Touring the Island of Eternal Spring
Words by Georgia Petrie
Images by Cameron MacKenzie
When you tell people you’re going to do a bike race in Madeira, the first thing they ask is; “where’s that?”. To which I say; “It’s a random island that’s kinda part of Portugal, but it’s its own thing…”. The follow-up question is often: “What’s it like?” – and to that I can’t find enough descriptive words in the dictionary to articulate just what makes it the island paradise that it is. It’s an all-encompassing place; it draws you in from the moment you approach the airport’s precariously positioned runway, which requires a last-minute 180 degree turn to land, and often rounds out the top 10 “world’s most dangerous airports to land at”.
Once you’re on the ground, Madeira’s namesake “The Island of Eternal Spring” starts to make sense – beautiful, century-old streets are dotted with flora and fauna unique to it’s mild climate, where the concept of “winter” doesn’t exist; strikingly green and rugged terraced hills dating back to the 15th century envelop the island’s capital, Funchal, while the island’s dramatic volcanic peaks create postcard-perfect views in every corner.
Oh, and how could I forget the fact that it’s home to some of the best mountain biking trails in the world? Factor that in, and you’ve got the perfect concoction for a bucket list riding destination.
The seed for racing Trans Madeira was planted when I was lucky enough to visit the island in 2024, to take part in a photoshoot. Other than being familiar with the name, because it had hosted the Enduro World Series rounds in 2017 and 2019—and more so, the Deathgrip Movie—I was going in blind. I knew nothing about its landscape, very little about its proximity (or lack thereof) to anything and certainly not that it would take 45 hours and five flights to get there… of course I said yes! We ended up traversing the entire island, a never-ending, sensory overloading, treasure map courtesy of Freeride Madeira—not only are John and his team the premiere shuttle and touring company on the island, but they also build and maintain Madeira’s 200km+ trail network. I also discovered they were the masterminds behind Trans Madeira, a 6-day, 200km Enduro stage race that circumnavigated the island’s extensive trail network across 35 special stages. After being so impressed at the operation Freeride Madeira had built, I knew that any event run by John and the team would be nothing short of well-oiled, packed to the brim with goodness, and that anything you could possibly think of would “just be sorted”. Bucket list item added!
I am fortunate enough to be able to ride from my doorstep, which helped immensely with squeezing in training rides. However, an important caveat to this is the fact that due to that pesky thing called work—a day job coupled with freelance commitments (one of them being designing this magazine, among other things, in my spare time)—the majority of my rides now barely exceeded one hour in duration (two hours maybe, in summer, if you include the post-ride commute to the pub), and whilst I’d completed Enduro World Series events previously, building my fitness to a level that could survive six days of racing was unfamiliar territory. I spent the summer squeezing in 1000m rides as much as possible, coupled with my usual gym work and the odd sanity run and eBike ride for downhill training. I wanted to challenge myself in a totally different way and if I could finish all six days, I’d be happy!
My weapon of choice was the Specialized Stumpjumper 15. This is a comfortable all-day climber in a light-yet-punchy 145mm package, paired with a beefed up 160mm fork for added stability and a mullet setup for a touch of agility. I stocked up on 6x days worth of kit packed into separate packing cubes, ready for each day—I’m a chronic overthinker when it comes to choosing my OOTD (outfit of the day)—as well as 6x days’ worth of snack kits—NZ Natural Confectionary snakes, Bumper Bars, and PURE nutrition gels and electrolyte packs. While I knew there would be feed zones each day, I wanted to be prepared for any hangry emergencies with food I was familiar with.
On a frosty May morning, we departed Christchurch on what was a simple journey…. until our final Lisbon > Funchal leg. Being unable to land in Madeira meant we flew back to Lisbon, only to get straight back on the plane to attempt the journey again—a total of almost six hours to complete a 1h40 journey, ultimately arriving at our accommodation at 2am. No time for jetlag!
Day 1 – 48 km – 1000m up – 2950m down – 7 special stages
Not being much of a tent girlie under usual circumstances, I decided to splash out on comfortable sleeping gear—a Sea2Summit mat of decent thickness, summer weight sleeping bag and adhesive pillow—all of which were worth their weight (excuse the pun) in gold. Waking up to a beautiful sunrise in Machico, the precarious challenge of attempting to put on full riding kit without dragging 10 tonnes of sand into my tent began. I quickly realised that finding a way to keep 6x days’ worth of riding kit contained within the tent, and avoiding a luggage blowout, was going to be paramount in wasting precious mental energy at the beginning and end of each day—especially as each night was spent in a different location.
Day one took us to the East Side of the island, where we’d be starting the day with Stage 1— Boca Do Risco—a previous nominee for EWS trail of the year, that winds its way down beneath luscious canopies of Jurrasic Park-esque bush until shooting riders out precariously close to the cliff’s edge. When I think of Madeira, this trail is exactly what comes to mind; exceptional hand-built, flowing singletrack that’s the perfect blend of fast and technical, all enveloped by endless mountain-meets-ocean panoramas. After shaking the Stage 1 nerves I’d been long anticipating, and despite my immense preference to do basically anything other than carry a bike on my back up a hill, the endless ribbons of coastline and peaks we were treated to en route to Stage 2 was enough to put a smile on the face of even the most dubious hike-a-biker (me). Stage 2—Into the Mystic—took me straight back to the dustbowl of Christchurch, and was another one of Madeira’s gems that I’d been lucky enough to get a taste of previously. Fast and loose with dust-filled corners and off-camber drifting, staying upright was an uphill battle. The liaison to Stage 4 hit, and every doubt I had about being over prepared with my carefully curated selection of snacks quickly dissipated as I munched down a Bumper Trail Bar. The four bags of Natural Confectionary Co. snakes (if you know, you know) paid for itself instantly—especially the positive reception from my UK and Canadian counterparts!
Stage 4—Natal—down into the feed zone at Porto da Cruz, was full on—basically a rock garden for 5 minutes—and my body was starting to feel the fatigue of needing a substantial refuel. These were longer downhill runs than I was used to and, in hindsight, I had insane jet lag that I was subconsciously suppressing (it’s not real unless you say it is, right?!). The PURE nutrition gel I smashed before dropping in was the real MVP, giving me just enough beans to hang on until the most boujee food zone spread I’d ever seen. I rolled up and uttered something that resembled a “thank f*ck for that” and smashed a Red Bull along with a freshly baked filled roll, a pastel de nata and cup of roast potatoes. No, I’d never seen potatoes at a feed zone before (nor pickles for that matter), but yes, I was absolutely here for it. Reaching Stage 7—Hole in One—the view down into Machico was all-time. A little slick at the top, my tired legs and subsequently lazy riding position caused my foot to blow off my pedal, and I was on the ground before I knew it. Weirdly relieved to get a crash out of the way, I fumbled my way down the final rock gardens of the day and straight into a beach swim, finishing the day in 4th overall.
Day 2 – 46 km – 1182m up – 3700m down – 7 special stages
Generous doesn’t quite cut it for the incredible breakfast spread put on by Chefs Robert and Nuno—these guys haven’t missed an edition of the event since 2018, and it’s clear they’ve got mobile catering for 200 people down to a fine art, and that’s no small feat. The beauty of Trans Madeira is that you don’t have to worry about anything—the smallest of details you can think of are all sorted for you, meaning you can focus on your race and truly take in the paradise that surrounds you for the duration of the week. The fact that these guys can move 180 luggage bags from one side of the island to the other, all while managing to feed 200+ humans, are some serious logistical goals—these guys know what they’re doing.
After exchanging some very tired good morning’s and “body’s a bit sore today eh!”, I settled into my routine of porridge with lashings of Nutella and peanut butter paired with a side of scrambled eggs, sprinkled with dribs and drabs of pastel de natas, beautifully baked fresh rolls, cheeses and pastries. Fresh and so well managed—these guys are goals when it comes to logistics. I learnt quickly that I needed to eat as much as possible for breakfast—by the time we’d roll out and hop on the shuttle and reach the start of the day’s stages, a couple of hours would often pass and I was glad to have some sustenance behind me.
We started the day off with Stage 8—the infamous Gamble line—which was a treacherous mix of slick berms, aptly referred to as ‘Madeira Ice’ when wet, and hero dirt. An island favourite, I was a little too cautious and finished the stage wanting more from my riding—though after seeing how many crashes were had, I was pleased to reach the bottom with clean kit! Kept company by my riding buddy Lizzie, who’d made the journey all the way from Pemberton, BC so could share my jetlag woes, I settled into the chunky sealed road climb that was our Stage 9 liaison to Truta’s Trail. A total contrast to Gamble, this stage had it all, including sketchy wet rock gardens—they did warn us this trail does suffer from the impacts of wet weather, and would be changed should there be too much rain. My fatigued arms were holding on for dear life, trying to maintain both speed and grip through chunky rock sections. After catching three riders at various points throughout the stage, and thanking them profusely for precariously allowing me to pass in the most awkward technical sections imaginable, we were relieved—and for some reason oddly confused at just how technical parts of the stage were (perhaps it was the fatigue skewing our perception)—to make it the bottom of the stage.
In contrast, we were treated to absolute loam- filled bliss for stages 10, 11 and 12. As the trails became drier, the day became hotter, and soon we were baking in the sun at the day’s food zone in Porto da Cruz, the infamous Penha d’Águia rock feature perched above us. Stage 14—Santo Antonio—was a personal favourite of mine and suited me well: rocky, fast, technical enough to be challenging and require careful line consideration, but “not too technical to be scary”, and bonus points for no pedally sections. The stage starts in the open, with mind-blowing views of Funchal below.
The ocean seemed like a lifetime away, and hard to believe that ultimately we’d be riding to our new campsite on the shores beneath—I vividly remembered riding this on my last trip to Madeira, and what a privilege it was to have a chance to enjoy it once again. I tried to carry as much speed as possible through the rocky chutes up top before the trail snaked its way into the eucalyptus trees for its second half, Redline, where endless switchbacks meant you could really dial up your pace. I let the bike do the work and focused on enjoying myself. We finished the day off with the aptly known “Madeira massage”—absolutely bombing it down the beautiful, winding streets of Funchal, precariously perched on the hilltop. There’s something particularly magical about riding through town here—whether it was the residents yelling “go girl!” from their driveways, the beautiful ancient buildings or the blooming flora and fauna, it’s a sensory overload. One of the best days on a bike I’ve ever had, and what a treat to finish with a Stage 7 win and a bump up to second place overall.
Day 3 – 40 km – 1174m up – 2600m down – 4 special stages
Day three truly encompassed the diverse beauty Madeira has to offer; a true reflection of the postcard that I so often describe to people when they ask me what the island is like. Seemingly endless breathtaking landscapes paired with some of the best technical flow trails I’ve ever ridden, all in the company of humans that can only recharge your social battery—THIS is Trans Madeira manifested. Starting Stage 15 on the alpine trail, Pico Cedro, the now fatigued arms were given a wake-up call with exposed rocky chutes, with infamous “Madeira Ice” thrown in. The final stint of our Stage 15 liaison was a short hike-a-bike which highlighted the severity of the blisters I’d sustained in Day 1’s beautiful Ridgeline liaison. After battling with blisters in many hike- a-bike’s prior, this was a key concern of mine that, despite all my preventative attempts, had come to fruition—nonetheless, after only two days. Thankfully, it was short and sweet, and we were rewarded with stunning alpine vistas with all of the day’s stages situated above 1000m, enveloped by striking volcanic-rock cliff faces and panoramic vistas of the island below.
While you’d expect the downhill stages to be the day’s highlight, the liaisons were simply breathtaking—that’s what makes this race such an all-encompassing experience— everywhere you look, whether its descending or ascending, is simply breathtaking. This truly is an all-encompassing experience—being able to descend down some of the world’s best trails is just the cherry on top. The liaison into Nun’s Valley is nothing short of spectacular/ breathtaking/once in a lifetime. Situated in a now-extinct volcano, this world-renowned corner of Madeira originates from the 16th century and is a bucket list item for riders and non-riders alike—enveloped by mountains layered with century-old terraces, it’s hard to know where to look first. Although steep in spots and timed at the precarious point in the day, right before the feed zone, the endless views, easy yapping and descent down the infamous “nun’s path” made any fatigue I was feeling somewhat forgettable.
So far, I’d managed to get into a routine when it came to feed zones and hydration, yet for some reason—perhaps led by belief that today would be a “shorter day” (I quickly learnt that such statements should be taken with a grain of salt!)—I opted to omit my usual bread roll, instead fuelling solely on lollies, a Red Bull and some nuts. Our historic tour of Madeira continued as we worked our way through the next liaison which followed the infamous Levadas—irrigation channels built in the 16th century to bring large amounts of water from the west and northwest of the island to the drier southeast—again, a surreal experience for anybody, with or without an appetite for riding bikes. All was going well until I was perched precariously on the edge of a Levadas and lost my footing, tumbling down into the green mass below, only to be stopped by the crevasse between my middle and ring fingers getting caught abruptly on a rock.
I’ve always found the comeraderie between women at bike races to be something special, and let’s just say—when you’re riding for eight hours per day for six days straight, you see people at their most vulnerable, and anything goes when you’re delusional and fatigued. We’d joked that everybody has to have their “tears day”, and today was going to be my day—I was tired, I’d ripped a sock, my finger (and ego) hurt from my tumble, I’d forgotten my headlamp for the [kilometre-long] tunnel, and my decision not to have a bread roll at lunch was biting me (excuse the pun) in the ass. I was over it, and looking down at my Garmin to see that we’d surpassed 1000m of climbing still (after expecting ~850m) with no-end in sight was the straw that broke the camels back. Those moments on the bike where the revolutions are turning, but you’re slogging away on a road to nowhere. Oh, and suppressing three days of jetlag might have had something to do with it, too! After a few tears, some profanities and a few “I’m fine—today is just a day” moments with the other ladies, I was relieved to finally see the top of Ginjas, which constituted Stage 18—and what an absolutely magical stage this was. Only accessible via the Levada tunnel traverse through the mountains, the trail is only opened twice a year for the race—what a privilege. “Best trail in the world” was a common sentiment among riders at the bottom, echoed by myself also! Luscious, loamy sweeping berms that’d make anybody feel like a hero, rock gardens you could float over and roots to pop off for days—all nestled within an incredible green canopy. We were met by an ice-cold Coral, smiling faces and a picturesque descent down into Sao Vincente. Bad day WHO?!
Day 4 – 51 km – 1287m up – 3300m down – 7 special stages
Being awoken by the classic camping sounds of neighbouring tents unzipping, I quickly realised that the footsteps walking past my tent were squelching, which could only mean one thing… wet ground = rain! The camp rumour mill started in the lineup for breakfast—like kids on school camp—“apparently its sunny on the other side of the island” mixed with “I’m going to sh*t my pants if the dirt is wet out west”. After umm’ing and ahh’ing over how to best kit up, a last minute swap from shorts to pants and my Goretex rain jacket stuffed in my frame, we were loaded onto the shuttles in the hope the windscreen wipers would slow down the closer we got to the start of Stage #19.
I feel this is a good opportunity to give a shoutout to the bus drivers of Madeira—it should be noted that Trans Madeira is a mix of pedal- and shuttle-assisted climbing; most days are around ~1200m of spinning pedals, with the remainder being shuttles. While parts of some stages had me whispering a few profanities to myself, the shuttles aren’t for the faint hearted either—a mixture of being precariously perched on the edge of a road that’s a handful of metres in width whilst dodging tourist cars in-between, all whilst winding for endless kilometres—think driving in the tight hilly streets of Wellington…. but on steroids! I looked across to see a fellow competitor hanging on for dear life—any apprehension about the incoming stage be damned, avoiding motion sickness was a challenge in itself!
Dropping into Stage 19—Pargos—we were greeted with a howling wind, drizzle and what felt like a 10+ degree temperature drop with no shelter other than an abandoned cattle shed. Riders set off each day depending on their current overall standing, with two minute intervals in between—you’d be surprised at how many days in a row you manage to be seeded with exactly the same person! You do the math: 140 riders, two minute intervals… if you’re in the front half of the pack, it’s a long wait and, when it’s raining, it’s a cold start with already fatigued muscles.
Fortunately, for the last three days of racing I was seeded with an absolutely epic UK bunch who provided excellent chat, laughs and some reassurance when I felt genuinely concerned I was about to get blown off my bike into a rock garden at the top of a 1500m hill. Many competitors I spoke to had done the event multiple times, with this group having completed three editions, whilst others had done five or six. After completing one edition, I’ll be buying lotto tickets for the rest of my life to have every chance of coming back for more—I’d have to turn off all social media for a month to have any chance of overcoming FOMO should I not be fortunate enough to be part of the chaos again!
Some say, ‘the West Side is the best side’, and I can’t argue with that! Nestled on the faces of Ponta do Pargo and Prazeres, Stages 19-25 were among the best trails I’ve ever ridden—anywhere. Words can’t capture the pure elation of reaching the bottom of each stage, so I’ll borrow the most common sentiment of the day: *that was f**king sick*. I’d been fortunate enough to experience this side of the island previously, but it quickly became clear that I’d only had a small sample, when in reality there was a full smorgasbord of luscious trails. Natural rock gardens kept me on my toes amidst red-dirt singletrack, lined with luscious Madeira greenery that created a strikingly beautiful contrast, so much so that it was easy to forget you were even racing.
Liaisons were hard that day—grassy 4×4 tracks made for slow going on the climbs, and my blisters were such that I found it more comfortable to pedal at a ridiculously slow RPM vs. pushing my bike like the majority of those around me. The sun gods blessed us with their presence in the afternoon, and we were treated to high-speed, loamy goodness with some dustbowls thrown in—four seasons in one day! I found myself in a comfortable spinning rhythm on the final liaison, and sent a quick Snapchat to my wonderful cheerleading friends and family at home, wondering how I was going—I remember none of what I said other than; “it’s really f**cking hard but this is the best thing ever”.
Now, I’m never one to decline a mojito and, upon reaching the sandy shores of our camp in Calheta, I couldn’t say yes quick enough to the offer of a sit down and a cold bevy! After being politely told “GP, you look like you need a sit down”, I handed in my timing chip and parked up on a sun lounger overlooking the shoreline. I wasn’t surprised to see I’d finished the day in 4th—I was riding tidily, safely, but definitely had more raw speed in the tank, especially with the knowledge of a Day 2 stage win in my mind. While I wanted to slot back into 3rd overall, the elation of simply reaching the pointy end of the race was an achievement in itself, and with two days of racing to go, anything can happen—that’s the beauty of multi-day racing!
Day 5 – 38 km – 930m up – 2900m down – 6 special stages
Day 5 was a much shorter day, again dominating the west side of the island, with just five stages and no feed zone as we were scheduled to board the ferry to Porto Santo at 7pm. Once loaded onto the party bus again—and when you’re sitting with the Irish crew on the floor of an overcrowded bus, there really is no truer descriptor—the rolling circus made its way to Galhano, where we witnessed the most impressive clifftop three point turn we’d ever seen upon drop-off. Unfortunately, we left the sun down in Calheta, along with the Aperol Spritz and mojitos, and were once again faced with gale force winds, heavy drizzle and hydration mix that my tastebuds could’ve done without after five days of consumption. Stages 26-28 were exposed along the ridge-tops and my fatigued brain was working overtime to keep both wheels on the ground and my eyes on the trail ahead, especially as this was narrower singletrack than the days prior.
By this point in the race, the arm and hand pump was unreal—I had anticipated this being the case as I’m certainly not used to riding a bike for six days straight (I wish!), let alone descending thousands of metres, but I had underestimated just how much it would impact the rest of my riding form. I was compensating for my tired arms but stiffening up the rest of body, which meant I was getting pinballed around and pushed off-line easily when hitting big roots, rocks and holes. I’m a flat pedal rider, and I was getting sloppy with my weight distribution—I was blowing my feet off the pedals left, right and centre. I know when I’m riding slow and when I’m riding fast, and at the end of each stage I felt that I had so much more speed in me, but I also knew that I was at the limits of my fatigued body’s capacity to ride safely, and I was riding with a consistency that had me in 3rd overall, which well exceeded my personal goal of simply finishing the event.
I was being well and truly tested, and my mentality was playing a crucial role in ensuring my mindset was in check. I spent much of the stages talking to myself and focusing on remaining composed, especially through chunky sections, as I knew that any drastic line mishaps could result in a mid-stage lie down. Yes, I was sore, cold, tired and my blisters were hurting; yes, I was a little frustrated at my riding; and yes, I knew I wasn’t riding my best. On the flip side, each stage finish brought us closer to the end of the race. I was surrounded by great people, in a beautiful island paradise, living a bucket-list dream I’d worked so hard to prepare for in the months leading up to that moment.
Any misgivings I’d have about how I’d ridden a stage were gone in the 30 seconds it took for the crew I was riding with to reach the finish line, drowned in a sea of collective excitement and relief that we’d survived! Yes, the physical component of a multi-day event is crucial, but keeping yourself in check mentally is equally important. The highlight of the day was Stage 29—Mamma Mia—where we broke through the cloud, and dirt sliding was replaced with dirt surfing upon being treated to delightful loamy goodness.
Day 6 – 35 km – 1350m up – 1350m down – 4 special stages
You’d think that after five nights of tent life, I’d be looking forward to sleeping in an actual bed at our hotel on the island of Porto Santo. Whilst this was true, there simply aren’t enough positive phrases in the dictionary to describe how excited I was at the concept of emptying my entire bag onto the floor, as well as having a bathroom to myself, and all the space in the world to battle with getting my knee pads on in the morning. I can’t even begin to describe the relief I felt walking out the hotel room door on day six—my mindset was focused on finishing, and all I was visualising was reaching the bottom of Stage 35.
The blisters on each of my heels were now the size of Ritz crackers, and we were in for a 1350m climb day, most of which would be hike-a-bike. I was lucky enough to ride these stages in a girl’s train with Becci Skelton and Amy Watts, with Becci aptly describing the overarching sensation associated with any hike-a-bike as being “irrational irritation”—a sentiment that couldn’t be more accurate, and characterised my feelings toward the entire day. I’m not sure if it was to our benefit or detriment that we could see the entire hike-a-bike distance from the bottom to the start of Stage 32—we were midway through the pack on our way up, watching the riders wind their way up the hill face, little ants in the distance. I toggled between my bike on back and pushing it up the hill and, funnily enough, neither provided any degree of comfort.
Across all four stages, we were treated to fresh, never-raced trails enveloped by all-consuming rugged coastal vistas, in some cases barren in a way likened to no-man’s land, or Mars (whichever way you’re inclined). After girl party training our way down stages 33 and 34, the relief of reaching the start of Stage 35 after six days of riding was inexplicably good. Honestly—the rest of the day was a blur. I’m not sure if I erased the hike-a- bikes that followed from my mind or if it was the post-race beers on the beach after completely depleting myself of energy and fluids, topped off with copious poncha’s (a Madeiran speciality) that followed, but I was satisfyingly knackered. I ended up finishing 3rd overall in the women’s category— as if completing a bucket list item wasn’t enough of a treat! For the next three days I felt hungover—not from the ponchas, but from finally standing still after six days of nonstop movement.
All in all, this was an absolutely incredible journey from race sign up to the final post stage high- five’s in Porto Santo. If this isn’t on your riding bucket list, make some room and add it now.
Destination: Silvan
Words Liam Friary
Images Henry Jaine
The history of this land stretches back to the early days, when farmers burned the native bush to clear it for farming, with scrub burning remaining a regular practice until the 1980’s. In the 90’s, the Griffin family purchased the property and after one rotation of radiata pine, began transforming it from a commercial forestry operation into something special for the community.
Trail development began in earnest in 2014 through a partnership with the MTB Trails Trust, with the first stage network completed by 2018. After the final pine harvest in 2019, the Griffin family made the pivotal decision to retire the forest from commercial production and focus entirely on recreational use, amenity and environmental restoration.
Post-harvest, the Silvan Forest team moved into hands-on management, investing in rebuilding and expanding the trail network, with support from local volunteers and sponsors. Their vision extends far beyond just mountain biking—they are intending to create an industry-leading example of native regeneration, seed source enhancement, and strategic placement of exotic species to create a unique and enduring forest and recreation asset for the wider community. Today, Silvan Forest MTB Park boasts over 40 kilometres of single-track trails designed for riders of grades 3 to 6, all of which are accessible year-round and completely free to the public. The forest now features a diverse mix of macrocarpa, blackwood, eucalyptus, and wonderful patches of original old- growth native bush—along with the new plantings and naturally regenerating bush, creating riding surfaces and experiences quite different from anything else in the Nelson Tasman area.
Since those initial trails, significant progress has been made with permanent forest plantings, an expanded trail network featuring several new Grade 5 options that showcase the steeper terrain and original native gullies, creating more seamless linkages between the Silvan and the adjacent Kingsland Forest trail network, and the establishment of new facilities including the ‘Silvan Steps’ amphitheatre as an events venue.
Matt Griffin, alongside his father Rick, has been at the helm of plans to transition the forest and significantly expand the trail network in the coming years. Matt welcomed us down to experience their trails. I was eager to ride this location, which started as a working pine forest and is evolving into a solid destination for biking in Nelson Tasman—aiming to emulate the huge success of other unique local destinations like Cable Bay Adventure Park and the Wairoa Gorge.
I had to dodge floods, and some of the terrible weather patterns the top of the South Island has been battered by, just to get there. This meant our original plans had to be scrapped, and I had to find new dates on the calendar and refresh the weather apps to find a good window. It wasn’t easy in the middle of winter! Luckily, some clear and cold weather was forecasted, so I jumped on the opportunity to make this trip happen. The main crew would consist of Matt Griffin, Kieran Bennett, and myself. Amanda Pearce and Chris Mildon would also join us for one morning, to ride their hand-dug trail, De La Luna—which I’ll expand on later in the piece.
The Riding
The trail network at Silvan Forest showcases remarkable diversity, featuring mixed terrain and carefully crafted trails that cater to all riders’ abilities. The main climbing route—Alpha trail and its various sections—proved efficient and enjoyable thanks to the Santa Cruz Vala I was testing (see the full review in this issue). As the trail winds its way up the hillside, it offers expansive views across Tasman Bay. What sets Silvan apart is its strategic positioning on predominantly north-facing slopes that receive generous sunlight throughout the day. This geographic advantage makes it an exceptional year-round destination, particularly during the shorter winter months when other trails might be shrouded in the shadows and are often damp. The open canopy allows the sun’s rays to dry out the trails creating pleasant riding conditions even in the depths of winter. Even after a week of significant rainfall leading up to our visit, the trails remained in good condition. I particularly welcomed this after a rather wet winter in the North Island.
From the elevated sections, riders can choose their descent based on appetite and ability. The Santa Cruz Vala allowed me to navigate Silvan’s approximately 40 kilometres of singletrack efficiently. The driving trail development philosophy from 2014 has been ‘most of the trails for most of the riders’, so while the core trail network was built around intermediate-grade trails, recent developments have pushed the boundaries to include more challenging options spanning grades 4-6, ensuring progression pathways for advancing riders. The dedicated team at Silvan Forest, led by Matt Griffin and Chris Mildon, alongside the dedicated and unruly volunteer trail builders from the Richmond Hills Trail Carvers, have ambitious plans to add another 30 kilometres of trail within the next five to ten years. Many of these future additions will wind through areas of stunning original native bush, which will add further diversity to the trail network. As the replanted hillsides mature, they will provide a contrast to today’s open, fast- flowing trails, offering riders entirely different perspectives on the same landscape. I believe the diversification of this once-cleared then commercially forested, and now regenerated, piece of land for recreational purposes is a real gem for us and future generations.
Silvan Forest MTB Park delivers a compact yet remarkably diverse riding experience across varied terrain. During our visit, we sampled many of the park’s signature trails, including People’s Choice, Ari Mahoe, Exodus, Goliath, Spittrock, CrankYanker, De La Luna and Jericho, among many others. The trails encountered everything from fast and flowing descents to technical jump lines and tighter, rockier sections. Some trails are gnarly hand-cut from top to bottom, creating that classic, hard, techy riding that is so unique to Nelson. Despite the terrain’s natural steepness, most trails offer a good fall line. You can tell the trails have benefitted from the thoughtful planning of features, corners which ensure speed is maintained and elevation loss is good without being ultra rapid. Nearly all trails maintain those stunning bay views, making even the most challenging sections rewarding. The quality of trail construction and ongoing maintenance reflects the serious dedication that Matt, Chris and the Trail Carvers invest in the park. Several super fun and accessible freestyle sections have also been added over the last 12 months, by Kurt Lancaster and the team from Living Trails, which have ensured even more diversity to the Silvan network, and see scores of kids heading into the park each day after school.
De La Luna trail showcases what can be achieved when passion meets persistence. It first emerged from the Juliana Bicycles NZ trail project during a particularly challenging year for the mountain bike industry—we’ve all heard the stories of the boom-and-bust cycle of the industry during and post pandemic. Instead of getting hung up on those industry issues, the team at Hyperformance Hardware (Juliana Bicycles distributor) decided to put time and effort into building a new trail. This provided an opportunity to channel their energy into something lasting, resulting in the 1100 people- hours of work that went into creating De La Luna.
Leading the charge was Amanda Pearce, Sandra Williams, Mike Stylianou and Chris Mildon (the trail builder and gorse-cutter extraordinaire) who spearheaded this ambitious hand-digging operation. Chris had a strong and loyal core digging team of about eight people around him that were recharged at the end of each dig by baked treats. The trail building crew turned out rain or shine for around 50 weeks, and there were about 80 different people who can proudly say they put some mahi into this trail over the year. The trail demanded new skills and serious physical endurance as the team battled through gorse, clay, and rock across all four seasons, and required a high level of discipline to maintain the grade 4 target. De La Luna is built through some steep, typical Nelson terrain, and while it would have been easier to fall into the dreaded grade increasing fall-line trap, good discipline with maintaining target gradients at every point ensured the right result. The trail’s name, De La Luna, honours Luna, the Griffin family’s black dog, who roamed with us on most of the trails we rode. After one year of hard work and dedication the trail, with a perfect 10-degree gradient, was ready for all to ride.
As soon as you drop into De La Luna, the trail immediately reveals its hand-built character— every corner, camber, and feature carry the essence of handmade craftsmanship over machine precision. The trail’s Grade 4 technical demands become apparent quickly, with exposed sections that require genuine commitment and bike handling skills. There’s something refreshingly honest about the trail. It certainly doesn’t try to flatter your riding—instead, it challenges you to rise to its standards. The hand- cut nature means every one of the 20 turns is slightly different, preventing you from settling into a rhythm and keeping your attention fully engaged with the terrain that lays in front of you.
What makes De La Luna truly special is its diverse character across the 2.1-kilometre descent. The trail opens with those wide, exposed views across Tasman Bay, offering brief moments to appreciate the landscape before diving back into more demanding terrain. As you progress, the trail transitions through tighter, more intimate sections where the hand-built features really shine, before eventually delivering you into some nice native bush sections toward the exit. The trail rewards patience and good bike handling over raw speed.
Perhaps the slump in the bike trade isn’t a bad thing after all, as it could lead to the construction of more trails for everyone. However, a balance between the two would be beneficial. I’m impressed by what a year’s worth of hard graft can achieve. I commend Hyperformance Hardware for making something for the mountain biking community rather than getting bogged down by the state of the bike industry.
Hospitality
There’s accommodation at Silvan Forest with recently constructed rentals at the bottom of the hill. These two bed/two bath units feature sleek fit-outs and stylish furnishings, making grabbing some grub mid-ride or unwinding after days on the trails easy. While the Nelson Tasman region offers plenty of accommodation options, these deliver something uniquely valuable—you’re literally at the trailhead. I particularly liked that there’s no morning drive to get to the goods, no packing bikes onto cars after a long ride. The well-stocked kitchen allowed us to easily prepare meals and fuel up before heading straight back to the trails, creating that seamless flow between riding, resting, and riding again.
When you factor in the region’s exceptional craft beer scene, Nelson Tasman truly shines. The top of the South Island is home to some of New Zealand’s finest hops, and after experiencing Silvan’s trails, we sampled these legendary ingredients at Eddyline Tap Room, which doubles as a taqueria (Eddyline also are the dearly loved primary fluids sponsor of the Trail Carvers). The place was bustling on Friday night—always a good sign—with a relaxed atmosphere that perfectly complemented their excellent beer and delicious food. Sitting there, post-ride, with a cold beer in hand and food arriving at the table, I realised that it’s not just about the trails—it’s also about the people who surround and support riding culture. Sometimes, the best part of a riding destination isn’t just the trails themselves, but how you connect with the people behind the scenes who make everything seamless for us to enjoy. Nelson Tasman has a very high concentration of trails and a very engaged riding community, which is evident every time I visit here.
What the Griffin family and the local community have created at Silvan Forest goes well beyond just another mountain bike park. They’ve transformed a working pine forest into something genuinely special: a 40-kilometre network of thoughtfully built trails that showcase both the natural beauty of the Nelson Tasman region and the potential of community-driven trail development. The transition from commercial forestry to recreational haven tells a story that’s becoming increasingly relevant as other local (and national) landowners investigate alternate uses for steep terrain close to residential populations. As historic uses become less viable, landowners are choosing a long-term strategy with a community focus, rather than short-term profit.
The riding itself delivers on multiple levels. Those north-facing slopes aren’t just a sun trap—they enable pleasant riding all year round, especially during winter riding conditions when other locations could be dark and dank. The trail network’s continuing evolution from intermediate- focused routes to the current mix spanning grades 3-6 means there’s progression available, whether you’re starting out or pushing limits. Silvan Forest MTB Park offers a variety of trails, each with its own unique features and these readily complement the wide range of excellent MTB options in the wider region. Even with only a few days, I was able to experience a wide range of Silvan’s trails and will be venturing back.
Perhaps what impressed me most was how everything connects seamlessly. The trailhead accommodation means you pedal from the front door, the well-maintained trails reflect serious ongoing investment and commitment, and even the local scene—from Eddyline’s craft beer to the broader Nelson Tasman riding community—feels aligned with what Silvan represents. With plans for another 30 kilometres of trail development over the next five years, Silvan Forest is clearly just getting started. The vision of combining native regeneration with world-class mountain biking creates a template that other destinations would do well to follow. Sometimes the best riding experiences aren’t just about the trails themselves, but about finding places where everything from the terrain, the community, and the vision comes together perfectly. Silvan Forest MTB Park delivers exactly that kind of experience.
Crankworx Summer Series
Words & Images Liam Friary
The magnetic pull of Aotearoa’s southern landscape never fails to captivate my spirit. When the invitation arrived to journey to Christchurch for the Crankworx Summer Series, there wasn’t so much as a moment’s hesitation in my response. I packed my gear and threw in a 35mm point-and-shoot film camera – an Olympus MJU II – to capture it.
The thriving mountain biking community in Ōtautahi continues to expand impressively and leaves me in awe each time I return. Within hours of touching down, I found myself pedalling up the Port Hills and into the trails of Victoria Park; it wasn’t long before I was lost but, luckily, a smartphone makes pinning locations easier. After that I stayed not far from the back wheel of the local guides. The hours flew by and as the sun dipped we headed for some grub and beer at Moon Under Water. True to form, the place was absolutely chocka, with barely room to squeeze through the animated crowd of riders and locals. The telltale collection of mountain bikes stacked haphazardly out front proves this is indeed the place where the biking community congregates.
Before immersing myself into the Crankworx spectacle, I ventured deep into the backcountry. I like to ride before I watch riding as it gives a good energy. The alarm screamed, I ran a quick shower, and we were off before the first light of dawn—heading out to Craigieburn for a couple of hours of riding. The best way to get the most out of the trails is on an eMTB so, with the help of a local guide, we did the ‘classic hits’ of Craigieburn. It was so damn lush through the beech forest, with the mountains peeking out every so often. The trails keep you on your game with technical rooted features, exposure, and flat out fast sections—where I was hauling a bit too much at some points. Towards the back end of the ride, we filled our bottles with water from the river and washed our faces. The stoke level was high as we pedalled back and I cracked up when my eMTB ran out of juice just before reaching the truck. The legendary Sheffield Pies warranted not one but two visits, to fuel and refuel my energy stores. After a quick wash at my digs I managed to arrive at the Crankworx event in time to catch the afternoon’s competitions.
After the disappointment of the inaugural event’s cancellation, anticipation had built tremendously for this second attempt. The electric atmosphere was felt from the moment the Uber driver drew up close to the event. This was a real vibe, with groms left, right and centre, frothing. The industry’s prominent presence, combined with the genuine excitement of the locals celebrating this event in their hometown, created an infectious energy. I walked around chatting to people from the biking scene and it reminded me that we are a strong community. I mean bikes are a bloody good tool for bringing people together. The crowd was a wide spread of age groups with heaps of families. It makes me think these events keep the next generation inspired. The crowning spectacle of the Crankworx Summer Series is the Slopestyle competition. The wind had been playing a bit of havoc during practice so it was decided to move the event to early Sunday morning. I walked up the hill—the crowd was littered everywhere, in high spirits waiting for the next rider to drop. The hillside hype was infectious and being a part of live sporting action is something really special. The athletes really threw down and this grassroots event even managed to rival its bigger brother. Those few days immersed in the Crankworx Summer Series, combined with a quick trip into the backcountry, reminded me just why bikes—and the mountain biking community—are so bloody good.
Join Trail Fund as a member to support our advocacy efforts!
Words Meagan Robertson
Image Callum Wood
Not another mountain bike club membership!? Yes, we know. There’s a lot of hands out asking for your money these days, and a lot less money going around. That said, there’s also a lot of debate and drama over trail users, trail guidelines and trail etiquette – and if Trail Fund is going to continue to put its hand up and suggest some strategic ways forward, we need to be able to prove how many people believe in our cause.
What is our cause?
Trail Fund is the only national body that represents and funds trail builders throughout the country. Over the past 13 years, our volunteer- run organisation has distributed more than 120 grants, totaling more than $300,000, to 50 clubs around the country. We also made sure mountain bikers have a seat at the table when it comes to trails on public conservation land, by joining forces with Federated Mountain Clubs and New Zealand Deerstalkers Federation in 2014 to create the Outdoor Recreation Consortium (precursor to the Backcountry Trust).
Our advocacy representative, Jimmy, has also been working tirelessly for six years to realign DOC’s re-classification of bikes on public conservation land as ‘vehicles’, in 2018. It caused significant delays to projects around the country, leaving several passionate volunteers feeling defeated. It also meant that iconic trailsincluding several Great Rides – did not comply.
It’s been a slow process but Jimmy and representatives from various other local clubs are finally gaining traction, and earlier this year he prepared the Trail Fund submission for the Department of Conservation (DOC) on the modernization of conservation and management. This submission can be found on the Trail Fund website and recommends adopting an effects-based approach, improving resource allocation within DOC and ensuring a more equitable concession system.
Back to the money and membership.
As above, we aren’t doing this for the money – we’re doing it for the memberships, and we will have two different levels – individuals and clubs.
Individual memberships are $8 and include a Trail Fund member sticker – or free when you purchase any Trail Fund item in our online shop for the next two months.
Club memberships – which automatically translate to individual memberships for every club member – will be $25. Clubs will need to be members to apply for funding rounds going forward.
That’s the gist. No drama, little money, big impact.
We look forward to welcoming you to the club – officially!
April funding round now open!
Got your membership sorted? We have two ebarrows and ten Weapon of Mass Creation tools up for grabs – so get your application in now. Applications will be accepted until 15 May.
Learn more:
trailfund.org.nz/products/trail-fund-nz-membership-2
Straya: Trails and tales from the Aussie Outback
Words & Images Jamie Nicoll & Anja Foley
Imagine: hot, red desert sand; endless horizons; crimson balls of sunset; hot springs; bike-length lizards; crocodiles and sea turtles cruising around the turquoise Timor Sea; flocks of green budgies; waterfalls crashing over bright orange cliffs; ancient Indigenous culture; camping under the stars–and stillness. “Castel like” serenity! This is Outback Australia. This is where our bikes have taken us.
Along with Collin the Landcruiser, we (Jamie and Anja) have returned to Australia for a second stint of overlanding adventure with the continued mission of riding in remote and unusual places.
Arriving at our friend’s place in Coffs Harbour, New South Wales, we were so excited to be reunited with Collin and rejoiced in the comforts of our all-in-one adventure vehicle—Collin had been parked at our friend’s place on the East Coast for the past six months. We immediately jumped on our bikes and headed out for a few rides at the local Saw Mill trails—a simple little park with sand-based trails. We enjoyed the nice flow and the fun log rides scattered throughout, but it was soon time to fuel up (a cool 250 litres), fill the water tank, restock our provisions and complete some maintenance before heading off. This year’s mission was to head into the Red Centre, crossing the Madigan Line, the most remote track in the Simpson Desert, before taking a northern course to Arnhem Land via Kakadu National Park just east of Darwin.
A day’s drive from the coast, we stopped at Durrigo National Park; a ride that feels like being transported back in time. We checked out the rainforest trails, sitting at roughly 1000 metres in elevation. Durrigo is known for its remnants of ancient forests that are linked back to Gondwana Land.
The Rosewood trail, a shared track, was a superb ride with its exhilarating fast flow and technical creek crossings. A speedy traversing descent on steep terrain made for high concentration, and staying wary of the numerous vines hanging across the track. We stopped so often, captured by the tall ancient trees with huge buttress roots. We climbed around waterfalls flowing down massive boulders and even jumped into the ice-cold river for a very quick morning dip.
A couple thousand kilometres later, we were at Tibooburra, a very remote outback town on the edge of the Strzelecki Desert. It is best known for its 450-million-year-old granite tors. This was a quick ride, but great to stretch our legs on the long drive. Heading up this loop track set amongst a field of ancient granite boulders, provided a mix of smooth track and very technical rock manoeuvres. It was scorching hot too and our daily cold banana smoothies were calling.
The riding was hugely spread out as we crossed the massive continent. We had already woven our way across the Strzelecki and Stuart Deserts using the abandoned Walkers Crossing to get us near to Birdsville, the edge of the next big nothing. As we wanted to explore more of the outback, we now had the huge Simpson Desert to cross to get to our next riding destination: Alice Springs.
The Madigan Line, our most direct route, also meant a lot of sand and over 1,100 dunes to scramble up. Red sand flew as the low-pressure tyres searched for traction, with low-range gears in full use and the right foot deeply engaged. Bouncing around for hours, and then arriving at camp, there is nothing quite like the stillness, the crimson sunsets and sunrises, and sleeping around campfires under the stars.
Pulling into Alice was a chance to restock and do maintenance after the extremely rugged outback crossing. It is one rough crossing that’s for sure, with uncountable bottom outs on our new and raised suspension and heavy corrugations battering everything for hours on end. Our mountain bike community was right there behind us, and we were able to use addresses to receive parts with others welding up cracked bike racks and providing us with a camp spot and hot showers. One of them, Chris, has been the most excellent man to know. He rang up and offered to show us around a new trail network while we were there.
Some 30km of trail, all built by one man, Mark’s network sits near Owen Springs, southwest of Alice. Many Alice Springs riders haven’t even heard about these trails, let alone ridden them. They’re well suited for eBikes as the additional speed creates a lot of fun on less gravity- orientated sections. Rocketing along on flat sections, and weaving our way through narrow stands of trees, we followed dry river beds up and down rocky outcrops, and long spinifex grass, constantly careful of tyre placements on the many abrasive slab rock sections.
Darwin sits on the coast, 1500km directly north of Alice. East of Darwin is a traditional Aboriginal area called Arnhem Land. On this route north, just outside of Katherine, we pulled into Nitmiluk NP – the bike trails here are built on the escarpments, high above the Katherine Gorge. The tracks weave between boulder fields and over playful slab rock sections, leaving us smiling, with descriptive chatter flowing. To finish, we dived into the sparkling thermal steam in town, leaving us stoked and refreshed. And, if that wasn’t enough, our new friend Andrew, the local MTB club president, turned out to be an ex-crocodile hunter who back in the day would jump on the backs of up to eight-foot-long saltwater crocs and bring them up to a boat for scientific research tagging. He regaled us with stories of his youth, diving—yes, diving not jumping—from 200-foot (61m) towers into the sea at Port Darwin, and even his time on the set of Crocodile Dundee. Being an ex-park ranger with excellent storytelling skills, Andrew is a walking encyclopaedia for all things nature-related. He was so entertaining that his stories distracted us on even the longest climbs.
Arnhem land and the Cobourg Peninsular, as a riding destination, are not mentioned anywhere that we found, so we thought it sounded like a great start. Once again, this meant filling the full 250 litres of diesel to make the distance there and back on these remote roads.
Arnhem Land has been an Aboriginal stronghold for over 65,000 years. British colonizers struggled to create a lasting presence here due to the extreme tropical conditions, leaving the indigenous population and their way of living comparatively undisturbed. Aboriginal elder of the area clan, Violet Smith, quotes; “Long ago we Jawoyn lived here. The old people have passed on. It’s okay for you to go around here. You stay maybe two nights, then you go back to your country”.
Our efforts to get the correct permits would test even the most tenacious administrator. Getting into Arnhem Land from the west means traversing the Kakadu National Park with its stunning rock gorges and deep plunge pools. Even the accepted swimming spots are somewhat “at your own risk” as from time to time a saltwater croc has made its way into these pools undetected, avoiding the purpose-built traps and monitoring. Oh, but these pools are so delightfully refreshing—we were now well into the 40-degree zone with high humidity which makes any type of exercise, including a leisurely bike ride, feel like a workout.
The border to Arnhem Land is via the famous ford at Cahills Crossing on the East Alligator River, most famous for its large saltwater crocs swimming around on either side of the vehicle—as you can imagine, it is not a place to get stuck that’s for sure. We counted 12 crocs in the water around us as we drove across the river, all waiting for the fish to come over the rocks with the tidal shift. From our camp, there was a sweet 40km bike ride around Smith Point, the northern tip of Garig Gunak Barlu National Park on the Cobourg Peninsula. With the vastness of the Timor Sea in the background, Olive Ridley sea turtles coming on shore to lay their eggs, and an epic UNESCO wetland, the ride became a well-rounded experience.
After an epic trip through the most remote parts of Australia, Jamie and Anja are planning on shipping Collin over to South Korea, to access Russia, Mongolia, and many of the Stans, en route to Europe. Stay tuned for more adventures.
Leaders of the New School
Words & Images Riley McLay
New Zealand has recently experienced a golden age of downhill racers, putting our small country on the map as a powerhouse of talent. Originally, it was riders like Brook Macdonald, Sam Blenkinsop and Wyn Masters who stood out for their raw speed mixed with a relaxed outlook on racing, creating an international reputation that showcased the spirit of New Zealand’s mountain biking culture.
The torch was then passed to the VANZACS, where the talent pool increased with the likes of Eddie Masters, George Brannigan and Matt Walker redefining what was required to find racing success. This was the era of incorporating the DIY mentality of getting the job done by any means necessary with a lifestyle-based approach to building their careers. While both cohorts of talent found success at the World Cup level, New Zealand has since experienced a noticeable gap in racers transitioning from juniors to elite success. Now, however, New Zealand is home to an influx of junior talent already making waves globally.
Aotearoa has always had a strong racing scene at the grassroots level, but breaking onto the international stage comes with significant challenges. Kiwi racers have consistently faced two major barriers to competing internationally. One being the fact that, as you can imagine, chasing the World Cup circuit isn’t cheap; and two, our geographical isolation, making travel something of an ordeal. With the sport largely based in Europe, traveling back and forth from New Zealand isn’t practical for most people. Instead, riders must base themselves there for most of the season, which can be three to four months. The financial burden is high even before racing begins, not to mention when you factor in race fees, insurance, spare parts and essential nutrition. The mental strain of just getting to races isn’t ideal when a racer is chasing good results. This is why external funding and sponsorships are so crucial for success.
As the sport becomes more professional, privateers are increasingly being pushed out of competition. This makes securing a spot on a factory team more important than ever. Recent UCI rule changes have made it even harder for privateers to qualify for a World Cup, so riders must now earn UCI points through a new feeder series called the Continental Cup. Finishing in the top five of any Continental Cup Series grants access to the next World Cup on the calendar. Alternatively, winning their country’s National or Continental Championship guarantees automatic entry for the season. Confusing, I know. And yet another hurdle for Kiwi riders, making strategic race planning more critical than ever.
New Zealand riders have been fortunate to hone their skills on some of the world’s best downhill tracks, contributing to the development of top-tier talent. Over the years, as mountain biking’s popularity has grown, there’s been a collective effort to expand and improve existing networks to meet increasing demand. As a result, New Zealand has become a go-to destination for the world’s best riders to train during the Northern Leaders of the New School Hemisphere off-season. We’ve all seen clips of the likes of Ronan Dunne and Jackson Goldstone going full throttle down the Coronet DH track. With social media being so accessible, having the world’s best riders on our shores not only provides incredible exposure for mountain biking in New Zealand, but it also inspires a new generation to take up the sport. As more kids get into biking, many want to try racing and push their own limits—so much so that the Secondary School Nationals have been sold out year after year.
Honing talent at an early age is the best way to develop habits for success, but balancing race results with the need to play into the social media game to get noticed, can be tricky. Marketing yourself as a junior rider has always been challenging, but the landscape has shifted with new changes to the UCI World Cup format. Now, junior riders not only have their runs televised on race-day broadcasts, but their UCI points are also valued equally to those of elite racers. As a result, teams see greater value in including junior riders—not just for long-term development, but also for securing enough points to qualify their team for the season.
Talent seems to come through in waves, and a new generation of Kiwi downhill racers is already making its mark on the world stage. It all kicked off with Jenna Hastings bursting into the spotlight, winning the Junior World Championships in Les Gets in 2022. Then, in 2023, New Zealand stole the show once again with a clean sweep of the podium at World Champs, thanks to Erice van Leuven, Poppy Lane, and Sacha Earnest. Erice went on to become a back-to-back Junior World Champion and overall series champion in 2024, securing a sought-after contract with one of the biggest teams on the circuit, Norco Race Division. Sacha’s impressive efforts didn’t go unnoticed either—she was picked up by Trek Factory Racing. Young phenom, Eliana Hulsebosch, impressed by securing a deal with the Santa Cruz Syndicate after a breakout season in 2024 on The Union. Eliana consistently finished in the top five and clinched her first World Cup win in Val di Sole, Italy.
In the junior male category, several Kiwi riders have been making a strong impact on the World Cup stage, with Oli Clark and Rory Meek standing out with a number of impressive top 20 finishes in 2024. After missing over half the season due to injury, Tyler Waite made a strong comeback, finishing fourth at the World Championships, second at Loudenvielle, and third at Mont-Sainte-Anne to round out the season. Being part of a powerhouse team like Yeti Factory Racing, with the experience of riders like Richie Rude and Camille Balanche to learn from, he will undoubtedly have plenty of eyes on him in 2025. Finally, Luke Wayman was the epitome of consistency last season, securing second place in the UCI World Cup junior overall and never finishing outside the top 10 in any race. In 2025, Luke will be riding for Continental Atherton Racing—a team led by a legend of the sport, Gee Atherton. Also, becoming teammates with 2023 World Champion, Charlie Hatton, will provide the perfect environment to build into his first year in the elite ranks.
Development race teams are not a new concept, but Envision Racing aims to expand its rider’s opportunities—not just in racing, but by helping them build connections for careers beyond the track. Founded by Cam Cole and Liam Jackson, the team provides industry support to help riders compete while also teaching them the expectations of becoming professionals in the sport. Cam’s experience and connections as a former World Cup racer, and Liam’s marketing expertise, helps mentor riders to understand their value to sponsors while still being appreciative of the opportunities given. While raw speed gets you on a team’s radar, Envision Racing values a combination of attitude and work ethic above all else. Envision Racing’s goal is to minimize upfront costs for their riders by supplying them with a bike and gear for the season. Riders can then sell their previous setups to fund travel and chase races. The 2025 race season has already delivered strong results for the team. Rider Cole Hulsebosch claimed victory in the Under 17 category at the National Championships in Rotorua, a perfect way to kick off the year as he prepares for his Northern Hemisphere season. Meanwhile, Jonty Williamson’s standout performances have earned him a contract with Yeti Factory Racing for 2025. This marks a major success for the Envision Racing team, whose mission is to serve as a steppingstone for opportunities like this. Inspired by top development programs overseas, Envision Racing remains committed to identifying and nurturing young talent, helping them reach their full potential.
The NZ MTB Academy offers a fresh alternative to the traditional development team model, bridging gaps in an athlete’s progression to help them succeed on the international stage. Founded by Sam Thompson, the academy draws on his extensive experience running mountain bike programs and coaching in the gravity space, equipping Kiwi riders with the knowledge and support needed to navigate the World Cup racing scene more effectively. What sets the academy apart is its flexibility. It works with riders, whether they are on a team or not, fostering lasting relationships for the future. It also provides opportunities for senior riders, such as Tuhoto-Ariki Pene, to take on mentoring roles, passing down firsthand knowledge that they have learnt to the next generation. Being competitive in New Zealand is one thing, but succeeding internationally requires a deep understanding of training, nutrition, and sports psychology to gain an edge. The academy primarily targets junior riders who demonstrate the right attitude, a genuine willingness to learn, and a passion for racing—not just the lifestyle that comes with it.
This past October, the Academy hosted one of its largest camps yet, with around 40 kids in Rotorua. Their future goal is to support as many riders as possible as they progress in the sport, not only during the off-season but also by providing logistical support on the ground while they compete overseas. This structure will ensure that future waves of young Kiwi riders can continue to make their mark on the world stage, and carry forward the legacy of those who came before them—proving that New Zealand will remain a force to be reckoned with for years to come.
Expedition Pakistan: Riding Gilgit - Baltistan
Words by Mike Dawson
Images by Adam Kadervak
The idea for this mission kicked off in classic style; a post-ride beer session in Rotorua, talking big dreams and wild ideas. Ideas like:
What if we rode Pakistan? The thought of biking a region bordering the Himalayas, Hindu Kush, and Karakorams, with its mind-blowing scenery and raw, undiscovered trails, was too good to ignore. Fast-forward months of meticulous planning, permit wrangling, and local connections, and we were on a plane bound for Skardu, ready to ride where few had ridden before.
Pakistan is rarely the first place that comes to mind when you think of world-class MTB destinations. But that’s exactly what made it so intriguing. This wasn’t a place packed with bike parks and guidebooks—it was terra incognita, a place where every trail was a new discovery and every ride an exploration. This was adventure riding in its purest form, with no safety net.
Our dream team was made up of a killer crew of riders from Rotorua, New Zealand, bringing the perfect mix of skill, stoke, and a positive attitude. Leading the charge was Jamie Garrod, mastermind behind New Zealand Mountain Biking, whose guiding expertise was invaluable.
Matt Miller, the tech wizard and founder of Brake Ace, pushed gear performance to the edge, while Jeff Carter, a world-class trail builder, had an unmatched eye for perfect lines. Adam Kadervak, the cinematic genius, captured every insane moment through his lens, ensuring the adventure was documented in all its glory. Rosie Clarke, a Rotorua ripper, was ready for the ultimate challenge, bringing fearless energy to the group. Rounding out the squad was Mike Dawson, a whitewater kayaker turned MTB explorer, diving headfirst into the unknown.
Rolling into Skardu, the gateway to the world’s highest peaks, was the moment it all got real. The town buzzed with life and rich culture, dwarfed by 7,000m+ peaks standing like ancient giants. Local hospitality was next-level—warm welcomes, endless chai, and curious smiles on weather-hardened faces set the tone.
We loaded a couple of old Toyota Hiluxes, using a little local ingenuity (plus some sleeping pads and carpet), and had the bikes strapped in. The road to our first trail was an adventure all on its own— leaving Skardu, we ascended onto the Deosai Plateau in a chaotic mix of dust, rocks, and sheer drop-offs that kept us white-knuckled the whole way. Our local crew, Taju and Hamish, navigated the hairpin bends with the casual confidence of people who’d done this a thousand times, dodging cows, boulders, and the occasional landslide as we climbed higher into the mountains.
Our first taste of Pakistan was an ordeal. From the Deosai Plateau, we had spotted a faint shepherd’s trail climbing over a high pass, dropping into the Sok Valley and tracing the river from its mountain source thousands of metres down into the Indus Valley. It looked like an absolute dream—an untouched descent of epic proportions.
But reality hit us hard.
Almost immediately, the altitude kicked in like a hammer. We crawled up the climb, battling brutal headaches, stomach discomfort and waves of nausea. It was survival mode—legs like lead, lungs burning, bodies completely unacclimatized to the thin air. The higher we climbed, the worse it got. Finally, we crested the pass, convinced we were about to drop into endless hero dirt. Instead, what lay ahead was a nightmare of boulders, relentless bike carrying, and scattered sections of rideable trail barely enough to keep our spirits alive.
Darkness fell and suddenly we were lost; cold and dangerously unprepared. No proper food, little warmth; our bodies running on empty. Desperation kicked in as we stumbled upon a derelict rock shelter, where we built a small fire and huddled for the night, teeth chattering against the harsh alpine air.
Morning brought a new mission: survival riding down to Sok Valley. Sore, exhausted, but driven by sheer necessity, we began our descent. With every metre we dropped, the trail transformed—what started as a mess of scree and loose rock slowly turned into bedded-in singletrack, winding through exposed ridgelines and sheer drops. It was technical, sketchy and terrifying—but also completely exhilarating.
Later that afternoon, we finally rolled into the first village; drained but stoked beyond belief. It had been one hell of an introduction to Pakistan—a brutal, beautiful lesson in what adventure really means. This was definitely Type 2 fun.
We continued on our mission, driving through the Indus Gorge to the Gilgit Valley for our next stop: Rakaposhi (7,788m)—climbing to the base camp of one of the most stunning peaks on Earth. After a rest day exploring the dusty town of Gilgit, we pushed deep into Hunza Valley, arriving in Minapin. From here, we shouldered our bikes and began climbing. The ascent was brutal—endless switchbacks, scorching sun, lungs burning. But our altitude adaptation was improving, and our excitement fueled us forward. Alpine meadows gave way to glacier-fed rivers, scree slopes, and ridgelines begging to be ridden.
After a night at high altitude, we woke to sun-drenched peaks and began perhaps the best descent on the planet. Over 1,500m of drop, over 10km of wild singletrack. The mix of fast, flowy sections, steep rock gardens, and tight technical moves kept every rider on their toes. This was raw, natural riding—nothing built, nothing groomed— just pure stoke at the discovery of an epic trail.
After refuelling on slow-cooked lamb curry and a few Cokes, we set off for our final mission—Fairy Meadows; the legendary alpine pasture beneath Nanga Parbat (8,126m).
The journey up was insane—2,000m of elevation gain, bikes strapped to the back of tiny Jeeps, inching up a sheer cliffside road. By nightfall, we were hiking in complete darkness, and the altitude was hitting us hard.
The payoff? Waking up to an unreal sunrise over Nanga Parbat. Then—time to ride. The descent was absolute madness—natural flow sections, chunky rock gardens and exposed ridges. Donkeys popped out of corners, the views were unreal. By the time we hit the valley floor, high fives were flying and stoke levels were through the roof.
Pakistan delivered the adventure of a lifetime. Gilgit-Baltistan is an untamed paradise for mountain biking—huge elevation, jawdropping scenery and raw, technical terrain. But this trip was about more than just trails—it was about the people. The hospitality of northern Pakistan was unmatched—locals welcomed us like family, sharing their food, stories, and endless cups of chai.
As we packed up and boarded our flight out of Skardu, still covered in trail dust, we knew this had been no ordinary adventure. It was a fullblown expedition into the unknown—one that redefined what’s possible on a mountain bike.
The trails are untouched, the mountains are calling, and the next great ride is waiting.
Dig. Ride. Repeat
Words by Lester Perry
Images by Cameron MacKenzie & Jim Topliss
Name a sport more diverse than mountain biking. From downhill to cross-country, slopestyle to freeride – the list goes on. Each discipline demands its own unique blend of skill, fitness and creativity – yet for years, competition was the only viable way for riders to make a living, with no alternative to fall back on.
With the rise of social media, however, everything has changed. Riders were suddenly able to diversify and build their own platforms, allowing them to market themselves, promote the brands that support them, and even create their own in the process.
Flux Trail was an early adopter of this concept, leveraging their collective following and reputation to build a business with its own identity—one that combines their passion for digging and riding. Headed by Remy Morton, Jacob O’Donoghue-Price and David McMillan, this group of friends set out to fill a gap in the market while still carving their own lane in the culture, embracing the digger-rider lifestyle that has helped them to continue their careers as professional athletes.
Remy Morton’s life has revolved around bikes from the very beginning. He started racing BMX at just three years old and quickly became a prodigy. His weekends were soon spent chasing races up and down the east coast of Australia, dominating the competition at every turn. In his spare time, he began digging jumps and trails in the backyard, always looking for ways to go bigger. The backyard acted as a training ground for Remy but also allowed him to hone his own style as a rider. His passion was so infectious that even his father, Jim, got himself a bike just to keep up with the fun. Remy’s love for riding soon led him to downhill racing where, at just 11 years old, he made such an impression that the state championships had to create a new category just so he could compete. This is where Remy flourished. No longer just trying to outpace his older brother at local races, he soon found himself in Europe, competing against some of the best at World Cups. He stood out not only for his impressive results but also for his relaxed signature style on the bike, quickly becoming a favorite of the media on the track. In 2017, Remy’s love for big air and wanting to push his own limits found him at Loosefest, a freeride event in Belgium. Unfortunately, Remy overshot one of the final features on the course, resulting in a career- altering crash. The injuries he sustained meant that pursuing racing was no longer an option.
After taking some time to reflect on the accident, Remy packed up and moved to Queenstown to reset himself. He had always aspired to be the best rider he could be but, without racing, he wasn’t sure what that would look like moving forward. Inspired by the likes of Nico Vink, Loosefest founder and former World Cup racer, Remy used the social media following he’d gained from racing, along with his passion for digging, to grow a framework where he could balance creating riding content and building trails to make a living. Recognising an untapped niche in the content space, Remy began to market himself as a ‘bike park’ rider, creating edits and content for social media while simultaneously gaining more professional digging experience. In 2019, with the help of Tom Hey, Remy had the opportunity to join the Elevate Trail crew, contributing to the Crankworx Innsbruck build. While he was over in Europe, he also had the chance to work on the Loosefest build with Nico and the crew. Not only did he get redemption by riding at the same venue where he had his accident, but he also walked away with the King of Loosefest Award.
It didn’t take long for sponsors to take notice of this new lane he was carving for himself, most notably with Remy securing a deal with Red Bull in 2020. However, it wasn’t enough for him to stop working. When Covid hit, like many of us, he found himself rethinking the future. Over a few beers, he and Jacob O’Donoghue-Price brainstormed ways to fund the lifestyle they had always dreamed of. The result? Flux Trail. They set out with a goal to elevate the quality of trails in New Zealand, inspired by the world-class tracks Remy had ridden in bike parks in Europe and Canada. The timing couldn’t have been better, with several trail network expansions planned for the Queenstown area, it was the perfect moment to knuckle down and go for it. While both had trail-building experience and Jacob having worked on the Skyline Bike Park trail crew, neither had any idea about how to run a business. They also had to learn how to operate machinery themselves, as hiring an operator wasn’t feasible. Finding labor was never a challenge, however, as they could always rely on their extended group of friends to hop on board to tackle any project at hand.
One of the first to join them was David McMillan, a close friend with a similar upbringing to Remy. He’d also spent much of his youth building not- so-legal trails and jumps around his home just outside of Canberra. Dave had always dreamed of turning biking into a career which, like Remy, led him down the racing path. Competing in World Cups, he dedicated years to chasing the circuit but eventually realised his speed wasn’t quite at the level needed to win races. Rather than stepping away, he shifted his mindset—if he couldn’t win the race, he’d try to win the practice sessions by drawing as much media attention as he could. This, along with filming videos for the VANZACS brand, kept sponsors engaged and eager to continue working with Dave. However, he too found himself needing extra income to maintain a comfortable life. Wanting to stay in the industry and seeing the opportunities that trail building can bring, he bought into the company and became a co-owner of Flux Trail. Already knowing Remy from their time in the racing scene, and Jacob from summers spent in Queenstown, it was a perfect fit.
In 2021, the crew was approached by Red Bull to do a build for a video project with Remy; Seven Days and 7k. They were tasked with building a ‘DHT’-style trail from scratch, which would later be donated to Boomerang Farm Bike Park, near where Remy grew up just outside of the Gold Coast. DHT is a style synonymous with Flux Trail, blending the flow of BMX trails with the larger air of downhill riding. This was the first real test for Flux, as they had never had to work within such a tight deadline and budget. Remy’s experience with digging in this environment allowed them to leverage his knowledge of the terrain, creating a trail that was not only thrilling to ride but also visually captivating for the audience. The boys knew they really had to rip in and, after seven grueling 14-hour days, the trail was complete–all that was left was to film the segment and enjoy the fruits of their labour. This opened their eyes to what the team was capable of, not only serving as the perfect first piece in their portfolio, but also providing reassurance that they could build high-quality individual features and seamlessly connect them into a functional and cohesive trail. Confident in what they had learned in Australia, Flux took on contracts to apply their unique approach to trail design, bringing their fresh perspective to the existing networks of Skyline and Cardrona Bike Parks. The team wanted riders to flow down trails as smoothly as water on a waterslide, drawing much of their inspiration from water parks such as Wet ‘n Wild. This is where the name ‘Flux’ comes from; representing the action or process of flowing.
Flux quickly started to make a name for themselves, but what truly set them apart from other trail crews was their ability to design and build custom trails—not just for their own film projects, but for other athletes as well. One of their most ambitious projects to date came when they were once again approached by Red Bull to create a tailor-made downhill track that matched the raw style of World Cup racer, Brook MacDonald. Not only was it a dream project to collaborate with someone the team had long admired, but it was also an opportunity to showcase Flux’s work on the world stage. It was the first top-to-bottom trail they had built on a raw hillside, but the opportunity to work on an iconic video was one that couldn’t be turned down. The boys may have been slightly out of their depth taking on a project of this size, but they believe that stepping into challenges like this is the best way to grow. The exposed hillside posed a significant challenge when it came to operating machinery, especially when factoring in unpredictable weather conditions and varying terrain, however, the ability to balance these challenges while still creating a product that seamlessly and sustainably integrates with the environment has become the cornerstone of their work. The trust athlete’s place in the trail’s safety and functionality is crucial, as they know the Flux crew draw on their own riding experience to design trails they would ride themselves. This formula continued to evolve with Flux Trail using these build projects as an effective way to market their services. They went on to work on builds for Harriet Burbidge-Smith and were even scouted to contribute to a segment in Brendan Fairclough’s Death Grip 2 movie. This served as a point of recognition for both the company and Dave, who was featured in the segment riding the very features he had built.
Flux Trail has come full circle, once again securing the contract for the Crankworx Cairns build in collaboration with World Trail. This time, they’re not designing a course for just one athlete, they’re creating multiple courses for over a hundred. With plenty of opinions to navigate, ever-changing plans, and the need to adapt on the fly, the team embraces the challenge while understanding the immense pressure that comes with a job like this. Millions of dollars are on the line with an event of this scale, meaning missing a deadline is not an option. Collaborating with a world- renowned organisation like World Trail allows them to learn from their years of experience in the industry, continuing to raise their own standards and pushing their limits as builders. Remy has always stood by his goal of changing sport, but he also wants to make a lasting impact on the trail-building industry. Seeing the results Flux has achieved, he and his team recognise the business model’s potential for the future. Their vision is to build an organisation at the forefront of an ever- evolving sport—one that brands can trust and return to for delivering the highest quality trails possible. All while progressing their own riding to become the riders they have always aspired to be.
Transitions: Jayden Fleming
Words by Lester Perry
Images by Cameron MacKenzie & Jim Topliss
From “riders ready, watch the gate” and chasing milliseconds on the velodrome, to dual slalom and front flips and cash-rolls, Jayden Fleming’s career on the bike has followed many paths. Having ridden for 18 years, he’s found his lane and it seems he’s only just beginning.
Life is about taking chances and seeing where a chosen path may lead. At age six, these decisions aren’t given much thought, and interest can bounce between ideas and activities multiple times a day — or even within a single hour. At just six years old, Jayden chanced upon an invite to a BMX ‘have a go’ session while talking to someone from his school.
‘‘I remember pretty clearly, I was walking home from school and someone next to me, who I didn’t know, had a flyer that their class had been given. He handed it to me and said; ‘‘Hey, do you want this?’’ I looked at it then took it home and showed mum. The flyer promised ‘three nights free’ or something, and my mum agreed we’d go down. So I went along — and found love straight away. My sister was doing gymnastics at the time and mum said, ‘‘hey, you can do this too, but you’ve got to quit gymnastics’’ — thinking there’s no way she would do that. But, she did. And that’s how it became a pretty cool little family affair,’’ explains Jayden.
“BMX is such a family sport, and you see it with so many families. The whole family’s involved; very rarely is it just one child. We ended up spending all of our weekends together, going away, travelling and going to races. It was super cool to be involved in such a family sport. I can’t think of too many others where the whole family is at an event together. Normally, you might get one kid off to rugby while the other is going to netball. So, that’s something pretty special—not just with BMX, but bikes in general.”
By 2009 (aged nine), BMX led Jayden to trans-Tasman racing, firstly at the ‘Track Attack’ in Melbourne. Six races, over nine days, on six different race tracks. “That was a really cool way to touch the edges of what international racing was. I’m still friends with some of those guys I met then who kept on riding and, obviously, with social media and stuff now, I’ve kept those friends along the way.” Later that year, he competed in his first World Champs in Adelaide.
These early international races gave Jayden a taste for travel, and he knew he wanted more. He went on to race at the World Cup level, his BMX career taking him to more than a dozen countries. While preparing to race at the Grand Nationals, the USA’s biggest race meet, he crashed and smashed his wrist to pieces. Nine hours under the surgeon’s knife and 17 pieces of metal later, he began his build back to racing.
Once school was behind him, Jayden moved from Auckland to Cambridge in the quest to chase the highest accolades in BMX.
The NZ North Island BMX Championships in 2018 triggered another transition for Jayden. He took his first Elite win at the event, riding high, happy with his performance and enjoying his time on the bike… until his luck ended. “I had a silly crash on a pump track in Cambridge where I just looped out and put my leg out. I’d never done it before, but my knee kind of stretched and popped, and I was like, ‘I guess that’s what a ruptured ACL feels like’. And lo and behold, it was. I did my ACL, MCL, and meniscus,” says Jayden.
Eleven years of hard graft chasing the BMX dream came to a halt and, once his knee was put back together, his focus shifted to getting back to the pointy end of the sport.
With surgery complete, and unable to ride BMX during recovery, Jayden’s eyes were opened to some of the other cycling on offer in the Cambridge area, and he began riding on the Velodrome to help regain strength and fitness. “I got pretty hooked into that and eventually got invited into the track development space there. I got into it because, at the time, I wasn’t training with many people. I was still training with people now and again, but a lot of it was by myself on the BMX. I loved the whole community aspect that track gave me at the time, where everyone was training together all the time in one space. It was really social and, at the time, it felt like there was more opportunity and support to pursue track cycling from the governing body than BMX had.”
The NZ BMX High-Performance program disbanded in 2016, leaving riders scraping together their coaching, support, and funding. With no firm development pathway to the top tier in BMX from the governing body, track cycling provided Jayden with an avenue to chase his dreams of being the best in the world. “I could never realistically see myself winning Olympic medals or being the best of the best. But, to me, becoming a pro cyclist was something that I saw as potentially achievable – and a goal that I wanted to pursue.”
Jayden spent time at the ‘Regional Track Hub’, a short-lived program created to identify and develop young talent and prepare them for the High-Performance squad and, ultimately, Olympic medals.
“A lot of the people from that program have gone on to the Olympics, and a lot of people have medals. We are all really grateful for what it was, but I think we’re missing it now – that space is gone, obviously, with funding issues.”
In October of 2021, on the freshly laid asphalt of Cambridge’s Velosolutions pump track, Jayden raced in the Red Bull Pump Track World Champs qualifier event. He turned heads immediately, partly for racing in a road cycling helmet, but more for his raw power and speed. Although he’d not been on the BMX much before the event, his natural talent shone, and he mixed it with the purist BMX racers to finish third in a tightly fought battle.
“I’d still get my BMX bike out every now and then. I’d go to a gates night, but only once a month or so, and then come back just for national champs. That would have been early 2021.”
As impressive as he was on the Velodrome, Jayden’s time on the boards ended abruptly. The national track coach at that time took Jayden to a pub and sat him down: “You’re the wrong body type, you’re fully developed, you’re not going to go any faster, you’re not going to go to the Olympics; you should quit.” He explained that he’d be better suited to downhill MTB racing than track cycling.
“At the time, it was pretty brutal and not what I wanted to hear. I thought my hopes and dreams were all over, but now, looking back on it, he was trying to help me.”
After just two years of rapid progression, Jayden’s time on the track looked to be coming to an end and with no firm goals or plans ahead, Jayden felt he was a bit of a lost cause, struggling to figure out what direction to take his cycling. “I had this old crappy BMX bike that I’d had for years, and I kind of just started riding that and having fun. It was real interesting trying to learn new things.”
While still deciding if he was entirely done with track cycling, Jayden sat down with current Olympian, Sam Dakin, to try and get some clarity and answer the question; “where to from here?”
“He sat me down and said; ‘Why do we do the sport?’ And he went through this really cool explanation. ‘We do it for that six-second euphoric feeling when you win a race. How often have you felt that way with track?’ And I was like; ‘well, once or twice in the past year and a half.’ In my mind, it all clicked. I had just felt that same feeling three times in the past week learning these new tricks.”
Crankworx was six months down the road; so, toward the end of 2021, Jayden set his sights on climbing the freestyle MTB competition ladder, hoping for an entry to speed-and-style. “At the time, I could do a flip and that was about it. If I could get an entry to speed and style at Rotorua, that would keep me busy for six months.” Next up was to find a bike worthy of the task. In stepped Tim White (OG BMX and MTB industry player), who plugged Jayden into the ILABB team and connected him with Marin Bikes, who took a punt on him; an as-yet unproven quantity with big MTB dreams.
The weather played havoc with course conditions at the 2021 Crankworx Rotorua, or “Wetworx” as many dubbed it. Slalom was a tough pill to swallow as Jayden and many others battled what had become a slippery slide of a course. The result was one he’d forget, and a steep learning curve – but consistent results at the remaining Crankworx Rotorua events and Crankworx NZ Summer Series – led him to a complete the 2022 World Tour, circumnavigating the globe for the first time, gaining valuable experience in the big leagues. Although satisfying his wanderlust, the season left him wanting more.
Crankworx Whistler, in 2022, remains a highlight of Jayden’s cycling career as he slayed the pump-track competition to take third place. On a track not unlike a BMX track, four athletes raced each other side-by-side on a four-lane, 110m straight-line course. The top two progressed to the next round, and the bottom two were sent packing.
“The medal I got in Whistler was super special because there was a year’s journey to get there – and I didn’t expect to get there – but everything kind of clicked on the day. I’d qualified first, got the fastest lap of the day… and got a medal! But I knew why I had moved to mountain biking, and the reason I was there was for speed and style. That’s what interests me. That’s what I wanted to learn. That’s what I wanted to do. So that medal wasn’t completely fulfilling. It was awesome but, internally, I just wanted to do well at speed and style.”
However, unfortunately Whistler’s Speed and Style didn’t go to plan, and Jayden was out early due to a mistake in his run.
Come 2023, not long after he was the first person to throw a massive double backflip on Queenstown’s recently revamped and upsized ‘Dream Track’ jumps, Jayden put his experience and passion for all things cycling into a new job. He joined Velobike (track cycling parts specialists) as the operations and sales lead at their Cambridge base, becoming a ‘Jack of all trades’ for the small business.
His 2024 season results confirmed that Speed and Style were indeed his strengths. Focused preparation and practice meant his bag of tricks was all but overflowing and, when combined with the speed and race craft from his years as a BMXer, he became a threat at any Speed and Style competition he put his mind to.
“I spent the last year (2024) putting my absolute heart and soul into it (Speed and Style). I was struggling in it, but I knew that’s what I wanted to do. I spent all year just focusing on front flips and double flips because I knew those were the two tricks I wanted to do. Staying in Cambridge, not getting distracted and just focusing on trying to be fast and smooth. And I went from qualifying 25th, 23rd, around the mid-20s, to qualifying fourth, third and second at last year’s rounds, which was cool for me. It goes back to what the sport’s about; following the journey and getting there.”
His season began with ninth place in Rotorua, and then he backed up by fifth placings in Cairns and Innsbruck. Unfortunately, his world tour was cut short due to a wrist injury, meaning he would miss the pinnacle event and one he’d done well at before: Crankworx Whistler. “I was in Europe at the time, so I stayed and watched the Olympics. I didn’t feel comfortable going all the way to Canada when I had a half-ass wrist. I didn’t feel like I would be riding my best.”
Once his wrist was ready, October 2024 saw yet another diversion for Jayden as he conquered the Whaka 100 XC Marathon. “The Whaka was awesome. I went and watched a mate do it last year, and I guess I just got bored and thought, you know what – 100k on a mountain bike; it’s a big effort, but it’d be really cool. A fun thing to say you’ve done. I think it’s a little bit like the Coast-To-Coast – it’s a very Kiwi thing. It would be so awesome to say that you’ve done the Coast-To-Coast, but I feel as far as a mountain biking event in New Zealand, the Whaka’s the equivalent. Yeah, I don’t say prestigious, but quite a well-known cool thing to do. It was awesome to get out there and do it.” Followers of the Marin Bikes Instagram account tracked Jayden’s Whaka experience as he live updated throughout his nine-plus hours out on the course.
Late in 2024, Crankworx World Tour promoters emailed athletes announcing they would discontinue Speed and Style competitions and replace them with a ‘mystery event’ at the 2025 Cairns Crankworx event. Jayden felt lost and unsure about what his season might look like now that his favourite event had been shelved, and he had minimal information on what would replace it.
With big plans for the upcoming year, Jayden filed his resignation with Velobike, packed his life into his car and drove to Queenstown to immerse himself in the thick of the MTB scene and take on an operations role with Ilabb.
The 2025 Christchurch Crankworx Summer Series was announced for February, and Jayden marked it in his calendar. Initially focussed on the pump track, after chatting to a few mates, the Slope Style competition got on his radar and he managed to secure an entry to what would be his first FMBA gold-level slopestyle event.
“I got the confirmation of a wild card at the end of December. So I had about six weeks to get ready. I had put a lot of work into cash rolls, which I really wanted to land, and I had landed a handful on airbags, but didn’t have them dialled enough! The biggest hurdle was learning a new mindset for a slope comp and being able to chill out kinda and take it jump by jump. All I had known beforehand was races and to bash my way to the bottom as fast as I could.”
The lessons learned from his time in the track program were again put to use, this time in his competition plan for the Christchurch Summer Series. Each practice and competition day was pre-planned in his phone’s Notes app, leaving his mind free to focus purely on the task at hand rather than when and where he should eat lunch. Unfortunately, even with meticulous planning, hiccups can occur. Practise morning came, and a minor infection in his finger had spread up his arm. The onsite medic suggested he go to the hospital for IV antibiotics, meaning he would miss the first practice. Not the ideal lead into a Slope Style event, but if there’s one thing Jayden can deal with, it’s adversity.
“Going into my run, I still hadn’t done the double flip on the middle jump, or my cash roll down the bottom, but I kind of just backed myself. Obviously the double flip worked, but the cash roll didn’t. But, I’d rather go all in and give everything I have and crash, than do a safe run and be like, oh shit, I wish I’d done more, you know? So, really cool. All the dudes are super friendly. I’m kind of hooked now. Like, it got more exciting the more prepared I felt. On the morning of the comp, I was shitting myself, I was so scared.
“I’ve never considered myself a proper trick or slope-style guy. But hey, an opportunity came up to put my name forward for a wild card, and I happened to get it. So I’ll go give that everything I’ve got. Before I even got into the sport, Nikolai (Rogatkin) and Eric (Fedko) and Lucas and all those guys were my idols. So, to be riding practice and competing against them is pretty cool for me, and doing it in New Zealand was pretty special; anytime we get to compete in New Zealand is sick.”
For 2025, Jayden continues to rack up air miles, again taking on the Crankworx World Tour, this time as part of Martha Gills’ ‘Lucid MTB’ team, created to support selected riders in chasing their MTB dreams. Jayden continues with previous sponsors Marin, Leatt and Ilabb, with other team sponsors adding to the roster, including Hope, Deity, Marzzocchi, Microshift, Ride Concepts and WTB.
The tour kicks off in March with Crankworx Rotorua, where he’ll be hitting the Pump Track, Whip Off, and rolling the dice at the Best Trick competition. Once Rotorua is in the bag, he’ll be back on the road again, returning to the USA, just as he did as a youngster chasing the BMX dream. Only this time, however, he’ll have a mountain bike in tow for the Sea Otter Festival, competing across Dual Slalom, Enduro and Downhill instead of listening to; “riders ready, watch the gate” on the BMX start hill.
Bosch CX-R: The Most Powerful eMTB Motor Yet
Words: Liam Friary
Images: Supplied
When Bosch says they’ve built their most powerful eMTB motor ever, you sit up and take notice. The new Performance Line CX-R isn’t just another incremental upgrade – it’s a proper beast that’s been designed with one thing in mind: unleashing pure trail energy.
As someone who’s spent plenty of time on eMTBs, I’m always curious when a major player like Bosch drops something completely new into the mix. And the CX-R definitely feels like a departure from their usual approach. While previous Bosch motors have been known for their reliability and smooth power delivery, this one’s clearly been built for riders who want to push harder and go faster.
The numbers alone tell quite a story. We’re talking 100Nm of torque, 750W of power, and support of up to 400% of your pedal input. That’s seriously impressive stuff, and puts it right up there with some of the most powerful motors on the market. But what really caught my attention was how Bosch has approached the whole package – it’s not just about raw power.
Two New Modes That Actually Make Sense
The standout feature for me is the exclusive Race mode. This is clearly aimed at riders who want immediate, uncompromising power delivery. When you’re picking your way through technical terrain or need that instant boost out of a tight corner, the Race mode doesn’t mess around. It gives you full assistance right up to maximum speed, with what Bosch calls “Extended Boost” for those moments when you’re wrestling with big rocks or gnarly root sections.
What’s clever is that they’ve also introduced an eMTB+ mode that sits between their existing eMTB setting and the new Race mode. This feels like Bosch acknowledging that not everyone wants to be pinned back in their seat every time they touch the pedals. The eMTB+ mode includes something called Dynamic Control – essentially a kind of traction control system that keeps things manageable even when the terrain gets loose or steep.
Both modes can be fine-tuned through Bosch’s eBike Flow app, which is something I really appreciate. Being able to customize how your motor responds to different situations makes a huge difference when you’re trying to dial in the perfect setup for your riding style.
Built Like a Proper Race Machine
The materials spec on the CX-R reads like a who’s who of high-end engineering. We’re talking aerospace-grade stuff here – magnesium housing, titanium crank spindle, and ceramic ball bearings. All of this adds up to a motor that weighs just 6 pounds, which is pretty impressive when you consider the power it’s putting out.
What I find interesting is that Bosch has clearly spent time with top-level athletes during development. You can see this in the attention to detail – things like the decoupled drivetrain that reduces mechanical noise when you’re descending, and the advanced sensor technology that measures your pedal input up to a thousand times per second.
The Tech That Makes It Work
Speaking of sensors, this is where things get really interesting from a technical perspective. The CX-R uses inertial measurement units (IMUs) that track acceleration and rotation in six dimensions, plus inclination and tilt angles. Essentially, the motor knows exactly what the bike is doing at any given moment and can adjust power delivery accordingly.
This kind of sophisticated sensor tech means the motor can deliver power precisely when and where you need it – whether that’s a punchy acceleration out of a switchback, a controlled start on slippery surfaces, or sustained power on steep technical climbs.
What This Means for eMTB Riding
The CX-R feels like Bosch’s answer to the ongoing debate about full-power versus lightweight eMTBs. Rather than compromising on either front, they’ve tried to build something that gives you serious power while still maintaining the kind of responsive, lively feel that makes eMTBs fun to ride.
The fact that it’s launching with an exclusive Race mode suggests they’re specifically targeting riders who want to push boundaries – whether that’s in actual competition or just personal progression on challenging trails. At the same time, the eMTB+ mode with its Dynamic Control system shows they haven’t forgotten about riders who want that power delivered in a more manageable way.
The Bottom Line
While we’ll have to wait until fall 2025 to see the first bikes with the CX-R in shops, this feels like a significant step forward for Bosch. They’ve clearly been listening to feedback from serious eMTB riders who wanted more power and more control over how that power is delivered.
Whether the CX-R lives up to its impressive spec sheet will ultimately come down to how it feels on the trail. But based on what Bosch has achieved with their previous motors, and the clear focus on performance and customization with this one, it could well be the motor that sets the new benchmark for what a serious eMTB should be capable of.
For riders who’ve been waiting for that perfect combination of power, control, and refinement, the CX-R might just be worth the wait.