Racing on Springs

The Tallboy, then.

Like riding a sofa of fun.

Bases covered – 29er, 100mm of suspension either end, full xt drivetrain, fox RP23 shock with ProPedal platform damper on the back, RockShox Reba RL on the front, and, just to make sure that there was a low point, Avid Elixir brakes, which did the job, but, like most Avid brakes, weren’t set up fantastically well and didn’t have wonderful “lever feel.” The rest of the bike, though, put a smile on my face for the whole time I rode it.

I was allowed to take the black beauty out for an orientation spin around the course. My first blast around the skills loop demonstrated the sheer volume of grip now available at the back through the combination of larger wheel and supple suspension. Power could go down whenever the pedals were in a position to spin, and with the smoothness of the ride, my feet were almost always in place.

Though not exactly a racer’s bike, it didn’t feel lardy going uphill; the platform damping losing little energy when climbing seated, and the steepish head angle preventing the front wheel wandering too far. This is one of the obvious compromises SC decided to make in the Tallboy’s geometry sheet – a steep headtube angle to sharpen the steering, lowering the otherwise truck-like wheelbase and countering the gyroscopic tendency for the bike to plough through the corners. I feel that they might have taken things just a tiny bit too far, though, as once or twice the bike did feel a little divey through corners, but it’s a reasonable compromise to make.

The 700mm bar felt perfectly adequate leverage-wise for the short-ish cockpit, and I never felt cramped through my chest or wrists. Shifting weight back and forth was easy and effective, though at times a little more length on the front might have been useful.

My only major complaint was that, with rather wide, flat pedals, I was frequently striking rocks – particularly awkward on the one set of steps that I never managed to clear. Whether the bottom bracket is particularly low, or whether it was just inattentiveness on my part with worse-case-scenario pedals, I don’t know, but it was one of the few aggravations in the ride.

For everything else, it was fantastic fun. The VPP geometry never felt like it was buckling under pressure, never put too much feedback through the chain, and, despite obviously hitting its limits at some points, never bottomed-out harshly. The chain did derail at a couple of points, but a clutch-type derailleur could probably solve this. If anything, perhaps the bike was too detached, floating above the trail, encouraging speed where it might have been prudent to slow – especially when chasing after riders, post-race, I failed to lift-off over a rise which concealed a slight right-hander and, with my wheels unweighted, I carried straight on into the bushes, the pins on the platform pedals carving some deep parallel grooves into my shin.

I didn’t care. I was having too much fun.

The race itself went well, as I sat comfortably on Phil’s wheel, with him in second place, waiting for the final dash up the fire road. Sadly, with only a couple of miles to go, I hung up my rear wheel and pinch-flatted. Hands shaking with adrenaline, it took a couple of spectators to help me strip the tyre off, and almost ten minutes went by until I was back on the trail.

It was still the most fun I’d had in a race this year.

No mere binary decision making – push on, stay back, move up, sprint, draft…. – the race was a constant battle against the trail, myself and my fellow competitors, egging them on or following their wheels. Passing was a nightmare on single track, but the delight at clawing riders back on the climbs, and feeling no-one on your rear wheel as you pressed for home was a delight closer to running than bike racing, but infinitely more exciting.

My confidence boosted, I now cannot wait for Relentless. If I ride half the bike that the Santa Cruz is, I will be happy.

So, a Tallboy unicycle, then.

Big fun on big tyres

It has been a while.

For unentertaining and irrelevant reasons, keeping this blog has been a low priority for a while; I found that I was unable to write anything nice, so I preferred not to write anything at all until good humour returned. As with so many of the gaps in this repository’s record, I shall now make a claim that I shall go back and bridge that void.

Given my record, I would not blame you if you didn’t hold your breath.

Onwards, to the recent past, however, and we strike my inspiration - a neat parry to the blow that was landed when the inspiration struck me.  Over the next couple of posts, I shall tell you, oh benign but hopefully slightly curious reader, of a recent discovery of mine. Or, rather, re-discovery.

Mountain biking is jolly good fun.

To take you through to this conclusion, we must start with a disappointment. A few weeks ago, with the Cycle the World 24 hour cycling event coming up, it was finally discovered that we would be unable to field our team to defend our title. As something of a rebound, however, Andy immediately suggested that we switch our focus to another full-day event – Relentless 24.

“But wait,” you say. “Isn’t that a mountain bike event? I thought you were a roadie.”

I commend you on your knowledge of matters both public and personal, but also know this – I used to rather enjoy mountain biking. Not that I was ever very good at it, but, growing up in the valleys, it seemed to be the thing to do. With trails so abundant, and roads so forbidding, a day spent on rocky common paths was a thrilling adventure. Indeed, you could even use a mountain bike to take you places – not even just to the trail head, but also to college, across the Beacons to visit my father, or nearly anywhere that was on a Beeching line – i.e. nearly everywhere, full stop.

Then came Cornwall. Hilly, fieldy Cornwall, with no common ground, no trail centres, nothing but the coast-to-coast mining trail. For want of rent, the last mountain bike was sold, and I was committed to tarmac, for better or worse.

So I seized with both hands the opportunity to ride again, and, indeed, race again on loose surfaces. I had everything I needed… apart from the bike. And the skill.

The latter, I could work on.

It was with something like panic that I scanned through my schedule until the date in late October of the race. So few opportunities to train, but so much more confidence required... There were two weekends open to me. The first, I decided to spend at Newton Stewart, riding hire bikes around Kirroughtree. The second, I hope to visit Fort William and recce the course. I pray that will be enough.

So onto Kirroughtree.

Set deep in the border hinterland of Dumfries and Galloway, Kirroughtree is one of the quieter of the Seven Stanes trail centres. The bike shop at the trail head – BreakPad – hires out a variety of mountain bikes, from fairly basic hardtails through to high-end full-sussers. I had elected to spend my time on a Kona Fire Mountain, an entry-level, 26” hard tail with a fairly simple fork, but reasonable hydraulic brakes. This was more about skill than comfort, so I figured it would suit my purposes.

As soon as I got there, though, my priorities began to shift. Explaining my predicament with respect to skill and the imminence of Relentless, the shop hand Phil stopped me and informed me, with a glimmer in his eye, that there was a race on tomorrow. Open entry. Perfect for training.

Excuses flashed through my head. I only had shoes for flat pedals. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want to hurt myself. But, realistically, this was perfect – almost suspiciously so. If I wanted to feel confident in time for Relentless, I would have to race.

I agreed that I would give it some thought as I spun around the park.

Once around the Blue loop, once around the Red, it took a while to get back into the swing of things. On the positive side, the weight distribution on the Fire Mountain is wonderful – a trait shared with all Konas that I have ridden. A short, front-wheel liberating rear end paired with a high-leverage cockpit enabled me to get my weight where it needed to be, so long as I was smart enough to anticipate it.

Sadly, the rest of the spec was merely serviceable. Coming from SLX on my touring bike, the small triggers and lack of two-way release on the Acera shifters left me out of gear far too often. The weak spring on the Alivio rear derailleur made every descent a gamble as to whether the chain would still be on the same ring when you wanted to drive out of the bottom, and the shifting – whilst reliable, was nevertheless hesitant and uncertain. The non-series hydraulic brakes did their job with minimal fuss, and were probably the best part of the package, but were balanced by the fork, which was undoubtedly the worst.

Kona Fire Mountain - an adequate, if unexceptional, entry-level mountain bike

An entry-level RockShox XC28 Even with the preload as low as it could go, sag was practically non-existent with my 70kg frame, and I was reliant on the (by my standards) balloony 2.2” tyres to absorb any smaller impacts. With no rebound damping, and far too heavy a spring, the fork saved me in a few pinches but did absolutely nothing more. If I was to race, it wouldn’t be on this.

Maintaining traction was proving to be an issue at times, more so between my feet and the pedals than the tyres and the ground. Despite dropping my heels, the hits came thick and fast, at times only dislodging my feet slightly to one side, but enough to slightly change my line and prevent me from pushing on until I had corrected myself.

I feel like I am being too negative on the bike, here, so please take my faint praise in context, and not as damning. When I say the drivetrain was reliable – it was. It shifted into the correct gear (eventually) every time. The brakes worked well and even had a degree of modulation, which cannot be taken for granted at this level.  The wheels were fine, the tyres gripped well, the fork was never dangerously uncontrolled and the frame geometry itself was tremendous, if a little harsh on the rear end and, if you are being ridiculously petty, a little soft at the bottom bracket. At the price paid, the Fire Mountain is a good bike. However, knowing what else is out there does colour one’s opinion somewhat, especially when the else is worth more than all of my bicycles combined.

Rolling back to the BreakPad, I knew I wanted to race. I knew I would rather not race on this. I wanted something a little more friendly grip-wise – probably a 29er. I wanted something that wouldn’t bounce me off flat pedals – probably a full-sus’. I wanted something with a positive drivetrain and good shocks.

What I wanted, as it turned out, was a Santa Cruz Tallboy.