Hot diggity dawg—what a great week on bikes!

I’m sitting on the flight home (or, more accurately, one of FOUR flights to get from New Zealand back to Virginia) after finishing the TransNZ Enduro, a 6-day blind enduro stage race on the South Island of New Zealand. The short version is that the race was everything I expected and so much more: epic trails, stunning views, hanging with friends new and old, and the opportunity to push myself on the bike. 

The longer version is that, thanks to the absolutely AWFUL winter conditions we’ve had in Virginia, I hadn’t ridden my enduro bike (aside from one half-day at Jarrod’s Place in early February) at all since Christmas. I was excited about the opportunity to compete in New Zealand, but I was also petrified that my riding skills wouldn’t be “enough” to get me through the week. 

With a 30-hour journey and 3 layovers between Roanoke, VA and Christchurch, New Zealand, I was also a little concerned that I or my bike wouldn’t make it, but that worry got filed under the “c’est la vie” category of “not much I can do about it.” The worry of being in over my head was far more prescient, but my coach told me, “don’t let me believe in you more than you believe in yourself,” and I resolved to go out there, stay curious, have fun, and see what happened. #hereforthevibes 

Day 0: Arrival

After landing in Christchurch and collecting my bags, I wandered out to the bus lot in search of other people who looked like mountain bikers. I eventually found them, and joined the parking lot bike-building party, as we built bikes, broke down bike bags, and loaded everything into trailers and trucks for the journey to Craigieburn. 

It was a couple of hours of driving out to Craigieburn, where we all settled into our accommodations for the next few nights, made introductions and met up with old friends, and prepared ourselves and our bikes for six days of blind enduro racing…and then tried to sleep. 

Day 1: Craigieburn

The nervous energy was real as I unloaded my bike from the shuttle that first morning and began the climb up to “The Edge.” The first trail of the day included warnings about exposure and sharp corners and scree fields, and I was pretty sure that I was going to end up walking my bike at some point. 

The reality was a bit more nuanced. I did walk my bike, but not because of any technical “feature,” but just because I (repeatedly) came through sharp, 90-degree corners, only to realize that the trail angled steeply upwards and I was in the absolute WRONG gear for climbing up a loose scree pitch. 

Beyond my general unpreparedness for climbing mid-stage, and a few moments of sliding around tight corners with sheer cliff drop-offs on the outside of the turn, I finished stage one feeling pretty good. I didn’t feel like I had ridden fast, but I had ridden (relatively) smoothly. 

After stage 1, I settled into a rhythm of climbing, taking LOTS of photos, and then trying to find some speed on the descents. I had one small crash on stage 3 (my favorite stage of the day) when I caught my rear wheel on a root branch sticking into the inside of a switchback, but otherwise, rode cleanly and finished in second place for the day. 

Day 2: More Craigieburn

Due to a long drive to Queenstown post-race, day two was a comparatively short day, with just three stages. Again, stage 3 was both my favorite stage and my nemesis, as I crashed again towards the top of the stage. According to Kathryn, who had been dropping in behind me all day, I did a full-on somersault and nearly landed back on my bike. My perspective was far more awkward and more resembled being trapped beneath my bike and struggling to get up quickly, but I’m glad she thought it looked smooth. LOL. 

Whether it was my crash (or forgetting to open my compression on stage 2), I lost some time, and finished in 3rd for the day—and moved down to 3rd place overall as well. Though Brooke, in first, was quickly pulling away, Sophie and I (in second and third) were within seconds, which made for a fun and exciting race. 

After grabbing lunch and a quick shower, we loaded onto busses and made the 8-hour trip to Queenstown. Though I was exhausted and wanted to sleep, I couldn’t stop looking at the views out the bus window—and my traveling companions kept me entertained as well, whether with comments on the landscape and New Zealand history and culture, or with animated tales of mountain bike rides there and elsewhere. 

Day 3: Coronet Peak

Just outside of Queenstown, day 3 was at Coronet Peak, where the trails became less backcountry and more bike park. The first stage especially, was wide-open, fast, DH-bike park trail and very much NOT my style. While capable of riding the trail, I found it challenging and scary to try and race blind. However, each stage from then on was more to my liking.

Stage 2 was a LONG (~13-minute) blue flow trail, which reminded me that, while I enjoy blue flow party laps, racing blue flow only emphasizes the fact that I probably need to spend more time dialing in my berm-riding skills (which are lacking). Oops. 

Stage 3 dropped us into a canyon off the back side of Coronet Peak, which then required a long pedal on the gravel road back to the top, which was quite possibly the most beautiful pedal I’ve ever done. I think I stopped more for photos than for snacks—and don’t regret it a bit. 

By time we got to stages 4 and 5, I was finally feeling like I’d found my position and flow on the enduro rig again, and was stoked on how I was riding—plus, I broke my streak of crashing, and kept it clean all day! Boosted by my endurance on the uber-long stage 2, I moved back into second place (both for the day and the overall).

Day 4: Alexandra

When I flew to Arizona in January, I never dreamed that it would be valuable preparation for racing in New Zealand, but Alexandra was a departure from the dirt we’d seen the first three days and reminded me distinctly of riding 50-Year Trail and La Milagrosa in Tucson: dry and dusty, with janky rock moves in between. 

Unfortunately, I woke up feeling super nauseous, and couldn’t manage to shake it all day, so resorted to “surviving” the transfers and channelling all of my energy into each stage—and praying I wouldn’t vomit. Somehow, I made it through—and even rode clean the entire day, despite stage 5 being probably the most technical stage of the entire race, with awkward rock moves dropping directly into steep chutes and dusty switchbacks. 

Thanks to feeling sick, I had zero energy to really push in any of the stages, but somehow managed to stay in second place, and more than anything, was just proud of riding confidently and cleanly despite feeling so awful. Somehow that felt like the real “win” of the day. 

Day 5: Cardrona

Day five was meant to be a bike park day, but unfortunately, the entire area was drenched by monsoon-like rains (and cold, especially in comparison to the extreme heat the day prior). As a result, the lifts weren’t running and respect for the trails prevented us from the originally planned 3000 meters of descending. 

Instead, we pedaled from the lodge up to the top of the lifts and did a single “peak to pub” stage, which, though I was fortunate to drop early and get far better trail conditions than riders in the back, again reminded me of my dislike for racing blue flow trails. At the same time, it was cool to be able to race from the top of the mountain all the way down into town, and the bottom few turns were some proper clay slip-and-slide, which made it fun!

With one day to go, I held onto second place and even added a few seconds to the narrow margin over third. 

Day 6: Queenstown

Queenstown might take the cake for most stunning views, although there wasn’t a day where I wasn’t slack-jawed in awe of the scenery around me. Though we only raced three stages, I loved every one of them, and was stoked to race on some wet roots and trails that felt a bit more like “home.” There were steep turns, wet roots, and some awkward jank–and my only regret was that, though I rode clean, I didn’t have the energy left to really feel like I was riding the trails “well.” I was hanging on, but too tired to really feel on top of the bike or like I was finding any flow. 

Then, after finishing the last race stage, we all took a party lap down a blue flow jump trail—at which point I yeeted myself so far past the landing of one particular kicker that I landed flat, nearly hung onto it, then caught some loose gravel on the edge of the trail, and crashed. Nothing but my pride was wounded—and, after climbing back up for a second party lap, managed to keep it at “blue flow pace” and ride a clean lap down. 

Another second place kept me in second for the overall, which, considering I came into this race with “vibes” as my only stated goal, is a result I’m proud of. 

I got to hang with old friends, made a ton of new friends, and rode some world-class trails. I put a few more coins in the confidence bank, and showed myself that I am capable of riding (and racing) on terrain that would have terrified me a few short years ago. It also reinforced my decision to lean into stage racing this year, and to do more “trans” races in the future, as the combination of trails and community are unmatched.