Once We Were Kings
Before KOMS, races and dual suspension, there were people who rode the mountain on any bike they could find, just for the fun of it.
I STARTED RIDING A MOUNTAIN BIKE IN SOUTH AFRICA AROUND 1990. I had returned to Cape Town from living in the UK, and this new sport seemed the ideal way to explore the city’s amazing environment.
I bought myself a red Diamondback – no shocks – and soon met a few likeminded cyclists. We would head off to Tokai, ride up the jeep tracks and then head down them again: there were few trails in those days. Sometimes we would veer off the dirt roads, and try to find a route between the pine trees.
We wore baggies and T-shirts, illfitting helmets, and tackies, which we stuffed into those caged pedals. Quite often, our group of three to six or seven guys would spend a couple of hours on the Constantiaberg, and not see another rider up there.
Afterwards we’d go somewhere for a coffee or a beer.
Then, one day, one of our group arrived with a bike that had front shocks. We thought he was a bit, well… limp-wristed. But soon we all had them. Mine was one of those ‘ headshocks’ that Cannondale developed, in an early manifestation of its desire to be different.
Other riders started to appear on the slopes, but we didn’t mind: they were as ragtag as we were, and were clearly there for the fun of mountain biking.
There was something special about riding in those days. Part of it might be that we convinced ourselves we were pioneers, even though others had been at the sport for some time. We were never too concerned about the material aspects of the sport – the newest technology, bikes and clothing.
And then mountain biking exploded; and like many others, I was swept along by the wave of development. Soon I was in lycra, riding a carbon dual-suspension bike, and taking on races – the tougher the better. Although I was getting on a bit, I would race (unsuccessfully) against others in my age category.
Then, like just about everybody else, I started obsessing over Strava; and although I was too old to be competitive, I enjoyed trying to beat my own times. And one or two of my mates’. I upgraded my bikes whenever I could afford it, and soon had four hanging on my wall.
But recently I came across a photograph of some friends in Tokai all those years ago, and it made me wonder about how the sport has changed.
That process might best be
We were never concerned about the material aspects of the sport - the newest technology, bikes and clothing...
described as corporatisation, which happens to just about anything that becomes popular.
But it seems to have gone beyond the business of selling bicycles: a kind of corporate mindset has taken hold on the trails themselves. There’s something joyless about it all, as if the only thing that counts is wearing the kit and riding the latest-model bike. And, of course, being faster than the next high-powered rich guy.
Or maybe not. Maybe we old hippies need to find another way to get our kicks. 35