Features

Words: Alex Stevens
Photography: Cameron Mackenzie

On site at Crankworx Cairns, back in May, photographer and writer Cam Mackenzie was keen to snatch a few hours away from work and enjoy riding one of his favourite mountain biking destinations. With good mate and pro rider, Sam Blenkinsop, also in Cairns to compete, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to introduce him to another good friend – local and pro rider, Berend Boer – to showcase what Cairns had to offer. Cam tells the story:

Over the years, I’ve been fortunate enough to travel to Cairns, for work, almost yearly since the Downhill World Champs was hosted there in 2017. Off the back of that trip, I fell in love with the area, its diverse trails, red dirt and grandeur, but was also fortunate to meet my now-close friend, Berend Boer. In the years since, I’ve been back and forth for various different tourism projects, showcasing mountain biking in the far north in what I hope has been an engaging and relatable kind of way.

With Crankworx and major events coming back to Tropical North Queensland, and Cairns in par- ticular, it dawned on me that we come and go so quickly within these regions, and often we just don’t get the time to ride and enjoy all the fun trails I’ve come to know through the local riders over the years. So, this year, going back to Cairns for Crankworx, I saw a really cool opportunity to introduce two great mates and go for a really awesome explore through the rainforest, show- casing Cairns to Blenki. Although he was fizzing to compete – and had a hectic race schedule, as he pointed out – what’s the point of coming to these places if you don’t get to see them for what they are?

Blenki and I were both travelling from New Zealand and knew we would have quite a limited amount of time on the ground. With an already busy event schedule subject to inevitable changes due to the weather in the tropics, we had quite a small window of opportunity to get off site and into the jungle. Luckily, Blenki had his new Bosch- powered Crestline, which he was able to bring with him, and Berend and I were able to pinch a couple of Mondraker Crafty Rs, also sporting the latest smart system kit from Bosch, from the guys at Mondraker Australia. Without the eBikes, we wouldn’t have been able to check out even half the spots we did, nor would we have been able to maximise our short windows of opportunity.

Mountain biking in Cairns goes back several decades, when influential and pioneering locals like Glen Jacobs first recognised its potential, in the 1980s. You can tie back points in time to key developments of mountain biking in the region, with the Cairns Mountain Bike Club hosting its first nationals in the early 1990s, and World Cup events following soon afterwards in 1994 and 1995, then the UCI World Champs in 1996. A fuse had been lit and, since then, mountain biking has continued to grow in the region.

Whether it was dedicated locals looking to build more trails for themselves to ride, or trying to bolster the region’s offerings, these different trails and parks have combined to create a strong, diverse network that stretches all the way along the coast and deep into the tablelands.

Hidden in the hills behind the James Cook University campus, 20 minutes north of the city, Smithfield Mountain Bike Park was where the first international race was held and has now become the epicentre for mountain biking in Cairns. With Smithfield also being the venue for Crankworx Cairns, this seemed like the perfect place to begin our exploration.

The terrain in Smithfield is really steep in spots. You’ve got lower undulating grassland trails but also stuff that rises high and steep into the jungle canopy, which the eBikes were perfect for. The Nationals downhill track, for example, is so steep that the ride up is almost inaccessible on a traditional bike. On an eBike though, you can just blast up there like you would in a shuttle vehicle – but self-propelled. The trail is one of the steeper, longer, rocky trails in the park, which was exactly the kind of thing we were looking to ride and showcase. It’s a real staple of Cairns, and feeds into other parts of the park really well, linking a brake-burner descent into fast, flowy turns and lofty jumps like those found on the newly built trail, Bowhunters.

With a few laps under our belts, that soon wrapped up a quick taster for what Cairns had to offer on the first day. Had time allowed, we would also have ventured out to the Atherton Tablelands. Only an hour or so drive from Cairns and sitting around 1000m above sea level, Atherton is a beautiful, quaint country town, full of small-town pubs and really quiet, with a less humid climate. With Atherton sitting much higher than Cairns – and to some degree, sitting in the clouds – the bush cover is made up more of eucalyptus and gum than the dense tropical rainforest found lower down. The dirt is similar, a bit more rocky and gravelly, but the trails are built in such a way that they are quite different to those down on the coast in Cairns.

If you’re visiting the area and have a bit of time, I’d definitely recommend checking it out, especially on an eBike. The bike trails are all on one face, out the back of the township, with some big grunty climbs and lots of short descents running off everywhere – perfect for repeating cool little loops on an eBike. On the way home, be sure to stop off at Lake Tinaroo for a cool down before heading back into the hustle and bustle of Cairns.

The next evening, we decided to boost out after the event finished and make the most of the hour and a half of daylight we had remaining. Berend really wanted to show us some of the lesser-known trails in an area up near Copperlode Dam, to the west of the city. Just 15km away from Smithfield, this area offers a distinctly different riding experience, as well as climate. Sitting higher up into the bigger mountains, there are reservoirs and dams, and the terrain is quite raw and rugged. It’s definitely somewhere you need to go with a local, and we were stoked to have Berend guiding us in this unique area, particularly with the weather turning stormy and the light all but non-existent. It was definitely too dark to shoot any photos, so this one will just have to stay etched in our memories!

It turned into a pretty hilarious scene: the three of us all of varying skill level from pro (Blenki and Berend) to not-pro (me), trying to keep up with each other riding some of the steepest trails in Cairns, in near on dark. Add in the fact that we were also in one of the most dangerous parts of Australia, where if you fall you’ll not only rip your clothes to shreds, you’ll also be waiting a while for a rescue, or a snake could come across the trail at any moment. Somehow, this all just added to the hilarity of the situation.

Cairns is really unique in its topography; you have these crazy, steep, rugged hills clad in UNESCO World Heritage rainforest rising out from the sea. It’s an insane juxtaposition between one natural wonder of the world, the Great Barrier Reef, sitting right next to the Daintree rainforest which extends across the coastline as far as the eye can see. Our mission for the next morning was to head out early to experience the stunning views across the city, and the reef at sunrise, before blasting some fun trails back down to a great coffee, whilst beating the heat and getting a run in before another day of events.

We opted to head up to Kuranda, one of the original tracks in Cairns, which runs off the side of the Kuranda Range Road and through to the famous Kuranda village and railway, sitting deep in the ranges behind the city. We had the option of either riding up on the eBikes quickly, or shuttling up like you would on a traditional bike, opting for the latter due to the early start. The main start point for the Kuranda trails is a beautiful lookout and, from there, we had the pick of some of Cairns’ oldest trails or the option to ride the newer community-built trails that Berend himself works on, rides and loves. We opted for the tried and true option that morning, showing Blenki what Cairns is so well known for in the downhill space: the Kuranda Downhill Trail.

No matter where you go and explore in Cairns, you can find the most incredibly diverse ecosystems within the forest, changing from one location to the next. That morning, up on Kuranda, we got super lucky: we were ripping along and, on our way out at the bottom, we stumbled upon a grove of butterflies which Berend, who was leading us out, disturbed. As Blenki and I arrived, Berend was screaming in excitement at the scene that lay before us. It was like riding into a butterfly sanctuary.

There were thousands of butterflies floating in the air underneath the canopy. You just don’t get stuff like that anywhere else in the world. By the time we’d gotten to the bottom, we were giddy. We’d just ridden this super fun trail with beautiful, big, flowing berms into steep rooty goodness – whatever you wanted it was there; flow, steep stuff – then, all of a sudden, you come across these butterflies. All before eight in the morning.

The wildlife is definitely one of the highlights of riding in this beautiful, unique area. As well as the butterflies on our early morning ride we saw plenty of other little critters out on the trails. It’s nice to know that there are also safe swimming spots where you can cool down without the fear of crocodiles, jellyfish, snakes, spiders or whatever else might be lurking. Luckily, Cairns has lots of these little hidden gems. Wherever you ride, you’re never more than ten minutes from neat little waterfalls, beautiful running streams or watering holes right in the middle of nowhere, amidst the incredible ancient rainforest.

The Volcanic Epic is NZ’s newest and longest multi-day cross-country MTB event. After a storied journey to the start, the inaugural edition kicked off on 23 March 2023. Riders competed as individuals or two-person teams, across either two or four-day options.

Every rider came to the Volcanic Epic start line with their own story. For some, it was overcoming cancer or mental health struggles just to be there on the line, the event being the culmination of hard work and persistence, putting a cap on their recovery and proving they could overcome seemingly insurmountable challenges just to be there. For others, it was an opportunity to get away from ‘normal’ life and simply ‘Ride, Relax and Repeat’ (the tagline of the event), a twisted holiday of sorts.

It wasn’t just the competitors who’d climbed metaphorical mountains to be there – the event organisers, Nduro Events, headed by Tim and Belinda Farmer, had to tackle equally as large challenges just to make the event happen.

Winding the clock back to 2019, Tim was headed to the Port-to-Port stage race in Australia. Training in the bank, he was eager for the experience. Early in the first stage, a rider wiped out Tim’s front wheel, taking him down and in the process smashing up his shoulder. Whilst laid up in the hospital, a seed was planted.

“Why can’t we have more stage racing like this back home in the North Island?” Tim pondered. The Pioneer (at the time NZ’s only MTB stage race) was touted to be heading north from its home in the south, so Tim parked the idea of creating one himself.

Covid-19 took a scythe to events – literally overnight it completely shredded almost every event promoter’s plans. The owners of the Pioneer didn’t just postpone their event, but completely shelved it, opening the door for Tim and his crew to create their own stage race.

“There were people who wanted to do stage racing and couldn’t because Pioneer was gone,” explains Tim. “We wanted to fill that gap.”

The ‘Epic’ name came about whilst scouting for event venues. Every site visit culminated with the narrative, “this is going to be epic”. The phrase stuck and, when combined with the volcanic nature of the areas the stages would visit, the ‘Volcanic Epic’ name was coined.

Covid’s grasp on the community loosened in late 2021, and events slowly returned to the calendar (albeit under hefty restrictions). Spirits were high heading towards a rescheduled late January 2022 date for Nduro’s premier sin- gle-day event, the Whaka 100. Unfortunately, numerous pandemic-related issues brought a last-minute cancellation, leaving the upcoming Volcanic Epic as the organisation’s final – and only – event for the summer. Again, Covid drew its sword. A fresh spike in COVID numbers, and a change in government regulations, meant they wouldn’t be able to deliver the event anywhere near the level they needed to, and the difficult decision was made to push the event out to the following year.

Reflecting on the postponement, Tim explains: “We were passengers in the whole process, but we were committed. When you enter, forty percent of your entry fees are instantly committed to an event, so there was no option to pull out.” Belinda adds, “We were still 100% committed to running the event after we got through the Covid period, to do it for the participants.”

With the commitment to go forward, new staff were hired, and a full crew was assembled. “There are six full-time staff in the team now, and we had 28 to deliver the event. We originally had 31, but we had people get Covid just before the event started, and family bereavements and emergencies and all sorts of stuff. Volcanic Epic had 28 paid staff on it, with six full-time in the end.”

The 2023 date was locked in and the entire Nduro Events team set to work preparing to finally deliver their first Volcanic Epic.

Everything was rolling towards the event as planned, and it looked like the major hurdles had been overcome and wrinkles ironed out. The weather gods didn’t want it to be that easy though, and a month out from Stage 1, Cyclone Gabrielle flexed its destructive muscle, felling a huge block of pines and closing the trails in the Craters MTB Park (Taupo), where Stage 3 was to take place. Yet another hurdle the team would have to overcome to deliver their event.

Fast forward a month and over 500 hardy souls lined up at Te Puia, in Rotorua, ready to kick off the first of four stages. It wasn’t just locals boarding the Volcanic Epic train though – post Covid, international riders were once again lining up for NZ events.

“They came from Seattle, Mexico, Canada. We had people from England, Scotland, New Caledonia, Australia. A guy from France. We’d almost forgotten about our international community since borders had been closed, but it’s fantastic to see their return,” says Tim.

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: Ben Hildred
Photography: Callum Wood

After sixty plus hours of sleep deprived pedal turning, events felt a little less cohesive and the world nonuniform; laps were completely forgotten, time didn’t pass the same, my bike moved differently beneath me, and body parts became numb, cold, and alien. Walking was novel and eating was the only chore that hindered the new norm – making circles with my feet.

12:00am, February 26th. Wakatipu lake front; a navy sky diluted by street lights. Calm. About to pedal more than I ever have. Bike ride begins.

1:10am. First ascent complete, Ben Lomond saddle. The distant constellation of Queenstown feels incandescent, a familiar glow in comparison to the Milky Way, floating and exposed above. Some 1000 metres of elevation every lap. First lap far too fast, overly excited. Headlight exposes the descent; black singletrack snakes a dark bottomless ridge-line, insisting pensive focus.

6:58am. Daylight emerges over the silhouetted Remarkables, the solid black gate generously sur- rendering first light to Queenstown. Far enough into lap four to be above the cloud, an inversion making the repetition of pedalling feel accomplished so early on. First three laps a sub two hour loop, productive yet unsustainable, remembering to eat little and often. Positive, full and eager.

1:37pm. Midday. Progress has settled down to a comfortable churn of familiar and trusting trail. I’m 6100m elevation in. Tried eating one of my pre- made marmite, peanut butter and spinach wraps – swallowing that cocktail of stodge the hardest task so far. Still, onwards and upwards. Grateful for the necessary lathering of suncream needed for the hour of alpine exposure coming up, beautiful weather. Thoughtful and focused.

5:11pm. Soon to tick over 8000 metres. Stopping in the last patch of beech forest before the now relentless exposure of the loops summit, Ben Lomond saddle. Looking for my hidden backpack stashed in the bush, vital for the last push and descent. Chocker with food, water, smoothie and essen- tials. It had been taken. Later found to be a good Samaritan naively handing in lost property. Visibly, mildly distressed I was approached by a young family with a backpack baby, insisting wildly generous help. Lap fuelled by wildberry baby food. Thankful and persistent.

7:36pm. Top of lap nine, a big crew of good sorts see me over the first Everest, savouring the energy, anticipating looming darkness. The shadow of Ben Lomond slowly swallowing up my trail. Hasty to avoid the chill, we descended straight away in a train of hoots and hollers, harnessing everyone’s stoke to get me up here another eight times. Grateful and brimming. Onto new, untrod territory.

1:10am. The second night. Soon to turn over 10,000 vertical metres, willing myself to carry on. The short sighted dark compounded with a distinct and concerning drop in temperature, battling the natural circadian urge to sleep. First attempt to have a nap, I set an alarm for fifteen minutes. It went off instantly. With phone still in my hand, unsure whether I’d slept, whether my thoughts had been dreams. I’d push to the top in great company, words were few and far between, all energy used to go forward. The mountains now sleeping, shadows framing another feast of stars. Numb, though now very invested.

Two, three, four? Maybe five? The next couple of laps I cannot recollect, somehow I’d chalked up another two thousand metres with two full loops. The only thing I remember was being laid in dry, dead pine off the side of the trail where I’d fallen. Somehow, on the climb, I’d taken a tumble. Still unsure whether it was a handlebar nap or poor coordination. Thankfully unscathed, and pulled back up to safety, we carried on. I’m indebted to Jamie and Annie and their company that entire night; their selfless, duty-bound help got me through.

After that minor ordeal, roughly five in the morning, we were gifted something so superlative it got me brimming with joy. Our mate, Steve, met us halfway up a mountain. Still dark, his head torch illuminated the steam rising from three ready-made Yorkshire teas, sat trailside. The sun was on its way, the metres were disappearing, my body was waking up and it tasted like victory. Relieved and excited for first light.

7:30am. Not out the woods yet. I would say I know the Skyline access road better than anyone, but, majorly sleep deprived, this well-trod road threw a few curve balls. In the early hours of light, just before mid-way and in the nick of time, I spotted a deep, clear water moat, impassable and flowing over the road. I was hallucinating.

Grabbing a handful of brake, I almost came to a stop before it disappeared. I made a more considered effort to keep my head high and look ahead, setting small goals to pedal towards and keep my mind occupied and focused. Luckily, I had my head held up, as no sooner had the moat disappeared a series of unevenly placed wooden door frames jumped out at me. With my peripheral vision absent, it took my upmost attention to swerve and weave through them. The oddest experience and the last of that carry on for the remainder of the ride. Confused and bemused we rode on.

2:11pm. After first light’s free spirited bohemian lap, the morning felt rather uneventful; chugging along the tracks of my route like a steady and conservative diesel engine. Time soon passed, as did the metres. Almost 14,000 metres in, I got to midway, where I’d allow myself a rest and recoup. It was on this lap an uncomfortable and grounding pain made me feel very human and quite frail. Familiar with the occasional heart murmur, I knew this thud in my chest and erratic, offbeat rhythm should be okay, although it always makes you acutely and presently aware of your mortality. Conscious this could be an issue, I had a small Bluetooth device with me that takes ECG recordings. Held tight between my thumbs it came back with ‘atrial fibrillation’. I chose to rest a bit longer that lap before carrying on, back on task – some would say foolishly.

4:15pm. In charge of photography, and one of my consistent good sorts keeping company for this pedal, Callum noted I’d run out of water high up the climb and, without hesitation, slogged a 10 litre barrel of water up the mountain in his camera bag. What a champ, The sun was still blinding and aggressive. I’d been awake without any proper sleep for around 55 hours now, climbed over 15,000 metres and descended over 100km of mountain bike trails. I felt completely hollow, the bottom of the barrel had been scraped dry. It became very easy to distinguish between my physical, mental and emotional energy. In rhythm, I’d scoop into each energy source one at a time while the others did their best to recover. You could switch easily from a mindset of body, concentrating on making circles with your feet and pushing down past the ground, to a mindset of determination, trust and belief, always mindful to eject that energy reserve for another before any wavering internal apathy kicks in. It became a fragile juggling act – anyone who tried to help or support me during that period was met with someone quite silent and vacant, a shell of the person they had planned to see, but understanding – I hoped – that as grateful as I was, I didn’t want to see anyone for a short period as I couldn’t give them the gratitude and thanks they deserved for helping me out. Burnt out and dry, so close.

6:38pm. The bottom of the final full lap. A group of familiar, friendly faces greeted me there and the team grew as we climbed higher together. What a treat to have so much encouragement and help from the incredible community here in Queenstown. By the time we reached the summit, the Remarkables mountain range wore an red evening glow, and Ben Lomond above us sheltered the sun. Everything felt it was coming to an end. Sharing that last full climb with friends was extra special, many moments there are forever held in memory. I was 17,300 meters in and feeling my last ‘second’ wind as we all descended together. So grateful and appreciative.

9:10pm. The last push. I couldn’t close the loop off nice and neat at the top of the last full lap, so still had a few hundred metres to find. It was getting cold, fingers pained after that descent, determined not to go into a third night. Most of last lap’s crew were now invested and seeing it out until the end. Together we climbed, again. This time round, my focus was sharply squared at my cycling computer, watching the metres fall away, navigated by the sound of people talking around me, a comforting echolocation on a road I know all too well.

The last hundred metres never seemed to stop. By this time everyone wanted to know the score, nothing else made any sense.

Eventually, finally, at the end of the beech forest, I’d ticked over the double Everest. Pausing and uploading the ride data, I sat on a rock I’d used at a rest stop every lap. Unsure how to think or consider the bike ride, I felt underwhelmed and disappointed in my lack of enthusiasm or stoke, unable to show any joy or thanks to everyone who was there to share the moment, who made the effort to see it out. All I wanted to do was go home, shower and sleep. Maybe everyone was expecting an emotional spew of relief or elation, but all tanks were empty. It was done.

I’d like to thank Jonny Ashworth and Callum Wood for documenting the ride with video and photography, being there to help and witness it all. Annie Ford for being with me throughout and providing the upmost support – making sure I ate, drank and didn’t fall off – what a trooper. Jamie McKay, who always offers the most incredible company on the toughest days, unwavering, and went on to do an Everest of his own while riding with me, incredible! Thanks to everyone else who showed willing and came along for a pedal, it made the experience unforgettable. Thank you.

Where do you even start with this? Is it by talking about the radically new and different transmission system SRAM has just come out with? Or should I start by saying just how much of an all-star crew we had for this trip? How about the epic riding Queenstown provided? Or should we just talk about how good the food was at Atlas? Well, I guess I’ll cover it all below.

I’m a bit of a super tech bike nerd. I love trolling through the Vital MTB forums, looking at all the new and interesting stuff people dig up and find out there on the World Wide Web. How they find what they do I will never know.

They even manage to find stuff that is meant to be hidden from the public, months before it’s due to be released. It must be a nightmare for brands trying to keep things hush-hush, but it helps builds mystery and a lust for the things we can’t have yet. One of the very things I saw on this forum was SRAM’s new AXS drive chains. They weren’t really hiding it from the public, though, as it was already on a few of the pro’s bikes in the latter half of the EWS and XC season last year. The derailleur, cassette and chain were different; instead of being mounted to a hanger, the derailleur is mounted directly to the frame. I saw it and thought to myself, ‘that’s really cool, I like what they’re doing there’, then sort of left it. I didn’t really think about it all that much after that. I was sure it was going to be as good as any other AXS derailleur when it came out. Boy, was I wrong.

When Liam called about this trip, I was flipping stoked. Not just because we would get to ride the new product, but mostly because Chris Mandell from SRAM was coming over to talk us through the product and ride with us. I originally met Chris in Whistler, way back in the day when I lived there. I got to do a few laps of the bike park with him and boy oh boy, can he ride a bike well! I think I first read about Chris in Dirt magazine; it was a short piece about him, his BMX background and the Kona Entourage. Chris has done many things in the industry, he’s a man who’s worn many caps, including working at Kona, designing the original process line of bikes (technical Gen 2 processes) – that you could argue really started the longer, lower slacker trend – and working at Rock Shox as rear shock product manager. The latest Super Deluxe Air is his baby and that shock rips. And now he’s working for SRAM. I’d say I’m a little bit of a Chris Mandell superfan, so I was stoked to get to ride with him again and show him around Queenstown.

My original plan for the few days we had, was to start with a sunrise shoot at Ben Lomond saddle. It would have been a 4am grind up to the saddle to get the sun just poking over the Remarkables. For the five weeks prior, in Queenstown, we had really lucked out on the weather. There hadn’t been a drop of rain and no clouds to be seen, but the weather forecast was predicting rain for the days we wanted to ride and shoot. Typical. Liam and I caught up with Chris the night before the shoot/ride days started. We headed to Atlas for food, beer, planning and shooting the shit. Chris was stoked on the idea of a super-early-start sunrise mission, so we hummed and hawed about the idea. Rechecking all the weather apps suggested rain in the morning and not clearing until later in the day, so the 4am idea got sacked off. The new plan was for everyone to meet at a cafe in the morning and go from there – a bit more of a leisurely time.

That morning, we met up with the rest of the crew: a bunch of heavy hitters; low-key savages on two wheels – and all as humble as they come.

Ben Hildred, the Vertical Metre Eater.
This lanky, tea-drinking Englishman has probably climbed more metres than anyone else in New Zealand, from Everesting and Double Everesting to being the first to complete the Olympus Mons Challenge, doing K2 and climbing one million feet in 200 days. He just loves riding his bike – and all things related to bikes. With a previous history in BMX, he brings that culture to his riding – playing about with the trail, jibing and getting creative – even on the uphills. He treats his 29er trail bike like a BMX, using his long limbs to his advantage.

Dan Booker, the Mayor of Maydena.
A flat-pedal assassin that has more raw talent than many of the top pros. His bike skills and balance are incredible. Seriously, watch some of his manual videos. Silky smooth whilst being stupidly fast. I’d argue he will de-throne Sam Hill soon for the title of fastest flat-pedal rider. It wouldn’t surprise me if you see him nearing the top step in this year’s EWS season.

Last but not least, Andrew Clark.
Hailing from Scotland but now residing in New Zealand, Andrew is the most low-key, chilled-out chap and is as humble as they come. He’s one of the best bike riders that no one knows about! He oozes style, with an ability to contort his bike and body into positions that the laws of physics shouldn’t allow. Take Newton’s laws of motion and throw them out the window when Andrew rides. It’s mind-bending to watch. All while having a massive smile on his face. I wanted Chris to meet him and see what he can do, because it really is something special to watch.

The rain was coming down as we inhaled our coffees the following morning. But, up the lake, you could see it starting to get brighter. We decided to make a move and go ride some bikes. We were heading to the beech forest anyway and like my mother used to say; “you’re not made of sugar”.

We parked at the bottom of the Skyline access road and, as we unloaded our bikes, I finally got to take a good look at the new stuff. It was quite the radical departure from your traditional mech. Mounted directly to the frame via a big clevis mount, the derailleur looked slick and futuristic. It had almost taken some of the cyberpunk aesthetic and feel that Hyundai is using in their cars with sharp lines throughout, highlighted by the brushed alloy metal on the black derailleur. It’s a solid unit of a mech – it looks like you could take this thing through the gates of hell, and it would come out unscathed. The new cassette was a work of art as well. As you look closer you realise SRAM have added X Sync to the cassette. Like, mind-blowing stuff. The new shifter – or pods as SRAM refer to them – have a more traditional, ergonomic design to them compared to the previous generation. It uses a two-button system, one placed above the other, with rubber paddles that require a push to make them feel like a shift versus a tap. The return spring built into the paddle gives you that positive, almost mechanical, feel. To me though, the pièce de résistance was the new XO cranks. They are gorgeous. A change from carbon to alloy, they are unlike anything else on the market (well, minus 5 Dev). They’re minimalist, cyberpunky and abstract. You can tell they used what they learned about their AI crank program and applied it to this. There’s a hole near the crank bolt, highlighted by the brushed metal accent that gives the look of a drawing compass. The bushed metal part has been placed in the part of the crank where you’re most likely to get foot rub, thus keeping the crank looking brand new for years for us chronic shoe crank pedal rubbers. The final piece that sets these apart, is the return of the bash guard. Why these ever fell out of fashion I don’t know, but I’m so glad to see them back. They mount on the chainring and can be removed if you see fit. I’m such a fan of these.

I was so distracted by the transmission that I didn’t even notice the new code brakes. The silver and black theme continued here. The polished calipers are a thing of beauty; these have stayed the same as the current codes, but where the changes have been made is in the lever. The levers now run parallel with the bars. When you see them, you’re like; “why haven’t they done this before?!”. It just makes so much sense. No more sticking out at 45-degrees, and the cables run much nicer. I feel like the 45-degree brake is just a hangover from V brake levers and no one ever thought, ‘hey, we could just make them run parallel with the bar, keep it nice and tidy’. From the first couple of pulls on the levers, you can tell there’s been some reworking for the internals. Lighter to pull than the previous code RSC. What I did think was weird, was that the new caliper – that had been seen on some of the World Cup racer’s bikes this last season – wasn’t there. Maybe SRAM is holding it back for another brake. I guess time will tell.

Chris explained that there are three tiers of these new AXS groupsets: X01, XX1 and XX1 SL.

We all jumped on our bikes and set off up Skyline access road in search of trails in the beech forest just outside the bike park. It’s a steep grind of a road – anyone who has ridden it will know. Starting at its steepest for the first third, before mellowing off a bit. The clouds were spitting a light amount of rain which was a refreshing change from the previous weeks of blaring sun and no shade – you didn’t feel like you were about to melt into a puddle by the fourth steep switchback. The steep fire road was the perfect place to test the gears under load. The gradient means you have to put a lot of force through the transmission and, being a road, it let you concentrate on what the gears were doing when you shifted. I guess I was in the perfect place to shift like an idiot under load and test these new gears. From the first shift, you realise this is something special – it’s not just another groupset, another new drive chain, it’s more than that. It’s the crispest shifting I’ve ever experienced. It has such a positive feel to it. There is that reassuring ‘clunk’ as it moves into gear, almost mechanical but with the precision of electronics. Lightning fast; instant, precise. Even under load in the worst possible moment to shift, it was still absolutely light years ahead of everything else. Whatever you have learned about not shifting under load, you can now throw out the window. This new system does it with ease. I think a big factor is the added stiffness of the direct mount, and the X Sync teeth on the cassette, but SRAM have also made many tiny tweaks that have really optimised the system. We’ll discuss them later.

The pace was hot, with Ben leading the charge. I guess that’s what happens when you are riding with a bunch of absolute savages. The relentless access road mellowed slightly towards mid-way and gave me time to get my breath under control. We stopped at the mid-way point and Chris told us some stories about the adventures he’d been on. After a quick break, we set off again up the second part of the road. I’ve ridden this road so many times over the years and it never gets any easier. If you get fitter, you just end up going faster. It’s surprisingly addictive to pedal up the road – even though it shouldn’t be. As the trees start to thin out, you reach the Skyline top gondola. We continued heading up via Beeched As, then Ben Lomond walking track to Lower Missing Link – a favourite trail of mine. It’s a perfect balance of flowy beech forest mixed with a little bit of tech. It’s a fantastic trail that works for all abilities, and it was running great after recent maintenance work by the crew at Elevate Trails.

The trail starts off out in the open and winds its way down into the beech forest – this is where it really gets good. We stopped and sessioned bits on the trail while I shot photos. The first feature we stopped on was a bomb hole compression to a small jump. From the get-go, Andrew was blowing minds. He had literally just jumped on the SRAM-equipped Megatower that morning, without any time to get used to it, and rough settings. He came over the rise into the bomb hole, doing an inverted nose press over it, all tucked up in ways that shouldn’t be possible. Smooth as you like. Chris’s face lit up – “what the heck?!” From that point on, I knew we were in for a good day.

We worked our way down the trail, sessioning different parts. Everyone fed off the energy of each other. Dan would be throwing some huge shapes off the smallest mounds while also travelling at a ridiculous speed through the turns. You could feel the earth trembling as he passed. Andrew was doing Andrew things; bending the laws of physics and gapping into switchback turns that shouldn’t be gapped into. Both Dan and Andrew’s styles complement each other, making it so good to watch. Chris was the hype man of the day, throwing out hype and stoke every time something cool happened, genuinely so excited by what was going on. Throwing out ideas. It was infectious. Everyone was just going harder and harder. Chris and Ben were bringing their BMX background to the trail. Throwing down tweaks that are better than a lot of the pros, dancing their bikes down the trail in such a beautiful manner. Smooth and light, their long limbs smoothing out the compressions, they’re two great people to watch flow down a trail. Such a joy to watch. Fantastic.

After Missing Link we headed down Creaky Winders and shot some more photos. This is another absolute gem of a trail. It snakes off of Beeched As and is a perfect mix of tech and flow. It’s niggly and tight in some spots; weaving up and down. It keeps you on your feet with lots of little features, surrounded by beautiful beech forest. It’s tremendous. Everyone was just peaking on this trail; fizzing and pushing each other, over and over. We worked our way down the trail, checking off features as we went. Near the end of the trail, I could tell people were getting tired. Mistakes were happening. I called it a day on the shoot. It was time to head to town and refuel.

We followed the Fernhill Loop back to the bike park and down Squid Run in a train. The crew might have been tired but that wasn’t slowing anyone down. We weaved our way down trying to hold the wheel of Dan. It was another good test of the transmission, which was a lot quieter than my current GX AXS – less chain slap. The shift was more positive even on the way down. Some will say, “ah yeah, that’s just because it’s brand new!”. But the set I was riding wasn’t – it had been used for a few weeks, making how well it worked even more impressive. It was an absolute blast training down Squid Run at the pace we were going. Borderline dangerous with everyone feeling so tired. At the bottom, we all had huge grins on our faces.

All good rides finish with a beer, right?

We rolled back down to the local watering hole to refuel – there was only one place to go, and Atlas was that place. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: it’s the perfect after-ride spot, with great atmosphere, lovely staff, killer food and 22 taps of fantastic beverages to choose from. We fueled up on beer and burgers whilst chatting bikes and trails. Before the inevitable food coma set in, we headed out quickly for a little more time on the products. A few chilled laps in the Fernhill/ McGnarly area, with one lap down Skyripper and a McGnarly to finish the day’s riding. The more I rode the product, the more I liked using it. You just know that when you pull the button to shift, it will do it; there’s no need to worry about a little under-power half pedal to help it shift – just pedal as you would, and the chain will shift on the cog. It really does improve the enjoyment of climbing. The slightly altered rations in the cassette were also a welcome improvement. No more big jumps between the 42t to 52t; instead you 44-52 jump, which feels a lot nicer. It doesn’t sound like a lot, but it makes a difference – there’s less of a sudden change in ratio. It’s hard to put in words the feeling of the new transmission over the previous stuff, it’s just an overall feeling of a much nicer time while shifting. A good analogy would be to compare driving a car from 10 years ago to driving a brand new, modern car with all the bells and whistles. Both do the same thing, but the newer car is easier to drive, more relaxing, quieter, with more features to assist you. Overall it’s just a more enjoyable experience.

Both laps of the Fernhill area were a blast. The party train down McGnarly was ridiculous. Bikes were dancing left and right over the jumps. Berms were being blown up by Andrew, Dan, Ben and Chris. Dust explosions everywhere. It was flipping awesome. Too much fun. Then things started falling apart on Skyripper. The long day had taken its toll, everyone was tired and mistakes started happening. I set off first, only to hear carnage behind me. Dan had blown off take on the steepest part. I think Andrew also had a wee washout. Everyone’s concentration had gone. It was time to call it a day on the riding.

We rode back to town and into Vertigo Bikes for Chris to give us the full tech run down on the product and how it works. The new system is designed to work on bikes that use a SRAM UDH hanger interface. A couple of years ago, SRAM brought out the UDH (universe derailleur hanger). The purpose of that was to create a better derailleur hanger that bike brands could adopt. It was a standard that made sense and, slowly, more and more bike brands have been getting on board with the standard. It was a solid move forward for the bike industry. This new AXS system builds on top of that: the hanger is replaced by a direct mount clevis system to the frame. In doing this, you massively increase the stiffness and strength of the derailleur. It’s not just held by a single bolt to the hanger, instead, it mounts both sides of the frame.

When you induce the hub, frame and axle, it creates an interface that is incredibly stiff and really strong, so much so that you can put your bike on the ground, stand on the derailleur on one foot and get back on your bike, ride away and the shifting will still be perfect. That’s not possible on a normal hanger set-up – something will bend. I had my doubts about it until Chris showed us. It was super impressive.

The derailleur keeps the override clutch system that allows the mech to move out of the way when it’s stuck by an object. It’s fantastic, and something that seems to get used regularly on my current GX AXS. It has saved my hanger from getting bent so many times and I’ve never needing to straighten it like I would have with a normal cable set up. The clevis mount combined with the override clutch ensures you have a system that should, in theory, be very hard to put out of tune. It’s just a more reliable system; more pierce gear shifting, and a better experience on the trail.

SRAM has introduced other technology to these groupsets: flat-top chains that come from their road bike groupset. These increase efficiency and durability while looking flipping awesome. X Sync can now be seen on the cassette, improving the shifting and chain reaction. It really lets you shift under load without the worry of skipping gears. I’d imagine it also helps the durability of the cassette. The recent SRAM x Dome cassettes have an incredible lifespan if you replace the chain regularly. I think these new ones will blow them out of the water as long as you keep up-to-date on replacing the chain when it’s worn.

The smart engineers at SRAM Germany really went to town on this. They have gone over everything with a fine-tooth comb. Chris said that they looked at all the warranty data collected over the past 10 years, and tried to eliminate as many of the issues as they could.

The way they did was by redesigning the whole system and imagining a new way of doing things. The clevis mount gave the ability to produce a far superior product and gave the engineers more ability to optimise every last bit. There are so many little things they have done that just make it a joy to use, such as the slight bend in the derailleur cage. It looks like it has been bent on the trail but, in actual fact, it’s meant to be like that. It helps keep the pulley chain interface better aligned when in the extreme ends of the cassette. There are two different modes to set the cage to, depending on the chainstay length. The new magic jockey wheel, that features on the XX1 and XX1sl models, ensures it will still spin even if an object gets stuck in there.

As well as all of this, set up has become easier than ever before. I’m not going to go into the whole way you go about it – the SRAM technical manuals have that all dialed and are a great source of information. “We gave this product out to some of our racers this year, on the EWS, and the mechanics keep overthinking the setting up of the system,” explains Chris. “It can’t be this easy, they keep telling me.” Easier set-up leads to fewer problems and fewer tuning errors from the get-go.

Now, I imagine that you’re thinking, ‘that’s all well and good, but what happens if I crash and absolutely smash it into a rock and manage to bend it?’. Well, shit does happen and, in that case, on a normal hanger mech situation, both of them would probably be a full write-off and due for the bin. In the case of this new system, however, I’d be very surprised if you could bend the clevis. It is really that strong and stiff. The good news is that the rest of the derailleurs are rebuildable. If you do damage a part, it will most likely be replaceable. You can remove the cage without using any tools. A simple little tap while unscrewing the cage will loosen it up. The tension spring and clutch are now built into the cage.

Servicing and cleaning these parts is super easy and something that can be done in no time at all. The protection covers on the B-knuckle and outer link ensures they are fully replaceable, or upgradeable to the XX skid plate. Is your mech looking a bit scratched up and tired after a year of use and abuse? Simply slap some new ones on and it will look brand new. I’m really behind this, I love it when brands make their products rebuildable and serviceable – products they want to see being used for years and years, products you can fix rather than just replace. It’s the way our industry should be heading instead of adding to a throwaway society just because one tiny part breaks or wears out that’s not replaceable.

The next day we were up and out, bright and early again. Straight back up Skyline access road then straight up the Ben Lomond walking track. Now, this is a walking track, but there must have been something in the crew coffee that morning because they pedaled up the whole thing. I’ll say it again: absolute savages this lot. It’s pretty relentless the whole way, just a hard going grind, but it rewards you with breathtaking views once you reach the Ben Lomond saddle. There was now 1000m of vertical descent ahead of us, back down to Queenstown. What a treat to be had. We hopped onto Upper Missing Link and stopped at the rock feature near the top. There, I had this idea for a photo I wanted to shoot. Everyone had a run-through, wall riding on the rock, and I got what I wanted. Chris pushed back up to hit it again. He came into the rock at a weird angle, going straight into it; next thing he extended his bike up over vertical and foot planted on the rock. Everyone was freaking out. It was so unreal! There had been a lot of BMX chat on the way up and I guess Chris was feeling inspired. I didn’t think a foot plant on that rock was possible. Next, Dan and Andrew started giving it a go. Popping up high before planting the foot, with the bike basically upside down. It was mind-bending. If they got the foot placement wrong, it would have been a good fall down the other side. Dan and Andrew just shut the rock down. Amazing stuff.

We continued down Upper Missing Link, weaving and dancing our way along the ridgeline, the narrow singletrack snaking through rocks and tussocks. From there, we headed down what you could argue is one of the best trails in New Zealand. I’m not going to tell you where it is or what it’s called – if you know, you know. It’s an absolute gem of a trail. A true mix of everything. Three trails in one – flowing, flat-out beech forest and dark turny pines to Val de Sol-like rock gardens. It’s got it all. As you hammer along the beech forest section, you’re treated to huge compression and little gaps. Flat out straights into tight turns. Cornflakes cover the track and hide the roots below. The new brakes really started to show their improvement over the old ones. The power seemed to have increased, the lighter lever feel was a welcome addition, easing the arm pump on this long run. The classic SRAM modulation was still there, offering heaps of control.

Once you finish the beech part of this trail, you hit the dark pine at what feels like warp speed. Your eyes don’t have long to adjust to the light conditions; turns come up fast, a couple of lefts and rights before coming into a rock roll feature. From there, you head through a small slither of Sycamores, lighting the place up in green haze. The dirt in this section is treacherous in the wet, almost like riding on ice. Finally, you end up with what I imagine a fresh, slightly tamer version of Val de Sol would feel like: deep loam and lots of rocks. I was barreling through this section and smoked the derailleur into something. The sound was horrendous. In my head, I was thinking, ‘ahh, well that’s fucked then’. I didn’t stop though, and continued on to the bottom of the trail. To my absolute amazement, it was fine. Although it sure looked like it had been hit – there were scratches, a big chunk of material missing and rock debris – the shifting was still absolutely perfect. If this was any other system, this would not have been the case. Really impressive.

You know where this ends. It’s the end of the ride, we’re hungry and thirsty. Only one place to go then – back to Atlas. We cheers-ed to a fantastic weekend of riding over some cold crisp pints. What a weekend. What amazing trails. What a tremendous crew. And – what a fantastic transmission! The new benchmark has been set.

SRAM has really knocked it out of the park on this. It’s hard to think how you can improve on what they have delivered here. It’s truly fantastic. It’s robust, designed from the ground up for mountain biking, and finally moving on from the hanger system that came from road bikes so many years ago. I’m a massive fan of the ability to be able to rebuild and replace parts on the derailleur. The shifting is light years ahead of the others. Will this groupset make you faster? You could argue that it will, but I don’t think that’s the right question to ask. Will this groupset enhance the experience of your ride? 100% it will – it’s an absolute joy to use; it makes you want to shift more and it’s easy to set up. It’s built to last; is robust and strong – you don’t really have to worry about it. Going off the reliability of the previous AXS stuff – which was in my opinion the best out there – this should be able to last an apocalypse. I’m not normally the sort of person to fork out for an expensive drive chain, instead, I normally run the cheapest I can get away with. Gen 1 of AXS changed my mind about that a bit, but this new stuff has 100% flipped my view. It’s something that’s worth saving up for and putting on your next bike. It’s something worth investing in. You won’t regret it.

Hat’s off to you SRAM. Well done.

Words: Cam Cole
Photography: Sven Martin

Winding the clock back, I started in the role of GT team and performance manager back in November 2021. This opportunity emerged while I was attending the 2021 UCI Mountain Bike World Champs in Val Di sole as the stand-in New Zealand team manager while our borders were still virtually closed, in the middle of the Covid pandemic.

The 2022 northern hemisphere summer has been and gone. In fact, it’s now well and truly in the rear view mirror. For me, in a diverse role supporting GT Factory Racing (GTFR), this came with thanks after many long days spent track side, pointing at riding lines scattered with rocks, roots, dust and mud; being holed up in event villages running errands, cooking meals, making coffee, setting up team pit infrastructure only to tear it down again; travel days navigating narrow Scottish roads in long, heavy team vehicles, attempting to peel tyres off rental cars, boarding ferries and flights spanning oceans, countries and continents; and of course, in classic GT Factory Racing style, our fair share of good times. After an opportune catch up with some old mates from my days as a professional rider (that’s a story I will save for later) some ideas were thrown about and a couple of months later I was signed on to the team. Soon enough, I was buried in online meetings, planning the 2022 racing season, and numerous spreadsheets as the management staff ground through all of the leg work that would allow the team to operate during the 2022 racing season.

Team and Performance Manager — an ever-changing role

The role I’ve taken on with GTFR is a diverse one. It’s a role that evolves in its nature depending on the time of year. In the off season months, it looks and feels like any administrative role. Duties include event planning: from building out the team calendar for the season, booking flights and accommodation, all the way through to working closely with the chef team that supports us at the World Cups. On the performance side, I am frequently in contact with the riders so that the team is updated and aware of their off season progress and so we can keep them updated on any news coming from GT HQ or team partners. On this aspect of the role, my experience as a former professional rider is valuable in ensuring the riders are supported and that the team can assist them in their professional and athletic development. Ultimately though, the athletes on the team are highly motivated and require only guidance as we work together to refine their approach to top level international racing. On the marketing and business side there are general communications aspects of the role, to ensure info is flowing in all directions between the team, several of the GT business functions and GTFR team partners. In addition, there is budgeting and budget tracking. During the off season months, I work closely with Steve Spencer on the sports marketing side at GT HQ and Mark Maurissen, who works on the product and tech side for the team, taking care of all product ordering and allocations for the team as well as supporting the logistics planning. During the season, Mark is both a mechanic and logistics operations support. Additional staff include Rich Simpson, based in the UK, Matteo Nati, who divides his time between Italy and New Zealand, and our two French media mates, Louis and Jules. During the racing season, my job morphs into more of an operations role as the season plan rolls out week by week, race by race. The hours stack up quickly with early mornings in the pits helping the mechanics set up for the day, and generally end late with planning for the next day and site clean-up. Energy is what you need for this part of the job, especially since we are a relatively small factory team and one of only a few that compete in both the Downhill World Cup and Enduro World Series (EWS). For most of the Downhill World Cups in 2022 we were four to five staff looking after four riders, compared to the likes of Commencal Muc-off who have upwards of 10 staff for four to five riders. My days at the events are stacked with general race and team admin, such as assisting with the maintenance of team equipment and supplementary grocery shopping. On the performance side, it becomes more intensive at the events, ensuring riders have what they need to do their job well. The on-track support for the riders is a big part of it when I’m at the races. For DH that means standing track side sighting lines, coaching or suggesting racing tactics and strategies. Sometimes communicating with mechanics about bike set up is required. During the peak of the season sometimes all we can do is react. Dealing with cancelled flights (thanks Easy Jet), adjusting race plans as the inevitable injuries pop up and just generally rolling with the punches that are thrown at you daily when you are managing a dozen people traveling and racing all over the world is par for the course.

The Racing Season

Soon enough, the 2022 racing season was underway, and we were on the ground putting plans into action. We kicked things off in early March ’22 with a preseason block of training and racing in bitterly cold central southern France, before heading further south into Portugal in search of a little bit of sunshine to boost the mood prior to the unusually early start to the Downhill World Cup season, in Lourdes. At this point, we were still missing Jess Blewitt from the team, due to her delayed return to international racing after taking the entire New Zealand summer off to ensure full recovery from the injuries she sustained at the 2021 World Cup finals in Snowshoe. Nevertheless, we still had a strong group of riders in Ethan Craik, Ryan Pinkerton and, of course, none other than Wyn Masters. Although highlights of this first block of racing included all riders making the podium at a Portugal Cup downhill race, and sucking on juicy Portuguese oranges, the Lourdes World Cup was a reality check. This race showed us the brutal nature of World Cup Downhill racing both in terms of the course and quality of the athletes. For round two, in Fort William, we would have all of our riders on an updated version of GT’s downhill bike. This, along with a revised focus after Round 1 and having Jess back on board, was a huge boost for the team and paved the way for several substantial steps in a positive direction. Despite Jess picking up a small fracture in her collar bone, her pace was on target for a solid result and Ethan was riding on pace for a top 10 – 15 result until he unluckily misjudged a heavily degrading corner and fell victim to the wet and windy Scottish conditions on finals day. The Enduro World Series season kicked off on the first weekend of June, two weekends after the Fort William Downhill World Cup, so after a short breather I joined the Enduro team in Innerleithen, Scotland. Although we didn’t come away with the comfort of knowing our outright race pace matched that of our competitors, we did maintain a positive and ‘can do’ approach to picking up the pace up throughout the season. Sometimes, things just don’t go your way in racing, but the only way forward is to reflect on a situation and truthfully answer any questions that the facts present you with, in any situation you find yourself in. Having been a professional international racer myself, from 2006 – 2014, I understand the pressures and demands the riders and teams face. I have had many successes at the top level of the sport. Many of those have come after times of truthful self-reflection and facing the ‘no blame’ facts presented to me. These were often that I was not prepared to race at the highest level due to physical, mental or emotional shortcomings, or that I was just not executing my races in a free and relaxed state. This was true for the Enduro team. There was no flow happening both in and out of the events. Things were just not happening as easily as they should have been for the quality of the team we were on paper. The struggle continued into rounds 2 and 3 of the World Series, in Slovenia and Italy. Noga Korem looked like she was riding well on track, but was just not feeling completely confident at full race pace. Katy Winton was in a similar position, but was feeling like there was something deeper at play holding her back. After fighting through an entire season as a privateer in 2021, her efforts to get to this point in mid-2022 – and back on a factory team – were becoming too much to sustain the detail-oriented approach that is required to maintain the level of performance Katy and the team expected. So Katy bravely made the decision to suspend her racing season so that she could take some time to reflect and dig into what factors were holding her back. With the first major travel and racing blocks of 2022 under our belt at GT Factory Racing, we had forward momentum on our side regardless of the positive or negative nature of the situation. I personally find it better to at least know where you stand and from that point feel equipped with the facts so you can address the situation as it presents. After the Val di Fassa EWS round there was a week break before we faced nine races in nine weeks through July and August, across both the EWS and World Cup Downhill series. This included the Lenzerheide, Andorra, Snowshoe, Mont Sainte Anne and Val di Sole World Cups, and the North America triple of EWS races, as well as World Championships in Les Gets, France. Highlights from this intense string of racing included Jess’s first Elite Women’s World Cup DH podium in Andorra, which she promptly followed up two races later with another fourth place. Jess rounded out the season strongly by achieving another podium place finish at the World Cup finals in Val di Sole, on the most technically and physically demanding course of the year. Ethan, in his first year as an elite male, also achieved a career first when he placed seventh in his first elite Top 10 at the Mont Saint Anne World Cup, and was showing serious speed at the World Champs until a crash on the morning of race day slowed him down substantially. Finally, Ryan Pinkerton rode to a solid second place at the World Cup finals, topping off his first year in the junior ranks. But, if you think it was all champagne showers for the team, I should mention a challenging travel day from Washington Dulles airport after the Snowshoe World Cup, to Mont Sainte Anne for the following race. The day started early with two flights from Dulles to Quebec, via Toronto. When we arrived in Quebec we found the rental car company had cancelled our reservation and permanently shut its doors, but had decided they didn’t need to let us know about it. Since many of the World Cup Downhill and Cross Country teams were flying into Quebec City airport at that time, there was no chance of any rental stock being available that would allow us to move seven people around Quebec and Vermont for the following two weeks. In the end, we decided to fight that fight another day. After taking taxis to Mont Saint Anne, we sat at one of a few local restaurants and ordered dinner – which took forever to reach the table. After a late finish to the meal, we decided it was time to check into the two apartments I had booked for the week. The check in process ended around midnight with Mark breaking down a door to one of the apartments as the digital panel controlling the lock had failed. With that, you start to understand the mental approach and skillset that is required when being part of a team of 12 people who for five months of the year are constantly on the move and not always in the same place, let alone the same time zones. By mid-September, there were just the final two EWS races remaining in the 2022 international season for the team. For these last events we were still missing Katy, but through her time spent away from the races, reflecting, she was beginning to see the early steps required to return to racing at the top level. With the support of GTFR and her immediate support team, she was regaining the fire and energy it takes to ride a bike fast and to one’s potential. In terms of outright results, Noga finished the season very strongly by placing fourth at both the Crans Montana and Loudenvielle races, and was once again having fun at the races and on her bike. This was a relief for her and the team. Ultimately, I do this because I enjoy the process of learning and striving for performance but what really makes it so good is seeing the riders expand their personal horizons and have fun racing their bikes.

Reflections

Since the end of the season, after the final EWS race in Loudenvielle, we have had the chance to back off the gas, unwind and spend some time recovering physically and mentally. However, for those at the sharp end of this business, this time of the year is utilised as a chance to reflect on the past season while it is still fresh in the mind. While it is a good time of year to catch up on any night time reading that is missed during the season, it is also a chance to take notes and brainstorm new ways of doing things, that could be implemented in order to improve performance. Since the end of the 2022 season, we have already overcome some of the challenges that presented themselves over the year. But, we have many more ahead of us. For me, this is the lure of being part of a team competing in the highest level of competition, in any context. No matter what the result, there is always more to be improved on. Competing in an environment such as this forces teams through a process and journey of improvement. You don’t have a choice if you want to remain competitive in this game. Looking ahead to 2023, it’s going to be another busy year. Although there are still many months until the Downhill season kicks off, the first EWS races take place at the end of March, in Tasmania. So, for me, it’s swiftly back to the usual off-season duties.