The Rijksmuseum is perhaps one of my favorite buildings in the world. In it, is an amazing collection of all things Dutch history dating back 800 years. Including a biplane!
Outside, it’s a beautiful piece of architecture finished in 1885. With a sprawling plaza called the Musemplein it’s a wonderful place to casually stroll and relax.
Under it, is a cycle path that thousands of people travel daily on their bikes as a part of the Dutch government’s plan to get people outside to live happier and healthier lives saving billions in healthcare annually
Unlike Nigel Powers, I happen to really like the Dutch.
Purple Mountain Majesty
Along with much of the world we’re experiencing 100+ degree temps in Colorado right now and it’s hard not to think back to cold winter mornings such as this one. This scene came together one early morning at nearby Chautauqua Park in Boulder after a big snow in March 2021.
The day before when it was dumping snow, I noticed the following morning’s forecast was for clearing skies and I immediately checked one my favorite photography apps for some sunrise beta. Sure enough, The Photographer’s Ephemeris handy Skyfire feature was showing a good probability of a colorful sunrise. So I loaded my gear into my bag and set my alarm about an hour before sunrise hoping for a gorgeous morning and was well rewarded.
Montana
While the east has some amazing foliage and lush rolling hills, it’s hard to beat Big Sky country in the fall.
The Story of Ned
There he was. Ned. Deadly Nedly. World Champion. Gentleman Mountain Biker.
Even though mountain biking and its stars have always been approachable, I was about to nervously ask one of the world’s most accomplished mountain bikers for a huge favor. Me, about to talk to Ned Overend. Just some young kid from Indiana who needed a bike to race since some ne'er-do-well had stolen mine the previous day. So I took a breath under the warm northern Michigan sun, calmed down and managed to eek out “uhhh hey Ned”.
The story begins with my older brother, Kris, and I road tripping from southern Indiana to Traverse City, Michigan to compete in our first big mountain bike race. It was the mid 90’s, the heyday of cross country racing and our first NORBA National with names like Ned Overend, Julie Furtado and John Tomac dominating the scene. Since mountain bike culture has always, thankfully, been laid back, it was our first chance to rub elbows with the pros and have a rad time seeing how we could stack up against other racers from across the country.
Long drive complete we grab our cash and head over to race HQ so we can get registered, grab our number plates and pre-ride the course. Once we have our race numbers and the now extinct bag of free race schwag in hand we head back to the truck to grab our bikes. As we near the truck we seem to notice one less pair of handlebars sticking out above the black cab of my bro’s Ford Ranger. Oh shit.
My bike was gone. Like any other race we had driven to, we hauled our bikes in the back of my brother’s truck and didn’t give a second thought about locking our bikes to the rack. Some lessons you learn the hard way. The ironic part being the thief took the ‘wrong’ bike. Kris had a brand new carbon fiber Gary Fisher with a stealthy look that had titanium this and XTR that. A true lightweight and expensive race machine. Conversely my older steel ParkPre rig had a mishmash of parts with lots of Rastafarian anodized bling (hey it was the 90’s) so at least the universe was somewhat balanced with my bike serving as a cheaper, albeit solid decoy.
After stewing for the night and my bro graciously putting up with an ultra pissed little brother we decided to comb the pits the next day for help. Hopefully we’d find someone willing to swing me a loaner so at least I’d be able race. After hitting up a few smaller teams and coming up empty my brother needed to get warmed up for his race and wished me luck. I decide to head over to the big teams and approached the massive semi rig that was Team Specialized’s pit area. At first there didn’t seem to be anyone official around but suddenly out pops none other than Ned Overend from the team trailer. He was dressed in his race kit seemingly about to head out for a ride. I didn’t want to interrupt but I was a desperate kid with time winding down before the start of my own race.
“Uhhh hey Ned”, I said as he turned around with a smile. “I was wondering if you guys might be able to help me out as my bike was stolen yesterday and I’m hoping to still race today”.
“No way that sucks man!”, he said. “Let’s see what we can find for you!”.
I was stunned. Here I was talking to an actual hero of mine and he was about to take his personal time to help me find a bike to ride. Specialized didn’t have any spare bikes they could part with so he walked me to a few other team trucks until we found someone who could help out. When Ned Overend comes knocking people listen. We made small talk walking around the pits and I probably asked some dumb questions that I can’t recall now. It was awesome. Finally we got hooked up with the guys from Pro-Flex and I had a bike to race! So after making sure I was good to go Ned bid me adieu and went off to finish his own pre-race prep.
Ultimately I finished around mid-pack in juniors and even managed to wow the crowd on my borrowed bike over the infamous water gap double jump. After throwing down some mediocre style over the inflated rubber alligator I managed to pop something loose on the unfortunate Girvin suspension fork that adorned Pro-Flex bikes in those days. I lost some places on the way toward the finish line nursing the bike hoping I didn’t actually break it (I didn’t) but I was still having a blast. With a huge grin on my face I crossed the finish line having competed in my first big race thanks to the unselfish efforts of a World Champion.
Thanks Ned.
[a revised version of this story was published in Issue 70 of Mountain Flyer magazine, pick up a copy today!]
Ned Overend wearing the World Champion stripes - photo credit singletrackworld.com