Submitted by: Martin Bohdal

Date: August 29

Get off the Garbanzo lift, thank the lifties, grab bike, adjust goggles and stretch out hands. Take in a slow deep breath while admiring the view of Rainbow Ridge and look down the Freight Train trailhead, long exhale. Group’s ready, inhale, pedal hard, berm, gap, berm, gap, big table, left, rock drop, left at the fork, gap, big step down, hip, back on the road, exhale. Get into Original Sin, cross the bridges, pedal the rolling rocks, turn down the rock face, berm, hit the step down and step up, rock drop back to the road. Wait for group, inhale and ask "Goat’s gully or the sketchy road back down to lower Freight Train?" Exhale. It was pouring rain so naturally Goat’s Gulley. Hold on, inhale and pedal through off camber roots, rock faces, hairpin corners, don’t blink or look back, turn right onto the road back to lower Freight Train, exhale. Inhale and shift, pedal hard, left down the rocks in the woods, hit the plethora of doubles, x-up the step up, left down to the end of lower Freight Train, clear the tables and pedal hard towards Dirt Merchant, big exhale. Manual off the road into Dirt Merchant, inhale, drop, left, double, step up, big right hand berm, double, double, creek gap, left, step up, right, cross the bridge, down the rock face, through the S turns, brake check for the two small doubles, exhale, inhale and pedal towards the step up to Lower A Line, exhale. Inhale and pedal hard, so many tables on lower A Line, through the trees, more tables, style the GLC drop on the right and stop at the end of the lift line for another run, big exhale and a round of high fives and knuckle props. My best run ever and I got to share it with a bunch of riding friends from my hometown of Portland, Oregon.

I just had the time of my life living and riding in Whistler for last five weeks and am homesick for a place I sadly had to leave. With two broken bikes and an empty bank account it was time to return home to fix bikes and plan one more trip this year. Even in the pouring rain that saw the beginning of Krankworks, every moment spent on the mountain was worth the price of a lift ticket or the hike up for picture taking and soul searching. I had the opportunity of being at the start gate for the four cross race, even got to see the four-wheel racers which was really inspiring. When too sore from riding there was nothing more humbling and enjoyable than sitting and watching the plethora of riders fly down the mountain on various trails. The sound of hearts pounding, of deep breathing, of chains slapping and of freewheels spinning still plays in my head like the soundtrack for the biography of my life.

The days I got to ride the Whistler bike park contained some of the best riding and extreme terrain I’ve ever done on a mountain bike. I did things I never thought possible. I rode trails that I couldn’t have hiked up or down (Goat’s Gulley), rode down vertical rock faces I couldn’t climb up (Schleyer, Whistler Downhill), over more continuous jumps than ever before (A Line, Dirt Merchant and Freight Train) and cleared some of the biggest jumps I’ve ever hit (Crabapple Hits). It took me six days to comfortably ride every black diamond on the hill, and some of the blue trails. I try no to give into my ego but my time spent riding in the Whistler Bike Park instilled an unbelievable amount of happiness and confidence into my life, both on and off the bike.

Seeing pro level riders ride the same trails that I was on was the most humbling experience of my mountain bike life. Watching them effortlessly skip down the trails like deer avoiding a hunter was the most amazing piece of my trip. Riding the race courses the day after the competition and seeing the lines that pros picked taught me invaluable information into the world of downhill racing. I still can’t believe that Sam Hill and others went top to bottom in under 15 minutes. That is insane. I’ve dreamed of being a pro downhill racer since I sat on a Cannondale Super V DH active years ago (remember those with the carbon fiber swing arm and Moto headshock). This year I turned a quarter century and am focused on one thing, racing in Krankworks next year. My time riding the Whistler Bike Park provided a better understanding of the terrain and of the physical conditioning that downhill racers have. One could easily describe this mental state as being obsessed; to me it’s an addiction and I see no interventions, just long lift lines and training rides.

I love riding and building the local trails in Oregon; Post Canyon, Sincline and Black Rocks, and am thankful for the many friends I’ve met through the scene. I am a better rider because of them. I am fortunate to live in state that has multiple trail systems and varied terrain but my riding dreams will always be in Whistler. I’ve taken that drug with life changing side effects and accept my responsibility for the outcome, good or bad. My name is Isaac and I’m here today because I’m obsessed with the riding in the Whistler Bike Park.

Submitted by:
Issac

Date:
Aug 19

Yeah, for me idea of going to Whistler almost goes beyond an obsession. The thing is, there aren’t a lot of words to describe something of that magnitude; maybe passion, maybe, for the feint of heart out there, madness? Read the facts and come up with a word to describe my obsession yourself.

I think the first time I heard of Whistler was when I was about nine years old. I was at the local trail system with my dad looking at the few skinnys and ladder bridges they had. The reason? We were going to make a mini bike park in our yard with skinnys and a teeter totter; so we were checking out the various designs. After a few minutes this guy came up walking his dog and asked what we were doing. I told him and he started talking about bike parks and stuff. He ended by saying that the place with the sickest park and the best trails was out in BC.

“It’s called Whistler,” he said. Right when I heard that name the first thought that entered my mind was: “Sweet!! I wonder how I could get there.”

Well, a lot of things have changed since then, but Whistler is never far from my thoughts; in fact, almost every waking hour of my day is spent thinking of it. I research the trails and the bike park finding pictures on the internet of them and watching as many mountain bike videos with parts filmed in Whistler as I can find; once I can see each corner -- each obstacle – in minds eye, I visualize myself riding them. Some days I imagine I’m railing the berms on A-line; other days I’m ripping the winning line at Crankworx. Most of all, though, I try to come up with ways I could get there. Like, if I make this much money mowing lawns and then get a job at a bike shop, maybe in a couple years I could save enough money to get to the place of my dreams. I’ve even considered riding from my house near Ottawa across Canada to get there. It would take awhile but hey, I’d probably get there in the end, right? There are a lot of things coming up in the next few years for me I’m not sure about, but, there is one thing I know: some day I’ll get to Whistler and that day will be sooner than later.

Submitted by:
Zeke

Date:
Aug 22

Hey Whistler, I have a story to tell you about my July Trip to Whistler this year. I had literally been counting down the days since January till I got to go to whistler. It was agonizing and it felt like it took forever. at last the day cam around, July 11th. I decided to bring my friend up to Whistler for his first time. we sat watching biking movies in the car for what seemed like forever. by the time we got to Squamish we were already wanting to ride. my mother helps as we were so stoked to go ride right when we got there. with a little help from my mother and a prepaid bike park ticket we got on the hill about 3:30.

we were riding for a while and then I lost my pass on A-line. I went into guest relations while my friends took a run. I didn’t have a receipt so I had to argue another ticket out of them. I finally got my ticket back and figured if I haul ass down A-line (my favorite trail) I should meet them back at the bottom in no time. Being my first day this wasn't the greatest idea. I took the entire run without stopping. this was by far my best run ever down A-line. I bombed through lower A-line, I hit the long long table and cleared it. this is where it gets ugly. I was going waaay to fast for the last table and didn’t brake enough. right when I took off I though to myself "oh shit".

I landed flat and the last thing I remember is my chest hitting my stem and my head folding over the handlebars. I remember seeing my fork compress, and then nothing (I blacked out). I don’t remember seeing anything, just hearing. someone was holding my head and a people were talking to me. I heard the word medic and then I remember hearing a medic asking me questions. he walked me down the rest of the hill asking me questions and apparently I was repeating myself. The first thing I remember seeing is my mom standing at the bottom. "uh oh" I thought. the patched me up and brought an ambulance out. Now this may make my mom sound like a crazy lady who doesn’t care about her son but that’s the exact opposite. my mom decided not to spend a billion dollars at the medical clinic. my injuries were a concussion, a sprained wrist (minor) and a bruised sternum, and there isn't anything the clinic can do for those things. It was a very very scary experience and my worst crash ever.

I woke up the next day to the greatest disappointment of my life. I couldn't ride!!! Plus I had to watch my friends ride. my mom felt bad for me so she bought me a sweet Sombrio jersey. but that didn't fix me not being able to ride. that day felt like a week sitting at the glc restaurant watching guy after guy go down and wondering to myself why I couldn't be doing that. I kept thinking this sucks so bad. I knew I wasn’t riding for the rest of the trip. this is where the obsession part comes in.

The next morning I was so mad and down knowing I wasn’t going to ride. I was doing things around the hotel and my mom noticed I was using my wrist a lot. she said something about maybe being able to ride today and a big smile spread across my face. I jumped right on it. I got my armor on and went down to the parking garage and got my bike. I could ride my bike just awesome, not perfect, but awesome. while I was doing this, my friend had no idea. I came running outside where he was waiting and saw me in my armor on my bike and was like. "what the hell are you doing?" and I said to him, "I'm riding!" the funny part is my mom told me to take it easy...riiiiight haha.

that jersey I crashed in is now bad luck. it's a black troy lee jersey and every time I wear it, I crash. I think this story shows how much I love the bike park and the drive I have to ride. it is my favorite vacation spot and I ride all day every day. thank you for reading my story. Thank you to my mom for letting me keep riding and not making me a bubble boy for the rest of my life. and thank you to the two people who helped me and called the medic. they were shocked when they found out I was only twelve haha. and your medics are life savers. thanks!

Submitted by:
Cole

Date:
Aug 23