Suspension is just not something I’ve ever felt that I needed, so this is my first bike since owning a 1995 Pro-Flex 855 that has had suspension, and needless to say it’s a completely different box of frogs. I set the suspension up to the letter of the manual for my weight and rode it for a month or so like that to get used to it. Having never hyper bike owned a proper bike with suspension and only having ridden one in anger a handful of times, I had very little to compare it to, but I do feel like 160 mm of travel on the front and 155 mm at the back are beyond my riding for sure. Overall, I increasingly rode a fairly niche bike relative to my location for normal stuff and having a great time.
I received the Sagma Lite version of their saddle without suspension, which was pretty comfortable. It was more padded than anything I’ve ridden for a long time and quite a bit shorter, as I’ve been riding mostly road-derived saddles forever, and I expect the Sagma Lite to be a little more enduro-focused. Obviously, the oversized 35-mm clamp diameter adds significant stiffness more efficiently than it adds strength, but it’s also designed internally to be super strong, which adds further stiffness. I’m not sure how it’s possible to feel the stiffness of a set of handlebars with 160 mm of suspension travel and a big squishy Schwalbe Wicked Will up front, but somehow, it is. On most bikes, the sensation would be unpleasant, but with all that movement going on below, eating anything the trail has to throw at you, the steel-beam-like stiffness feels quite confidence-inspiring and keeps the steering feeling agile and reactive.
So I would ask them to define “good bike,” because the meaning of that can vary greatly from person to person. The Ice Pack is a stripped-down yet full-featured technical winter pack. With availability in 40L, 55L, and 70L volumes, it is all-purpose with low-profile crampon and easy-access ice tool carry systems making it great for alpine climbing, water ice, or multi-day winter mountaineering. Designed specifically for on-trail backpacking, the Unbound prioritizes mobile storage and accessibility for the hiker on the go. I’m not sure I know any cyclists or even bike people who could reasonably ride the SRD without having fun. It’s like having a weird friend who your parents accept through familiarity over time, who’s low-key and effortless to hang out with, but who also goads you to climb lamp posts, snort wasabi in the cinema, and get thrown out of the club for dancing too weird on a night out.
I was overbiking for sure, but simultaneously, I was pushing myself to ride new things rather than pushing my fitness as I’d expected. The lack of anything fun to ride locally and my deep desire to ride the bike all the time instilled a sense of being lost and bored, which seemed to always result in play. I’d cruise around looking for things to ride up, down, off, or onto. I could go out for a ride with no aim and no idea where I was going and have a great time just repeatedly trying to hop over a log or riding down a set of steps fast enough to be able to ride up again on the other side; just playing around by myself, having a nice time.
Even if I did, it changed how I ride gravel for the better. It took a while to get used to the idea that sometimes, where traction ends, the fun begins, rather than my old road cycling mindset, where traction ends is the beginning of the road to A&E. The geometry was designed around being versatile and fun, with long travel but less ultra-long and ultra-stable than an enduro bike. After a few trips out to various trail-heavy bits of woods, I just started riding it as much as possible on anything to get a feel for it and the way it moves, and in a way, it became exciting for all the right reasons. On the SRD, I could pretty much ride anything that exists locally, which I hadn’t experienced before.
In addition to accurate and impartial news reporting, and compelling, original storytelling, his interests include camping in all climates and conditions, track cycling and bikepacking, all forms of fitness, the resplendent majesty of coffee, and sports of every kind. In my case, much of my daily riding happens on commuter/hybrid bikes. Recently, thanks to bikes like the Priority 600 All Road, I am starting to also look at adventure bikes. If you want to ride trails, you’ll likely need to spend around $200 plus to get something a light trail won’t instantly beat down. And make sure it has a threadless headset and a derailleur with a replaceable hanger. But on a mountain bike, weight can really drag down the enjoyment.
This might mean that I have never owned a mountain bike because a mountain bike, in modern times, is so separate from the uncomplicated machines of the ’90s that I grew up riding. The mountain bikes that I have owned have mostly functioned as off-road tourers. Most notably, a 1998 Specialized Rockhopper (on balance, perhaps the best bike ever made), a Rock Lobster Team Tig 853, a first-generation Surly Krampus, and a slew of other bits and bobs I made myself. I have a great local bike shop, and I shop there regularly. It’s always a good idea to seek out a good bike shop, even if you own a big-box bike.
The SRD came with the classic Acto5 mountain cranks, nice and short in 165—because this bike has all the gears—and long cranks are for flat-earthers. Looking at a component in isolation, I really prefer the performance of SRAM electronic shifting, especially in wet, grimy conditions, but some people prefer mechanical shifting, and those people prefer Shimano. hyper mountain bike Looking at buying a $600 mech, I love the idea that individual parts of the mech can be replaced if they get damaged, that it will run with almost any shifter, and that I can swap the cage out to run short or long so it can be used on more or less any bike. The frame is made from custom butted and bent 4130 tubes and cast parts manufactured in Taiwan.
It’s a little lighter but a lot stiffer and easier to adjust than the original lever, and the one from Oak significantly improves the braking feel in my books, although that is sort of a matter of taste. To start with, I marginally overinflated the shock, but that didn’t feel quite right, so after some research and chats with Chris and Joergan over at Sour, I added some spacers to make it feel a little more progressive, which felt suitable for the kind of riding I was doing. The SRD was my first experience living with an INGRID drivetrain, which differs from running one.