Life In The Loops: No Brad No Ride - Part 1

RAMPAGE!

I wish that everyone reading this could see the look of terror that immediately flushed across our faces at the US border. I’m still uncertain as to why we allowed Brad to occupy the driver’s seat during that particular leg of our journey, but I am positive that not one of us will ever let it happen again.

When the crossing guard questioned our motive for visiting the United States it appeared as a simple question. A question that upon being answered honestly would prove our innocence and carry us smoothly across the border and into the land of the free. But with a shit-eating grin worn gloriously across his face and a sinister stare that could pierce your soul, Brad took a deep breath and answered that question with perhaps just a smidge too much honesty. “RAMPAGE!”


I suppose that Brad - deep in his daydreams of the gnar that would take place in the Utah desert later that week – didn’t realize that the customs officers were completely oblivious to the mountain bike event aptly titled as the Red Bull Rampage. The haste of his reply created a small dent in our schedule, during which our vehicle was inspected for whatever items a man might use for a rampage. Eventually, our harmlessness prevailed and we continued along the road to Rampage. I realized that amongst all the uncertainties that awaited us on our journey, there was one thing I could certainly count on; Brad would keep us on our toes.




I awoke startled each morning as my motel room door was kicked open to expose Brad’s silhouette against the cold colors of an October morning sky. Sucking back a coffee and literally inhaling bags of rocket candies, he would rush us to the event site while thoroughly testing the maximum output of our rental car’s V8 engine. He never did get us a speeding ticket though, just a flat tire and a few funny looks.

Beneath all of his endearing antics, Brad continually reminded us that he is a workhorse - a human machine capable of pushing more dirt by hand in a single day’s work than most other men can aspire to in a week. During our time spent digging in the desert he gained an intimate knowledge of Kurt Sorge’s line from top to bottom and how to work with the dirt for every step along the way. It was Brad’s hard work and specific skill sets that allowed us to create Kamloops takeoffs in the Utah desert and help Kurt step to the top of the 2012 Rampage podium.



Once the dust settled on the most buck-wild mountain bike event of all time we began our journey home. Brad made me listen to his favourite death metal albums as I drove the 12 hours of American highway from Hurricane, Utah to Baker City, Oregon, where we stopped at a Pizza Hut for dinner. Brad ordered a stuffed-crust pepperoni pizza and respectfully declined eating the crust.

I lost my first game of straws and paid our bill while our waitress explained to us that a rough night of tequila shots and tattoo guns were to blame for the faded ink reading “Love Hurts” across her knuckles. A few more hours down the highway my eyes were feeling heavy and I retreated to the passenger seat. I traded in the Black Dahlia Murder and double kick drums for mellower Purity Ring beats and watched out the window as pink and orange clouds crashed into the horizon. Brad was still talking a mile a minute in my rear view mirror and I couldn’t help but wonder, where in the world did this wild son-of-a-gun come from?


Engineering the Gnar

It may sound surprising that the man I just introduced claims himself to be a hermit, but Brad really enjoys his quiet time. He lives in an old house in the woods just up the road from where the creek runs into the lake. Owls call across the water at night, bonfire flames reach beyond head height, and every star in the sky can be seen shining bright. Heavy hits fill his corner lot and the greatest trails on earth sleep between the trees in every direction of this limitless wilderness he calls home.



It is in this patch of the forest that Brad has been engineering the gnar since long before many would realize. For nearly a decade, Brad’s yard has been home to massive airs much larger than anything the hills of Kamloops could fathom. Riders often visit to witness his creations and watch in awe as he shows them the appropriate speeds and immeasurable commitments required to participate in his shenanigans. It is common that people are taken aback when they discover that Brad is able to construct the worlds most intimidating features, guinea pig them himself, and remain confident through each step of the process.


But Brad grew up in this kind of backcountry. He sends it a hundred feet deep on his sled and his snowboard. He has single handedly built bridges, fought fires for many years of his youth and survived in wild northern winters. Forty foot airs on a bicycle aren’t really that far when you consider the scope of his experience. His transition to large mountain bike airs was as seamless to him as it was sensible. Taller take offs make you go higher, and more hang-time is always a good thing. Always.


When people first realized the amplitude of the happenings in Brad’s quiet corner of the woods his creations immediately began making waves in magazines and movies. The infamous "Gnarcroft" was just one of the many notches in his belt as he became a main man behind the scenes, constructing burly lines for films like New World Disorder, Stripped, Follow Me and Strength In Numbers. And although he possessed a unique skill set that was an integral component involved in creating mind blowing visuals, it was only his building that received praise. Somehow, Brad’s aggressive and fearless riding style flew under the radar.


As it turns out, Brad never wanted to be on the big screen. He is camera shy and he would rather spend his days crushing mountains from top to bottom than picking away at sections turn by turn. Seeing his stunts and trails ridden to fame by other riders never bothered him, he just wanted to see his friends excel. A man so talented yet so modest is a rarity in this day and age, and a complete treat to be around.



From the Mountain to the Lake

Although Brad is modest of his accomplishments and skills, he is anything but modest on the trail. He is the nastiest rider I’ve ever met and I am reminded of this each time I make an effort to chase him down his trails. As we prepare to drop into the faster of the trails behind his home, I feel butterflies rising in my belly. They do not flutter with fear of the coming terrain; they flutter with anxiety for the pace I know Brad will set. He charges through the forest ahead of me as if he has been navigating this route since before the trees grew tall. His eyes clearly process things at a quicker rate as rocks and roots pass beneath my tires incomprehensibly. But I learned a long time ago that I am smart to relax and follow his tires, he knows where he is placing them and without his guidance I would certainly explode. And strange as it may seem, I feel safer that way, with my trust in his tires and my life in his hands.





I do my best to mimic Brad’s every movement on the trail. When he lifts his tire I lift mine the same and when he presses down for speed I press just as hard. But his bicycle is flying in every direction and it is often times overwhelming. His tires slash from side to side and chunks of mossy earth erupt from his destructive path. It won’t be long before he disappears from sight and leaves me to finish his trail on my own. I’ll never be able to keep up with Brad as he rallies his way from the mountain to the lake, but I know he’ll always be waiting with a high five at the bottom.



We make the short trek back to his home where a cold Pilsner is waiting to be cracked. There we stand amongst the legendary sculptures that occupy his yard and the sun tucks behind the trees. Bonfire smoke stains my sweater and Brad begins rambling on about the old days of working at the mill and pedaling an RM9 up Columbia Street.



As the night crawls in and the fire burns down, I wander my way home thinking about how lucky I am to call Brad a friend. Over the years I have come to know him well and he has taught me a fair few tricks both on and off the trails. I’ve also come to know that there is a lot more than meets the eye with Brad. He is a living legend in Kamloops but there is much more to the legend than huge jumps and swift stories.

Brad really makes riding happen for people in Kamloops.

Check in next week for Part II of No Brad No Ride.
Keep up with Dylan between columns by following him on the The Kona Cog.
Banner Images by Blake Jorgenson