Words Liam Friary
Images Sven Martin & Callum Wood
One of the greatest advantages to being a mountain bike magazine owner and editor is, essentially, getting to do it all. It’s not a ‘real job’, and you get to ride some of the best products, bikes and locations in the world. However, there’s a lot more actual work that goes on behind the scenes. Of course, this isn’t your typical 9-to-5, and I wouldn’t want it to be.
When the call confirmed the rumours that the SRAM/RockShox media camp would be taking place in Queenstown early this year, I cleared my diary, did the chores, asked my wife nicely, and packed my bags. It’s not often we get a global bike media camp on our side of the world, and for the most part there’s been a lot less of them since the pandemic – often, they’re based in the northern hemisphere and, with budgets tightened in recent times, there’s frankly less dosh to throw about. I sound like a privileged dick at this point, but I don’t take this position lightly. I’m eternally grateful for all the ride experiences that have come via writing for this publication.
Often in the bike trade there’s not a lot of information passed around when these camps are announced – and that’s for a good reason, as most of these products aren’t going to be out in the wild for months. So, there’s a bit of blind patience when heading in. You know most things will be sorted, but above all else you’ll ride somewhere and probably have a bed, so you just have to have faith. After I departed from Auckland’s sprawl, coffee was served and the short flight from Auckland was a luxury compared to the long-haul flights for most of the other mountain bike editors and SRAM staff, who’d flown in from North America and Europe. I watched the landscape change as we headed south, and before I knew it, tussock mountains were being carefully navigated for the landing. Sheesh, the tourism machine doesn’t stop in Queenstown! I hustled through the crowd of people and waited for my oversized baggage to come out. Outside the airport, I met an editor from German Mountain Bike magazine, Chris Pauls, and we quickly got yarning about bikes, the industry, magazines, and all that. We loaded our gear into the shuttle van, ducked and weaved our way around traffic, and got dropped at a rather fancy house in Queenstown. I immediately noticed the garages were full of bikes, forks, shocks and parts, with a workshop tent out front. The crew greeted us, showed us our rooms, then we started building our bikes.
Nine new products. That’s why they needed a full media camp, and that number set the tone for what was ahead. Split across trail and DH, our focus was the trail riding lineup: new RockShox Zeb fork and Vivid shock, SRAM Maven brakes, Ochain, plus updates to the Rockshox Lyrik fork and Super Deluxe shock. We were asked to bring our own trail bikes, running whatever suspension we’d been on, which made for an honest baseline. The first day at Coronet Peak was a warm-up. At the base station, five degrees flashed in red above the chairlift. I jumped out of the van and zipped my jacket up to my chin. The mountains and most of the trails were completely buried in mist as we loaded onto the lift. Cutting laps on our current set-ups, no upgrades, just shaking off the jet lag for the European crew and getting a feel for the terrain. Thankfully the valley floor was warmer, and we could ditch the jackets for tee-shirts as the day went on. The trails did their job. Dirt Serpent, Rude Rock, Morning Glory and Hot Rod top to bottom had everyone frothing, most of them riding New Zealand dirt for the first time. There’s something about watching someone discover a trail they’ve never ridden before. The whoops coming out of the corners said everything. By the arvo, the sun was out in full force, and the endless mountain views made it hard to keep our attention on the trail. The party trains were long, the vibes were high, and back at the residence that evening we ate well, the Remarkables going pink then dark across the valley as we swapped stories about the day. A bloody good start.
The next day, the real work began. Into Queenstown Mountain Bike Park, Skyline Gondola spinning us up lap after lap on the same trails. The plan was straightforward: ride your own bike as is, swap the fork for the new RockShox Zeb, run a-b-a comparisons, then do the same for the rear shock. Clean, controlled, honest. And you need that familiarity, because the second you’re chasing feel on unfamiliar trails, the data falls apart. The old Lyrik was comfortable territory. The new Zeb wasn’t long on there before I was pushing harder than I probably should have. That’s exactly how you find out what a fork is made of, and how I ended up on the deck. A sit-out, head check, and a hand wrap from Flynn George, my SRAM first aid homie, and I was back into it after some food and a bit of downtime. Flynn is also the main person behind the O-Ring; his title is SRAM Product Manager, MTB Drivetrain. SRAM employees are like Swiss army knives, multiple hats always on the go. By the afternoon we were lapping in the dappled light, the Zeb clearly doing its thing, so we flipped the rear shock out for the Vivid Air and did a final lap with the full upgraded setup. The traction was there, the plushness was there, and the fork had that planted stiffness that lets you plough through technical terrain without second-guessing it. Bikes washed, beers served, I sat with it for a moment. The privilege of a day like that doesn’t escape you.
Back to the park the next morning, and something had shifted. The Skyline lifties were quizzing us each lap. They’d clocked the new gear and wanted to know all about it. But what I noticed more was the feeling on trail. The trails were familiar now in the best possible way, that comfortable aggression where you stop thinking and just ride. The small group of editors matched with SRAM staff spread out across the network, picking lines that pushed us, really asking questions of the suspension. The answers kept coming back good. It helped that I spent time riding and hanging with the RockShox Design Engineer, Denys Mayles, who had been making the new rear shocks for the last four years. His knowledge was extensive and is often applied to World Cup Downhill racers and teams, so having him talk about and dial in the tune was next level. Over dinner, I helped him sort out a legit South Island mountain bike road trip itinerary as his wife was flying out in a few days’ time. I think being able to meet the people behind the scenes, riding and hanging with them, is often overlooked in this digital age. In the end we go back to our own little worlds as mates, connected through bikes.
The day after, we crossed to Coronet Peak. Bags dumped at the base, straight into laps. Coronet has its own character. That was also true of Alex Rafferty, SRAM MTB Communications Manager, whose energy didn’t relent once. He was the general in charge of the whole affair and led us all without flustering. Boy, could he shred; without ego, which was true for staff and media on this camp, which was nice. A former cyclist competing in road and mountain biking, Alex is ingrained in the sport and developed an MTB leadership awards programme, a skills coaching company, and enduro events before joining SRAM. Coronet has exposure and flow in the same breath, ridge lines that drop away sharply enough to keep your attention, the kind of riding that reminds you why this corner of the South Island is something else. By afternoon, the crew had loosened into something more than a media group. People were calling lines for each other, waiting at trail junctions, riding like they’d known each other longer than a few days. The legs were heavy by the time we rolled back into town. Nobody mentioned an early night. In fact, Alex led us astray – well past midnight.
The next day dawned; I drew the curtains and felt a touch dusty but was thankful for the late night burger I’d scoffed before bed. The final day was something else entirely. We shuttled to the top of Coronet, with the Remarkables standing proudly in the early sun across the valley. From the chairlift at the top of Coronet, we dropped into Dirt Serpent, then Rude Rock, and finally into Pack, Track and Sack, which threaded our way down into the raw, exposed terrain of Skippers Canyon. The group was having fun as we pulled up at each junction to ensure riders didn’t get lost. In the valley, the midday heat was out in full force as we waited in the tussock field for a helicopter that would take us up to Bowen Peak. Already depleted from the long descent and the week’s riding, we yarned away while we waited for our lift to arrive. Wow, what a spectacular flight up to Bowen Peak! As we twisted in, out and above the mountains, the view was expansive; and as we got dropped on the peak, Lake Wakatipu was glistening in all its glory, shrouded by tall mountains. There, the real adventure began, lacing together epic singletrack descent into Ben Lomond’s Missing Link in one big alpine chunk, which was loose, committing, and relentlessly steep in sections. It demanded everything the suspension and brakes had given us all week and then some. Stitching all these trails together was all-time and with each one you grew in confidence. My only gripe was a sore hand from my earlier crash but that was all my own fault. We traversed, then started pedalling across to the Fernhill Loop, buried in the lush eech forest, before dropping into BluGazi as the final descent into Queenstown. It was a 2,400-metre descent that none of us will forget quickly. We rolled into Atlas still dusty, still buzzing, and thoroughly earned every beer that followed. Some weeks of work are harder to leave behind than others.
Of course, the camp was for all the new products, and that’s why we were there. But, for me, whilst the riding was great and perhaps one of my best weeks, it was more about the people I met on the camp. All of us editors, journalists, YouTubers and others work from our little corners, basements, offices, and try to ride as much as possible, but we don’t tend to interact with one another much. We all have a huge passion for bikes and media, so it’s nice to spend time and learn from one another, as most of the ups and downs we face are somewhat similar. The SRAM/ RockShox staff and product managers were all a pleasure to hang with, and their utmost passion for riding bikes shone through in every aspect. It wasn’t just the marketing managers spouting off about the new product; it was the people that had spent years in research and development bringing these products to market. They knew them inside out and had lived and breathed the product cycle for eons – and, of course, they’re already onto the next product. Watch this space!
