Oli Clark - King of the Hill
Words Riley McLay
Images Riley McLay, Sven Martin & Cameron Mackenzie
The pointy end of World Cup downhill racing just got a whole lot pointier! Arguably, the most talented class of male junior riders ever is graduating to the elite ranks in 2026. Among them, Kiwi Oli Clark, who will be on a mission to establish himself as a consistent contender for the podium for years to come.
2025 was a breakout year for Oli, highlighted by his first World Cup win at Leogang and a string of impressive results, including a 4th at the World Championships, 6th overall in the junior standings, as well as two strong showings at both Red Bull Hardline Wales and Tasmania.
Despite the inevitable ups and downs of downhill racing, Oli has already built a strong foundation for success at such a young age, along with a grounded perspective to his racing.
Heading into 2026, Oli’s dedication has paid off with a high-profile factory team signing to Mondraker Factory Racing. Joining an already star-studded line-up featuring Rónán Dunne and Ryan Pinkerton, he’s ready to carry his red-hot form into the elite ranks.
We had the pleasure of catching up with Oli ahead of the 2026 World Cup season to hear about the early days of racing, what he wants to get out of his racing, and how he’s preparing to make the step up to the elite category.
Let’s start at the very beginning. What was your first introduction to bikes and how have they shaped your early life?
I’ve always been into bikes, ever since I was little. My cousins rode motorbikes, mainly enduro, and that was always something I wanted to get into. I’m originally from Methven, but we moved to Blenheim when I was still pretty young. At school, I had a few mates who started riding, so I ended up taking my sister’s bike out that she got for Christmas that year. It was an Avanti, I can’t actually remember what model, just a hardtail. It was a cheap bike, but we thought it was expensive. We started going out riding together, and it just escalated from there.
What was your first taste of racing?
I was just riding with mates at first and really enjoying it. Then I kind of slowed down on the motorbiking side and started riding bikes more. I got my first full suspension. It was a Liv Hail and went straight to clips. There was a Nelson Winter Series and a few club races around Marlborough at that time. The first race I did was an enduro, and I thought it was a race to the finish, like racing all the transitions as well, so I ended up being the first one done. The Nelson Winter Series was the main one where everything kind of kicked off. I did those for about three or four years, then started moving into nationals.
When did you realize you had the potential to take your riding more seriously?
It was just for fun the whole time, really. There were a couple of boys travelling and doing nationals, so I started jumping in with them and travelling to the races. I did the national series for a couple of years and started getting some good results, keeping up with some of the older boys. That’s when I kind of decided to stick at it.
Were there any riders you looked up to or used as inspiration to see what a path in racing could look like?
I didn’t really know many people at the time. Justin Leov was around when we lived in Blenheim, so I rode with him quite a bit at his place. Then there were the boys in Nelson; Sammy G, Shannon Hewetson, and Kieran Bennett. I always looked up to them. You’d see them all the time at races. In between their race runs, they’d change into a fresh kit and everything. I thought that was pretty cool. I was like, I want to have that one day.
Was there anyone who stood out as a mentor or helped guide you through the racing scene?
Justin definitely helped a lot, but I didn’t really have anyone specifically mentoring me. I never really had coaching or anything, it was more just figuring it out myself. Mum and dad never really pushed me either. They just supported me with whatever I wanted to do. No matter what, they were always behind me. Progression just came from riding with faster people and gradually getting better. You sort of move up that way, just keeping at it. There’s always been faster riders, so you’re always chasing and pushing to keep up.
What was your first opportunity to get race support, and what did that look like?
When I moved from Blenheim to Kaikōura, we approached one of the local bike shops to see if they could help out a little bit. I ended up buying a Specialized through one of their sales reps. Dwayne from Coastal Sports wanted to help out as much as they could and said they could get me on this ambassador program. We ended up working with the same sales rep I bought the bike from on the program. That was my first real support and led to me getting my first-ever downhill bike. I had only ridden a downhill bike a little bit before that. The team at Middle Hill had an old Glory that I rode on for a couple of races. Morgan and Genevieve were so keen to help me out, which was pretty cool.
What was your intro to Middle Hill?
When we moved to Kaikōura, there wasn’t really any riding. We found out that they were keen to build something at Middle Hill, so we started heading up and digging with them. Most days after school, and all weekend, just digging with dad and I. That’s kind of where that whole relationship began. I’ve been up there ever since I started, and they’ve helped me heaps. Morgan was also a really good rider and I looked up to him a lot, always chasing him around.
Can you give us a quick overview of your progression during your first two years in the junior category?
The first year going overseas, we were just trying to find a team that would make things as easy as possible, and Unior seemed like the best fit. The original connection actually goes back to around my 13th birthday, when I did a YT Mob camp at Jentree. That really opened doors to meeting pros and seeing how they had mechanics and chefs, all that kind of setup. I thought that was pretty cool. They ran us through some race simulations, too. The guy managing the YT Mob at the time, Martin (Whiteley), who’s now my manager, was there and I stayed in touch with him ever since. Eventually, he helped me get onto Unior. That year was a real learning experience. The results weren’t amazing, but there was so much I could learn from. For my first year in junior, it was probably the best thing for me. In my second year, Unior had to stop because of all the team changes. They couldn’t afford to enter as a team anymore. I was kind of stuck with nothing and no spots opening up anywhere. Then I connected with Ali from Zerode and asked if there was any chance I could get one of their bikes. I’d ridden one before and really loved it, so I was super keen to ride it again. They did as much as they could to help me. Ali started talking with MS and got me hooked up with them, so i was going to go over and have a bit of support for races, but as I started doing well, that support elevated.
Looking back, how did your outlook or preparation change going into your second junior season, and how do you reflect on the progress you made?
I was kind of left with nothing, so when that opportunity came, it was huge. At the time, I was working on trail building, trying to save up some money, and train as well. I was also preparing for the worst-case scenario, figuring I’d have to cover everything myself. I went over with some savings so I could get by and manage travel costs. Once I got the support, though, things really started to click. I got a coach for the gym, a coach for riding and that helped me heaps with all my fitness. It wasn’t a make-or-break season exactly, but I knew I had to do well to keep going.
Otherwise, it would’ve been really hard to afford more than a couple of years on my own. Coming from New Zealand, the dollar is worth about half of theirs, so we had to spend nearly double what they would have to spend to do the same thing.
Coming up alongside a batch of high-level New Zealand talent in the junior field, how did you maintain perspective and keep a level head while making the jump to international racing?
Well, I think because we were all just riding together, having fun, and pushing each other. The first year, I kind of thought I’d go over and get some good results, but obviously, there was still a lot of work to be done. Tyler (Waite), who I was competing with back in New Zealand, was doing really well, so I knew I could too. It was just a few little things that didn’t go in my favor. But yeah, being all from NZ, pushing each other, that’s really why we are where we are today.
How did it feel in your second junior year to be right in the mix with arguably the best generational talent ever seen in the category, and did you have any expectations going in?
Oh, I was pretty surprised to be honest. I had done heaps of training and was just trying my best. But really, I just went out there to have fun. I thought, I’ve done everything I can to be here, so just enjoy it. I didn’t really have any expectations. I was just like, ‘go have fun,’ because that’s when I ride my best. Of course, I wanted to do well and there were goals, but mostly I just went with the flow.
Your win in Leogang was obviously a standout moment in 2025. Can you walk us through your preparation going into that race, and what it felt like to take the win?
I’d done a little bit of riding there with the team in Leogang before the race, but I wasn’t really expecting much going in. I rode heaps with Tuhoto, and we were pushing each other, doing laps together. Poland was the first race of the year; I got third there. Then at Loudonville, I was feeling really good. I was doing well in the splits, but I got a flat tire, which was frustrating. I wanted to prove something, but I was mostly just enjoying it. At Leogang, I didn’t feel like I was riding my best. During qualifying, I told my manager I’d done an average run, not very good, but then I ended up qualifying first. I thought, okay, maybe I could do something here. Being up there was pretty nerve-wracking. You’re the last one on the hill in your category, everyone else has already gone down. It’s pretty surreal. Then I came down first, and the feeling was crazy. It’s hard to describe, honestly you just have to be there to get it.
Heading into this season, signing with Mondraker Factory Racing is a huge accomplishment in itself. Does that take some pressure off, or does it raise expectations knowing you now have that level of support?
There isn’t really much pressure from anyone else from the team, it’s more the pressure I put on myself. As long as I’m doing everything I can back home to prepare, I just need to go over and do the same thing, go have fun. That’s why I started riding, and that’s why I’m here. I don’t really see it as a job, it’s still about having fun.
Your career has come together quickly, with a World Cup win and two Hardline appearances. Have you had a chance to reflect on what you’ve achieved?
I don’t really like to look back. I just want to keep moving forward and keep progressing. The motivation for me is always wanting to be better. I’d say I’m quite a competitive person. At the same time, I enjoy doing lots of other things. But when I come back to biking, I still find the enjoyment in it. It’s not just about results, you have to have fun, and the more you do it, the better you get.
How does your approach for a Hardline race compare to a World Cup week?
It’s such a different event. Everyone’s more relaxed, or at least the vibe was, the event is changing a lot. People are there to help each other out and just have fun. It’s a really cool atmosphere. For me, riding those Hardline races is so much fun. The nerves, it’s like scary, but once you’re on it, it’s so fun. I love big jumps and steep stuff. That’s what I ride at home at Middle Hill. We built a track there similar with some huge jumps, which was the only one to ride. That track’s gone now, but that’s the stuff I really enjoy. At World Cups, it’s super serious. Everyone kind of keeps to themselves and their goal is to win. You’ve got lines spotters all over the track. You watch those guys – they know exactly what they’re doing – and they’ve got it dialed. If you want to win, that’s what you have to aim for. The sport is definitely changing. Downhill used to be more about just riding. There were heaps of different lines. Now, you can’t really do anything on the track that other teams don’t know about. Everyone’s basically on the same line on race day, which I think is a bit silly.
What’s it like having riders like Ronan and Ryan on the team this year, and what do you think you can learn from them heading into your first elite season?
We’re all pretty young, but those boys have done some really impressive things. Ronan trains completely differently from anyone else. He’s out there doing 15 laps a day, and no one else is doing that. Ryan trains super differently too. They both have different styles and, for me, I can just look at both of them, pick the bits I want, and learn from them. They’re also really willing to help, which is great. For me this year, I think the main focus is just getting some good consistency. Qualifying for every race would be a solid start. After that, we’ll see what needs to be worked on.
How do you see the current state of the New Zealand downhill scene, and what do you think is needed to take it to the next level?
I’m very disappointed, to be honest. This year has been pretty horrible. When I was under 15 and under 17, we used to have five or six national rounds, plus separate national champs. Now, we’ve had what, like one national round, Crankworx combined with national champs, and then the little Crankworx, which is a Continental race. So basically, we’ve only had three races. It’s pretty disappointing. I think they need to put a lot more work into it. I get that organising it all takes a toll and some people don’t want to deal with it. Having so many races played a big part in our age group’s success. The more you race, the more experience you get, and the better you become.
What advice would you give to young riders in New Zealand who want to focus their efforts on reaching the international level?
I think it’s really just about riding with your mates, having fun, and finding people who are faster and better (than you) so you can learn from them. You can get as much coaching as you like, but it doesn’t compare to actually going to races and experiencing it. No coach can really teach you how to deal with the nerves and all that. It’s just experience and time. Some people pick it up faster than others, but it’s all about sticking with it.
How does it feel to see Middle Hill gaining recognition, with more exposure and projects like the Vale line bringing attention to the local scene?
It’s pretty cool to see how much it’s grown. They started from nothing, maybe six or seven years ago? And now it’s really taken off. Right now, not many people are traveling, with the world, economy and everything, it’s tough. But hopefully we’ll start to see more people coming through, more pros visiting, and more events happening. It’s been awesome to be part of it. There weren’t many bikes coming through town before, but now they’re stopping, hanging around, and people are really frothing for more. That’s really cool to see. I think we really need to push for it to grow even more. If we can get a few more trails and properly put it on the map as a mountain bike destination, it could be huge. They’ve got a camp and everything you need. It’s such a good place for a weekend ride. Hopefully, we see more of that in the future.
Cheers for your time, Oli, and best of luck for the 2026 season. We’ll all be cheering you on!
Ride Camp: SRAM/RockShox
Words Liam Friary
Images Sven Martin & Callum Wood
One of the greatest advantages to being a mountain bike magazine owner and editor is, essentially, getting to do it all. It’s not a ‘real job’, and you get to ride some of the best products, bikes and locations in the world. However, there’s a lot more actual work that goes on behind the scenes. Of course, this isn’t your typical 9-to-5, and I wouldn’t want it to be.
When the call confirmed the rumours that the SRAM/RockShox media camp would be taking place in Queenstown early this year, I cleared my diary, did the chores, asked my wife nicely, and packed my bags. It’s not often we get a global bike media camp on our side of the world, and for the most part there’s been a lot less of them since the pandemic – often, they’re based in the northern hemisphere and, with budgets tightened in recent times, there’s frankly less dosh to throw about. I sound like a privileged dick at this point, but I don’t take this position lightly. I’m eternally grateful for all the ride experiences that have come via writing for this publication.
Often in the bike trade there’s not a lot of information passed around when these camps are announced – and that’s for a good reason, as most of these products aren’t going to be out in the wild for months. So, there’s a bit of blind patience when heading in. You know most things will be sorted, but above all else you’ll ride somewhere and probably have a bed, so you just have to have faith. After I departed from Auckland’s sprawl, coffee was served and the short flight from Auckland was a luxury compared to the long-haul flights for most of the other mountain bike editors and SRAM staff, who’d flown in from North America and Europe. I watched the landscape change as we headed south, and before I knew it, tussock mountains were being carefully navigated for the landing. Sheesh, the tourism machine doesn’t stop in Queenstown! I hustled through the crowd of people and waited for my oversized baggage to come out. Outside the airport, I met an editor from German Mountain Bike magazine, Chris Pauls, and we quickly got yarning about bikes, the industry, magazines, and all that. We loaded our gear into the shuttle van, ducked and weaved our way around traffic, and got dropped at a rather fancy house in Queenstown. I immediately noticed the garages were full of bikes, forks, shocks and parts, with a workshop tent out front. The crew greeted us, showed us our rooms, then we started building our bikes.
Nine new products. That’s why they needed a full media camp, and that number set the tone for what was ahead. Split across trail and DH, our focus was the trail riding lineup: new RockShox Zeb fork and Vivid shock, SRAM Maven brakes, Ochain, plus updates to the Rockshox Lyrik fork and Super Deluxe shock. We were asked to bring our own trail bikes, running whatever suspension we’d been on, which made for an honest baseline. The first day at Coronet Peak was a warm-up. At the base station, five degrees flashed in red above the chairlift. I jumped out of the van and zipped my jacket up to my chin. The mountains and most of the trails were completely buried in mist as we loaded onto the lift. Cutting laps on our current set-ups, no upgrades, just shaking off the jet lag for the European crew and getting a feel for the terrain. Thankfully the valley floor was warmer, and we could ditch the jackets for tee-shirts as the day went on. The trails did their job. Dirt Serpent, Rude Rock, Morning Glory and Hot Rod top to bottom had everyone frothing, most of them riding New Zealand dirt for the first time. There’s something about watching someone discover a trail they’ve never ridden before. The whoops coming out of the corners said everything. By the arvo, the sun was out in full force, and the endless mountain views made it hard to keep our attention on the trail. The party trains were long, the vibes were high, and back at the residence that evening we ate well, the Remarkables going pink then dark across the valley as we swapped stories about the day. A bloody good start.
The next day, the real work began. Into Queenstown Mountain Bike Park, Skyline Gondola spinning us up lap after lap on the same trails. The plan was straightforward: ride your own bike as is, swap the fork for the new RockShox Zeb, run a-b-a comparisons, then do the same for the rear shock. Clean, controlled, honest. And you need that familiarity, because the second you’re chasing feel on unfamiliar trails, the data falls apart. The old Lyrik was comfortable territory. The new Zeb wasn’t long on there before I was pushing harder than I probably should have. That’s exactly how you find out what a fork is made of, and how I ended up on the deck. A sit-out, head check, and a hand wrap from Flynn George, my SRAM first aid homie, and I was back into it after some food and a bit of downtime. Flynn is also the main person behind the O-Ring; his title is SRAM Product Manager, MTB Drivetrain. SRAM employees are like Swiss army knives, multiple hats always on the go. By the afternoon we were lapping in the dappled light, the Zeb clearly doing its thing, so we flipped the rear shock out for the Vivid Air and did a final lap with the full upgraded setup. The traction was there, the plushness was there, and the fork had that planted stiffness that lets you plough through technical terrain without second-guessing it. Bikes washed, beers served, I sat with it for a moment. The privilege of a day like that doesn’t escape you.
Back to the park the next morning, and something had shifted. The Skyline lifties were quizzing us each lap. They’d clocked the new gear and wanted to know all about it. But what I noticed more was the feeling on trail. The trails were familiar now in the best possible way, that comfortable aggression where you stop thinking and just ride. The small group of editors matched with SRAM staff spread out across the network, picking lines that pushed us, really asking questions of the suspension. The answers kept coming back good. It helped that I spent time riding and hanging with the RockShox Design Engineer, Denys Mayles, who had been making the new rear shocks for the last four years. His knowledge was extensive and is often applied to World Cup Downhill racers and teams, so having him talk about and dial in the tune was next level. Over dinner, I helped him sort out a legit South Island mountain bike road trip itinerary as his wife was flying out in a few days’ time. I think being able to meet the people behind the scenes, riding and hanging with them, is often overlooked in this digital age. In the end we go back to our own little worlds as mates, connected through bikes.
The day after, we crossed to Coronet Peak. Bags dumped at the base, straight into laps. Coronet has its own character. That was also true of Alex Rafferty, SRAM MTB Communications Manager, whose energy didn’t relent once. He was the general in charge of the whole affair and led us all without flustering. Boy, could he shred; without ego, which was true for staff and media on this camp, which was nice. A former cyclist competing in road and mountain biking, Alex is ingrained in the sport and developed an MTB leadership awards programme, a skills coaching company, and enduro events before joining SRAM. Coronet has exposure and flow in the same breath, ridge lines that drop away sharply enough to keep your attention, the kind of riding that reminds you why this corner of the South Island is something else. By afternoon, the crew had loosened into something more than a media group. People were calling lines for each other, waiting at trail junctions, riding like they’d known each other longer than a few days. The legs were heavy by the time we rolled back into town. Nobody mentioned an early night. In fact, Alex led us astray – well past midnight.
The next day dawned; I drew the curtains and felt a touch dusty but was thankful for the late night burger I’d scoffed before bed. The final day was something else entirely. We shuttled to the top of Coronet, with the Remarkables standing proudly in the early sun across the valley. From the chairlift at the top of Coronet, we dropped into Dirt Serpent, then Rude Rock, and finally into Pack, Track and Sack, which threaded our way down into the raw, exposed terrain of Skippers Canyon. The group was having fun as we pulled up at each junction to ensure riders didn’t get lost. In the valley, the midday heat was out in full force as we waited in the tussock field for a helicopter that would take us up to Bowen Peak. Already depleted from the long descent and the week’s riding, we yarned away while we waited for our lift to arrive. Wow, what a spectacular flight up to Bowen Peak! As we twisted in, out and above the mountains, the view was expansive; and as we got dropped on the peak, Lake Wakatipu was glistening in all its glory, shrouded by tall mountains. There, the real adventure began, lacing together epic singletrack descent into Ben Lomond’s Missing Link in one big alpine chunk, which was loose, committing, and relentlessly steep in sections. It demanded everything the suspension and brakes had given us all week and then some. Stitching all these trails together was all-time and with each one you grew in confidence. My only gripe was a sore hand from my earlier crash but that was all my own fault. We traversed, then started pedalling across to the Fernhill Loop, buried in the lush eech forest, before dropping into BluGazi as the final descent into Queenstown. It was a 2,400-metre descent that none of us will forget quickly. We rolled into Atlas still dusty, still buzzing, and thoroughly earned every beer that followed. Some weeks of work are harder to leave behind than others.
Of course, the camp was for all the new products, and that’s why we were there. But, for me, whilst the riding was great and perhaps one of my best weeks, it was more about the people I met on the camp. All of us editors, journalists, YouTubers and others work from our little corners, basements, offices, and try to ride as much as possible, but we don’t tend to interact with one another much. We all have a huge passion for bikes and media, so it’s nice to spend time and learn from one another, as most of the ups and downs we face are somewhat similar. The SRAM/ RockShox staff and product managers were all a pleasure to hang with, and their utmost passion for riding bikes shone through in every aspect. It wasn’t just the marketing managers spouting off about the new product; it was the people that had spent years in research and development bringing these products to market. They knew them inside out and had lived and breathed the product cycle for eons – and, of course, they’re already onto the next product. Watch this space!
Finding Balance
Words Liam Friary
Image Cameron Mackenzie
For me, the act of getting into the outdoors is more about self-preservation than anything else. I do my best to limit the amount of digital media and news I consume – but shit, there are a few things that aren’t in balance at present.
I find the balance can be restored by riding bikes in the outdoors – or anything else that takes me outside, for that matter. Sometimes I’m alone but more often than not I’m with others. Being with other people can help you unravel the mess in your head. I did this recently and found that talking candidly whilst pedalling a push bike is quite satisfying. As they say, “a problem shared is a problem halved”. These bike chats are often far-flung, like some of the places we ride. I’m grateful to those people whose ear I chew off whilst they’re trying to enjoy a mountain bike ride.
This happened recently, down in Rotorua. On the way down, I sent Gaz a message and said I’d be in town for a few days and could ride either that afternoon or the next morning. He immediately responded and said; “tomorrow morning looks good. Or both!” A few exchanges later, the last message read: “Let me know as soon as you get here.” I pulled up at Waipa, threw on my gear, got my bike out and Gaz arrived ready to ride. We started talking immediately and didn’t stop for the two-hour ride nor post-ride beers. I think we both solved the world’s problems, but probably mainly our internal thoughts, during that session. I put my rooftop tent up in the dark, ate a wrap filled with tuna, and turned in happy to not speak again for a moment. The next morning, the same programme followed but we replaced beers with coffee. I pulled away feeling quite cooked from the ride but like a weight had been lifted. The ride exhausted me physically, and the chats helped me clear space mentally. There’s something about doing completing a hard task that allows the mind to be open. Perhaps it’s the uninterrupted space that comes from it or the stimulus when thinking about the line choice in front of you. But whatever it is, I need more of it. The balance often gets out of kilter, but for me it’s about going back to the basics of outdoor pursuits, with mates.
Revel Ritual
Words Max Hides
Images Cameron Mackenzie
RRP $13,099
Distributor Revel Bikes
It’s not too often you get the chance to ride something genuinely unfamiliar; a bike you’ve never seen in the carpark, let alone thrown a leg over. When the call came in to review Revel’s Ritual, a quick Google image search was swiftly replaced with baited clock-watching as the hours until I could finally hit the trails wound down.
Whilst Revel may not be a name you’ve heard thrown around much in the local scene, that’s all about to change. After a turbulent few years, the Colorado-based brand has reset with purpose, is back under original ownership and is ready to push forward. With a strong line-up of nononsense bikes spanning everything from shorttravel pedallers through to long-travel electricallyassisted options, it won’t be long before we see more of them floating around our local trails.
The Ritual is Revel’s long-travel, enduro-ready brawler. It’s their biggest and most capable machine in the range. Boasting 170mm of travel up front and 165mm in the rear, it immediately screams confidence, and that feeling continues once you’re on trail, especially as the gradient tips down and the track comes to life.
Whilst I try not to judge a book by its cover, it’s hard not to take notice of the Ritual the moment you lay hands on it. The test bike arrived in Revel’s ‘Space X’ colourway, and while it could be dismissed as just another black bike, it’s actually a split-tone metallic black and raw carbon combo that catches the light beautifully, highlighting the quality of the build throughout.
At 183cm, I regularly find myself caught between sizes. I tend to go slightly smaller when in doubt, but I can move an XL around without too much issue. This Ritual was an XL, and whilst it looked imposing standing still, once aboard it fitted my long, lanky build surprisingly well. Worth noting: Revel only offer the Ritual in a full 29” configuration for Large frames and above. Small and Medium frames come as a mullet setup (29” front, 27” rear), and there’s no cross-compatibility between the two – Revel are clear on their website that converting larger frames to mullet will void your warranty.
Geometry & Suspension
Revel haven’t gone crazy with the geometry here, which I think is entirely the right call given the intended use. The numbers on the XL are sensible and well-considered: a 64-degree head angle, 77-degree seat tube angle, 508mm reach, 1298mm wheelbase and 441mm chainstays. On paper it sounds like a big bike, and it is, but it’s a balanced one.
The suspension design centres on a horizontally mounted shock housed in the middle of the frame, part of what Revel call their CBF (Conforming Body Frame) pivot system. Unlocked, it pedals with minimal bob; locked into climb mode, it’s rock solid. It’s no XC bike, but it sure as hell climbs like one. Open the shock back up and blast down something steep, and the bike becomes planted, controlled, and almost eerily stable in the rough. The suspension design is executed so well that even with zero setup dialled in, the first lap down Spudz’s at Victoria Park had nothing coming out of my mouth but laughter.
Frame & Build Quality
The bikes are built with durability firmly in mind, designed to go the distance whether you’re a weekend warrior, a park rat, or an enduro racer. The fully carbon frame is lightweight yet strong, and Revel haven’t cut corners on the pivots. It’s all alloy down there, built burly and stiff with longevity in mind. Given how grim a Christchurch winter can get, the quality bearing protection is a strong play.
Size-specific chainstays across the range means each frame size gets a suspension tune matched to its geometry, so everyone – regardless of size – gets a balanced ride. And, in a nice practical touch, every bike in the range comes with inframe storage, so you can stash a jacket, tools, or a bag of lollies for those longer days out.
The Ritual is also dual-crown compatible for those who are park inclined, with the only caveat being that the axle-to-crown measurement can’t exceed 596mm. Setting this up singlespeed with a dual crown and smashing laps with your mates sounds like an absolutely brilliant time.
Build Kit
The test bike was the second-tier build, not the flagship, but still very well specced. It came kitted out with a RockShox Zeb Ultimate fork and Vivid Ultimate rear shock, SRAM XO Transmission, Maven Silver brakes, DT Swiss carbon wheels, Maxxis tyres, and OneUp/Revel finishing kit. One standout feature across all three complete builds is that every single one comes with the top-of-the-line RockShox Zeb fork and Vivid Air rear shock. So regardless of which build you go for, the suspension is sorted. At $13,175 NZD for the second-tier build, it’s well priced relative to the competition.
For those not sold on the complete builds, Revel also offer the Ritual as a frameset only, including the RockShox Vivid Ultimate rear shock, FSA Orbit headset and seat clamp, so you can build it up exactly how you want. Helpfully, Revel have also left cable ports in the frame for those not ready to commit to electronic shifting. Your old 11-speed XT gathering dust in the garage? It’ll slot right in.
Components
This was my first time back on the full SRAM/ RockShox package since 2020 and whilst we all want to forget that year, I was excited to run the new stuff. The Maven Silver brakes are, without question, the most powerful brakes I’ve ridden; one squeeze and you’re stopped, before you’ve even fully committed to the idea. The trade-off is modulation, which is noticeably lacking. For context, the Code RSC’s I ran back in 2017 had some of the best brake feel I’ve experienced; the Mavens are a step back in that regard. SRAM have since released a lever upgrade kit to address this, which is worth looking into if you’re after more nuance.
The XO Transmission groupset is, as the name suggests, like having AI in your drivetrain: exceptional when it’s working, frustrating when it isn’t. I had a few teething issues early on but once resolved, the shifting was seamless. Personally, I’d spec the Eagle 90 option – Revel offer this as an alternative build configuration on their website, and if I were buying, that’s the route I’d take.
I’ll always have a soft spot for DT Swiss wheels, and the XMC 1501 carbon wheelset doesn’t disappoint. Stiff but compliant, laced to a pair of 240EXP hubs, smooth, reliable, and they sound great. Paired with a Maxxis Minion DHF and DHR II in EXO+ casing, it’s a confidence-inspiring combo when things get loose and loamy. Revel’s in-house grips and stem, paired with a OneUp alloy bar, give a solid feel at the contact points. For a tall rider, the specced 240mm OneUp dropper post is a welcome touch – getting the seat well out of the way on descents makes a real difference.
The Ride
The Ritual rides at one speed, and that speed is flat out. It wants you to pin it, hit everything with conviction, and trust the bike to sort itself out underneath you. Fast and loose, but never out of control or, rather, being just on the edge of control while everything still feels weirdly perfect.
Living in Christchurch, we’re spoilt for good terrain. Christchurch Adventure Park, Victoria Park, Craigieburn, we’ve got a heap of options. On the trails I know best, the Ritual felt right at home from the first ride. The steep, tight, fast lines around town that can punish a bike with too long a wheelbase just felt smooth and composed. The weight, too, was a surprise, for an XL enduro rig, it’s substantially lighter than my own bike, and that matters over a full day in the hills.
On a few of my regular loops in Christchurch and Craigieburn, I found myself riding up more than I normally would, the geometry places you in a great climbing position, and the CBF suspension design keeps pedalling efficient without feeling dead. Lock out the shock on longer fire road climbs and it pedals away. The inner grom in me got well and truly awakened on the descents, jumping everything, taking high lines, riding faster than I have in years without once feeling like the bike was going to spit me off.
My only real gripes with the package are minor. The stock grips are a bit rough and on the thin side. Only being able to fit a small drink bottle is a real consideration – if I’m spending a full day out pedalling, I’m going to be a thirsty human. The bars are a touch wide stock, but that’s a two-minute fix. If I were buying this for myself, I’d size down to the Large, opt for the Eagle 90 build, and spec up to DT Swiss carbon wheels.
Final Thoughts
My main takeaway from time on the Ritual is that it has opened my mind to what a modern enduro bike is capable of. For a long time, I’ve held the view that 140/120mm is all you need around Canterbury, and that a lot of it is in the bike’s geometry. Boy, was I wrong. The Ritual has proven that big travel can equal big fun, when it’s packaged in something this efficient, this light, and this capable across varied terrain.
Whilst the drivetrain gave me a few headaches along the way, I could absolutely see the Ritual earning a permanent spot in my fleet. A bike that can comfortably handle all-day epics, satisfy long-suppressed enduro ambitions, and still climb as well as many short-travel bikes I’ve loved? That’s a compelling offer. It’s the perfect N+1 for the confused bike-a-holic. When you’re next in the market for an enduro rig, put the Ritual on your radar. I’ll be saving my pennies for a frameset and maybe, just maybe, I’ll come out of enduro retirement to do it justice.
Specialized Turbo Levo R Comp
Words Georgia Petrie
Images Cameron Mackenzie
RRP $13,900
Distributor Specialized NZ
The past few years have been an interesting time in the eBike market. There’s been somewhat of an assumption that those who want full power and big batteries want as much as travel as they can get their hands on.
But what if you don’t fancy the idea of riding bum-clenching terrain every time you get on your bike, however, still want the power and battery capacity to rip ten different intermediate trails after work, or a backcountry weekend mission? A beast like Specialized’s Levo 4 offers all that, but it’s more travel than most people likely need.
Until now, short travel eMTBs have largely fallen into two camps: the SL (Superlight) category; boasting light builds, but often limited by their battery capacity – or the value category; which offers up more range by way of bigger batteries, but often comes with heavier, less refined components.
This gap in the market makes a strong case for a shorter travel eMTB that keeps the benefits of a powerful motor and large battery, while being lighter, nimbler, and more responsive. Why opt for a sporty seven-seater when a hot hatch would meet your needs just as well?
Cue the Specialized Levo R, pairing 130mm of rear travel and a 140mm fork with the same full-power motor and battery system as it’s big brother, the Levo 4. The R stands for ‘Rally’, alluding to the bike’s nimble, playful and agile nature, and its release caught me surprise. This is the type of bike people tend to overlook in favour of more travel because, “why not?”. When in reality, this is exactly the type of bike most people need, and I think it’ll be a huge hit with the majority of riders.
It’s “just right”, hitting the sweet spot of having “just enough” travel to point you down even the most demanding singletrack, and “more than enough” battery and power to tackle anything, from after-work hot laps to backcountry overnighters.
eBike & Frame Features
The Levo R Comp is powered by Specialized’s fresh-to-market 3.1 motor. The release of this motor was highly anticipated, and for good reason: this thing is no joke, thanks to a recent over-the-air firmware update, offering a hefty 105Nm of torque and 850W of peak power. Paired with a whopping 840Wh removable battery, this is a seriously grunty package. There’s a range of different battery configurations on offer too – a smaller, lighter 600Wh battery and a 280Wh range extender, which can be used either alongside a battery or on its own for those days where you still want to get your riding fix, without the weight penalty.
When paired with the 840Wh battery, that’s a massive 1,120Wh total battery capacity. This is a huge amount of grunt that rivals the likes of Bosch’s Perfomance Line CX, sporting 100Nm torque + 750W peak power, and runs very close to Avinox’s M1 system, which sports 120Nm of torque and a peak power output of 1000W. When it comes to weight, the 3.1 motor comes in at 2.9kg, which is a touch heavier than the Performance Line CX at side at 2.9kg and the Avinox at 2.5kg.
After spending some time on a range of different drive units, my initial reaction to the 3.1 drive unit was, well, nothing…! The motor is so quiet, I had to do a double take to make sure it was even working when I set off on an after-work lap. Power delivery is exceptionally smooth, and the ‘jerk’ you often feel when you put the power down on high-torque drive units has been replaced with a much more gradual propulsion which feels far more natural, and commensurate with the feeling of pedalling an acoustic bike, which was a pleasant surprise. It’s quite a different feel to Bosch’s Performance Line CX, which I’ve found to require a little more modulation on behalf of the rider to achieve the same level of gradual power delivery.
Once on the gas, the bike has absolutely no shortage of power, and it’s important to note that in New Zealand this bike has a top speed of 45kph, unlike other full power eMTBs which top out at 32kph. I felt this was a massive benefit to the Levo R, particularly as between its travel and weight combination, it’d make an excellent touring or adventure bike.
Commuting back home, or along the tops of the Port Hills to access more trail was a dream due to the combination of motor power, seemingly endless battery range and fast-rolling chassis. Range anxiety was out of the question with the 840Wh battery, particularly if you’re able to use Eco mode for the majority of the ride.
Similar to its predecessor, the motor has three power modes – Eco, Trail and Turbo. Each mode offers its own limitless scope of customisation, meaning the rider can tune each mode to their preferred ratio of support to peak power. Your preferred mode will depend on the terrain you ride, and the nature of your climbs. For us here in Christchurch, much of our climbing is on either sealed or dirt fire roads, with less emphasis on technical singletrack, so I found that 70% of my ride was spent climbing in Eco, and tended to toggle between Trail and Turbo depending upon how steep of an incline I’d encounter.
Specialized lead the charge when it came to top-tube displays with their previous generation Mastermind TCU, and the new iteration seen on the Levo R builds on that foundation. As expected, the updated MasterMind TCU provides an excellent user experience and is a welcome progression from the previous generation, with the extensive 2.2” high resolution screen offering an extensive range of data display options for riders. These can be fully customised via the Specialized App and toggled between via the handlebar remote, depending upon the key data points you’re wanting to highlight.
If you’re an Apple Watch user like me, the integration is superb – the App is available across both devices and connects with Apple FindMy, Strava and Apple Health seamlessly, which is a cleverly thought-out design feature. The remote itself took a moment to get used to, especially toggling between modes by flicking a switchlike mechanism as opposed to buttons. It took a couple of times accidentally dropping into Eco mode instead of Turbo on a few pinchy climbs to learn which way was up. My only gripe is that the remote is wired, which is a little out-of-theordinary in 2026 relative to competitors, bringing clutter to an otherwise clean wireless cockpit.
Like it’s big brother, the Levo R comes equipped with SWAT downtube storage, which is a feature that only Specialized have managed to incorporate into eMTB frames so far. Having had frame storage on my acoustic bike for the past few years, this is a welcome feature, especially given the bike’s potential to take your rides further afield.
Another special mention goes to the SWAT tool that’s integrated into the frame’s steerer tube. I’m a huge fan of steerer tube mounted tools for quick fix access on the trails and would always install one on my new bikes, so this is a welcome addition and a nice value-add feature. The bike also comes with Specialized’s stock 4amp charging unit which takes around three hours to charge the 840Wh battery to 80%, with the option to purchase a smart charger, charging the battery from zero to 80% in less than 60 minutes.
Climbing
Straight away, you can tell that the Levo R’s geometry favors pedalling efficiency; it’s a comfortable climber that took very little in the way of setup to align with my ideal bike fit. The steep seat angle and 29” wheels paired with fast-rolling Purgatory tyres made for excellent forward propulsion, meaning the bike maintained rolling speed well on flatter terrain and kept its speed superbly over punchy, technical ascents. Despite sharing the same drive unit, this is what really sets the Levo R apart from the Levo 4 and positions it quite uniquely in the eMTB market. It’s noticeably snappier on the climbs and feels quicker across the board.
That lively, responsive feel is further enhanced by the Fox Float Genie shock. The Genie’s performance was immediately noticeable, particularly on technical singletrack climbs. The shock remains active over small trail chatter, reacting to bumps like loose rocks, roots and holes, while still firming up enough to preserve efficiency and momentum. The Levo R delivers a level of nimbleness on climbs that longer travel, full-power eMTBs often struggle to match. I couldn’t help but smile as I rolled past riding mates on 170mm, gravity-focused bikes.
I didn’t find myself fighting to keep the front wheel grounded, even navigating the steepest of Christchurch’s pinchiest fire road climbs. The Levo R was my first experience using Fox’s new 36 SL Performance fork, and it remained stout on steep pitches without needing to reach for the lockout functionality. I did hit the limits of the Purgatory tyres on a couple of switchbacks due to the reduced sidewall grip relative to Specialized’s burlier tyre offerings, such as the Butcher or Eliminator. However, given the type of terrain the Levo R will favour, I do feel that I’d ultimately value the superior rolling capability of the Purgatory over increased grip, so this wasn’t a major.
The medley of SRAM’s price-focused GX/ S1000 components performed reliably under load albeit a little “clunky” at times, though that’s to be expected when trying to keep up with such a powerful drive unit. The derailleur is wired into the bike’s battery, alleviating the hassle of remembering to ensure your batteries are charged, although it does mean that should your battery run out of juice, so too will your derailleur, and you’ll inadvertently have yourself a singlespeed for the commute home.
Contact points are of course subjective, but I think I won’t be alone in saying I’d have appreciated a more compliant or in simple terms, soft, saddle. Particularly given the emphasis this may have on climbing, this was up there with one of the harshest out-of-the-box saddles I’ve ever used. I also felt that 800mm width bars was overkill and makes more sense on bikes with a more gravity-oriented focus, like the Levo 4.
On Christchurch Adventure Park’s technical uphill trail, I opted for Trail/Turbo the majority of the climb, with Turbo providing more than ample horsepower for tight, technical switchbacks, delivered in a way that was gradual enough to still retain control and weight over the front wheel.
Range testing is always an interesting one, because this largely depends on a range of factors, namely; rider weight, terrain and preferred ratio of support relative to effort. For me, even after climbing almost 1000m, including a 30-minute climb almost exclusively using Turbo, I still had 70% battery left at the top of the hill.
I often find that the more efficient and intuitive a motor is at delivering power, the less likely you are to require mode toggling and therefore preserve battery draw. Walk mode, which was fiddly to activate on the remote’s prior iteration, has been made significantly easier to access and provides a subtle push when needed, which is a pleasant change to the walk modes you see on other drive units which have a tendency to overdo the power delivery and pull your arms out of their sockets. The motor is also whisper quiet, giving off only the slightest hum even under load.
All-in-all, the Levo R is a superb climber, striking a near perfect balance between comfort and efficiency.
Descending
Before you say “but 140mm of travel isn’t enough for me”, I can assure you the Levo R punches well above its weight. Make no mistake, this is a capable descender that blurs the line between short-travel efficiency and big-bike confidence. Thanks to the fast-rolling tyres, 29” configuration and active suspension platform, the Levo R is quick to pick up speed and maintains it well, particularly on blue flow trails. The bike didn’t get hung up on small bumps or undulations, tracking reliably through chattery terrain and holding its line impressively well, in a way that requires less rider effort relative to longer travel eMTB’s. Make no mistake, this isn’t a burly 170mm travel beast that’s eager to tackle steep, double black trails, but it holds its own on technical blue trails, and I was pleasantly suprised at just how composed, stable and planted it was when my curiosity got the better of me and I gave it a crack descending steeper terrain, above its paygrade.
Thanks to the low bottom bracket coupled with a relatively long wheelbase, your weight is nicely centred at all times, offering a level of stability that far exceeds what you’d expect from a 130mm bike. The head angle is what I’d call “just right” – slack enough to remain pointed at high speed and when the gradient steepens on descents, but without compromised climbing capability – which, in my opinion, is the beauty of the 130mm travel range.
So far, my experience with 140mm travel bikes is limited to those specc’d with a Rockshox Pike or a Fox 34. The 36 SL was a highlight of the Levo R, greatly elevating the descending experience for bikes in this class; and, in particular, for eMTB’s, due to its stiff chassis. The fork made the bike a delight to descend on, remaining composed on rough terrain, under heavy breaking, and stout through braking bumps and those classic Christchurch rocks that really show their teeth in the depths of summer. It does a great job handling the weight of an eMTB and the damper is lively, working hard to offer great sensitivity on small bumps that you wouldn’t usually have on bikes of this travel and weight.
The rear end was equally impressive too. My experience with Genie shocks so far has been on longer travel Specialized bikes, and whilst I’ve been left feeling so-so about its performance in that segment, I think the Genie really shines on the Levo R due to its active nature and high-volume mid stroke. Thanks to its unique two-stage air chamber design, the rear end sits high in the travel and continues to provide support even once you near the end of the stroke, providing ample stability and reactivity.
Whilst I was suitably impressed with the bike’s suspension performance, I did feel these gains were negated at times by certain contact points, especially coupled with the bike’s weight. In theory, I can understand the rationale behind specc’ing SRAM’s Motive Bronze brakes. The Levo R identifies as light weight and nimble, and the Motive is positioned as well suited for a bike of this nature and travel.
In practice, there were multiple occasions where I felt like I was maxing out the brakes and, as a result, I’d start to lose the supple suspension feel as myself and the bike began stiffening up in an attempt to slow the bike down. This is compounded by the fact that the more the gradient points you downhill, the more the bike’s weight makes itself known, tending to propel you forward at a rate of knots, requiring you to drag the brakes in an effort to keep things under some level of control. I can’t help but feel that a bigger brake, such as SRAM’s Maven may have been a more suitable choice for a 22+ kg bike. Again though, given the target market, the Motive will likely be adequate.
Although the Levo R excels on wide-open, flowing trails, when the trail narrows and corners tighten up, the high front end combined with the full 29” wheeled setup can leave you feeling a little detached from the bike. My personal preference would be for an optional mullet configuration to cater for riders who are keen to retain a sense of nimbleness and reactivity when cornering; however, the decision for full 29” is understandable when considering the bike’s emphasis on efficiency, particularly when climbing.
Whilst efficient on the ascents, the long wheelbase can make for cumbersome cornering, and I found myself working hard to steer the bike round tighter switchbacks, particularly when coupled with the effort required to slow the bike down.
The chainstays can be altered using a twoposition flip chip, allowing you to switch the length between 441 mm (short) and 447 mm (long) which helps retain some sense of agility on tighter trails, though these are still almost 10mm longer than the likes of the Stumpjumper 15, which seems a little contradictory considering the Levo R’s “rally” concept.
While touchpoints are certainly subjective, I couldn’t fault Specialized’s bread-and-butter offerings, with 40mm rise bars and 50mm stem providing ample comfort and confidence on the descents. The X-Fusion Manic dropper post performed without issue, and I was pleasantly surprised at how trusting the Purgatory tyres were, particularly in Christchurch’s marbley dust. Lastly, the carbon chassis on our test bike was among the stiffest I’d ridden, which is on-par with many Specialized frames I’ve ridden in the past; however, as expected, it was balanced with comfort, affording compliance on the descents without adding harshness.
Final Thoughts
The Levo R creates a very strong case that there’s a gap in the market for shorter travel, full power eBikes – those that retain all the benefits of a big battery and powerful drive unit without the weight, and offer a more lively, nimble ride experience. I think this bike will appeal to a vast range of riders, and indeed it is the bike that many should realistically be on. Just because you can get more travel with the likes of the Levo 4, doesn’t necessarily mean you should.
After all, it’s easy to forget that whilst you and your mates might want an eBike that can do anything from sending jump lines to threading needles on the steeps of double black trails, this doesn’t exactly echo the wish list of your everyday rider, and that’s where the Levo R fills the current void of short travel and full power options. It’s hard to think of another brand catering for this market, and Specialized have certainly created a one-of-a-kind bike that creates a compelling case for full power eMTBs in this travel range.
With its confidence-inspiring downhill capability coupled with buttery-smooth power delivery on the climbs, the Levo R is a particularly strong option for those newer to mountain biking, and even more so, those seeking to branch into the world of eMTBs. Having said that, I do feel that perhaps Specialized have come up with a concept that’s for everybody and nobody all at once – it’s too little bike for the quintessential enduro rider, but lacks the weight savings and therefore nimbleness to meet the needs of an “all-rounder” trail rider.
The geometry and weight creates a smaller gap than one would expect between the Levo R and its Levo 4 big brother, so for me personally it’d be hard to justify the Levo R when I could have more travel and a mullet configuration for very little weight penalty, whilst retaining the same amount of power. That said, I think for many riders the Levo R will be the logical choice with its user-friendly power system and the advantages that quicker handling and nimble geometry offers.
Sobering Experience
Words & Image Gaz Sullivan
There was probably some fatigue left over from the previous Saturday, for a start. I had taken on a lap of Lake Taupō for no good reason except that it was officially my 25th edition. Once again, I discovered that a year spent crawling up fire roads on a 50-tooth sprocket and free-wheeling down trails is no preparation for 100 miles on a road bike.
I should have figured that out by now, but the other thing I am slow to accept is that every year I make that mistake, I am a year older than I was the previous time. And as those years accumulate, each one has a bigger effect on everything to do with riding bikes than the one that preceded it.
On race day, I stayed alive by not even trying to keep up with anybody. But that makes the ride take a lot longer than once upon a time, and six-plus hours plugging along the road, mostly solo, makes a dent in the physical reserves that no amount of after-match cakes will replenish. Believe me, I tested that concept.
I got back on a bike a few days after the big road outing and was predictably lame. I was in a similar state a few days after that.
By the weekend, I figured I had eaten enough and been horizontal for long enough to have a reasonably full gas tank. It was a beautiful day, and I left the van with a plan: to crawl up some hills on a 50-tooth sprocket and free-wheel down some trails, repeating as long as possible.
After my second climb, I was more than likely ready to go home, but the native forest at the top of my local was calling me. I had not been up there in way too long. Just before embarking on the best part of the ascent (a singletrack climb – rare in these parts), I spotted a couple of people gazing at one of the spaghetti-like Rotorua trail maps that are guaranteed to confuse anybody.
I will use any excuse to stop pedalling uphill, so I went and asked them if they knew where they were going. They were a mother and daughter on eBikes, visiting from central California, with only a vague idea of where to go. I made some recommendations I thought were suitable and resumed my climb.
The women passed me about ten minutes later, not far from the top of the uphill trail. I don’t know what happened to them immediately after that, but they beetled past me again on the final humiliating grind that must be endured by riders before entering the native.
My plan had been to start going downhill from there, down the majestic Tihi-O-Tawa, and continue downhill until I was back at the vehicle. However, trying to explain the trail we call Tuhoto Ariki and its new addition was too hard for my sweaty brain, so I said, “Follow me”.
They were not fast, but they were having a lot of fun tackling the surprisingly wet and root- strewn trail. I am sure they have some great mountain biking back in sunny Cal, but it will not be much like the jungle we have at the top of the forest. There was a lot of laughter coming through the bush as I waited in various spots so we could regroup. We emerged from the jungle to a clearcut that happened last summer, and there is already a really nice climb to a drop-dead view at the top.
‘Drop-dead’ is probably a little too accurate, given my state by the time I got there. Firstly, because I had now completed two decent climbs beyond what I had bargained for, and secondly, because I had executed them at as much pace as I could manage while maintaining a straight face, given the whirring of eBike motors right behind me.
The views, the amazing stack of lenticular clouds coming off the central plateau, the potted history of the Tarawera eruption I trotted out once I could string three words together, even the howling wind that likely made my discourse inaudible, all these things were absorbed with gratitude by the women before we took off down the excellent trail that has been constructed to get off the ridge.
It is a real gem – narrow, tight turns, things to jump over if you are into that, but totally rollable if you are me. We got to the bottom and the first thing the daughter yelled was “Sick!” Hooting at her mother, who arrived in one piece and still grinning, she was very excited about the whole jungle to ridgeline to plunge, and it seemed selfish not to show them some more.
So, we dropped into Te Ahi Manawa. For my money, it is one of the best trails in the whole joint. There are more difficult trails, but I don’t ride them. My skillset lets me have fun on trails like this one, with little real risk of much going wrong. The way I do it (slowly), if things do go pear shaped, I’m able to meet the earth in a dignified manner and get up shaken but intact. So far anyway. There are several little sections that demand my full attention, and I can get through with something approaching panache, and to be honest doing that occasionally is maybe what gets me out in the woods on a bike.
As I suspected, Te Ahi hit the spot with the visitors. In fact, it registered “sick” again on the general coolness scale. But also, it was that stage of the day when my turkey timer was starting to rattle. We took another couple of low trails back to civilisation, at which point I could tell my day was well and truly done.
The girls were still in great shape and looking for some more trails. Big batteries in the downtube will do that. I gave them the best instructions I could manage and left them to it.
I got home and had a shower, some lunch and an unusually late coffee. Then I sat down to read my book. Legs were throbbing in that position, so I moved to the bed. Getting horizontal felt slightly better, but I immediately lost track of whatever the hell I was trying to read. Within fifteen minutes, I was asleep. That lasted a couple hours, and I was not much use for anything when I regained consciousness. We spent Sunday doing not much, especially in my case. We did walk down a flight of stairs to get to a beach, and the return climb hurt.
Five years ago, I decided the time had come to get an eBike so becoming a basket case after a moderately big day out would be less likely. I still haven’t got one, but I can feel it coming.
Once burned, twice shy
Words & Image Lester Perry
Thirty-two years later, the same lessons apply. When I was around 13, I was into making all sorts of things. I always had a project of some kind on the go; lots didn’t get completed, some did.
Some were bike-related, some weren’t. One non-bike-related project I got stuck into was a flying fox from the second-storey back deck of our house. I gathered supplies from the shed: a coil of blue and white rope, some off-cuts of wood and some nails that weren’t long enough.
First up, I had to assemble the flying fox itself – pretty much an upside-down capital ‘T’ to sit on. Picture a T bar on a ski field: this was where I’d be sitting when I zipped my way in a completely safe, controlled fashion down to the fence. I’d fashioned a wooden rectangle on the top of the ‘T’ where the rope would go; no need for a pulley – pine on rope should be plenty slippery.
The rope was tied off to the fence; I walked the other end up the back stairs to the deck, where I threaded the rope through the rectangular end of the ‘T’, looped it around the banister, pulled it as tight as I could and tied it off. Good to go.
Getting over the handrail and onto the flying fox proved difficult but, eventually, I managed to get myself over the railing with one hand holding the ‘T’ between my legs and one hand on the railing. I was ready to go. Dropping! Drop I did. The top of my wooden rectangle pulled free as soon as my weight was on it, and I fell to the ground, landing with a thud on my back and knocking the wind out of me bad enough that I was sure I was about to die of suffocation. I recall my dad walking out onto the deck to see what was happening, looking down at me on my back with my legs and arms flailing like a cockroach stuck on its back, and yelling to him that I’d broken my back.
Obviously, I didn’t die, and – miraculously – I didn’t break anything aside from my flying fox. I learned a lesson, though; even if something looks like it should be ok and safe to use, that doesn’t necessarily mean it is. I’ve lived by this motto for thirty-odd years, and it’s kept me mostly safe. From avoiding pinch points while riding in traffic and steering clear of erratic riders in a peloton, to staying away from parts that aren’t from reputable brands and even avoiding secondhand pieces that have a history or background I’m unsure of. Largely, I’ve played it safe throughout my cycling life, that is, until I made what could have been a costly mistake. Having sworn I’d never buy a bike part thats function, or lack thereof, could cause me serious injury, I’ve played it safe until recently, when my curiosity got the better of me.
A friend showed me his brand-new stem; it had the perfect combination of drop and length. I’d been hunting for something just like this for ages. He told me where I could get one too, for just $75, and sent me a link to the AliExpress website. I was dubious, but he’d been riding his for three months and knew others who had them too. The Ali reviews were glowing. Seems legit, I thought, maybe this stem is made in China, then shipped to Europe, where the brand sells it on the fact it’s made there? Must be the case.
This stem was destined for my cross-country race bike and, after a few rides, I was proper stoked – it did what it should and hadn’t broken. Yet. One morning, while in Rotorua, I dropped in to No Brains, the first trail of what was to be a big day on the bike. Down the first section, then up a small rise, up out of the saddle, I pulled on the bars a little and…. CRACK! Handlebars go loose, and I quickly put my feet down to stop.
The stem had cracked through the front, and although the handlebars were now completely loose, fortunately, it hadn’t completely ejected out the front or I would have ended up on my face with my hands still holding the grips. I’m thankful I was going uphill when the stem let go, and that I wasn’t under full compression off a drop or down a steep chute; the results could have been dire. Sure, this happened on a mountain bike, but it could have been any bike and, really, any bike part. If I had maimed myself, what comeback would I have had? None, I’d say. The manufacturer would continue to sell the stem and others may end up learning, or in my case, re-learning a hard lesson.
Sure, you can build a bike for super cheap. Sure, heaps of other people have done it and lived to tell the tale – but is it really worth the risk? I’ll happily buy random knick-knacks online, and even non-crucial bike parts are all fair game, but anything that puts me at risk? No dice.
The old adage that, “if something seems too good to be true, it probably is” really rings true. A stem that’s crazy light and has exactly the features and dimensions I need for just $75? Yep, too good to be true.
Be wary out there.
Giro Montaro III Mips
Words Lester Perry
Images Thomas Falconer
RRP $299
Distributor Worralls
I was excited to get my head into this new Giro Montaro III Mips helmet. Before receiving it, I’d seen some pics online and thought it looked pretty decent and ticked the necessary boxes for me to select a helmet.
The trail-focused Montaro III is almost a complete revision of the hugely popular, but ageing, previous edition, uniquely named the Montaro II. This new version certainly draws inspiration from other helmets in the Giro range and, dare I say it, from other brands. Although I poke fun, the result is a unique overall silhouette. I’m sure it won’t be for everyone, but when it comes to helmets, one seldom suits all.
There’s plenty of coverage on offer, and the helmet feels like your head goes some ways into it, meaning it comes relatively low towards the ears and back of the head. Internally, there’s a Mips Evolve Core, which is a refreshed version of the Mips slip plane liner. During an angled impact, the sliding action between the Mips layer and the impact-absorbing outer shell helps dampen rotational forces and, therefore, reduce neck and brain injuries (at least according to Mips). In the case of the Montaro III, the Mips shell doesn’t significantly affect breathability or airflow through the vents, unlike the earlier Mips liner system.
Giro’s Roc Loc tensioning system gives users a micro-adjustable fit via its dial tensioner and vertically adjustable tensioning cradle. The visor is vertically adjustable through two fixed positions. When in the highest position, there’s plenty of room for a pair of glasses to be holstered in the front vents. Most glasses will slide comfortably into the rear vents, too, so whichever place you prefer to stow them, you’ll find a solution on the Montaro. The helmet plays nicely with goggles, too. A rubberised section on the rear helps keep a goggle strap in place, and there’s ample room below the front of the helmet so goggles don’t get squeezed downwards on most faces. However, I do wonder if this may happen on smaller faces with large goggles – something to consider if you’re an open-face helmet goggle wearer.
Keeping the lid in place is a FIDLOCK V-BUCKLE, something I miss on helmets without it now. This magnetic wonder is a single-hand quick release and even securing it can be done with one hand with the proper technique and some practice.
On the trail
I find the fit of the Montaro is pretty good on my head – not the best I’ve worn, but one of the better. It seems the low-profile, sparse padding means it doesn’t feel as snug on the head as some, though the upside is it has minimal contact points on my head, which helps with cooling.
All the features of this helmet mean it tips the scales towards being one of the weightier trail helmets I’ve used. No doubt it offers plenty of protection thanks to its features, but theoretically, other lighter-weight helmets offer equivalent protection. There’s roughly a 75-gram difference between the Montaro and another recent review helmet with very similar features, including a rotational impact damper and FIDLOCK closure, so it’s not insignificant.
Weight aside, everything else with the Montaro is excellent; there’s a ton of airflow thanks to ample venting and substantial internal channelling. Even at slow speeds, the helmet didn’t feel stifling.
The outer hard shell wraps right around the bottom edge of the helmet, keeping that all-important inner foam safe from harm. Even while the helmet rolls around in a car boot between rides, it should still look pretty fresh, though results may vary!
It took me some fiddling to get the Roc Loc tensioner adjusted to the optimal position, but I got there in the end. At times, I still find the curvature of the tensioner on either side of the dial doesn’t quite suit my head perfectly, and occasionally, it’s caused me some annoyance. However, this could be a ‘me’ problem exacerbated by having no hair to give a little more padding.
With a $299 RRP, the Montaro III sits at the lower end of the price spectrum for a helmet with these features and coverage. All in all, it’s a solid helmet that offers a lot of protection for the dollars. Sure, there’s a bit of a weight penalty, but I’d wager that this extra weight comes in the form of more protection over some lighter-weight options in the market, so that’s got to be a positive.
CamelBak Chase Adventure 8 Vest
Words Liam Friary
Images Caleb Smith
RRP $250
Distributor Southern Approach
There’s a particular style of riding where you need to carry more than your water bottle and whatever you have strapped to your bike or keep in frame storage (if you have one). But sometimes a full-blown backpack feels like overkill. On these days, you’re committed to being out for hours, tackling technical terrain, and need quick access to everything without fumbling around trying to get access to your gear.
When I first strapped on the Chase Adventure 8 Vest, I’ll admit I was sceptical – in the past, I’ve found vests either too snug or restrictive to wear. The Chase Adventure 8 Vest is designed for those big mountain all-day rides where preparation is everything. Eight litres total capacity, supplied with a two-litre Crux bladder, and enough clever organisation to make my tidy, slightly OCD self happy. The vest format means it sits above your jersey and/or bib pockets. This helps a lot as you’re not fighting for space but rather adding, and you can easily access any snacks or gear that’s not stashed in the vest.
The standout feature here is what CamelBak calls the “Command Center Harness”. It’s essentially a chest-mounted organisation system that puts your essentials right where you can see and grab them without contorting like a gymnast or stopping to dig through pockets. There’s integrated tool organisation built into the harness itself, which means your multi-tool, tyre plugs, and other critical bits are right there on your chest, easily within reach if something goes awry.
The main storage sits in the back panel with six litres of dedicated gear space. I managed to pack bike tools, some trail snacks, and a small first aid kit, and still had room for extras. The stretch overflow pocket on the outside is perfect for items you need quick access to – I stuffed my jacket in there. You can just grab the jacket on the descents or when the weather gets inclement without having to faff with zips and the like.
CamelBak has fitted this vest with their 3D Grid Mesh Harness, which does an admirable job of keeping airflow happening between you and the pack. But don’t get it confused – you’ll still be wearing something on your torso, so things will heat up. However, the airflow is pretty good when compared with other packs. The lightweight 420D recycled nylon construction helps here – it’s tough enough to handle branches and rocks but doesn’t add unnecessary bulk or weight.
The fit is secured with dual adjustable sternum straps. Being able to fine-tune the upper and lower chest fit means you can get it properly snug without feeling like you’re in a straitjacket. It did take some adjusting throughout the ride to get the sweet spot. The vest stays put remarkably well, even when you’re getting rowdy on technical descents or grinding up steep climbs. There’s minimal bounce or side-to-side movement, which is crucial when you’re trying to move around the bike.
I did find the fit good overall, though it could have been a bit better around the shoulders for me. However, this could be due to the winter months spent in the gym. Getting the right fit is crucial with a vest-style pack, more so than a traditional backpack, so definitely try before you buy if possible.
The two-litre Crux bladder is the same quality you’ll find across CamelBak’s range. The bite valve remains easy to drink from, positive shut-off when you’re done, and the magnetic tube trap keeps the hose secure against the shoulder strap when you’re not using it. It stays put on rough descents and didn’t bother me at all. The vest also features reflective elements for visibility, which is handy if your all-day ride stretches into dusk. There’s even provision for adding impact protection if you want back protection on gnarlier rides.
The capacity sits in an interesting, sweet spot. It’s not trying to be an overnighter like the H.A.W.G – this is for big single-day missions or rides where you need more than minimal kit but don’t want to feel like a pack mule.
I found myself reaching for this pack on more occasions with the warmer months, longer rides and changeable weather. I have been riding hip packs but lately, I’ve swayed back to the vest option due to its fit-and-forget nature and it sitting higher on the back. And, at 400 grams, it’s quite light for the capacity and build quality. When you cinch everything down for a shorter ride with minimal gear, it compresses nicely and doesn’t feel like you’re hauling around a half-empty sack. Equally, when you load it up properly, the harness system distributes the weight well enough that it doesn’t feel like it’s all pulling backwards off your shoulders.
The vest format really shines in situations where you’re frequently on and off the bike – technical trails with hike-a-bike sections, or rides where you’re stopping regularly to snack, session features or take photos. There’s no wrestling with shoulder straps or waist belts. And when riding, the vest just stays put and moves with you naturally.
The Chase Adventure 8 Vest is a well-executed piece of kit and it does what it says on the tin. It’s probably not for all riders, but it’s handy for those longer, more committing days in the mountains where preparation matters and quick access to your gear is invaluable.
KS LEV Circuit Wireless Dropper Post
Words Liam Friary
Images Ralph Cabansag
RRP $799
Distributor Everoutdoor
Wireless droppers are in vogue lately. KS has thrown its hat firmly into the ring with the LEV Circuit. Let’s start with what makes this thing tick. The LEV Circuit is KS’s answer to the wireless dropper question, building on the proven internals from their well- regarded LEV series, but cutting the cord entirely.
No cables, no housing, no internal routing headaches. Just a Bluetooth connection between the remote and the post. Simple as.
Installation is a breath of fresh air. Drop the post in, clamp it down, pair the remote via Bluetooth, and you’re sorted. It literally took less than five minutes. It was a real pleasure when compared to wrestling internal cables through modern frames. The whole setup took me maybe twenty minutes, and most of that was just getting the saddle height dialled in. The remote runs on a standard CR2032 battery, while the post itself has a rechargeable battery that slots in neatly. Everything you need comes in the box: remote, battery, charger. Job done.
The post itself is available in 31.6 and 30.9mm versions of the Circuit, with travel set at 125, 150, 175, maxing out at a very respectable 200mm. KS has clearly thought about modern geometry here, with total post lengths that should fit most frames without too much drama. The adjustable air pressure at the base of the post lets you dial in the return speed to your preference, which is a nice touch. Mechanically, it’s nearly identical to the standard LEV, just flipped around. The air valve for adjusting return speed sits at the bottom of the post, while a small motor up top opens the hydraulic valve when you hit the remote.
The rechargeable 450 mAh battery slides in behind the seat clamp, keeping things tidy. KS reckons it’ll run for up to eight weeks on a charge under normal use, and it takes about 4.5 hours to top up with the included charger. The remote uses a CR2032 coin cell that should last around eight months, with an LED that flips from green to red when it’s time for a swap. You can grab one from any petrol station or supermarket if needed. I’ve had that happen on a few occasions, so it’s worth having a spare and double-checking battery life before rolling out.
Now, let’s talk about how this post performs on the trail. The actuation is noticeably smooth and light. There’s something almost effortless about how it drops when you press that remote button while weighted on the saddle. It doesn’t fight you at all. I have been running wireless dropper posts for more than a few years and rate them highly. I did revert back to a cable-actuated dropper with a recent test bike and actually forgot about how much more I use the electronic version when compared to the mechanical. Put simply – you press the button, the post drops. It’s that straightforward, and after a few rides, you stop thinking about it entirely. The remote lever itself is large and easy to reach, with a response time that’s very quick. The amount of force required is fairly light, and the post slides smoothly out of the way without much effort. It’s on par with the RockShox Reverb AXS for how little effort it takes to get the seat out of the way.
The post is built tough, too. An IP67 rating means it’s dust-tight and properly water- resistant. Precision keyways keep everything stable with virtually no play. This is something I’ve been checking for religiously, and so far, there’s been nothing to report. No slop, no wiggle, just solid performance.
But, there are some downsides. The return speed sits somewhere in the middle of the pack. It’s not sluggish by any means, but it’s not lightning-quick either. You can tune it a bit with air pressure, and I found adding a few extra psi helped. When it’s time to raise the seat for a climb, you hold down the remote and it returns to full extension, but this is where the Reverb AXS has the edge. That post extends much more quickly than the Circuit. I inflated the Circuit to 180 psi, the max recommended, and even then, I’d call the return speed adequate, but not amazing.
On rides with more rolling terrain, where the seat is constantly being adjusted, the difference between the Circuit and the Reverb AXS is noticeable. The Circuit is a little less eager to fully extend. Of course, not everyone wants a super speedy post, and I wouldn’t call the Circuit slow, at all – it’s just not the fastest out there.If you’re coming from a post that rockets back to full extension, you might notice the difference. It gets the job done, just not with any particular flair.
The remote lets the package down a bit. For a post at this price point, the remote feels cheaper than it should. Don’t get me wrong, it’s functional and does what it’s meant to do, but the construction feels a touch flimsy. It’s not that it’s going to fall apart on you, but for the price, you’d expect the remote to feel a bit more premium. The button action is fine, and the ergonomics are decent, but the overall build quality just doesn’t quite match the post itself.
The price of the post is up there but not nearly as expensive as the new RockShox Reverb AXS. Wireless convenience does come at a cost, however. If you’re building up a new bike or already running wireless shifting, the LEV Circuit makes more sense. But if you’re thinking about replacing a perfectly good mechanical dropper, you’ll need to really value that cable-free experience.
One thing worth mentioning is the serviceability. KS has a decent reputation for support, and the post uses their proven hydraulic valve design that sits at the top of the unit. Time will tell how this holds up long term, but the company has a solid track record with their LEV series, so I would back them.
After several months of riding, the LEV Circuit has been rock solid. The Bluetooth connection has been flawless, never dropping signal or acting up. The actuation remains smooth and consistent, and the post hasn’t developed any play or quirks. It just works, which is exactly what you want from a dropper.
KS has delivered an impressive wireless dropper here. The smooth action alone is worth noting, and the battery life means you’re not constantly worrying about charging. Believe me, this can suck and ruin your riding experience. Installation is straightforward, and the performance has been reliable. For riders who value smooth, light actuation and don’t want to deal with cables, this post could be a good option.
If you’re in the market for a wireless dropper and want something that feels effortless to use, the LEV Circuit deserves serious consideration. When you’re out on the trail, pressing that button and getting the saddle to drop away without any resistance, you’ll improve the riding experience.