Beggars Would Ride
The Flavor of Uncertainty
The first mountain bike trip I was paid to take as a jet-setting international cycling journalist was a “media fam” trip to Ireland. Fam trips are basically junkets where a country/state/region has a pile of marketing money to spend and wants to raise the visibility of their area. In this case, Ireland. I spent the better part of 10 days aboard a luxury bus with a gaggle of equestrians, golfers, powerboat enthusiasts and bird watchers. It was a riotous time; I ate my body weight in salmon, slept in a genuine castle, learned that old bird watchers are dangerous people to try and pace when drinking whiskey, and that old golfers can shut down the after-hours bar at 3a.m and be ready to hit the links by 5. In all these ways, as well as the ways of writing for a living, I was really green.
As for the mountain biking, well, the Irish Board of Tourism didn’t really know what to do with me. The mountain biking scene in Ireland in the early 1990s was, to put it mildly, a bit rustic. The riding that I was shown consisted of rutted cow paths through verdant pastures, bogs, deep thickets of gorse, and occasional trees. The riding, at that time, was not what would have drawn me to visit Ireland. But still, I had a damn good time, and got my legs ripped off by the Irish U23 road champ as some sort of cathartic bonus.
The second time I got paid to write about mountain biking somewhere exotic, I was sent to a vegan Rasta mountain bike dude ranch in Barbados. There were Rastas, they were vegans, the company was primarily male and therefore they were dudes, but the “ranch” and the “mountain biking” were more aspirational than real. I foraged for breadfruit, learned a lot about the politics of casual racism and racism within racism as it pertained to how Rastafarianism existed in the cricket and country club culture of a Caribbean island, and I rode some pretty janky messy trails, none of which could have, at that time, been considered a very compelling reason to bring a bike to that particular island.
Some years later, Cam and I both found ourselves in Borneo, on the Sarawak side of the island, riding trails that, again, led me to question why I had even bothered to bring a bicycle. I recall tripping over my own feet as I struggled to hike through sweltering jungle “singletrack” festooned with a snake’s den of wet roots, sweating so copiously that my grips kept slipping off my handlebars. But man, the rest of the trip was surreal and totally awesome.
The highlight of our trip to Borneo was a several hour journey by longboat to a secluded jungle village. What you see in the photo is pretty much all there was. There was a rustic and relatively unobtrusive lodge attached and the villagers seemed to live pretty much as they always did, aside from casting aside the head hunting and cannibalism of their ancestors. Photo - Dave Reddick
All of this is preamble to say that I have gone mountain biking in some monumentally un-mountain bike friendly environments. And, for reasons that I will attempt to clarify here, I would take a lifetime of sucky mountain biking and being completely at odds with my bike and the terrain over the alternative reality; a planet full of mountain bike specific, purpose built flow trails.
I remember being a dirt bike obsessed child in the backseat of a car, holding my hand out the window and tracing imaginary jumps across the crests of hills that were scrolling past as we drove. Everything, every surface from living room furniture to lumber yards to golf courses, was painted with its potential to be ridden. I saw the entire world as a landscape for getting rad on two wheels. It didn’t matter one bit that my 11-year old on a Suzuki 50 reality was in no way capable of physically manifesting the radness that my mind’s eye was sketching out. It was all about possibility.
Cam riding one of the few sections of singletrack we were served up in Borneo. It didn't go much further than what you can see in the photo. Photo - Dave Reddick
By the time I got into mountain biking, in my early 20s, reality and physics had had their way with me, and I was already tempering my “what if” expectations. That didn’t stop me from a few years of expensive rigid bike huck to flat misery; trying to wall ride the entire height of a friend’s A-frame cabin (had to replace quite a few shingles to appease a VERY pissed off dad on that one), jumping off the deck of a shared apartment in San Francisco (pretzeled Yeti Accutrax fork and snapped Edco bottom bracket there), dead sailoring an old moto jump somewhere in Livermore only to wake up with yet another bent fork and some snapped handlebars and my friends looking down at me with great concern. So, I ratcheted back the “kid jumping mountains from the backseat of a car” ideation and instead looked at squiggly lines on maps and wondered “where does that go?”
The thing that hooked me about mountain biking, that has kept me hooked all these years, has been seeing where those trails lead. All trails are built trails. Trails wouldn’t exist if someone, or something, hadn’t needed to get from here to there. Or there to somewhere. The appeal of exploring those trails has always, for me, been about seeing where they go, and as an added bonus, finding those slices of trail that were never really built with wheels in mind but that somehow are just incredible to rail on a bike.
Does it go? Where does it go? Those have been by guiding questions for as long as I can remember. Even as my own desire to explore becomes tamer, these thoughts are still the first things that pop in my head whenever I see a faint hint of trail rabbiting off a dirt road.
Ahhh, the elusive ruins and the dotted red lines on a map. Chasing down this particular abandoned mission led me to wreck myself in a sandy arroyo several miles from my van, landing in a spiky bush and getting a very long long cactus spine lodged in my face about a half inch from my eyeball that I had to pluck out with a Leatherman. That, in turn led me to shotgunning two beers once I had trudged the few miles back uphill to the van, at about 9 in the morning, just to calm the jitters enough to carry on driving. Some days this is definitely NOT what I dig most about mountain biking...
More often than not, this type of exploration results in frustrating hikes, heinous bushwhacks, hours spent getting absolutely nowhere, and retracing steps in Escheresque acts of futility. I have had some prime mental meltdowns in out of the way places as a result. And, as I age, my desire to push into that particular discomfort is waning. But every once in a while, a trail rewards me with a few minutes of sublime high speed shale drifting, or a series of perfectly set switchbacks, or a chunky cascading rock garden, or a velvety tree-lined ribbon of hero dirt. And I continue to want to roll those dice, and prefer to chase down a dotted suggestion on a topo that dead ends at the bottom of a steep hill time and time again if the alternative was that every trail I ever ride wherever I go on this earth is basically the same repetition of berms and compressions.
That’s not to say I hate flow trails. I don’t. They are fun. They are easy to ride, they capitalize on the abilities of our bikes, they reward momentum, they can feel like flying. They can be beautifully conceived, artfully crafted, placed in consideration with the landscape in ways that would make Andy Goldsworthy weep with appreciation. But I never get to wonder where they might go. It's a given that they will dump out somewhere familiar, somewhere accessible, and that it will be relatively easy to put them on repeat, and utter words like "session" and "shuttle".
"An embarrassment of riches"... It is the pinnacle of entitlement to complain about trails that are this awesome, but here I am. Not so much complaining, because, jeeezus, just look at that. I totally want to rail it until my rotors turn blue. Buuut, at the same time, I need more roughage in my diet.
This feels claustrophobic to me, limited in scope (nitpicky pedantry alert!). There is no exploratory “what if” involved. These trails that were built for bikes, usually by mountain bikers, are entirely known quantities. The way to amplify the aesthetic/adrenal reward with known quantities is to make the jumps bigger, to build in more consequence, to raise the stakes in ways that I am too old and too cautious to want to face. And still, the purpose built environment lacks uncertainty.
Uncertainty is what adds flavor to my mountain biking. The flavor is always different, wherever I am. So is the texture. I’m still intrigued by what the menu might offer. I also acknowledge that my own appetites are often contradictory and hypocritical and subject to change, and are not shared by everyone. Fortunately, there’s diversity enough for all of us to enjoy a healthy diet of dirt and wheels, however we choose to eat it.
You just can't find stuff like these sweet little death spikes on nicely groomed terrain. Where's the fun if you're not dodging jets of sealant squirting at your eyes while trying not to skate into even more of those sharp little monsters? Where indeed...
Comments
jddallager
8 months, 1 week ago
Mike: I'm almost 77, so the risk/reward equation for me, especially MTB'ing, has shifted to the more conservative side. But, I still enjoy the uncertainty of exploring new trails on my MTB with a philosophy of "Rule #1 is FUN".
Non-MTB uncertainty for you probably occurs each time you sit down to write? What will I say? What's going to "flow" onto the paper/from the keyboard? Will it be great/good/OK?
Whatever feeling of uncertainty you might have as you begin a new piece, I'm thankful for the certainty I have that I'll enjoy whatever you write. Keep up the great work and THANKS!!
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Scott H
8 months, 1 week ago
This is such a great comment and somehow I feel like it’s what Mike needs to read right now.
I very much appreciate this site and all the fantastic contributors to it.
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Mike Kittmer
8 months ago
Couldn’t have said it better.
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fartymarty
8 months, 1 week ago
#Jank4Life
sign me up.
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Cr4w
8 months, 1 week ago
Nothing like a good jank when you're in the mood.
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fartymarty
8 months, 1 week ago
I've recently discovered rigid jank. It's the best. Low risk but tons of fun picking clever lines.
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JT
8 months, 1 week ago
My wrists totally disagree. YMMV though.
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mutton
8 months, 1 week ago
Word! Thanks for this Mike….
“I would take a lifetime of sucky mountain biking and being completely at odds with my bike and the terrain over the alternative reality; a planet full of mountain bike specific, purpose built flow trails.”
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Velocipedestrian
8 months, 1 week ago
>There is no exploratory “what if” involved in them.
Yes. I've started to think of my preferred pick-a-line jank terrain in rock climbing terms. A good trail is like a boulder problem with reverse gravity, each choice of move putting the rider in a better or worse position for the next.
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TristanC
8 months, 1 week ago
> I remember being a dirt bike obsessed child in the backseat of a car, holding my hand out the window and tracing imaginary jumps across the crests of hills that were scrolling past as we drove.
I remember doing the same thing on so many road trips - got vivid mental images when I read that.
I'm a lot younger, but I've already begun the same journey from "what is the hardest thing I can ride," to "what is the most interesting thing I can ride." I don't have any urges to do enormous jumps or drops, but I love following a new "trail" (often something that turns out not to be a trail at all) to see where it leads.
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slyfink
8 months, 1 week ago
Great article! for me, the appeal of travelling with my bike is meeting locals and learning from them. I've found it to be one of the best ways of experiencing a different country and learning about how others live. As mountain bikers, we share a passion for a sport, which connects us. Then I get to learn from a local about their country, culture, food, customs etc. The riding is secondary to the connections I make. I've found this way of traveling far more enriching than just visiting a place and taking in the sights.
Just one example, I was in Chile about 10 years ago, not on a bike trip, with my family. On a plane heading South, I noticed a gentleman wearing Sam Hill edition 5.10s... my son was 1 year old at that point and roaming the aisle during the flight, which gave me an opening. I asked this guy if he was a rider, and he seemed astonished that I knew until I pointed to his shoes. He subsequently invited us to stay with him and his family for an afternoon, organized a loaner bike and shuttle up a volcano, and I got to hang with locals in a way I never would have otherwise. He also told us about all the best places to go, and how to get there. All because of our shared passion for mountain bikes!
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Shinook
8 months, 1 week ago
One of my most memorable rides years ago was on a trail we have near here in WNC called Squirrel Gap, it's notoriously narrow with (mostly) low consequences if you come off. Falling off is sortof a rite of passage here. We took a route no one ever talks about figuring we'd explore a bit, only to end up on this weird steep janky trail that drops into a bunch of poorly cut and maintained flat trails with about 10 creek crossings. That was wild enough, but what made it memorable was being about a half mile from the end and the final creek crossing was over waist deep and moving rapidly.
What we didn't realize was that the 111 race that day was cut short to avoid this specific crossing, yet there we stood, staring it down and either facing hours of awkward climbing back or getting an impromptu whitewater trip with our bike. I looked to the right and saw what looked like an old log staircase to the trail, but the trail only showed up on one of four of our maps and no "official map", but clearly something was there. So we bushwhacked for about an hour until we reached our original swinging bridge crossing and returned to our cars. There was basically no riding on this stretch and no indications we were on a trail, except for a few log stairs and a few stretches that were clearly cut into a trail.
Our area was, at one point, a huge logging production and the rivers were supposedly used to transport logs from upstream. Near this area was, at one point, a logging camp where logs were plucked from the stream and processed in some form. I'm not super familiar with the history of it all and deciphering old books about what happened where is difficult, but enough tidbits are there and the mark on the landscape remains. While I was traversing this section, I couldn't help but think that 110-130 years ago, what remained of the trail we were on was built for easier transit paralleling the river prior to the bridge and we were traversing paths laid down long before us for a similar, albeit less commercial, purpose. Whoever built it left their mark on the landscape over 100 years ago in an effort to parallel the river for that mile or so stretch. These sorts of trails and features are littered all over the forest if you know where/how to look, some may still have physical remnants of this time (railroad spikes for instance).
I had some similar experiences riding in Santa Cruz visiting the old limestone processing areas in the mountains, seeing the abandoned kilns and trails that likely existed long before us.
There's something contemplative about these old forest areas turned hiking trails turned bike-friendly trails and it's something I feel like we're losing touch with. Many of the trails here were built over 100 years ago, the names and stories mostly lost to history, but they were built for commercial or transit purposes long before us. You can see a few stones in places with directions and distances carved into them. Sadly, some of these are being re-routed or re-worked for various reasons and the resulting "modern" trailbuilding just feels soulless. It feels like every time one of these trails is closed or re-routed and turned into a trail with rollers, jumps, gaps, etc with sculpted dirt, it feels like we lose a little bit of the soul of the forest.
I don't hate flow trails, but I don't enjoy them either. The natural trails are more engaging and interesting, but sometimes also give more room for contemplation and exploration. Maybe I'm just getting old and riding for me is different now for a litany of reasons, but it's kindof sad for me to see this happening even if (in some cases) it is a necessary transition. I just hate to think that in 10, 20, 30 years this experience will be eliminated in favor of these "modern" trails and lost in the squabbles between user groups, forest managers, and advocacy organizations.
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Grant Blankenship
8 months, 1 week ago
What you are describing is the difference between taking the landscape of trails handed to you and learning to adapt to it, in real time, astride a machine vs. taking the (for now) ideal of the machine and fitting the landscape to suit its strengths. I just can't see how the latter is in any way sustainable or, ultimately, fun.
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Skooks
8 months, 1 week ago
All of my favourite rides involve getting lost at least once. Getting 'un-lost' is always the best / most interesting part of the day, and definitely the part I remember the best. Like the time we got lost and thought we were going the spend the night on top of the mountain, but managed to find a beautiful single-track trail just as daylight was fading that took us all the way back to the cars. Dinner was dry ramen noodles washed down with cold beer. Memories like that never fade away!
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taprider
8 months, 1 week ago
https://vimeo.com/274572161
Most of you have already watched this, but it is worth rewatching and syncs with Mike's story
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Hawkinsdad
8 months, 1 week ago
Thanks Mr. Ferrentino, for yet another compelling collection of thoughts. I love flow trails. I maintain them and I've even built a few. However, the greatest adventures I've had, especially with my buddy Dave and my brother, have been on backcountry trails that aren't necessarily mountain bike trails. There is definite uncertainty. The risks can be palpable. We're probably going to arrive at the truck much later than we expected. One or more of us might be cursing a damaged bike, bleeding, or limping slightly. The reward to such uncertainty is the greasy food, the cold beers, the laughs, and the stories we have to share with other mortals who are perplexed by our backcountry exploits. The cherished memories of experiences characterized by uncertainty compel us to continue to seek such trails, even as we inevitably age and as we aspire towards risk mitigation and to staying the hell away from the mall.
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Perry Schebel
8 months, 1 week ago
holy shit, same!
> I remember being a dirt bike obsessed child in the backseat of a car, holding my hand out the window and tracing imaginary jumps across the crests of hills that were scrolling past as we drove
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Curveball
8 months, 1 week ago
I seem to inhabit the "space between". Most of my trails are certainly not of the flow variety. Rather, they're full of off-camber roots, steep switchbacks, and even steeper chunky chutes in a dark and often wet forest. But, they're also built to be ridden by bikes and by bikers. Not game trails going nowhere (everywhere? somewhere?). You drop into them unknowing what sort of bodily maneuvers will be required to stay upright and praying that your brakes will be up to the task at hand. You might find them on Trailforks, or you might discover them from talking to a guy over beers who knows another guy who might give some fairly vague directions to the trailhead if you're cool.
Welcome to Washington.
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Ride.DMC
8 months, 1 week ago
"The way to amplify the aesthetic/adrenal reward with known quantities is to make the jumps bigger, to build in more consequence, to raise the stakes in ways that I am too old and too cautious to want to face."
You've hit the nail on the head right there Mike. And to that I would say that machine built flow trails are only half the problem - our aged bones and overly cautious ways are the other half.
I could take or leave the bike park these days - but a quarter century ago there was nothing better, in my mind.
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Skooks
8 months, 1 week ago
Absolutely agree. I haven't hit the bike park in a couple of years, and I really don't miss it.
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MTB_THETOWN
8 months, 1 week ago
I was obsessed for a time with finding the absolute rockiest, steepest, nastiest trails that I could find my way through. But I must admit that I'm now finding trails that have a nice consistent flow more enjoyable. I love a good flow line, but I think my favorite are those trails in between. The ones that aren't just made for bikes, but that reward you for carrying speed and just flow naturally. As a fellow Bay Area boy, examples of my favorites you may know are trails like North Burma in Annadel or Burnside/Old Colma Rd. in Pacifica.
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Andy Eunson
8 months, 1 week ago
I think I’ve always explored just for the solitude and the joy of finding something. Discovering that garden of big old growth and faint trails a few years back was a highlight. Because I am willing to explore off trail and had dogs to walk I discovered, with some help from heat maps all kinds of so called secret trails. It’s those exploratory days and discoveries that I remember. I don’t remember the 50th ride down a familiar trail the same way. Still fun to be sure but sort of the opposite. Experiencing the new versus the familiar.
I’ve made mistakes too. I followed a heat map trace a few years back on Trailforks across a mess of boulders the size refrigerators and small cars. Someone pointed out that perhaps it was a snowshoer line. Oops.
Like many of us "more seasoned" riders, I too am over hitting lines with too much exposure.
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Allen Lloyd
8 months, 1 week ago
Agree, my goodness you have got to stop posting pictures of your bike! I rode a SC Superlight for years and love the simplicity of a single pivot bike. Every time I see yours I just want to buy one.
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Mike Ferrentino
8 months, 1 week ago
I'm not gonna blow too much smoke, but it is a good bike. Simple, handles really well, fun to ride in a lot of places. There are lighter, better pedaling bikes out there, but if you are not fixated on being the fastest rider up every hill, it is a mighty fun ride.
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Lacy Kemp
8 months, 1 week ago
The best rides are the ones where you say "What the f&ck" at least 5 times. Minimum. If I don't experience the roller coaster of euphoria and rage and then euphoria again I am probably just riding the backyard stuff. And that's not a bad option here...but mountain biking is awesome because it makes you feel alive. It taps into that fear mechanism that we all secretly crave but don't always know how to manage.
Long live media camps that are somewhat poorly planned where you find yourself complaining to the next person about this crappy hike-a-bike but ultimately end up bushwhacking though some forest to find the real treasure that actually puts that bike to the test. The weirder the better.
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cxfahrer
8 months, 1 week ago
One definitely needs a little bit of wilderness to have trails. Else it is fire road only. I always tried to find those secret wilderness trails, but since Corona so many people did that too. OK I can fly to the Canaries or drive to Italy.
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GrundleJ
8 months, 1 week ago
Amen!
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taprider
8 months, 1 week ago
Hear Hear
You stuck the landing on this one again Mike
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SteveR
8 months, 1 week ago
Always a great read, Mike, and exactly my thoughts. I've always enjoyed exploring the hidden corners of my city by bike, and that has rewarded me many times with surprises- remnants of old cattle or horse trails, cart tracks, or walking routes often forged by dog walkers exploring the natural areas surrounding new subdivisions. I came across one such zone last fall while out on a ride that was focused on (sorry not sorry!) fall colour photography. Along with autumn foliage keeper shots, I found a 4-5 km network of just the kind of trails that I mention above, some well used and relatively buff, others narrow, bushy, rooty- in a word- janky! I'll be going back...
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Mammal
8 months, 1 week ago
I tend to appreciate most types of trails, as long as they accomplish what they're plotted/designed for. Flow trails tend to be easy to ride slow, but if they've got the right combination of sequential features, they can be hard to ride fast and super satisfying to master. Adventure rides with uncertain results can be awesome, but so can the tried-and-true favorites that are like an old friend, allowing you to knock a couple some quick laps when time is a factor.
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Cr4w
8 months, 1 week ago
Wondering what's around the corner, if your bike would ride better with x/y/z part or if you could get your riding position just so... that curiosity is at the root of pretty much all of this. Experiencing a feeling then expanding your thinking and efforts to find that feeling some more and then keep it coming.
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Dogl0rd
8 months, 1 week ago
100%
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ackshunW
8 months, 1 week ago
So good! Thanks for a great read Mike. So relatable.
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JT
8 months, 1 week ago
"Where's the fun if you're not dodging jets of sealant squirting at your eyes while trying not to skate into even more of those sharp little monsters?" Sealant. The REAL reason fenders came back in vogue.
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Grant Blankenship
8 months, 1 week ago
Yeah, man. The joy from the beginning for me was about throwing a leg over a bike and getting lost in the woods. I did the XC racey thing later, the endurance racey thing....I've been experimenting with a big smooshy bike optimized for staying glued to flowy stuff for a few years. Still the BEST is when I set out down one of those random squiggles on an old topo map.
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kellyc777
8 months ago
This comment has been removed.
kellyc777
8 months ago
I feel like mountain biking has become a parody of itself. Bike parks are facades of the real thing. The bikes look like rolling motorcycle frames without engines and to me all the "new school" trails are essentially BMX tracks in the woods. There's a small amount of old school singletrack left in my area that was created by hoe or hoof. I hold my breath that our local trail org. doesn't turn up to "save it," which usually = more BMX tracks in the woods + a pump track. yay.
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Lynx .
8 months ago
Mike, haven't been here in a while, busy with other life stuff and a change in direction life wise for me, but glad I happened upon this (need to catch up on your pieces) Again I'm gona have to ask for more details on this "Dude, MRTB Ranch" you came to on my island, no one seems to know about it that I asked of the guys who used to ride in the late 90s. Also, if anyone is reading this piece, don't judge Barbados trails by what Mike experienced, that was some 30+ years ago, we now have some really good and fun trails, or at leastthat what riders from all over the planet have told me, from MTB tour guides from the Alps, to BC locals, East Coast XC semi pros, and a whole host of your every day, ordinary MTBer.
I also like to explore, or at least not ride those machine groomed trails that as you say, you know what to expect and how easy they're to lap. Have a friend of similar nature, but sometimes he goes a bit too far, normally it's on a night ride at that and we're bush whacking in the dark in head high grass.
Also Mike, I'll see you those whimpy little pricklers and raise you some real thorns that'll make you second guess riding the trail with them lining the side in areas LOL. That's my size XL hand holding the thorns for a size comparison sake, I ride XL/33-34mm grips.
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