This may be old news by now, but I’m still going to recap NZ Enduro even though the merciless march of ENDURO time has moved on to the glitz and glamour of EWS Round 1…

For those not in the know, yes, this was supposed to be a Day 3 report – But with it pissing down so hard on Day 3 that I thought I was being videoed by Putin himself, Sven & Anka and the whole NZE team made the right call and pulled the pin on the final day of racing.

Thank Fuuuuuuuck they did as well, because I had already started to go softer than a leaking breast implant when we arrived at the start of day 3 to find the weather in general had somehow managed to go Nek level over Day 2.

At some stage the seed was planted in my head that bailing was a legit option… An inception that took root pretty fast in my brain given all I could think about was what an awesome job Paul had done cleaning the bikes and what a cunt it would be to ruin his hard work.

Luckily before I verbally confessed to being a giant drenched pussy (yes, that IS a sub genre) who was about to tuck my fluffy tail between my legs Crying Game styles and run screaming from a life experience, the team called it off. Outside chance I awkwardly clapped thinking I was doing it on the inside.

To be fair, once my chance to say/blog/Gram/tweet out “Get to DA Choppa!” was gone with the birds grounded, the prospect of ‘Marlborough Death March II‘ had slightly less appeal. So, with no annihilation to speak/rant of, here’s a fucking solid video wrap up from the NZE Media team:

There is one not so insignificant detail that I have glossed over – The good news is that I no longer need to have status anxiety about being invited to the Oscars as a star, as the NZ Enduro goodie bag was so fucking epic that there isn’t anything that can compare to the mother load you hit when you arrive at NZE.

Usually race packs are absolute piles of shit, an old gel, a pile of rubbish promo papers, a T Shirt you wouldn’t wipe your balls with and perhaps an energy bar that mysteriously doesn’t refer to its ingredients. Well, NZE re-writes the book on how it rolls… Here’s what I can remember pulling out of the bag:

  • A rad T Shirt I’m actually wearing to write this post, I’ll save you the selfie
  • A Bontrager tire in the right size for your steed and one you will actually shred on
  • A pair of CG Santa Cruz grips
  • A mini pump, like fuck, a good one
  • Hat that you’ll really wear
  • Multi tool – Ubiquitous but handy
  • Santa Cruz mini medical kit
  • Custom NZ Enduro Marsh guard – A must have for Day 2 obviously
  • And a whole bunch of other good shit I am forgetting like lube… The one thing you never want to forget.

So basically you pay $350 to enter and they give you $400 worth of stuff and a free chopper ride… Lock that shit in. Did I mention the spot prizes and podium places were also rammed and over flowing with insane goodies? Clearly they had an AWESOME naming sponsor:

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I can neither confirm nor deny if I tried to steal that flag

Apparently, according to science, you lose 1 deg of temp for every 100m you climb in these weather conditions… It was 13 degs as we were milling about at the hall, so I think there were a few rad cunts quietly pleased to not be up at 1,400m right about the time prizes were being dished out. Maths indicated that would be a chilly motherfucker. Everyone here was already chilled out as it was:

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Not your usual NZ race crowd

With lunch and festivities laid on, it was time to rap with rad GC’s before the great migration began, some heading off for more rad adventures than others. I’m not a huge bus fan as some may recall, but a bus sponsored by and loaded with Santa Cruz’s? With matching Hightower colour scheme? How do you not get a little froth in your mouth about this scenario?

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“Why does the bearded dude keep trying to look in the windows? Is he someone’s dad?”

So, what a contrast to the start of DM3: Bike park vaporised in CHCH, one day of dry radness, one highly moist death march and a cancellation. You can imagine it felt slightly strange to be back in Nelson sitting on a beach thinking about sunscreen a few hours later on in the day…

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The racing prep takes on a rather chilled vibe

But with time on the hands, the only thing to do is get amongst some solid bike faffing and when you’re in Nelson, you’re spoilt for choice. I was lucky enough to get in to see the fucking Nelson Mafia bike mech Don, B-Rad. Dropping in to see him and get your bike hit with a hammer is an absolute must do when in town. Bring Panhead beer and fresh coffee to feed the machine:

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The sweet cocktail of fear, beard envy and B-Rad making love to your machine

A big thanks to the NZ Enduro team for making the right call on Day 3, no one ever wants to cancel a race, but can you imagine how cunted things would have gone if things had gone sideways in those conditions in that area? Would have made Platoon look like Sesame Street.

About to head north to EWS Round 1 in Rots, but the Nelson story telling isn’t over and little did I know it, but the BEST was yet to be unleashed as I lay about waiting in anticipation for the Mac Fucking Daddy:

Wairoa Gorge

Stay tuned for that tale to cum.

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