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!
Crankworx in Aotearoa: Origins and Early Vision
Words Liam Friary, Ariki Tibble, Darren Kinnaird & Tuhua Mutu
Images Fraser Britton, Kike Abelleria and Clint Trahan
The southern hemisphere’s summer is now upon us! And that means Crankworx is returning to New Zealand in 2026 with back-to-back festivals. The Crankworx season kicks off at Christchurch Adventure Park from February 19-22, before heading north to legendary Rotorua from March 11-15.
Christchurch is stepping up big time, hosting full World Tour competitions including the Ōtautahi Slopestyle, Redemption Downhill, and Christchurch Pump Track Challenge. Rotorua returns with the Kārearea Downhill, Dual Slalom, Pump Track Challenge, and the Slopestyle in Memory of McGazza, plus a new event called the Skyline Double Down.
Two festivals, in two incredible riding destinations. Whether you’re there for the big air, the rowdy crowds, or just soaking up the gravity vibes, this is shaping up to be something special. Let’s take a look back and see how Crankworx became such a massive part of New Zealand’s mountain biking story. We sat down with the people who helped build it from the ground up to find out.
Taking the leap to the southern hemisphere: What made Rotorua the right choice for Crankworx’s first southern hemisphere stop back in 2014, and what were the biggest challenges in launching that inaugural 2015 festival?
Darren Kinnaird – Managing Director, Crankworx World Tour
When I visited Rotorua in 2014 for a site visit, I immediately fell in love with the place. The people, the culture, the riding; I knew there was something special here and we needed to bring the mountain biking world here. The biggest challenge was probably the time. There was less than nine months to get ready for the first ever Crankworx in the southern hemisphere in a place most of us had never been.
Equal pay from day one: Crankworx Rotorua was groundbreaking in offering equal prize money for men and women from the very first event. What drove that decision, and how did it influence the broader Crankworx World Tour?
Ariki Tibble – ex-Crankworx New Zealand Chief Executive
When we originally made the call to offer equal prize money from the very first Crankworx Rotorua, it never felt to me like a bold or radical decision. It felt obvious. New Zealand has a long history of championing women’s rights, and we grew up in a country where Kate Sheppard and the suffrage movement are part of the national DNA. Tak Mutu, as Event Director at the time, was our champion for the cause for the NZ operations and for him it was a hill he was prepared to die on if that’s what it was going to take!
Mountain biking was and is still relatively young as a professional sport, which meant we didn’t have the heavy machinery or deeply entrenched hierarchies that I imagine other more established codes might have to grapple with. In some ways, that gave us a gift. We had the chance to get it right from the start, before the cement had hardened.
McGazza’s Legacy: Kelly McGarry was instrumental in shaping Rotorua’s slopestyle course before his tragic passing in 2016. How has his spirit continued to influence the event, and what does it mean to keep his memory alive through the competition?
Ariki Tibble
When I first heard Kelly McGarry’s name, I had only just stepped into the mountain biking world. I didn’t yet understand its legends or its language, so discovering Kelly felt a bit like learning we had a sleeping giant hiding in plain sight. He was physically impossible to miss – six foot five, golden hair flowing, a presence that filled the room even when he wasn’t trying to. But what struck me more was how humble he was, the kind of person who didn’t need to announce who he was because everyone around him already knew.
I first met him properly while he and his best mate, Tom Hey, were shaping the early slopestyle course. I remember standing there, stunned by the scale of the jumps they were carving into the Rotorua dirt. I couldn’t fathom that a human being on a bike could do what they were building for.
But it wasn’t until I travelled to Whistler and walked the village streets with him that I understood who he was to others. We couldn’t move more than a few steps without being stopped. Parents wanted photos. Kids wanted autographs. Fans lit up like they’d seen a movie star. It was then that it landed for me what a big deal he was in the scene, even if back home he was treated like any other bloke.
His passing just a couple of years in shook the community deeply. But what’s stayed with me is how present he still feels. It’s like he’s just on the other side of a door – not gone, just in another room. His voice, his energy, his pioneering spirit linger in the atmosphere of the event. Big personalities have a way of staying with you like that.
Most of the athletes competing now never rode alongside him, yet they carry that same spirit he embodied. Kelly was often the first to drop in on a new feature, the first to test something. Today’s riders honour him every time they push past what seems possible. His legacy isn’t a memory. It’s a living current that still runs through Crankworx Rotorua and the World Tour.
Historic firsts: From Nicholi Rogatkin’s first- ever competition 1080 in 2016 to hosting one of the last major international events before the pandemic in March 2020 – which moments stand out as truly defining for Crankworx NZ?
Ariki Tibble
People often assume the defining moments in Crankworx come from the biggest tricks, the landmark podiums or the viral runs. And those things are incredible. But for me, the moments that stay with me the longest are the ones behind the curtain or under the hood. They’re the orchestral moments when a hundred different people, in a hundred different roles, each carrying their own small piece of the puzzle, somehow manage to come together and create something none of us could have achieved alone. That is the magic I fell in love with during my time working in the Crankworx realm.
One standout example is Loïc Bruni’s run on the Taniwha Downhill in 2023. The day of the race felt like the final boss in a 1980s video game.
Light was fading faster than we expected. Technical teams were stretching the limits of what had ever been done in a forest environment. We were relying on innovations like Starlink and a huge amount of force of will to broadcast something many people had told us wasn’t possible.
By the time Loïc was getting ready to drop in, it felt like the event had carried us to the edge of a cliff. Every challenge we had overcome, the logistics, the technical barriers, the timing, the pressure, had funnelled us into that single, delicate window. And, in the dimming light, Loïc delivered an extraordinary run. It was clutch and clinical and brave. But the reason it meant so much to me is because it also represented the collective clutch of the entire team. His moment only existed because of all of the unseen moments that came before it.
Had he not won that day, I think people would have rightly questioned our decision to push through the fading light. We learned from that experience, and we carried those lessons forward. But on that day, everything aligned. It felt like the mountain, the team, and the sport were all breathing in the same rhythm. Those moments are the tip of an enormous iceberg of collective efforts. And the great privilege for me was having a view and a deep appreciation of that iceberg in its entirety.
The Soul of Crankworx: You’ve described Rotorua as the “soul” of the World Tour (with Whistler as the “heart”). What is it about the Māori culture, the community embrace, and the Rotorua vibe that creates that special identity?
Ariki Tibble
Whenever I try to explain what makes Rotorua the soul of the World Tour, I always end up coming back to things that aren’t easily measured. It’s not infrastructure, or weather, or even the terrain, although all of those things matter. It’s the way people connect here. And for me, that understanding comes from my Māori side, from growing up surrounded by a way of being that teaches you how to welcome, how to include, how to weave people together so they feel like they belong. On my mother’s side I have Irish and Welsh heritage, which came with its own set of gifts. But the lessons about bringing people together, about creating cohesion and allowing people to show up as their full selves, came from watching my cousins on the marae at hui and tangihanga. Māori hospitality is not transactional. It is relational. It is about walking into a space and feeling seen. Feeling safe. Feeling like someone has anticipated your needs without you having to say a word.
Rotorua amplifies that. It is a cultural hub, a place where that way of being is not confined to ceremonial settings but shows up everywhere. Tourism operators, local businesses, volunteers, event staff, aunties on the street; everyone carries a little piece of that same ethos. Visitors often struggle to articulate it. They say things like “It felt like coming home,” even though they’ve never been here before. They feel the warmth before they can name the source.
That is what makes Rotorua the soul of Crankworx. It’s not just another stop on a tour. It’s a place where the event reaches beyond its own boundaries and becomes part of a larger cultural rhythm. The feeling people get here goes straight past the mind and into the chest. It hits the soul, which is exactly why that word feels right.
No spectators, all heart: November 2021 saw Crankworx Rotorua run in a COVID bubble with no public attendance. What was it like pivoting to that broadcast-only format, and how did the team keep the magic alive?
Ariki Tibble
The 2021 COVID bubble event was one of the most intense experiences our team has ever been through. Crankworx is a massive undertaking in the best of times, but the pandemic forced us into a pressure cooker that was shifting by the hour. By the time we reached the event window, that final 30-day countdown where every day increases your financial exposure, the team was already worn down from constant rule changes, public health updates, legal challenges, and uncertainty from partners. It felt like we were trying to build a plane in the dark while flying it through turbulence in uncharted territory.
The business model of any major event is unusual by comparison to other businesses. For Crankworx you spend 355 days preparing for ten days of operation. Your costs climb steadily and then exponentially as you get closer to opening. The day before the gates open is the moment of maximum financial risk and exposure because you’ve committed to the full spend but you haven’t truly earned a dollar. And here we were, in that two-week exponential window, with the expanding Auckland bubble and escalating COVID alert levels – having to refund ticket holders, cancel the expo, renegotiate positions with core partners, and defend our legal right to continue. Meanwhile, athletes had already travelled and were sitting in quarantine, vendors were already setting up and so many of our hard costs had already been incurred. Every element felt high stakes.
Yet despite the pressure, something remarkable happened: the team held together. People stepped into roles they had never done before. Decisions were made in real time collaboratively under immense strain. We took one step at a time, and at every twist another little magic door seemingly opened which we could walk through. And when the event finally took place, even without spectators, there was still something undeniably special about it. It revealed that Crankworx is more than the parts we think are essential. When some of those parts were stripped away, the heart of the event remained.
The consequences of that year rippled far beyond the festival itself. Not everyone felt like it should have gone ahead. We carried the fatigue, the financial impact and the psychological load for years. In some ways, we’re still carrying them now. But the fact that we delivered it at all is something I’ll never forget. It was a hard moment, but it was also a defining one.
Birth of the Summer Series: The Summer Series launched in late 2021, road-tripping through Alexandra, Queenstown, Cardrona, and Wānaka. What was the vision behind taking Crankworx regional, and how has that evolved into the Christchurch festival we saw in 2025?
Darren Kinnaird
The Crankworx Summer Series was born out of a “COVID pivot” of what can we do without mass gatherings. After we did it in BC, the team in NZ was like, “hey we could do that here too”. With so many great riding destinations in New Zealand and New Zealand being a home for so many great mountain bikers, whether they’re from New Zealand or not, it just felt like a no brainer. Christchurch is just the evolution of that original series and the original reason we came to New Zealand in the first place. World-class riding, people and Kiwi spirit!
Homegrown Champion:
Tuhoto-Ariki Pene NZ’s King of Crankworx in 2023 – a rider who started as a young grom at Rotorua in 2016. What does his journey tell us about the talent pipeline Crankworx has helped create in New Zealand?
Tuhua Mutu – Event Director, Crankworx New Zealand
When we launched Crankworx in NZ 12 years ago, we weren’t just bringing an event – we were bringing the world to our doorstep. The best riders, the best tracks, the broadcast machines, the pressure, the scale, the intensity – all of it arrived in our backyard. From the outset, the goal was clear: to show the world’s best riders why New Zealand should be their summer base, and to showcase our destinations, culture, and quality of life.
But the most powerful outcome was what Crankworx did for our own talent. Suddenly, young Kiwi riders no longer had to imagine what “world-class” looked like. Year after year, they could stand next to it. Feel it. Chase it. Hone their craft against the very best. Crankworx also created the platform for these young riders to be seen, giving raw Kiwi talent regular exposure to global brands and industry attention, and helping turn aspiring groms into emerging professional athletes.
Tuhoto was one of those kids. He didn’t just watch Crankworx – he grew up inside it, discovering what it takes to compete on the world stage as he went. Today, just two years on from Tuhoto’s King of Crankworx 2023 achievement, New Zealand’s gravity mountain biking talent pool has exploded to see the deepest and highest performing ever. Riders like Robin Goomes, Lachie Stevens-McNab, Jess Blewitt, Jenna and Kate Hastings, Erice Van Leuven, Ellie Hulsebosch, Sacha Earnest, Tyler Waite, Oli Clark, Charlie Murray, Joe Millington, and Toby and Rory Meek – not to mention rising stars like Winni Goldsbury – are pushing the pace internationally. And then we still have our seasoned veterans like Sam Blenkinsop, Brook Macdonald, Wyn and Ed Masters who continue to cast long shadows, remaining fiercely competitive across multiple disciplines on the world stage.
We’re proud to have helped nurture Kiwi talent from the earliest days, supporting many of today’s world-class gravity riders since they were kids. And the momentum hasn’t peaked – it’s compounding. With Crankworx now embedded in both Rotorua and Christchurch, the next generation is growing up with world- class racing in their own backyard every single year. That means more pathways, more visibility, more opportunity, and ultimately more Kiwi riders stepping onto the world stage. If this is what the first 12 years delivered, just imagine what the next decade could hold.
Christchurch’s debut: February 2025 brought Crankworx to the South Island’s largest city with NZ’s first FMBA Gold Slopestyle. What does having both Rotorua and Christchurch on the calendar mean for the future of mountain biking in New Zealand?
Tuhua Mutu
Back when the very first Crankworx event in New Zealand was conceived, part of the vision was to use the platform to tell a wider story of Aotearoa – recognising that every region has its own unique community, whenua, and culture to celebrate. Rotorua set that foundation, bringing together mana whenua, world-class riding, and a deep culture of hospitality that defined what Crankworx in NZ would stand for.
With Christchurch now on the calendar, that original vision expands in the best possible way. A unified national identity emerges – two regions, two communities, each adding their own flavour to remind the world of the quality of life our backyard offers. Rotorua’s geothermal forests, Māori cultural heart, and long MTB history sit alongside Christchurch’s Port Hills and Southern Alps backdrop, its rejuvenated bike-friendly city environment, and its fast-growing South Island scene.
Together, they form gateways to the wider North and South Island riding landscapes – the ideal playground for every outdoor enthusiast whether you ride bikes well or not! Two world- class Crankworx stops signal a new era: a truly national platform for mountain biking, more development opportunities for Kiwi talent, and a future where New Zealand stands even more firmly among the world’s great riding nations.
Where to next?: Looking at 2026 and beyond, what’s your vision for the evolution of Crankworx in New Zealand and its role in the World Tour? Are there new locations, disciplines, or innovations on the horizon?
Darren Kinnaird
New Zealand continues to be one of the best riding destinations in the world which is a key part of the Crankworx ethos. Who knows what the future holds but as long as there is incredible riding to share with the world in New Zealand, we are keen to help tell that story!
Bosch PowerMore 250 Range Extender: Push the adventure, not the bike
Words Alex Stevens
Images Supplied
If you had a chance to read our last issue, you might recall our review of the Mondraker Dune R with Bosch’s lightest drive unit; the Performance Line SX.
We loved the natural ride feel of this bike and thought that, being a lighter set-up but still with plenty of torque and power, it would be ideal for backcountry and hike-a-bike missions, especially with the addition of a battery range extender.
With Bosch’s PowerMore 250 Range Extenders now available in New Zealand, we’ve had a closer look at this system and can confirm we like what we see. Here’s how it works.
About the size of a drink bottle and weighing in at just 1.5kg, this extra battery provides 250Wh of capacity and can increase range by up to 60 per cent. It’s exactly what you need for a big day out when the plan is to push the adventure — but not end up pushing the eBike home. Knowing that you’ve got extra juice in the tank gives you the freedom to explore further without that niggly range anxiety.
The PowerMore 250 is designed to fit neatly in the water bottle holder on the down tube and connects to the charging port via a cable. The cable doesn’t come as part of the package because the cable length varies depending on the size of the bike frame. It may sound like a hassle remembering to order a separate part but better to have a system that actually fits your eBike rather than making do with a one-size-doesn’t-fit-all workaround.
Cable lengths range from 50mm to 750mm and all you have to do is plug it into the PowerMore 250 and into your charging socket on the frame. The PowerMore cable also comes with two different connector variants: cable routing in the direction of the battery holder and cable routing facing away from the battery holder.
You’re probably asking, is 250Wh enough power? Remember, this is designed to boost your range, rather than act as your main battery. Bosch’s vision for the future is that all batteries in the smart system will become DualBattery- capable, meaning they can be combined for longer and/or more demanding riding.
Saying that, though, you can actually use the PowerMore 250 as a single battery — should you need to. We’re not really here for a quick trip to the dairy, though, so let’s get back to the main purpose: big rides.
If you’re riding an eBike with a mid-range drive unit like the Performance Line SX and adding an extra 250Wh on top of the 400Wh from the Bosch CompactTube 400 (which is presumably what Bosch had planned since these products were all released at the same time), you’ll probably find your legs give up before the bike does. The main advantage here is that you’re carrying less weight.
One thing you will need to check before you get too excited about range extenders, is whether the PowerMore 250 is compatible with your eBike. Even if you’re running a Bosch eBike System it will need to come with Bosch’s Smart System from model year 2024. Check if that’s the case via the Bosch Flow App (settings > My eBike > eBike Pass > Components) or eBike display (Settings > My eBike). If ‘PowerMore’ is an option on the menu that means you can retrofit PowerMore 250. Alternatively, your local Bosch eBike dealer will be able to tell you.
Why can’t PowerMore 250 be retrofitted to all eBikes with a Bosch system? As we all know, Bosch are big on safety features. In this case, it’s about making sure the eBike meets special requirements including, for example, reinforced receiver tubes at the attachment points in the frame.
So, there you have it, an answer to the question we all want answered: how to fit more riding into your life. If you’re on a Bosch-powered eBike, check your Flow App to see if it’s compatible with the PowerMore 250. Spring is here and it’s time to start planning some missions.
