.

I forgot just how beautiful the drive up to Fort William is if you head via Glencoe. The rolling green hills and farmland of central Scotland gradually turn into dense woodland, sparse heather-covered mountain areas, and sparkling lochs. It’s a beautiful drive that is very popular with tourists. As you enter Glencoe, you are greeted by towering, almost vertical, mountainsides that enclose the road. The valley floor is lush and green, crisscrossed by streams and rivers. Waterfall’s cascade down the mountainsides, and the atmosphere is one of wild, untamed grandeur. It’s a landscape that exudes both awe and a sense of isolation, but it’s also a reminder that it’s rugged up here. You have to respect the landscape, or it will bite back. Admire it, but treat it well. A short time after you finish driving through the glen, you arrive in Fort William. Above the town towers Ben Nevis, the highest mountain in the UK. It’s sparse and covered in rock. From a distance, it doesn’t look like there are any signs of life on there and it serves as a reminder that you’re in the Highlands now.

The respect you have to treat the outdoors with transfers to the downhill track on Aonach Mor. It sits three mountains over from Ben Nevis. It’s a historic track; rugged, hard and fast. A course of three parts, it’s 2.9km of bike-smashing, arm- pump-causing, leg-burning hell of a track that descends 547m. The top half weaves its way through the open moorland and its surface is made up of gravel, granite slabs, and rock. Rock graders litter the way down the track. It’s unbelievably rough. Spectating trackside, you often hear the sounds of rims being smashed into the super hard granite. You do not want to crash up here. During race day, spectators will walk down the track through the moor, trying to avoid the bogs and slipping in the peaty soil beneath their feet. I, for one, didn’t manage this and took a few tumbles. After the open section, you make it to the most technical part of the track, the woods. By this point, your arms and legs are burning. You’re struggling just to hold on, but you have to navigate your way through the twisty, wet, muddy, root-infested bit of track before holding as much speed as you can onto the motorway. You might not win the race in the wood, but you can certainly lose it. One mistake could cost you a lot of time. Finally, you make it to the motorway. A long run into a hip jump catapults you into the row of jumps that guide you to the finish area. It may seem like the simplest bit of track, but it’s proven to be a very crucial part of the race. Races have been won and lost here before. To finish off the track, you jump into the finish area before descending down the “wall” into the last jumps and drops of the track before you cross the finish line. It’s a savage track, unique to everything else that gets raced, one that always provides thrilling finals.

Though it is remote, people from all over the UK flock to this race. It’s incredible just how many of them make the trip. On race day, there’s a sea of people throughout the pits and up the hill on the track. Sometimes it’s hard to stroll through the pits because of the number of people. The UK fans really get into it; some dress up in crazy outfits, and some dress down. Occasionally, you get the odd streaker. The true spirit of the event, though, is the wild camp. Located not far from the event, a 20-minute walk maybe, a large farm field gets turned into a campground for the weekend, with a mix of tents, vans, and campervans. It has real festival vibes, and huge parties happen there that go on until the wee hours. People wake up hungover only to continue drinking to help get them ready to watch the racing of the day before continuing to get back on it for the rave that evening. It’s a non-stop party all weekend.

There are a couple of essentials you really need to pack if you decide to come and watch this race. First of all, bring your waterproofs. At the end of the day, we are in Scotland, a country synonymous with bad weather. It might be forecasted for sunny skies throughout the week, but this is the Highlands. The weather can turn on a dime. So be prepared and pack those waterproofs. The other essential, and I mean essential, is getting yourself some Smidge. What is Smidge, you might ask? Well, in Scotland, we have these little pests called midges, which are basically tiny flies that love to bite you. They truly are pests. They will swarm around you, biting you all over. No part of you is safe. If you’ve been to Scotland, chances are you will know how bad they can be. They suck, but Smidge is a spray-on repellent that keeps these little insects at bay. I’ve warned you. Don’t get caught out because you will know about it.

The weather was on and off throughout the week and played a pretty big factor in the race. It stayed good for the day of the juniors and qualifying races; what a day that was for NZ. Poppy Lane was one of the first to drop in the junior women’s category. She put down a blistering run that saw her comfortably in the lead and onto the hot seat. Junior woman after junior woman tried to beat that time but couldn’t. Poppy was in the hot seat for a long time, looking surprised every time a rider came down and didn’t better her time. Sasha Earnest laid down a great run and got close to Poppy’s time but ended up 0.417 seconds behind. Was anyone going to be able to deny the win for Poppy? There were two riders left at the top of the hill: the fastest qualifier, Erice Van Leuven, and fan favourite, Aimi Kenyon, from Scotland. Erice had been dominating this year in DH and Enduro and, at Fort William, it was no different. She blitzed the course and came down into the lead by 5.208 seconds. It was a huge lead. Both Poppy and Sasha ran over and hugged her with a NZ flag. Were we going to witness history being made? Aimi Kenyon came down. The crowd was roaring and cheering her on, but she was back at the top in the first two splits. Poppy and Sasha were hugging Erice tightly in the hot seat. They were all tearing up. As Aimi hit the jump into the finish area, Erice knew she had done it. Aimi crossed the line in fourth place. It was a New Zealand 1, 2, 3. The girls got up and celebrated. I think they were shocked at what had just happened. I was tearing up watching them hug each other in joy; it was an emotional moment. The crowd was going wild. What an incredible thing to witness. It’s fair to say that the future is bright for New Zealand in women’s downhill racing.

In the junior men’s race, Germany got their first DH world champion. Henri Kiefer took the win with Canadian, Bodhi Kuhn, taking second place, and Léo Abella of France rounding out the podium.

The following day was the main event: the DH finals. As I rode to the event with my brother, his partner and my niece, the weather was looking pretty great. A few clouds around but mostly sunny skies. It looked like it was set to be an epic day of racing. There were thousands of people flooding into the event. Fans were everywhere: in the pits, up the track, in the grandstand. The food court was packed with people drinking and eating. The slight breeze and warm weather kept the dreaded midges at bay. The pits and expo village were bustling with people trying to see and get up close to their favorite riders while they got prepared in the pits. There was an energy about the place. It was going to be a special day.

The following weekend, the XC World Champs were held in my hometown of Peebles. Well, specifically, Glentress Forest, about 3km from Peebles. I pretty much grew up in this forest. I rode there every weekend as a kid. I worked in the bike shop at the bottom of the hill for years. Many, many years of my life had been spent there, and now the World Champs were going to be raced here. Crazy. There had been some Enduro World Series events raced here in the past, but I never thought in my lifetime I would see World Champs being raced here. It made me proud to be from there and to have grown up in this small part of the world.

Peebles had really gotten behind the event as well. Bunting was hung up all along the high street. The local businesses had lots of bikes and World Championship-themed displays in their windows. The local butcher had made a special pie for the event. There was a buzz and energy around this normally sleepy, unassuming town. Throughout the week, you would see XC race bikes parked outside the cafes and coffee shops.

The event organisers had built a special one-off course just for this race. It was a really well- thought-out course that would make for some exciting racing. It used a mix of old walking tracks and fire roads for steep, pinchy climbs. Existing bike trails were used, mixed in with some freshly cut technical descents and climbs. There were a couple of gap jumps, with the man-made rock roll, The Salmon Ladder, a crowd favorite. It was quite technical and impressive to see being ridden with the seat up. The rest of the course used the new development of bike trails that had been built at the bottom of the hill. It mixed and linked different trails together. A great way to showcase this yet-to-be-open part of the hill. It was a course that had a bit of everything, keeping the riders on their toes and producing some exciting racing.

The first big event of the week was the short track. It’s basically a 20-ish minute all-out sprint on a shortened version of the XC course. I’d been to a few of these over the summer, at the World Cup events, and I have to say it makes for one of the most exciting events to watch.

The men were up first. Straight off the line, it was an all-out war as the riders battled each other to try take the lead and gain control going into the descent. Luca Schwarzbauer powered his way through and was in the lead into the descent. The fans were out in force, hanging over the barriers and cheering at the riders. There were a lot of lead changes over the laps. The crowd favorite, Tom Pidcock, had been working his way through the field after starting a few rows back. Sam Gaze had been hovering around the front, just waiting to make his move. Lap after lap went by. No one was really making any attacks. Watching them go by, I could not believe how fast they were going. The speed they rode the descent at was so impressive and, when they hit the start-finish straight, they got even faster; warp speed. I didn’t know you could go that fast on the flat. On the last lap, Gaze made his attack. He went on the climb, and no one could match his pace. He just kept pulling and pulling, almost like he had an extra gear. Tom Pidcock made a move as well, up to 4th before making a huge dive up the side of Luca Schwarzbauer on the last turn. Gaze held the lead across the line and took the win. Victor Koretzky in second. Tom Pidcock in third. It was a huge moment for Gaze and another Rainbow Jersey for NZ. Tears of joy, and a huge smile, were present on the normally emotionless face of Gaze as he hugged his partner. What a race that was.

Up next was the women’s short track. To say that Evie Richards was the people’s favorite would be an understatement. Throughout the practice laps, everyone was shouting “GO EVIE!” as she rode past. She was definitely getting the biggest cheers of the event, and it was understandable. The UK fans adored her. If you can say one thing about the UK fan, it’s that they are super patriotic.

The race had an explosive start. Just like the men’s, it was a race to be first into the descent to try to control the race. Italy’s Marina Berta led up the first climb. The big names were in close pursuit: Pauline Ferrand Prevot, Evie Richards, Puck Pieterse, Rebecca Henderson. There was a breakaway group of six riders, and that was where the race was really happening. Lap after lap, the lead rider of the group would change. By the halfway mark, it was anyone’s to play for, but one rider was playing it smarter than the rest. Prevot didn’t seem to want to take the lead, just sit in the pack, save energy, and wait for her moment. By lap seven, a few of the chasing pack had caught the leading group. Lap nine saw the first real attack of the race. Evie set off on her bid for the win. You could see in her eyes how much she wanted this. She went off. Prevot and Puck Pieterse chased. They broke away. Into the final lap, Evie was leading. The crowd was going mental. Was she going to do it? As they hit the climb, the patient Prevot made her move. She went, Puck tried, but she couldn’t match the pace – Prevot was in a league of her own. She went on to take the win. Puck would take second, and Richards would take third. Another super exciting race.

The following day would be another great day for New Zealand. Samara Maxwell rode a truly dominating race to take the win in the U23. She led from start to finish. No one was even close to her. She was truly in a league of her own in this race. It was an incredible performance to witness. Another gold for NZ.

Saturday was the big day: the Elite XCO; the final mountain bike event of the World Championships. Thousands and thousands of people descended upon Glentress to watch the show. The cycleway from Peebles to the event was so unbelievably busy with spectators riding to the event, and it was so cool to see. Fans lined the track with flags flying, vuvuzelas blowing, cowbells ringing. Places like the Salmon Ladder were completely packed, with maybe two or three hundred people in a tiny area, all watching their favourite riders tackle the technical section. The sun was out at the event but there were dark clouds lurking around, making for a moody atmosphere. It was shaping up to be one heck of an event.

The women were up first. Seven laps plus one start lap, making up 26km in total. How was it going to play out? Off the start, Puck Pieterse and Loana Lecomte made an early attack to get out front and take the lead into the first main climb of the lap. The short track champion, Pauline Ferrand Prevot, had a bit of a tough start, resulting in her trailing 16 seconds off the pace going into the first descent. The fan favourite, Eve Richards, was in the mix, a couple of seconds back. You could tell how much this race meant to her, just by watching her facial expressions. She was giving it her all but, alas, it wasn’t her day. Loana Lecomte put the hammer down on the descent to put a good gap between her and Puck. Prevot wasn’t going to let them get away, though; she set off in pursuit of Lecomte. After the first lap, Prevot had narrowed the gap from 16 to five seconds. She was on a mission. By the end of the first big climb on the second lap, she had passed Lecomte and was riding off in formidable fashion. She didn’t even look like she was trying; in a class of her own. It was her race. She went on to put on an absolute master class, taking her second set of rainbow stripes of the week. Lecomte would go on to take second, while Puck came in third. The final event was the men’s XCO. The riders lined up on the start line. Big names were getting announced by the MC. It wasn’t just big names from XC lining up, though. Peter Sagan was racing. Mathieu Van Der Poel was looking to do the triple after having won the rainbow stripes in road the week before, and cyclocross earlier in the year. Tom Pidcock and Sam Gaze were placed a few rows back. Eight laps plus one start lap – a total of 29km of racing lay ahead. It was an explosive start; straight off, people were sprinting to fight for position. Disaster struck for Van der Poel, though, as he washed the front on the turn into the start-finish line on the first lap. He was out. As the riders hit the first main climb, it was Jordan Sarrou out in front leading, with Nino Schurter close behind. Nino laid down the law on the descent and took the lead after the first lap, with Sarrou, Pierre de Froidmont and Alan Hatherly all within a second of him. Alan Hatherly made an attack and took the lead, putting himself in front, but where was Pidcock? He was making up places after his mid-pack start. He’d made it up to 11th and was on the move. Hatherly, Sarrou, and Schurter were starting to pull away from the main pack. At the end of the second lap, Pidcock had moved up to 5th, only four seconds off the leading pack. The crowd was going crazy watching what Pidcock was doing. It was a superhuman performance. Schurter and Hatherly put down the hammer, trying to put some time between them and Pidcock. Sarrou was dropped -he couldn’t handle the pace. Pidcock moved up to third, but it wasn’t long until he caught Schurter and Hatherly. The noise as he joined the leading crew was crazy; a massive cheer could be heard throughout the forest. Pidcock was pushing them, but only Nino could match the pace as Hatherly started to fall back. It was a two-way battle for the win, with three laps to go. Something was happening behind. The quiet Kiwi, Sam Gaze, had turned on the afterburners and was working his way through the pack like a man possessed – passing riders like they were standing still. It was crazy, the amount of time he was making up. With just two laps to go, he was up to fourth. Pidcock had taken the lead and was riding his own race. He was just in a different league on this day; no-one was even close. He would go on to win the race in dominating fashion. But the really exciting person to watch in the last two laps was Gaze. He passed Hatherly to put him in third, and was catching Nino. Could he do it? Come from mid-pack and get the silver? Near the end of the seventh lap, he passed Schurter. As they entered the final lap, Schurter tried to hold back Gaze but, alas, it was too late. Gaze powered off, leaving Schurter hurting. Gaze was riding so fast that he managed to claw back 12 seconds off the lead that Pidcock had in that final lap. He had put in a heroic effort to take the silver. Schurter would go on to take bronze. A huge crowd had gathered at the finish line to see Pidcock cross the line and take the rainbow stripes. Boards were getting banged, cowbells were ringing, and cheers were shouted. What a way to finish. He rode an incredible race, coming from mid- pack to take first by a big margin. Amazing! After the medals and jerseys had been presented, Tom travelled through the crowd, up onto the grandstand. He stood there with the rainbow stripes, gold medal, and a British flag around his back. It was a magical moment to witness. The crowd was going crazy. A true champion.

In the end, Britain took the top spot on the medal table at the Inaugural World Championships, with 56 medals. New Zealand took eighth spot, just behind Switzerland. Not bad for a country of 5.1 million people. Best of all, NZ beat Australia by a long way.

World Champs have always delivered a whirlwind of emotions, crazy stories and great racing – and this year was no different. Scotland put on a heck of a show. The crowds were crazy. The racing was fantastic. These had been races to remember and I’m glad I was back to witness them in person. Scotland, you did well.

Words Lester Perry
Images Cameron Mackenzie

In recent years, Nelson has boasted the highest number of sunshine hours in a calendar year. It duked it out for the title with the Taranaki region in 2022, but lost out to not only them but to the Bay of Plenty, too. If second place is the first loser, what’s third place?

Sure, it’s still a podium finish but not necessarily something to write headlines about. Nelson’s ‘sunshine-hours’ crown is gone for now, but residents can rest easy that they have plenty of other accolades to sing about. It’s not just the big yellow orb in the sky bringing visitors to the area and, while the overall vibe and culture could be compared to that of Taranaki, there’s one major feather in Nelson’s cap that the ‘Naki can’t come close to: mountain bike trails. We’re not talking about the “mountain biking” your uncle and aunty do on the weekends aboard their folding e-bikes (although they have that too), it’s Nelson’s intermediate and advanced trails that bring those in the know to the hills behind the sunny town.

Arriving in Nelson, the relief of seeing our bikes being unloaded from the tin bird was short-lived, and shattered by the wide-eyed, confused look on our shuttle driver’s face, giving us a glimpse into what was about to unfold. Unfortunately, after some miscommunication and a major mix-up we were sent a small taxi to transport our three bikes (there were two of us) and an additional seven large bags (don’t ask) to our accommodation in town. With no taxi vans available in the area, we were left with two options -either load all the gear into multiple small taxis or rent an over-the-top expensive van for the short trip to town. Ordinarily, we wouldn’t need a vehicle in Nelson as, if you’re staying in town, the trails are just a pedal away and within a 15 minute walk you can get to anywhere worth going. So, renting was off the cards. Fortunately for us, a keen airport employee saw our plight and let us in on a hot tip: a public bus would roll in at any minute, it would likely be empty, and for the gargantuan fare of just $3 each we could be dropped to a stop just beside our destination. Sure enough, right on cue, the city bus service came to our rescue in one of their fancy new electric buses and left us with enough money in the coffers to sample some of Nelson’s finest hops later in the day. With a date for the Mammoth Enduro penned in the calendar for 23 -24 March 2024, and a few days free in early spring, it was the perfect excuse to head south on a quick trip to experience some of Nelson’s finest. We weren’t strictly hunting for time on the trails, but for a bit of chilled downtime while not on the bikes too. Chasing some local knowledge, we hooked up to ride with Nelson local and winner of the 2016 Mammoth, Kieran Bennett, and local fast-lady and Santa Cruz NZ representative, Amanda Pearce, as well as total frother, Tayla Carson, Nelson MTB Club’s (NMTBC) event portfolio head.

The Mammoth event has been a fixture in one form or another on the NMTBC calendar since the early 1990’s when the event was a large 40 -50km cross-country loop; the course kept secret until registration on the race morning. Club stalwarts, Bryce Buckland, Mike Gane, Andrew Scott and co. headed the event. Unfortunately, thanks to the rapid evolution of the event space, and the sheer number of events on offer by 2010, numbers had dwindled, and an injection of new energy was needed to keep the event alive. Chris Mildon ran it in 2011 as a big loop XC event with a smaller loop option in Sharlands, the last time it ran in that format. Andrew Scott tried a Rogaine format in 2012 but that didn’t really get any traction with entry numbers either.

Come 2013, riding in the area was becoming increasingly Enduro-focused and, with an eye on what was happening in the discipline globally, the Nelson MTB Club grafted the Mammoth name onto a fresh -and epic -Enduro event. The Mammoth Enduro was born. With four hard stages – Codgers, Waahi, Takaaro, and Sharlands -no shuttles, and big liaisons, this is proper Enduro. The event has remained in this format since, with the addition of more stages and, on occasion, some shuttle assistance. The 2013 race attracted a host of local talent and set the tone for Mammoth’s to come. The longest of the four race stages ended up being just shy of 18 minutes for the eventual winner –local legend and trail builder, Kurt Lancaster who by race end stood atop the men’s podium. Meg Bichard showed her pace by being the fastest woman and showed the class which took her to compete in some of the world’s toughest Enduros.

By 2016, Mammoth had earned its title as the most demanding Enduro race in the country, with then three-to-six-minute long stages across two days. Taking the start line were a host of the country’s top riders, many of whom had spent seasons racing internationally. Justin Leov (former EWS and DH Pro) battled local downhiller, Kieran Bennett (ex-international DH rider) for the win. Bennett eventually took the victory by just five seconds. Loui Harvey was just 30-odd seconds back in third place. The women’s field traded blows over the weekend and, eventually, 90 seconds separated the top four: Meggie Bichard, Anja McDonald, Sasha Smith and Amanda Pearce – testament that Nelson had attracted a strong and competitive field.

By 2021, the EWS was in full swing around the globe, and NZ boasted a handful of leading Enduro talent, some of whom call Nelson home. NMTBC had put in a successful bid to host an EWS round in 2021, and 2020’s Mammoth was pegged as a qualifier round and warm-up of sorts for the following year’s big event. The race attracted the who’s-who of New Zealand Enduro. Names such as Eddie Masters, Charlie Murray, Rae Morrison and Cole Lucas lined up against a host of local talent and keen riders from all over NZ. One savvy racer had stashed a six-pack under the bridge at the base of 629 during practice, providing a welcome pit stop for a few riders mid-way through the sweltering race day.

Old mate Covid-19 ruined the party, putting an end to the club’s 2021 EWS dream, leaving months of planning scrapped. Even after a reschedule, multiple factors have meant Nelson’s EWS hopes have faded for the time being. Fortunately, NMTBC resurrected the Mammoth for 2022. Run under the Covid-19 framework, the event was restricted to just 100 riders. A scroll through the results confirms the event again attracted most of NZ’s heavy-hitting Enduro racers to its legendary course. Covid restrictions couldn’t kill rider’s enthusiasm for an epic couple of days racing. After coming through a turbulent, and somewhat disjointed, few years with their events and Covid now well and truly in the rearview, the NMTBC is working on a plan to alternate Enduro events yearly between the Mammoth and its little sibling, the Aorere Enduro. The Aorere will have fewer stages and friendlier liaisons, making it the ideal stepping stone to the Mammoth.

Reminiscing on the event’s history got us hyped to sample some of the trails previously raced, so we hopped on a shuttle with Gravity Nelson to the top of Te Ara Koa, Fringed Hill, to ride the now famous “Butters” – a trail 2.2km long that drops some 500+ vertical metres. Named in memory of Nelson MTB Club Member, Bernard “Butters” Simmonds, the trail opened in 2021 and quickly became a favourite of locals, and now sits in lore alongside legendary trails like 629, Peaking Ridge, and Whaimana. Butters was built with assistance from the Santa Cruz Bicycles ‘Pay Dirt’ fund’, which gave an injection of funds to help get the build done. Off the back of this, Hyperformance Hardware, Santa Cruz NZ’s distributor, have committed to help keep the good times rolling by assisting in funding maintenance of the trail for the coming years. Morning mist clung to the trees as we dropped into Butters, with the overnight rain making the roots slippery to begin with. A few mellow turns to adapt to the greasy conditions and we picked our way through the off-cambered corners up top, avoiding the Black Snakes (roots) which were trying to take our wheels out from under us. As the gradient tipped, the fun just increased as a few rocky drops and chutes were interspersed with amazing flowing turns and floaty jumps. Lower on the hill, we broke loose of the fog and popped out into a blue sky day; the trail was dry and we made the most of the benched-in traverses between the lower steep dropping turns. These are what give Butters its Grade 6 rating; most of the trail is realistically Grade 5, aside from a few crux points or steep sections, so keep your wits about you – speed under control and the trail is more than manageable.

A quick pedal back to town and we headed for Tozetti, a local bakery-turned-cafe. All manner of ‘cabinet’ style treats were available, as well as an extensive menu. After re-caffeinating and a hearty lunch, we turned out sights for Te Ara Rere o Koata (Koata Rere) – “The flight path of Koata” -Nelson’s latest jump trail. Constructed by Queenstown’s jump-building experts, Elevate Trail Building, the 1.4km long trail features expertly sculpted jumps and berms of varying size and shape the entire way down. Most hits on the main line are rollable and multiple larger non-rollable side hits make this jump line perfect for anyone looking for air time. The trail likely won’t appear in a race any time soon, but it’s certainly worth cutting some laps if you’re in town for a few days.

After we realised our whips were weak and we’d exhausted our air miles, we headed for Two Thumb Brewing, hoping to spend the evening dining in the sun while sipping some fine brews. Unfortunately, it wasn’t to be, as they weren’t open on Mondays. On to Plan B. A short walk later we arrived at The Freehouse, a destination with a massive array of craft beer and simple food. If you know your Nelson Sauvin from your Citra, or your Weizenbier from your Gose, or you’re just keen to try something different, head for this converted chapel – it’s certainly one to put on your must-do list when in the area.

The next morning, after a solid feed and perfect coffee at Victus, we walked across the road to Gravity Nelson, loaded the shuttle and headed up for a lap of ‘629’. As we drove through the Maitai Valley, I checked the Trailforks app to see where we were headed and was astounded by how many trails were nearby. Within a 15-minute drive of the city centre there are a huge number of trails, many of them Grade 4, 5 and 6, yet when you’re riding them you feel like you could be deep in the backcountry somewhere. I’m positive there’s no other city in NZ with this volume of lengthy technical descents so close to town – so close in fact that from some you can roll with barely a pedal stroke from the bottom of the trail straight to the pub for après.

From the peak of the access road, ‘629’ drops into the bush and it’s “game on”. After just a couple of turns, you’re over some roots and straight into steep, loose sections – it’s spicy no doubt. Fortunately, just like Butters, the few crux moves are broken up by some mellow sections, allowing you to recompose, let your arm pump subside, and prepare for the next stretch of tech. Again, several steep, dropping turns are key sections, although with catch berms where required – it’s all pretty achievable if you keep a lid on your speed; release the brakes and things can quickly get buck-wild! Lower down, under pines, the trail mellows out for a period, and some fun flow takes over before dropping through native once again, eventually spitting you out on the banks of the Maitai River, a perfect spot to get your cramping arms working again with a mid-ride dip – ideal after the 524 vertical meters you just dropped.

Riding from 629 back out the valley, we came to Amanda’s car. She cracked the boot and produced a chilly bin full of ice with some of Two Thumb Brewing’s finest nestled inside – a hoppy IPA brewed with ingredients grown not far from Nelson’s famed trails. For something a bit less intense, Two Thumb has brewed a beer specially for the NMTBC; ‘Single Track’ is a session IPA available at Two Thumb Nelson, perfect by the glass for a post-ride chill – or you can take some home in a rigger for later… maybe both?! For every pint poured, Two Thumb donates to the Nelson MTB Club, how good! We park up beside the river to enjoy our beer and reminisce on just how damn good the trails we’ve ridden are – we’ve not even scratched the surface of the area but the stoke is high!

Nelson’s technical trails are a great way to stretch your ability and force you out of your comfort zone, ultimately making you a better rider. Thanks to smart trail building, the reality is that provided you’re in control and on course, most of the technical sections are doable given some caution and knowing your limits. There are two things to leave at home before riding some of these trails for the first time, though: ego and pride. Both could see you take a spill you could have otherwise avoided. Ride within your limits and don’t be too proud to walk a section if need be.

NMTBC is full of passionate people who run a slick operation, and their events always attract a tonne of locals but also a whole host of riders from around NZ who come to sample some epic racing and enjoy the town. Many come days early, or stay on after the event to ride what are truly some of NZ’s best trails in one of the most chilled towns in the country. Whether you’re gunning for the podium, or happy to just make it around the course, NMTBC events are always a great time both on and off the bike. Their event villages are hard to beat, and with quality food and coffee on offer the post-race vibes are always high, really adding to the community feel of the event.

For now, the Mammoth ‘24 course is filed away in the minds of a select few Nelson Mountain Bike Club committee members but, one thing’s for sure, they plan to uphold the legend of the Mammoth Enduro.

Words Kelsey Timpany
Images Cameron Mackenzie

When people think of Wellington, the first thing that comes to mind usually isn’t ‘Mountain Biking’. Similarly, when EMTB-ING mentioned, most don’t immediately associate it with Wellington.

For someone who has based their mountain bike experiences around the meccas of Whistler, Queenstown and Rotorua, Wellington has never been on my radar as a biking destination – let alone on an eBike. When the opportunity fell into my lap, to sample Wellington’s trail network on a Pivot Cycles Shuttle LT, I was in.

Wellington – known for its tight, windy streets, tucked away cafes and bars, bright weatherboard villas perched on steep slopes and wind that blows right through your bones – is far from what an uneducated visitor would describe as a mountain biking playground. The best part, I soon learned – amongst the cool hummings of the city – are three quality mountain bike zones, that tick all the mountain biking boxes. Steep and tight; fast and flow; jumps and views; technical root chunder – and with most good networks leading directly to a pub or cafe.

The mission: ride and sample as much of Wellington’s goodness in the space of an afternoon and on one battery charge. Easy.

The team of choice: Latham Collet, local Wellington shredder, fresh off his first season Privateering in Europe. Latham is your classic Welly young gun: heaps of style, fit as anything from the Wellington streets, and a tidy mullet. Cam McKenzie was tasked as day director and responsible for finding the trendiest bars and cafes – although Latham’s recommendation of a Brumby’s smoko was probably a highlight.

Our choice of Pivots played a valuable role in our Wellington mission. I opted for the Pivot Shuttle LT, a formidable machine that promised to deliver stability and control with playfulness on the zones we were about to explore. Latham, on the other hand, went for the Pivot Shuttle SL, which he reckoned felt exactly like his trail bike, with the convenient battery assist to take on the windy Welly roads.

It started like any other Wellington day: wet and windy. We had to pivot (pun intended) our plans drastically to avoid the torrential downpour. Cam and I put our heart rates in the red zone from one too many decent coffees at Cafe Neo, and did the classic pre-bike faffing at Pedal Project, where Latham conveniently works. The heavens parted and we were finally on our way to explore the cityscape.

First up was Makara Hill, a zone known for its tight singletrack against the backdrop of native bush and panoramic views. The usual 45-minute climb from the city was quartered thanks to boost mode and it felt like we were on top of Wellington in no time at all. On a good day you can see the South Island, and the start of the snowcapped Southern Alps, however, today we could only see as far as each other. Despite the morning’s weather tantrum, it was impressive to see many Wellingtonians out enjoying Makara Hill – doused in mud and wrapped up – as though it was a normal day. The weather definitely makes you tougher around these parts of the world and that was apparent from the hardy riders on the tracks.

Anticipating muck, we were pleasantly surprised to find the trails rode epically when wet. We were treated to tight singletrack, with natural side hits that started exposed and ended in dank native bush. Here, the Pivot Shuttles showcased the ideal blend of power and playfulness, especially for Latham who was throwing the LT around like it was his Firebird. Makara set the tone and pace for the afternoon; we were all stoked and excited to unlock the other zones. A quick pit stop at Brumby’s bakery to smash a mince and cheese pie, and we were on our way to zone number two: Polhill Reserve.

Smack bang in the heart of Wellington, this was just a convenient quick link away on the eBikes, through the city streets. There is nothing more satisfying than riding on a busy street, matching the traffic speed – convince me otherwise. The Pivot Shuttles were up for the job, getting up to effortless speeds of 50km whilst winding between cars and traffic lights. The reserve’s mountain bike trails, with their natural terrain, winding routes, and technical challenges, was another exciting opportunity to put the eBikes to the test. The Shuttles allowed us to navigate the terrain with ease but also punish the corners and chunder with playfulness and ease that truly defines Polhill. Latham and I had another sweet session of ripping corners, navigating steps, steeps and rocks, and finding the little hidden trail relics such as baby dolls and car parts, that make Polhill iconic.

We found some jumps that the local kids have been labouring on over the winter, lined with shark fins and drops, that I admittedly was too much of a baby to try. Latham held down the fore, and greased them all with style and ease. For an onlooker, no one would suspect he was actually on an eBike. It was awesome to see the love and care put into these jumps by the grommies, and a testament to the quality of shredders coming out of the city.

After exploring two zones, it was well and truly time for a beer. Luckily for us, Polhill Reserve trails basically pop you straight out to Garage Project, one of the top tier craft breweries in the city. Cam and I went for classic hazy styles while young Latham – who is still on his beer journey – opted for a sweet tequila sunrise vibe. He’ll get there eventually. The taphouse was a melting pot for students, hipsters, professionals – and filthy mountain bikers like us. No one batted an eyelid at our mud-crusted faces and bums.

With refreshments annihilated and tanks full, it was time to hit Mount Victoria, or the Big V, but not without a few urban hits for Latham. Stairs? Who needs them when you can jump them on an eBike? The Shuttle LT battery had only dropped one bar despite already covering 1500m of climbing over four hours. With a couple of hours of daylight left, it was time to really put the eBikes to the test and see what juice we could suck out of them.

Words: Annie Ford
Photography: Callum Wood

It started with a ridiculously pedally summer. After riding the length of New Zealand, towing a surfboard, my newfound fitness led me to climb over 10k vert – accidentally becoming the first woman to do so on an enduro bike. It was a summer of deleting limiting beliefs and digging deep. But I’m a downhiller at heart, and there was one last thing I had my eye on before the end of the season: take the same trusty bike – my Santa Cruz Nomad – and attempt to break a Downhill World Record.

After a little research, I learnt there was no Women’s World Record for vertical descending in 24 hours, only a men’s record. The minimum requirement to set the women’s record was 30,000 metres, or eight Aoraki/ Mount Cook’s. The Men’s World Record, held by two Germans in Schladming, stood at a mammoth 40,840 metres, or 10 Aoraki/Mount Cook’s. I felt sorry for my enduro bike already.

First hurdle: where? Nowhere in New Zealand – or Aussie – can you descend vertical metres as quickly (or as enjoyably) as you can at Coronet Peak. And it’s right in my backyard. Exposed, rough and – best of all – steep, the National Coronet DH Track was my lap of choice: four minutes up, four minutes down, with 419 metres vert gained each time. To set the women’s record, I’d need to do 72 laps.

I began mentally preparing for the sheer repetitiveness and volume of laps. What would it even feel like? No one knew. Ahh well, I guess that’s the whole concept behind a world record.

Second hurdle: the Nomad. I was about to do a season’s worth of riding in a single day. My poor, poor baby… Ben and KC from Vertigo Bikes came to the rescue. We replaced my handlebars with ultra-compliant carbon Title MTB bars, slid on RevGrips and installed Axxios vibration reduction. My SRAM/ RockShox setup was still mint and only needed a service. We rebuilt the wheels, threw on new tyres, and made everything super soft.

Third hurdle: sickness. How’s this for timing – two days before the attempt, I woke up unable to move. I was rolled by the only flu I’d ever had and couldn’t breathe without coughing. I organised the final days by texts rather than phone calls, so people couldn’t hear my voice – and couldn’t tell me not to do it. Sorry mum.

The day rolled in and I was sick as a dog. On the plus side, the weather looked clear for the first 12 hours, with rain forecast to increase. The plan was to kick off at 8pm on the 15th of March, knocking over the night laps while fresh. The Coronet chairlift was sped up to 100% and trucked along at five metres per second – almost too fast to remove our own bikes from the chair in front. The excitement was intense, I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. I’d never seen a chairlift move so fast. It was bloody happening.

Lap 1 was the most dangerous in my mind, simply because my excitement and energy was borderline ridiculous. “Pace yourself”. Find your lines, settle in. One done. My cheeks already hurt from smiling.

And so, it began. It was some of the most fun riding I’ve ever done. It felt like my mates and I had a private bike park with the speediest chairlift ever – it was ruinously good. The dirt was perfect, a million stars overhead. It didn’t seem real, and we kept looking at each other and bursting out laughing. Time was flying. The cold air attacked my lungs on the chairlift, and my cough became our constant companion. Ascending was harder than descending in those early hours.

For the first 20 laps, I set the pace by leading other riders. I soon learnt that following someone else, however, meant I had to think less. I soon had favourite riders to follow, especially if they showed me smoother lines. It wasn’t long before we could ride that track blindfolded. We knew every rock, every line.

Forty laps in – halfway to the women’s record – fatigue began to wear in. I had my first Red Bull ever, with a coffee chaser. Damn, I could never have foreseen the effect: infinite energy at 3am, a million words a minute. It lasted about five laps before a thick, solid wall was hit. My appetite plummeted, and all food became repulsive. I was on the verge of vomiting each and every time I ate, with food getting shaken up the instant I dropped in. Conversely, I couldn’t afford not to eat, with mandarins and boiled potatoes all I could keep down. Rather than looking for fast lines, I began looking for smooth lines.

Fifty laps in, I began double finger braking and sitting down while descending. Combined, I swear there’s no better feeling in the world. There were no more smooth lines, given I had created my own braking bumps throughout the night. The beginning of arm pump was setting in, an uncomfortable sensation I had sought while training, but never felt. Temperatures dropped, my fingers began to freeze, and braking became more and more difficult. Digging had begun.

A faint red glow lit up the mountain range across the valley, the beginning of an incredible sunrise. I’d just lived the fastest night in history. Those sunrise laps are burnt into my memory forever – a red sky above, lapping with mates in one of the most epic places on the planet. We stopped and stared, but only for a moment.

Day broke. The light changed everything; it felt like our laps now were on a different mountain, on a different day, on a different planet. Twelve of 24 hours down already, I started doing my fastest lap times, energised by being able to see, plus the women’s record – 72 laps, 30,000m – was getting close now. I got so excited I started doing features and pulling up for jumps again – a bad idea in hindsight, given every single impact cost me towards the end. The crew that had lapped all night with me needed to go to work, leaving me to continue lapping, alone now. This is how I usually ride, and I smiled to myself on the chairlift, absorbing the absurdity of it all. It gave me a chance to pause, feel. It’s then I realised I couldn’t feel my thumbs anymore. Nerve damage. Hopefully they come back someday.

I watched darkening clouds roll towards us from the south, it was no longer a race against time, but a race against rain. My support crew warned me I was a single lap away from the women’s record, that I was well ahead of time, that I should rest. The threatening rain decided for me – the perfect dirt wasn’t going to last much longer. The risk of injury would skyrocket if it got wet, so I’d only rest when I couldn’t continue riding non-stop.

The Women’s World Record was hit at 9am, 13 hours into the ride, with a growing crowd to celebrate. Wow. Eight Aoraki/Mount Cook’s. A new World Record holder. It wasn’t the plan, but, why not? Time to hunt down the men’s record. To celebrate, the support crew didn’t force me to eat that lap – a genuine and unexpected highlight. I began to realise eating was one of the hardest parts of the attempt.

Rain began to fall. Twenty more laps would break the Men’s World Record. Doable. Within reach. But, with fatigue and increasingly muddy conditions, 20 laps felt like 2000. I couldn’t afford mistakes, because my balance was rapidly deteriorating. I was double finger braking only now and sitting at every opportunity – which wasn’t often. My hands and forearms were noticeably swelling with each lap, their size clearly seen beneath my gloves and jumper. I slowed, could no longer jump, and began gritting my teeth with the pain of every braking bump or G-out. It was then that Brooke and Penny joined me – I harvested their high energy and stoke. More and more tourists joined the fray, filming and encouraging us from the sidelines, which meant even more energy for me to harvest.

The heavens opened with just ten laps to go, and the last few laps were indeed horseshit. No one wins a shootout with wet Coronet. Thick mud coated both my tyres, making balancing through tight switchbacks near impossible. The closer to 100 laps we came, the slower time seemed to go. I had a little tumble on the 98th lap, covering my gloves in cold mud. I didn’t have the emotional bandwidth for a response to the layover, just picked the bike up, wiped my hands, and carried on. The words “be patient, stay upright” were now on repeat in my head.

At the bottom of the 98th lap, I was told I’d just broken the official World Record. I was exhausted, wet, but grinning; and met with clapping from hardy spectators braving the rain. I felt relief, and impatience. I was solely focused on 100 laps. Nothing else mattered. Arbitrarily and shallowly, ‘98 laps of Coronet’ just doesn’t sound quite as good as 100. Righto, two more then.

Those last two laps were easily the diciest riding I’ve ever done. Every part of me was fatigued, my arms were massively pumped, my goggles were covered in rain, and the trail had become peanut butter. I especially dreaded the rock slab, where poor balance went head-to-head with high consequence features. Despite this, speed increased on the final lap with all pain forgotten, completely trumped by the excitement of finishing. Crazily, it was one of the fastest laps I’d ridden. On the home straight of the 100th lap, I saw the support crew, standing and waiting in the rain, smiles from ear to ear. It was done.

I dropped my bike at their feet and was showered in rain and beer. I had no words. Arms were wrapped around me, with friends and strangers joining in the celebrations. I cannot explain the feeling I had in my chest, the comradery of the crew, the soreness in my body. It’s an experience I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to surpass, but I’ll sure try.

Final figures: 100 laps. 42,085 metres descended. 18 hours and 53 minutes.

I went out chasing a number, but that turned out to be the least important part. The people, the focus, the beauty, the mind, the body, and the INCREDIBLE support. That’s what’s real.

I honestly cannot articulate my gratitude to those who made it up the mountain with me. I could not have done it without them. They brought fuel to the fire, timely playfulness, and brilliance to this giant ticking clock we call life. I’ll never forget it.

A special shout out to the incredible Coronet Peak team, who supported me every step of the way. To SRAM, Patagonia and Title MTB for getting epic adventures like this off the ground. To Ben Hildred, for your perseverance in getting me to eat, and holding me up physically and mentally when the going got really tough. To the riders, Mateo Verdier, Brooke Thompson, Piyush Chavan, Jess Blewitt, Baxter Maiwald, Brett Rheeder, Penny Rowson, Jake Byrne, Sam Evans and Jamie McKay, who shared the wild ride. To the witnesses, Robert Lyons, Robin Bush, Lena Florey, Iona Bruce and Paul Westbrook, who put in long shifts at ridiculous hours. And to Jonny Ashworth and Callum Wood, whose incredible talents captured the day perfectly.

Narrated by the legendary voice of cycling, Phill Liggett, The Engine Inside is a captivating feature-length documentary that weaves together the extraordinary stories of six everyday people. Through their experiences, the film unveils the remarkable power of the bicycle to promote profound change in our lives and communities. One of the documentary’s writers, Daisy Maddinson, shares how the film hopes to spark a feel-good revolution on two wheels.

Beyond the traditional portrayal of cycling as a sport or recreational activity, we don’t often give the bicycle much thought. Some might use it to get from A to B or commute to the office, but have you ever seriously considered the deeper impact of swinging a leg over?

The Engine Inside goes deeper, exploring the often-overlooked potential of this 200-year-old machine. Through the stories of six everyday people using the bicycle as a tool, the documentary delves into the significance of cycling in helping solve various global issues, including physical and mental well-being, socioeconomic inequality and climate change.

As writers, we wanted to go beyond the surface of cycling and showcase the true essence of the bicycle and its transformative power. In the development stage, every story we uncovered touched us deeply. We met people who faced daunting personal and systemic challenges head-on—from generational trauma and economic barriers to women’s equity and motor vehicle collisions—who have all found hope in the simple act of riding a bike. Their determination to overcome adversity through cycling left us humbled and even more inspired to use storytelling to spread the “bike gospel”.

By sharing the journeys of these everyday people from all walks of life, the film challenges anyone who watches it to reevaluate their own perspective on the transformative power of the bicycle.

The world can feel big and ugly sometimes. With so many converging social and environmental problems, the weight of the world can be overwhelming. We think, how can we as individuals change anything? And what use is one small action when the problems are so large? After watching The Engine Inside, we wanted the audience to ask themselves: Can an act as ordinary as riding a bike truly unlock strength and resilience within us all?

The documentary urges us to see the bicycle as more than just a means of transportation or a way to enjoy the great outdoors. It shows us how riding can act as a catalyst for change. It shows us that small actions do make a difference.

Our hope is that The Engine Inside will prompt anyone who sees it to change their view of cycling and embrace the transformative power of the bicycle and the engine inside us all. We can build a better world, one pedal stroke at a time.

Film release coming late 2023.

Words & Images: Jake Hood

That was the quote from Quentin Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction that was bouncing through my head while we pedaled the last 20km back to Picton. THE ROYALE WITH CHEESE. It seemed like the perfect name for this adventure – a better name than what we’d had before. As we all know, everything’s better with cheese… and what an adventure it had been!

After the success of last year’s big mission in the Richmond Range – ‘Ferry to Fishy’ – we knew we had to do another one but, this time, it had to be bigger. We hadn’t even made it back to Wellington on the ferry before Scotty, Paul and Tom were throwing ideas around, still high on endorphins from the recent mission. The idea that seemed to stick was Mt. Royal; it sounded like the perfect mountain to conquer. Scotty, Paul, and Tom had ridden it before and told me the riding was insane. It had to be done! The name was set: The Royal Rumble – later changed to the Royale with Cheese.

Originally, the plan was to complete this mission within six months of ‘Ferry to Fishy’, but, well, as we all know, life sometimes gets in the way and adventures have to take a bit of a back seat. It wasn’t until December 2022 that the chat group got fired back up and things started to happen. Scotty and I were keen. Evan was also interested but wouldn’t be able to make it. Paul and Tom were very quiet on the chat, not committing. It got to the point where I just committed and booked my flight up to Wellington. This was the catalyst to get the ball rolling and make it happen.

About a week before the flight up to Wellington, I looked at the long-range forecast and it was terrible. Nothing but heavy rain for the whole time we were going to be on the trip. I messaged the group: “Are you sure you want to do this mission still? You should check out the long-range. It doesn’t look good.” Now, I love a bit of suffering, a bit of a bad time, but the idea of riding 70km in the pouring rain to stay in a small DOC hut, ride Mt. Royal, then ride back into Picton in the pouring rain just seemed too much like a bad idea. It would just be a miserable, cold, gross old time. “I’m not against just coming up to Wellington for a tour de brunch this weekend,” I told the others.

There was chat in the group about sacking it off due to the weather, but we just kept an eye on it all week. We would decide closer to departure time what we were going to do. A couple of days before, we just decided that we were going to do it, come rain or shine. Heck, if it was wet, it was going to be wet. Just get your head down and get on with it.

I flew up to Wellington on Thursday (2nd Feb), landing early afternoon and giving me just enough time to get all my last-minute stuff sorted for the trip. A new jacket and dehydrated meals from Coffee Outdoors, a few bike things from the legends at Get Lost Cycling, and some frame bags from Caleb. Scotty picked me up from Get Lost and we headed back to his house to eat our weight in carbs for this mission, and get an early night for the 12.30am start.

Sleep is something I struggle with, and that evening was no exception. The excitement of what lay ahead kept me up; the not knowing of how it was going to go. I love this stuff.

At 12.30am, Scotty and I hit the road to the ferry terminal. We met Paul at Penny’s and bombed the road down to Zealandia, where Tom Bradshaw joined us. The energy levels were high, and the chat was pretty punishing (in a good way). We bombed the roads on the way down to the ferry. The quiet streets let you get off the brakes and speed tuck, not worrying about cars. But soon this speed would catch Scotty out.

As we headed towards the university, Scotty was hugging the corner of the roundabout tightly. It’s quite a tight left turn and Scotty tripped on it. In a flash, his back wheel let go, and he hit the deck like a sack of potatoes, with such force that his shoe fell off. What the heck just happened? He got up and hobbled about. “Where is my shoe?” he said, half laughing, half in pain. Everyone was kind of laughing since we couldn’t believe what had happened. We hadn’t even made it 2km into the trip before the first crash. Scotty is a tough bugger. I think that crash was a lot sorer than he let on.

The shoe was recovered, and we got back on the road – this time at a bit of a slower pace – to the Bluebridge terminal. As we got to the terminal, the chat was, “Will Tom Cappleman show up? Will he be here? Is he actually going to bail?” This had been the running joke of the group chat for months. Tom hadn’t ridden his bike all summer. His new business, Coffee Outdoors, had been going gangbusters, which in turn had taken up a lot of his time. Even the day before, when I was buying my jacket, he was like, “Yeah, I’m not coming,” in a joking manner. Well, peer pressure got the better of him, and he rolled up to the terminal ten minutes after we arrived. It was great to see him back on his bike. The adventure was about to begin. The crew was assembled. Let’s go…

We all piled into the back room of the terminal, awaiting the ferry – the small room where they put all the bikes before boarding the ferry. The terminal was a lot busier than normal, full of people from the Ed Sheeran concert that night. We were in the room for about half an hour before finding out the ferry had been delayed. By how long? No one knew. We just had to sit there and hold tight. As time went on, tiredness and delusion started to kick in. We were just lying on the floor laughing about absolutely nothing, trying to even think of at least one Ed Sheeran song we knew. The carpet in the room was that super thick, hardwearing, bristly-like material, and it was so uncomfortable. When you laid down on it, it felt like getting stabbed by a thousand tiny needles. I tried to get some more shut eye, but it wasn’t happening.

A full two and a half hours later, we finally got to board the ferry. Getting up from the floor, I felt like my body had aged 50 years. Every joint hurt. Half my body felt numb but sore at the same time. The walk to the ferry sorted that out. We had done this ferry ride enough to know the drill. Get in early and find a good place to get horizontal for sleep. After quickly getting our bikes loaded up, we sprinted upstairs to claim some big seats. Snooze you lose, people. I got horizontal immediately on a row of seats. I just wanted to try to get some shut eye. It had been a long day ‘til then without sleep. I managed maybe an hour or two, but it wasn’t much.

As the sun came up and illuminated the Sounds, I woke up and went out on the deck to see if there was a golden hour, but it wasn’t meant to be. Grey clouds hung around. In some of the bays of the Sounds, you could see rain, and towards Picton way it was raining heavily. Not a great omen for what lay ahead. As we docked in Picton, the rain lashed down outside the boat but, in Picton centre, there were blue skies. Maybe we would miss it? Just… Well, that wasn’t the case. As we got off the boat, we rode right into the middle of it. The rain pelted us as we disembarked the ferry, the residual water from the road spraying up and completely drenching us. First stop was the bakery in town for breakfast and to grab lunch for later.

As we arrived at the bakery, the rain stopped and the sun came out, which was pretty great timing to let us dry out as we shoveled all the carbs and caffeine into our bodies in preparation for the 70km of road ahead. Spirits were high despite us all looking a bit worse for wear due to the lack of sleep. It was only at this point that I found out Bradshaw wasn’t going to be joining us for the return leg of the trip. Instead, he was off to ride down the length of the South Island afterwards. How flipping cool, and what a start to the trip this was going to be for him.

After a lot of time faffing, eating and drying out, we finally got on our bikes and made a move on the Queen Charlotte Drive, out of Picton toward Havelock. We eased into the climb out of Picton, having learned our lesson from the last time we were in this position: don’t get overexcited and punch it. We didn’t need to treat this like a race. We had heaps of time to get to the hut that night. As we reached the top of the climb out of town, we got a full view of Picton below. The misty, rainy grey sky contrasted with the dark-but-vi- brant green of the trees. It was pretty magical.

Road or singletrack? That was the choice from the viewpoint. We chose the singletrack which… might not have been the best choice. It started off great, a flowing track back down to sea level, then onto a boardwalk around Shakespeare Bay. Moored up in the harbor was a gigantic cruise ship. After the boardwalk, the track started heading uphill. The saturated dirt was sticky to ride through, often causing wheel spins. It weaved its way through the dense trees back up near the road above. Eventually, we got to a point where there was a huge slip on the trail. Work had been done to reroute the path, but the soil was like clay, sticking to the wheels and tires. We had to push our bikes on this slip section as it was so sticky. We took the next turn off back onto the road. “Well, let’s not do that again,” said Scotty.

The road from Picton to Havelock follows the contours of the Sounds before a long, straight section inland, then back to following the edge of the Sounds to Havelock. The windy road sections were stunning. They weaved up and down, with some fast descents followed by pretty mel- low climbs. You could see the extent of the damage caused by the rains in the slips that had happened – huge bits of the hillside had just fallen away. But that didn’t tarnish how beautiful the landscape was. The misty, grey low clouds really added to it, leaving a sort of lazy, moody feel. There were still pockets of rain in some of the bays, from their own little microclimates. We were making good pace, just plodding along. Everyone seemed in good fettle. Knowing that we were going to be in for a big day, we kept the pace chill.

As we hit the big, long straight, the clouds burned off and bright sunshine appeared. It seemed to happen in an instant. Gone were the grey skies, replaced with what was almost a bluebird day. The temperature shifted massively. It became hot and sticky, with humidity at an all-time high. We got into a chain gang, got our heads down to get this straight out of the way. It was a good long slog, just turning the legs and trying to enjoy the surroundings over the humming sound of Maxxis Max Grip tires sticking to the tarmac. In the distance, you could see the heat waves coming off the tarmac. Sweat was dripping off me like water, and a mixture of sun cream and sweat beaded off my head into my eyes, leaving that familiar uncomfortable stinging feeling. “Couple of hours, boys.” With our heads down, we pressed on and eventually hit the windy roads to Havelock again.

It was a welcome sight to see Havelock. In my head, I knew that was a big chunk ticked off today. We stopped for a bite to eat, a water refill, and a bit of chill time. The temperature might have been unpleasant when riding, but boy oh boy, it was great during lunch. After a good feed and some chit-chat, we were ready to get back on the road again. We got back into the chain gang and punched it to Canvas Town. The 9.6km bit of State Highway 6 was busy with trucks and cars. It wasn’t pleasant to be on. Cars fly by you at high speed. We just wanted to get it done and get off it for our own safety.

Cappleman was bonked, he had no energy left – so he stayed back at the hut while Scotty, Paul, Bradshaw and I started hiking up the Wakama-Rina. Our original plan was to get to the top and ride back down to the hut, but we were all pretty tired and kind of teetering on the edge of bonking, so we figured we would just push up as far as we could before bonking completely. From the get-go, the push was pretty hard. Early on, the trail was slick, making finding traction for walking even harder. It was going to be a fun, slippery ride down. As we pushed up, we kept checking out sections, wondering if certain gaps would be possible. Well, the gaps would have been possible, but it was more a question of whether we would be able to slow down afterwards in these conditions. We all pushed up picturing in our heads what we might do. “I’m just going to carve off this/float off that/drift round here.” It’s great thinking that way, and in reality you may be able to make just one of those things happen, but it makes the pushing up easier.

The trail looked fantastic, with some long sweeping turns, a couple of tech sections, fast straights, and some tight, technical switchbacks – nothing too technical, just a nice little warm-up for tomorrow, giving us an idea of what the dirt would be like. After about an hour and a half, we made it to a flatter section and decided to call it a day on pushing up. Everyone was looking pretty tired, and our legs were feeling heavy. We had a big day planned for the next day, so felt it was best to save ourselves for that. We turned around and dropped in.

Straight out of the gate, we hit this awesome tight switchback that you could really lean into and rail. Paul was out front leading, and he skidded around, throwing leaves up everywhere. Scotty did the same. Bradshaw was behind, shouting and yelling. Our back wheels were fishtailing left and right on the straights. As we tipped into steeper bits, a little bit of caution was applied, and we were right to. Braking traction wasn’t great, and when it started getting away on you, it really started to get away. In saying that, though, it wasn’t slowing Paul or Scotty down. They were flying. There were a few slick roots hidden under the leaves, and our bikes danced left and right as we held out through the line. I could hear Bradshaw having some wild moments behind me, on his hardtail, with the occasional “woooow!” or “oh shit!” moment. The forest we were riding through was amazing – and dense.

As predicted, I only managed about one of the twelve things I thought I was going to do on this trail. Everything just came up faster than I’d predicted it would – and you have to ride on instinct versus what you had imagined. We got back to the hut with huge smiles on our faces. It was a great little bit of trail we had just ridden, making the 60km worth it to get there. But, the following day was going to be something different again. Less of a ‘trail’; steeper, techier, longer, gnarlier. We were fired up. Everyone was grinning ear to ear.

Back at the hut, Cappleman had perked up again. The downtime and some food had pushed him past the bonk and he looked full of life again. At this point, Bradshaw decided to drop it on us that he wasn’t coming up Mt. Royal with us but, instead, was going to hit the road to Nelson and start clocking off kilometres on his South Island trip. “Woah, woah, woah! Hang on, you can’t do that,” Scotty said, shocked. “Yeah, man, you can’t dog the boys,” from Paul. Cappleman just went straight for the heavy blow: “Didn’t realise you were a coward.” “You’re coming up that hill tomorrow whether you like it or not,” – Scotty. Bradshaw came back with some bullshit about how he had to be at some dinner or something. It was a weak excuse. Over dinner, and a dip in the river, we bullied, peer-pressured, and guilt-tripped Bradshaw to come up Royal with us. We couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. I mean, why would you just bail on this? Eventually, Capple-man said he would give Bradshaw his Crocs if he came up, and that was what sealed the deal. Honestly, some bullshit that was – but hilarious at the same time.

And so, night one came to a close – the perfect preface to what laid ahead of us.

Words: Lance Plibrow
Photography: Nick Waygood, Piper Albrecht and Clancy Kelly

It’s every keen young mountain biker’s fantasy: to be at the pinnacle of their sport, spending their days racing around the world; riding in exotic locations on tracks they’ve only experienced via YouTube; to have sponsors showering them with free equipment; and to be rubbing shoulders with the world’s best each weekend as they race between the tape and then celebrate their highs or lows at a local pub, drinking strange foreign beer.

But, for every kid with a dream, there are few that have the tenacity required to push through the challenges it takes to achieve this goal. Hard work beats talent, as they say, but it takes both to break into the professional ranks.

But if there is an example to look to for how hard work can indeed turn this dream into a reality, Matthew Fairbrother must be the example. With a dream to be riding in the Enduro World Series, Matthew stumbled, somewhat inadvertently, on a way to make this happen.

At just 17, Matthew decided he wanted to race in the EWS. A common enough dream. Already an outstanding rider by local standards, Matthew took the typical route: worked hard, saved money, and tried to get onto the circuit. Securing the necessary qualification to be able to ride at an EWS event through local qualification rounds, the first hurdle was complete. From then, it was a question of how to get to the first race in Tweed Valley, Scotland. He knew he would need a pile of money for flights and daily expenses so, as soon as he finished Year 12, it was straight to work. “I was 17, I just worked as much as I could over summer, seven days a week,” explains Matt. “But I still didn’t have enough money.”

Now, the next big decision had to be made. What about the school year that was starting? It wasn’t a hard decision in Matt’s mind: “When it came time to go back to school… I just kept working. Still working six or seven days a week, sixty hours a week, trying to squeeze in biking and going to the gym around that. I was fully committed, I bought plane tickets, I was just heading over by myself. I didn’t know anyone at that point.”

Matt had been raised in a family that accepted this level of independence, and his parents didn’t stand in the way of his plans. “To be honest, I didn’t tell them much about what my plan was, because I didn’t really know myself what was going to happen. I just had a plan to get to the first race and see what happened. But I was confident in myself, and I’m naturally a pretty independent, self-reliant person, and I think they know that about me.”

The first EWS event in Scotland proved to be a fortuitous starting point. Already having some grass-roots level sponsorship through Scottish company, Deviate Bikes, he was able to foster his small connection to the company and lean on them as he landed at his first race. So, what was the plan in his head for the rest of the six month season across Europe and North America at this point? Loose. “Honestly, I just did not have a plan at all, I guess I was probably thinking there would be so many people there at Tweed Valley that would be going to the next race in Slovenia, so I was bound to be able to hook in with someone.”

But, that plan didn’t work out – for relatively human reasons. He landed in Scotland and struggled to make connections; the reality of what he was doing started to sink in. “I got to Scotland and, other than going to Australia, this was really my first time overseas on my own, and I just felt like a really small fish in a really big pond,” explains Matt. “I was actually just really overwhelmed and scared, and I didn’t seem to be able to pluck up the courage to just go up to other people around the race and talk to them.”

His plan for six months of racing was facing a reality check. But, fortune favours the brave and that’s when he had a fortunate encounter – meeting long time EWS veteran and New Zealand racer, Wyn Masters. “I bumped into Wyn Masters a few days before the race in Scotland, and he’d never heard of me but we yarned and I said, ‘I don’t know how I’m going to get to the next EWS’ and he said, ‘Why don’t you just bike there?’ He was actually joking but I was like, ‘actually yeah, that’s it, I’ll just bike there’ – totally serious. And after that I was committed, I guess.”

At this point, Matt had no idea how long the distance was between each race and how many kilo-metres he would end up riding (about 5000 by the end of the season). He didn’t even know how far it was to the next race in Slovenia, or have any idea how to get there. “I didn’t think it would be that far… but as it turns out it is, in fact, quite far. But I was committed to it and it solved my issue of transportation. For some reason it just seemed to make sense. I’m not sure how it made sense, but it just did.”

There was of course the slight problem of not being at all set up for riding across Europe. Only deciding to do this five days before he would need to begin riding, he had no bikepacking bags, so quickly jumped online to order some that would theoretically arrive in time for him to make the ride to Slovenia. However, a Queen’s Birthday long weekend meant that when they hadn’t arrived by the Friday his schedule was already in trouble. He had the Tweed Valley race that weekend to focus on as well. Fortunately, the owner of Deviate came to the rescue, driving down to Glasgow, buying some bags for him and bringing them back up. Fortunately, when he left New Zealand he had packed light. “I didn’t leave with much of a plan, but I knew that it would be harder if I had a lot of stuff. So I just brought as little gear as possible with me. I didn’t even have any non-biking shoes.” He finished the race in Tweed Valley; the owner of Deviate met him at the finish line with his bags; Wyn managed to scavenge some slick tyres off another team’s warm up bike; a quick tyre change and less than an hour after finishing his first EWS race he was pedalling to the ferryto get to the Netherlands.

Eventually arriving at the ferry, he encountered his next problem: children under 18 had to be accompanied by a parent or guardian, and they wouldn’t allow him to board the boat. “It was two in the morning in New Zealand, and the people from the boat said I needed a photo of my par- ent’s passport and to sign something saying I had permission to board the vessel. So I was calling my mum at 2:00am and I was just lucky she actually woke up.” Eventually, he was on the boat and looking forward to two things: refuelling, and relaxing in the sleeping cabin he had paid for. The boat had a buffet, so it was time to get his mon- ey’s worth and load up on calories for the ride to Slovenia. “I went to the buffet for dinner, and I just ate so, so much, as I was basically pedalling for a week after that.” But, he didn’t count on one thing – sea sickness. “After I had literally eaten as much as I could, I went up to my cabin and I was just so sea sick, I puked up all the food I had eaten. Eventually I got off the boat, feeling terrible, but I had to keep moving. So, I just started pedalling until I made it to Slovenia.”

It took six days of riding to get to Slovenia and he enjoyed two days off watching the World Cup in Leogang, but all the riding was beginning to take its toll. “At the Slovenia race…I just got demolished. I was so tired. But I was also just so stoked to be competing,” says Matt.

But the tiredness took its toll; fatigue on his body meant he was crashing more than he should have been: “I actually ended up dislocating my pinky finger in one crash – I looked down and it was just dangling out to the side. I got to a medic, and they wanted me to pull out, but I wanted to carry on, so they decided the only thing they could do was zip tie it to my other finger.” From Slovenia it was on to Italy and the round at Val Di Fassa and, if sea sickness, fatigue, and dislocating a finger were bad, here things got worse. Rain riding to the event took its toll. What might be an otherwise difficult physical task to get to the next round became mentally challenging. Too little funds to stay at camp- grounds meant that he was sleeping rough each night, using whatever he could find for shelter, to make his meagre pot of funds stretch that little bit further. He eventually arrived in Val Di Fassa and was not in a good state. He also hadn’t factored in the challenge of riding at higher altitude. “I was just shattered. And as it turns out I had COVID at the same time. I thought I was just tired from riding, but I actually had COVID. I wasn’t having much fun at the race, and I think I came 36th or something.

But, eventually, he found his groove and things got easier. Building a bit of a reputation around the pits meant people were engaging with him more. Teams would offer him food and other support. “If I ever had any issues with my bike, I would be able to go to a team and there was always someone who would help me out. I was alone, but I actually felt like I had quite a bit of support.”

And then, he bumped into Wyn again and everything changed… again. “Wyn included me in his WynTV episode, and I started getting some followers from that,” explains Matt. “Then Pinkbike picked up on me and ran a story.” Pinkbike – easily the world’s biggest mountain bike media website approached him for a story, and he was cautiously optimistic that this might help his profile. “I thought I might gain a few followers on Instagram, but didn’t think too much more about it… but then when their story came out, I gained like 10,000 followers almost literally overnight.

It just blew up. Within an hour I had 5000 followers. I had to turn off my phone for two days because it wouldn’t stop dinging.” But, amidst all this, he still had to just get on with his daily grind: getting to the next race. Fortunately, the Pinkbike exposure had boosted his marketability substantially. Deviate couldn’t have been happier, and they paid for his flights to the U.S so he could race those rounds – rounds he had previously thought would be beyond his ability to fund himself to get to.

Landing in Vancouver, he rode up the Sea to Sky highway – a reality check from the riding in Europe. “It wasn’t that far, but it was just gnarly. You’re literally fenced in, with lots of really fast highway traffic and trucks.” By this point, he was getting plenty of offers for rides from other teams – and of course there is public transport that he could have been utilising – but, by now, he had realised he’d stumbled onto his point of difference “Even with these other offers of rides, it had kind of turned into ‘I’m just biking the whole thing.’”

Arriving in Whistler, Deviate had been working in the background with SRAM to give him an unexpected surprise: Deviate were launching their new bike, the Claymore, and they had a brand new bike – decked out with all the top-end AXS and Rockshox equipment – to give to Matt, as well as a cash top-up for his riding fund. “I was absolutely blown away. Deviate had paid for my flights to Canada, and then I got given a new bike. It actually felt kinda fake. I still don’t know what to say. I couldn’t believe this was actually happening to me. It just didn’t seem real. I felt like I totally didn’t deserve it, but I was also so stoked.”

Here, he reluctantly had to jump on a plane. The 5000km from the west coast of Canada to the east coast of America was just too far. Landing in Quebec and crossing into the U.S.A proved problematic too. “They didn’t understand why I was bikepacking and why I was away for so long. They wanted to see bank statements to prove what I was doing, but I didn’t have any and I didn’t have any internet on my phone at that point and they wouldn’t let me use their internet. They were certain I was working illegally. They held me for ages, and I was a bit scared I was going to end up in jail but, after a while, they just seemed to get bored with me and let me go.”

Eventually the season came to an end. Did he enjoy himself? Absolutely. But he is also realistic about the difficulties of the experience too. “There were just massive waves of up and down. The lows are low, they really suck, and you question why you are even doing this. But the highs are so high.” At the end of the season, he had to make a decision – was he going to go do it all again? If he was, now was the time to be trying to engage more sponsors and hopefully make life that little bit easier. “I think I got on to the idea that this could actually be something. I started talking to a few companies and tried to get some sponsorship, and lots of them seemed stoked on the idea,” says Matt. “They wanted to see me do it again. I managed to get some actual funding which means I guess I’ve actually turned it into my job now, which is amazing – that was my big childhood goal.”

This season, he’s a bit smarter about the whole idea too. He’s discovered the mapping power of Komoot which takes him on much better routes than he rode the first time. “Komoot is amazing over here. It’s like Google Maps but focused on bikepacking. It takes you off the highways and takes you the scenic way. I’m off the highway as much as possible and usually in the middle of nowhere.” Which is really good because at least when he’s fatigued he’s not riding next to a highway. “Being in the middle of nowhere and tired is fine. Being fatigued and next to a highway is terrifying. I worry I’m going to lose concentration and swerve into a truck or something. Now I’m actually enjoying the riding way more. When I wake up on the morning after a race I’m looking forward to it now, when I wasn’t really before.”

He’s tweaked his system as well, securing obvious sponsorship from Tailfin backpacking equipment. “The biggest change I’ve made is going to the Tailfin bikepacking setup. Honestly I’m so stoked on it. I was so sick of the bikepacking bags sagging and wagging around. The Tailfin has this cool pannier system so I can take so much, and it is so much more secure. I’m sponsored by them, but it is genuinely awesome stuff. I’d buy it even if I wasn’t sponsored by them.”

However, despite knowing what he was in for, securing some sponsorship and feeling more pre- pared his second year hasn’t been totally problem free. In Tasmania, he suffered the results of maybe packing too light – a few extra quick links would have solved an unfortunate broken chain affair. “At the Maydena race I snapped my chain. I had used my spare quicklink in the race, but the chain must have got a bit bent. It was 10pm and I was riding to the next event in Derby, and I stood up on the pedals and the chain snapped again – and I only had that one quicklink that I’d used earlier. I had to be at Derby the next day to sign in by 4pm, and I still had seven hours of pedalling to go. The nearest bike shop was 45km away, so I had to jog my 45kg bike 45km through the night to the bike shop – in bike shoes, of course.” A marathon in bike shoes, pushing a fully laden enduro bike? Of course.

He also entered the Highland 550 bikepacking event in Scotland, just to mix things up from the enduros he had been riding. Here, he encountered freezing weather that took its toll. “I got caught between two passes in a storm. I couldn’t set up a shelter, so I had to get to a bothy (a basic Scottish highland hut) otherwise that would be it. I was just pushing so hard against the wind to get to this hut, I ended up getting mild hypothermia and I was hallucinating. It was really quite bad.” In the end, he was on the bike for 50 hours non-stop, and with cold wet feet for a lot of it. “At that event I did some damage to my body, some days I still can’t feel my feet and my hands get pins and needles. Even now when I’m riding in the EWS, I can’t work out how hard I’m holding on to the bars, so I hold on too tight, which means I then get arm pump, then my hands blow off the bars and it all happens before I know it. So, yeah, this year I’ve been falling off a lot.” Between races he has been trying to manage the nerve damage in his hands by riding with his arms spread across the bars, so he is steering more by leaning on his forearms rather than holding with his hands. Even with Deviate offering him rides in their team van now, he is still intent on riding between each race. “I guess I just like to have a point of difference, so I’ll just keep riding this wave and see where it takes me.

I ask him if maybe he should take some time off and sort out his nerve damage which can have long lasting effects, but he doesn’t seem too bothered by it yet. And, for now, he’s still enjoying himself. There’s too much going on to worry about the challenges.

“I’m just always in the moment. There is always so much going on. It is tough, but the highs definitely outweigh the lows and there isn’t anything else I’d rather be doing right now.”

WORDS: LESTER PERRY
ILLUSTRATIONS: GAZ SULLIVAN
PHOTOGRAPHY: CALEB SMITH

Standing atop the podium at the Lenzerheide World Cup 2023 opener, I wonder if Erice looks out over the crowd and thinks to herself: “This is just the beginning”. Is she viewing the win as just a stepping stone towards the future, or maybe wondering; “What the heck just happened, and how did I get here?”

What began as a simple obsession on a balance bike, following her brothers around, grew into a viral video of 10-year-old Erice proving the best mountain bike is whatever bike is beneath you. She tore up Rotorua’s trails aboard her coaster-brake-equipped 16-inch wheeled kids’ bike. The video spread like wildfire, reaching such lofty heights as being included in the now defunct Dirt Magazine’s 2017 Advent Calendar. Day 14 features Erice and the caption: “this could be the raddest video we’ve seen all year.” Other notable outlets picked up the video and, overnight, Erice was on the radar of every talent scout in the industry, promptly receiving several sponsorship requests.

Commencal was early to the party and ended up being the lucky suitor. Welcoming her to their global roster, their new 20” bike suited her perfectly. A few more years of growth; roll on the launch of their 24” MTB and Erice played the lead role in their launch campaign video, again tearing up the trails to international acclaim.

Fast forward through a couple of pandem- ic-tainted years and Erice is finally old enough to race Junior UCI World Cups, and ready to step onto the bottom rung of the Junior category. In early 2023, she was announced as joining the COMMENCAL LES ORRES Team and it was game on for the season.

Under the wing of Cécile Ravanel, no one doubted Erice would soon grace a world-level podium, but it was a surprise for it to come so soon. Erice’s 2023 season kicked off with a pair of EDR (Enduro) World Series rounds in Tasmania. First up was Maydena, where perfect conditions and varied terrain greeted riders. A tight battle ensued between Erice and Canada’s Emmy Lan. After Erice led through race day, Emmy stamped her authority on the last stage, bumping Erice into second place. Both riders were well over a minute ahead of Elly Hoskin, who rounded out the podium in third. Erice left Maydena surprised and stoked; she was at the EDR rounds as a test to gauge where she was at and was using the race as some training for the upcoming DH season.

“Erice’s bike skills, and her ability to just ride fast, are pretty impressive. The tracks don’t scare or worry her, and she just gets on with it. She’s not intimidated by much, it seems. So maybe with age that will change, but right now she’s just super impressive on gnarly tracks with gnarly features and just super confident on the jumps and everything.

– CAMERON COLE, FORMER WORLD JUNIOR DH CHAMP AND GT FACTORY RACING TEAM MANAGER.

I guess it’s a bike skills thing, but maybe she’s also just riding the bike to get the best out of it. I think bikes have changed quite a lot and you can trust them so much more nowadays. So maybe there’s something in that as well.” – Cameron Cole, Former World Junior DH Champ and GT Factory Racing team manager.

Round 2 of the EDR took in the now-famous Derby trails, some old, some new. Practice day was wet, and by all accounts just getting through the course that day was a task in itself. Race day was hot and humid, and the trails were still wet from the previous day’s rain.

“On race day I was thinking, I’m actually kinda up there so why not go for it!” explains Erice. After putting in a huge effort across the first five stages, she experienced painful leg cramps on the liaison to stage 6, which saw her stop multiple times to stretch out.

“I was a bit scared then that I wouldn’t be able to finish the race, because of the pain.” Fortunately, Erice pushed on, continuing her domination, topping every stage and obliterating her U21 competition. Her overall time would have placed her 16th in the Pro Women’s class!

Finishing her Tassie time on a high, she set her sights on the main goal of her season: the World Cup Downhill series. Six weeks after her win in Derby, she lined up at the opening round of the French DH Series; another race, another win! With momentum building over the last few races, she was back in action a month later – this time at the World Cup season opener in Lenzerheide, Switzerland.

“The track in Lenzerheide was so sick, the sections just linked up real good,” says Erice. “It’s obviously a difficult track but it allows you to push quite hard for speed, which is cool. The top section on the off-camber grass and then onto the famous off-camber corner were the most difficult for me, it was still fun though. I just enjoyed the track heaps and that’s when you ride your best.”

For the first time in history, the Junior races were broadcast live and free on YouTube, allowing friends, family and fans from across the world to see the future stars of the sport laying the foundations for their careers. Watching the action unfold over the week, clips of Erice practising surfaced. What we saw was a confident, solid riding style which piqued onlookers’ interest and had com- mentators picking her as one to watch.

A crash in qualifying put her in second place. But, harnessing her nerves, she headed for the start hut to take on her final run, confident her pace was there. Minimising outside distractions, she visualised the track, focussed on the present and task at hand, rolled forward and broke the timing beam.

“As I was injured at Lenzerheide, I spent a fair chunk of time trackside and that included watching the always entertaining junior practice. I’d followed Erice online but hadn’t really seen or met her in real life, and from run one in Lenzerheide it was fairly obvious that she had something special going on.

NZ DH with Erice at the helm is in safe hands both on and off the track. Her skills are something else, but so is her infectious stoke for both the riding and the other girls she was racing against. Big grins and big wins seem to be the ticket here.” – Eddie Masters, Pivot Factory Racing pro.

Five sectors made up the track. Erice started slow, building across the first three splits, then demolished the final two to put her just over four seconds in the green. She’d just secured her first junior World Cup win!

“When I won my first World Cup, the feeling was insane!” explains Erice. “I was totally over the moon. Having my dad and one of my brothers there, and some family friends, made it extra special! Another highlight was getting to see family after two and a half months. It’s so, so cool being over in Europe racing, but it is hard not seeing the fam for a while.”

Riding the high of her win, everything was looking positive as the World Cup circus headed to Leogang, Austria. A win in the qualifier put her as the fastest seed coming into the finals.

“In Leogang, I was feeling really mentally strong in my warmup at the top and on the rollers, but once I got into the start gate, the nerves hit me and I lost that composure, and that obviously didn’t work out great for me.”

Only a couple of corners into the track, Erice took a huge crash – over the bars, down a bank and onto a gravel road. A dead-stop hit that even the hardiest of rugby players wouldn’t have bounced up from.

“It was the scariest crash I’ve ever had,” recalls Erice. “I just fully body-slammed the ground and didn’t roll or anything to break my fall. Just hit it and stopped. I winded the crap out of myself so that was pretty scary because I couldn’t breathe for a bit. I can’t believe that I got away with two sore wrists and a sore torso! Nothing was broken, but I couldn’t finish the race. Looking on the positive side though, I’ve learned a lot of lessons. So, I’ll take that.”

A short two-week break between Leogang and the following round in Val Di Sole left minimal time to get her body back in shape after her crash; no downhill riding and just light road riding and gym work saw Erice nervous coming into round three. Getting back on the bike and straight into one of the most challenging tracks on the cir- cuit took all the resilience and determination she could muster.

Fellow Kiwi, Sacha Earnest, was also returning from injury at Val Di Sole, ready to take on the Junior Women’s field. Qualifying saw tight time splits between Erice and Sacha, the latter taking the number one points on the day. In finals, the cards stacked the same way, Sacha taking her first World Cup win, and Erice in second. Erice left the venue happy with her performance, and proud of how she’d bounced back after the crash in Leogang. Second was almost as good as a win!

Next up for the young star is the Downhill World Championships in Fort William, Scotland. But first, some training at team sponsor Les Orres’ bike park and a test event in Loudenvielle in the lead-up to the World Cup event there at the start of September. Erice’s calendar is chocka!

The World Cup continues throughout the year, culminating with the final round in Mont-Sainte-Anne, Canada, in early October. We’ll be watching Erice and compatriot Sacha closely as the rounds tick off. Fingers crossed we’ll have two Kiwis atop the overall World Cup podium come the end of the season – which order they’ll be in is anyone’s guess.