Issue 111

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 & 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.