Freeride & Freestyle: When mountain biking became acrobatic

“Acrobatic sounds like the circus”

BIKE: Hans, when did mountain biking become acrobatic?

Hans Rey: I find that word a bit tricky. ‘Acrobatic’ sounds like the circus. I’d say ‘technical’ instead.

Right, what do you mean by ‘technically’?

Things that went beyond normal cycling. As far as I was concerned, trial riders were the first to get into mountain biking. Yes, I know, BMXers had been doing tricks for ages, but at first they weren’t really interested in mountain biking. They were two completely different worlds.

Yet the BMX riders were already way ahead. They were jumping, doing tabletops and showing off their style.

Yes. But they thought mountain biking was uncool. In the early nineties, the scene was all about Lycra, shaved legs and stopwatches. It was all about races, training and even more races. Fun wasn’t part of the marketing strategy.

And were trial riders more fun?

Not necessarily. But we rode over obstacles, cars, railings and rocks. It looked spectacular. When I first started out in the US, I competed on a 20-inch trial bike. The spectators were thrilled, but they thought: ‘It must be pretty easy on that odd little bike.’

How did you persuade her?

I got on a standard mountain bike and rode sideways up the side of a car. Everyone knew how difficult even a bunny hop onto the kerb was. Suddenly, what I was doing was taken seriously.

Was that really acrobatics?

That was riding technique with a show element. Trial biking had a strong influence. Trial riders were the first to demonstrate these tricks at shows. These tricks were then the first manoeuvres to be adopted by MTB riders. For example: front and back wheel hops, the bunny hop, the Statue of Liberty, rock walks (one 180 after another) and riding over obstacles. However, classic acrobatics didn’t come exclusively from trail biking, but from several sources: including BMX – and, in fact, from outside the sport as well.

The chimney sweep who pocketed 40,000 marks

What do you mean by ‘from the outside’?

That reminds me of Walter Arthofer. You said he did the first backflip on a mountain bike in 1990, but I reckon Arthofer was already doing backflips as early as 1988 or 1989.

Who was Arthofer?

An Austrian chimney sweep and professional snowboarder. He could do a backflip on his snowboard. Apart from that, he wasn’t a particularly good cyclist.

One man, one trick?

Exactly. He later learnt a few trial tricks so that his act wouldn’t consist solely of a somersault. But he was brilliant at marketing his backflip. He appeared on German TV programmes, sold advertising space on his ramps and is said to have earned up to 40,000 marks for a single somersault.

Not bad for three seconds’ work.

He turned a simple backflip into quite a spectacle. With a run-up, a speed check and all the trimmings. That’s no mean feat.

When did the somersault become popular with the general public?

By 1990 at the latest, thanks to Willy Bogner’s film Fire, Ice & Dynamite. Arthofer appeared in it performing a backflip.

And BMX?

He was there too. Diddie Schneider and Rainer Schadowski landed big tables and no-handers. On top of that, someone took off from the glacier on a paraglider and struggled to get airborne. Much of this film was well ahead of its time.

So why did it have to be a chimney sweep, of all people, to do the backflip? BMX riders had been doing it for ages, after all.

A few circus performers and BMX riders had been doing backflips for some time. But back then, BMX freestylers and mountain bikers lived in separate worlds. One group thought mountain bikes were uncool, whilst the other had little idea what was going on in the world of BMX or what was possible there.

Was there a problem with the transfer of knowledge?

Amazing. And the flow of information. No internet. You didn’t know what the others were up to. They were subcultures. When Timo Pritzel and John Cowan discovered the backflip for mountain biking in the mid-nineties, many people didn’t even realise that Walter Arthofer had done it years earlier. The trick was practically reinvented.

Why ‘No Way Rey’ didn’t freak out

Back then, you were seen as the man for the impossible. Your nickname was ‘No Way’, because you made the impossible possible, just like Danny MacAskill does today. Why did you never do a backflip?

Because trial riders couldn’t jump.

That does sound rather surprising.

But that’s how it was. We always had our weight far back. That helps in trials, but it’s the wrong technique for jumping. Most of us couldn’t even manage a decent tabletop. Go to the bike park with a classic trials rider today: their jumping style often still looks dreadful.

You could drive cars up the ramp, but you couldn't manage a clean tabletop?

Exactly. We weren’t particularly interested in jumps either. We wanted to tackle technical sections, not glide through the air as gracefully as possible.

Never tried a backflip?

Actually, it was in the late nineties. I was training with John Cowan in the foam pit. I did a few backflips there, but never with a solid landing, never on dirt.

Too dangerous?

That too. And at some point I thought: this trick isn’t so special any more that I’d have to risk everything for it. I just wasn’t a natural jumper.

Arthofer already?

No. He could really only do that one jump. But he could do it. Sometimes that’s enough to make a career. He’d mastered the sequence of movements from snowboarding.

The BMX riders are coming – late, but with a bang

When did BMX and mountain biking finally come together?

Gradually, from the early to mid-1990s. Tarek Rasouli was one of the first BMX riders to recognise the potential of mountain biking. It was almost impossible to make any money from BMX. Mountain bike magazines, on the other hand, paid high daily fees, arranged sponsorships and opened doors.

Did others want nothing to do with it?

Many BMX riders still thought the scene was a bit stuffy. Mountain biking was a professional sport, but not particularly cool.

Were there any early cross-border commuters?

Yes. BMX racers such as Eddy King, Stu Thomsen and Harry Leary switched to dual slalom and, in some cases, to downhill. It took the freestylers longer.

Until Mat Hoffman turned up?

Back in the early nineties, Mat grabbed a GT Zaskar, rode into the half-pipe and, after just a few attempts, pulled off a backflip to fakie. On a mountain bike. It clearly wasn’t a big deal to him. But it certainly was to us.

And what about Dave Voelker?

I filmed a street segment for my video with Dave in the mid-nineties Big Five. He got on my small-frame GT Zaskar and did things I’d never seen anyone do on a mountain bike before.

For example?

He’d jump a staircase gap. Or ride backwards on the front wheel down a slope. These days, moves like that are part of the repertoire of riders such as Danny MacAskill or Fabio Wibmer. Back then, they’d only just switched over from BMX.

Did you realise straight away what was happening?

Yes. Two worlds came together. Trial brought precision and balance, whilst BMX brought style and tricks. Mountain biking suddenly gained a much wider range of possibilities.

First height, then style

At the same time, freeriding emerged. What did this change?

At first, the motto was: higher, higher, higher. Riders like Josh Bender made a name for themselves with massive drops. Wade Simmons pulled off huge jumps and combined them with his technical riding style.

And what about the North Shore?

He played a major role. Those wooden ladders, narrow walkways and drops suited technically strong riders like Wade Simmons. For traditional racers, it was a world apart.

When did acrobatics first become part of freeriding?

Even the most daring daredevils realised that height alone leads to a dead end. You might jump off a gigantic drop once or twice for a film. But suddenly, the audience wanted to see that sort of thing every weekend. That was neither realistic nor healthy.

At the Rampage, too, the focus at the start was mainly on the drop height.

Yes. The first few editions still followed this principle very closely. At some point, the riders said: ‘We’d rather jump half as high and do a 360, a suicide no-hander or other tricks instead.’

Sport has swapped height of fall for style.

Exactly. Suddenly, it wasn’t automatically the rider with the biggest cliff who won. Style, control and creativity became more important. As a result, riders with a background in BMX and dirt jumping came to the fore.

Who best embodied this change?

Darren Berrecloth, known as ‘Bearclaw’. I saw him land a 360 off a high North Shore drop in Whistler. Nothing like that had ever been done before.

What was new about it?

He combined freeride and freestyle in a single jump. It marked a turning point. From then on, the drop no longer had to be forty feet high. Twenty feet was enough – provided you did something extraordinary. And Bearclaw did just that, setting the standard.

Was that the moment when mountain biking really became an acrobatic sport?

For me, yes. Trial had shown what was technically possible. BMX provided the tricks. Freeride brought the terrain and the scale. Bearclaw brought it all together. It all kicked off at the 2002 Red Bull Rampage when BMX rider Bearclaw turned up, secured a last-minute starting place and changed the sport with his runs. As a result, he landed straight on the podium. Darren Berrecloth ushered in a new era in mountain biking.

And what about you? What part did you play in this story?

My mission was to take mountain biking out of the realm of stopwatch timing. With my Extreme Cycling-I wanted to show these videos: This bike isn’t just a piece of sports equipment. It’s a toy.

BIKE played a major part in this.

Absolutely. Uli Stanciu brought me on board for the magazine. First for an interview, then for a multi-part series on riding technique. Six or eight pages were published month after month, and later this was turned into a book. Before that, hardly anyone in Europe knew who I was. Afterwards, ‘No Way Rey’ became a brand. I’d already made a name for myself in the US by then, but it was only through *BIKE* and other magazines that I really made a name for myself in Europe around 1990.

Hans Rey – unknown in Europe?

Funny, isn’t it? When I wanted to compete for Switzerland at the first World Championships in 1990 (as I’m officially Swiss), the Swiss had no idea who I was. It wasn’t until the World Championships that they realised everyone there knew me – I was also competing in the downhill and slalom events back then.

A series of journals as a career booster?

And as a selling point for sponsors. I could say: ‘Next year, I’ll get around 50 pages of editorial coverage in BIKE alone.’ An advertising page cost a fortune back then. That sort of thing gave me bargaining power.

Later, your travel diary was added.

Yes. Every month I wrote about where I’d been: a bike show in Tennessee, the World Championships in France, a photo shoot in Hawaii. It wasn’t just about riding; it was about a way of life.

So what was it, in the end, that made mountain biking an acrobatic sport: the backflip, freeriding or the marketing?

All in one. A chimney sweep performed the somersault. BMX riders pulled off the tricks. Freeriders rode the big lines. Films and magazines turned it all into images that everyone wanted to see.

And today?

These days, children do tricks during their warm-up that used to get you on the telly. Progress can be quite relentless at times.