Mental health is a subject close to my heart. I've had my own battles in the past, and thankfully I sought the help, and made the changes needed to avoid the desperation that can comes as a result. For a while I was in at odds and found myself in some pretty dark places and I do know that, It is good to talk, and I do believe men especially are talking more than ever. I'm a builder and we do talk and we do listen.  When I came through my journey I trained and took all the experience I had gained and continued to work with military veterans, the wider community, and sports people to provide the tools needed to manage their challenges, so in some ways I have tried to make a difference, which is what my old friend and mentor always believes in. Make  a Difference, and what I'm sharing today on this blog surely will Make a Difference, because of the bravery of this one man to speak out. 

I've followed The Ride Companion podcast for the past four years, mostly since lockdown, and this latest episode with Rob Warner just has to be shared. Rob Warner is a legend of the Mountain Bike world. One of the greatest sports commentators of any sport, if not the greatest. His enthusiasm is wild, his passion and knowledge all infectious. He's also very funny bloke and when you watch his own Youtube Channel you'll see just why.

But, all this aside, behind this huge character lies a man who's been fighting his own battle.  To many, the name will mean nothing, but to the millions of people across the globe who ride mountain bikes, Rob Warner is our legend. A legend who lost his rightful place commentating on the Downhill and XC Racing of the World Cups, when coverage was taken over from Redbull by the Discovery Channel. A move which led to fans across the world screaming for the powers that be to 'Bring back Rob', Our sport of Downhill, our formula one, lost it's voice and tight now, it's just not the same. Thankfully we still have Crankworx and Hardline events, and Redbull TV.

This episode will touch so many people. His honesty about his recent diagnosis with Autism is both moving and inspiring. If you know of Rob Warner, have a listen. Its made me really reflect and in many aspects I completely resonate and has set me on my own path to find a few personal answers and I'm sure it will with you too.  I'm also sure that the The Ride Companion followers and the fans of Rob Warner, that include the best riders in the world, this episode will be remembered. Thanks The Ride Comapnion, thanks to Davi and Olly, the presenters and thanks to the bravery of Rob Warner, I reckon more men will speak out about the own health.  Take and hour or so and have a watch, or listen. Just go to yuor favourite podcast platform and follow The Ride Companion. 

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I wasn’t sure whether to post this, but I’m sure it will be fine and those who ride will be able to relate. If you’ve never picked up a shovel and spent a day digging, raking and grooming trails,  painfully dragged a few fallen trees to make way for a new line; or if you just turn up and ride, then you're really missing out on an essential element of the riding experience. I don't do much these days as we live in a land of private land, and few places to hide away and dig. Our local hill is also best kept to low impact riding so we tend not to touch whats already there. 

My limited trail building really began when I returned from travelling, surfing and working abroad in the late 90’s. I knew I wouldn't be surfing as much so I bought myself a DMR Trailstar and hit the hills, above where we grew up. Pushing up and tearing down was the order of the day and not much has changed really, I still do that now.  I was lucky to have grown up below the South Downs and had always ridden around the Steyning area, and always just enjoyed the gravity fuelled riding. I began making trails, looking at lines, moving trees, making turns and generally sessioning a few areas. I was working part-time as a College lecturer and was really riding on my own. During the days when I wasn't teaching. I’d head up day after day building a little, only to find my work destroyed by walkers the next day. I’d put them back, and ride again, I wouldn’t give in but it was pretty soul destroying.  The same problem exists in so many places today, but where I was building all those years ago, there now lies a whole network of legal trails under the local scheme with the permission of the landowner and managed by volunteers. Now, when I return to Sussex to see the family, I ride there as soon as I get home.

When I left to travel overseas in ‘97 we’d just closed the doors of our BMX shop. The unit was taken over by DMR/Upgrade Bikes, who were originally set up in the back room of the shop, and  after 27 years later they're a global brand. I jumped on a plane to OZ, leaving bikes behind for a couple of years but when I returned, the riders who had been our loyal customers at the shop, and had helped us build some pretty standard jumps, had become seriously great riders, team managers for DMR, and  even better trail builders than I could imagine. 

They had a mini digger on hand, a pile of shovels, water supply on tap, and a corner of a field out of sight of anyone. Underneath the South Downs, the boys who we'd watch grow into great riders had built the field of dreams and after two years of travelling and surfing, I rode those trails as much as I could.

I’m sure if you’ve ridden a set of trails, stoked and buzzing after a clean run,  you might feel in awe of the creation you’ve just ridden. The hard work, the effort, blood, sweat and dedication,  and the fact that trail riding and dirt jumping has played a major role in developing some seriously stylish and smooth riders. I remember leaving the country and seeing these local lads committed to riding bikes,  and on my return they just blew my mind. 

Building Trails whether gravity focussed or dirt jumping, is a skill to be admired. If you have never pondered on the fact that ‘trails don’t build themselves’, then maybe it’s time to take a moment and ask what made you smile when you reached the bottom.  What made you and your mates scream with stoke as you follow each other down the hillside, mountain or bike park. Who built that trail, who are they, why do they build trails? Trail building and maintenance can be a thankless task, but one that is often necessary for many reasons other that just to satisfy our simple needs. 

Some trails need little work, they are just naturally super fun, like those forged by walkers, with rocky gulleys where the water has run, or paths scattered with sharp granite edges that have scraped many a leather walking boot, and the enemy of even the best double down enduro tyre . Spend a few moments watching the Zermatt round of the Enduro World Series in 2019 or 2020 and you’ll see riders on natural walking trails. In Italy and Spain, many trails are built around the old trading routes that would head up and over the mountain passes, both rocky and narrow, the riders carefully choosing the better lines. These trails have two things in common with purpose built mountain bike trails, they follow the contours of the landscape, and whether walking or riding, they offer overwhelming feelings of positive well-being.

On my local hill here in Cornwall the trails we ride are built by horse power, literally.  Home to five Dartmoor ponies, who spend their days grazing with views of the Ocean and West Penwith, the Wild West of Cornwall. At a height of only 625 feet above sea level,  the ponies have found the paths up and down through the gorse, the ferns and the brambles. In the summer when the fern is high and bright green, the trails are hard to spot, but fun to ride; In the autumn and winter the opportunities present themselves, the fern has begun to die and fall back to the ground to begin its journey into LOAM. There may be a little gentle clearing to be done, but we've never found a need to cut or dig, maybe the occasional ‘bramble redirection strategy’, but we just need to find a line and ride the trail in. The ponies might climb around a granite boulder, but add this into the run and you have a perfect drop.  I suppose my point is that it’s important to ride what you have, and what presents itself. Local trails are a perfect place to develop and progress, don’t get all caught up in always needing to ride the best spots, or the biggest mountains. We have about four great trails, not more than 40 seconds long but all natural, and these trails are a great place to practise and develop skills like braking, and line choice. It’s our own little gravity training ground, and working with the environment that we have, these local trails can be full of positive energy and flow,  and flow equals happiness. 

It's also amazing now that alongside the development of bike parks, Trail Building is a legitimate employment opportunity. Those that are skilled and have a vision, are being paid to create lines down the side of mountains or hillsides. Some build trails for personal reasons, it provides respite and escapism and when they get to share their creation with others, they gain a sense of pride and achievement. Trail Building means so much to so many, it’s such a personal pursuit when we look closely. 

Sam Bowell is the Manager of Rogate Bike Park in West Sussex. The trails frequently shown on YouTube with various top riders like Brendon Fairclough, Olly Wilkins and Bernard Kerr, all riding there as much as possible and home of the DMR line built by Sam. 

I met Sam at the Freedom Ride in 2020, just after lockdown had eased in July, and this was the first real day where the park had opened and friends could ride together. Sam was stoked, as the Freedom Ride was the brainchild of himself, Davi Burkes and Olly Wilkins, and was a celebration of riding with friends again. I got to speak with Sam, as he’s a rider, a coach of ten years and a trail builder. Sam spoke so eloquently about his role as a full-time Trail Builder. 

“I see it as Land Management, it's mapping the Landscape”, and as he went on I was already hooked listening to Sam. “It’s Organic Architecture”, he continued.  There it was, a chapter title right there when I eventually get to finish my book. Organic Architecture was such a beautiful way of wording the pursuit of trail building. His passion was so evident I spent twenty minutes smiling, and listening to Sam speak of ‘Growing Art’ or facilitating riders enjoyment, by asking the trail "what angle is lying to you?"  He often thinks he has Autism or OCD, seeing things within the landscape. “Riding teaches you to look at the big picture, considering the next thing, with a desire to be better, getting in a zone and being proud of what has been created".

I completely understood this ‘What angle is lying to you?’ I’d found this at home on our trails. Following the pony trails, looking for options to veer off, through the fern or utilising a tight turn to get to the next granite drop. You ride it but the turn just doesn’t work, there is no flow, just a flow stopper. So yes, angles do lie. It takes time and hard work, but the positive side for Sam is that his mental well-being takes a boost when he creates legitimate trails, adding legitimacy to being a trail builder. When family or friends ask him what he does, he replies “I’m a trail builder”. When questioned further he adds “this is what I do, it’s Land Management”. 

But, before these trail building heroes reap the rewards of riding a trail they have built, at times they have found themselves digging, carving, shaping and sweating for their own personal well-being.  At times trail Building has become a saviour to what might have been a dark future.

Whether riding or creating natural enduro style trails, or purpose built bike park features, the landscape plays the key role in what it will allow you to develop. Build properly, get permission and consider other riders abilities too. Trail building is about giving back to the community, so respecting the trail, the trail builder, and showing thanks by showing enjoyment. Trail Building is not all fun but hard work. Rewarding yet frustrating,  an escape but also a saviour, and one day I'll post about my good friend, for whom trail building is a really personal journey, one that  literally saved him. 

Volunteering is a worthy, but often thankless task, but one that is filled with reward and arguably a humbling experience. Depending on where and how you decide to volunteer your time can provide such a positive transformation in your own self, that it is often the positive change that you may need. Volunteers freely give their time to benefit another person, but also develop personal skills, intended to promote goodness or improve human quality of life, which in turn helps the volunteer to feel happier and healthier, mentally and physically. 

Whether paid or voluntry one thing is common amongst the trail builders, it is a shared vision, a kind of generosity building for others to enjoy. I'm always humbled by the trails I ride, and take this opportunity to thank you all,  they really are “Organic Architecture”. 
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Maybe this is another instalment on the theory of never growing up, or a filthy way to end 2023 with a big splash. In my mind growing up does not mean reducing playtime, that is not an option. Bodywise, that is a different phenomenon altogether. At the middling age of 54, I’m at that age when asked 'if I’d like to ride flat out through a deep puddle and see if we can get a rad shot', I’m all in. In fact, if anyone wants to take the time and effort to take photos of an old fart riding a mountain bike down a trail, as fast my fear of consequence will allow, then who am I to argue. 

After a few laps of Grogley Woods, being lapped by endless people half my age on over-priced E-bikes, reminding me with each passing lap that I’m now riding what are apparently known as ‘analogue’ or even an ‘acoustic’ bike. Slogging our way up the fire roads, I did have that feeling of being a little lethargic after too much Christmas fare. But that said, lap after lap we dropped into another gravity-fuelled descent, dodging trees and sleeper roots, trying as hard as I could to keep up with my friends Josef and Tom. It soon became apparent that being in their early twenties, and both great riders, I would lose sight very quickly. Keeping up was a futile effort and  although I continually bolstered my smashed ego with the excuse of not riding much of late due to a previously dislocated finger,  the result of a stupid crash on my local hill. Throw in a nagging bad back, a dodgy ankle,  an aching foot and wrists,  I was understandably off-pace. I said to myself ‘Surely I’m never that slow’. I convinced myself that more time back on the bike would have me snapping at their youthful heels. Not a chance, who am I kidding, I’m 54. They both ride XC, enduro, road racing, and if it weren’t for the fact that Tom had to leave early, which took the pace of things considerably, being an absolute trail beast, I’d have been waiting for the air ambulance with spare oxygen, and a dose of performance enhancing mince pies not long after his departure. 

Grogley Woods is full-on enduro riding. It’s rough, steep and technical in places, but I love it. I actually got a podium there in 2021 in the Super Veteran 50+ category at the South West Enduro. The climbs are steady, and the wide fire roads meander back to the trail heads. Unfortunately, my idea of steady is a lot slower than two young twenty something steady. But, riding downhill, I would argue all day long that I have the same passion, the same excitement and drive to go as fast as I can, not as fast as they can, as fast I can, I do race my own race these days. I’ll absolutely enjoy it as much as anyone, and when I  reach the bottom, maybe way behind, I’ll arrive having equal amounts of stokedness (if that's even a word). At 54, I’m never going to be as fast, but I love it, and riding with these young ‘whippersnappers’ is too much fun. I would also add here that ‘Fist Bumps’ before and after a run, are a shared energy, not exclusive to the younger Gen Z, and as a firm member of the Gen X fraternity, many of us are well accustomed to the ways of the young, so never leave me hanging....Tom!!

When it comes to tapping into my inner child, the same one who used to jump his tracker bike off scaffold plank jumps, bunny hop people in the park, or ride a BMX through endless mud tracks all day, and coming home covered in muck, to the annoyance of my mother,  I’m all for keeping this feeling alive. 

I’m not ready for armchairs, pipe and slippers just yet, so I say this with all the humour I can muster, but when I get a chance to imagine myself as a professional mountain biker on a photo shoot, with a camera pointing my way, helping a friend get a few great shots in the woods, it’s an opportunity you don’t turn down. A shot of myself, trying to look like I’m OK on a bike, riding through a deep puddle of brown water, as deep as my hubs, knowing I’m getting soaked and covered in filth, and trying to add as much style as I have in my limited bag of style, again, I’m all in. Over and over, lap after lap, one shot after another, I love it. 

I know Josef gets amazing shots. As a semi finalist in the 2023 Red Bull Illume photo contest, Young National Landscape Photographer of the Year, or even the South West Coast Path Photographer of the Year, to name a couple of accolades, Josef knows how to get a shot. In a dark monoculture woodland, with sporadic sunlight, winter browns, bright green moss, and pops of rustic ferns, there were options, but it was always going to be a tough shot. I know Josef desperately wanted the sunlight that beams through the tall pines as he showed me a shot from the previous week. In this case the highlights were going to be the puddles, the stars of the show. We’d done a few shots on a section of trail above, using a smaller puddle, but it was the final puddle on a turn that connected two parts of the trail and this was the one that counted, especially before my energy went altogether. But in situations like this my inner child will take over, and I worry about the physical implications later. 

Josef set to work with the choice of lens, the position of the fern, deciding to shoot wide or bring it in tight. I simply became the model, and did a damn fine job too, I might add. I cleaned my goggles, checked my outfit,  scrubbed some dirt off my bike, and just waited for his instruction. The truth is that both myself and Josef love doing this stuff and It's proper fun. For me, riding flatout through a puddle is just pure childish indulgence and everyone should do it. For Josef, I’m sure it’s the end result and chasing that shot in not ideal conditions that he loves and  that’s the challenge, and reckon he nailed it. 

As long as I’m riding a bike, and as long as Josef wants to get some shots, I hope we keep doing stuff like this. Maybe for now there’s no other reason than to accompany a blog post, that a handful of people might read, witha few totally sick shots. Maybe we might get an article out of it this coming year, that would be a bonus. But there’s no better reason to keep doing stuff like this. The sheer fun of it and feeling like a kid, and secretly ‘feeling like a pro’!

An Old bloke and a Dirty Puddle actually represents a lot more than riding bikes. Apart from the obvious, behind that crash helmet, and the goggles, is a bloke who represents every grey haired bloke, or women riding bikes in the woods, covered in muck, with a grin on their face, and feeling like their 12 again. These shots represent being ageless, never giving in, and continuing to do what you love for another year that passes. Go and find a puddle, ride through it over and over and get covered in mud, and while you're doing it, be mindful of the fact that, beyond any shadow of a doubt,  I bet you're smiling. 

Happy New Year everyone. I hope you enjoy my ramblings and keep the comments coming. There is so much more planned for 2024, and some really exciting plans that I’ll begin to put into place in January. For now, have an amazing New Year. 

Photos by Josef Fitzgerald Patrick
@josef_fitzgerald_patrick
​@cornwallsportsphotography
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