Advocate Cycles

Colorado Trail - Lessons Learned

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Words and Photos by Eric Hockman

“Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home; that wildness is a necessity.”

-John Muir

There’s something very exciting about turning on your out of office reply that signifies the beginning of your time away from the daily grind. Whether you are jumping on an airplane to fly somewhere half-way around the globe or keeping it local with a stay-cation, it’s important to take time off and put yourself in new places to experience the out of ordinary.

It may sound crazy to most to call a physically and mentally demanding journey across multiple ranges of high altitude mountains a vacation, but to me, it’s just about the best way I can imagine to spend my time off. Luckily, my fiancé shares this feeling, and so we go as a pair. For us, the best growth we see as individuals and together is gained by taking ourselves away from our typical routine and overcoming the challenges we face on our adventures.

In the early spring months of 2016, we made the decision to thru-bike the Colorado Trail together over the course of two weeks. The challenge of it all was bigger than either of us had ever faced, but we knew it was exactly how we’d want to cash in on our time off from work. The end result was unwritten at this point and the logistical spider web grew each day as we started looking into how we wanted to take this massive challenge on.

The Route:

Consisting of a mixture of mostly single track, a fair amount of dirt forest service roads, and a small stint of paved mountain highways, the Colorado Trail stretches 539 miles between Durango and Denver, CO. While the trail remains predominantly above the 10,000 ft. elevation mark, there is over 70,000 ft of ascending and descending to really satiate your appetite for challenge and reward.

The CT is not a directional trail; however, most travellers typically start their journey in Waterton Canyon, near Denver and work their way into the most rugged terrain towards the latter half of the journey. The decision for us to ride the trail from Durango to Denver came out of wanting to ride back towards our home, rather than away from it. And so we did.

Let the journey begin.

A few things we learned on the Colorado Trail:

You don’t know until you go: Photos do not do this trail much justice when it comes down to it. Both majestically or for predicting the ability to ride certain sections that appear buttery smooth and flowy. What appears in images definitely inspires the soul, but there are many sections that must be pushed and cannot be easily flowed on two wheels. It’s best to accept that some things cannot be ridden and that time spent off the bike is great for taking in the views.

A loud freehub or bell can save you: Some may side with the opinion that a loud freehub is disruptive to other trail users or the serenity of being out in the backcountry; however, our loud free wheeling bikes managed to alert a momma moose with her two calves and alert a distant bull moose in the willows. A few follow up rings of the bell on your handlebars also alerts wildlife that you’re in their zone. Having a bell on your bike is also a great way to alert other trail users when you’re gassed and can’t muster any words to let them know you’re there.

Marmots are always looking for handouts: I sort of already knew marmots were pesky little creatures, but after meeting our friend Bruce about 3 days into the trip, we quickly realized you should never let your guard down when food is around. Bruce may have never successfully gotten close enough to our breakfast to snag a bite, but he sure did try… more than once.

Instant coffee and oatmeal can be really good tasting: Our first breakfast each day consisted of oatmeal and coffee. Adding dried fruit or broken up chocolate chip cookies to your oatmeal is a game changer and keeps things interesting. After you’ve devoured breakfast, mixing a packet of instant coffee in your camp mug both tastes great and leaves your cup or bowl nearly spotless.

You learn a lot about your travel partner: A trip of this length and challenge brings a lot of perspective to your life. There are times of struggle and times of triumph, moments of being slap-happy and hangry all at the same time. Needless to say, if you travel with a friend or significant other, you’re going to see the best and worst of them. Take it all for what it is, just don’t forget to give yourself the time you need to reflect as each day passes. Most importantly, enjoy the journey.

You meet a lot of really cool people from all over: Every interaction out on the trail is different. We spoke with hikers from all over the US and the globe, saw an older couple travelling with some llamas to carry their weight, and passed opposite directions with bikers racing the CTR from Denver to Durango. In the end, we had a lot of positive interactions and actually finished the trail having made a new friend on the side of the road near Leadville. No, it wasn’t one of the llamas.

Brews for Bikes - World Bicycle Relief

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Words and photos by Eric Hockman

As another 365 days pass and the age counter rolls another digit, it seems that each year tends to gain more momentum than the previous, causing time to blur by much like the trees that line my favorite sections of single track. It was right around four years ago that the dream to host an event for World Bicycle Relief (WBR) started swirling around in my mind. Back then it was just a distant but hopeful idea, so it’s hard to believe we just finished hosting year two of this very positive and extremely entertaining event. If you missed Brews for Bikes (B4B) last year at Mountain Toad Brewing in Golden, Colorado, you can read about the project on Pinkbike here. If you missed Brews for Bikes this year, well, where were you?

The overall vision and goal of WBR is to put bicycles in the hands of residents in African villages and cities to improve their quality of life in many ways. A bicycle to someone in Africa means that they can gain a better education, transport goods for small businesses and families more efficiently, and improve their chances of living a happier and healthier life.

For the second year running, my good friend Muhammad attended the event to enjoy all of the positive energy that comes along with it. Roughly seven years ago, he was granted amnesty to leave his refugee camp in Darfur, Sudan and bring his family to America to live a better and undoubtedly safer life. A few years later the two of us crossed paths as fellow mechanics at a shop in Seattle, WA, where I soon realized I needed to revisit my plan to send bikes to help people like him. As an immigrant and now resident of the United States he serves as a constant reminder that it is greatly important to continue helping others whenever possible. While speaking to those attending the event, he so eloquently noted that “Giving a person a bicycle in Africa is much like giving someone in America a very high-end car.” Much more can be accomplished when a person is mobilized via a form of reliable transportation.

This year we teamed up with many of the same contributors that were involved with the previous years project, but the most notable change in direction was the style of bike as well as the manufacturer. For B4B v2.0 the frame and fork were provided by Advocate Cycles; a company dedicated to sharing 100% of their profits with advocacy groups throughout the cycling community, so it seemed only fitting to join forces with them. The Lorax frame that we used to build this years custom Advocate/Buffalo collaboration arrived with a beautiful shade of pearlescent green paint and without it’s typical factory graphics. This blank canvas gave us the opportunity to lay down another set of customized graphics to mirror the Buffalo bikes that are sent to the field in Africa. Gaining help from friends throughout the cycling industry and local community is what makes this project thrive, and truly shows how big of a family the cycling community can be.

In it’s first iteration, Brews for Bikes was able to generate enough charitable contributions to send roughly 27 bikes to people in various parts of Africa. In it’s second year, the event did not produce quite as many bikes to send to Africa; however, the positive energy, education about WBR’s scope, and the nearly 20 bikes that will be sent to those in need was certainly a win to all that were involved.

Many thanks for everyone involved with the project:
- Advocate Cycles for the donation of a beautiful Lorax frame and fork,
- Victory Circle Graphix for the sharp custom graphics,
- Shimano for a sleek 105, 11 speed drivetrain and PRO components,
- Cane Creek for the bike jewelry-esque 110 headset,
- DT Swiss for the contribution of a smooth rolling Spline wheel set,
- Feedback Sports for the donation of a custom Pro-Elite repair stand and bicycle storage prizes,
- Pedal Fit PT for the donation of a custom bike fitting session,
- Jesse Crock for the donation of one of his incredible Colorado inspired paintings,
- Primal for sending out a box full of apparel,
- Hogshead Brewing and taproom for the venue space and donating proceeds from beer served at the event,
- SloHi Bike and Coffee for the excellent hospitality, coffee, and small parts for the bike build,
- World Bicycle Relief for the donation of stainless pint glasses and prizing,
- The Lookout Mountain Boys for putting on an always entertaining show,
- And most importantly for my good friend Muhammad from Sudan (by way of Seattle) for attending the event for the second year in a row.

As previously mentioned, this was the second year of Brews for Bikes, but keep your eyes open for another round of enjoying delicious brews, listening to good music, positive vibes, and most importantly, changing lives one bike at a time. Just make sure you don’t miss round three!

To learn more about World Bicycle Relief, please visit their website or to make a contribution to Brews for Bikes, please visit the event donation page.

America’s Tip Expedition - Tierra del Fuego

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Words and Photos by Federico Cabrera

My Adventure started at Tolhuin in Tierra del Fuego where I gathered food for 10 days and headed out onto Peninsula Mitre carrying only the essentials. It took me 17 days to reach Cabo San Diego, also known as Peninsula Mitre, and to return to Tolhuin’s Panaderia La Union.

In total, it was a 450-mile solo & self-supported adventure through deserted beaches, forests & peatlands and I was the first one to get this far by bicycle—probably because nobody else was stupid enough to try it sooner, as 90% of Tierra del Fuego’s peatlands are located at Peninsula Mitre. During the expedition, my biggest concern was being able to cross the 5 rivers separating Estancia Maria Luisa from Cabo San Diego.

On my 2nd day, a few hours after crossing Rio Irigoyen, I reached Puesto La Chaira, the last inhabited place at Peninsula Mitre, and met Hector Oyarzun who lives there the entire year and sometimes spends up to 9 months alone. I also met Agustin, who was visiting and learning the Gaucho’s life and I was able to get a lot of information about my challenge ahead. Aside from a lot of helpful information on the landscape, they gave me the tide schedule for the next 4 river crossings—a very useful piece of information for the adventure ahead.

Along Peninsula Mitre there are 4 old uninhabited refugios, which were restored by Adolfo Imbert, Centro Hipico Fin del Mundo, where travelers can get shelter from the tough environment. All of them have beds, a wood stove, & potable water. Unfortunately, many people traveling in the area, using ATV’s or other motorized forms of transportation, don’t appreciate how important these places are for trekkers like myself. One such Refugio, Puesto Rio Leticia, had been destroyed in the last couple of years—with its walls torn down to make fires and litter all around.

At each new river crossing along the way I would end up making 7 crosses across and back, as I wasn’t sure exactly where to make the cross and how deep the rivers were. The first time I would make it without any gear to check the river, the 2nd time I carried the electronics, the 3rd time I carried the camping gear & clothing, and finally the 4th time I carried the bicycle.

One such crossing, the Rio Policarpo, which is one of the largest crossings, is essential to cross at the lowest tide. I arrived there at perfect timing and by the time I was crossing my bike, the water was up to my chest and the river was at least 100 meters wide.

From the last Refugio, Bahia Thetis, I had one more river crossing and only 9 miles to Cabo San Diego’s lighthouse, the farthest point and turn around point of this trip. In the Bahia Thetis’ logbook I found information stating 6-7 hours were needed for a round walking trip to the lighthouse. Just in case I planned for a 10 hours round trip and I carried some gear—bivy sack, sleeping bag, & some dry food.

By the time I finally reached America’s extremity in the 9th day of my trip, I knew I probably wasn’t going to make it back to Bahia Thetis in time to cross the river at low tide, so instead of wasting any time, I just took a few minutes to skinny dip at Estrecho de la Maire & to make a couple images at the Lighthouse before heading back on the 9-mile journey.

The last couple of hours I found my way through the peatlands with just a small headlamp as it was a very dark and cloudy night. By the time I made it to the river crossing I was 2 hours late for the low tide so I had to spend that night with just my bivy sack & summer sleeping bag. Fortunately, it was the first night without rain the entire trip.

A few days later I found out the person who took 6-7 hours in his round trip from Bahia Thetis to Cabo San Diego had crossed the river by boat in 5 minutes, instead of walking 4 miles to cross the river—2 miles each way like I had—through ankle deep mud, taking an extra 4-6 hours. From Bahia Thetis it took me 5 days to get back to Tolhuin with good weather.

For anyone that decides to head down and try this route, remember to carry as little weight as possible as there is plenty of pushing/walking the bike involved. It is also essential to get an updated tide chart/schedule and to carry food for at least 2 weeks—you might find some food at some shelters, but you can’t count on it.

You should also expect to find at least a couple rainy days and strong winds—in your return trip you will probably have head winds all the way to Ruta 3. Wider tires and rims will be highly appreciated to ride on the beach with low tides and to get through the endless peatlands that will be encountered.

In order to preserve this wild & remote place we need to request that the local authorities protect and regulate this area. Please make a difference and sign this petition: https://www.change.org/p/preservar-peninsula-mitre?recruiter=50229550&utm_source=share_petition&utm_medium=copylink

Ride Report - Tour of Aotearoa New Zealand

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Words and photos by Ihi Heke

New Zealanders love to bike. Even New Zealand’s prime minister, Hon. John Key, funded a cycleway that links one end of New Zealand with the other. Enter, first time Māori (Indigenous New Zealander) adventure mountain biker lining up for a “short” ride with the “tiniest of little” issues being that my first ever adventure ride happens to be the inaugural Tour of Aotearoa. Couple this with having no bike two days prior to the event, no training in the last six months and no idea what was required to set up a bike for a ride of this distance.

Running the entire length of New Zealand from north to south, the Tour Aotearoa is a 3000km bikepacking tour from the north tip of Cape Reinga all the way down south the town of Bluff. The tour is a collection of several of the greatest rides in the country all connected by the best available backcountry roads.

Luckily, the owners of Advocate Cycles are good mates of mine. On a recent trip to New Zealand, I convinced them that Māori were riding not for health, physical activity or even mountain biking but to seek the knowledge that only a mountain could pass on from several centuries of watching humans move across their pathways. In helping me out, they inadvertently helped Māori improve their connection to their lands through mountain biking.

Mountain biking is not only becoming popular with Māori communities seeking knowledge but it’s also becoming the new “rugby/netball” for Māori with too many injuries to play contact sports any longer. On top of this burgeoning interest in mountain biking, I’m convinced that adventure cycling as a form of mountain biking is the modality that will capture the imaginations of Māori due to the cultural importance of mountains within the Māori world view.

How this recent move to rediscover indigenous physical activity has come about has been a fascinating process in its own right. It was recently discovered that pre-European Māori had a highly comprehensive array of physical training techniques to improve power, agility, quickness, speed, coordination, flexibility, muscular endurance and aerobic conditioning. These strength and conditioning techniques were garnered from pre-European Māori’s most abundant resource, the environment that they lived in and shared with other living beings. That is, Māori appear to have looked to their ancestral ties with their atua (gods), kaitiaki (guiding animals) and tipua (spiritual animals e.g., taniwha) to make sense of their world and strengthen their control over their collective destiny by training as a reflection of what they saw in their local environment.

Initially, the whole idea of the Aotearoa sounded like a massive pain in the ass both literally and figuratively because I came from an era of mountain biking that used one bike for everything and each ride had to be completed within two to three hours. I was part of the era that thought that disc brakes were too heavy, carrying gear was unnecessary, and that suspension was for motorbikes and had no place on a bike—not anymore.

Two days out from the start of the Tour of Aotearoa, a smart looking, fresh, white, Hayduke turned up at my house. With the anthem of “steel is real” in the back of my mind I set about getting the bike up and running.

Twenty-four hours later, on a low tide, we set out on the start of the ride. The first section of the tour was 110km—86km of that on the aptly named, 90-mile beach. That’s right, almost 90km on sand with an incoming tide and 35 knot head wind for good measure. The first day was the filter from hell. A number of people on the start line asked how my training had been, to which I stated, “superb”—not a single issue of overtraining since I’d done none. Several comments were also passed that at a svelte 110kg I was probably “too heavy” to ride this type of event, especially with a 1×11 drivetrain, and I shouldn’t be surprised if I wasn’t successful in completing the tour. I think on both counts, I was finished with the event four days earlier than those who thought I would never get there.

I found the Hayduke to be a dream to ride on multiple, long, 12-hour days. I’ve been around mountain bikes for a long time (since the mid eighties) during which time I had been mostly interested in hill climbing only for the thrill of downhilling. Jump forward some twenty years and mountain biking has a new cousin—adventure biking. Interestingly, adventure biking allowed me to slow down and look around at all of the different locations more intimately because I didn’t feel obliged to rush.

Even more interesting was the number of people who knew about the Hayduke, especially considering it’s a brand new company. Not surprisingly, a large number of those people wanted to be part of the “next level crew” riding a Hayduke. I literally had adventure bike diehards leering over the Hayduke wanting to know every detail about how it rode.

The bike was a pleasure to ride, compliant to a fault, with effortless handling on the trail despite the gear loaded on the bike. In fact, I felt a little bit like the poor hillbilly with my borrowed panniers. Seeing all of the new techniques being used to carry gear including handle bar bags, seat bags and frame bags was out of this world and I intend to have a go at the correct adventure setup next time around.

I had expected to find the Hayduke tiring after a couple of consecutive days riding, considering I’d only ridden to the local store and back as training. However, I can say that I looked forward to getting back on it to ride each day. I think what I had underestimated was the relaxed angles of the Hayduke coupled with the steel ride making for a totally forgiving bike that could literally be ridden many long days in a row with very little rider fatigue.

In the end, the ride only took 22 days, when I had been told to expect 30, if I make it at all. I think the difference for me was the bike. It became like an old friend I’d catch up with for coffee before beginning each day. It was the absence of issues that made for such a wonderful ride. With the blessing of multiple days on the same bike, I was able to see the very direct effect that the Hayduke was allowing—a smooth ride and a great tour of my home country.

To say that I enjoyed being self sufficient and able to carry all my own food and sleeping equipment doesn’t do it justice—I loved it. Māori have had a long history of guiding non-Māori across a multitude of environments, all whilst surviving in often-difficult terrain. Adventure biking gave me a glimpse of my genealogy, of my very essence via mountain biking.

Ambassador Profile - Dejay Birtch

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Best known for his accomplishments on a singlespeed, Dejay Birtch is a mountain biker and ambassador to the mountain biking community involved with the sport both on and off the bike whose illustrious career spans 20 years. He currently lives and rides in Tucson, Arizona, although his roots are found in Port Jervis, New York—a place where he says that he cultivated his creative capacity for finding new and interesting approaches to the world.

When he transplanted himself to Tucson, Arizona, he took along his outdoor experience, added a bike, and began sharing his adventurous mindset with everyone else. Among many other things, he is an urban escapist, tour guide, shop rat and world dirt sampler. Sometimes referred to as a cyclist that races, Dejay tries to deal with that pressure by being the first to the top of many hills.

He’s been an endurance national and world champion and has crisscrossed the continental United States both west to east and north to south on his bike. He has designed trail systems and created cycling events. Recently he has created and promoted fat bike events in Arizona and New York and organized the 2014 singlespeed World Championships in Anchorage, Alaska. He helped start SSUSA (Singlespeed USA) and has been a part of Singlespeed Arizona for over a decade.

For his most recent project, Dejay has followed his roots back home to New York to take on a trail building project in his hometown. Like many east coast towns, Port Jervis was brought up on industry, which has all gone away at this point, leaving the area as somewhat of an economic ghost town. But the town does have an amazing natural resource that has been virtually untouched and completely off limits for 100+ years.

This particular resource is a large, city-owned, 2,000+ acre piece of land in town that is part of the watershed and houses three reservoirs, along with many rolling ridgelines and ideal terrain for a trail system. For a while now, Dejay has seen the potential in this piece of land for outdoor recreation.

With other nearby outdoor attractions like the Delaware River that runs through town, the nearby Appalachian trail, the Poconos and Catskill Mountains within a short drive—and the possibility to ride the commuter train all the way from NYC—the area stands to be the next best playground in the region for cycling, hiking, and other sports year-round.

And so he went to work convincing the town that this would be an ideal place to build some trails and start to draw people back to the town. Finally last August, he got the go-ahead to start building and went to work putting together the beginnings of a trail system.

To say that he helped to make a miracle happen could be truth. Currently, they are in the infant stages of building singletrack with at least 30 miles laid out and about 15 miles of doubletrack already existing. On March 19, Dejay held a fatbike event on the trails as a grand opening, which turned out to be a hit, and now has plans for a MTB event to be held on October 29th.

Dejay tells us that, “all of this is to spread the love of the outdoors of course, but it holds a special place to me, to help my small home town come back from the economical ashes of what was a booming industrial town.”

If there’s a bike involved, Dejay will always be there. Just stay tight on his wheel and follow him into his next adventure.

Dealer Spotlight – Velorution

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Velorution Cycles and Bedrock Bags call Durango, Colorado, home. They are ideally situated in a solar-powered warehouse at one of the largest trailheads in town, with singletrack right out the front door. Velorution has been in business for a little over four years and just a couple months after Joey Ernst opened the shop, the maker of Bedrock Bags, Andrew Wracher, brought some of his first personal bikepacking bags into the shop having heard that Joey was into bikepacking. After a conversation about bikepacking, gear, and business, Bedrock became a reality.

Over the next four years Andrew and Joey worked closely with their separate businesses. Going into autumn of 2015, they decided to just up and combine everything—now they’re co-owners of what is, to their knowledge, the world’s first bikepacking-centric shop that actually makes gear on site.

Joey has been in the bike industry since he began working at a small-town Midwestern Schwinn shop in 1997—after spending years working in shops and on the World Cup MTB circuit as a mechanic, it was time to settle down. He didn’t know what else to do with himself besides stay with bicycles and so the bike shop was born.

His shop has also had quite an impact on the local cycling community. Before the mainstream cycling world had ever heard of bikepacking they had built up quite a little community of bikepacking adventurers in Durango. When they began, people would walk in the door, see the wall of bikepacking gear and say, “what is that strange stuff?” It’s very different now—people come in saying, “I’ve heard you’re the people to talk to about bikepacking.” Joey admits that for someone that’s rarely on the cutting edge of anything, “it’s pretty cool to be an originator in a movement that’s seeing a lot of traction.”

The shop is also involved in a handful of local and regional cycling events. Every other year Velorution hosts the start of the CTR (Colorado Trail Race), a race Joey has finished twice and absolutely loved every time. They are also heavily involved in the Colorado Endurance Series, a statewide, underground collection of no entry fee endurance events. They host about 4-6 of the races on the 17-event calendar every year and even created two of them—the Velorution Valkyrie backcountry fatbike race in January and the Velorution Venture multi-day bikepacking race in September.

Velorution really believes in the CES events because they take riders to amazing places—they don’t require participants to ride multiple laps on a boring course, they capture the essence of backcountry and self-supported riding, and they are free. Outside of the CES, Velorution puts on bikepacking and fatbiking clinics every year, and when they have time they run a weekly group ride. In short, they do their best to get involved and continue to build the adventure cycling crowd in the Four Corners.

When it comes to advocacy, one group that excites the crew at Velorution most is the Sustainable Trails Coalition, a nation-wide group advocating for sensible changes to federal Wilderness Area laws that keep things like bicycles and strollers out of Wilderness areas, while allowing horses and skis. Instead of just perpetuating the status quo, they believe this group is challenging nonsensical ideas and bringing realistic solutions to the table. Surrounded as they are in Durango, by hundreds of thousands of acres of federal wilderness, changes to the types of travel allowed in those wildernesses would very much change the local cycling community.

As a staff, Velorution is currently a three-person shop of avid riders that are great at getting people into the same things that they are into—gear that they use and personally believe in. Velorution stands apart from the crowd because they look for staff that is truly experienced in bike shops and the bicycle lifestyle, with a genuine enthusiasm for helping other people have fun on two wheels.

Living in a place like Durango, there is no shortage of trails in the area but when forced to pick favorites there are a few. It’s not exactly local the entire way—at 500 miles long that would be difficult to claim—but the Colorado Trail in its entirety is a personal favorite of Joey’s. Of riding the Colorado Trail he says, “Something about having nothing to do but ride, eat and sleep is mentally calming.” More locally, they like to ride on any of the awesome high country trails in the San Juans, which are always a favorite. Andrew is also a huge fan of the desert riding in southeast Utah and of course it doesn’t hurt that the shop is also located at a trailhead. A two-hour ride from the front door at Horse Gulch and 1:59 of it will be on trails—not bad at all.

Building The Baja Divide: 12 Days Towards Christmas

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Building The Baja Divide: 12 Days Towards Christmas

Words by Lael Wilcox, Photos by Nicholas Carman

In San Diego, we photocopy a colored atlas into white and black. We cut the pages down to size and highlight probable routes in orange and possible routes in pink. There remains a lot of black and white in between—lots of unknown and lots of hope. We trace our fingers over thin lines, then dotted lines—over mountain ranges and to the sea. Maybe this road actually goes through? Could we ride there? If we can’t ride, could we push our bikes and make it anyway? Let’s go try. How else do people get there? Who lives there? What do they do? Let’s go see.

We take a ferry to Coronado. Saying goodbye to my godmother in the morning, we ride the Silver Strand to Chula Vista and to a dirt road over Otay Mountain. From the top, all alone, we can see both San Diego and Tijuana. Both America and Mexico—where we came from and where we’re going.

We descend to the pavement and drink soda in the shade at Barrett Junction. We pass a road sign to Campo, the start of the Pacific Crest Trail. We continue to Tecate, the border crossing. I sit in a customs office on the American side, while Nick goes to find pesos to pay for the tourist visa. He returns to retrieve his passport and gives me a cucumber-lime Gatorade while I wait. It’s delicious.

On December 8, a couple stamps later, we cross the border to Baja. We pedal through the gate, to Tecate and pass a tree-lined plaza. Old men play dominoes on park benches. We don’t stop because we’re on the hunt for dirt roads to other places.

On the first night, a Mexican businessman that commutes daily to San Diego invites us to camp in his yard. On the second, a shop owner in Ojos Negros invites us to camp out front. We buy a half-pint of Mezcalito. Are you sure you want that? Why not? She’s right, it’s gross.

On the third day we pass vineyards on the way to Santo Tomas and almost make it to the Pacific. We climb steep and camp on a hilltop. In the evening, trucks honk hello from below.

In the morning, motos flash thumbs up as they pass. I wave to their backs. We stop at the top of a climb to look out at the Pacific Ocean. It’s all downhill from here. Let’s ride to the beach! I crash hard on the way down riding too fast into deep sand. I hear my back pop in four places and burp my front tire. Ouch! Nick digs the sand out of the tire bead and swirls Stan’s while I pick the sand out of my teeth and finally sit up. He helps me back onto my bike and we ride slowly to Erendira.

On the fourth evening, brilliant purples and reds paint over dark clouds at sunset. It’s both stunning and menacing. Ripping down the coast with a strong tailwind, we watch the storm brew. We need to find camp. To Nick’s dismay, I stop and steal brussel sprouts growing on tall stalks by the sea. He points to the sky and urges me on.

Shielded on two sides by rock walls, we set the tent up. It’s sandy and the tent stakes hardly hold. Nick stakes and re-stakes. The tent walls flap loudly in the fierce breeze. We’ll be fine. If we have to, we’ll pack up, ride on and look for shelter. Under the cover of the tent, Nick steams the brussel sprouts with onions and tops them with a dry, crumbly sheep cheese. I swear it tastes like clams and drink the tasty broth. It rains in the night and after several hours the wind dies and we fall asleep.

On the fifth day, we cross the primary paved highway, the MEX1, at Colonet. We ride dirt to Ejido Benito Juarez and follow a sandy arroyo away from the village. Fresh water flows through the valley. Behind a fence, I spy fields of tomatillos, but I don’t steal any. The night is clear and we camp under the stars. A heavy wet frost covers our bikes.

The next day we climb to El Coyote and then Mike’s Sky Rancho. We drink beer with Canadian mototourists until dark. One of their Mexican guides, named Oscar, works in a fish plant in Seward in the summer. He packs salmon. You’re from Alaska? Yeah! When you go home to Anchorage, go to Thai Tom’s and tell my boss that Oscar says hi. Where are you biking tomorrow? To Coco’s Corner. You’re going to Coco’s Corner? He’s the greatest! When you see Coco, tell him Oscar from Ensenada says hi.

The Canadian motos invite us to stay for steak dinner, but they’re not cooking the steaks. Oscar and the crew are, they’re running a business. We’d rather not impose and we’re ready to find camp. We pedal away in the dark and across a stream. The sky is overcast and it looks like it’s going to rain again. We ride half an hour uphill to find a flat spot. Then I realize that I lost the tent. Dang! Where is it? Nick says that we’d better retrace our steps. With our lights on, we descend slowly to Mike’s and look hard for the tent. We don’t find it. Well, what now? We could either ask to stay here, pay to stay here or look again. If we stay here, we won’t find the tent and then we won’t have the tent for tomorrow. Let’s go look again. Nick suggests that the tent might be in the stream. I’m sure it’s not. And then, sure enough, there it is in the stream. I let out a cheer because I’m so happy that he’s right and I’m wrong. We’ve got the tent! We climb back to our flat spot and set up camp. Instead of steaks, we eat beans and tortillas and they taste great. Heavy rain pounds through the night.

The morning of day 7 is clear and bright. We roll out of camp and start climbing. The ground is still wet from the night before and it’s muddy. It’s that nasty clay mud that stops bikes dead. The mud cakes on our tires and chains and my chain drops off the ring. I put it back on, but it won’t stay. A few steps later, Nick’s tires clog in his frame. Neither of us can pedal. We start pushing our bikes slowly through the mud. It’s sunny and not a big deal, we’ll walk until we can ride again. Eventually, the sun will dry out the roads—for now the air is cool and it might take a while. We keep pushing.

And then I see them. On the side of the road are two unopened cans of beer. It’s the little things; cold treasure can make all the difference on a muddy forced hike-a-bike. We stop in the sun, on the side of the road to drink the beer. Meanwhile, a big white pick-up approaches, engine roaring and sliding all over the road. It’s Oscar from Ensenada! Want a ride? That’d be great!

We put the bikes in the bed of the truck and take a ride to the MX3. Back on the bikes, we rip pavement with a tailwind 60 miles to San Felipe, a tourist town. We stay in a hotel for three days and watch full-length movies on YouTube and eat tacos and write.

On day 9 we head for Coco’s Corner and stop short at Bahia Gonzaga. At the end of a paved road, on the other side of a military checkpoint, there is a really nice store. The owners are having a Christmas party and they invite us to join them. We all dance to loud music and drink Tecate Light and eat cake. We camp on the beach nearby and return to the store in the morning to fill up on water. A middle-aged man in a comboy hat asks if he can try reading my Bukowski novel. He does a good job sounding out the words. He wants to learn English so he can drive a truck in Canada. I see his son eyeing my bike. I ask him if he wants to try and ride it. First he shrugs no and I ask again and he agrees. He barely stands over the frame, but he pumps on the suspension fork and he knows how to ride. It’s awesome!

On day 10 we make it to Coco’s and stop early. He insists that we stay. Coco is alive and well! He’s the greatest. That night, a man arrives at Coco’s Corner. His truck has a flat tire and his family is waiting with the truck and he can’t get the lug nuts loose. Coco—it should be made clear that he has no legs—goes out to help with the truck. We make egg and bean burritos and leave one on a plate for Coco when he returns. In the morning I sign his guest book before we leave.

On day 11 we camp in a half built house just above Bahia Los Angeles. The four walls protect us from the wind. The un-paned windows give us a view of the bay, and the lack of roof—a view of the stars.

On day 12 we eat tacos with Pancho in San Rafael. Pancho lives in a trailer above the beach. He fishes when he wants to and he rolls fresh flour tortillas when he wants them. He fries everything on a propane stove top and I swear they are the most delicious fish tacos I’ve ever tasted.

It’s December 20, four days to Christmas and we’re half-way down the peninsula. We pedal across the imaginary border from Baja California Norte to Baja California Sur. It only gets better from here.

The Baja Divide is a projected 2000-mile off-pavement touring route from San Diego, CA to the southern tip of the Baja California Sur. Lael Wilcox and her partner Nicholas Carman have spent two months researching the route, and have recently returned to San Diego to start a second routefinding mission down the peninsula. A digital track will be published by summer 2016, with additional guiding resources scheduled to be published later in the year, leading up to the inaugural group start on the route on January 2, 2017. This group start—neither a group tour nor a race—is a way to encourage people to ride the route self-supported, at their own pace, by starting amidst a community of like-minded riders. Lael is riding a 27.5+ Advocate Hayduke. Learn more at www.bajadivide.com.

Race Report - Arrowhead Ultra 135

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Photo Courtesy Lori Dobbs / lori-dobbs.pixels.com

 

The Arrowhead Ultra 135 travels through northern Minnesota on the rugged and scenic Arrowhead State Snowmobile trail from International Falls to Tower, Minnesota. Known to be an extremely difficult race, it takes place in the coldest town in the lower 48 states and has a finish rate of less then 50%. It’s tough—throw in subzero temps or fresh snow and it becomes even tougher.

Barry Buhr just completed the 2016 Arrowhead aboard an Advocate Watchman so we caught up with him to see how the event went, how he prepared, and what he brought along on the journey. In the past, Barry has taken part in numerous distance cycling events including the Chequamegon 100, Maah Daah Hey 100, Rusty Ride 100, Duluth 100, Lutsen 99er and the Marji Gesick 100—although, none of them quite compare to the Arrowhead. Here’s what Buhrito had to say.

Preparation

Let’s start with how I trained for this event. I took a two-week snowboarding trip and didn’t ride a bike for 23 days, which was by far the longest time off a bike in years. Despite the fact that I was doing zero dedicated training, I was spending my usual amount of time outside in the snow and cold—getting a good workout everyday. I think in a way, this time off the bike was good because I’ve been developing what seems to be tendonitis in my knee, which started back in the summer, and time off the bike may have been a positive thing.

When I got home to Duluth, I had two weeks until the race. The very first day back it was -20 and I thought, “perfect, let’s get back to biking and get the cold tolerance built up.” All the miles and training had happened throughout the season, so getting my layering right and getting the gear packed solid was my main focus. In the days leading up to the big day I spent a good amount of time practicing with the gear, went on a few test rides, and felt really happy about how it all worked.

The Gear

For the event, I rode a rigid Advocate Watchman with 1×11 drivetrain and Vanhelga tires on 90mm rims. For gear hauling I made a simple sleeping bag fastener for the fork that worked great and had a Surly frame bag that held food, thermos, pump, tube and tools. On the back I had a Revelate seat bag that held the stove, fuel, sleeping pad, bivy, and extra layers. I also had an additional small bag strapped to the seat bag, which I used for more food. On the bars I had Barr Mitts, allowing me to wear summer gloves the entire time. I also brought along a Mountain Hardware 800 Down -20 sleeping bag, a Thermarest NeoAir sleeping pad, Outdoor Research bivy, Jetboil stove, fuel, and pot kit. For riding in the dark I brought along a Niterider OLED 800 light that I used in walk mode and a 100-lumen headlamp. I also carried a phone with an extra power source in case of emergency.

I decided not to use a drop bad out on the course so I carried a lot of food. Three peanut butter, honey, jalapeno, and bacon sandwiches, a big bag of trail mix, a big bag of sunflower seeds, beef jerky, two whey protein bars, four granola & nut filled bars and the customary jar of peanut butter.

For clothing, I wore what I would consider my “late October” gear most of the time. I wore thick wool socks, chamy tights with shorts over them, fleece base layer and hoody, an ultralight shell that I used about half the time, insulated hiking boots that I cut down the tread on to better mesh with my flat pedals, and a hat and balaclava.

International Falls

By the time Sunday arrived, the excitement for the event had come to life. We got to International Falls a little after noon—I wanted to have a solid amount of time for gear check incase any surprises popped up. The check-in/inspection was very smooth and I felt good about all the time I’d spent packing and re-packing to get everything dialed. After the check-in, we had to kill a few hours until we could check into our room and until the racers meeting so we drove around the town—I think we saw all the attractions.

After the rider meeting, I decided to suit up and ride from the hotel to preview a portion of the first snowmobile trail. The snow was soft as expected and definitely didn’t look like it was going to set up overnight. I rode back to town, had a few beers, and went to bed feeling confident in my tire choice given the snow conditions.

Race Day

It was warm and misty in the morning. I felt like I was dressed light, but I would later wish I was dressed lighter. I was sweaty in the first five minutes. I did pack a full extra base layer though and planned to change into that at Melgeorge’s. I figured if I kept moving at this pace I should be warm enough, albeit wet, until there.

I went out pretty fast, knowing that it would help a lot to find the “sweet spot” of where many previous riders had ridden the trail. Too far up front and I would be kind of blazing trail—after too many people and it’d be rutted. And rutted it did get—making it so you couldn’t lose focus even for a moment, or you’d catch the side of the rut and get pulled into the soft snow and come to a stop or expend a bunch of extra energy trying to save it.

It took me longer than I expected to get to the first checkpoint at Gate Store. While, I was okay with the pace, it also threw out my top time goals. I had figured that in good conditions with solid trail surface, this ride could maybe happen for me in 18-20hours and if it was soft or really cold, maybe 21-24 hours. With some additional adversity I figured 25-30 hours. Any more than that, and I figured something miserable would be happening…

With singletrack being my forte, I was riding relatively efficient though the ruts and morale was high. The hope had been to cross Elephant Lake in the daylight but alas, it was not to be. Riding by bike light now, I heard the wind before I got to the lake and knew what was coming. I thought I could make it across in my sweaty clothing but about 1/4 mile onto the open lake, the headwind got intense and the shell had to come out. As that cold wind hit my soaked body, the level of seriousness bumped up a notch.

Melgeorge’s Cabin

I finished the longest mile-long lake crossing ever with some nice folks cheering and Pam waiting at the end to offer some encouragement. She knew this was already taking me longer than I hoped. And then there it was, lit up like some sort of haunted house—Melgeorge’s cabin. I had heard what it does—it sucks you in—and so I hesitated going in. But I had brought fresh base layer and needed a place to change.

As I arrived at the cabin, TMF was outside. He offered this advice “Go in there, and get good and ready. Get dry, and don’t leave until you’re ready, even if it’s hours.” So I went in. The volunteers were nice enough to dry my clothes so that I had a full backup for emergency on the second half if needed. Two plus hours ended up being the amount of time that just felt right and it was about 10pm when I pedaled out of the driveway, with Pam cheering me on as she headed off to Fortune Bay—hoping to see me by about 11am or maybe noon. Her cheers faded and I was on my own for the night. All. Night.

Into the Night

I had left Melgeorge’s feeling good physically and mentally. By midnight though, I started to fade—my legs were still there, but my head wasn’t. I started literally falling asleep at the bars, doing that thing where you snap back to it quick. It was painful and just got overwhelming.

At about 2am I came across the Myrtle Lake shelter. There was a pair of ski’s leaning against it and someone was in their bivy. I sat there for a couple minutes, contemplating if I should do the same. Honestly, I was a little scared to camp because I was sweaty and although it was “warm” out, it was still around 20° and that’s plenty cold enough to send a wet person in hypothermia. I chose to keep on, knowing that there was supposed to be another shelter in about 12 miles if I still needed it. Seeing someone in their bivy gave me the confidence that I could hopefully do the same if needed.

After 3 more delirious hours, at 5am, I finally stumbled across the Elbow Lake shelter and I thought, “Yes, this is happening right now.” I pulled out the sleeping bag, pad, and bivy—set it all up and got right in. The best move would have probably been to strip down but I just kept my clothes on. I slept okay for 3 hours. I heard at least two others come and go during the time I half slept. Finally, when I saw it was almost 9am, I forced myself to get going again, I knew that several people had passed me and that this “race” wasn’t going to finish itself.

Back on the Trail

With setup/packing, this had taken over 4 hours now. I was freezing as soon as I got out of the bag with hands shaking while I re-packed everything. Then I looked over to the trail and a saw that a foot racer was coming by. This got me motivated to get moving and I actually covered some pretty good ground for a bit after this—eager to see that Surly checkpoint I wanted so badly to come across in the dark. It had taken me two more hours to get there and I don’t think I’d have made it there without sleep.

I met Bob at the tent and he had the most heavenly cup of coffee ever for me. They also had a bottle, which I declined at first but then opted for after the coffee. This quick pit stop was great for morale.

Soon after that I was at Wakemup hill, the most notorious of all hills on the course. It’s huge when you’re pushing a 50+lb-loaded beast through a few inches of fresh snow. I crested the hill and there it was—something nobody ever mentions—what I will forever refer to as the Wakemup Hilltop Halfpipe. It was a ditch with fresh snow. Everyone had ridden right down the middle. I surfed it. It was awesome.

Unfortunately, after that, the terrain got pretty flat. Flat should be easy, but it was back to long straightaways that went by painfully slow. I’d be going down these long straightaways but moving so slow because it was just like walking a tightrope. Then, when finally at the end of the straightaway, it’d just take a slight bend into another one, which was mentally tiring.

Coming to an End

At some point, I checked my phone and had a signal. I saw where I was on the map and that helped a little. And then finally, I rounded the corner and saw the uphill to the finish. Pam and a few others were there waiting and so I got out of the saddle for one last hammer. I crossed at 3:56pm, for a time of 32hrs56min. I was a tad bummed I had to stop and lost a lot of spots but otherwise, I felt pretty good—my brain having benefited greatly from the few hours of rest. The volunteers were so nice and the guy at the finish kindly guided me inside for the post-race inspection. I collected my awesome trophy, hot-tubbed, hit the buffet, and passed out.

Thanks to everyone who lent me gear—it felt good to actually use all the things I carried! I’m glad that it turned out to be a uniquely difficult Arrowhead and I’ll be sending in my 2017 application come September.

Arrowhead Tips

For anyone considering riding the Arrowhead 135 I would recommend getting out and riding your bike in conditions that make you uncomfortable. Remember what layers you wear for every temperature range because the event and location can throw anything at you. Practice riding with your gear loaded on your bike and know how to use each piece of gear—try to use the bivy for at least a couple hours in the cold to see what it’s like. Go on long rides and just work on breathing and relaxing when it gets torturous. And remember that the coldest, most brutal bike ride is almost always still better than most days at work.

Dealer Spotlight - SloHi Bike Co.

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Located in Denver, Colorado, SloHi Bike Co. has been in business for about three years now. This Mile-High City shop is the kind that believes every bike is as individual as its owner—why not get something that fits you perfectly.

Adam Williams, one of the owners of SloHi, has worked in the cycling industry for about 20 years—working as sales rep and sales director at a few different bike brands. After doing that for a while, he decided his heart was in the shop itself—and back to the shop he went.

Adam tells us, “It is an interesting time to go back into the independent bicycle retailer business. The retail channels are very open and competitive right now.”

He cites the local cycling community as the main reason for re-entering the retail space. “Everyone at his shop simply loves helping all types of cyclists,” he says. “Hell, we even have a kick bike in the shop right now.”

Adam also sees the benefit of having the neighborhood grow around the shop. “We’ve had the privilege to meet people through the coffee shop, see them start families and help them replace their cars with cargo bikes. Being a part of that is so rewarding.”

SloHi itself is a very small shop. Adam Quinney (Q) and the rest of the part time staff are very involved. Q is an active road racer and commuter—the kind of avid commuter that does not own a car and also looks great in a race kit. He prefers the exfoliating benefits of pavement over dirt. Adam Williams (Adam), who loves mountain biking in addition to his commute, has always been very involved in advocacy, having served on COMBA for five years in the past. In regards to advocacy, Adam tells us “I view it as a necessity to continue our sport and our way of life.”

As for community events, SloHi is very involved in the Bailey 100 mountain bike race. It is a huge fundraiser for the Colorado Mountain Bike Association (COMBA) and Take a Kid Mountain Biking. Last year they helped to run the aid stations and plan to double down their efforts going forward. COMBA is the local IMBA chapter that makes huge efforts to build trails and keep trails open in the area so it is a great fit the event to support that organization each year.

SloHi is continually working to stay active within the local community. They donate a bike to the Tennyson Center for Abused Youth every quarter and they also support the Colorado State University Cycling Team with a raffle every year—Adam is an alumnus there, he sees it as a great way to give back without having to buy a new wing for the Psychology department.

As well, Denver in itself is making huge strides in bicycle infrastructure. The mayor recently allocated $100 million to make Colorado a better cycling state—it seems that everything is up for grabs at the moment. COMBA has been steadily working to make Buffalo Creek a world class trail system and is already an IMBA Epic. They are also working to build more bike parks after the successful Golden Bike Park in Golden, Colorado.

Locally, SloHi has been working with the planning department on making their own street a bike lane. The plan is for 29th Avenue to get a “green” cycling lane that will run all the way into the heart of the city next month. For SloHi, the staff, and the cycling community of Denver—things are definitely looking good.

Advocate Insight - Casey Lajoie

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One of the most exciting things happening in cycling right now might not be what you would expect. With the introduction of a mountain biking league for student cyclists, the National Interscholastic Cycling Association (NICA) aims to create a nationwide cycling league that not only gets thousands of young riders outside and onto the trails but also gives them the tools to be educated stewards of the sport and the environment.

Founded in 2009, NICA develops interscholastic mountain biking programs for student-athletes across the United States. NICA provides leadership, services and governance for local leagues to produce quality mountain bike events, and supports every student-athlete in the development of strong body, strong mind and strong character through their efforts on the bike.

Aside from that mission, NICA also has a vision to promote the sport of mountain biking and the benefits of mountain biking as a healthy, low impact, outdoor recreation lifestyle as well as to advocate for the environmental conservation of natural areas and parklands, mountain bike trail access, and the development of sustainable trail systems.

With the goal of expanding coast to coast by 2020, NICA relies heavily on local and regional advocates to start new leagues and teams and continue to expand on the ideas and goals of the organization. As new leagues and teams continue to be added every year, it is with the support of these advocates that the goals of the organization are able to progress.

One such advocate is Casey Lajoie, a cyclist from Iron River, Wisconsin that has recently been working hard to start one of the first NICA teams in northwestern Wisconsin.

Lajoie started out cycling like most other kids, using it as a form of transportation and freedom to get to a swimming hole or a baseball game—going everywhere he could on a bike. As he got older this sense of freedom from riding turned into a love of dirt bikes and he progressed into motocross racing, where he competed for 15 years.

It wasn’t until 2012 that he purchased his first mountain bike as a means of cross training for motocross events and he ended up enjoying it so much that he decided to enter his first race in 2013—after that he was hooked.

Since motocross injuries had been sidelining him for years, he decided he would give it up and concentrate solely on mountain biking—he now competes in numerous mountain biking events throughout Wisconsin and Minnesota and sees the potential that the sport has to offer both mentally and physically—young and old.

At one point, Lajoie came across some information about the Wisconsin High School Cycling League on social media and it clicked—he decided that he wanted to start a NICA league team of his own. Like most of us, he wished there had been an opportunity like that when he was growing up. He figured that this was something that didn’t exist yet in his area and it would be a great way to involve and expand the young cycling community.

As added motivation, he had bought his son his first mountain bike in 2013 at age seven—they began riding local singletrack and he was amazed with his son’s skills and determination. His son loved it from the very beginning and Lajoie also noticed how it began to affect so many other areas of his son’s life positively including behavior in school. A once shy little boy had become confident and outgoing and began to make many new friends through cycling. Lajoie thought that if biking was able to help his son so much why not find a way to impact more kids and share his love and passion for cycling—the natural progression was to find a way to start a high school team and get those kids involved.

Since then, Lajoie has been working hard to start a NICA team in the northwestern part of the state. Currently known as the Northwestern High School Composite, the team encompasses students from a number of schools in the area. While the team is currently considered a club sport and is not yet affiliated with any particular school they are hoping to be recognized as an official school sport in the future as many teams throughout the nation are doing—allowing for the schools to participate in the planning, organization and financing as well as allowing for students to be able to letter in the sport.

The first step Lajoie took when starting out was to contact the co-director (Kathy Mock) of the Wisconsin High School Cycling League—with her help Lajoie was able to get a lot of questions answered and helped to put the wheels in motion for the addition of another team in northern Wisconsin. Mock was an invaluable resource and has helped him every step of the way—he urges anyone interested in starting a team or a league to reach out to similar organizations as they are more then happy to help out.

Lajoie also attended a Leaders Summit, held in Waterloo, WI, which allowed him to work toward attaining a coaching certificate. At these summits, NICA provides comprehensive coach training and licensing in order to establish and maintain national standards and best practices for leadership—something that will be beneficial in growing the organization effectively across the country.

In regards to their northwestern Wisconsin location, it doesn’t hurt that his team is central to some of the best singletrack riding in the region—if not the nation. They are nearby a handful of renown trail systems such as the CAMBA trail system in the Chequamegon National Forest, the COGGS trails in Duluth, MN as well as their own local cross country trails in Brule, Wisconsin. Thanks to the hard work of the trail organizations and advocates in these areas, the NICA teams and leagues throughout the region are able to use world-class trails for practices and events.

Lajoie’s team has also benefited from area events that helped out in the beginning phases of the process. In spring 2015, Advocate Cycles, the Angry Catfish and Twin Six held a gravel cycling event called the Hungry Bear 100 that raised the initial $4,000 in funding to start the team. Throughout the country, it is events like these and the support of companies that has helped to get many of these leagues and teams off the ground. Cycling events can be perfect fundraisers for leagues and teams as they get the local community involved toward a common goal and are often able to pull together enough capital to completely fund the start of a team—a very meaningful step to those involved. This common goal within a local community and the cycling community at large is one of the reasons the sport of cycling, and organizations like NICA, are doing so well today.

In the 2015 season, Lajoie’s Northwestern Composite team was able to participate in events throughout the entire state. With the addition of more teams in the Wisconsin High School Cycling League there will even be the possibility of a north and south league with a championship event held at the end of each season—allowing for more growth in the league as well as allowing teams to travel less during the season.

So far in the state of Wisconsin there are 24 teams with the upcoming 2016 season being only the third season of competition, which is a fantastic start to the league. Bordering Minnesota has also had success with 51 teams so far in their 5 years of existence with some teams even being recognized as school sports, giving students the opportunity to letter in mountain biking.

For anyone that is interested in starting a team in their own area, there is a wealth of information available on the national level and most states that already have a league set up will have more regional resources available. The organization (NICA) is set up in a way that will help provide anyone interested in getting involved with technical assistance and support for league formation, team formation, races, camps and other events.

With the addition of his team in northwestern Wisconsin there is much to look forward to. Lajoie tells us, “I am extremely excited to see and help this sport grow in our schools as the sky is the limit. I have enjoyed every step of this journey meeting and working with so many wonderful people in the cycling community. We wouldn’t be where we are today without the help and support of some amazing people.”

With so many young riders now participating in mountain biking and with more joining every year, the future of cycling and cycling advocacy looks to be very positive. For anyone interested in getting involved by starting a league or a team, head to www.nationalmtb.org to find more information and resources on how to get started or how to get in touch with an existing organization in your area.