Singletrack

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CONTENTS
09 / Editorial
Chipps asks you to trust us, even though
none of us are doctors.
10 / (Hand) Made In China
Chipps follows a Saracen frame from
design through to testing and discovers
that the factories in China and Taiwan
aren’t what you might think.
24 / Column: Jason Miles
Jason thinks there’s a place for every kind
of bike, however niche.
26 / Trail Hunter: Snowdon
Tom Fenton reminds himself why
Snowdon should be on everyone’s
must-ride list.
40 / Singletrack Recommended
We bring you a clutch of products so good,
we’d buy them ourselves.
46 / Singletrack Room 101
Judge Charlie decides which of your
submissions will be successfully consigned
to cycling’s Room 101.
48 / Bike Test: Killer Hardtails
Hardtails take many forms. We test out a
Kona, Nukeproof and Trillion from across
the spectrum.
64 / Kit Bag: Enduro
Proving that it’s not all enduro bum bags
out there, we look inside Tracy Moseley’s
more than comprehensive race pack.
66 / Classic Ride: Northern Ireland
Ian Bailey takes us on a tour of the
countryside that he loved so much that he
moved there.
79 / Oddball: The Black Fuel
We don’t just love bikes, we love coffee too.
Our Rob Crayons shares some favourites.
80 / Interview: Keith Bontrager
What’s the difference between fashion and
progress? Keith has some words of wisdom.
90 / Adventure: Shropshire
Why do so many top riders come from this
small corner of England? Barney goes on a
quest to find out.
98 / Group Test: Hi-Tech Tyres
James Vincent tests out a bundle of rubber
and narrows it down to those that you
need, whatever the conditions.
113 / We Just Work Here
Where we are, who does what (but not
why), and what our speciality dishes are.
Cover Photographer:
James Vincent
Location: Stuttgart, Germany
Rider: Wil Barrett
Towards the end of our
European road trip, team
Singletrack descended on
Stuttgart. Late in the afternoon
we managed to sneak out for a
ride and while darting between
the trees, the hazy summer
evening light hit an all time high,
so we just had to stop and shoot
some photos.
- - - - -
Contents Photographer:
Rob Crayons
Location: Hebden Bridge,
Calderdale
The longest day of the year
may have passed, but our local
packhorse trails are still in more
than fine nick, with all routes
leading us to the pub. Of course.
Premier Edition Content
This expanded section is available for Premier subscribers and Premier Dealer customers.
116 / Adventure: Azores
Karen Eller explores this tropical island
paradise in the mid-Atlantic.
128 / Column: Grand Finale
Through a blur of painkillers and
adrenaline, Ian Bailey reflects on a riding
holiday gone wrong.
132 / Adventure: My First Mountain
Sanny takes a friend to revisit the first big
mountain they ever rode. Is it any easier
on a modern fat bike than on an early Pine
Mountain?
146 / Last Word
Chipps discusses the abusive relationship
between race organisers, racers and races
themselves.
We want you to be clear where we are receiving a financial benefit that you might think could influence us, so where
you see the above icon, you can find out about any sponsorship or gifts that have helped make the article happen.
We will never accept sponsorship that could be perceived to influence a review, nor do we charge for reviews.
Head to page 113 to find out how to get more out of your copy of Singletrack Magazine.
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EDITORIAL
COMING
CLEANER
WORDS CHIPPS
There’s a change in the air. It’s not about news and readers any
more. Or authors and editors. The already grey lines between
us and them, and you and us (or us and you, and them…) are
blurring further as magazines launch YouTube channels and
bike brands create their own stories to run in self-published,
glossy illustrated brochures.
Meanwhile, riders are often sponsored more because of
their Instagram followers than their race results. Or perhaps
they don’t race at all, simply riding bearded and shirtless across
a glorious mountain scene and being given pink hearts for the
effort.
It’s all part of constant change across the whole world
of media. Anything goes and everyone is trying to find the
limits of each medium. Web-only magazines are considering
running some issues in print while blogs, or ‘vlogs’ on
YouTube can earn you a living if you can rise through the
swamp of copycat celebrity wannabes with the same idea. It’s
the new West, and it’s wild.
In this kaleidoscope of media, it can be hard to see the
wood for the trees, or the trees for the sustainably grown
post-consumer waste recycled paper. And, often, it can be
hard to work out the motivation behind people’s actions. Are
they ’gramming their breakfast because it’s tasty? Or because
they get a discount if they do? Is a magazine writing about a
trail centre because it’s interesting, or because it’s being paid?
Or because it’s being paid AND it’s interesting? Is it still
interesting if it’s interesting AND funded?
These and many other questions crop up regularly in
my world, if they don’t in yours. On one hand, nothing has
actually changed. The media has always been supported by
advertising and copy sales. Those advertisers are still there,
and still wanting access to those readers. And those readers
are usually happy to pay the price for their entertainment –
whether it is by sitting through an advert or by paying more
(or at all) to not see an ad.
Then there are all the below-the-line costs that are equally
omnipresent. Like the transport needed to get to wherever
or whatever you’re writing about. Sometimes it’s paid by a
bike company eager for you to shoot its bike in a beautiful
landscape, while you get the bonus of visiting a beautiful
place that will make for great photos. Sometimes the venue
itself will have invited you. The readers get to hear about this
amazing place and, just perhaps, they might consider going
the next time they’re passing…
We’ve decided that it’s getting harder to tell who’s doing
what for whom. And even if the motivations are still the same,
and a free breakfast doesn’t go towards a great write-up, there’s
an unnecessary mist of doubt over things when there might
not previously have been.
So we’re taking the pioneering step of always stating
(and thanking) where any help has come from when writing
our features. Nothing has particularly changed; we’re just
lifting the curtain more. Sometimes we’ve taken a flight, or
been provided with a hotel room – and often that’s the only
way we can afford to travel to places. Sometimes a guide has
shown us around. And often we’ve been bought meals. Just
how free those meals are will probably depend on your point
of view, but in the name of transparency, whenever we’ve had
some kind of help with a feature (with transport or hotels or
guiding or whatever), then we’ll tell you. And if a feature was
provided to the magazine for free, or in exchange for adverts
or coverage, we’ll tell you that too.
Hopefully we can encourage magazines from other
publishers to do the same in future. They probably won’t, but
Singletrack has never minded being a little bit different to the
rest.
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BEHIND THE SCENES
HAND
MADE IN CHINA
Chipps follows the path of an Asian-made bike
from concept sketch to mountainside testing.
WORDS & PHOTOGRAPHY CHIPPS
I’ve always wanted to follow the development of a product
from first-sketch to final product, but it’s easier said than
done. Many companies are rightly wary about opening
themselves up to outsiders, especially journalists. There are all
sorts of intellectual property worries in letting someone see
behind the product designer’s wizard’s curtain, not to mention
potential embarrassment if it all goes wrong.
I’d mooted this idea to a few companies over the years
and usually received replies along the line of ‘Great idea! It’s
never going to happen…’ Finally, though, Simon Wild and
the team at Saracen Bikes agreed to let me come along on a
factory visit to see how things get made. Simon went further
than that in fact. He’s proud of his suppliers and of the work
that Saracen’s factories do, so I had carte blanche to shoot any
photos I wanted, ask any questions, and to really try to get an
idea about how a complex modern mountain bike is brought
to the shop floor for you or me to buy.
Snookered.
You know those trick shots in snooker where the player hits
one ball and the chain reaction causes every other ball to land
in the pockets, all at the same time?
That seems a good analogy to start with for bike design.
You’re trying to set things in motion, over a period of months,
sometimes years: the product design, the component spec,
the ISO testing, the production, the component assembly
and painting, the shock tuning, the samples, the brochure
photography, the graphics, the finished bikes arriving by
container – everything, so that it all culminates in that one
model being available for sale on a particular date. Preferably
a bike that the customers will have heard about through
advertising, and seen used through team sponsorship, with a
dealer and warranty backup, in this year’s hot colours, with
the best new suspension design and fitted with the latest
must-have components. All of that needs to happen for every
model in the range, every year. And when that’s done, there
needs to be something in the pipeline for next year. It’s quite
a treadmill.
My trip would take in visits to both Taiwan and mainland
China, to see several factories where Saracen’s alloy suspension
bikes, carbon hardtails, and carbon full suspension bikes are
made, painted and assembled. Then I’d have a chance to test
out one of the new models before its launch date in autumn
2017. But first, let’s go back to April…
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Into China.
A bleary, jet-lagged state is rarely conducive to smooth
Customs formalities – especially in China, where you need
a visa for entry and a sponsoring company to vouch for you.
Luckily my papers were in order and, after a silent look up
and down, the young customs officer let me through and into
mainland China.
China these days is falling over itself to modernise and
westernise, sometimes at the expense of quality over quantity.
Our first stop was Huizhou, a city you won’t have heard
of, but one which has rocketed from a couple of million
residents to over five million in half a dozen years, such is the
concentration of industry and the self-perpetuating nature of
a growing city that needs builders, who need homes, that need
builders…
While the city didn’t feel too foreign, there was a certain
Wild West air to everything, as the explosion of people and
building and industry still hadn’t erased all the old China
underneath. Every now and then a glimmer of that old China
would show through from underneath the smart concrete
covering.
My companions for the trip would be Simon Wild, the
brand’s coordinator and both its biggest critic and biggest
fan, and Ryan Carroll, responsible for most of the suspension
and 3D design for the brand. Both strong characters, they
work well together in a married-couple kind of way. Bickering
endlessly some days and wordlessly communicating great ideas
the next. Ryan lives in Taiwan, which gives him great access to
the factories for both feedback and quality checking.
A lot is made of ‘QC’ for manufacturing in China. It
seems that there are literally Chinese whispers, and instructions
passed down the line can result in well-meant mistakes as
designs are lost in translation. This trip was just one of several
that Simon and Ryan make during the year to make sure that
things are on track.
First timers.
Stepping into Hua Chin, my first Chinese bike factory, I was
aware of the public perception of what I might see: the terrible
working conditions, the miserable young workers sticking
things together with barely enough competence to get the job
done for the lowest price possible.
Obviously, this wasn’t the case. And how! The long factory
building, lit by sweeping windows, was clean and orderly and a
lot less grimy than many similar factories I’ve seen in the UK.
Linda, one of the owners showed Simon, Ryan and me round
in the rough order that bike building would go. We started
with crates of shiny alloy tubes, all cut and mitred ready for
making into Saracen’s new alloy Kili Flyer.
‘This one seems to be made of plastic’.
‘Really? I think this one’s metal’.
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Not all factories are dark, dank, dingy, dungeon-like dens.
Making 2D into 3D…
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Wailing welding solos on the wah-wah pedals.
‘When I nod my head, hit it with the hammer.’
Factories have many different brands that they work for and
Hua Chin works for some US bike brands as well as Saracen.
Also taking up a huge part of production when we were there
was an order for China’s version of the MoBike – a dockless
bike sharing system for China, with simple bikes and a solarpowered,
app-based booking scheme. So in between highend
suspension bikes, the factory was also making tens of
thousands of sturdy alloy town bikes. This was evident when
the principal of the team of welders was interrupted from
making rear triangles to show us how the new main pivot
and the head tube would be welded in production. The fact
that he could turn from making chainstays on one bike to
laying down a perfect bead on a head tube on the next was
impressive.
The speed and finesse of the welders was remarkable.
They work in a small team, with the tasks split between them.
The first welder might do the left hand of the head tube and
BB shell, the next will do the right side and half the seat tube
junction and so on. This is designed to keep the heat from
distorting the frame and to allow each welder to comfortably
work on similar jobs to keep quality consistent and speed
high.
After a visual inspection of every frame, the welded
frames then move to alignment, where things like symmetry,
braze-on positions and component fit are checked. A lot of
the early pre-production runs we saw are to make sure that
tools can be made to speed the production process up. A
hydraulically activated jig that keeps all the tubes precisely in
place may take a week for the production manager to build,
but if it saves 20 minutes of preparation for every single
frame of hundreds, it works out in the end. Leonard, the QC
manager, showed Simon how the rear swingarm would be
aligned in three planes – not just to make sure that the shock
was compressed correctly, but that the brake bosses were on
plane and the rear wheel kept aligned through the stroke.
Just as we got to the mezzanine floor to shoot the factory
from a height, the workers disappeared. It seems that far from
being worked hard day and night, the staff breaks are generous
and pretty plentiful. There’s a mid-morning, and a midafternoon
break and an entire hour and a half at lunchtime.
We only just managed to gather the welders for a brief photo
as the shift finished and before they took off for their lunch
break.
Our lunch, meanwhile, was some noodles in the meeting
room while Simon and Ryan discussed fine details for the
coming frame production. Not everything can be designed on
the computer and sometimes real-world samples are needed
(whether welded up or 3D printed) in order to see how well
cables and components play together. Another thing that is
hard to predict is how well a finish will take and whether it’ll
match the colour-matching components.
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Building Boris.
Our afternoon visit was to Long Trend Composites, the
company that makes Saracen’s carbon hardtails. But not
before we’d seen hundreds of China’s Boris-bikes lined up
ready for collection. The most impressive part was how the
finished bikes left the factory – through a hole in the top floor
wall and on a hooked conveyor belt down the outside of the
building. How else are you going to get hundreds of bikes to
leave the top floor?
Long Trend resembled a university science block, with
long, polished corridors, flanked by glass windows into
interesting-looking rooms. In these, workers were sanding
paint finishes, or unrolling carbon prepreg from $1,000 rolls
of the stuff ready to be CNC cut into precise forms. Other
windows looked into layup rooms where the many layers
that go into bottom bracket shells and top tubes were laid up
before being prepped with internal inflatable bladders that put
pressure on the carbon and squeeze out the excess plastic.
In another room were the ovens where the frames were
cured. The set-up was very impressive, but, as I would see
the next day, things could be a lot, lot bigger. We got to see
Saracen’s new Zenith carbon hardtail frame, among others, a
prototype painted and finished, being prepped for final clear
coat. We’d see this frame again at the end of our week, when
we got to the final assembly plant in Taiwan.
Composite Gear.
Composite Gear is one of China’s premier carbon factories
and Simon recalls the first time that he went to see the factory.
Or rather the foyer. CG can afford to pick and choose its
clients and Simon found that Saracen had to prove that it
wasn’t going to waste its time before they were let through
the door. Once the brand had shown that its designs and
quantities were ambitious enough, it then had access to the
not inconsiderable talents that Composite Gear could provide.
CG makes Saracen’s full suspension bikes, like the carbon
downhill Myst, the Kili Flyer and the new carbon Ariel.
It’s worth remembering that Taiwan and China have
been making carbon bike frames for a generation and that
companies in those countries have more experience than any
other country. Even the most traditional of Italian road brands
looks to China for its carbon construction. It’s not been a case
of getting a lower price for years; it’s about getting the most
skilled designers and workers possible to do the job.
While the American or British bike designers can present
a 3D model of the tube shapes and suspension action, it’s
still going to be down to the factory to work out the carbon
construction: the complicated layup of layers of carbon
material and the manner in which those pressured layers of
carbon transfer the huge forces that travel through a modern
suspension job.
All hands on deck, preparing the sticky carbon sheets ready to be cut for each frame.
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Laying up the slices of carbon, ready for the moulds.
‘That’s definitely not the one you made, Simon.’
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We looked at samples of 2018 bikes – the rear triangle
of the Myst now has a three-position dropout and this had
been constructed in a 3D model, attached to a regular carbon
swingarm. This is often machined or printed from solid plastic
to allow regular components to be fitted into place to check
fit. There were also colour samples to check on frame tubes.
While Pantone colours and paint chips can go a long way to
standardising colours, nothing beats seeing a painted frame in
real life rather than rendered on a computer screen.
Composite Gear’s factory was a much bigger outfit than
I’d seen so far. It was both more high-tech and low-tech than
I’d imagined. CNC plotters precisely cut carbon sheets, which
were then laid up precisely according to a very strict menu of
what went where, yet in another room, freshly made, high-end
time trial frames sat in a big bucket as they came out of the
moulds, before going to be finished and beautifully painted
and decaled and sold for thousands. On one machine, prebonding
surfaces were precisely machined and cleaned before
glueing. On the next machine, a guy seemed to just eyeball
the drilling of a shock-mount hole. And while that might be
entirely in tolerance, these things are often why designers like
to see the whole process for themselves before just assuming
that the factory is doing what it was meant to.
Generation Game.
An example layup demonstration for a Kili Flyer was set
up for us in the clean layup room. A worker moved with
effortless grace as she built up layers of carbon prepreg sheet
around a plastic-coated wooden form. Layer after layer went
on according to the predetermined menu as she added large
sheets and smaller reinforcing ones, all cut and oriented to
maximise the stiffness of the carbon fibres. When it was done,
she whipped out the wooden form to leave a hollow, but still
floppy carbon tube ready to be joined onto other frame parts
before it went into the oven. We then saw the pieces go into
another, female wooden form for the head tube to be wrapped
on. Then the front end was fitted with bladders and ready for
cooking in a heated steel mould.
While a company like Hope can painstakingly cut and
beautifully lay material directly into the final mould, they’re
only making a frame or so a day. At CG the moulds can’t be
left idle for a moment and they’re not even cool before the
next frame is fitted in and sent to be baked for 90 minutes.
Simon was invited to try his hand at laying up a top tube.
Even though to our eyes he did a good job of peeling off the
backing and smoothing down his tacky carbon sheet on top
of the others, our carbon mistress wasn’t happy and pulled it
off again, smoothing it back down again with an expert touch
that I can only equate to how a master sushi chef crafts a maki
roll.
Rob Crayons does like.
Simon making sure the colours are true.
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Final holes are drilled, post moulding.
Hand masked and painted frames are a thing of beauty.
Baking hot.
Down at the ovens, we got to see ‘our’ frame put into its stillhot
mould, hooked up to the air lines for the bladders and,
with the top lifted into place by two burly guys, sent off to sit
sandwiched between two massive heated plates for an hour
and a half.
Once the frame comes out of the mould, it then needs
the flash trimming off, and the cable ports and pivots drilling
and machining. Kili Flyers are made in two pieces, so a
further process is needed to socket the two halves together
before more carbon wrapping and another small bake to
permanently join the two halves. Now I’ve seen this join, I
still can’t find it on a painted frame – such is the smoothness
of the finished join and paint job.
We got to see some finished frames, ready on racks. They
just happened to be 2017 race season Mysts for the Madison/
Saracen downhill team. The next time we’d see them would be
at a World Cup race, travelling at speed.
Taiwan travels.
Our journey wasn’t complete; we needed to follow the Kili
and Ariel frames to Taiwan, where they get painted and
assembled into complete bikes and shipped to the UK.
Arriving in Taiwan by plane, we took a bullet train
to Taichung, a city with huge bike connections. A short
drive out of the bright, bustling city and we were into the
Taiwanese countryside. With a lot of countryside set aside
for rice paddies, growing right up to the steep-sided, wooded
mountains, it was a lot more rural than I was expecting.
Every now and again there’d be a small village and a few
low factories. My guides filled me in – there was the place
to get great steel hardtails made, over there was the factory
that makes handlebars for this company and that company.
It seemed refreshingly more like the collection of small
workshops you might see in northern Italy than the urban
Asian Bladerunner bustle I was expecting.
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Willing is a factory that assembles bikes for a large
number of companies, and we were there to meet with Dean
and his staff to check final paint and decals for next year’s
Saracen ranges. In the office were a bunch of mostly finished
frames, some of which we’d seen during the week, like the
Gulf Racing orange and blue hardtail we’d seen at Long Trend
and the fully built new model carbon Ariel… Simon was
busy checking paint tubes against laptop drawings while Ryan
checked that shock bolts fitted frames that were only designed
when that new Fox shock was just some measurements and
a photo of how it would look. Even at this late stage, it’s still
possible to find components that clash or aren’t the size they
were meant (or that you’d understood) to be.
Eyeing up.
A tour of the Willing factory showed the assembly lines where
finished frames would be built into bikes and then packed
into boxes. Ever built a bike from a box and wondered how
on earth they pack it into such a small space? Companies
like Willing have a precise method that dictates where each
component goes, where the zip ties and the foam protection
goes – even a single exact bit of tape on a rim if it’s likely
that something will scratch it. Everything must be repeatable
– and workers have iPads on which they can access the spec
for every bike, finished colour, and photos of how they all fit
together. Once the assembly line starts, it’s all about speed
and efficiency, but like all the factories I’d seen, much effort
and time goes into getting that actual process correct so that it
works every single time.
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Our final stop was to see the sample frames being masked
off for the two-tone paint. I was astounded to see three of
Willing’s workers precisely taping off areas for the two-tone
paint job with craft knives and tweezers to put the masking
film exactly where it was needed. All by eye, referring to a
colour printout of the frame. And this wasn’t the prototype
production line. This was every single painted frame. Such
hands-on work was surprising. Even after the frames came
back from painting, the decals – stacked ready for each frame
and colour – were applied by hand, by eye, with stickered
stripes perfectly matching painted accents, indistinguishable
from each other. A final ‘Saracen’ logo, again by eye, and the
frame was ready for final clear coat and inspection.
What now?
That was the first sample run of a model-year process that
takes around 18 months in total, from initial design to shop
floor. Assuming that models from that sample run pass safety
testing and Saracen’s approval, they will be air-shipped to the
UK for final approval, test riding and both studio and trail
photography for the 2018 brochure. They’ll then need to be
presented to the dealers and press, ready for orders to be taken
and reviews written. Meanwhile, there are the 2019 models
waiting in the wings with their own set of challenges and
component specs for products that haven’t been invented yet.
Hand-laid decals go onto the painted frames.
The final stage of the process.
Shooting for the glossy catalogue.
Photo: Saracen Bikes
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Thanks to Saracen Bikes, who paid for the
transport and accommodation on this trip.

23

JASON MILEs
PHOTOGRAPHY ED ROLLASON
YOUR SELF-HANDICAP, EXPOSED.
Jason Miles is partial to the odd niche or two: fat bikes and singlespeeds
being among them. He’s tolerant of everyone else’s too, provided they
don’t keep going on about them.
The world of mountain bikes provides us with a sometimes bewildering array of Tools For The Job. It doesn’t
matter what sort of riding we’re into – cross-country racing, big days out in the hills, riding downhill then
sitting in a van to get back to the top – with a bit of thought and some research you can find the perfect bike
for your needs.
Many of the people reading this, like me, have more
than one bike. Not so much one for every day of
the week, but probably a different bike for a given
application. You ride your road bike on the road, your
cyclocross bike in a ’cross race (or more likely, to work)
and your fat bike for… well I’m not sure what.
But who says you need to use the right tool for the
job all of the time? This isn’t brain surgery. I’m pretty
sure you need to use the right tool for the job in brain
surgery. And rocket science. Don’t start messing about
trying to smack rockets with a hammer or a shoe when
you should be using a precision instrument.
Riding bikes though – it can be a lot of fun
turning up to a gunfight with a toothpick, or even a
toothpick fight with a gun. I managed a 24-hour solo
once on a singlespeed fat bike, didn’t finish last, GOT
PAID because I kind of did it for a bet and probably
had more fun than everyone else put together. (It
was that Mountain Mayhem too – those who know,
know).
We’ve all seen people turning up to super-hilly
marathon events on singlespeeds. In fact, in the
past, I myself have turned up to hilly rides on a
singlespeed. Mostly it’s classic self-handicapping, but
to be perfectly honest when you choose to turn up on
a bike with no gears, do better than you thought you
were going to do, and then start moaning that you’ve
not got a special category in which to finish 7th, then
I sort of switch off. But the fact that, in our so-called
‘sport’, you can ride whatever you want, even a bike
that’s going to be in the wrong gear all of the time
and probably ruin your lower back, is ace, isn’t it? Go
on, try to get a game of snooker armed with a tennis
racquet. Never going to happen.
One thing’s for certain, though. In the same
way that ex-smokers always tell you that they used to
smoke, even if you were blind you’d still know that the
rider on the suboptimal bike was on a suboptimal bike
because they’d tell you. Maybe more than once, just to
make sure you understand.
Did I ever tell you I used to smoke? Twenty a day,
more at weekends.
It doesn’t matter that there isn’t a rigid-forked,
belt-drive 36er bamboo frame category though,
because you can just invent one later on Facebook.
It’s a win-win. If you’re rubbish on the day, blame
the bike. ‘I’ve only got one gear’, ‘My tyres have the
optimum pressure in them FOR SNOW’, or the
classic ‘Yeah this cargo bike is so versatile I can do my
shopping on the way home from this cyclocross race
I’m currently getting my arse kicked in’. Everyone will
clap and say you’re awesome.
If you’re really good though, you can properly
turn things on their head. ‘I beat loads of riders
with gears’, ‘The tyres were a right handful in the
singletrack, but I just used momentum/radness/
The Force’, or the classic ‘Yeah, this cargo bike is so
versatile I can win a massive trophy and ride home
with it as well as the rotting corpses of the slain’.
Everyone will clap and say you’re awesome.
See? It’s impossible to lose.
Turn up to a downhill race WITH a downhill
bike or a cross-country race on a carbon-framed 29er
with semi-slick tyres though, that’s asking for a world
of bother. A bit like playing five-a-side with your
fat mates while wearing white boots – YOU HAD
BETTER BE GOOD.
Unless you win, NOBODY will clap or think
you’re awesome so you’d better think of a self-handicap
Plan B and fast.
How about filling your water bottle with vodka?
Make sure everyone knows though and make sure you
invent that ‘inebriated’ category later on. Or what
about fully laden panniers in an enduro?
Use your imagination and grab the glory.
Anyone can be a winner.
24

COLUMN
25

TRAIL HUNTER EXPLORES THOSE
MUST-DO RIDES THAT SHOULD
BE ON EVERY BRITISH MOUNTAIN
BIKER’S BUCKET LIST.
SNOWDON:
THE PRINCE
OF WALES
Tom Fenton explores one of the ultimate
must-do locations in British mountain
biking. That highest, pointiest bit of Wales
– Mount Snowdon.
WORDS TOM FENTON PHOTOGRAPHY ANDY HEADING
Apparently, an elephant never forgets. And goldfish have
three-second memories. But did you know that tortoises have
turtle recall? [Ba-doom-tish! Pun Ed]
When it comes to bike magazines, people are more like
elephants than goldfish. We remember every article ever
written and constantly accuse magazines of rehashing articles.
But is that fair? Do writers have goldfish memories and a lack
of imagination? Or is it that there are limited places to ride
and relatively limited things to do on bikes?
But where, I hear you ask, is this leading? Well, North
Wales, if you must know, to write about one of the most
‘articled’ rides there is.
26

TRAIL HUNTER
27

That’s LegoLand down there in the distance.
There’s a reason Snowdon is a popular topic. It’s the big tick, a
proper mountain, a ride from sea level to the top of Wales and
back. A ride up Snowdon is a ride you’ll remember. The climb
is tough and unrideable in places, but satisfyingly tricky and
reaching the summit feels like a real achievement. At the top,
the views are incredible and if they’re not it’s because you’ve
hit bad weather and are in for the full mountain experience.
Either way, it’ll be unforgettable. And the descent is exactly as
it should be. Head down via the Ranger track and there’s not
a metre of wasted height, with rocks, switchbacks, fast open
sections and slow technical bits the whole way. Basically, it’s
ace, and I’ll take any excuse to ride it.
But there’s an elephant in the room. Or on the mountain.
The Snowdon bike ban means no riding on Snowdon between
ten in the morning and five at night during the summer.
Footnote
The bike ban is a voluntary agreement asking that cyclists
stay off the Snowdon bridleways between 10am and 5pm
from 1 May to 30 September. This isn’t actually a bad thing.
Snowdon gets busy, really busy. And as stopping your descent
every 30 seconds to wait for walkers is no fun – you might as
well obey the ban and get a clean run. Not only that, going up
at dawn or dusk makes the whole thing more of an adventure.
28

Hike-a-bike. Miss-a-view.
It’s not quite Wales if you don’t include a sheep.
29

Soon to be railing corners on the way back down.
Crack of sparrow’s fart.
Today, we pick an early start. Dawn rides are ace. Once you’ve
dragged yourself out of bed, you’ve done the hard bit. There’s
a slight chill in the air, a strange tint to the light and a stillness
that makes you feel guilty for breathing loudly. It’s a little bit
magical and always worth it.
Joining me in Llanberis at 6am are Andy and Al. They
decided to get up at two in the morning and drive through
the night. I generally like to be asleep at that time, so I headed
over the night before. However, by the time I arrived it had
gone midnight and the temperature had plummeted, leaving
me wide awake and freezing in my tiny sleeping bag. When I
meet Andy and Al at dawn, both raring to go, it appears my
plan has backfired… Not that I admit it.
As we cruise through the empty streets of Llanberis, I
remember past trips up Snowdon. There was the New Year’s
Eve summit bivi with fireworks and ‘champagne’. It rained,
the tent leaked, the Asti tasted like, er, Asti and the fireworks
were too damp to light. Then there was the trip where I
listened to an entire Rage Against the Machine album at full
blast on the drive over, exploded out of the car vibrating with
excitement and kicked a load of fully-suspended ass, up and
down the hill, despite being on my hardtail.
Al can remember a visit to Snowdon too, a trip where
he and a mate came over in the rain and walked up in jeans
and leather motorbike jackets. Soaked to the skin, they
encountered the army carrying out path modifications using
dynamite. Forced to take cover behind a rock, they were
virtually hypothermic by the time they got down.
A little disappointed that today’s trip will be less
‘memorable’ than Al’s, we begin to climb. Both Al and Andy
usually ride singlespeeds, but Snowdon appears to have scared
them onto more sensible bikes. However, as they stand on the
pedals and begin to stomp powerfully up the initial tarmac
climb I figure that they’ve forgotten how to shift. Then I
realise they’re in their easiest gears and out of the saddles
because the tarmac start is that steep. But, while steep is one
way to look at it, efficient is another, and we’re soon high
above town and looking for the Llanberis bridleway. I have to
sprint to stop Al, who’s ridden straight past the sign marked
‘Snowdon Summit’. You’d have thought it was a clue.
Get on up.
The Llanberis climb is a wide track with odd rock steps and
slabs blocking the way. It’s fun. Knowing the other two are
good on the climbs, I tell them it’s ‘80 per cent rideable’ and
set off. I don’t even get 10 metres before mistiming a wheel lift
and almost going over the bars - on a climb. Al doesn’t get any
further and Andy, laden with camera gear, wisely decides not
to try. ‘Seventy per cent,’ I say.
30

31

We climb higher. Al leads the way, pedalling powerfully
and smoothly up the rocky slabs. I glance back and Andy’s
right behind me, picking careful lines through the tricky
sections. We’re soon passing the shuttered-up halfway house
and approaching the hardest section of the climb, the bit I’ve
never seen anyone close to riding. Once a boulder-strewn
slope, it’s been resurfaced with stone steps but is still nigh
on impossible. I make it up the first couple before giving up.
Andy tries to sneak round the outside, but he too is soon off
and pushing. Pushing all the way through the tunnel and all
the way up the loose slope beyond.
As we climb, Al spots another rider high above us.
Then we meet a couple of runners, a dog walker, and a
group of school kids who’ve camped at the top. ‘YOU’RE
DAWDLING, BOYS!’, bellows their teacher. I don’t think he
meant us.
We’re greeted at the summit by the rumble of a diesel
generator and a friendly blast from its exhaust. Prince Charles
once described Snowdon as ‘the highest slum in Wales’. A
little harsh, perhaps, but with a concrete railway station
and associated paraphernalia, it’s certainly not the prettiest
mountaintop. But ignore the immediate surroundings and it’s
stunning. The sun’s out and the morning mist is just burning
off. There are mountains on three sides and the sea on the
other. Ridges and valleys climb towards us from every angle.
We can spot the different tracks leading up the hill, see where
we’re going and where we’ve been. It’s spectacular.
It’s also busy – at 8am. We don’t stop long before turning to
rattle down the summit steps. Right away the descent leaves
an impression. Rocks dotted across a smooth track means
there’s plenty of line choice. Cruise a bit here, pick a fast line
there and hop off a rock when you fancy it. But don’t get
too carried away, as awkward lines or big rock steps seem to
appear the instant you stop paying sufficient attention. Two
minutes into a 700m descent and I’m already having a whale
of a time.
Concentration at an all time high.
32

33

34

Looking for the Ranger.
We head for the Ranger’s Path. Apparently the oldest route to
the summit, it’s definitely the best way down. There are two
other bridleway options – the easier Llanberis track, and the
Rhyd Ddu, a mega-technical ridge that’s part ride, part walk.
Both are good, but the Ranger occupies the happy middle
ground.
Al leads the way and Andy and I sprint after him. Neither
of them are slow riders. There are plenty of technical descents
I’ve ridden fast and smoothly, ready to give myself a pat on the
back for my efforts, only to realise that one of them is right on
my wheel on a fully-rigid singlespeed, or something equally
stupid. So I stick with them as we head downhill, ready for
some fun.
Now ahead of us is Snowdon mountain railway track.
A foot or so wide and several inches high, the rusty rails are
an intimidating obstacle – but a temptingly hoppable one. I
hatch a plan to pull a cheeky overtake on Al as we cross the
tracks. But then he brakes, swinging left at the exact moment
I pull alongside. Avoiding a collision by a whisker, I yank
on the bars in panic and fly sideways over the rails before
squirrelling off the track. That’ll teach me.
Al has recently returned from the Highland Trail 550 and
his bike is still in epic-ride mode, equipped with weird sweptback
handlebars and a suspension seatpost. Remember them?
Great for comfort, not control, especially when you stand up
and the post extends a couple of inches higher than you’d like.
I can see why he didn’t hop.
Rangers, this way please.
35

Pick a better day for weather, we dare you.
Andy, meanwhile, has brought his 26in hardtail. I note
he hasn’t fitted the bottle cage I bought him at Christmas.
True, the gift was mainly so he’d stop making me carry his
water (won’t fit in the camera bag, apparently), but I only
mention how hurt I am a couple of times. Anyway, he’s used
to a big 29er, and the smaller bike feels twitchy and awkward.
Conclusive proof that big wheels are better, or just a case of
unfamiliar bike-itis? He does seem slower than usual, but who
wouldn’t be with thousands of pounds of camera gear strapped
to their back? As both his speed and grin-size increase the
further we go, it seems he’s just getting used to the bike again.
The only wheel conclusion I reach is that Andy’s six-foot-lots
make the tiny wheels look pretty silly underneath him.
Pig-mucking, switchbacky fun.
In contrast, I am as happy as a pig in muck. I’ve got big
forks, a stupidly slack head angle and a large hill to play with.
Rattling through rocks on a big, wide track, I barrel into rock
gardens that ping me sideways and lean from line to line,
wheels scrabbling for grip on the gravelly surface. I take a wide
line round a cairn, essentially out of control but having a great
time. Was that a drift? It felt like a drift! (It wasn’t a drift.)
The track narrows to singletrack, just as rocky, but with
fewer line choices. I pick my way through a rocky gap and size
up a rapidly approaching drop/corner combo. Do I launch the
drop and hit the corner off the brakes? Do I hell. I carefully
lower my front wheel down the tiny step and creep around
the corner.
A couple of corners later and I’m in the swing of things.
Ahead is the highlight of the descent: a snaking line of
switchbacks and corners. As it comes into sight from above,
the white rock of the trail stands out from grassy green slopes,
twisting and turning, and you can’t help but get excited. And
so you should. Corner after corner, with enough room to pick
wide lines and just enough grip on the loose rock to skitter
through with a little speed and a big grin.
Then everything changes. The track funnels you down
a series of rocky steps in a tight gully and becomes crazily
technical. There’s no obvious line, just awkwardly spaced
drops past ankle-jabbing spikes. Just roll in and hope.
Al doesn’t fancy it, and I don’t blame him. I remember
the first time I rode the Ranger. Determined not to take the
chicken line on the grass bank, I had around 20 attempts and
20 crashes before sketching through the gully. How long will
it take today? Some walkers appear. I wave them through, but
they want to watch. Deep breath… and over the bars I go.
36

37

Balls. The walkers, sensing blood, hang around as I push back
up. Double balls. Now I’ve got to do it. And, miraculously,
I do, buzzing the rear tyre as I hang off the back, bouncing
downwards and hoping for the best. I’d like to claim there was
skill involved, but really I just hung on.
And breathe.
A flattish section gives us a breather. Ahead, the Ranger
continues to the road – fun all the way. But we need to get
to Llanberis and, as the number of walkers is increasing by
the minute, we turn right over a grassy rise. Cresting the top,
a small valley comes into view. Through it we can see the
Dinorwig slate quarries, the Snowdon train chugging away,
and walkers on the track we climbed earlier. But none of these
hold our attention, because in front of us is Telegraph Alley –
a perfect narrow trail, dropping gradually for as far as the eye
can see.
The only downside I can see for single chainrings is
that you can no longer describe things as ‘big-ring’ territory.
Instead, tracks like Telegraph Alley are just plain old ‘fast’.
It’s smooth, but interrupted by rock drainage bars. If you’re
happy hopping them, the trail is flat-out fun. You can see
for miles, so nothing takes you by surprise and the speed is
intoxicating. If you don’t fancy hopping, it’s still fun as the
bars aren’t particularly vicious and there’s loads of room to
slow down. Everyone’s a winner!
On that happy note, we whiz into Llanberis. The ride is
over. It’S now done (see what I did there?) but, thanks to the
early start, the day is still ahead of us. First, we need breakfast,
so it’s into the cafe for a couple of mugs of tea and some beans
on toast. What next? Sadly, remembering we’ve all got work
to do, we should head for home. I get five minutes down the
road before pulling a swift U-turn. Snowdon’s left me buzzing
and I want more. A quick lap of the nearby Gwydir trail
seems like a good option. It’s fast, swoopy and fun, and by the
time I’m done I’m a sweaty knackered mess, but as happy as
I’ve ever been after a ride.
Then I spot something at the back of the car park. Is that
Andy’s car?
Another trail, hunted and ticked off the list.
38

39

RECOMMENDED
HERE AT SINGLETRACK TOWERS, WE PUT A LOT OF PRODUCTS
THROUGH THE GRINDER. SINGLETRACK RECOMMENDED IS
THE ABSOLUTE CREAM OF THE CROP OF THE GEAR WE’VE
BEEN TESTING. IT’S THE KIT THAT WE USE LONG AFTER
TESTING HAS FINISHED. THE PRODUCTS THAT WE WOULD GO
OUT AND PURCHASE WITH OUR OWN MONEY. GEAR THAT’S SO
GOOD IT EARNS OUR RECOMMENDED SEAL OF APPROVAL.
WORDS THE SINGLETRACK TEAM PHOTOGRAPHY ROB
SHIMANO
SLX GROUPSET
Price:
From:
Tested:
Tester:
Cassette: £74.99, Cranks: £99.99, Chainrings:
£34.99, Shifters: £34.99 for the left and £36.99
for the right, Brakes: £94.99 per brake excluding
rotors and adaptors, Rotors: £29.99–£49.99
Madison, madison.co.uk
Six Months
Chipps
While it’s all very nice to play around with chichi components
like Shimano’s XTR, or its electronic shifting Di2 groups, the
majority of the world is more likely to be riding around on
regular groupsets, like Shimano’s more down to earth SLX and
Deore groups.
After its last outing in 2013, the SLX groupset was due
a redesign and it was no surprise to see the fresh SLX M7000
groupset take many influences from XT and XTR. The biggest
changes were probably in the slimming down of the brakes
and the increase of gear ratios. SLX went 11-speed, while also
heralding in wider 11–40T, 11–42T and, recently 11–46T
cassettes to give a greater range of gears, whether running it
1x11 or 2x11 (there’s even a 3x10, though we doubt we’ll see
many of those in the UK).
While XT components are often comparable to XTR,
with SLX there are more material changes to keep the price
affordable. Where XT might use alloy shifter paddles (and
XTR alloy and carbon), the SLX paddles are plastic coated
steel. Sometimes finishing touches are omitted, again to keep
costs down: SLX brake levers are alloy, like XT, but lack the
little textured dimples that add a tiny bit of grip and feel to
the levers. Many riders, though, are happy to skip these little
touches and accept a little more overall weight in return for
affordability.
Starting at the brakes, the SLX brakes have the new,
much slimmed down design, trickled down from XTR, with
a small oil reservoir, slim clamp and svelteness that brings
a single front brake, hose and caliper in at 263g without
skimping on power or performance. There’s still a tool-free
reach adjuster (though you lose the bite-point adjustment
from XT and XTR). The brakes ship with stock resin pads,
but the design is shared through the range, so upgrading to
finned metallic pads, as we have, is easily done.
The SLX shifters have the ‘Dynasys’ shifting that is
common throughout the range and shifts are accurate and
smooth, though fairly stiff and far from the efficient ‘snick’ of
XTR. There’s a lot of free-throw on both the thumb and finger
trigger before you start moving cable. And while the two-way
finger trigger remains it does lack the double-upshift that XT
has, which racers will definitely miss.
Perhaps strangely, there isn’t an SLX bottom bracket.
You can spin on either XT (£34.99) or Deore (£16.99) so the
choice is yours.
The SLX chainset is a smart affair. Slab-sided forged
aluminium has kept tidy enough through the test and, despite
the logo almost instantly wearing, I reckon the crank looks
better than a similarly used XTR chainset, whose high-polish
finish quickly shows every heel scuff and rock scratch.
Shimano still doesn’t make a dedicated trail 1x chainset,
so even with this single ring setup, with Shimano’s forged
DCE (Dynamic Chain Engagement) chainring, the crank still
has threads for a ghost inner chainring.
Talking of chainrings, the chainring is a compositereinforced
forged steel job, coming in 30T, 32T or 34T.
Shimano’s offset four-bolt system means you’re limited in
terms of aftermarket rings – and, perhaps more importantly,
a 30T ring is the smallest you can run. Something that 29er
riders or those with a lot of climbing to do might not like.
As mentioned, our SLX came set up 1x11, so we’ve not
had a chance to try any of the 16 different front derailleur
options. Shimano does make great front mechs, though, if
you like that kind of thing.
Finally, out back we have the SLX GS Long Cage
11-speed rear mech, playing over a matching 11-speed
cassette. The cassette is mostly a collection of individual full
steel sprockets, rather than the spider-mounted clusters of XT,
40

ST RECOMMENDED
with only the largest three sprockets mounted on a composite
carrier to reduce weight. The largest sprocket is aluminium,
again to cut down on weight. The 11–42T cassette weighs in
at 481g, not a huge penalty over the XT model.
So how does it ride? The groupset in general is extremely
competent to the point of dullness. Everything works as
expected and I couldn’t find anything really to complain
about. It’s a little heavier than XT, but it’s a little cheaper too.
Braking, especially after fitting upgraded pads, is great.
Firm and predictable, with instant hands-free adjustment of
reach. The look, too, is small and neat enough to complement
any bike.
I didn’t miss having a brake bite-point adjuster, but the
free play on the shift lever did annoy me, especially when
swapping from a bike with SRAM’s ballpoint pen-clickiness
to its shifting. And while we’re comparing, Shimano’s 11–46T
cassette is still left wanting compared to SRAM’s 10–50T GX
Eagle, or even Sun Race’s 11–50T for single ringers. If you’re
a double chainring advocate, then that’s not an issue and
Shimano’s ranges are great for 2x11. I can’t help but think that
front derailleurs will go the way of quill stems sooner rather
than later though.
Overall
Smooth shifting, firm braking and good, lasting looks from
SLX. I’d be quite happy running this on any of my bikes,
regardless of price, though I might upgrade to an XT shifter
in time. Though, when are they going to get properly on the
one-by boat, eh?
41

TROY LEE DESIGNS
RAID KNEE PADS
Price:
From:
Tested:
Tester:
£110.00
Saddleback, saddleback.co.uk
Three Months
Wil
In Issue 112 of Singletrack Magazine, we tested 14 sets of
lightweight knee pads as part of our ‘Pads For Pedalling’ group
test. Designed for maximum flexibility and comfort for all-day
pedalling, most of those pads were about as minimalist as it
gets for a knee pad, making them ideal for knee pad newbies
and those who typically detest wearing them in the first place.
Stepping up the protection levels over the Troy Lee
Designs Speed Sleeve knee pads that won the ‘Most
Comfortable’ award in that group test, the Raid is the next
model up in the TLD knee protection range. With more
protection, more coverage, and more adjustability, the Raid
knee pads are claimed to “protect your knees when you run
out of talent”, which for me is quite frequently.
Available in three sizes, the Raid knee pad uses a similar
tube-style construction to the Speed Sleeves, but has further
adjustability via a large elasticated strap around the upper cuff.
The bulk of the fabric is a stretchy neoprene-type jobby,
so they’re pretty snug to pull on, and the non-stretchy PU
band on the back of the calf can make the job a little tougher.
With more coverage and thicker materials, the Raids are a
little warmer to ride with, but thanks to the mesh backing
and perforated holes moulded into the D3O panel, they’re
surprisingly good at not stewing your knee caps.
Whether you’re climbing, meandering or attacking
a descent, the Raid knee pads have a very generous and
secure feel. The fit is excellent, with the articulated knee and
longer cut helping to keep things steady. Inside, the upper
cuff has a thick band of silicone detailing that sticks to your
skin like a gecko sticks to honey. Along with the adjustable
strap, the Raid pads aren’t interested in creeping down your
legs whatsoever, negating the need for constant annoying
readjustments on the trail.
Like the Speed Sleeves, the Raid draws on clever D3O
technology to build a flexible articulated pad around the knee
cap. In the case of the Raid pads, the D3O panel is much
thicker, and covers more flesh and bone, extending partway
down the shin to provide an effective barrier against sharp
pedal pins. The thick padding feels soft and blobby, like an
over-ripened avocado, but using science, D3O is designed to
harden on impact, with the molecules locking together to turn
the soft and spongy pad into a firm structure that distributes
impact energy. There are sufficient absorption qualities to earn
CE certification, and TLD has added in two additional EVA
foam protective panels placed both sides of each pad, along
with a strip over the top of each knee. All up, there’s plenty of
protection for the hardest bumps and thumps any trail rider
or enduro racer might encounter.
Overall
Loads of protection for the pinners, with enough comfort and
flexibility for the spinners, the Raids are a tough and secure
knee pad that will appeal to many.
42

43

TOPEAK
RATCHET ROCKET LITE NTX
Price:
From:
Tested:
Tester:
£72.99
Extra UK, extrauk.co.uk
Four Months
Wil
I must confess that I’ve a fetish for ninja tools. Integrated
frame storage, clever tubeless tyre plug kits, compact foldout
multi-tools – any gadget that’s well made and is properly
useful gets a big tick in my book. And without doubt,
the Ratchet Rocket Lite NTX has earned its place in that
metaphorical book.
With a truly enormous range of tools, pumps and other
bicycle accessories that seems to expand exponentially year
on year, Topeak has its fair share of those ‘cor that’s brilliant!’
products, and the Ratchet Rocket Lite NTX fits the bill. The
Taiwanese brand has made a mini ratchet tool for a little while
now under the Ratchet Rocket Lite DX name. What we’ve got
here is the same thing, but with the addition of three torque
bits to present a comprehensive tool kit for use both in the
workshop and out in the field.
Open up the Velcro flap of the Ratchet Rocket Lite NTX
kit, and you’re greeted with a pleasingly neat array of tool bits
along with the mini ratchet tool, an extension socket, three
preset Nano TorqBits, and two plastic tyre levers. Like a welldesigned
shadow-board, everything has its own rightful place,
with each tool bit residing in a small illustrated elastic pocket.
For those of us who ensure our tyre logos are correctly aligned
with our valve stems, this level of organisation is thoroughly
pleasing.
From 2mm to 8mm, all the necessary Allen key sizes are
taken care of, including that nifty 2.5mm head that many
brands often annoyingly omit from their multi-tools. You’ve
got T10 and T25 Torx heads, and a Phillips head screwdriver
too. All the bits are made from quality hardened steel, so
they’re built to last.
The preset TorqBits cover you with 4Nm, 5Nm and 6Nm
options, and they’re beautifully colour-coded too. Like the
extension socket, the TorqBits are also magnetic, so the tool
bits are reassuringly sucked into place as you load them.
For sure it’s easy to overlook using a torque wrench for
mounting things like seatposts or adjusting brake lever clamps
– I know I don’t always use one. But when the solution is
presented as neatly as it is here, you’ll find yourself setting the
torque correctly every time.
While it is well-stocked, the Ratchet Rocket Lite NTX
kit doesn’t have everything. You’ll still need a chain breaker,
and it’d be great to see a little designated pouch for things like
quick links and patch kits. The tyre levers are also a touch on
the short side if you’re dealing with a particularly tight tyre
and rim combination.
Also, the name is kinda dull (personally I’d call it
something much catchier, like ‘The Ray Mears Bicycle
Survival Kit’), but regardless, this is easily one of the coolest
bits of kit we’ve had through Singletrack Towers.
Overall
The price may seem high, but then good tools don’t come
cheap. And when they’re this well organised and this well
made, doing the job properly becomes that much easier.
44

45

WORDS CHARLIE THE BIKEMONGER
ROOM 101
Every issue we highlight some of those niggly aspects of being a mountain biker. Our
resident judge considers the evidence for and against each case. Often, a part of mountain
biking that we’ve never noticed infuriating us is brought into focus, judged, and then cast
into Room 101 along with top tube frame pads, purple anodising and mountain bike aero
bars. And other times, the plaintiff is simply told to get a life and stop whining…
Our guest Judge this issue is once again the saviour of steel, singlespeeds and anything
quirky. He is Charlie the Bikemonger. Bike shop owner, bum-butter purveyor and larger
than life character.
The Uncivilised Few
John Lloyd
There is a famous quote from one P. Martin Scott that goes:
“Bicycles are the indicator species of a community, like
shellfish in a bay.” The analogy being that a community
complete with many cyclists is happier and healthier than
one without. This is backed up by almost all research on the
subject. Widespread cycling makes the population healthier,
the roads safer, reduces pollution, increases mobility, and
lowers the cost of transportation infrastructure.
But on a more personal level, cycling has the capability
to create a stronger community – it reduces stress, social
interaction is increased, strong and lasting friendships are
formed. Cyclists are friendly people; the natural camaraderie
between people with bicycles has enormous benefits to both
society and the individual. Cycling is civilised, cycling is
sensible, and cycling should be promoted.
And yet, as with most human activities, the enjoyment
of the majority is tarnished by a small number of people.
People who don’t follow the rules of the road, and might not
recognise the kindred spirit of other people on bicycles. We
have all seen them cycling on pavements, ignoring the traffic
management systems and putting themselves and others at
needless risk. These uncivilised cyclists who force their way
through pedestrian traffic, choose not to avail themselves of
high visibility clothing or safety gear and show little respect to
other people – they are one of the reasons why bicycle traffic is
not always given the respect it deserves.
If all cyclists were civilised (and welcomed), then
communities would benefit, transportation systems would
benefit, and individual people would benefit.
I argue, therefore, that uncivilised cyclists be consigned to
Room 101.
Charlie says:
I could not agree more that cycling makes for a lovely
community of well-dressed gentlemen and ladies, going
about their daily lives in a charming and civilised way. This is
entirely true in many places. However, one of those places is
not Boscombe (insert your own crappy neighbourhood here).
For it is here that we can witness the freedom and opportunity
the bicycle gives to what one might describe as a cad, bounder,
stinker, damned rotter or ****ing dick. He cannot only make
swift getaways, and midnight pickups are a breeze, but he can
also impress pregnant 15-year-olds with his wheelies.
I would argue the population of curb-hopping, lightjumping,
weed-dealing, kids wearing hoodies not helmets is
much greater than that of the civilised cycling community. Is
it us, the well-behaved cyclists who are in the minority? Are
we the odd ones out? Are we making Kyle, the spotty hoodie
on his stolen Carrera with no rear brake and no seatpost, look
bad?
No, we are not. But uncivilised cycling cannot go to
Room 101. For, you see, it is the uncivilised cyclist who takes
chances, hucks big drops, pulls impressive wheelies… who
eventually becomes a world-class downhiller. Every society
going all the way back to the beginning of time needs the
unruly ones to fight the mammoths, jump the cliffs, wrestle
the bears. Yes, they might get eaten, and make the rest of the
tribe cringe… Actually, sod it, yes, uncivilised cyclists can go
to Room 101, and you can carry the consequences of the derad-ening
of the cycling world. Can you handle that? The next
world cup downhill race will be on folding commuter bikes,
with gentlemen accoutred in tweed suits.
46

Internal Operation
Dave Boffey
For Room 101 I’d like to nominate internally routed cabling.
Whoever thought of this needs a hoof in the slats. Yes, it looks
nice and pretty on your new factory assembled bike, where
they’ve had access all areas and there are no parts hanging off
it. Fast forward a couple of years and it’s shabby shifting or
a change of brakes. This is when it all goes sadly – badly –
wrong. You lose yourself in the shed working on all manner of
ways to thread cables into strangely shaped tubes, past pivots,
and taping bits to pull through the fresh lines. Arghh! Four
bloody hours of my life down the drain. Bring back external
routing and zip ties. All is forgiven.
Charlie says:
Thank you for your contribution. As a cycle shop keeper I
understand what you are going through, and it’s even worse
when you are trying to make money. A £12 cable swap and
gear tune that should take ten minutes becomes an hour of
progressively angry frustration, culminating in the swearing,
the tool throwing, and using Gary Fisher’s name in vain.
So it’s better to have the workings of a bicycle on the
outside is it? Let’s apply this theory to the human body. So we
run the veins and sticky stuff down the outside of our legs.
Imagine the screams as spurting blood vessels cover the gorse
heath in gore. Mountain bikers would have to wear full metal
armour protection over their innards, and hell… we would
just look so damned weird and ugly.
Having said that… The clean sleek lines of an internally
routed bike are not worth the long-term troubles. It’s a vanity
project cooked up by someone who designs stuff, but never
has to deal with the consequences.
‘Infernal’ routing can go straight to Room 101. But you
do need to know about the Park Tool IR-1.2.
Charlie says:
I must add that I am thoroughly enjoying my overlord position
with Room 101. So please email editorial@singletrackworld.com
with your suggestions... what grinds your gears, flicks your plums,
and needs to be banished to Room 101. What have you got for
me? There’ll be Bum Butter for successful submissions.

KILLER
HARDTAILS
Wil and the crew rode the rubber off these three
modern hardtail bikes. And then they took them
to Austria for the photo shoot.
WORDS WIL PHOTOGRAPHY JAMES VINCENT
Traditionally, owning a hardtail signifies a new rider’s official arrival
into the mountain biking universe. Some see it as a rite of passage, an
obligatory stepping stone. And for many riders, riding a hardtail is often
responsible for providing that very first thrill. It’s the two-wheeled vessel
that channels a shot of adrenaline as gravity takes over your body in a
way never before experienced. The hardtail is typically – if you will – the
gateway drug into our addictive avocation.
But while cost is often the reason that riders begin mountain biking
with a hardtail instead of a full suspension bike, it isn’t the only reason to
own one. Far from it in fact.
The most obvious advantage a hardtail presents is, of course, weight.
Pure and simple, a hardtail frame will always weigh less than a frame
with a shock bolted into it – usually at least a kilo or so – which can go a
very long way if your riding involves anything but flat terrain.
Simplicity is another big factor. With no pivots or bearings to wear
out, a hardtail offers a significantly longer service life – particularly for
those who are uninterested in routine servicing in the first place. For this
reason, a hardtail is an ideal choice for all-weather British riders who are
fed up with replacing pivot bolts or listening to the tortured sound of
squeaky bearings.
It isn’t all about practicality though – some choose a hardtail for ride
quality. No, a hardtail isn’t going to be as comfortable to ride on choppy
terrain as those bikes damped with a rear shock. But when it comes to
things like responsiveness, acceleration, cornering, or directional changes,
a hardtail possesses the inherent advantage of unrivalled trail feedback.
Push into the pedals, and the bike pushes back. Feel the terrain through
your contact points, dip into the rollers, pop off the lips, snap out of the
turns. Yes, riding a hardtail can also deliver a helluva lot of yahoos.
Then there’s the skills thing. Without a moving linkage and rear
shock to duly swallow up the thunks and thwacks, a hardtail demands
you to choose the smoother lines. It teaches you to find flow, and to read
the trail ahead. No reckless ploughing like you’re reclined on a couch.
Pessimists see a hardtail as being more difficult to ride on steep, rocky
and rooty terrain. Optimists see it as a precision tool for dissecting trails
to improve riding skills.
There are surely many reasons why one would choose to ride a
hardtail, and simply being a beginner or on a budget is only the start.
To see what today’s hardtails have to offer, we chose three options
that cover multiple wheel sizes, different frame materials, and provide
their own unique take on the mountain biking experience.
48

BIKE TEST
IN ASSOCIATION WITH
49

KONA
HONZO CR TRAIL DL
Price:
From:
£4,399.00
Kona Bikes, konaworld.com
Kona is a brand that has been doing the hardtail very well for
a long time. It’s delivered some cracking entry-level bikes and
top-flight cross-country race machines over its 29-year history,
but the brand is better known for its approach to producing
capable hardtails that place the primary focus on fun, rather
than on price or weight. And with a knack for reading the
mountain bike market like a tarot card, Kona has also made a
bit of a habit for setting wider industry trends in its wake.
Take the original Honzo that was launched in 2012 – a
burly steel 29er hardtail that was anything but cross-country.
The Honzo wasn’t quite the first rad 29er hardtail to hit the
market (the Banshee Paradox and Canfield Yelli Screamy
preceded it), but Kona did a lot to win over non-cross-country
riders to the big wheels. And boy did it bring the rad to the
29er party.
With its slack head angle, tight 420mm chainstays and
burly parts spec, the Honzo quickly became the benchmark
for other big wheel trail bikes. It was heavy and somewhat
under-geared with its 1x10 drivetrain, but it was mighty
tough and mega fun for ripping apart singletrack. Its addictive
ride quality set the bar for 29er trail bikes, and many other
brands are still trying catch on today.
For 2017, the Honzo is now exclusively produced in alloy
and carbon options. There are seven models in total (four
alloy and three carbon), and all are built around the same
geometry with a 120mm travel fork.
The black stallion here is the top-end Honzo Carbon Trail
DL. It’s the first Honzo to be made out of carbon fibre, and it
stands as Kona’s flagship carbon 29er hardtail.
The Bike
For a bike that is black-on-black-on-black, the Honzo is a
rather eye-catching machine, and one that confuses many
riders at first. With such a short back-end and burly fork,
it looks like it belongs at a slopestyle course rather than a
trailhead.
Having said goodbye to the traditional cross-country race
hardtail with the last King Kahuna model back in 2015, Kona
has instead decided that carbon hardtails shouldn’t be limited
to racing. The Honzo is lightweight and expensive yes, but it’s
a bike that’s been hard-wired into silly mode.
The gorgeous frame is full of sleek and organic shapes,
with svelteness where possible, and oversized chunk where it
counts. A 92mm wide PF92 bottom bracket shell provides
a stable platform for power delivery from the pedals, while
a gargantuan headtube junction ensures loads of frontal
stiffness. Like the BB, the headtube houses press-in bearing
cups.
The frame is built around a 120mm travel fork, which in
the case of the DL model is a RockShox Pike RCT3. There’s
Boost hub spacing front and rear, and the conventionally
laced wheels are built with WTB Asym i29 rims that use a
generous 29mm internal width. Those are matched up to a
burly Minion DHF tyre up front, and a faster-rolling Ardent
out back.
Along with the fork and wheelset, everywhere you look
on the Honzo CR Trail DL just bellows capability. Fourpiston
SRAM brakes deliver the power with a 180mm rotor
on the front, and Kona has specced a KS dropper post for
slamming the saddle out of the way when things get wild and
woolly.
Just like the original steel Honzo, the carbon frame is 1x
only. Along with the Boost offset drivetrain and low-hanging
bottom bracket, that’s allowed Kona to build in some seriously
short chainstays – 415mm to be precise. Outrageously short!
To achieve such a number, the seat tube curves around the
rear wheel to tuck it in as closely as possible. There isn’t a
load of mud clearance, and the frame is definitely not 27.5+
compatible. Apparently the geometry compromises weren’t
worth it for Kona’s designers, and so the Honzo is a purebred
29er.
Other numbers on the Honzo are similarly boundarypushing.
A 68° head angle relaxes handling at speed, while
each frame size is gifted a substantial wheelbase length that’s
delivered by a very roomy front centre. On the Medium
test bike, you’re looking at a 450mm reach, which to put
it in perspective, is just 5mm short of the reach of an XL
Nukeproof Scout 290. That is long by anyone’s book, and
particularly when we’re talking about a lightweight racecapable
hardtail like this. Short at the back and long up front?
You bet – and then some.
50

The Honzo frame is littered with sweet details including
several neat internal cable routing ports.
The seat and chainstays on the Honzo are beautifully formed.
51

52

Kona has also built the Honzo with a compact seat
tube that offers plenty of standover clearance with room for
an upgrade to a longer-travel dropper post. Other practical
details include external routing for the rear brake hose, and
liberal use of vibration-deadening rubber inside the rear
triangle.
The Ride
Unanimous amongst all testers was praise for the Honzo’s
riding position. It’s well proportioned with the tidy 45mm
stem and 760mm wide riser bars keeping you stretched out
like other cross-country bikes, but with a much more stable
‘we got this!’ vibe. Likewise, the ribbed ODI grips and KS
Southpaw lever are welcome control-boosters for high-speed
action.
As expected from the lightest and most expensive bike on
test, the Honzo requires the least effort to get moving. It’s fast
and energetic, and acceleration out of the stiff carbon frame
and tight back end is insanely good. The chunky treads mean
it isn’t as quick as a traditional race bike, but a tyre swap is all
you need to get set up for a weekend of cross-country racing.
Once the trail gets loose and tricky though, the added
traction is welcome and the Honzo digs deep to climb high.
The static 75° seat angle is steep, and it gets steeper as the fork
sags into its travel, helping you to push your weight forward
for punching up the climbs. Steering remains steady even
without a long stem and steep head angle.
For my 70kg riding weight, I ran 18–21psi in the tyres.
The wide WTB rims help to make lower pressures possible
with less chance of casing roll through the corners, and overall
comfort was very good from the carbon frame. Compared
to the alloy Nukeproof and steel Trillion, the Honzo was the
most effective at shearing the edges off sharp ledges on the
trail.
As for the Pike, I ran 76 psi to get me 30% sag while
standing up on the pedals. I left the low-speed compression
dial wide open for maximum compliance, and set the rebound
two clicks slower than halfway. The Pike is, without doubt,
a big performance enhancer for the Honzo, giving it an
indestructible feel and arguably far too much confidence
for sending it downhill. Its smooth sliding stanchions keep
the front tyre connected to the dirt, and the chunky 35mm
chassis sucks up the bigger showstopping hits very well – even
when I hit full compression on multiple occasions.
Due to the light overall weight, the Honzo does require
some management when hoofing along boulder-strewn trails.
At faster speeds the stiff back end bounces around like the
needle on a seismometer, though as long as you’re pointing the
bars in the right direction the rear wheel follows obediently.
This animated ride quality can be a little disconcerting if
you’re used to plush full-suspension rigs, but if you don’t mind
a bit of heart-fluttering action, the Honzo will happily tap
dance its way down the trail with you.
Admittedly, much of our test time on the Honzo was on
far rockier terrain than it’s really suited for. Ultimately, this is
a bike born to thrive on hardpack and loamy singletrack set
deep in the forest, weaving its way around tree trunks like a
black mamba snake. And on these types of trails, the snappy
response of the laterally stiff frame, compact rear end and
low-BB make it an absolute scream of a ride. Combined with
its flickability, jumpability and acceleration properties, the
Honzo encapsulates everything that is good about a hardtail.
Aside from a sticky KS LEV dropper post and creaky
saddle rails, everything worked well on the Honzo. The
SRAM Guide RSC brakes were brilliant, and easily the
best on test with loads of power when required, but most
importantly for a bike without rear suspension, sufficient
control of that power to finely modulate speed. The 1x11 X01
drivetrain was quiet and efficient, and aside from the cassette
coming loose on the first few rides and needing a quick
tighten up, shifting was excellent.
Overall
There is no doubting that the Honzo CR Trail DL is an
expensive bike. You could buy four of the Nukeproofs for the
same price, and it’s even £400 more expensive than Kona’s
brilliant Hei Hei DL full suspension bike I tested recently. But
if you measure value by words and numbers on paper, then
you’re never going to be the rider that considers the Honzo in
the first place.
What Kona has done with the Honzo is craft a wickedly
fast, fun and responsive ride that bends genres. Initially I
would have said it’s a ripping ride for an XC hardtail, but then
it’s just a ripping bike full stop.
Frame
Fork
Hubs
Rims
Tyres
Chainset
Rear Mech
Shifter
Cassette
Carbon Fibre
RockShox Pike RCT3, 120mm Travel
SRAM 900, 110x15mm F & 148x12mm R
WTB Asym i23, Tubeless Ready
Maxxis Minion DHF EXO 2.3in F
Maxxis Ardent EXO 2.25in R
SRAM X01, 32Y X-Sync
SRAM X01 11-Speed
SRAM X01 11-Speed
SRAM XG-1180, 10-42T, 11-Speed
Brakes
Stem
Bars
Seatpost
Saddle
Size Tested
Sizes Available
Weight
SRAM Guide RSC, 180mm F & 160mm R
Kona XC/BC 35, 45mm Long
Kona XC/BC 35, 760mm Wide, 10mm Rise
KS LEV Integra, 31.6mm Diameter,
125mm Travel
WTB SL8
Medium
Small, Medium, Large, X-Large
11.3kg (24.86lbs)
53

NUKEPROOF
SCOUT 290 RACE
Price:
From:
£1,099.00
Nukeproof, nukeproof.com
Nukeproof. For those with a few more laps around the sun
under their belt, that name will always be associated with trick
hyper-light hubs made from carbon fibre and aluminium. The
Michigan-based brand enjoyed significant commercial success
during the mountain bike boom of the ’90s, though like
many other niche component brands at the time, Nukeproof
suffered the same fate when the bubble burst not long after.
After it was bought by Chain Reaction Cycles, the
Nukeproof brand was reinvigorated and relaunched in 2007,
first with titanium shock springs, then 800mm wide riser bars
that were relatively uncommon at the time. That range has
expanded significantly over the past decade to now include
pedals, stems, dropper posts and complete wheelsets – all built
tough and priced reasonably too.
Nukeproof still makes all of that stuff, but these days it’s
earning more recognition for complete bikes, most notably
the Mega – one of the original enduro race bikes to hit the
mass market. And thanks to UK mountain biking legend
Nigel Page and a rather fast bloke by the name of Sam Hill,
Nukeproof’s reputation in the downhill and enduro race
scenes has blossomed over the past decade.
As well as the Mega, the brand’s growing bike range now
includes downhill bikes, cyclocross bikes, and hardtails. The
Scout is Nukeproof’s ‘do it all’ hardtail. Like the Mega, the
Scout is available in both 27.5in and 29in versions, both of
which are built around chunky alloy frames and heavy-duty
components.
The Scout 290 (290 = 29in wheels) is available in two
different build options: the Race (£1,099), and the Comp
(£1,599). Each model is available in four sizes from Small
through to X-Large, and you can also buy it as a frame-only
for £349.
The Bike
The immediate impression you get from looking at the Scout
290 Race is that this bike is ready to take a punishing. Using
large-profile hydroformed T6 6061 alloy tubes that are
welded together with the addition of flares and braces, the
Scout is a tough-looking rig. A fat tapered headtube, big boxsection
stays and stocky dropouts indicate that weight and
compliance has taken a backseat, while brute strength rides
shotgun. Combined with the heavily sloping top tube and
short seat tube, the Scout certainly won’t feel out of place sat
atop the run-in at the dirt jumps.
To match the brawniness of the frame, Nukeproof has
specced the Scout with solid WTB SX23 rims that are built
with a full complement of 32 spokes and brass nipples per
wheel in a 3x lacing pattern. Nice and easy to replace a spoke
when you bust one after casing a landing. The rims come
pre-taped for tubeless setup, and the Maxxis EXO tyres are
tubeless ready, so all you’ll need is a pair of tubeless valves and
some sealant to drop 400g of mass out of the wheels off the
bat.
Whereas the Scout 275 is designed for 140mm travel
forks, the Scout 290 uses a 130mm travel fork. In the case of
the Race model, it’s a Manitou Minute that comes colourmatched
to the frame. It’s air adjustable with external rebound
and compression dials via the Absolute Plus damper, and it
uses a 15mm tooled axle.
Geometry on the Scout 290 Race is as progressive as it
gets for a hardtail knocking on the £1k door. Drawing from
the alpine-capable Mega, the Scout uses a similarly slack 66°
head angle to keep the steering steady when pointing the bike
down very steep things. The bottom bracket also sits nicely
low at 65mm below the hub axle line, so watch out for those
pedal-catching moments when spinning through narrow rock
gullies.
Elsewhere the numbers are more modest. The reach isn’t
massively long at 420mm on our Medium test bike (440mm
Large, 455mm XL), and the 73° seat tube angle is pretty
relaxed. Likewise, the chainstays sit at a middling 440mm
length.
The rest of the Scout 290 frame has been designed to
be as versatile as possible to reduce headaches when it comes
time for upgrades or repairs. The frame is front derailleur
compatible, and there’s the option to fit a chain device via the
ISCG 05 tabs. The bottom bracket is the good ol’ threaded
type, and Nukeproof has kept all cabling external, except for
the option of running a stealth dropper post.
Our test bike arrived at Singletrack Towers already set up
tubeless, dropping its complete weight to 12.7kg (27.94 lbs).
54

The stock Manitou Minute forks were a touch out of their
comfort zone on the more technical trails.
A solid frame design with a threaded BB and ISCG Tabs.
55

56

The Ride
With the shortest reach on test, the Scout feels a touch
cramped if you’re used to nouveau enduro bikes. On the
flipside, the upright riding position is comfortable and gives
the Scout a more manageable feel for lifting up the front end
– ideal for new riders or those who are making the transition
from old-school 26in bikes.
Thanks to the stubby seat tube though, it’s easy to size up
if you must have more reach. And at 175cm tall, I could easily
ride a Large and still have gobs of standover clearance.
The cockpit itself is good, with the 760mm riser bars
feeling spot on. The SRAM shifter offers positive action, but
doesn’t mate well with the Shimano brake lever. The paddles
end up too far away for my little thumbs, and flipping the
shifter inboard puts the brake lever waaay out of reach. It isn’t
a huge deal, but more adjustability would be nice.
We did have issues with the rear thru-axle perpetually
loosening throughout testing, and no amount of excessive
force was enough to get it to stay put, so keep an eye on that.
The curved seat tube also limits how far you can slam the
saddle down, so a hacksaw may be required to reappropriate
the seatpost. I eventually caved in and fitted a dropper post
halfway through the test period, which made a world of
difference for getting the most out of the bike.
With sag set at 30%, the fork delivers a supple feel
that’s impressive at this price point. However, even with the
rebound set to the slowest position, return speed is still too
quick, with an audible ‘clunk’ as the fork extends to full travel,
emulating a loose-headset feel.
Once on the trail, the Minute fork performs well under
regular trail scenarios, though as speed and gradient increases,
it becomes apparent that the fork chassis just isn’t stiff enough.
Torsional stiffness is alright, but front-to-back it suffers from
excessive flex due to lanky 32mm stanchions. Hit the front
brake, and the Minute feels like a string of al dente pasta,
tucking hard underneath the frame. It results in a vague
feeling to the steering on rocky descents, and one that is at
odds with the otherwise solid chassis.
We experimented by fitting a set of Fox 34s, and the
difference was night and day. The Scout had more control,
more steering precision and far greater composure under
heavy braking and when approaching rollable features.
The frame itself gives you the impression that it’ll survive
WWIII. Being so stiff, the alloy tubing delivers feedback
straight through the pedals and grips, so you’ll know exactly
what’s going on underneath each tyre – for good or bad.
The high volume 29er tyres do well to absorb smaller trail
debris though, and the versatile Maxxis treads deliver a good
combo that’ll handle mixed conditions. There’s oodles of mud
clearance, and room for up to 2.5in tyres.
Like other slack 29er hardtails, the Scout builds
momentum the moment the trail turns downwards. It’s a
surprisingly stable ride for a bike at this price point, with
the big wheels rolling efficiently over rough terrain, giving
you an edge over smaller-wheeled bikes the nastier the trail
surface becomes. It also handles technical climbs surprisingly
well, and while its weight means it’s more of a plugger than a
sprinter, the snappy frame responds well under power.
Cornering is good, though the longer back-end and
weighty wheelset does require a more vigorous approach on
tight singletrack. Riding on overgrown natural trails with
lots of surprise corners had me working the Scout hard to
make each turn. When visibility improves, it’s much easier to
prepare for each corner and get the wheels where you need
them. Conversely, the Scout’s steady nature gives it great
confidence when bombing at speed, with the low BB and long
wheelbase offering loads of hard-charging stability.
Overall
The Scout 290 Race is a durable and well-built hardtail that
that is well-specced for the price. The frame is upgrade ready,
and it provides a solid starting point for new riders looking to
build skills and increase confidence.
However, it’s so capable at gaining speed that the frame
quickly outdoes the flexy Manitou forks and soft resin-padonly
Shimano brakes, which just aren’t equipped to deal with
the rapid and violent impacts that the bike is so ready to take
on. If you’ve got the budget, then step up to the Scout 290
Comp, where you’ll not only get a dropper seatpost, you’ll also
get the excellent Yari fork too – two upgrades that the capable
Scout 290 frame is gagging for.
Frame
Fork
Hubs
Rims
Tyres
Chainset
Rear Mech
Shifter
Custom Hydroformed T6 6061 Alloy
Manitou Minute Comp, 130mm Travel
Novatec Alloy Disc, 100x15mm F &
142x12mm R
WTB SX23, Tubeless Ready
Maxxis High Roller II EXO 2.3in F
Maxxis Minion DHF EXO 2.3in R
SRAM NX 30T X-Sync
SRAM NX 11-Speed
SRAM NX 11-Speed
Cassette
Brakes
Stem
Bars
Seatpost
Saddle
Size Tested
Sizes Available
Weight
SRAM PG-1130, 11-42T, 11-Speed
Shimano M447, 180mm F & R
Nukeproof Warhead Alloy, 50mm Long
Nukeproof Warhead Alloy, 760mm Wide,
20mm Rise
Nukeproof Warhead, 31.6mm Diameter
Nukeproof Trail
Medium
Small, Medium, Large, X-Large
12.7kg (27.94 lbs)
57

TRILLION CYCLES
PRIME
Price:
From:
£1,349.00 (frame only)
Trillion Cycles, trillion.com
Of the three brands on test, Trillion Cycles is by far the
youngest. Having formed this time last year, Trillion only
officially launched to the public in early 2017 at the London
Bike Show – seemingly coming out of nowhere. But as it
turns out, there’s some pretty big investment going on behind
this new name.
Trillion is owned by industrial mega-company the Liberty
House Group, which specialises in producing steel and
aluminium, while also working in metals recycling. Owner
Sanjeev Gupta has made himself known in the UK thanks to
a number of key purchases of declining smelting mills around
the country, with the immediate goal of retaining local jobs
and a long-term goal of repurposing those mills into metal
recycling plants fuelled by renewable energy. In addition
to his ambitious commodities projects and desire to bring
manufacturing back to the UK, Gupta launched the Trillion
brand as an homage to his father – an Indian steel tycoon who
originally founded Victor Bicycles. However, Gupta is keen to
assert that Trillion isn’t a vanity project, but rather a conscious
move to kick-start bicycle mass production in the UK – a
country that was once home to the biggest bike manufacturers
in the world.
That’s some pretty big visionary stuff, and Trillion is still
very much in its infancy right now. To begin with, Trillion is
launching with a small, but focused range of bikes, including
this one called the Prime.
Currently in the prototype phase with the finer details
still being ironed out, the Prime is a UK-made steel hardtail
designed for a 160mm travel fork. It’ll be available both as a
frame only, or as a complete bike with full builds expected to
start at £3k. Custom-build kits are also available, and the final
product is then sold and shipped direct to consumer.
The Bike
The double-diamond Prime frame is made up of a collection
of large diameter steel tubes from Reynolds and Columbus,
with a 44mm headtube up front and a sharply sloping top
tube that takes a pleasingly straight line down the seatstays to
the rear dropouts.
There are some nice details on the Prime frame, including
a proper metal headtube badge, and a subtle British flag
graphic on the seat tube that indicates the frame’s origins.
All cables run externally under the downtube, captured by
tidy bolt-on clamps. The dropper post cable is the only one
that runs internally, and it’s only for a small length inside
the seat tube. Other nods towards practicality include the
73mm threaded bottom bracket and the addition of ISCG 05
chainguide tabs for those who want to make use of them.
Rear dropouts are 148mm wide, and they use a sliding
design with integrated tensioners. This allows you to tune
chainstay length between 430mm–450mm, and also offers
an easy conversion to singlespeed. However, according to
Trillion, it also means the Prime can accommodate either
27.5in or 29in wheels, with max tyre clearance rated at 2.6in
for both wheel diameters. To match the frame and its wheel
size compatibility, Trillion has fitted a RockShox Yari 29er
fork with 160mm of travel.
With Trillion listing the Prime as “Designed for 29er,
compatible with 27.5”, the frame geometry has been set
around running 29in wheels. That’s resulted in a 65° head
angle, a 74° seat angle, and a 44mm bottom bracket drop.
There will be three sizes available in the Prime, with Trillion
claiming that’ll suit riders from as short as 5ft 6in up to 6ft
3in. However, the company has also hinted that custom frame
geometry may be an option in the future.
Our test bike came set up with Mavic XA Elite 27.5in
wheels and 2.4in wide tyres, and quite a high-end build kit
that would set you back £4,599 for the whole bike. Decked
out with Hope brakes and headset along with a SRAM X01
Eagle 1x12 drivetrain, the complete Prime weighs in at an
impressive 12.13kg.
Being a prototype frame, the Prime we’ve been testing is
somewhat rough around the edges. The paint is patchy, and
the welds aren’t exactly what you’d call exquisite. The seat
tube is slightly oversized, resulting in the seatpost twisting
even with the seat clamp tightened up to spec. The dropouts
also require heavy spreading to fit and remove the rear wheel
from the frame. Apparently this issue was caused by heat
deformation on early prototypes from welding without the
correct jig on hand. The splayed dropouts have also robbed
available chainstay clearance with the drive-side crank arm,
resulting in an annoying knock on every revolution.
58

Rockshox is in charge of suspension on the Prime, with Trillion opting for
the 29er Yari, for extra stiffness and wheel size compatibility.
Trillion turns on the style with this arty seatstay bracing.
59

60

Trillion has informed us that all these issues have since
been resolved with later prototypes, and that there are
substantial changes due for production models, so we set all of
that aside and got on with testing the Prime to see how it rode
on the trail.
The Ride
Following Trillion’s sizing advice, I tested the M/L frame size
based on my 175cm height. With its sloping top tube and
short seat tube, I was able to fully appreciate all 170mm of
travel on the Reverb dropper post – unusual for a rider of my
height. With the saddle slammed out of the way, it becomes
so much easier to move around the frame for cornering and
descending, and I’ve since struggled going back to anything
with less than 150mm of drop.
With the longest fork on test, the Prime feels big the
moment you board. Due to the external headset and 160mm
29er fork, the Prime has a substantial stack height of 634mm,
putting the grips up quite high – about 50mm higher off the
ground than the grips on the Nukeproof. Reach is decent,
with the M/L frame measuring in at 448mm (422mm for the
S/M and 470mm on the L/XL sizes). To quicken up steering,
Trillion has built each frame size around a compact 33–35mm
stem length.
All told, with the uber-stiff 780mm wide Renthal
handlebar and 27.5in wheels fitted, the Prime feels big and
bold. It has a very stable and sure-footed feel that makes
an over-the-bars excursion feel very unlikely. The Yari forks
complement that feel, with the bulky chassis and smooth
action keeping the front wheel tracking true.
With the Prime being wheel-size ambidextrous, I subbed
in 29in wheels to see how the bike would handle. Immediately
apparent was the increase in BB height, which lifted 1.5cm
to sit 33cm off the ground. I also had to pull the dropouts
rearwards to accommodate the larger diameter wheel. With
this set-up the Prime felt calmer overall, and I had no issues
with pedalling through deep blown-out ruts thanks to the
extra ground clearance. However, the whole bike just felt a
little too cumbersome for my liking.
To remedy this, I left the 29er up front and put the
27.5in wheel back into the rear. This dropped the BB
height back down, shortened the chainstays to 430mm, and
slackened off the head angle a touch to 64.5°.
Once back on the trail, the Prime felt the best it had
throughout testing. It’s still too tall at the front, it doesn’t
climb particularly well, and you really need to boss the bike
about to make the tighter corners, but it’s very solid. Commit
to the Prime’s ‘tip and dip’ cornering style, and it’ll sling in
and out of high-speed corners well. And as your confidence
(and speed) increases, the wheels begin to skip over the top
of the chatter, which feeds into further acceleration to let you
really pinball downhill.
However, like other big forked hardtails, the 160mm of
travel up front can lead you into a false sense of security. So be
prepared to handle your way out of some dicey trail situations.
The head angle also effectively steepens as you sag through the
travel, and I’m not totally convinced the Prime needs such a
big fork. Retaining the slack head angle but running a shorter
130–140mm travel fork would help to preserve the Prime’s
dynamic geometry at speed, while also lowering the overall
ride height too.
While I’m making suggestions, the arty brace on the back
of the seatstay looks neat, but it is both a mud collector and a
physical barrier for running a shorter chainstay length.
Overall
Being a prototype frame, there’s only so many conclusions we
can make about the Prime’s performance. There’s no doubt
that it’s a burly and capable steel hardtail, but I’d like to see
further refinements to the frame and geometry. The bike sits
tall at the front, and it isn’t immediately intuitive to ride. And
while the wheel size flexibility is nice, the Prime chassis does
feel somewhat compromised to afford such allowances.
However, there have been enough moments of brilliance
on the trail where the capable Prime has demolished sections
with far greater speed than a hardtail should, that we’re excited
to see what changes are to come for the production versions.
We’re also big fans of the UK-manufacturing ethos and the
company’s bold plans, and if Trillion is indeed heading where
it says it is, this will be a name to watch.
Frame
Fork
Hubs
Rims
Tyres
Chainset
Rear Mech
Shifter
Reynolds 853 & Colombus Zona Steel
RockShox Yari RC 29, 160mm Travel
Mavic XA Elite, 100x15mm F & 148x12mm R
Mavic XA Elite 27.5, Hookless, UST Tubeless
Mavic Quest Pro UST 2.4in Front & Rear
SRAM X01 Eagle 32T
SRAM X01 Eagle 12-Speed
SRAM X01 Eagle 12-Speed
Cassette
Brakes
Stem
Bars
Seatpost
Saddle
Size Tested
Sizes Available
Weight
SRAM XG-1295 Eagle, 10–50T, 12-Speed
Hope Race Evo E4, 180mm F & 160mm R
Renthal Apex 35, 33mm Long
Renthal Fatbar Carbon 35, 780mm Wide
RockShox Reverb Stealth, 170mm Travel
Fabric Scoop Flat
M/L
S/M, M/L, L/XL
12.13 kg (26.86 lbs)
61

VERDICT
In a marketing landscape that’s dominated by pricey carbon
fibre wunder-bikes and hyper-long geometry sleds, the
humble hardtail regularly misses out on a lot of the media
attention. Which is a shame really, because we like hardtails.
As we’ve rediscovered during this group test, today’s hardtail is
far, far more capable than those that have preceded it.
Modern technologies have certainly taken the hardtail’s
performance a long way. Bigger wheels, fatter tyres, dropper
posts, and stiffer forks have all played their part. But without
doubt, it’s the new-school frame geometry that has upped the
ride quality stakes and enhanced the speed capabilities of each
one of these bikes we’ve tested.
Whether you’re looking to get into the sport for the first
time, or you’re after that N+1 bike to accompany you through
a wet and muddy winter season, or you just want the fastest
and most responsive bike you can get for cutting up snaky
singletrack, chances are that there’s a hardtail here that’ll
answer your needs.
Made right here in the UK and from every diehard
mountain biker’s favourite material, steel, the Trillion Prime
ticks all the right boxes for a hardcore hardtail. It’s slack,
can fit semi-chubby rubber, and comes equipped with a
cartoonishly long travel fork that will have downhill riders
eyeing it up as a potential winter silly bike. Being a prototype,
however, our test bike was far from perfect, and there’s some
refining required both on the finish and on the geometry
before the Prime is ready for its time in the spotlight.
Nukeproof originally wanted to get us the higher-end
Scout 290 Comp model, but, due to availability, we ended
up testing the cheaper Race spec. Despite a twisty fork and
soft brakes, the £1,099 Nukeproof Scout impressed all testers
with its composed attitude and surprisingly stable descending
manners. It’s the perfect example of how far entry-level
hardtails have come, with its tough frame, slack geometry and
grippy rubber possessing masses of capability that’ll allow your
skills and confidence to grow with it. It’s a terrific beginner’s
bike with loads of upgrade potential.
On the other side of the price spectrum, the Kona Honzo
CR Trail DL is no cheap proposition. There are certainly bikes
with a better spec list than this for the same money, and some
of those bikes have rear suspension too. Price aside though,
the Honzo is just pure and simple wickedly fun. It corners
on a penny, it blasts downhill way too fast, and rides with
a gung-ho attitude that I have never experienced with any
other carbon hardtail. Sure it’s lightweight and race-capable
for all but the most elite World Cup level athletes, but it’s the
Honzo’s responsive handling and on-trail feedback that makes
it so addictive to ride.
62
This feature was created in association with Innsbruck Tourismus, which enabled us to shoot
this Bike Test on location in Innsbruck, on the Nordkette Singletrail and at Bikepark Innsbruck.
For more information, visit: innsbruck.info and bikepark-innsbruck.com
Check out singletrackworld.com for our follow-up travel feature.

63

ENDURO BAG
“To finish first, you must first finish.”
- Rick Mears.
WORDS & PHOTOGRAPHY CHIPPS
KIT BAG IS OUR CHANCE TO HAVE A NOSY INSIDE THE BAGS CARRIED BY RIDERS FROM
DIFFERENT BRANCHES OF THE MOUNTAIN BIKE TREE. EACH BAG HAS BEEN REFINED OVER
THE YEARS BY ITS OWNER – ADDING BITS WHEN THEY’RE NEEDED, CHUCKING STUFF OUT
THAT’S JUST ADDING WEIGHT AND BULK UNTIL, HOPEFULLY, THE RIDER ENDS UP WITH THE
PERFECT COMBINATION OF USEFULNESS AND PORTABILITY FOR THEIR PARTICULAR NEEDS.
THIS ISSUE WE LOOK AT THE INCREDIBLY COMPREHENSIVE SET-UP THAT
TRACY MOSELEY TAKES WITH HER TO EVERY ENDURO RACE SHE DOES.
Enduro racers just carry a tube, a CO2 and a multitool,
right? Not if you’re Tracy Moseley. She likes to be prepared
for absolutely any eventuality, especially if she’s going to be
out on the hill for a 60km race day over several hours. And
while her bike is meticulously maintained by her husband
and mechanic James, things can and do go wrong. And if
you’re fighting for every point in a season-long campaign
like the Enduro World Series, then a broken bike that can’t
be fixed trailside can put an end to a year of hard work. In
fact, at the final race of Tracy’s EWS overall victory in 2015,
she carried a whole spare Di2 rear derailleur, such was the
pressure to finish with a working bike and get in the points.
We got Tracy to unpack her bag immediately after she’d
just won the 2017 TweedLove International and these are
the unedited contents of the bag she raced with, down to
the 250g of nuts and apricots she forgot she’d packed.
While much of this stuff is rarely needed by Tracy,
it’s preparedness like this that helped her win three
consecutive years of the Enduro World Series. And the pits
at TweedLove were full of stories of other riders Tracy has
helped to get going again when they’d been stuck trackside
in previous events.
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KIT BAG
1. Osprey Zealot Bag
Not used for carrying
water in races (there’s
a bottle cage on her
bike). Just used for
carrying all of the
following…
2. Tool roll in dry bag.
Contains: (bagged)
brake pads, split links,
lube, a COMPLETE
SET of Trek frame
pivots. Spare mech
hanger and dedicated
Trek hanger-setting
tool. Di2 cable junction
tool.
3. Additional Tools
Knipex Pliers Wrench
tool, preloaded
tubeless plug tool (in a
section of garden hose
for safety and ease of
deployment), taped
to CO2 and regulator.
Multitool, Swiss Army
knife, zip ties.
4. Fuel
Gels, cereal bars, fruit.
And a 250g bag of nuts
and apricots Tracy had
forgotten to eat on the
way round.
5. Spares
Spare gloves, Buff,
clear glasses and
tinted glasses (wear
one, carry one pair).
Lip balm.
6. Essentials
Phone in a ziplock bag,
pump with Gorilla Tape
wrapped round, First
Aid kit.
7. Covering all
eventualities
Two inner tubes. Very
light waterproof jacket.
8. And everything else
Survival blanket,
toothpaste tubes for
tyre booting, tyre
levers, (loads) more
tubeless plugs and
spare tool, knife blade
for plug trimming,
Dynaplug tubeless
plug, spare CO2 and
spare regulator, digital
tyre gauge.
7.
1.
5.
8.
6.
2.
4.
3.
65

66

CLASSIC RIDE
ULSTER
SAYS YES!
Ian from Rock and Ride Outdoors shows us
round his home trails in Northern Ireland.
WORDS IAN BAILEY PHOTOGRAPHY CAOLAN HAWKINS
Loosely tracking a section of the Ulster Way, this classic ride
skirts the foothills of the Mourne Mountains while linking
sections of sumptuous forest singletrack. All done in the
shadow of Slieve Donard, Northern Ireland’s highest peak.
Summer can be a bit of an abstract concept up here
in Northern Ireland, a land not exactly renowned for its
temperate climate. All we know is that at some unspecified
point between March and October the slop will temporarily
subside and for a fleeting moment we’ll smell dust in our
nostrils and hear the buzz of tyres on dry roots. Those joyous
occasions remind us that we have way more than our share of
top-class trails, handily compressed into a tiny geographical
area, particularly in the locality of the Mourne Mountains,
County Down. Inevitably, mountain biking has flourished
here, despite the weather, with several local trail centres
developed and a plethora of hidden woodland trails tended by
a dedicated selection of local builders.
67

Bright coloured photo-gimp avengers, assemble!
Now obviously I’m exaggerating the meteorological woes,
but we definitely have a sharp appreciation of the good
times, spurring us into action to grasp the clear days with
both hands, occasionally defying all sensibility and, on this
particular occasion, considered medical advice…
An unseasonal spell has recently scorched the Mournes,
the evocative smell of burning heather hanging in the air,
pasty white limbs unveiled and social media feeds crammed
with exaggerated descriptions of riding exploits. Nursing
recently acquired injuries and awaiting surgery on a mangled
thumb and torn shoulder respectively, my friend Eddie and
I have jealously observed the fun unfolding, tortured by
the knowledge that we may be witnessing our only shot at
summer pass by without us. With the forecast due to turn
imminently and the trails at their most prime, an idea was
born that could only be considered by grown men who really
should know better. It was time to ‘test’ the injuries – after all,
surely we couldn’t make them much worse and what doesn’t
kill you…
Choose your crew.
Choice of riding crew is key for such foolhardy exploits and
we knew fellow professional mountain bike guide Andrew
could be counted on to carry all the requisite tools, antiinflammatories
and chocolate needed to keep us rolling.
Another friend, Chris, would be joining us halfway, but
afflicted with a proper job he was unable to bunk off as early
as plans dictated. To document the efforts, we conscripted
Caolan, Eddie’s son and media student, himself celebrating his
last day in full-time education [Doesn’t sound very full-time
– Ed].
68

69

Bright enough for any weather.
70

Plenty o’green here in Ireland. That’s for sure.
Spirits were high as we convened in the small car park at the
wonderfully named Happy Valley, with a ‘schoolboys on the
skive’ vibe and a hazy heat in the air. Caolan fretted over
the diminishing blue skies and the ensuing impact on photo
quality, but cheered himself by messing around with camera
gear while we tentatively picked our way over the stile and on
to the crumbling turf.
Landscape shots in the bag, we commenced the ride
proper, contouring round the base of Meelmore mountain on
a techy, off-camber trail that split into multiple lines round
boulders and dried bogs. As part of the fully signposted
‘Mourne Way’ section of the epic 625-mile Ulster Way
route, a more defined path could be expected, but smaller
populations mean that even our honeypots are often quiet,
and we encountered nobody as we tracked the wall around the
hillside into the next valley.
Mourne granite is internationally renowned for its quality
and our classic ride would take advantage of several historical
quarry tracks, the first of which led us down the Trassey
Valley with spectacular views of the High Mournes at our
backs. Terrain here is a treacherous mix of loose marbles and
babies’ heads and the jolting direction changes caused shots
of pain in a shoulder joint I was protecting with a stiff overemphasis
on my remaining good arm. Nevertheless, us crocks
were delighted to be riding again and pleasantly surprised at
our progress, half expecting to have packed in before even
reaching this point.
A speedy downhill scoot saw us depart the open
mountain and enter Tollymore Forest, passing the King’s
Grave, an ancient burial site that was one of several local
spots to feature in Game of Thrones, responsible for initiating
a spate of hit TV series and Hollywood blockbusters being
filmed here in the forest. A right turn at Maria’s Bridge
and a punchy fire road climb awoke the lungs before the
tantalisingly technical rise on to the New Park hilltop. This
ascent is a favoured test-piece, usually tortuous and greasy, on
this day the elaborate criss-cross of roots had grip to burn and
all four of us emerged dab-free for a quick stop to admire the
split granite summit tors of the aptly named Slieve Bearnagh,
Irish for ‘mountain of the gap’.
This section of the forest is alive with luscious deep greens
as the springy moss creeps up the surrounding trunks with
numerous strips of brown stretching enticingly between.
Selecting one, we dived down in, flowing over the rolling
ground, shafts of daylight breaking through the branches,
creating shadows on the rocky features.
This is quintessential woodland singletrack, the kind
that adorns magazine covers and leaves you itching to
ride whenever glanced at. Feeling truly fortunate to live in
proximity to this dream terrain, our ailments were temporarily
forgotten, no jarring hits on this smooth ribbon to break the
trance, and smiles were beaming as we spat back out on to the
fire road.
Hill of Death, er, of bitey death.
Happy conversation masked the pain and monotony of the
locally monikered ‘hill of death’ and we paused at the summit
for pictures and a breather.
71

Illustration by
BEATE KUBITZ
72

A short descent east and a left fork led to Curraghard
viewpoint, where jagged stone chairs provided us with a seated
view over Newcastle town to the coast beyond. At this point
you can observe the rest of the route stretching round the
coastline with a first decent view of the rounded summit of
Slieve Donard, at 853m, Northern Ireland’s most elevated
point, high up on the right.
The drop from here has bite, a steep entry line funnelling
into numerous rock drops and tight twists, spiky bushes
and trees on hand to punish wayward lines. The other lads
afforded it little respect, but I was extremely careful – pain
of pride far overridden by real twinges as I watched them
tear out of sight. Briefly revisiting the main track, we then
ducked into a hole on the right where a change in foliage
type and a needle-floored delight took us to the crossing
point of the figure of eight route. Following the Mourne Way
signposts down a grassy section, we ultimately joined the road
at Tullybrannigan – clearly the very affluent end of town.
Spinning down through Tipperary Wood towards Donard car
park, food was at the forefront of our minds and coffee and
scones were hoovered as we awaited Chris’ arrival from the
comfort of Niki’s cafe.
In his defence, I had warned him to be brightly attired
for the cameras but we were shocked and amused by the giant
jelly baby that emerged from the van. None too subtle ribbing
completed, we ascended again into Donard Forest, opting
for a tricky short cut alongside the Glen River, rather than
the winding forestry access track. This next section was cause
for genuine trepidation as the grassed trail up to Drinneevar
quarry has gained infamy as the site of several recent buzzard
attacks resulting in hospitalisations, temporary closures and
even the rerouting of a well-established fell race. A warning
sign and a pile of pigeon feathers served as a stark reminder
that the danger is very real and a comedy of style commenced.
Steep trails of this ilk are hard enough on which to maintain
traction and forward motion, but doing so while craning your
head backwards and scanning the sky is a near impossibility.
We all eventually succumbed to the inevitable and pushed the
last 50m, gathered together for safety in numbers and hoping
our loud conversation wouldn’t pique the interest of the
lurking raptor.
Raptor-free.
Departing the quarry trail and heading over the shoulder,
we were treated to another expansive view of mountain and
coast. I can think of few places where such pronounced hills
are in this proximity to the sea; it really is a sight to behold,
even through the increasing late-afternoon haze. Remarking
that the gorse has really grown up since last at this spot, we
were treated to a demonstration of instant karma befalling
Eddie. This open mountain trail is almost trials-like in
nature, allowing slow speed proximity riding and the luxury
of conversation. Eddie was regaling us with the tale of his
girlfriend falling into a gorse bush while he just stood and
laughed when the rightful inevitability occurred.
Hunting down that sweet bluebell trail.
73

Mmmm Guinness.
We didn’t bother concealing our mirth and it was a while
before we fished him out to lick his wounds and remove the
prickles from his damaged hand.
Carrying gingerly on we reached the top of the Granite
Trail, another quarry access where bogey rails once carried
the quartz-rich stone directly down to the harbour below.
Up the hill, another quarry, more spectacular views, and
an impromptu photo shoot on the dusty drop from the
viewpoint plinth filled the next half hour before the promise
of the next trail grew irresistible and we spurted back into
the trees. Yet another picture-perfect line of crafted drops,
gravelly corners and pine needle goodness preceded the
draggy ascent to Drinnahilly, the obvious peak topped by the
telecommunications mast. From here, numerous lines convene
near the Shepherd’s Cottage where a stream-hugging delight
of a singletrack led us ultimately back to the outskirts of town.
We spun gently up the alarmingly steep road climb back
over the cross of the eight, conserving energy for the return
through Tollymore Forest. Slightly weary, but homeward
bound, we’d saved enough in the tank to attack the sharp drop
to the river and the twisting bank-edge cross-country loop to
Ivy Bridge. From here, route choice is largely irrelevant and
it was the possibility of some arty bluebell pics that saw us
ascending again, more than strictly necessary, before dropping
back to the water at Parnell’s Bridge. All continuing routes
here ultimately lead back up-valley and with light fading and
the pinch of skipped meals becoming increasingly insistent
we cut up to the main road past the striking architecture of
Tollymore National Outdoor Centre before a quick blast back
to the start.
It’s often hard to truly appreciate what you’ve got on your
doorstep. An enforced layoff and the fondness of absence are
‘First person to spot the sea wins!’
a powerful combination and, despite the obvious stupidity of
this folly, neither Eddie nor I had any regrets. This ride was
an ill-advised cracker that we not only survived, we massively
enjoyed – thanks to world-class trails and amazing company.
As an added bonus, the next morning I had about 10° more
movement in my shoulder – a few more of these and that op
will be cancelled!
Why Bother?
The Mourne Mountains and surrounding forests are a
mountain biking paradise. Within less than half an hour of
Newcastle are several well-developed areas, full of semi-natural
flowing singletrack, as well as two really enjoyable trail centres
at Castlewellan and Rostrevor. This ride is a great combination
of open hillside and glorious woodland, but even within
this there are tons of variations and with a modicum of map
ability and a small sense of adventure you’ll discover a neverending
array of intertwined tracks.
Unlike some regions, you’re never far from assistance, and
although the serenity will make you feel miles from anywhere,
there is none of the associated danger of proper wilderness.
Trails are generally quiet and the local riders are extremely
friendly. While there isn’t a pile of big mountain riding, there
is a constant and spectacular backdrop to the miles of forest
trails and more than enough to create a great trip in a new
location.
Newcastle is a tourist town with all accommodation
options from hostel to posh hotel and a broad range of eating
and drinking choices. There’s plenty to do if you want to bring
the family and the Mournes are a great spot for a range of
other outdoor activities. Of course, the Guinness tastes better
and the craic is endless to be sure…
74

75

CROWN COPYRIGHT
The Knowledge
Total Distance: 21.97 miles (35.35km)
Elevation Gain: 4,030ft (1,228m)
Maps
Mournes 1:25,000 in various guises.
Getting There
If you’re based in Scotland, Wales or the North of England,
the ferry is a viable option with various routes into Belfast (30
miles), Dublin (85 miles) or even Rosslare (197 miles) if you
want to explore Ireland from the south up. If not, fly and hire
is easy, to either of the Belfast airports or Dublin just down
the motorway. The roads are quiet as soon as you leave the
main population centres and driving is stress free.
Eating and Drinking
This route deliberately drops as low as Donard Park for Niki’s
Kitchen Café or McCann’s bar, which has a beer garden, both
of which are basically within the car park and allow you to
keep bikes in sight and close at hand. This area gets extremely
busy on any sunny day during the summer holidays or at
weekends. There are plenty of other cafés, restaurants and bars
in the town if you’re staying over.
www.hughmccanns.com
www.nikiskitchencafe.co.uk
Bike Shops
Mourne Cycles on the Castlewellan Road about half a mile
outside Newcastle town have anything you’ll need including a
well-stocked workshop. Closed Thursdays and Sundays.
T: 028 4372 7272
A: Unit 7 63A, Castlewellan Road, Newcastle, BT33 0JX
Accommodation
Newcastle has plenty, as do other towns on the far side of the
Mournes. Thanks to the popular trail centre, nearby Rostrevor
has several bike friendly/specific options. All budgets can
easily be suited.
Finding Trails and Bike Hire
These are working forests and the trail layout changes along
with storm damage and felling work. Local guiding services
can help you maximise your visit by leading you to the best
trails for your ability level while coaching you to improve.
Bike hire is available on request.
www.rockandrideoutdoors.com
Other Info
Make a proper holiday of it. Visit Belfast and Dublin, head to
the stunning North Coast, see the Ring of Kerry, Connemara,
Galway, Wicklow Mountains, Donegal… the list goes on and
on. Ireland is a superb place with so much to see and do. I
loved it so much I moved here! The incredible riding has just
been the icing on the cake.
76

77

78

The blacK FueL
ODDBALL
WORDS & PHOTOGRAPHY CRAYONS
Last issue, Chipps filled his crystal tumbler and took us
through five of his top armchair whiskies. This time we look
to Rob Crayons and his pick of coffees for fuelling our rides.
Coffee isn’t just a hot beverage needed to prise one’s eyes open
in the morning – there’s a whole world of flavours and aromas
that can be extracted from each roast, blend or single origin.
Whether it be that first coffee of the day, a mid-ride stop
to break out the flask, or a reward for the end of hard ride,
having a brew at some point during a riding day (or any day)
is a necessity.
Crayons (as a self-proclaimed office coffee snob) shows
us his top picks and preferred brew methods, to give you that
perfect hit of caffeine while out riding, or sitting on your sofa
at home. Prepare your taste buds, slam on the kettle, and dive
into this caffeine-packed selection of trail fuel.
Northern Espresso
V5
Break Fluid
Ethiopian Kayon Mountain
COFFEEKult
Athiopien Sidamo
Sandows of London
Cold Brew
Northern Espresso is the
signature blend of The
Barista who roast their own
coffee in Leeds, and is a
great place to start this hotticket
list. The word ‘blend’
is used to describe a coffee
that is made up of multiple
elements. Built on a base
coffee, a blend typically uses
an additional one or two
elements to add fruitiness,
acidity and character to the
brew. V5 is split 60/40 with
Costa Rican and Columbian
coffees delivering notes of
raspberry and green apple,
with a baker’s chocolate
base. Brewed using a V60
filter, V5 has offered superconsistent
taste throughout
testing. It’s a belter.
Re-establishing the more
tenuous link to mountain
biking, Break Fluid was set
up by two adventure-seeking
friends, Chris and Ant. Both
mad for two-wheeled action,
these chaps came together
to create a coffee brand for
coffee drinkers, and Break
Fluid was born. This is one
of their single-origin coffees
– the sweet, fruity and
mega-distinctive Ethiopian.
This coffee is a great for
those sleepy mornings
with its notes of blueberry,
papaya and cream. Perfect
preparation before setting
out for a day on the bike.
While on a recent trip to
Innsbruck, we had to get our
hands on some COFFEEkult
goodness. Based in that
bustling Austrian city,
COFFEEkult has a range
of roasts, blends and
single origins to try, and
this Ethiopian is a supertasty
example. Roasted for
espresso and filter, we’ve
been tasting it brewed
through an AeroPress
and the results have been
delicious. This is a heartwarming,
bold coffee to have
in a flask for those nippy, or
early morning rides.
Unlike the rest of the coffees
in my hit list, this little bottle
of joy is best served ice-cold.
Based in London, Sandows
brew and bottle all coffee
on site. Brewed overnight,
cold brew is made with fresh
coffee and filtered water.
By brewing slowly, without
the use of heat, the process
extracts minimal acidity to
give you a clean, smooth
and more flavoursome
end product. It may be an
indulgence, but one that
can be kept in the fridge
until after that long, sweaty
summer ride, ready to be
enjoyed over ice or with a
drop of milk.
79

KEITH
BONTRAGER
“Strong, light, cheap – pick two.”
Mountain bike pioneer,
product designer, agitator.
WORDS CHIPPS PHOTOGRAPHY CHIPPS & STEVE BEHR
Keith Bontrager has been a bike industry name since the
earliest days of the sport. While not a great self-publicist,
his thoughts on bike design have nevertheless had a
great influence on mountain biking over the last three
decades. It’s been 15 years since we last interviewed him
in Singletrack and so we reckoned it was time to see what
had changed. We despatched Chipps to Keith’s house
in Santa Cruz to quiz Keith and to have a particularly
good chicken molé and pulled pork tortilla lunch.
Keith has always been merciless in pointing out the
emperor’s new clothes and has never taken anything at face
value. If someone says that a particular tyre size rolls quicker
or corners better, Keith will ask for proof or he’ll go and
create his own experiments to prove or disprove the theory.
It’s the same with interviews and journalists. If
you’re asking the same dull questions as everyone
else, then you’ll quickly know about it as he’ll tell you
that you are. And even when we think we’re being
clever, he’ll quickly bring you back to earth.
80

INTERVIEW
81

Keith, we were talking about the continual pursuit of increasingly niche bits
of the mountain bike world. Is this because we’re running out of new ideas?
Or is there still room for innovation in the bicycle world?
It depends on what you consider ‘new
ideas’ and innovation. I get asked this
kind of question in every interview
I do. My response (in an interview
with another UK mag about ten years
ago) was that the improvements in
mountain bikes would not be in big
new ideas. It would be in refining and
perfecting the bikes we already have. I
think that’s still pretty close to right.
We’ve become convinced that
everything we use should be replaced
with the new and improved model
on a regular basis. Like cell phones.
But it’s not simple to improve bikes
continuously. They are not silicon
chips – they do not behave according
to Moore’s Law. Improving a
mechanical device becomes increasingly
expensive and complex as the design
approaches an optimal state, and
the incremental improvements in
performance get smaller and smaller.
Luckily the bicycle world operates
according to the rules of fashion (as
do most retail industries). The rules
of fashion offer a simple solution
– it’s about change. Change can be
innovative, but it doesn’t have to be. It
can also loop back on itself whenever
it has to. The clothing industry is a
simple example of how long that sort
of thing can go on and how weird it
can get. There is plenty to be done as
long as we are all willing to play along.
Playing along has been kinda fun,
of course. For decades cross-country
racing drove innovation and fashion.
Hardtails ruled. Light was right.
Climbing was what mattered. (This
wasn’t actually that much fun for a lot
of people who didn’t think climbing
was so awesome.) Then cross-country
wheel diameters got a lot bigger,
which didn’t change much but looked
different. Those eventually caught on
when carbon came along and the bikes
could be made light enough. Light
was still right. Then trail bikes with
6in+ travel took over. Light mattered
less. Big air was cool, especially when
it was someone else in a video.
Then the wheels on those got a
little bigger, or a lot bigger, which led
to a massive flushing – every one of
the original and still very functional
hardtails with smaller wheels was
sold off or given away by every
serious cyclist who still had one.
Then we decided really fat tyres
were cool. Handling in bumps was
goofy, like playing billiards with a circus
elephant. Weight and speed didn’t really
matter any more either. We could ride
on snow (sometimes). Then less fat
tyres were cool. Circus elephant light?
Cross-country instincts creeping back
in? Then, just to show that we still had
some racer in us, we decided that riding
skinny tyres on gravel was the thing.
And the skinny tyres are getting fatter
again (because riding skinny tyres fast
on gravel is incredibly hard to do). As
long as you are driven by curiosity and
have a fairly big budget to satisfy that
curiosity this all makes a lot of sense.
Having said that, e-MTBs and
e-bikes is a new category that is
going to change a lot of things. The
idea of a battery powered or assisted
bicycle is not really new. But the idea
of using the pedals as a throttle is a
novel complexity as far as I can tell.
These bikes have the benefit of being
on the coat-tails of developments
in motors, batteries and storage for
other industries. They depend on that
technology in fact. (This isn’t unique –
mountain bike frame development was
based on exotic frame materials during
the commercialisation of the defence
industry in the ’80s. Remember metal
matrix composites and beryllium?) The
niches for these bikes are still being
defined, expanded and sliced up at a
very rapid rate. They are already the
hottest thing in the bike biz. The biggest
developments are still in the pipeline.
82

83

It’s 15 years since we last interviewed
you. Looking back, there were
many new things being touted – like
tubeless tyres, full suspension and
even complete wheelsets. Has the
march of progress carried on as you
expected, or has the commercial
success of some things caught you by
surprise?
There have been some surprises,
but none that really stand out. It is
important to me personally to be able to
service a bike myself in my garage with
simple hand tools and readily accessible
spares. I thought the practicality of a
bicycle would be a higher priority for
riders, but that’s going away. Electronic
integration in control systems and
proprietary hardware elsewhere is
pushing bikes in the direction of cars
and other consumer goods. In some
respects that’s not too surprising I guess.
While you’re not in the public eye very
much, you’re still very busy behind
the scenes for Trek and the Bontrager
brand that was originally yours. What
have you been up to in recent years?
It’s a long story… My partner Julie
was badly injured in London in
October 2015. She lost her leg when
she was run over by a Tesco HGV. I’ve
been supporting her since, helping
with everything I can. It’s been a full
time thing, and very challenging.
Things are going fairly well now.
We’ve moved back to California and
she is making good progress. I’ve
been working out the technicalities
required to get her riding again.
Dropper posts, magnetic pedals,
trimmed saddles – I’ve been able to
use lots of tricks that I know a bit
about. We’ve been out on a tandem
regularly (road and mountain bike)
and she just started riding a mountain
bike on her own again the other day.
Trek has been very supportive. They’ve
even helped pay for some of the
prosthetics she needs, which is over
and above by any standards. I am very
lucky to be part of that company.
Has the durability of the Bontrager
name surprised you? Or don’t you
even notice it any more?
It has to some extent I guess. I tried
to resist doing the things that would
have squandered the brand reputation
early on and kept up a push for high
technical standards. We didn’t always
manage it, but we did pretty well. In
the end it turned out to be a pretty
solid foundation for the brand.
Do you think that the media focus
on enduro as a discipline been a
positive thing for the development
of the mountain bike? While it’s a
competitive version of ‘the riding we
all do anyway’, it isn’t really – as not
many of us actually go flat out on
near downhill courses on 160mm full
suspension bikes. But is it the nearest
we’ve got to commercialising ‘normal
riding’?
The media focus is on trendy things that
look good in images in order to have
a place for the ads that go in between.
It always has been. Readers (and/or
viewers) don’t have to actually do the
things they see riders in the images
doing to consume the media. I enjoyed
seeing pictures of whippet cross-country
stars flying up mountains, though I was
never going to keep up with Frischi or
Ned on a climb. And I enjoy seeing
pictures of Rachel Atherton bombing
down a mountain, though I will never
do that myself. If enough people are
willing to buy (or click on) the media to
attract ads it will work. If not, it won’t.
Is your riding experience still valid?
After all, you’re a 60-something-yearold,
designing mountain bike (and
other) parts for 20-year-olds... who’s
to say that you know what the kids
want out of a product?
I’m not sure it matters. My riding skill
set isn’t very different than it has always
been. I am adequately speedy on a bike
in a wide variety of circumstances,
and I can get to the trails year-round
from my back door. I am able to
report on the things I experience in
tangible, accurate physical terms.
There will always be value in that.
With regards to being 62, I can
ride about as fast as I could 20 years ago
according to my Three Peaks Cyclocross
times. It’s weird, but I don’t really feel
that different. Julie and I go to the gym
and work out three times a week and
we are putting in lots of miles on a
tandem now too, road and off road. I
don’t feel slow and the rides I’ve done
with local shop folks indicate I can still
bring it on the local singletrack. (If
you doubt that, stop off for a ride…)
Having said that, most of what I
do involves keeping the tyres on the
ground. I don’t do much jumping
and haven’t for a long time. I got that
out of my system on motorcycles
long ago and a mistake will (not
‘might’) lead to the sort of injury
that could bring it all to a stop.
Also, I am not sure about your
claim about who we are selling bikes
to/designing bikes for. It seems to
me that the folks riding are definitely
spread over a wide age range. And
I don’t know too many 20-yearolds
who have enough discretionary
cash for a high-end mountain bike,
though I am sure they are around.
What three things can a regular
mountain biker do to improve their
riding enjoyment?
Get fit.
Get fitter.
Get even fitter.
84

He’s allowed to be off-brand here. Trek doesn’t make tandems.
That told us. OK, then let’s try ‘What’s
the most important upgrade that a
rider can do to their bike?’
If you ever get a dinner invite from K.B…Go!
I think the wheels on many new
bikes are under specced. That’s
understandable. There’s so much
money spent on the frame, suspension
and drivetrain that the wheels are a
place where a little can be saved. For
the most part that’s fine, as long as
the tyres are good and the rims are
wide enough. But there is quite a bit
of room for improvement too. I am
not recommending any particular
brand for the upgrade of course…
85

86

Many people who meet Keith for the first time find
him to be quiet but intense, and it’s easy to mistake his
introverted personality for standoffishness. Get to know
him, though, and you uncover a dry sense of humour and
a wicked wit to match the flash of his gold tooth.
Keith has never been one to waste resources or to buy
new products for the sake of them. He used to do all of his
shopping in the Santa Cruz charity shops, until the used
clothes market discovered just how many quality items were
being dropped off by spring-cleaning dot-commers and
started funnelling them to more upmarket locations. I’ve
still never, ever, seen Keith in anything resembling a suit.
His home cooking and his kitchen garden are
rightly famous. And if you ever get the chance of a
meal, or a chat about recipes, you should take it.
You must have made a fair amount of
cash over the years. What have you
done with it all? This scruffy gardener
look and modest house isn’t fooling
anyone…
You’ve found me out. The garden and
farmhouse are obviously just a facade.
I have a very nice villa in Monaco,
several massive offshore accounts,
a yacht in the harbour and three
vintage Porsches in a garage around
the corner. I will not release my tax
returns either so don’t bother asking…
I’ve been very lucky. I work
for a great company and have been
paid generously enough to put three
daughters through college, to help fund
Julie’s prosthetics and rehabilitation,
and to have a place for us to live in
the most amazing town in California.
I hope to have enough left over in
my golden years to keep this going.
I live the way I want to live. I prefer
to make or grow or find the things I
need, rather than buying them. I like to
invent things and to improve things so I
have a workshop. I like doing things for
myself and others, to share whatever I
can whenever I can. I like to work hard
every day and to stay healthy. I am not
fond of [phone and computer] screens
and have very little interest in keeping
up with pop culture. It’s a pretty simple
life. It doesn’t take a lot of cash.
Carbon frames aren’t really that
recyclable, are they? What happens in
a few years when our carbon frames
either wear out or, more likely, just
aren’t on-trend any more? At least old
steel and alloy frames had the good
grace to break, or get turned into town
bikes if not... Can mountain bikers
take any credit for saving the earth?
Or are we just as bad as everyone
else?
On average we’re just as bad as everyone
else and always have been. There is
nothing inherently green or earth
friendly about riding mountain bikes.
I suppose you could say it’s better than
riding an off-road motorcycle, but
that’s a straw man. The sport started
off with greenish spirit and there are
still hippies among us. But that was
an artefact of the NorCal culture that
started things and was never very
serious. Transport and commuting
are the green(er) side of cycling.
Bike frames and parts made
from CFRP (carbon fibre reinforced
polymer) are hard to recycle at the
moment, though it is possible. That
will change soon though. Car and
aircraft manufacturers are using a lot
more composites and are working out
ways to recycle the materials they are
using. As far as I know carmakers in
the EU are required to make cars out of
materials that can be (largely) recycled.
Eventually that will make it easier for
everyone to dispose of a carbon part
without it ending up in a landfill.
On the other hand, I don’t
think carbon bikes are leading to an
environmental catastrophe at this point.
They last a long time (mechanically
speaking), so it will take a lot longer
to wear one out. A significant, and
forgotten, aspect of conservation is to
make good, durable things that last a
long time and don’t require recycling.
Carbon stuff is expensive too so there
aren’t that many of them in use yet.
The bikes that fall out of fashion
but are still rideable are sold on to
poverty-stricken 20 year olds, right?
Also, I am not sure “having the
good grace to break” is an advantage
of things made with aluminium or
steel. I’ve been fortunate and have
managed to wobble to a stop when
I was blessed with a broken (but
recyclable!) bike. Not everyone has been.
87

And finally, Keith, you made your name with pioneering steel mountain bike
frames in the 1980s and ’90s. Were those Bontrager OR frames really that
good? Or were you constrained by design, material or financial restraints at
the time? If you had to revisit the steel frame now, do you think you could do a
better job. We’ll assume that ‘modern’ geometry is a given…
They were that good.
If I made a steel frame now I would
make it with a different steerer tube size
and take advantage of a few modern
developments in tube forming. But
the bike wouldn’t be that different.
I would definitely NOT change
the geometry I used before. ‘Modern
geometry’ is a trend, not progress. There
are differences in the way a modern bike
and a bike made with shorter, steeper
angles handle. Each has its strong
points and its weaknesses. It would
not be an improvement for the sort of
riding I would do on a steel hardtail.
Keith might not have been making headlines like he was in the
1990s with his pioneering mountain bike designs, or when the
company sold to Trek in 1995, but that doesn’t mean he’s not
been busy. While other component designers are proud to show
off their latest carbon creations, Mr Bontrager’s ‘function first’
philosophy finds him testing the company’s bottom-of-the-range
components with the same focus that the whizz-bang bits get.
After all, an entry-level stem is going to sell hundreds
of thousands more units than any carbon one and
an error at that level would be catastrophic.
And, while you’ll see his name on all of those components
out there, Keith will mostly be at home in Santa Cruz,
tending the garden, getting on with quietly putting the
miles in and asking difficult questions of people who should
know better. And we’ll count ourselves in that number.
88

89

90

ADVENTURE
SIMPLy
tHE quest
Barney heads off to Shropshire to try
to answer a question which has been
bugging him – why are there so many
good riders from such a quiet county?
WORDS & PHOTOGRAPHY BARNEY MARSH
Quests are nebulous things. The definition is suitably vague
– “the search for something”, but it’s fair to say that journeys
are involved. An uncovering. And perhaps, if you’re very
lucky, a big reveal. I’d not go so far as to require an epiphany,
but something hiding in plain sight that suddenly becomes
obvious? That’ll do nicely. I fancied a good quest. I fancied
sallying forth to uncover some age-old secret or two. Perhaps
I could amass a motley crew of latter-day knights with whom
I could gallivant around the countryside, righting wrongs
and rescuing people from peril? Or, perhaps it might be more
accurate to replace the word ‘people’ with ‘beer’. And the
word ‘peril’ with ‘fridges’.
It had long niggled me that I knew so little of Shropshire.
I’d ridden the Long Mynd, sure – and a wonderful thing it
is too – but I’d always skirted over the county’s other charms
en route to more conspicuous trails in either North or South
Wales. But gradually it dawned on me that Shropshire seemed
to be rather over-blessed with good riders. Very, very good
riders. People like Helen Mortimer, Marc Beaumont, Neil
Donoghue, Andrew Titley, Neil Halcrow – and there are
plenty more.
This seems odd, considering it’s not blessed with huge
mountains or an overabundance of people – in fact, it’s one
of the least populous counties in England. So what is it about
Shropshire that breeds competence on a mountain bike? A
need to investigate rammed its way into my brain like an
overlarge pimento into a particularly dense olive. A quest!
91

Hangover remedy: A single dose of speed, once daily.
Descenders Assemble!
Jim Burley is an old mate, a bike mechanic’s bike mechanic,
comedian, artist, musician and bon viveur. He also happens
to be a consummate rider of many years standing, and a born
Salopian (someone from Shropshire) who’s recently moved
back to his homeland. In fact, the perfect guide. And Jim then
introduced me to Simon Pearson, successful businessman,
unfeasibly competent guitarist and a former downhill
champion who also clearly knows a thing or two about riding
a bike.
We decided that the thing to do would be to ride a few of
the best-loved trails in the area, and try to work out precisely
what it is that puts steam in Shropshire rider’s strides.
Morning has broken…
The cross-country flavoured appeal of our first ride, Clee Hill,
would’ve perhaps been better managed without the sort of
decadence the previous evening provided. People in their 40s
really should know better, but my inner 19-year-old shouts
more loudly than the rest of me – especially after a couple
(ahem) of Babychams.
Steve Chapman from Ludlow-based Islabikes has kindly
offered to meet up with us to show us some of his favourite
trails in and around Clee Hill. Steve is lithe and fit looking,
alert of eye and bushy of beard, and he’s sporting a very fine
looking singlespeed hardtail rig. Pretty much all of this is in
stark contrast to the rest of us, who are feeling the effects of
some profound 2am over-indulgence in booze and guitars.
My enfeebled limbs won’t help, either – my personal mantra
excluding as it does such words as ‘training’. And ‘diet’. Oh
dear.
So Steve leads Jim, Simon and me swiftly upwards and
we grind past disused quarries that would give steampunk
aficionados conniptions, with disturbing golf-ball shaped
radar installations glinting ominously in the distance.
Any upward misery is nicely counterpointed though by
the following gravity-enhanced hurtlings. On every climb
Simon and Jim manfully try to keep Gazelleboy Steve in sight
while I doggedly bring up the rear, and every descent is a
chance to catch my breath and stuff my lungs back down into
my chest. Yes, the descending is glorious; it’s hugely exposed
in places, enclosed in others, rocky trails alternating with
grass and mud mean it’s somewhat demanding in technique
and riding those hills back up again mean the place is pretty
demanding in fitness.
But as fun as it is, there’s plenty of stuff like this elsewhere
in the country. There has to be more to the birth of Salopian
prodigies than challenging loops such as these. And so indeed
it proves. Onward, knights! To Hopton!
92

93

A Hopton, a skip and a jump.
Hopton Woods is touted by the Forestry Commission as the
“home of mountain biking in Shropshire”. Intriguing. And
there is loads of riding on offer – from relaxing blue trails up
to tortuous blacks, from whimpering-ascent cross-country
loops to arse-puckering downhill runs, all in one convenient
package. And our hangovers are wearing off – result! Steve
doesn’t seem to be flagging, disappointingly, and he’s still
raring to go. I have consumed a lagoon of coffee, so I’m also
raring to go and off to pee behind bushes every five minutes.
Hopton is a lovely ungroomed place. There’s a car park at
the trailhead, and that’s pretty much it. We’re just playing here
really; exploring the area, searching out interesting-looking
bits and pieces, pushing back to ride stuff again for the
camera, and it’s loads of fun. It’s easy to see why a place like
this would help to foster local talent. There are some hugely
rewarding and natural-feeling things to ride, and they’re rather
techy in places, too – you want rooty drops into tight corners?
Yup. Lightning fast blats through ever-tightening trees with
sneaky lines to get a little airtime? No problem. It’s all here.
And again, I’m struck by how much fun I’m having. It’s
taken a little time to get here from Clee Hill, sure, but there’s
a superabundance of awesome in just this one relatively small
area of woodland. No, there are no huge mountains, but here
at least care has been taken to wring out as much as possible
from each metre of trail.
It’s clear that many of these trails have been around for a
while. Could the existence over time of centres such as these
suggest an answer to our quest? All these places to ride – it’s
natural that folks would end up as pretty handy riders, isn’t
it? The two places we’ve been so far, coupled with the huge
edifice (literal and metaphorical) that is the Long Mynd,
might suggest so, but let’s look at one more place. Let’s go to
Eastridge.
In the Eastridge, astounding trails begin, yeah?
(Sung to the tune of In the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia
– tenuous I know, but what the hell. If that doesn’t set off a
subtle earworm, I don’t know what will.)
[Aside – In the spirit of full disclosure, I’ll admit that
I rode Eastridge on another weekend with Jim and Simon.
Equally hungover, mind you. You think I’d learn.]
Jim, Simon and I now find ourselves at the car park at
Eastridge, for a last foray into one of the famous places that
Shropshire mountain bikers call ‘local’. Eastridge is home
to yet more downhill tracks, the odd enduro race, and some
fantastically entertaining ‘regular’ trails. My oh my, this stuff
is good.
Heat and foxgloves.
We start with a mellow enough tree-lined climb, before
things get truly brutal on a long, newly exposed zigzag
(called Goliath apparently) and everyone begins to melt as
the thermometer on this sunniest of days creeps relentlessly
towards 30°C. The descents are, as expected, wonderful. Deep
trails in thick woodland; each hip and lip seemingly designed
to complement your riding – I can gracefully arc from corner
to corner, pushing my weight just so to line up for the next
one. Descents lead to crests which scrub off just enough speed
to fall perfectly into technical sections. Fantastic.
Again, the trails have the look of ribbons carved over
time by riding, rather than laboriously maintained sections of
trail. There’s a strong sense that you’re 14 years old, playing
in woods, and it’s only over the next rise that some older
kids have built some jumps you’re going to take your Grifter
over. There’s an air of comfortable isolation, and the whiff of
infinite summer holidays. You could just ride here forever.
I wish I could.
Ah, a dormant land submarine.
94

95

Essential fuel for any aspiring quest seeker.
Pedalling into the blue.
The landlocked island.
Ignored by motorways, and one of the least populous areas in
England, there is a feeling of glorious isolation to Shropshire.
Of quiet, benevolent claustrophobia. Once you’re nestled
within the bosom of all those rolling hills, it’s easy to feel that
you’re a million miles away from anywhere else – and perhaps
this is ingrained in the local populace. Simon tells me that in
his youth everyone was obsessed with anything two-wheeled.
The big kids would all mess about with motorbikes – an
activity they’d all learned from their elders – and everyone
would rush outside when they heard the braaaap of a twostroke
engine cutting through the countryside. And Jim’s dad
is restoring an old grasstrack racer in his shed – two wheels
and dirt seem to be part of the local psyche. It’s no wonder
there are so many great places to ride: the riders appeared first
and made them, which makes new and better riders. It’s a
glorious spiral.
In Shropshire, mountain biking found a collective psyche
perhaps more attuned to its delights than elsewhere. And with
plenty of remote, hilly places to ride, it’s no wonder there
are so many good riders. If you ride bikes in Shropshire, it’s
almost hard not to be.
This feature is dedicated to Simon ‘Peanut’ Pearson (1969-2017) -
damn good friend, husband, father, nutter, general enthusiast about
everything, bon-viveur and demon blues guitarist. RIP, buddy.
96

97

HI-TECH
RUBBER
James Vincent and the Singletrack
Rubber Crew have been testing a range
of new tyres and picked their top
recommendations for you.
WORDS & PHOTOGRAPHY JAMES VINCENT
As a mountain biker, the chances are that you fall into one of two
camps – you’re either a habitual tyre swapper, changing rubber and
checking pressures on an almost daily basis to suit trail conditions,
or you buy a set that just works and leave them on until they fall
apart (or tan walls go out of fashion again).
The problem with this second approach is that, unlike in some
parts of the world that are blessed with actual seasons that hang
around for more than a day, here in the UK we’re lucky if we get
more than a few hours of consistent weather. And if it does last, the
trails can take so long to dry out that they’ll just be coming good
when it’ll start to rain again, flipping conditions on their head and
rendering our tyres suboptimal. While this most definitely keeps
things interesting from a riding perspective, it also asks one heck of
a lot from our tyres, especially if you just want to focus on riding
and having a good time, rather than faffing about with tubeless
sealant and compressors on a regular basis.
And so this test was born. What we’ve got here are ten highend
trail tyres with a wide range of casings, compounds and
technologies, all designed to work in the mixed conditions of UK
riding. To keep things consistent we limited the test to 27.5in wheel
size, 2.3in–2.4in width, tubeless-ready tyres – all ideally suited to
trail bikes. Ranging in price from £35 to £70, these are tyres you’ll
want to upgrade to. They are, on the whole, versatile and tough,
although some will excel in the wet, and some work better in the
dry. We’re not necessarily looking for the lightest or the fastest,
but the best all-round tyres that you don’t have to constantly swap
around for different trail conditions.
They’ve been tested to destruction in the Lake District, on a
mix of steep technical climbs, wild rocky descents and fresh-cut offpiste
loam, raced in the Tweed Valley and shredded for weeks in the
Alps. We’ve dragged them up fire roads, slid them down wet rocky
slabs, and spent more time checking pressures and squeezing side
knobs than is healthy.
If you rarely leave the hardpack of a fire road or trail centre then
these tyres are probably overkill. But if you venture off-piste, into
the more varied natural trails that the UK has to offer, or even the
big mountains of Scotland and further afield, then read on.
98

GROUP TEST
99

STEP INSIDE MY LAB
Tyred and Tested!
Even to a self-confessed tyre geek, the array of acronyms,
abbreviations and hieroglyphics on tyre sidewalls can be
downright baffling: TR, TCS, TRSR, Addix, 60 vs 120TPI,
40a, 42a or 60a, Dual compound, 3C and so on.
Fortunately, it’s all pretty straightforward when
broken down and there are three main factors to take into
consideration when looking for a tyre – the casing, the
compound, and the tread pattern.
Casing
The casing is ultimately what holds the tyre together. A tightly
woven fabric wraps around the bead and overlaps under the
tread. A higher thread count (TPI) makes for more densely
woven casing that makes the tyre more supple, but ultimately
how thick the casing is will determine how durable the tyre is
overall. Most trail tyres use a single or 1.5 ply casing, downhill
tyres are dual ply, and in some extreme cases (pun only mildly
intended), manufacturers spec triple ply tyres for maximum
protection against rock strikes. Most manufacturers also offer
additional layers of sidewall protection on some models, to
prevent both pinch punctures and slashes to the sidewalls
from passing rocks, and these are usually strategically placed to
provide maximum protection for minimal weight gain. As for
tubeless compatibility, all the tyres on test claim to be tubeless
ready (meaning they’re designed to work with the addition of
sealant), but they went up with various degrees of difficulty.
Some popped up onto the rim with ease, while others refused
to play ball even after resorting to putting a tube in.
The Compound
Typically measured in Shore A (a), from 0a to 90a, with 0
being the softest and 90 the hardest, most mountain bike tyres
fall in the range of 40a (super-soft downhill and mud tyres) to
60a (more all-round use). A softer compound will give more
grip, but will wear faster and be draggier on the climbs and
tarmac, while harder compounds last longer and roll faster,
but are less grippy, especially in the wet. Manufacturers are
constantly striving for the holy grail of a tyre that has loads
of grip, but doesn’t drag or wear too quickly. They look to
achieve this by fine-tuning the balance of ingredients in the
compound, or by using different compounds in different
places of the tyre – you’ll commonly find a harder compound
on high wear areas (the centre of the tyre) paired with a softer
compound on areas where maximum grip is needed (the
edges), and some manufacturers go as far as to use a triple
compound construction. By using a super-firm compound at
the base, and softer rubber elsewhere in the tread, they’re able
to make the tyre less prone to squirming about under load,
than with a softer dual compound tyre.
The Tread Pattern
Bigger, chunkier knobs are a good thing right? Wrong! Well,
not always… Bigger knobs do a great job of digging down
into mud and loose dirt but they can be skittish on harder
surfaces as the rubber folds under itself and gives way, leading
to a loss of grip just when you need it most. Likewise, smaller
knobs are great on harder surfaces and roll faster on tarmac
and fire roads, but clog up quicker and lose traction when
things get loose. You also need to strike a balance between
traction for pedalling, braking traction, and directional
grip for cornering, and that’s without taking into account
personal preference and riding style. Rounder tread profiles
can build confidence in some riders as there is a less noticeable
transition from the centre blocks to the cornering edges, while
others prefer having a squarer profile with a definite transition
onto the cornering edges of the tyre and really love the feeling
of those edges hooking up into the ground.
So which tyres should you buy? Well, it’s really a matter of
how and where you ride. All the tyres on test shone in some
areas and less so in others, so it’s a question of deciding which
factors are most important to you and striking that balance.
100

101

102
The tough casing on the TRSr tyres proved durable and stable at lower pressures.

BEST WINTER TYRE
e*thirteen
TRSr
Price:
From:
£59.95 each
Silverfish, silverfish-uk.com
Joining e*thirteen’s ever-expanding product line-up last
year, the e*thirteen TRSr is intended to slot in between
lightweight cross-country tyres and super-burly downhill
tyres – in the words of Goldilocks, not too hot and not too
cold, but juuuust right. Or to put it another way, a regular
trail tyre for everyday use. That might be doing these tyres
a slight disservice though, as they’ve performed brilliantly
throughout the test and are more than ‘just right’. Available
in 27.5in and 29in options, with folding bead, reinforced
sidewalls, reinforced pinch flat zones and enduro casing, they
tip the scales at 918g (27.5in, 900g quoted) and are designed
to pop up tubeless with just a track pump and a scoop of
sealant. True to their word they went up without needing a
compressor on every rim we tried, every time. Available in
two compounds (Race or Plus), we’ve been riding the softer,
grippier, Race compound which is made up of 70a rubber at
the base, 42a in the centre, and a 40a for the side knobs.
Given how soft the tyres feel under the thumbnail,
they rolled along really well, and were only a bit draggy on
long road sections. Once up to speed and onto the fun stuff
though, that drag wasn’t noticeable, and the payoff was that
they provided ample grip for climbing, especially when faced
with things like slanted wet rock or rooty madness sections.
If outright climbing traction isn’t required, you might want
to consider either the harder compound TRS+, or a modern
semi-slick such as the Maxxis Minion SS.
The sidewalls felt really supportive and I often found
myself running less pressure than I thought – sometimes as
low as 22/24 psi front/rear, with very little tyre body roll,
while on rockier Lakeland descents we upped the pressures
slightly. Even if you go fast enough to drift, the traction is
super-reliable except on very loose marbley surfaces, where we
have yet to find a tyre that works perfectly.
With a carefully shaped and siped tread pattern
reminiscent of a Magic Mary, they offer great grip in mud and
slop too, with lots of clearance, and the rubber was soft and
edgy enough to keep things under control for braking when
the going got loose.
On the first off-road descent of the first ride on the tyre,
we managed to put a hole in the rear that needed two tubeless
plugs to seal. However, after that, it has been puncture and
trouble free for over a year, even hitting long rocky Lakeland
descents where we could feel the tyres bottoming out and
carbon rims impacting on the ground below.
As such, the pair of tyres on test has done a hard week of
descending in the Pyrenees, many rides around Calderdale,
trips to Peebles, and finally they’ve ended up here in the Lakes.
They’ve not been ridden every day as they’ve been on a
‘weekends and trips’ bike, but we reckon they’ve done a good
few hundred miles. While the rear is worn, they are looking
surprisingly good for their age, and for the amount of riding
time we’ve put into them in relation to the level of grip they
return, the wear has been excellent and as they’ve worn the
performance hasn’t fallen away as dramatically as it has with
other tyres on test.
Overall
There is no denying that at £59.95, they’re at the upper-mid
end of the price spectrum, but we’ve really got on well with
these tyres, If you think of them as track day tyres for your
sports car, it’s well worth getting a pair for racing and Alps
trips and maybe use something else for day-to-day riding.
103

BEST SUMMER TYRE
MICHELIN
WILD ROCK’R GUM X 2.35IN
Price:
From:
£46.99 (Softer Magi’X compound is £56.99) each
Hotlines, hotlines-uk.com
Designed with input from legendary French downhiller
turned enduro racer, Fabien Barel, the Michelin Wild
Rock’R2 is a solidly built tyre for riding hard in dry, rocky
conditions. Two versions are available – a softer Magi’X
compound, and the ones we have here, with a harder Gum’X
compound that weigh in at just over 1kg. With reinforced
and sturdy sidewalls, the tyres are a tight fit, but once on
they easily went up first time on a variety of rims (DT Swiss
EX471, Spank OOZY 345 and Mavic Quest XA Pro Carbon)
using just a tubeless pump and we didn’t suffer any air loss or
burp the sidewalls at all during the test.
The flat-topped centre knobs give a narrow contact patch
with the ground, which goes some way to reducing rolling
resistance. But there is no denying the fact that they’re a
pretty slow tyre. Then again, the Michelins are unashamedly
all about riding the descents as hard as possible, and the extra
drag isn’t an issue at all once up to speed and having fun, and
is a small price to pay for better grip and the reassurance of a
more durable tyre. The tyres offer great climbing traction on
most surfaces, and the only place we ran out of traction was
on smooth rock steps where we found them quite slippery
under power. However, this was an incredibly steep and
technical climb that was really testing the limits of both the
tyres and the other riders around us too.
Once you’ve reached the top, you’ll be grateful you
dragged the Wild Rock’R2 all that way. With its nice big
side knobs and beefy casing, you’ve got a tyre that just loves
cornering hard – we were able to really crank the bike over to
some pretty extreme lean angles in the turns, and when it did
eventually slide out, it did so in such a controlled fashion that
we were able to hold drifts with ease. At times we thought
they were almost too grippy, as we couldn’t feel the tyre slide
at all and were left wondering when it was all going to go
wrong. On more than one occasion we were convinced we
were going to crash and got ready to bail, only for the tyres to
dig in and pull us back upright before racing on to the next
corner. If you find yourself having to brake mid-corner, then
the Wild Rock’R2 copes admirably, and gets you slowed down
without any fuss.
On smoother rocky surfaces (think well polished steps)
they slid about a tiny bit, but as soon as the rock was more
natural and had a rougher texture the grip levels returned to
normal. At this point, it’s worth remembering that we only
had the harder compound tyres on test – if you need even
more grip and control, it would be worth trying the Magi’X
compound on the front.
Even though they are billed as a dry condition tyre, we
had no problems with them in the mud, slop, and over roots
or off camber trails – the huge side knobs do a great job of
guiding you down all but the steepest and gnarliest trails. On
such super-steep trails (think Grisedale Forest off-piste and
the wilder trails found in the Tweed Valley), they don’t clear
brilliantly, and braking in a straight line is uncontrolled as the
flat centre knobs just don’t dig in enough.
In a moment of pure bad luck, we managed to put a
screw through the rear tyre on one road section, and we put
a hole in the front tyre on another occasion, but we were
running crazy low pressures (sub 20 psi) when it happened.
Both of these issues were easily fixed with tyre anchovies and
have been running absolutely fine for the remainder of the
test, and the tyres aren’t showing very much tread wear at all.
Overall
Michelin has done a really great job with these tyres.
Compared to this tester’s favourite front tyre (Schwalbe Magic
Mary), the Michelin Wild Rock’R2s roll faster, corner better
and have more grip on roots. They don’t brake quite as well
in the damp or on the steeps, but this is really splitting hairs.
We’re impressed.
104

You wouldn’t run the Wild Rock’R in muddy conditions,
but in the dry, this tyre rails hard.
105

106
At 1150g, the Hutchinson Toro is the heaviest tyre on test.
It was also indestructable.

MOST DURABLE
HUTCHINSON
TORO HARDSKIN 2X66
Price:
From:
£54.99
Windwave, windwave.co.uk
Featuring a dual ply 66tpi casing, huge volume, and massive,
widely spaced, square-edged knobs, the Hutchinson Toros
look like the sort of tyre a child would come up with if asked
to draw a mountain bike. An absolute monster of a tyre,
these are the heaviest on test at 1,150g (1,080g claimed). By
comparison, the lightest tyres here (Vee Crown Gem) are
a featherweight 750g, and putting the two side by side, it’s
obvious where that extra weight has gone. The Toros went up
very easily tubeless on both Spank OOZY 345 and Mavic XA
Pro Carbon wheels without needing a compressor and the
nice beefy sidewalls didn’t leak a drop of sealant throughout
the test. One thing that pleasantly surprised us was just how
much rubber there was directly under the tread – reinforced
sidewalls can take a lot of the limelight when it comes to
preventing pinches and flats on tubeless tyres, leaving the area
under the tread feeling a bit anaemic by comparison, but this
wasn’t the case on the Toros.
While the tyres are marked as directional we couldn’t spot
a great deal of difference in the tread pattern, but to be on
the safe side we ran them as specified. A much more rounded
profile tyre compared to a High Roller II, they definitely
reward better technique – there is much less braking control
once leant over on the side knobs, but get all your slowing
down done on the centre knobs and you’ll be laughing.
Initially we were a bit unsure about the staggered edge knobs
and whether they would give consistent cornering, but we
needn’t have worried and they were particularly brilliant on
soft, loamy trails, changing direction quickly when darting
between trees. On wet, greasy rock, the Toros struggled a
little, where a softer compound tyre such as a Magic Mary
Super Soft would have been welcome, but then the Toros are
faster rolling than those so it’s swings and roundabouts.
They climbed well in all conditions, with an excellent
tread for use on the rear in all conditions – they really dig
in and you can rely on it not to slip out at inopportune
moments, although as the heaviest tyres on test they were a bit
draggy on longer fire road climbs, and if your riding doesn’t
warrant such a burly tyre it might be worth looking at lighter
options.
We really liked the higher volume for their quoted size,
which meant we could get away with lower pressures to
increase grip, and with a surprisingly thick casing directly
under the tread they stood up exceptionally well to everything
we could throw at them. On one of the fastest and rockiest
trails in the Lakes with 24/28 psi front and rear, and fingers
nowhere near the brakes, I could clearly hear the rims
impacting on the rocks, but the tyre stayed intact. The casing
has certainly taken some hits, including the Enduro National
Championships, and in spite of some scarring on the sidewalls
we have no complaints about the durability of these tyres.
Overall
These tyres won’t suit everyone because of their rounded tread
profile, and there’s no getting away from the fact that they
weigh a heck of a lot, but if you’re fed up of destroying tyres
and just want to get on with riding, these could be ideal. The
higher volume and extra thick rubber under the tread, means
that we were unable to damage the tyres (and believe me we
tried), and the balance of wear vs grip was great too.
107

BEST ALL ROUNDER
MAXXIS
HIGH ROLLER II EXO 3C
Price:
From:
£64.99
Maxxis, maxxis.co.uk
A stone-cold classic of the modern era, the Maxxis High
Roller II has a solid reputation as a go-to tyre for most
conditions, offering a great balance of grip, control, braking,
and rolling resistance. Weighing in at 906g (pretty much
bang on the claimed weight of 915g), the tyres feature a 60tpi
tubeless ready EXO casing and folding Kevlar bead, with
three progressively softer rubber compounds making up the
tread. There’s a harder 70a compound at the base, 50a in the
centre for traction and braking, and a soft 42a compound
on the edges for enhanced cornering grip. The aggressive and
square tread is a subtle but effective revision of the old High
Roller (a classic in its own right) – carefully shaped and siped
centre knobs give way to big chunky side knobs designed to
offer exceptional cornering traction in looser conditions and a
smoother transition onto the tyre shoulder than the original.
Cornering on the front is amazing when leant over
onto that edge, especially in looser and sloppier conditions,
and it only got squirrely when combined with steep upright
braking or cornering. Otherwise it holds its line well, and
that edge is great when you’re on it. If you don’t lean the tyre
over assertively while riding on harder trail surfaces, there is
the risk it’ll just go straight instead of making the turn. Push
the tyre down onto those cornering blocks, however, and the
High Roller II hooks in well. Braking control on the front was
good, only giving up in steep slop when most tyres that aren’t
a dedicated mud spike would struggle.
As a rear tyre it’s fantastic, offering lots of grip, while
the good tread pattern claws up and over most surfaces
without causing too much drag. What drag there is becomes
only really noticeable on tarmac, and is not an issue at all
when you’re having fun. There is more resistance than a
Hans Dampf for example, but the High Roller II is a more
confidence-inspiring tyre both front and rear.
Riding in the north Lakes, we ran higher pressures
(more so than normal) throughout the test (27 psi at the
front, 32 at the back), to compensate for the relatively
unsupportive sidewalls and to prevent burping. On our third
ride, we managed to put a significant hole in the rear tyre,
and although it went back up with an anchovy and stayed
sealed for the remainder of the test, if you are particularly
hard on tyres, we would recommend that you consider the
new Double Down version for extra protection. It might
weigh more but it is a lot more durable, and for this tester
at least the whole point of tubeless is less faff and more
riding time, though unless you’re pummelling hard rocky
trails or schralping in the Alps, for most riders and UK trail
conditions, the EXO version is more than durable enough.
The tyres popped up tubeless first time, using just a track
pump on both Stan’s Flow EX and DT EX471 rims, and
other than putting a hole in the rear sidewall, they didn’t burp
or lose pressure throughout the duration of the test. Finally,
wear was slightly higher than average, but then again we were
running the softer of the 3C compounds available and this is a
small price to pay for the grip on offer.
Overall
There’s a reason why these tyres are so prevalent, and that’s
because they offer a near perfect balance of traction, cornering
confidence and flexibility. They’ll do a near enough brilliant
job of keeping you upright in all but the worst conditions,
and with the extensive Maxxis range there’s guaranteed to be a
casing and compound to suit your local trails.
108

The High Roller II is a popular trail tyre for a reason. It’s grippy in most
conditions, corners brilliantly, and is happy being run front or rear.
109

VERDICT
We tested ten set of tyres and these are our favourites (the
rest of the reviews will appear online, soon). As we suspected
before starting this test, there was no one tyre that stood head
and shoulders above the rest. There were tyres that excelled in
softer loamier conditions, tyres that flew up the climbs, and
those that were indestructible on sharp rock. However, every
tyre was compromised in some small way, and, therefore,
finding the right tyre for you is a question of striking that
balance between the riding characteristics you find important.
Likewise, the terrain you spend most of your time on has
a huge part to play – if your local trails are predominantly
steep and rocky, with less emphasis on the climbs, then you’re
naturally going to favour a tougher tyre that’s more resistant
to pinches and cuts. Conversely, if your trails are more
undulating you’ll be after something with less heft or with a
lower profile tread so you can focus on maintaining speed.
This goes some way to explain why you often find cliques of
riders in an area all rocking the same tyre – once someone
lands on a winning combination, word soon spreads and it
can be hard to branch out and try something new.
However, don’t be completely swayed by what your riding
buddies say. One huge factor that revealed itself through our
testing, was how different riders prefer different shaped tyres
– even for tackling the same terrain. Now this might sound
obvious, but bear with us… some riders responded better to
a tyre with a rounder profile – the more gradual transition
to the cornering knobs helps to build confidence and gives
a more consistent grip on a range of terrain. On the other
hand, some riders prefer a much squarer tyre with a definite
transition to the cornering edges. This type of tyre rewards a
more aggressive riding style, but it can be harder to get the
most out of them and it can be unnerving if you aren’t used
to it (and we’re not even going to start on how different rim
widths can affect tyre profiles).
There’s no getting away from it, we’ve had a lot of
punctures in this test, but, interestingly, they weren’t
restricted to the lighter tyres. A few of the flats were due to a
combination of rider error and bad luck, but some were most
definitely down to the tyres.
Whether it’s because they encouraged us to hang things
out a bit more and hit the trails that much harder, or if there
was something else at play, one thing was clear – punctures
suck, and those few hundred grams you’ve saved by fitting
featherweight rubber are worth nothing when you’re at the
side of the trail getting reacquainted with a tubeless repair kit.
We’re not suggesting that you all rush out and fit downhill
tyres, but at the same time don’t overlook those burlier tyres
in the ranges. As manufacturers find new ways to make
tyres more durable without adding excess weight, you might
be pleasantly surprised by the additional grip and control
available.
Finally, one thing we can totally recommend, and that’s
clubbing together with handful of your mates, and buying a
few different tyres between you. Hand the tyres out and ride
them for a few weeks, then pass them on to the next person
– it doesn’t take as long as you think to swap tyres out, and
by comparing notes against your fellow riders, you’ll gain so
much more knowledge, get a great insight into why some tyres
behave the way they do, and hopefully discover a tyre combo
that works for you.
THE COMPETITION
To read the full review of each and every tyre you see below, keep your
eyes peeled on singletrackworld.com over the coming weeks.
Continental
Der Kaiser Projekt
2.4 Protection Apex
£74.95
Continental UK,
conti-tyres.co.uk
Specialized
Butcher GRID
2Bliss Ready
£35
Specialized UK,
specialized.com/gb
Kenda
Honey Badger
£40.69
Moore Large & Co,
moorelarge.co.uk
Vee
Crown Gem
£41.49
Upgrade Bikes,
upgradebikes.co.uk
Schwalbe
Hans Dampf
Super Gravity
£64.99
Schwalbe UK,
schwalbe.com/gb
WTB
Vigilante TCS
Tough High Grip
£45.99
Hotlines,
hotlines-uk.com
110

111

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If you are a business and are interested in becoming a Premier Dealer,
email ross@singletrackworld.com
or call 01706 811730
18 Bikes
18bikes.co.uk
Cool Sierras
coolsierras.com
Mountain Bike Kerala
mountainbikekerala.com
Swinley Bike Hub
swinleybikehub.com
3 Peaks Cycles
3peakscycles.com
Cyclehighlands
cyclehighlands.com
MudHugger
themudhugger.co.uk
The Cycle Factory
facebook.com/cyclefactoryuk
Aaron’s Bikes
aaronsbikes.com
Cyclewise
cyclewise.co.uk
Muddybum Bikes
muddybumbikes.com
The Ride Stuff
the-ride-stuff.co.uk
Beics Brenin - Coed Y Brenin
beicsbrenin.co.uk
Czech MTB Holidays
czechmtbholidays.com
Pace Cycles Service Centre
pacecycles.com
The Riders’ Guild
theridersguild.com
Bikegoo
bikegoo.co.uk
Dalby Bike Barn
dalbybikebarn.co.uk
Pedal Addiction
pedaladdiction.com
The VELO Store
velo-m.co.uk
Bikeseven Cycle Service
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Dales Bike Centre
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Pure Mountains
puremountains.com
The White Room
whiteroomchalet.com
Biketart
biketart.com
Downland Cycles Ltd
downlandcycles.co.uk
RAD8 Ltd
rad8.co.uk
Tom Hutton MTB Guiding
mtbguiding.co.uk
Biketreks
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Drover Cycles
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Riders Cycle Centre
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Tweeks Cycles
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Blazing Bikes
blazingbikes.co.uk
Flare Clothing Company
flareclothingco.com
Ride Ibiza
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Ty Beic Holiday Cottages
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Blazing Saddles
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Garage Bikes
garagebikes.co.uk
Rutland Cycles
rutlandcycling.com
Ubyk Ltd
ubyk.co.uk
Bounce Cycles
bouncecycles.co.uk
Geared Up Cycles (Surrey)
gearedupcycles.com
Sierra MTB
sierracycling.com
VeeTireCo UK Limited
www.veetireco.co.uk
C6 Bikes
c6bikes.co.uk
HebTroCo
hebtro.co
Sixth Element
sixthelement.co.uk
Weecog
weecog.co.uk
Charlie The Bikemonger
charliethebikemonger.com
J E James Cycles
jejamescycles.co.uk
Soho Bikes, London
sohobikes.co.uk
Wheelbase
wheelbase.co.uk
Chevin Cycles
chevincycles.com
Jolly Good Alpine Holidays Ltd
jollygood.com
Stif Cycles
stif.co.uk
WildBike Ltd
wildbike.co.uk
Comrie Croft Bikes
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Moose Cycles
moosecycles.com
Sutton Bank Bikes
suttonbankbikes.co.uk
Yorkshire Cycle Hub
yorkshirecyclehub.wordpress.com
112

WE JUST WORK HERE
Who we are, what we do (but not why) and
what our signature cookery dishes are.
Mark Alker – Publisher
(erm…deluxe pancake breakfast with
meat and syrup.)
Chipps Chippendale – Editor
(…Saba nigiri sushi.)
Wil Barrett – Technical Editor
(…pork peanut satay curry.)
Hannah Dobson – Editorial Manager
(…strawberry roulade.)
Rob Mitchell – Art Director
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113

DISCOVER AN EXTRA
32 PAGES OF
EXCLUSIVE PREMIER
CONTENT
IN THE ISSUE 114 PREMIER EDITION
Adventure: Azores - Hawaii of The Atlantic
Karen Eller explores this tropical island paradise in the mid-Atlantic.
Column: Grand Finale
Through a blur of painkillers and adrenaline, Ian Bailey reflects on a
riding holiday gone wrong.
UK Adventure: My First Mountain
Sanny takes a friend to revisit the first big mountain they ever rode.
Is it any easier on a modern fat bike than on an early Pine Mountain?
Last Word
Chipps discusses the abusive relationship between race organisers,
racers and races themselves.
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115

116

ADVENTURE
HAwaiI of
thE AtLantic
Karen Eller and pals take a trip to the ‘so
foreign, yet so close’ mid-Atlantic jungle
wonderland - The Azores.
WORDS KAREN ELLER PHOTOGRAPHY MARIA KNOLL
If the Azorean weather can’t come to us, can’t we just go there?
Of course. In five hours you can be on a secluded group of
islands right in the middle of the Atlantic.
Julia, our photographer Maria and I don’t set out on
this journey completely unprepared. Out of the total nine
inhabited volcanic islands, the two most easterly, Sao Miguel
and Santa Maria, are renowned for being an enduro paradise.
Our Azorean friends Andre (One) and Andre (Two) are
waiting for us at the airport in Sao Miguel, the largest of the
islands. They grab our bags, load them into the car, and take
us to our accommodation for the night.
117

Rise and shine!
Our two guides pick us up in the morning while it’s still dark.
As the sun’s first rays reach out over the eastern horizon we
stand 947m above sea level on Pico da Barrosa, the highest
point on the island. Below us there’s a beautiful display of
colours – light green illuminating a circular lake framed by a
white sandy beach. The darkening forest reveals its contours
and radiates surreal rich green tones that stand out against the
azure blue sky. We can’t take our eyes off the colours.
The guide waves past a bunch of local enduro riders who
want to ride the island’s longest trail before work. Then it’s
our turn. We leave the crater lake on our left and follow the
path along a ridge. Riding for a while with a view of the sea,
the trail suddenly plunges into dense vegetation. It’s a tunnel
of roots and lianas. To begin with, the blue sky shines through
the dense network and then the lush greenery takes over.
The trail turns into a roller coaster with no emergency exit.
Right turn, then left turn, our tyres grip down into a peat-like
soil from which a root protrudes every now and again. Each
time I think I’m falling I’m caught by a berm, then after the
bend comes a drop. And repeat…
All of a sudden an open meadow appears: time to apply
the brakes. I nearly ride into Andre and Julia who have just
let a pair of Azorean cows go past. There are 200,000 cows on
Sao Miguel – that’s one cow for every inhabitant. As we come
to a stop at the small port of Caloura, Andre One is waiting
for us with the shuttle. We drive halfway up to Pico da
Barrosa. At the bend a wooden sign points towards a popular
downhill course. “If the descent becomes too difficult, keep to
the left. That’s where we’ve installed Chickenways,” explains
our guide. ‘Chickenways’ somehow sounds more regimented
than mere chicken lines. And it’s not just at one spot that I’m
glad about them.
But first, the limbo competition!
118

119

After the descent we continue down the street to Ribeira
Grande. The biggest town on Sao Miguel’s north coast is a
small place with lots of sandy beaches and small black dots on
the water… surfers! It’s a hotspot for wave riders. We follow
Andre into a place called Casa de Pasto. It’s a bar that is not
immediately recognisable as one from the outside. Inside,
however, the dining room is packed and plates of hearty
home-cooked food are being served. We manage to get the
last empty table and without being asked are given a carafe
of red wine. Andre immediately covers it with his hand.
“Careful; this wine can’t be imported into the EU due to its
high alcohol content. We only drink it mixed with Laranjada,
our Maracuja lemonade, otherwise you’ll get hallucinations.”
This concoction tastes delicious. It goes perfectly with the
meat stew and fried squid. There’s pineapple for dessert, which
is unbelievably fresh and juicy. “If you want, I’ll show you the
greenhouses later. They belong to my father,” garbles Andre
with two pieces in his mouth.
[Yep, that’s how they grow - Pineapple Ed.]
120

121

Island hopping and a change of scene.
After three days there’s a change of scenery – we climb aboard
a small propeller plane and fly over to Santa Maria. It’s the
southernmost island in the Azores and not particularly large.
Sao Miguel is about the size of La Palma in the Canaries and
Santa Maria is not even half the size of the island of Elba off
the coast of Italy. We touch down on an oversized runway
and quickly realise that Santa Maria is much hotter, drier and,
unfortunately, much flatter than Sao Miguel.
We are welcomed by our new guides – Hugo and Miguel.
They can already see the doubt on our faces and try to allay
our worries: “It’s only flat in the west. On the east of the
island there are 600 metre-high mountains with fantastic
trails.”
Pico Alto is, at 587m, the highest peak in Santa Maria. Its
mountain range runs from north to south, from the flat west
to the hilly east. Hugo points to the faint lines that disappear
into the jungle. “There are seven trails for you here at Pico.”
The first is called Aeroplane Trail, which starts at Point Zero.
In 1989 a Boeing 707 crashed into Pico in the fog. All 145
passengers were killed. There’s a memorial plaque marking the
tragic accident. Not the most cheerful start to a great trail…
As we set off, an open roller coaster awaits us, which
leads to a flow trail through the jungle full of small (and big)
surprises in the form of roots, steps, drops and berms. Every
now and then we’re struck on the face by small thorns. The
last section of the trail curves into a narrow bend through a
cactus-filled landscape.
At midday we stop at a small bar in the bay of Praia
122

123

Snack-time, Azores style.
Formosa for a café Pingal – an espresso with a dash of milk.
A postman rattles around the corner on a scooter. Hugo
greets him warmly, and introduces us to this man in his grey
uniform: Nuno Aguiar aka Káká, mountain bike downhiller
of the moment. He moved from Sao Miguel to Santa Maria a
few years ago and began searching for trails using old military
maps. That’s how he discovered the ones on Pico Alto, which
were, at that time, completely overgrown. Using a shovel and
an axe he was able to expose the trails. Unfortunately, due
to his job and family, he is unable to spend as much time
on his bike, which is why Hugo has taken over the job of
looking after the trails. He ensures that they are used regularly.
However, he occasionally closes some of the more frequently
used trails to allow them to regenerate. The Enduro World
Series is due to make a stop here in 2018. Everything needs to
be perfect for that.
On the way up to Pico we make the most of as many
trails as possible before gently descending to San Lorenzo
in the evening. At a colourfully painted beach bar we order
Cerveja de Pressao, a local draft beer, and enjoy spectacular
views of the Atlantic waves. We definitely need to come back
here again before this bike paradise becomes too popular.
124

125

The Azores
The Azores are a group of nine islands in the middle of the
Atlantic Ocean, 1,369km from the European mainland.
Santa Maria and Sao Miguel are the eastern islands; Terceira,
Graciosa, Faial, Pico and Sao Jorge are the central islands; and
Flores and Corvo are the western islands. Pico, at 2,351m,
is the highest peak of the island and also the highest peak of
Portugal.
The best mountain biking can be found on Sao Miguel
and Santa Maria. Here you’ll also find bike shops, shuttled
tours and guides.
How to get there
There are direct flights in the summer from London, or other
times via Portugal or European hubs.
From Sao Miguel to Santa Maria there is a cheap daily
connection with SATA Air Açores. Bike transportation is no
problem at all. The flight to Santa Maria takes 15 minutes.
Best time to travel there
The Azores are different to the Canary Islands. The wind
comes from all directions to the islands and brings high
humidity so it can rain every day, but usually only in short
showers. The subtropical climate means temperatures of
maximum 26C in August and a mild 11–16C in February.
May, June, September and October are the perfect months
for riding, since the humidity is low and the temperatures are
between 22 and 24C.
Bike tours
The trails are very difficult to find on your own. Azores
Adventure Islands Tours can organise a trip to all the
islands, including airport transfer, bike shuttle, guiding,
accommodation and rental bikes.
www.azoresadventureislands.com
Santa Maria Tours offers tourist activities, including hiking
and mountain biking.
www.smatur.pt
Bike shops
Bike shops are in Sao Miguel and in Santa Maria. Bring any
special spare parts for your bike you might need, with you.
What you need to do there:
• Visit the tea plantation in Sao Miguel
www.gorreana.de
• Swim in the hot springs at Poca da Dona Beija in Furnas
(Sao Miguel) www.pocadadonabeija.com
• Enjoy a cool beer and burger in Santa Maria in the Central
Pub in Vila do Porto www.centralpub.no.comunidades.net
Bike Events
Enduro-party in Faial da Terra (Sao Miguel) in February,
Info: www.bikesafaritour.com
Azores Challenge MTB, Stage Race in September
www.azoreschallengemtb.com
126

127

IAn BAILEY
PHOTOGRAPHY IAN AND FRIENDS
THE GRAND FINALE
Taking a holiday from being a mountain bike guide, Ian Bailey goes
mountain biking in Italy and lets another guide take the strain. He
also lets his sense of self-preservation have some time off too.
Right this second I’m sitting in the pristine kitchen of a brand new, stunningly situated apartment,
directly overlooking the church spires and jagged roofs of Finalborgo, old town Finale Ligure. The heavily
vegetated hillsides of the surrounding valleys masking a plethora of some of the finest mountain biking
in the world. My beloved Stanton Sherpa is lying on the lawn adjacent to the swimming pool where I
dropped it an hour ago. I won’t be needing it again this week.
The upper-left side of my body has been rendered
almost totally inoperable. I’m unable to lift, or
even hold the weight of my arm. A searing pain is
emanating from a deep gouge in my elbow that I
fear to view, but know I’ll soon need to address.
Somewhere out there my friends are still tearing up
the trails – a touch slower and more reserved than
this morning, wisdom generated at my expense. I’m
the fall guy and through pain and self-pity I want to
curl up and cry, but instead I write, to encapsulate
my feelings as adrenaline and painkillers subside, to
maybe help others avoid my idiotic mishap. This is
a tale of simple statistics and I’m one of the victims.
Take these words at face value because they’re as raw
as the pain I’m experiencing right now as I angrily
one-finger type, the implications of my stupidity
becoming ever more apparent.
I’d planned on writing an article anyway, a
glowing account of the obvious joys of holidays
with friends, incredible biking, Italian cuisine and
hospitality, and that wonderful combination of
circumstances that make riding trips so memorable.
I even sat down this morning and began to write as
the excitement mounted at the prospect of an upliftassisted
guided tour of the best trails in one of the
greatest riding areas in the world. The article will
still come, but the ending is seriously abrupt.
By 11am Saturday morning we’d landed –
sunshine dominating the Nice skyline, strong
coffee and baguettes already consumed. Our driver
Giovanni combined a total disregard for road safety
with possible chronic lack of vision and the first
crash of the holiday seemed inevitable on four
wheels. However, destination reached intact, the
holiday proper was ready to commence.
Change of inclination.
By day three there was a change of tack from the
big ups and big downs of the previous days. I pride
myself on freakish fitness and have been quoted as
claiming ‘I am the uplift’, but it’s good to let the
over-revved and clutch-weary minivans take the
strain once in a while. Today was going to be an
all-day gravity fest. Hours of smashing dusty berms,
chasing tails and firming up pecking orders.
As with all big smashes, everything happened in
an instant. Vague awareness of bars snapped to 90°
and my shoulder and chest slamming hard into solid
ground. Pain and shock are instantaneous as I skid
to a halt and rapidly take stock, immediately aware
that this is a bad one, knowing that you don’t just
walk away from crashing at that speed. Instinctively
I shout, ‘rider down’ to alert Brian as he bursts out
of the corner, just having time to brake hard before
hitting my bike as it bridges the full width of the
trail. I crawl to the trailside and lie on the sun-dried
leaves, spitting gritty dirt from between crunchy
teeth.
Some pains subside while others sharpen and
the familiar nausea of significant injury threatens to
eject my morning cereal. Deep breaths and nodded
answers to concerned questions; we’ve all seen this
before and everyone knows I need time to formulate
correct answers, adrenaline masking the inevitable
burning. Eventually I rise and send the others on
before tentatively remounting and riding the last
steep drops to a more suitable stopping point.
128

COLUMN
129

In the clearing, Matti, our guide, takes over, he’s
the one on the clock so the lads let him do his job.
The gash on my elbow is concerning, but it’s soon
wrapped and patched. I have a severe pain in my
left arm and ribs feel tight, but there’s little point in
delay so I groggily push on, hope of improvement
far outweighing expectation, and totally dashed
as I manual off the first drop and feel a white-hot
shock of pain tear up my bicep. I’m off and walking,
karmically close to the spot where I smugly burned
off yesterday’s downhillers. At that point agony
overrides soul-searching, but I’m already dimly
aware that there will be many repercussions.
Eddie kindly props me up as we walk the last
few hundred metres to the waiting van, head faint
and legs like Bambi. We pile in, an unscheduled
drop-off explained as another victim requires an
early bath. Matti looks gutted for me as we shake
hands, demonstrating the true empathy essential
in our line of work as fellow guides. I wave to the
boys and commence a funereal stroll back through
the beauty of the walled town, past the world’s best
ice cream shop and hundreds of smiling tourists.
Everything for me is cast under a cloud of worries
about hospitals, missed work, races I might not
compete in, and the abrupt and untimely end to the
main reason for my holiday.
And so I sit here in silence. The slow tapping
of finger on keyboard and dark thoughts my only
companions. I feel lonely, stupid and pissed off,
old enough to understand where fault lies but not
mature enough to pre-empt and avoid this error. I
was caught in the moment, driven by animalistic
desires of enjoyment, skirting the extremely fine line
between pleasure and pain, and ultimately landing
the wrong side. I’ll take a shower, check for further
damage and then sit down and work out how to
salvage the best from my remaining holiday as
well as how to limit monetary loss from cancelled
guiding work.
Take my experience however you see fit. You
can heed the warning and back off as you ride,
guaranteeing you’ll milk the last minutes from
your rare riding holidays, or you can play the odds,
stretching the limits to breaking point, knowing
full well that it may end in tears. I’m in no position
to lecture; I’ve done this before over 20 years ago,
memories of staring out of a Chamonix hospital
window unable to move my crumpled body. With
age comes experience, but sense comes from a
different source.
130

131

132

ADVENTURE
my fIRst
MounTaiN
Sanny and Dave take a trip down memory
lane revisiting Dave’s first big mountain
ride on more modern machines.
WORDS & PHOTOGRAPHY DAVID ‘SANNY’ GOULD
It is indeed a curious truth that given how many of us ride
mountain bikes, precious few of them ever see any actual
mountains. There is a strange comfort to be taken from the
knowledge that you could ride up and down a mountain if
you wanted to, even if you never have the inclination to do so.
But what if the heart yearns for more? With bikes becoming
longer and slacker and with travel increasing, today’s machines
are considerably more capable than those that most of us
started out on. As such, there has probably never been a better
time to go off the beaten trail centre path and broaden your
riding horizons.
133

134

Scottish trail fashion has peaked.
“Wil, you’re an idiot!”
A plan was hatched with Antipodean Wil, still new to this
parish and keen to tackle a proper Scottish mountain. It was
all going swimmingly right up to the point at which his skill
set proved to be more Ian McCaskill than Danny MacAskill
and he managed to dislocate his shoulder on the blue route
at Glentress. Doh! Fortunately, my good friend Dave the
Bastard (don’t ask me – all I know is that it comes from a case
of mistaken identity at university) gamefully stepped in with a
bonzer idea. “Why don’t we go up Ben Venue? It was the very
first mountain I ever rode in 1993 on my mountain bike.”
We were back in business.
Enter the dragon (aka the midge, Scotland’s
national bird).
For those who don’t know, Ben Venue is something of a
picture postcard, properly pointy mountain located within
easy reach of the second city of the Empire, Glasgow, with
breathtaking views in all directions (unless you manage to
pick the slightly dreich day we did). It’s not enormously high,
but what it lacks in scale it more than makes up for in terms
of grandeur and that all important element of being close
to a bloody good café or two. A recent walk up it with my
daughter revealed that the trail fairies had been hard at work
and the previous bog-fest ascent from Loch Achray had been
greatly improved. Without map in hand (I left it on the coffee
table at home like a prize plum), Dave and I set off from the
car park keen to see if distance and the passage of time had
lent enchantment.
As befits a Scottish mountain day, the midges came out
in force to cheer us on our way – the little shits! Even with a
midge net, the wee bastards were getting through and feasting
on the all-you-can-eat Yorkshire buffet that was Dave. Rather
smugly I had remembered to cover myself in industrial
quantities of Smidge pre-ride – not so Dave. Well done me.
With nary a breath of wind, we set off at haste up through the
well-built woodland trail that would take us to the base of the
mountain. A mix of coniferous and deciduous trees abounded,
each turn affording us a tantalising glimpse of our target
through the verdant canopy. Hardpack turned to boardwalk
turned to minor back road as we left the midges behind and
started to properly enjoy the ride. The lack of map proved not
to be an issue – the route being well signposted. A brief stop
at the obligatory bridge over waterfall and we were soon into
the climb proper.
With this being a step back to the future for Dave, we
(being me, Dictator Sanny) decided that he should ride my
long-term test bike, a Cannondale Fat CAAD 1 resplendent
with Lefty fork, 4.8 inch tyres and a dropper post. It was a
far cry from his then cutting edge Marin Pine Mountain, a
fully rigid vision in chromoly and purple. Given that he was
revisiting an old friend, it seemed appropriate to do it while
taking advantage of the latest technology just as he did in ’93.
“So what do you remember of your last trip here?” I
asked as we cleared the treeline on a path that rose inexorably
upwards into the heavy clouds above. “It was my first proper
ride on my new bike,” replied Dave.
135

Not the bars he had in mind.
Hike-a-fat-bike looks like minimal fun.
“I’d just bought a Saracen with those fancy new suspension
forks, but it only lasted a week before I found myself in a
hospital bed without my bike and none the wiser! My boss
took pity on me and chipped in with my colleagues to buy
me a new bike, the Pine Mountain.” I began to think that I
should rechristen him Lucky Dave.
Encountering a particularly steep and loose section, I
watched him power up and through, his fat tyres instilling
comedic levels of traction and control. He was clearly relishing
his new-found climbing prowess as he rode up to me, his face
a picture of Cheshire Cat grinniness [That’s not a word – Ed].
What had once been a boggy trudge through dank forest had
transformed into an easy to ride path, albeit in a slightly postapocalyptic
clear-felled landscape. It wasn’t traditionally pretty,
but it afforded us views of the corrie rearing up ahead of us.
Upward, ever upward.
Contrary to my usual mountain ‘ride’ of ‘ride a little bit,
carry most of it and maybe ride the last few yards’, we found
ourselves still riding. As the incline steepened, the smooth trail
became crossed with stone water bars.
However, whoever had installed these had done a great job
of making them bike friendly – not so steep and sharp as to
make riding up and over them an awkward affair, but enough
to be a fun challenge.
Eventually our luck would run out. A steep section of
blank rock beside the quintessential waterfall necessitated
a bit of hikeabike portage. While a little awkward, it wasn’t
going to stop us on our mission. Cresting the top, the path
levelled off again and we were back and riding. “What a great
path!” I shouted to Dave when, with impeccable timing, it
disappeared to be replaced by the slough of despond. I have to
admit that I watched with jealous envy as Dave floated across
the boggy morass while my wagon wheels sank ever deeper.
Fortunately, normal service quickly resumed as the upgraded
path re-established itself and we crested the bealach (that’s
‘saddle’ for our more genteel and refined southern readers).
To our right, a properly intimidating rocky carry up on a
loose, scree-laden track looked really unpleasant. To our left,
a narrow ribbon of mildly precipitous singletrack – at times a
bit lumpy, but one which leads to a terrific descent down to
Loch Ard and a cracker of a tearoom far below.
136

137

A sprinkling of magenta on a cloudy Scottish day.
We chose right. Bikes hoisted onto shoulders, we made quick
progress up the slope. Thankfully, it was only a temporary
blip as the ground levelled off a bit and we alternated between
hikeabike and sections of rideable trail. By this point, we
were well and truly shrouded in cloud – another mountain
speciality. However, the schoolboy error omission of map and
compass was not to prove to be our undoing. The path was
well trodden so getting lost wasn’t really on the cards.
It’s not a mountain ride unless something goes
wrong.
Looking at the trail that would rank high on the rockus
technicalus scale, I expressed my genuine respect that Dave
had ridden it all those years ago. There were two short but
steep sections that I definitely wouldn’t be attempting unless
I was keen to repeat Dave’s disappearing bike trick. “So how
did you get down the last time?” I asked, expecting to be told
of secret singletrack coming off the summit or a tale of epic
derring-do and skill. “Oh we just headed cross-country…”
I must have looked slightly crestfallen. Had we come all this
way just to ride down grass?
As it transpired, Dave had a good reason for not taking
the rocky trail down. “By the time we had gotten to the top,
my mate’s bike had broken. Unable to ride it, I ended up
having to give him a backy while he carried his broken bike
on his shoulder.” Ah yes, the stuff of legend. Now this was
more like it. It’s not a proper mountain ride unless something
goes wrong and you manage to get yourself out of a pickle.
We both laughed at the thought of Dave and his mate riding
uncontrollably down the mountain on an early ’90s, less than
slack, rigid bike with only rim brakes to slow them down.
My mind wandered back to the joys of cantilever brakes on
wet rims – frantic grabbing at handfuls of brake lever only
to be met with the sound of grinding and squealing as I was
propelled ever faster forward. Ah yes, the good old days.
138

139

What goes up…
In proper ’90s style, we dined on the classic gastronomic
delight that would have Heston hurling in his grave (except,
of course, he isn’t dead!) – TUC cheese crackers. Nothing says
student living more than slightly stale crackers and a synthetic
cheese filling that has never been near anything cheese-like.
Retiring to our bothy shelter beside the summit trig point, a
fine drizzle breaking through the grey, we awaited the arrival
of scorching sunshine and dusty trails. They never came. My
email request had clearly gone astray. Oh well, it would have
to be a dessert of Nutella and peanut butter wraps. Oh the
luxury!
With the briefest of breaks in the clouds, we caught a
glimpse of what we could have won, Jim Bowen Bullseye style.
Far below us lay the calm waters of Loch Achray and Loch
Katrine, the latter a marvel of Victorian engineering. As the
primary source of water for the city of Glasgow, the Victorians
developed an ingenious gravity fed system that drops less than
30 feet over some 25 miles before coming out at Craigmaddie
Reservoir on the very outskirts of the city. Impressive is an
understatement. To the west, the sharp peaks of the Southern
Highlands crowd the skyline, all competing for attention
with their sharp arêtes and bulky mass – these are the big
guns – the Munros – all peaks above 3,000 feet in height with
many worthy of exploration by bike. To the south, the sorely
underrated Campsie Fells and in the distance, the Mos Eisleyesque
vista of Glasgow. Not bad a view for not a lot of effort.
Of course, what goes up must come down and we were
keen to see how our ascent path would play in reverse. If you
like tech, this could well be the trail for you. There are a few
sections of steep rockiness that lie on the rideable/unrideable
border. Fortunately for mere mortals like ourselves, these
bits are short and can easily be walked down. Riding back to
the bealach, flow was not in abundance. This was slow speed
tech riding. I suspect if Dave had ridden it on his old Pine
Mountain, this might have made for another loss of memory/
hospital bed/lost bike story. Easy it wasn’t and for a first-time
mountain, I wouldn’t recommend it.
However, from the bealach it is an altogether different
story. The for the most part eminently rideable ascent would
prove to be a terrific descent.
Protection from midges, the rain, or Sanny?
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Those fat tyres just glide over the mud… Steps too…

Easy step-ups became launch points as we blasted back
down the trail – careful timing being required so as not to
shoot off the trail into the beckoning bog and an appointment
with our midge friends. What it lacked in technical features,
it more than made up in terms of enjoyment. Water crossings
were to be relished even in our slightly moist state. Corners
to be taken as fast as we dared. With the hill virtually to
ourselves save for some German walkers (complete with
umbrella – a wise touch for sure), and a couple who were
finding the rocky outcrop by the waterfall part way down
considerably more challenging than we had earlier, we could
savour every turn and drop without having to worry about
slowing down for fellow mountain travellers. The trail ahead
was clear and we were taking full advantage of it. I pressed
on gamely, throwing the bike from edge to edge while Dave
marvelled at his hitherto unknown ability to really crank
down hard into corners at speed without wondering whether
his tyres would grip. Fat tyres will do that for you.
Reaching the car park all too soon, our trip back to the
future had paid off and then some. However, we weren’t
done yet. With no mountain day complete without post-ride
refreshments and chat, we high tailed it to the Brig o’Turk
café. It was well past cake o’clock and we were beginning
to have the haunted look of cat walk models. Constructed
entirely from wood, the Brig O’Turk has a real old-world
charm. Thankfully, it dispenses with the poor service and surly
attitude that blights so many Scottish eateries and instead
serves up great food in proper portions and with a smile.
Practically inhaling my can of pop in one fell swoop, I
opted for the Eton Mess. While normally anything served
on a slate is about as welcome to me as a fart in a space suit
(seriously, what is wrong with a bowl and a spoon?), this
particular mess was a genuine triumph and a real high note
on which to end our little adventure. So did our trip down
memory lane live up to expectations? Hell yeah!
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There’s far too much order in that Eton mess.
Planning your adventure.
Ben Venue is a good hill on which to start your mountain
journey. It is neither too high, nor too remote to be a
formidable proposition. It is well signposted and the trail up
to the bealach is fun in both directions. While the views from
the summit on a good day are terrific, the riding is definitely
technical and may be an acquired taste for many. Better to
leave the bike at the saddle and walk the last section.
If time and inclination dictates, there is a more technical
descent option down to Loch Ard which lies to the south of
the summit. Having ridden this several times, it makes for
a fun but challenging descent. There is a café at the bottom
which is worth a detour and you’ll be glad of it as you grind
your way back up and over the Duke’s Pass to where you
‘And here’s what you could have won…’
started. Alternatively, if you start at Loch Ard, there is a long
but entirely rideable Land Rover track ascent that tops out at
an old shooting hut, complete with veranda from where you
can do a two-minute cross-country schlep to connect with the
descent back down to Loch Ard.
As with any mountain ride, plan your trip accordingly.
Let someone know your route and your expected time of
return. Pack plenty of food, midge repellent, water, spare
clothes and a survival bag or bothy shelter. Learn how to use a
map and compass (and remember to bring them!). Start small
and work your way up. Knowledge comes with experience.
Oh and don’t forget the all-important post ride café stop!
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ChIPPs
LAST WORD
Event organisers and the cycle of abuse, forgiveness and eventual love.
As well as writing about bikes and the people behind them, I’ve been involved in organising mountain
bike events for 20 years or so. Since helping organise the very first Mountain Mayhem in 1998, I’ve spent
countless weekends in random fields with my big boots on and stripy tape and secateurs to hand.
The world seems to divide reasonably easily between
actors, audience and backstage crew, and there seems
to be a particular type of person who finds themselves
called to work behind the scenes (usually unheralded
and barely rewarded) for the glory of the event.
The motivation of the players – the actors, the
racers, the rock stars – is pretty easy to trace. They’re
(often) blessed with talent and bring that determination
and ambition to succeed. Performing, whether it is at
the front of the race, or sitting on the drum riser, is what
they live for. That drive and hunger to succeed needs to
be sated. The rest, as they say, is just waiting.
The audiences, meanwhile, want to be entertained.
That’s a pretty simple deal to understand too. Pay your
money (or don’t – but even turning up to a free event
still costs your time and effort) and then expect to be
amused, or enthralled. Shocked or delighted. There’s
something about a live event that feels different to
watching a screen.
And then there are the event organisers. Those
mostly hidden backstage workers who bring you the
spectacles to watch (or perform in). They’re a different
breed, for sure.
Something like 50% of Singletrack’s readers never
do events, but the other 50% do. And those riders
expect to turn up on the Friday night, or Sunday
morning or whenever, take part and go home again. The
organiser and their team will often be on site the week
before, prepping the course, bringing in the barriers,
directing the toilet delivery and putting the flags up.
It’s a long process – and anyone who’s seen the literally
miles of course tape that flanks the course at Fort
William or Mountain Mayhem, can only guess at how
long that takes to put up. (Securely, so it won’t blow
away, but also with the sponsor’s name the correct way
up.) And just as races tend to go on regardless of the
weather, so the whole preceding week of weather can’t
have any bearing on getting that course up and marked.
Winter cyclocross organisers will be in the town park
before it’s light, wearing head torches to see where to put
course markers while fielding complaints from the ‘But I
always walk here on a Sunday’ dog walkers.
As the riders start arriving, every event venue
I’ve ever been to (save, perhaps, the London
Olympics) is still taking shape. However much time
you leave to get the place pitched, there’ll always be
enough last minute jobs to ensure that early practice
lappers will have to use a bit of common sense and
course finding until the rest of the tape goes up.
The event itself, for the organiser, is usually a
blur of plate spinning and on the spot improvising.
A rider is down, do you need to stop the race? Or
reroute it? And then what about the affected lap
times? There’s a dog on the course. Three riders are
missing timing chips. The farmer needs to get to his
gate. The inflatable finish arch genny is starting to
run out of petrol. It’s a rare (or very well organised,
or master delegator) organiser that will hear the start
gun and think ‘My work here is done’.
In fact, I’ve often been so frazzled by the time
the event actually starts that I find I resent the
whole thing. The thought of doing another event
just makes me shudder. I’ve seen that look in other
race organisers’ eyes, in the lead up to, or during,
an event. That thought of ‘Let’s just get this over
with and then I can have a glass of wine’. Or after
an event as the VW T5s leave the car park and the
organiser is filling wet bin bags with wet rubbish
and muddy course tape. Ask them then and they
couldn’t think of anything worse than doing it all
again.
Give it a day or two for the positive comments
to appear online, or the messages of thanks by text
and phone, and the organiser starts to forget the
early starts and crappy days. And soon the entry
forms for next year are drafted again.
Next time you’re at an event, spare a thought for
the organiser, teetering between love and resentment
for their own event and remember the power of a
‘Thank you’.
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