Words Lester Perry
Images Supplied
Taranaki has produced some exceptional mountain biking talent over the last 30 years. From Glenn Sisarich’s dreadlocked persona blowing up corners at downhill races through the 90’s, to Cameron Cole’s 2006 Junior World Championship downhill win in Rotorua; and Wyn and Ed Masters, taking their backyard dirt jumping skills to winning an Enduro World Series race each. Outside of these icons, countless other riders from the area have carved their own way in the race-based side of the sport. On the non-competitive side, Taranaki has produced, or been the base for, numerous dirt jump and freeriding talent, existing in their own bubble out on the West Coast. They’ve quietly gone about their business, digging and riding dirt jumps and freeride trails around the region, largely off the radar of much of the country. Daniel Cleland is one such rider and, although he’s now a key figure in the area’s dirt scene, it was outside the region where he really found his feet and fell in love with the culture behind it.
The 25-year-old has an air of humility about him, but his riding and graft speak for themselves. Dan is quick to point out others in the crew whose efforts have brought the trails or his videos together, not in a self- deprecating way, but he’s not one to put himself first; he always acknowledges those who’ve come before or are still in the game.
“I grew up riding Roto’s; a local jump park here (headed by Scott Bedford aka Beddy B), and then Mangers (Lake Mangamahoe) as well. There’s a track called Hendrix out there, and one of the local dudes, Che, did a huge amount of work on the build of that. As I grew up, I just started riding with him and digging with him a bit more. Hendrix is probably three generations deep now. It’s been through logging, been rebuilt, logged and then rebuilt again. This time around, we’re the ones building it, which is pretty rad.”
Education comes in many forms, and while we’re continually learning from the moment we’re born, the lessons learned in our late teens and early twenties help shape our identity as we find our way in the world. For Dan, education has been a theme for the last few years. His early, formative schooling was in Taranaki but, after deciding to train as a teacher, education took him south to Christchurch. Not only did Dan formally train as a secondary school teacher, he also found community amongst the local dirt jump and freeride scene.
Dan began his time in Christchurch in 2018, where he studied for four years, finishing his final year online through Victoria University of Wellington during the COVID era. He now works as a secondary school teacher at Spotswood College. Most of his time is spent with Outdoor Education and Geography classes, both subjects with parallels to his dirt craft.
Although it was University that had landed him in Grid City, it was a community at the end of Bowenvale Road, right at the foot of Vic Park, where his focus lay between classes. “The Vale” was an integral part of the dirt jump scene in Christchurch for 18 years. The tales from the place are many and really warrant their own feature. Dan not only refined his craft of building trails but thrived on immersing himself in the culture, traditions, and unwritten rules of The Vale, which he would eventually take back home to Taranaki.
“Dan… D-Rock… where do I start… I met Dan when he moved to Christchurch for Uni. Like most years, there was a fresh influx of people moving to the garden city to study and, of course, there are a ton of mountain bikers mixed into that group. He showed up, was keen and motivated to ride jumps, meet new people, and most importantly, he was keen to get on the tools and move some dirt.
D Rock blended in with the Vale crew and became one of the boys super-fast; his quick wit and cheeky banter never went amiss. Dan seemed to be another dude who wanted to learn a few tricks and throw down. That’s not hard to be honest, when you have the likes of Billy Meaclem and Matt Begg to ride with and be influenced by.
He very quickly started to rip tricks on the ol’ trusty Vale step-up; 360s, Backflips, ‘No foot cans’ to name a few tricks this lad does with ease but, personally, I think Dan has one of the best ‘Suicide no handers’ on the planet. Not just NZ, but on the planet, the way he just dumps the front down, leans right off the back and just lets the hands sail behind him is timeless style. With the loss of The Vale and the boys moving on with life, it’s sad I don’t get to see him as much as I did, but I always look forward to hangs and seeing him swing off a bike. Big Up D-Rock, you’re the man.” Andrew Costain, OG Vale builder and rider.
Dan credits the riders behind the infamous Post Office jump spot in Aptos, California, as a key inspiration behind his riding in his early days. Although this focal point drew riders from around the world, it was a tight crew of locals who built and maintained it under a “no dig, no ride” ethos. Riders such as Cam and Tyler McCaul, Greg Watts, Ryan “R-Dog” Howard, Jamie Goldman and friends, were the original locals who kicked it off. Over time, the spot drew riders from around the globe seeking a dry winter escape from their northern hemisphere winters, including Brandon Semenuk, Martin Söderström, Andreu Lacondeguy, and Brett Rheeder, among many others. Although it was on the opposite side of the planet to Post Office, and far removed from most of the world’s riding population, The Vale has many parallels with it: the culture; the no-dig, no-ride philosophy; and being a beacon that attracted global talent to the area when they were down under.
Unfortunately, there was one parallel that neither The Vale nor the Post Office crews wished could be made between the two spots; each was eventually torn down to make way for development. The Post Office trails got bowled in 2015, some 15 years after their inception, while The Vale survived from 2004 to 2022. Although these focal points are physically gone, they both live on in spirit and memories. The communities established in each location continue to evolve in their own unique ways and, even though the original crews have now dispersed and scattered around the globe, the bonds formed at each spot will last a lifetime. The population of Christchurch was a double-edged sword for Dan; he was stoked to have a solid crew to dig and ride with, but there were downsides, and these made him miss the smaller, more laidback hills of home. Many of the crisp lines and manicured berms he’d helped build in Christchurch were rapidly reduced to just lines of powder down the hillsides, blowing out due to heavy traffic, thanks to easy access and the sheer volume of riders in town.
“I can’t quite remember how we first met, but I feel like he just arrived at The Vale one day. He hit it off with everyone pretty quickly. His sarcasm fit right in with our crew’s bad humour, and when we saw he was actually just as stoked to help dig and work on the jumps as much as riding them, we all knew he was a great addition to the trails. Dudes like D-rock are few and far between in the MTB space around here. Most MTB riders just want to ride as much as they can, not caring about the quality of trails they’re riding, whereas Dan’s one of those dudes you’ll only find riding when the conditions are on, and the conditions are usually only on because he’s been the one out digging to get ‘em good. I think Beddy B and Che have played a huge part in shaping Dan into the legend he is, on and off the bike, so big up to those two Taranaki Lords! Definitely miss having him around CHCH, but the stuff he’s got going on up in the Naki looks top notch, can’t wait to come roach it mate!” Billy Meaclem, OG Vale builder and rider.
Sure, riding and digging make up most of the creative equation for Dan, but filming and shooting photos are also part of his creative expression. Teaming up with Josh Birkenhake, the pair has produced a few videos, with the most recent, Homebrew, taking Dan’s effortless style and blending it with Josh’s own unique and gritty, almost skate-inspired, filming style.
The success of these video parts for the duo isn’t about garnering the most likes or views; the success lies purely in the process. Tuning a trail, Dan interpreting its features on the bike, and Josh filming it; if other people like the result, then that’s a bonus.
“You can build stuff here and people respect it a bit more, which is kind of rad…. I kind of realised how lucky we were here when I’d just come back during my summer breaks.”
With his time in Christchurch complete, Dan headed back to Taranaki, linking up with his mates Jonty Vink and Che Evans. The small but mighty crew balanced digging and riding. Although focused on dialling in existing trails, perfecting what’s already there, after a period they needed something different, something they’d designed and built themselves and could truly call their own. The Peacock Ridge trail, Mangamahoe, fulfilled that need. Tightly linked turns separated by gaps and rollers – there’s barely a flat or straight section on the trail.
“We don’t want to dig more than we can maintain or keep running sick. So rather than just building heaps of new stuff, we’ll rebuild or tweak features. We’ll constantly be digging, but it’s kind of got to the point now where it’s just refinement rather than full-on going out and building freshies. Sometimes it’s a 100-metre section of trail that links back into the same track. We’ll kind of condense our focus into one area so we don’t have to go to more than one spot to ride, it’s all close together.”
Dan is quick to add his thoughts on the state of trail building in general. While he’s glad there are companies around that can quickly push a trail through with a digger, the speed and ease of these builds, in his eyes, mean that lots of MTB clubs end up with more trail than they can maintain, so overall quality suffers. Particularly, digger-built flow style trails are more of a liability than an asset for clubs relying on volunteers for trail maintenance. It’s evident that Dan’s focus is on ‘quality over quantity’, as he explains below:
“You see a lot of commercial builds happening these days, and it’s sick and it’s super rad for the community. But then it’s such a massive surface area to maintain and, in three months, it’s just flogged and they don’t have any maintenance plans or anything. In Queenstown, they’ve obviously got the money for it, and they (the commercial builders) can come through and redo it every year. But I know you see these smaller communities and clubs getting massive funding for trails, and then come six months’ time, all that funding spent, they’ve got like three rad new trails – and, especially bike park tracks and digger-built stuff, they just get flogged and need lots of work.
It’s almost like the clubs see them as an infinite asset. But it’s like, dude, that asset depreciates fast, you know, you’ve gotta keep investing or have a skilled community that can upkeep those trails.
Whangamata MTB Club do a good job. They’ve got lots of digger-built trails, but have committed to having a full-time builder, and they keep it running super sick. Rather than building something new all the time, it’s sick to see like a club be like, oh no, we’ll chuck that money into actually keeping what we’ve got, good.”
The next chapter is unfolding for Dan; he’s putting down roots, hoping to purchase a plot of land for a tiny home with big jumps in the front yard. Seeing the talent emerging from the scene in New Plymouth, he’s encouraging the region’s younger riders to “respect the sesh”, ensuring they take time to rebuild, repair, and dial in the jump lines, rather than just riding and leaving someone else to look after them.
