A Letter from Jay

Living, working and playing in the shadow of the North Shore – by Jay MacNeil
It is a cold frosty morning the sky is void of clouds as I look out my window to be graced with such a site to behold. From my 10th floor suite I have a view of all 3 majestic mountains, Cypress, Grouse, and Seymour, collectively known as the North Shore Mountains. They have a fresh light dusting of snow from the night before. The clouds have parted, leaving the air crisp and the visibility amazing – it almost seems you could count each tree on the mountain they look so close.

It is a work day for me so my only mountain bike ride today will be to throw a leg over my trusty Scirocco and ride the 4k to the office. Although its not really built up for riding through the streets with its 2.5 WTB DH tires and 7” fork, I’ve been too lazy to strip the parts to make a faster steed and besides I will need it setup this way for the weekend when I will no doubt get the call later in the week when we make arrangements to tear up one of the mountains. I prefer riding a hardtail on the “Shore”; as we call it.

The Scirocco is well up to the task and without the suspension you really need to be on your game if you want to survive, you feel every nuance of the trail and your inputs are quick and precise; this is how I feel so connected to the mountain and one with its energy. It’s a kind of meditation where every sense is focused on that one task reacting instinctively to the world that is going by so fast around you, and intuitively knowing what you must do to keep the rubber on the downside.

They say the goal of meditation is to block out all thoughts, like what you’re going to have for lunch later, why does my girlfriend keep raggin’ on me, or where am I gonna get the money to pay my phone bill this week. For me mountain biking on the Shore forces you to focus on getting down the hill, every muscle, tendon, neuron in your brain is all working together to achieve that end and that’s why I like to compare the rider as almost being in a meditative state.

Many a great rider, has come to the Shore only to be kicked in the ass and knocked down a few pegs. Guys who think they own, win DH races, or go huge at the mountain bike parks are still in for some scary moments, the terrain is so different and the conditions can change so quickly that you never know what’s going to get served up. I have to say the great unknown is how much traction you’ll get on those off camber, steep, wet, rooty sections where commitment is your friend and hesitation usually means a severe body slam to the ground; worse yet if your 3 or 4 meters off the ground on a piece of branch that’s only 10cm thick and starting to wear on the sides as previous human fodder has failed to negotiate that particular portion of trail.

A few of the trails will be under snow but the lower ones should be good throughout the season. The hardier bunch of riders will portage their bikes up the fire road through the snow to catch the higher trails, as the snow has trouble getting through the thick canopy of the huge forest canopy, leaving the trails, for the most part, clear of snow; they will be rewarded with leaving fresh tracks to indicate they have been there and suffered through the agony of the portage, a kind of testosterone beating of the chest accomplishment.

Well, I am geared up and out the door, it would be nice to climb into a nice warm car, but since I only own a Honda CBR600RR street bike, I’m gonna freeze my ass anyway you look at it. Besides once out the door I realize that I live in the best place on Earth and probably have the wickedest commute to work by bike to boot. After a short downhill pavement section I head up to catch the first trailhead through our central park. As I wind through the trails in Stanley Park the crisp air biting at my face, and the squirrels -flying monkeys as I call them- dart back and forth in front of my path, I prepare for the steep uphill that will present itself in short-order that will take me to the Lions Gate bridge. The bridge that links the Vancouver side to the North Vancouver side and which perpetually seems to be in some sort of repair. At the crest of the bridge is to witness heaven itself as the North Shore Mountains are presented in all their glory, with Vancouver city center to the south sparkling with its towering silhouettes, the west is an expanse of ocean and the east catches the early morning sun bouncing off the water of Burrard Inlet while small boats puddle around like little ants below the bridge in some misunderstood dance.

Down the bridge I max out my speed as my eyes water from the cold – 10 more minutes and I’ll be bathed in the warmth of the office no doubt happily greeted by Kaya, the office dog.

At work I will reminisce about my past season at Whistler and the good times riding with my buddies, interrupted incessantly by the phone ring from some far off kindred spirit working in their local bike shop. We’ll swap stories about riding experiences trying to put off the mundane day to day tasks of invoicing, shipping and such. We’ll agree that the sacrifice is worth the long hours, minimal pay and occasional frustration because there is nothing like working in something that you love. It’s a satisfying feeling working in such a laid back environment, with cool people who have the same outlook on life as you do. Creating bikes from nothing and knowing that you are not just making bikes but creating great times, and lasting memories for the people that buy your stuff – this is really what we do.

I don’t know if our customers really understand that we are so much like them, that we are not a bunch of business guys just trying to make a buck. We are a group of riders that have a passion for bikes, and want the world to share in the experience; we build them so you can enjoy them.