Ridiculator My Eye Story and Photos by Phil Maranda

It had to be Digger's (Todd Fiander) films that first grabbed my attention and really freaked me out. Watching mountain bike riders catch huge air over the dried up creek beds and drops on the North Shore trails and launch off various buildings in and around Vancouver seemed totally extreme. As it turned out it was just the kind of wild sports story the magazine that likes to send me on this type of assignment wanted to put into print.

In mid-August, the hottest time of the year in British Columbia, I found myself driving into Vancouver as the sun was about to take its nightly dip into the Pacific. What a time to pick to go on a mountain biking assignment, I thought as I pulled up to the North Shore Holiday Inn a half hour later. I'm going to be sweating like a pig tomorrow if I've got to ride those radical trails during a west-coast heat wave. The truth…? The heat didn't really bother me that much. I would've been sweating bullets even if it was the middle of January.

The only thing really on my mind was whether or not I'd have to actually ride a mountain bike sometime during the adventure. And despite the fact that in the last couple of years I'd been ice climbing in the Rockies, white water rafting in the Fraser Canyon, and diving with frenzied Caribbean Reef Sharks in the Bahamas, to name a few, I didn't feel the same confidence about throwing my 37-year-old body onto a mountain bike and tackling the North Shore trails.

The following morning I met up with Rich Vigurs, "Dangerous Dan" Cowan, and Thomas Vanderham who were to show me around the North Shore trails and help me to make some images of their extreme mountain-biking antics. My first impression of the trio was that these guys seemed normal enough; there was no kamikaze look in their eyes or anything that would give them away. But like the old saying goes, "looks can be deceiving."

Watching Cowan and Vanderham attack a trail-appropriately named Walk in the Clouds for its plethora of ladder bridges-a mere 45 minutes later, quickly changed my mind. These guys are nuts for sure, I thought to myself as the two riders dropped six feet off the first stunt, The Abyss, then conquered (after several tries) a gnarly teeter-totter-like stunt named the Skookumizer (it swivelled side to side and up and down) before cruising out of sight down the trail.

Around a bend in Walk in the Clouds, I finally caught up to the trio. (I was trying to negotiate the slippery rocks, fallen logs, and other forest debris that littered the trail on foot while Vigurs was riding around the really tough obstacles. They were all stopping to wait for me before tackling each new stunt). I arrived just in time to watch Vanderham and Cowan descend a narrow plank called the Needle Drop. One stunt soon flowed into the next, and before long we had descended the full length of the trail and made it to the road.

The second trail that my guides took me on during the whirlwind tour was The Flying Circus. Cowan was responsible for this baby-he made it-and that was evident in the stunts that matched his preferred riding style of elevated skinnies and drops. "When I built The Flying Circus, people thought I was crazy; they thought I was psyched," Cowan said. "It's a long story, but I had a tumor and was going through chemotherapy at the time. Everybody thought that building the trail was part of my therapy. They thought, 'Dan's up there doing some crazy shit.' But now-a-days there are quite a few people trying to ride it."

We arrived at the Ridiculator a few minutes after starting our decent, and it was at that point that I realized just how lucky I was not to have been riding on the first day. Even though the Rediculator wasn't finished yet, the rest of the trail would have wiped out an inexperienced rider like me, and seeing the skinny, ascending log ride reaching a height of roughly 20 feet off the forest floor was enough to hammer the point home. The Rediculator my eye! I thought, staring up at Cowan and Vanderham standing on the top of the North Shore's most radical stunt. Who is going to be crazy enough to ride this? (If you did ride it Dan, please send me a picture!)

Day two, Vigurs brought me a tough-looking mountain bike, and although I wouldn't have to do much actual riding and could cruise around the stunts, the butterflies were building in my stomach just the same. Luckily for me we didn't have far to go from the parking area to where the Groovula began its rise into the forest.

We were all forced to push the 40-plus-pound bikes up the steep incline of the Groovula, and by the time we ran into Digger, I was puffing like a veteran smoker after ascending a flight of stairs. He'd been working on the trail since early in the morning, and when we stopped to check out his construction, I was thankful for the break.

Digger's trail-building skills are legendary on the North Shore, and after taking a close look at his handy work, it was easy to see why he's the master. He'd piled up large stones on the forest floor then packed thick, dark soil into and on top of the rocks, building a berm that looked like it would last forever.

Our rest ended abruptly when Digger mentioned that he wanted Vanderham and Cowan and a couple of other riders who would be arriving shortly to tackle a 25-foot creek bed as soon as he finished working on the trail. It would be just enough time for Vigurs, Vanderham, Cowan, and I to push our bikes the rest of the way up the Groovula and ride down. The idea was for me to make my way down a section of the trail while Vigurs used my camera to make a few images of me riding the North Shore for the article. Spending time at the top of the trail would also allow me to make a couple of images of Vanderham and Cowan launching off a giant boulder before they rode back to the creek bed.

At the top of the Groovula, Vigurs gave me a full-face helmet, shin pads, gloves, and knee pads. "You can't ride up here without the body armour," he mentioned as I slid the equipment on and then mounted the bike for my ride.

After I skidded down a short, steep, winding section of the trail a couple of times Vigurs was confident that he'd captured my North Shore ride on film, and before long we were back down at the creek bed just in time to overhear Digger wise-cracking with Vanderham. "I'll come at you like a raped ape!" Digger said about some subject unknown to me.

Vigurs, Digger, and I soon positioned ourselves in the dried-up, seasonal creek bed for the aerials that were about to take place, while Cowan, Vanderham, and a couple of other riders who'd just arrived on the scene, climbed a small hill that would provide the runway for the jump. Vanderham went first, rocketing down the trail at full speed, and then launched off the dirt ramp built up on the lip of the creek bed. He flew through the air effortlessly, releasing his hands from the bars, and then grabbed them again before landing on the other side.

Through the lens of my camera it looked like Vanderham was suspended on wires, but only for a second before making the landing. One after another the riders launched over the creek while the rest of us shot stills and video of each mountain biker performing various tricks like table-tops, releases, and such. Then we moved on to another stunt where the riders jumped onto a large, flat rock from another dirt ramp, flew off the boulder, landed on the other side, hit a man-made jump, and then cruised off down the trail.

By the time the riders were finished with the last stunt, my two-day tour was coming to an end. I'd shot all the film I'd brought and was hoping that I'd captured the essence of North Shore riding in all it's diversity. We left shortly after that, and although I did have to ride The Shore, just a little bit, I'd found myself at ease and wishing it could have been more.

Maybe with a little, well, a lot of practice, I thought, I could go back some day and ride with Vanderham and Cowan on an easy trail, and if I can't keep up with them, maybe Rich will ride with me…. The assignment, well, it turned out alright, and I think it will make for an interesting read. But above all else I realized that North Shore riding is not just about the place or the stunts, it's an attitude, a way of life.

Phil Maranda
Penticton, B.C.
extreme2@telus.net