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Wheels in Motion
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For Whistler’s Spokeswomen, mountain biking is part fitness, part finesse — with a dash of steel nerve thrown in for good measure
By Julia McKinnell  Nathalie Grether is a former corporate lawyer but you would never guess from the story she’s telling or her dusty baggy bike shorts, sunglasses, and clay-covered riding shoes. The mandatory wearing of pantyhose during her last job was, in fact, a major motive for abandoning the career. She is far more at home this way, and her new clients — five novice female mountain bikers — are lapping up the details of her latest imbroglio. (Heretofore to be referred to as Grether versus Black Bear.) Grether swears her account is the whole truth, and in her version of events, she is flying down one of Whistler/Blackcomb’s twisted, root-obstructed bike trails. (The famous ski resort converts to a downhill mountain bike park in summer. Bikers, like skiers, ride chairlifts to the tops of the runs.)
So there was Grether flying over roots and rocks, careening embankments when suddenly, around a bend, her front tire hit fur. Wham! She was on the ground. Did not see it coming! Pepper spray? Who’s got time? There was swearing and cursing. Her one-woman barrage worked. The bear sat dumbstruck giving Grether a chance to scramble to her bike and get the heck out.
This is the new age of mountain biking — not to be confused with the so-called mountain biking of 10 years ago when riders peddled city streets on tires slightly fatter than a 10-speed’s. Today’s mountain bikers sweat it out on real mountain terrain with course names like Mount 7 Psychosis in Golden, B.C.
Bear encounters are commonplace. Head to toe equipment is de rigueur. Stand in a lift line at the mountain base sometime, and you’ll feel like you’ve landed in the costume department of a Star Wars movie. Riders look like mud-wrestling Darth Vaders encased in dirt-caked protective armour that covers chest, shoulders, legs, wrists and head. In spite of the protection, however, the injuries are staggering. This is one tough new sport for which Whistler has responded by doubling its Health Care Centre medical team.
Dr. Adam Kendall is one of the new sports emergency doctors. Between the dates of July 18, 2003, and August 14, 2003 — a total of 28 days — Whistler’s emergency room treated an average flow of 66 injuries a day. “A large proportion from the bike park,” Dr. Kendall says.
Of the total 1,874 injuries in 28 days, the centre treated 598 broken bones and 381 wounds.
“It gets really busy here on the weekends,” Dr. Kendall says. “We see a lot of head injuries and concussions even with the helmet because the impact of the ground causes a brain shake.”
Broken backs and compression fractures are equally abundant, says Dr. Kendall.
“The skill level is increasing,” he explains. “The equipment’s gotten better and therefore [there are] bigger obstacles and therefore if mistakes are made, it has bigger results.”
But to think: head injuries, broken backs. It’s the kind of tough sports talk you associate with football or boxing, men’s sports, really, and yet the popularity of mountain biking with women has been such that people like Whistler’s Sally Carmichael and Nathalie Grether are making a living teaching and coaching amateur women how to ride.
“Spokeswomen” is the name of Sally Carmichael’s three-day all-female mountain bike camp. The camp convenes in Whistler each summer, and runs at regular intervals starting in April. Since its inception, Spokeswomen has coached more than 750 women from beginner to hardcore expert.
At last year’s April camp, more American women attended than Canadian. The word is spreading. Debbie Lundy took time off from her job at Microsoft in Seattle, Wash., to attend.
“Seeing other women tough it out is encouraging,” she says. Lundy particularly likes how the women’s camp reduces the usual level of competition she might encounter with a group of men. She liked not having to worry about “keeping up.” The camp allowed her to focus on her skills, she says.
At camp orientation the first night, riders meet and greet and get fitted with rental equipment. The staff tune the bikes and make seat and height adjustments. The women introduce themselves and chat about why they’ve come.
“The reason I love it is that you get exercise and you get a thrill,” says Lauren Gehlen, originally from Oakland, Calif., but now living in Whistler with her boyfriend. Gehlen, a novice rider, remembers the first time she tried to ride over a log. She ended up flipping over the handle bars. “Just ride over it,” her boyfriend told her. “With men,” she says, “sometimes they think the tougher they are on you is the way to get you to do something.”
The following day at Spokeswomen, Gehlen’s group approached a log. “So of course I thought I’ll flip over because that’s what I did before,” she says. In fact, not a single rider in Gehlen’s group was prepared to traverse the log. But Lauren’s instructor provided the key. “Lift up the handle bars.”
“I had to put my faith in her,” says Gehlen of the instructor. At which point Gehlen took the lead in her group, took a run at the log, and flew up and over without faltering. The rest of the group followed.
Traversing logs, arduous uphill climbs, tight turns on steep switchbacks … “By Sunday night,” says Kim Goodman, from Teton Valley, Idaho, “I could barely move my arms. I felt like the instructors had beaten me without me noticing.” Still, she says, “The camp helped me out tons. The greatest lesson, and still my greatest challenge, is looking ahead. It’s amazing how looking where you’re going really helps direct the bike.”
But what about the danger? Do women break bones as often as men?
“Yes, definitely,” says Dr. Kendall.
But the women of Spokeswomen will not be deterred. Says Lauren Gehlen after a long and happy summer of riding, “I’ve learned that falling off is not as bad as I thought it might be.”
Julia McKinnell is a freelance writer living in Whistler, B.C.
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