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Crew Issue 21

IED NOTE

n this ednote I was going to write about my recent pilgrimage to the Santuario della Madonna del Ghisallo (the sanctuary of the patron saint of cycling) in Italy. It was a borderline

spiritual, but I’ll settle on ‘powerful’, experience and one worthy of retelling. However, that retelling will have to wait for issue 22 of Enduro. This is because one image from that pilgrimage has been indelibly imprinted on my memory.

Allow me to set the scene: the Santuario della Madonna del Ghisallo is set on the edge of the mountain town of Magreglio, 550 metres above the chilly waters of Lake Como. The Santuario is small but it is literally filled with bikes, photographs (many of riders whose lives were taken from them prematurely), jerseys, trinkets and other cycling paraphernalia stretching back nearly 100 years.

It’s an amazing place but the one thing that sticks in my memory more than anything else is the statue of the two cyclists that stands outside the Santuario. The two figures face the winter sun with their backs to the Swiss Alps. They represent the ecstasy and agony of our sport. On the left, a cyclist raises his arm in a victory salute. Sure it’s just a statue, but his face brings to life the thrill of the win and captures that moment when he realises that all the pain, suffering and sacrifices were worth it. To the victor’s right, the second man sits twisted in a heap, his arms barely able to hold his broken body above his equally broken bike – front wheel missing, seat and bars bent – his face is blank. He has nothing left inside of him with which to show emotion.

I pondered these figures for some time. It seemed clear enough that they were not in the same scene - the man on the right was a long way from any finish line (and likely never to see it) and the man on the left was celebrating a hard-fought victory, not a hollow one over a fallen opponent. What wasn’t clear was whether the two figures are the same man at different points along the journey, two sides of the same coin.

As cyclists, we are familiar with these two sides. One moment you are up the next you are knocked down. One day you are picking yourself up off the floor and the next you are riding high.

I came back to the image of this statue many times over the last few months and I think it serves as an important reminder about how being cyclists shapes us as people and how it brings us together. We endure a lot, but our sacrifice makes victory – in whatever form it comes – oh so sweet. The bike can take a lot, but it can give a lot.

Performances at the recent Real Insurance XCM Series, which you can read about in this issue, provide some good examples of this. You have the super performance of Shaun Lewis winning the first two races before being struck down with sickness and recording a DNF in the third, Andy Blair being pipped at the post in round two before turning it around to win round three and then there’s Ben Mather who returned to the podium five months after breaking his patella and collarbone in a horrific crash on the road.

I could go on, but the image of these two men will mean different things to different people. I’ll finish up by offering a rough translation of the words that appear below the statue and end this little rant in the usual fashion - enjoy issue 21!

then God created the bicycle because man he did needan instrument of fatigue and excitementin the difficult journey of life.on this hillit has become monument to the epic sports of our people that has always been

fierce in virtue

sweet in sacrifice.

The challenge and reward of The Mongolia Bike

challenge

ENDURO21 38

In August last year, Rohin Adams, along with six other riders from Melbourne, made the journey to Mongolia for the aptly titled “Mongolia Bike Challenge presented by Orbea”. Stepping out of their comfort zone on many levels, these riders were rewarded with great racing, great people and a truly unique experience.

words rohin adams | photos by ottavio tomasini

Some days the bunch stayed together for nearly half of the average 120km stage. It was a case of safety in numbers and many riders turned themselves inside out to stay in the group knowing that a long, lonely and tough ride would await them if and when they got trailed off

ENDURO 2139

The Mongolia Bike Challenge included nine stages totalling 1,200kms with over 10,000 meters in climbing. No wonder it was touted as the hardest mountain bike stage race in the Asia Pacific region. Having made it through the other side, I can, with absolute certainly, confirm that the title is warranted.

I chose to attend this event for many reasons, including: to see a country that would not be on the list for most travellers, to experience another culture, to ride in a spectacularly remote location, to attend a truly international event and to be challenged beyond my known comfort levels.

I entered the event some nine months prior to the start date and for the first few months I was mostly trying to avoid the hard riding that I knew would be needed to prepare for an average daily stage of 120kms. I hardly did any long rides and focussed instead on cross country racing and more high intensity work. I couldn’t honestly say that this was part of my preparation for Mongolia, it’s just that I love riding my bike for a few hours at a time and a 20 hour week in the saddle sounds like no fun at all to me.

I realised though that eventually I had to step into gear and, along with some great friends, we put in some hard yards and got some long rides under the belt. With a lot of the hard work done, the months were ticking down and I began to think the body and mind were ready for this event.

Looking back, what I thought of as “ready” before I left is quite amusing, and failed completely to appreciate what my body and mind would endure in Mongolia. What could possibly have made me ready for this event? I had done a handful of tough rides in near perfect conditions on near perfect roads and trails. Sure they had made me tired, but they had not battered and bruised my body and mind in a way that could have prepared me for what lay ahead in Mongolia. The approach I now know I should have taken is: ride for as long as possible as hard as I possibly could in the worst conditions imaginable. Is it blowing a gale outside? Good, go and ride across a desert for 80 kilometres into that gale on a road that is rougher than a warm Carlton Draught (and that just describes stage one).

Anyway, we are all “ready” and arrived with our bikes in Mongolia looking forward to what the race had to offer. The new surroundings

Having spent 4 days hanging on to the bunch as we raced across the Mongolian desert the mountain stages were well received by me. Whilst climbing those hills hurt, it seemed to hurt the others more so I was happy.

ENDURO 21 40ENDURO21 40

were exciting and, obviously, different. It had largely been my idea to make this pilgrimage so people were thanking me in advance for dragging them way up north into this amazing place. They had spoken too soon, however.

Stage 1 was the Carlton Draught stage described above. It was horrific. After the stage, we were in shock. What had we done? What had I done? The other six Aussies were pointing their fingers at me. Not such a great idea being the insitigator now…. We were one day in and each and every one of us had just been pushed physically, mentally and emotionally further than ever before. But we were all alive and as Melinda Jackson pointed out “we are in Mongolia”. She was right, we were in Mongolia and our definition of physical, mental and emotional limits were about to be turned upside down.

After stage 1, we were camped on the flatter part of a hip on a small rise with not a tree in sight and watching the sun set over the barren hills in the distance with the most amazing colours lighting up the sky. We were indeed in Mongolia. Bidons were ready, chains had been cleaned and lubricated and a truck load of food had been consumed. As the last flicker of light disappeared behind the barren hills we retired to our tents and one of the crew yelled from their tents, “Guess what we get to do tomorrow kids!” In chorus, we all yelled back “RIDE BIKES!”

The days came and went. Each day we were pushed to our very limits. Distances got further, sand got deeper, rutted roads went for longer, hills became steeper but still at the end of each day we were all there - we all supported each other both on and off the bike. We took every challenge and treated it for what it was, an amazing experience.

It was quite early on in the race that I realised that the body is an

amazing thing; never at home could I have kept racing under those conditions day after day and get through the 4 to 7 hrs on the bike. But when that is all you have to do, somehow the body just adapts gets through it. As the body adapted, the distances each day became less daunting, despite the fact that the hills were getting bigger and longer. By the mid-way point of the race, we had figured this race out, we just had to make it through each day and if we kept that up, we could get to the end.

On paper some of the stages looked pretty easy. For example, 130kms, 1300m elevation with only 2 climbs and the last 55kms downhill. It wasn’t easy. It was horrendously hard. I feel embarrassed for thinking it could possibly have been easy. Other stages didn’t look easy any way you looked at them. Stage 7 had 59 creek crossings and we spent more than 50kms on roads that were covered in tennis ball sized rocks with hardly a smooth or firm section in them. If we weren’t pushing across a creek or fully flowing river we were bouncing off rocks trying to keep momentum. It was horrendous, every single metre of it, yet within an hour of being at camp, this time amongst the trees beside a beautiful river all was forgotten and our thoughts were turned towards the next day’s 144km stage with 2600m elevation over some 9 climbs. Yes kids, tomorrow we get to ride bikes, again.

Ok so sure, I wouldn’t choose to go do a training ride over a lot of those stages, but if I had not attended this event I would not have seen some of the most spectacular and remote areas in the world. We had some magnificent experiences, climbing or descending through rocky gorges, climbing up and over massive mountains with 360 degree views, passing countless herds of yaks, goats, cows and sheep grazing on the lush green grasses in the valleys between the hills, rounding huge rock crops that looked as if they could fall at any

Peak hour in Mongolia

ENDURO 2141

moment yet knowing that they have probably stood that way for thousands of years. The great thing about mountain biking is that no matter who wins or who loses we all have to get through the same course. It somehow applies a beautiful and simple levelling to the field and means that the riders all have at least one thing in common. Stage racing fosters a community atmosphere and as well as sharing every metre of trail on the course each day, riders also share beautiful campsites, amazing horizons and, yes, the odd sand storm where everyone runs to hold down the food tent. Add in a good dose of stories of riding, work, family and friends that we each bring from all over the world and you get exactly what I was looking for, a life-enriching experience.

The Mongolia Bike Challenge was for me a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I know that next year, and the year after and the year after that, I will not be back. But that’s got as much to do with my desire to search for the next life challenge and enriching experience as it has to do with the fact that, well knowing what I have to go through would actually make that event even harder!

The organisers were amongst the best in the world. The food was quite amazing and forever changing. Just the fact that other riders are at this event puts them on the same page as you and thus are well worth knowing. And the lands of Mongolia are beyond words to me. They met and exceeded my every expectations and I can say that over 9 stages you get to see so many different landscapes that the mind is filled with beautiful pictures. And the pain, well most of that’s forgotten.

What I’m saying is this event has so much to offer everybody. Just the sheer sense of achievement I experienced in finishing each day, which was then magnified as I crossed the line on the last day, gives me goose bumps all over my body as I write this.

And that’s it isn’t it? That’s why I, rather, that’s why we ride bikes. That’s why I go to events and that’s why I choose to challenge myself: for that amazing feeling of knowing that I have just completed something amazing.

And while I won’t be returning to Mongolia anytime soon, I recommend that anyone else who is at all inclined to do it should bite the bullet and race the Mongolian Bike Challenge. It is a truly unique race which I will remember for the rest of my days.

y weapon of choice for mar-athon racing is a Felt Nine Carbon 29er hardtail with a Sram XX groupset. With the lightweight SID fork, the

bike tips the scales at around 9kg, but the addition of a rigid fork drops the weight to about 8kg. This weight saving was my primary motivation, although I had reservations as to whether any benefit would be outweighed by the cost to speed in the rough stuff or discomfort at the end of a 4hr + marathon.

So how much difference can a 1kg weight saving make? Since a fork is essentially a static component (i.e. non-rotating) it is relatively easy to get a rough idea via a quick back-of-the-envelope calculation. Let’s as-sume that you are moving really well up a hill at say 1500 vertical metres per hour (fast), a weight loss of 1kg would result in a power saving of around 4W. It doesn’t sound like

much, does it? I suppose I could try a few other ways to work it out, but I reckon the best thing is to give them a ride.

First impressionsSince grams are grams, the first fork to

get mounted on the Felt was the Niner which came in 30grams leaner than the DT offering. The first thing I noticed was, unsurprisingly, the weight. These things made the front of my bike feel weightless and I found myself popping wheelies effortlessly before the end of the driveway. The second thing I noticed was the steering. With a 80 or 100mm travel fork it is tricky to get the front end of a 29er as low as I like, but the shorter rigid fork made the front end nice and low as well as steepening the head angle slightly. This made the steering feel lighting fast, a feeling no doubt assisted by the added stiffness achieved in removing all the moving parts. I was definitely excited, the steering felt fast,

direct and concise...it was good in the drive-way, but how would it handle the trails?

My local trails are pretty rough, not the kind of riding that I really expect a rigid fork to perform well on, but they were surprisingly good. The lighter weight had me out of the seat, jamming it up the climbs and, I wasn’t finishing rides with my arms and hands in pieces. It became clear pretty early on that it wasn’t so much the size of the bumps that was an issue, but rather the positioning and frequency. For example: big rocks and step ups weren’t generally a problem, but smaller continuous bumps were uncomfortable and braking ruts coming into corners were horrible as your eyes rattle around in their sockets trying desperately to focus on the approaching trail. Drop-offs of anything over about 50cm that the SIDs would normally eat up also required a bit more caution and had to be approached with less speed.

As an elite category racer, I am always looking for anything that might give me a competitive edge and I often tailor my bike set-up for specific events. Rigid forks are something that I have always wanted to try for certain marathon races, so when I was given the opportunity to test two of the best rigid carbon forks on the market I jumped at the chance. The forks that arrived for me to test were the Niner and the DT XRR470, both sub 600g forks from well-known manufacturers. So if you are a weight-conscious racer that has wondered what it might be like to drop over 1kg from the weight of your bike, someone who appreciates simplicity and low maintenance, or a weird singlespeed hipster that has no intention of moving with the times and getting suspension...then read on!

ShooT oUT!

MWords By manly flair

racing rigidThe first big test for the rigid fork would

be the Highland Fling at Bundanoon. In a race like The Fling, the crux is undoubtedly the climbs and fire road sections, as most of the singletrack is in the first half of the race and rarely results in a decisive selec-tion. With lingering concerns as to whether the weight advantage would be outweighed by losses elsewhere, I did a reconnaissance ride. The trails for The Fling are quite smooth and generally not very technical and the rigid fork felt fine. Getting to know the singletrack sections also helped me to be able to pick lines better suited to the fork and I was soon convinced that they would not slow me down. On the fire roads and climbs they felt awe-some and my only remaining doubt was the cumulative effect that 110km of racing with rigid forks might have on my body.

On to the race itself, the fork was just as I found in training. The mellow singletrack and a parcour dominated by critical fireroad climbs were perfect for the lighter-weight rigid fork. The only issue was a couple of sustained sections of bumpy grass paddocks, but despite some momentary discomfort, they didn’t feel like they slowed me down, nor did I have any ongoing pain. In the end I lost the race by seconds. Would I have won if I had had my SIDs? Or would I have been dropped on a climb…? It’s really hard to say, but I reckon I will ride them again next year.

The next race was a club XC race at Kowen Forest and lining up against Dan McConnell it was looking like it would be another solid

test for the rigid fork (and for me). Having not ridden the course, the first lap was fairly interesting. A small amount of overnight rain made some of the corners and roots slippery and the fork certainly reduced the allowable margin for error. I found the descent quite bumpy, but was able to ride at the front of the race until the final lap. At that point, Macca gapped me on the top of the main climb on the last lap and I went into the long downhill a few seconds down. Normally a few risks would soon rectify this situation but the harder I pushed the more I was getting bounced around. I just could not bridge the gap to Dan, who had no doubt sensed that he had me on the ropes. My conclusion was that the rigid fork, although great in a marathon where a couple of seconds can be absorbed on a fire road or climb, isn’t really suited to XC racing where the descents are so crucial. It also reminded me that despite being non-technical Kowen is quite bumpy and 1.5hrs of XC certainly knocked me around more than a 4.5hr marathon.

What I have described so far is easily applicable to either fork equally. There are differences in how they feel, but it is fair to say that the differences are subtle com-pared to the quantum leap between rigid and suspension.

so what is the difference? The most obvious difference is how they

look. The designers at Niner have really em-braced the flexibility which can be achieved when working with carbon and the result is a beautifully shaped 1-piece fork. On the other

hand, the DT fork is a 3-piece design consist-ing of carbon steerer, crown and stanchions all bonded together to magnesium dropouts, which looks less like a work of art and more like a bunch of geometric shapes glued together.

In terms of how they ride, the DT fork felt like it was a bit harsher than the Niner. Let’s be fair though, we are talking about 2 rigid carbon forks here, they were both harsh but the Niner felt slightly more compliant than the DT which inspired a touch more confi-dence in the rough. I think this is primarily due to the rake on the Niner being 45mm compared to the 41mm on the DT. While you might think this geometry difference would result in very different handling character-istics it wasn’t very noticeable as both forks felt very fast and nimble, typical of a steep head angle and small rake. I believe the main advantage of the larger rake on the Niner was that it allowed the fork to flex a little more and absorb bumps without seeming to sacrifice torsional stiffness. This meant that it felt more comfortable, but no less precise in the corners. It is possible that this was also due to the combination of the frame and fork as the Felt Nine has a relatively steep head angle and a slacker frame might not result in the same sensations.

horses for coursesIn the right race or on the right trails,

a rigid carbon fork can be really good. The sheer light weight is amazing and could be just the mental edge that can have you

ENDURO 2197

vital stats:

weight (claimed)

weight (actual with cut steerer)

fork offset

rider weight limit?

rrp

niner

565 grams

n/a

45mm

none

$549-

dt Xrr470

595 grams

n/a

41mm

95 KG

$499-

weightinglooks 10%

weight 40%the ride 50%

overall score

niner1096

7.6

dt Xrr470585

6.2

climbing like a hero and the nimble steer-ing and steeper head angle would make just about any bike feel like it is ready to race. They do however have their limitations which are soon uncovered on rougher trails and in races where the bumpy sections are decisive. If you are focussed on racing and you are thinking of investing in a rigid fork I wouldn’t rush out to sell your bouncy forks, allowing you to choose the right fork for each race rather than committing to one. I would say that rigid forks are slightly better suited to 29ers as I found that the races I would use the rigid fork for are the same ones I would chose to race my Felt Nine (29er) over the Six (26er).

The bigger wheels also help to smooth out some of the bumps that would become uncomfortable over time, but big hits are big hits and no matter what wheel size you have that force is going straight into your body if you are running a rigid fork. Although able to successfully negotiate some fairly gnarly trails like Hammerhead at Stromlo, the rigid forks don’t really inspire much confidence on these types of trails and that is probably not something that I would do again in a hurry. The diminishing margin for error and the forces that would bottom out a regular fork simply slow you down. This might by OK for a social ride but not in a race situation where you are trying to do it fast.

So having said that, if you are not so fo-cussed on racing and seconds aren’t so criti-cal to you, the maintenance free simplicity and stunning minimalist looks might appeal to you. I also felt like there was a certain purity riding a rigid fork and I found myself saying things like “yeah man, I like to ride rigid be-

cause I can really feel the trail and be at one with the dirt”....not really, but I can see that it might be a similar thing to what motivates people to ride singlespeeds.

so which one would I choose? For me the winner is the Niner fork. It out-

performed the DT in all three of my main cri-teria: looks, weight and ride. The Niner looks like something made of carbon: beautiful and curvy. It utilises all the best properties of carbon whereas DT look like they didn’t use much imagination and just took the insides out of a suspension fork. This brings me to

the next point: weight. The DT fork is limited by its conventional 3-piece construction and all the bonded joints have to be strong enough to withstand the stress generated at such points. Fair play to them, they have made a good effort to get the fork down as light as they have, but it is no surprise that the Niner is a lighter fork. Lastly, and most importantly, the ride quality. The Niner fork just felt better. The DT came across stiffer and harsher while the Niner seemed to absorb a few more of the bumps. If I had only one fork, it would be a SID, but if I had two it would be a SID and a rigid carbon Niner.

INFoBoX

ENDURO 21 98

Carbon fiber 29er forks supplied by Dirt Works Australia

www.dirtworks.com.au

NINER forks

www.ninerbikes.com

DT Swiss forks

www.dtswiss.com

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