The Beginner's View

When I first started mountain biking I rode the trails at UBC. For the most part these are flat, gravel covered trails with no obstacles whatsoever. I was pretty sure I was among the elite of mountain biking because I could go through these trails faster than just about anyone. The fact that the other trail users were mothers pushing baby carriages and old people out for a stroll helped further the illusion that I rode well. One day a friend said he and a group of friends were going mountain biking on Grouse Mountain and wanted to know if I would join them. I agreed, confident that I would blow them out of the water with my speedy riding. We took the access road up to the seventh switchback and as predicted I had made the journey far faster than anyone else in the group. In my mind I was officially the king of the mountain. Then we took the trail down.

The trail we took is known as Seventh Secret and has a reputation as one of the easier trails on Grouse. At first I was enjoying the trail, more technical than what I was used to but still within my abilities. Within two minutes I realized I was out of my league. The other guys were riding lines which were clearly impossible. Some of the rolls were so steep that watching the other riders go over them still did not convince me that this was physically possible. I was humiliated. I couldn't even do the wimpiest little rolls or drops. It would be another five years before I would return to the shore.

My next time on the shore was about three years ago when a friend had a brother-in-law who was not only a great rider but also a patient instructor. Riding with these two was a joy. My friend and I were at the same ability and our brother-in-law/friend/guru impressed us with his smoothness and ability to ride the impossible. I loved the physical and technical challenge of the terrain and the mental challenge of finding the best line, visualizing myself riding and finding the courage to commit to my vision. After a ride at UBC I always came home happy that I had exercised and spent some qualtiy time in the woods. After a ride on the shore I came back exhausted and elated. I would talk about the ride for hours and replay key events in my head. I even dreamt about my rides and what I would accomplish on the next one. The shore bug had bitten.

As a beginner I rode a hardtail with short travel front forks and bar ends. This was my commuter bike which had been pressed into double duty. For a solid month I went up to Cypress and rode Sex Boy about three times a week. After that month my poor bike was battered. Many of the frame tubes were dented from crashing into rocks, the rear triangle was no longer aligned, my handlebars had bent and it seemed every part had suffered from the experience. I replaced some critical parts to make the bike into a better shore machine (riser handlebars, Marzocchi Z-2 forks, rock ring, V-brakes). I still ride this bike as a commuter and it has cemented into my mind the value of steel as a frame material.

I loved riding the same trail every ride. Every outing I would try a new line or a section which I had previously been too scared to try. Thus I got to see improvement every ride. It was also comforting to know what lay on the other side of every rock or log or around every turn. Parts of the trail which had seemed insanely difficult were now ridden without a second thought. Being able to see the continued improvement helped motivate me to ride more.

It was on Sex Boy that I had my epiphany. It was an after work ride and it was getting dusky. We were near the end of the trail and being in the forest it was fairly dark and my vision was limited. A steep roll came up somewhat unexpectedly and I didn't really have time to react fully so I just put my weight back, tried to be smooth with the brakes and rode it out. I rode through smoothly and in control. When I looked back I realized it was a roll which I had been too scared to try previously. Because of the darkness I wasn't able to see enough to be scared and just rode it as if it were nothing. The secret to shore riding was unveiled, be smooth, confident and committed. This doesn't sound like much of asecret but there is a difference between having someone tell you the secret and experiencing it for the first time on the trail.

What's it like to ride the shore as a beginner? In a word, intimidating. The trails are steep, the turns are tight and the stunts scary. Even worse is that there is no let up, as soon as you are through one difficult section there is another one right there. Classic examples are wheelie drops at the end of a log ride or a sharp turn after a really steep pitch. To ride this stuff you need to be smooth and in control. Intimidation leads to being grabby on the brakes, putting your weight too far back and hesitation at the entry to a difficult section. All of these things are bad. It took me a long time to overcome my natural survival instinct of grabbing the brakes and to just let things roll. But this is the heart of shore riding letting go of your fear and using your head and body to accomplish the extreme.

I have ridden Moab, California and in other part of Canada but the shore is the only place I have ridden where the terrain truly tests the limits of rider and bicycle. Here all the technical tricks like wheelies, hopping, nose turns, j-hops are not just show-off maneuvers but are necessary skills to be a good shore rider. You wanna be a good rider in Moab? Grab a set of lungs. The slickrock trail is basically a hilly parking lot. You wanna be a good rider on the shore? Learn how to brake while riding downhill along a wet log.

I no longer consider myself a beginner. I feel I have graduated to the intermediate stage. How did I get to this point? The answer is slowly. I know there are teenagers ripping it up on the shore but that ain't me. I'm in my thirties and know fear. So far I have only had one minor injury on the shore. (I chipped a tooth when my face when into my handlebars on a failed wheelie drop on Circus.) I always figure that if I get really hurt that I won't want to come back to the shore so I walk away from stuff which I don't think I can ride. I learn my new skills in town doing urban stuff. It is easy to practice log rides on curbstones and the penalty for falling is not severe. Wheelie drops abound in town at all different heights and they usually have easy entries and exits. Always practice skills in low risk environments before trying them on the shore.

Riding the shore is definitely not for everyone. The first few times are frustrating because everything seems way too difficult and scary. But once you have mastered a few of the technical challenges riding anywhere else becomes dull. You know you have become a shore rider when you look at your old trails and think, "Hey if they put a skinny ladder bridge to the top of that rock there would be nice wheelie drop at the end."

Written by Stefan. Thanks.