The Radavist

Six months ago, I hung up my modern mountain bike and began riding a fat bike with thumb shifters and cable brakes as my only bike. Accustomed to the niceties of lightweight wheels, four piston brakes, and an 11-speed drivetrain, I’ll admit I didn’t have a lot of faith in this experiment. I had a feeling I would be itching to get back on my other bike long before the snow melted.

You see, not especially long ago, I held some fairly strong opinions about fat bikes. I worked in mountain bike media, had access to all the newest technology, and was convinced that fat bikes were so far outside the realm of acceptable mountain bikes that I chose to write them off. To me, it seemed that fat bikes were being marketed as mountain bikes but were really just inflated touring bikes. That is, until I had the chance to spend six months on the Surly Ice Cream Truck with a RockShox 100-millimeter travel Bluto fork.

Vancouver’s Super Champion
Words and photos by Morgan Taylor

In 2007, former pro snowboarder Tyler Lepore opened up a track bike shop in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside. With its wood paneling and white walls, carefully curated framesets and splashes of colorful parts, the space had a modern, almost gallery-like feel. Add in clean branding and a collection of t-shirts with hand-drawn art, and Super Champion felt more like a skate shop than a bike shop.

Chunks’ Nagasawa
Words and photos by Morgan Taylor

When we think of building a bike, there’s usually an aesthetic ideal and a finished product in mind. While many of the beautiful bicycles we pore over are works of perfection, the range of aesthetic ideals is as varied as the riders who put them together.

I’ve known Chunks since the early days of fixie freestyle. We used to get together on a weekly basis to do backwards circles and bunny hop converted road frames – sound familiar? That weekly gathering gave us the motivation to ride through winters, sharing laughs and forging friendships along the way.

At the time, the NJS track bike was an aesthetic ideal it seemed we all lusted for. The race-bred, yet street-tough style led many down the path of looseball hubs and B123s in less than optimal conditions. Some went even further, to a carefully curated, freshly imported Keirin frameset dripping in Nitto and Dura Ace.

Weather Be Damned
Words and photos by Morgan Taylor

I’ve had my eye on the Indian Arm route for years, but never put the pieces together to make it happen. Looking at the elevation profile it seemed simple: 37 kilometres from one coastal fjord to another, over an 800 metre pass. Existing literature indicated the gravel road surface should be rideable save for a handful of washed out bridges. When Lyle Vallie suggested we attempt the route on a few days notice, I committed without hesitation…