Mike Braybrook discovers that the shortest line between two points is often the quickest way to the rst aid tent.

LAST WORD

Last month I had a pretty decent head-meets-earth incident at a race in Scotland. It happens to the best of us, but you can be the judge as to whether it knocked some sense into me or knocked out what little I had left… Like many others I’ve fully embraced the 29er as my wheel size of choice for pretty much all riding, since I can count the number of times I’ve been to a BMX or dirt jump track on one nger. What’s not to love? Better rollover, more stability, more grip, longer days, bluer skies, more Minnaarier riding; I’m sold.

Again, like a lot of my 29er-loving brethren, I’ve added a long-travel 29er to the collection, something that’s a whole dierent beast to the terrifyingly twitchy 29ers of old, where cross-country was king and slack was a rude word. My personal bike of choice, the Starling Murmur, comes with a respectably enduro amount of travel, and geometry to match; the sort of gures that will get you down most of the UK’s bumpy bits in one piece without too much drama. at being said… I’m not actually sure it’s helping my riding.

I should clarify. Yes, my riding has certainly become faster and more aggressive over the past 12 months, and yes, it could just be down to the fact that I’ve spent more time on the big bike than the others with less travel on oer, but I think there’s something more sinister at play.