Tall Tales is a collection of our favourite crazy bike-related stories from our favourite riders, racers and industry legends.
Everyone has that story that they wait until the end of the night to pull out when the anecdotal oneupmanship starts to get into the final round. Tall Tales is a collection of our favourite bike-related stories from the best in the business.
We kick of the Tall Tales series with a subject that, inevitably, every storytelling will come to eventually and that is… You guessed it, poo.
We have Crankworx’s comms manager Julia Montague to thank for this nugget of solid gold.
Julia (left) makes up 50% of the Crankworx comms duo. Photo by Clint Trahan.Do nerves sometimes get the better of you? Because they do me. And one time, my pre-ride nerves almost got the better of Sterling Lorence.
This tall tale starts in the Whistler Valley…
If you’ve been to Whistler in the past few years, you’ve likely heard of Lord of the Squirrels. This alpine trail rises over 1300+ metres from the valley to the top of Mt Sproatt. Trailforks suggests the ride takes between 3-8 hours. Viewpoints pepper the up, a welcome respite on this long-ass climb. At the top: winding craggy singletrack, turquoise alpine ponds, fields of wildflowers, and a whole lot of descent.
It’s both a mission, and a magical experience. And it made me nervous.
My planned ascent was not only going to be my biggest day in the saddle to date, I was doing it on a photo shoot.
When originally asked if I was interested, the Marketing Manager for the brand sold me on it when she said it was going to be shot by none other than Sterling freaking Lorence.
No question, I was in.
Photo by Sterling Lorence.
Alongside me, the “talent” included my colleague Jimmi and his friend Jeremy, Georgia Astle and her boyfriend Trevor Burke. All very skilled riders.
Let me be clear: I am a good rider. But very much a recreational one. I started mountain biking at 29 and have dedicated myself to progressing over the past few years, especially after moving to Whistler at 32.
The first days of the shoot went well – I did my best to keep up and keep a smile on my face through wind, rain and frozen extremities. The photos would be released to promote new products the following spring, so the crew scurried around the trails clearing away colourful dead leaves. We rode in t-shirts, covering up with warm, dry-ish layers in between shots.
As the weather worsened, the call was made to postpone the next day’s shoot, reconvening the day after for our final shebang: Lord of the Squirrels.
So, I took a day off of the bike…a day that also happened to be my birthday. My mom made me homemade indian food and my friends surprised me with a chocolate cake from my favourite bakery. It was grand.
September 10 dawned, and I woke up determined, but tense.
Would I be able to make it to the top? Would I be able to hold my own?
I did my best to silence the impostor syndrome and focus on putting one foot in front of the other. First stop: caffeine.
My normal routine includes morning coffee and breakfast before leaving the house. That reliably gets things moving for the day, if you know what I mean… But today, the tension and nerves had settled in my gut. The indian food and cake wasn’t going anywhere.
Photo by Euan Camlin.
As the group convened, I whispered to Jimmi and Jeremy on the side: “Ummm, I’m probably going to have to stop at some point to, ummm, go.” They teased me and we had a good giggle. I felt better at least feeling like I’d lightened my mental load. The three of us got a head start.
It was a beautiful morning. The clouds had lifted, rays of sun peeking through the old growth, moss sparkling with dew. We kept a good pace and I started to ease into the ride. I was doing it!
About two hours in, it hit me. We were approaching a little clearing, so I hollered to the boys that it was “go time,” and disappeared into the bushes. Hidden from view, I did what needed to be done, carefully arranging some rocks to hide my “offering.” That business taken care of, and ⅔ of the climb done, I felt like I could finally relax. I sat next to Jeremy to take in the view. A few minutes later, the rest of the crew caught up.
“Hang tight there, this is a great shot,” Sterling shouted, hopping off his bike.
He took a few steps back to widen the angle. Clicked away. And then he took a few more.
“That’s great, just look off into the distance there.”
I watched him step back further into the brush, as if in slow motion. In that moment, Jimmi and my eyes locked. Mine, struck with panic. An unspoken knowing passed between us.
Famed mountain bike photographer Sterling Lorence was about to step in my shit.
“Errr, Sterling,” Jimmi piped up slyly. “You might want to be careful where you step there.”
“Oh yeah?” Sterling stopped in his tracks, lowered his camera and looked at us with a glint of mischief and understanding in his eye. “Did someone leave a little dookie?”
I turned beet red as Jimmi and Jeremy turned to me, the three of us dissolving into a fit of giggles. It was pretty obvious to all who the offending dookie belonged to, but no more was said about it.
Because hey, dookie happens.
We finished our ride, got some great shots, had some more laughs, and descended at sunset. And with that, my 34th year was off to the races with a big ascent under my belt and a new nickname that’s stuck me to like, well, shit.
