The Radavist

Roll With It in the South
Photos and words by Brian Vernor

There’s a shocking casualness to the hallucinatory contradiction of culture that is The South. I’d seen this place in great detail as a child, often visiting family throughout Tennessee and Alabama. Though I grew up in Santa Cruz, and went to college in California, I wanted to reconnect with The South in that awkward period of life right after college, before I could say “I want to do _____ with my life.” In 1998 I had finished school, got heavily into nothing, and spent seven months playing with cameras in Santa Cruz, enough time to forget what my degree was in.

Yeah, technically I live in Los Angeles, yet this time of year, with all my travel, a duffel bag feels more like home. So when I do find myself at my home address, I like to get out on the bike as much as possible, with camera en tow. Earlier this week, I asked Kyle if he wanted to do a ride. Initially I was thinking of riding up Hwy 2 on a road ride, but that quickly evolved into a bigger undertaking.

Mt Lowe has been the subject of many rides here on the Radavist and rightfully so. It’s a doozie of a climb, much shorter than any other route up to Mt. Wilson’s 5,712′ peak and consequently, much, much steeper. The kind of steep where even MTB gearing is quickly bottomed out and your legs burn with each rotation as you climb in a series of necessary zig zags along the broken paved roadway. Eventually, the grade levels out once it turns to dirt, but for the beginning 6 miles or so of this climb, you’re in a dark, painful place.

No matter how many times I’ve ascended Lowe, I’m always humbled by it. Not necessarily through some suffer-induced form of personal gratitude, but through taking in the majestic views the San Gabriel mountains have to offer. These dry and arid peaks have been getting some rain this winter, resulting in a bloom unlike anything I’ve witnessed in Los Angeles. Every plant is a full-on pollen factory as it blooms with life after living for years, parched by the unforgiving sun. Plants weren’t the only thing sated on this ride. It’s exactly the warm welcome I was hoping for.

Once Kyle and I exited Mt. Lowe we headed up to the top of Mt. Wilson before heading back down Mt. Wilson Toll Road, a road I’ve only heard of. Here’s where it got fun, especially on my Crema 27.5 x 2.2″ machine. I railed everything, hit all the water boards with speed as they booted me into the air and further down the trail, only slowing up to roost a corner and wait for Kyle, who was having a slight mechanical issue.

We railed the dirt and surfed the somewhat sticky sand, stopping for photos, or appreciating the nuances that exist in a mountain range that is in a constant state of erosion.

As the sun fell, we descended back to the city of 10 million people, where fish burritos and coconut water awaited us, and where Max greeted us with a wagging tail… The route provided 55 miles and around 6,500′. All within the city of Los Angeles.

With a title like that, there isn’t much more to the story, yet there is so much more to the story.

Press camps are fun. Bike launches are fun, yet Maxxis wanted to try something a little different in their recent Appalachian Summit. With the popularity of their tires and only a few new models on the horizon, this “launch” was more of an immersion. Not so much into their product but into the dirt and riding that inspires all their tires, from gravel to downhill, the mountains of Northern Georgia are in Maxxis‘ back yard. PR&D for new tires begins and ends in these mountains. The team of designers conceive of a pattern that would excel in a certain condition, then the product designers work on the tread pattern, samples are made, athletes are seeded these samples, feedback comes in and before too long, a new tire emerges from the already plump lineup. This is all pretty standard for most component companies and honestly, is interesting but the purpose of this press camp was far deeper than that.

Look. The South doesn’t get a whole lotta love. Maybe it’s the wayward political system, or the fact that it’s perceived to be flat. The Appalachian mountains are some of the oldest in the USA, meaning after millions of years of erosion, aren’t as high as the Western US’s offerings but don’t be mistaken. There’s a lotta elevation change happening below the Mason Dixon line.

Traversing the Peruvian Cordillera Blanca
Photos and words by Ryan Wilson

For a little over a year it was just a pipe dream. I had come across the Cordillera Blanca while sifting through google maps one day and was immediately struck by its rugged and unique landscape. For a few months I kept looking back, doing a little more research, and eventually making a few routes. It was always just wishful thinking though. I had never even left the country before and I knew about as little Spanish as you could possibly know. It wasn’t “realistic”, so I just kept the idea floating around in the back of my head…

Barcelona, at least as far as I’m concerned, is Los Angeles’ European sister city. Not so much in terms of its urbanism, or gracious public plazas, or the seemingly lack of vehicular congestion, but in terms of the riding. Mediterranean climates make for photogenic trails and even in the winter months, this city is a joy to ride in. When we arrived in Barcelona, I had no idea what to expect. Mattia from Legor Cicli and Ken from ENVE told us (meaning myself and photographer Jeff Curtis, who came along to document the trip for ENVE) we’d be riding dirt roads and trails all within the city limits.

The Maximum is Not the Optimum: Kelly and Mal in New Zealand
Words by Kelly Nowels, photos by Kelly and Mallory Nowels

“The maximum is not the optimum.” My buddy Chip likes to quote this Fabien Barel interview where the French downhill world champ waxes poetic about racing and life. Of course it’s all over my head, I mean this guy is a world champion, but it got me thinking and wanting to explore how optimum applies to bike touring.

Mal and I have been drooling at the thought of a New Zealand trip for years. With winter approaching and knowing that we weren’t getting any younger (we totally are though), we started saving our vacation days and our pennies to make it happen.

Spencer Harding is true rad atavist. He’s always touring on his tallbike, or packrafting the LA river, and finding unique or interesting people to photograph. For the past few weeks, he’s been in Los Angeles, working on photo projects and riding extensively. For whatever reason, he and I yet to connect. It seems that while our paths were concurrent, they weren’t yet converging. Until last week when a text message ended with finite plans to ride.

Initially, we were going to ride Sunset Ridge, a ripping descent but I wanted to ride something a bit harder and more cross-country. Ty had already annihilated Chilao the day before, so we chose Strawberry Peak and its exposed singletrack.

For whatever reason, I thought Spencer always had a Surly ICT. I’d seen his tires before with their plump 4″ width, but never actually realized it was a Motobecane. You know, the BikesDirect.com in house model that seems awfully similar to Surly, down to the dropouts. We were joking as I was shooting photos: “that’s the most stock, cheap bike to ever be featured on the Radavist!” My mind raced to think of another example, yet came back empty after running through the database. Yes, this is a damn stock bike, save for the bell and Brooks saddle, but as Spencer has proven time and time again, it’s not the bike that makes the ride. This one’s all about the abeausage…

Enjoy these photos of some of Los Angeles’ most beautiful trails and give Spencer a follow on Instagram!

Usually by the second day on a trip like the Rally Aysén Patagonia, your legs begin to feel all the climbing and hiking. For me, my back pain from carrying camera gear almost always adds to the pain. Not even the previous two day’s beauty, or the loud and obnoxious birds, nor the mooing cows could persuade me into leaving my tent. Needless to say, my usual rise-and-shining at 5:30am was pushed back a few hours on the morning of day 03.

You can’t throw a press launch in Patagonia without a solid plan and you can’t throw a race in Patagonia without experienced organization. The Rally of Aysén began as an idea, born in the offices of Santa Cruz Bicycles, some 10,446km away from Coyhaique, where the event would take place.

The idea was simple: in a time where enduro is hyped up, bring a rally format, multi-day event to the Aysén region of Chile, where mountain biking is in its infancy. The event would include timed climbs, timed cross-country, timed descents and downhill segments. It’d be a true battle of the most well-rounded riders and was not for anyone afraid of a bit of navigation or pushwacking…

Graduating Skid University on Fallen Angel Island
Words by Erik Nohlin, photos by Erik Nohlin and Dylan Buffington

Fallen Angel Island is a Bay Area gem tucked away in a hard to get to corner of northern bay just of the Tiburon shore. In fact, it’s not hard to get to but getting one the seven official camp spots is way harder than just jumping on the ferry to get there.

Fallen Angel Island is a stealth campers paradise but with a locust like ranger infested entrance and exit point with the ferry, it’s difficult, almost impossible to enter the island unnoticed and not being asked for a permit when you first enter the dock. Our friend Nick from Pedal Inn had booked the best site on the island about 6 months in advance so we didn’t have to act like we weren’t going to glamp the shit out of campsite 4 with our first time SF visitor from The Warhead Courier Copenhagen chapter – The legendary Simon Busk.

May These Quiet Hills Bring Peace
Words by Erik Nohlin, photos by Lucas Winzenburg.

“May these quiet hills bring peace to the souls of those who are seeking.”



These were Sada Coe’s words when she donated the ranch and surrounding land she inherited from her father, Henry W. Coe, to the people of California in 1953. She formed a deep understanding of our human need for wild places while growing up on the grassy hills around Pine Ridge Ranch. Five years after taking ownership of the ranch, Sada decided to give her property to Santa Clara County as a wilderness retreat, open to everyone. Sada’s spirit is the reason why the public now has unlimited access to the beautiful wilderness area today known as Henry W. Coe State Park.



The city of 10,000,000 people have mountains that reach over 10,000′ that begin about 10 miles from town. In these mountains, when the temperature and pressure drop, sometimes we get snow. Usually just a light dusting, but enough to make the caps look white in the distance as you pedal or drive up Highway 2.

As previous experiences have proven, this snow is sometimes ridable, sticking mostly to the plants and rock outcroppings, while leaving the trails tacky and the corners smooth.

That was our thoughts on Saturday evening as Kyle and I planned a Sunday morning venture into the Angeles National Forest: ridable trails.

Big Bender
Words by Ty Hathaway, photos by Ty Hathaway and Jesse Scarantino.

Jesse and I had spoken of this trip before but never really had a set date or year or season or route, just thought it would be cool to do. So when he said, “I think I am going to go next week,” not only was I in the position to say yes, it is also sort of against my best interest to say no to Jesse- every trip we do, no matter how big or small, is always pure gold. You don’t just say no to that kind of stuff. It’s not too often I get along with people so well that we can do basically any trip and come out on the other side still psyched to be around one another. I decided it would be easier logistically for me to just say fuck it and drive to Big Bend State Park rather than fly to Austin, build a bike, and still have to drive to Big Bend. The idea of driving all that way on my own was very attractive at the moment- all that freedom, all that time to myself- but damn, I could really use this.

Los Angeles is warm and sunny all the time. Los Angeles is not warm and sunny all the time. Both statements are half-truths, the problem is one half can swing against your favor in an instant. That instant being when you head into the Angeles National Forest, chasing sunsets. Ted King is an east coaster. Granted, he’s raced all over the world but his home is the east coast. So when he made a trip out to California recently, he was surprised at how warm it was in the city. I warned him though, once we start climbing up into the mountains, it’ll be freezing. Guess what? It was cold. We were cold. Then the sun set and it was even colder. Luckily, warmth was just around that last bend coming back down Highway 2.

Enough environment… Our agenda was pretty clear and it should be obvious to you all: shoot photos of Ted to announce his new partnership with Velocio, an apparel company specializing in high-tech, race-fit apparel without super flashy graphics and gimmicks. You see, once you retire from professional cycling, you can’t just walk away from the sport. Ted loves to ride bikes and he wants to partner with like-minded companies who make products that he wants to use full-time. Assignments aside, I was just stoked to spend some time with Ted and show him some local rides. His bike was really dialed, his attitude, even more and don’t let Ted fool ya, he’s still fast as ever. Or maybe it was just my 30lb camera bag causing me to lag behind. Yeah, that’s it…

Velocio has an in-depth feature on Ted at their site, which you are more than welcomed to go read. In fact, you should because yes, while it is marketing, it’s true-to-form, real life Ted King. Head to Velocio to check it out and see more photos in the Gallery.

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Follow Ted on Instagram and follow Velocio on Instagram.

Bikepacking with BMXers on Cross Bikes in the Santa Cruz Mountains
Photos by Brian Barnhart, words by Brian Barnhart, Bill Arlew, and Sam Pederson

Introduction by Brian Barnhart

As much as I love bikepacking, I just don’t do it enough. Living in Santa Cruz, it is so easy to surf, BMX, hike or mountain bike, and then spend the night at home. I can’t complain about the accessibility. But when I got a group text about scheduling a long weekend of bikepacking, I was in! The group got narrowed down to two guys I had never met, but I knew we would bond over the experience.

After some planning and a few bike mods, the morning came to pedal into the mountains. The three of us got acquainted sharing singletrack and fire roads, and discussing our packing setups along the way. Billy and Sam had an exciting route planned, now it was time to put it to the test. Three days of riding and two nights of camping in Castle Rock State Park and Butano State Park respectively.

Our bikes and packs created a bond within our group, and also with folks that we talked to along the way. We shared an enthusiasm for being in the middle of nowhere, pedaling our way in and finding our way out. The recently drenched forest was alive with newts, banana slugs, and vegetation, and at night a campfire gave it warmth. We challenged our bodies and were rewarded with endless views and mysterious fog topped mountains. The descents flew by at exhilarating rates, full attention given to every bump, rock, tree, angle and edge. And the flat terrain provided a time to relax and appreciate it all.

We rode hard, and sometimes walked hard when the grade got too steep. We came out better riders and more prepared for next trip. We found that feeling we all crave when we are off our bikes. It happens when the conditions are just right, and our brains narrow our thoughts down to what is happening right now. For us it was climbing steep hills then bombing down the other side through redwoods, chalky bluffs, open meadows, and coastal roadways. Being cold and wet, then warming up as the time and miles passed. Stimulated by scenic overload, quiet of deep forest, and the scent of untouched wilderness we smiled all the way home.