£1,399.99 Pitch perfect – it opened Ed’s eyes to a world of trail riding
My raddest ride has to be the bike that introduced me to modern trail riding. In 2010, I was in Whistler, British Columbia, spending every waking minute in the bike park on a DH bike. One day I got my hands on a borrowed trail bike and ventured beyond the lift lines. My mind was blown.
Trail-bike dreaming
I returned home knowing I had to get myself a full-sus trail bike, and a two-yearold, second-hand Specialized Pitch was just the ticket – cheap, well-reviewed and a great frame to fit the kit from my hardtail to. The Pitch was arguably the blueprint for the modern a ordable all-rounder. With 150mm of rear-wheel travel and a progressive leverage rate, it dealt with nearly everything I could throw at it, and the geometry, for the time, was pretty dialled. The sizing was forward-thinking too. While many brands were making frames half the size they should have been, the Pitch had a reach of 480mm on the large size, which is bang on even today. I thought it sounded way too big, so I went for a medium and it took another four years for me (and the majority of the industry) to realise how much easier things were on a bigger bike.
When I’d finished with the Pitch there wasn’t a standard part on it, save for the Fox RP2 shock, which used to heat up so badly on long descents that it’d rebound at double speed. I wasn’t a fan of the brown paint job, so I took a can of Nitromors and stripped it to bare aluminium. The dropper post I fitted was a KS Dropzone, which had a lever under the saddle instead of a remote. It was actually easy to use, apart from in races, when I’d be fumbling around my crotch while trying to sprint at full speed.
Son of a Pitch
In 2011 I returned to Whistler. I got tempted into the bike park on occasion, and I vividly recall guinea-pigging the Crabapple Hits tabletops on my Pitch and overshooting a stepdown so hard that the seatstay brace dented the back of the seat tube. Another good memory was racing under the TV cameras to fifth place at one of the first Crankworx Enduros (in the non-pro category, I might add!). Sadly, all good things come to an end. Two years later, the head tube was so ovalised that the bottom bearing cup would fall out if I took the fork o , and a crack in the shock mount was the final nail in its co n. Still, we had some great times and I doubt I’ll ever abuse a bike as much as this one!
Having witnessed French racer Fabien Barel storm to victory on the prototype Summum at the Maribor World Cup back in 2009, I was keen to spend some time on the bike that helped him to the top step. My Summum was the more basic of the two on o er that year, but still a beast to be reckoned with.
Falling into place
Some bikes just feel familiar and comfortable from the first pedal stroke. The Summum was definitely one of them. I liked the shape instantly, as well as the really supportive feel from the Zero suspension system. However, I was less enamoured with the parts, and quickly ditched the low-rise bar in favour of the latest higherrise Renthal Fatbar and swapped the Kenda
Nevegal tyres for some then-new Maxxis High Roller IIs, which are still some of my favourites. The Marzocchi coil fork needed a firmer spring and some extra oil to get it how I wanted it to feel, too.
Mondraker are known for their forwardthinking geometry and the Summum was one of the earliest bikes where the Spanish brand embraced more radical proportions. While it wasn’t the full-blown Forward Geometry that they launched in 2013, it was still pretty extreme for the time. The slack 63-degree head angle coupled with the low bottom bracket and supportive, well-balanced suspension helped to deliver a ridiculously confident and stable ride. But it was Mondraker’s adjustable geometry kit that, for bike racers and tinkerers, helped make the Summum so appealing. Having the ability to slot in di erent headset cups and alter the head angle by up to two degrees in either direction, as well as choose from four chainstay lengths (435, 440, 445 and 450mm), was a real bonus.
Holding on for dear life
The Summum holds many happy memories for me, most of which involve hanging on for dear life as I tried (but generally failed) to push the bike beyond its limits. It was in the depths of winter that we all bundled into the MBUK van and drove south to ride at the recently-opened Gawton venue on the Devon-Cornwall border. To this day, its steep hillside is home to some of the best downhill tracks in the UK. I had a blast launching the ladder drop, sliding down the rock drops and trying my best to stay on the Summum.
Another of my favourite times aboard the bike was when I headed north to Hamsterley Forest to visit newly-crowned downhill world champ Danny Hart. I got to spend the day watching and attempting to follow Danny down some of his favourite practice tracks, seeing at first-hand the level of riding it takes to be the best in the world. Naturally, riding behind someone of that calibre is always going to be daunting, so I was glad to have the Summum with me. The confidence it gave was a real plus, and probably helped me onto the podium just a couple of months later at a regional downhill event.
I’m not sure I’ve ever felt quite as fond of a downhill bike since. Don’t get me wrong, it was far from perfect. The cable routing wasn’t great and I had no end of issues with the gears, plus it was plagued by some nasty creaking from the back end, which took time to resolve. But despite these imperfections, I’ll always remember the Summum with pleasure.
Rob’s radical Summum was one hell of a machine
I’ve always had a thing for the single-pivot suspension design. My first full-sus bike was a Marin Quake back in ’97, but growing up riding mountain bikes in the UK meant I’d always had my eye on an Orange. In 2014 I finally bought my first new ride since that Marin. That year I had a couple of shoots with the newly-launched, 650b-wheeled version of the Alpine 160 and I was immediately impressed. For a start, it was the first bike I’d ridden that, at 6ft 3in (190cm), actually felt like it fitted me.
Keeping it simple
I’m lucky in that I get to ride bikes for work and play a lot, so any bike I use tends to get a good battering and very little TLC. The Alpine 160, like just about every full-sus Orange ever, is based around the single-pivot platform and as such is simple and relatively maintenance-free, with just two bearings to change maybe once a year.
Aside from the sizing and simple design, the reason I loved this bike so much was the ride. The rear suspension always felt plush, with bottomless-feeling travel that could munch through pretty much any terrain. Orange’s ‘pop’ that’s ever-present throughout their range was there in spades, letting the bike generate speed through corners and over any terrain. The Alpine 160 kept you on your toes because the back end could get pretty rowdy, especially under hard braking. As for climbing, to me the Alpine is the best winch-and-descend machine you can get.
Mega LOLs
My most memorable ride on this bike was when I was on La Réunion in the Indian Ocean to cover the Megavalanche there. My plan was simple – to get the photography done during practice, then when I’d shot the start of the main event, I’d jump in at the back of the Mega Challengers race. I’d come all that way and I didn’t want to miss the chance to race, even if it was from the back of the second start. I had a fantastic time trying to pass as many people as I could on the brutal volcanic rock. All was well until an ambitious move led to a high-speed OTB. I dusted myself o , kicked my buckled wheel back to almost true and completed the race, even managing to not finish last!
My a nity for the Alpine has continued and I’ve owned every subsequent model, as the company’s ‘evolution not revolution’ mantra continues to better the bike. Today’s version, the Alpine 6, doesn’t look that much di erent to the original 650b bike, but has been improved in every way. Don’t listen to the naysayers online who’ve never ridden one, ask someone who’s owned one (or four)!