A weekend in Whistler, by Savannah Wishart
Before we dive in, a few shoutouts – thank you to Jeff for the opportunity to write something a little different for the site. This personal essay is all Savannah, but if you want to dive into the expert narrative, watch Jeff’s YouTube review over here.
Thank you for WORCA for maintaining the Whistler mountain bike trails.
Thank you for all the yummy electrolytes from LMNT. I’ve been a fan since day 1, because when you’ve been paleo since 2009, you probably follow everything Robb Wolf does.
And as always, thanks to Jenson USA for sponsoring much of the content at Jeff Kendall-Weed! Any purchases you make help the channel and website grow. 🌱
The Pivot Shuttle SL⚡AM: First Impressions on a Secret E-MTB
This weekend in Whistler marked a lot of firsts: my first Canadian bike trip with Jeff, my first time back on this side of the border since my solo Squamish adventure last summer, and my first time riding the brand new Pivot Shuttle SL⚡AM – not that I realized it was a top-secret embargo bike until after.
The two bike trips I joined were to the east side of the Cascades in the autumn, creating content for a Pivot Firebird and Orbea Rise review. I am admittedly still fresh to understanding the world of bikes, embargos, and the endless gear – but last autumn I was even moreso. I was simply tagging along for a ride that I knew nothing about, while two guys made “important bike videos.”
This trip was different for a variety of reasons. We are two seasons later: I am a different person, and a different rider. Canada has a special flavor of adventure. There is delicious ice cream at Alice & Brohm. And I have a little more understanding about what people want to know about when it comes to bikes, and why.
Still, the fact that we were riding two top secret embargo bikes escaped me until we wrapped up the weekend. Aren’t you supposed to wrap them in zebra print vinyl stickers?
Embargo bikes or not, the adventures had me feeling inspired to write something about the trip. What does a beginner’s perspective bring to the bike world? To whom might that be of interest?
I am never going to have more knowledge about gear specs than the pros. I won’t be able to break down how to ride better (except, perhaps, in comparing bike jump form to that of a deadlift when Jeff taught me how to jump for one of his Patreon videos). I don’t want to, quite simply because those facts and figures are a google away, and there are experts with decades more experience than I will ever have. Just as I know how hard to push myself when biking – even when zooming down behind professionals – I know the limitations of my knowledge in this arena.
Beyond facts and figures and logic, this circles back to what value we have to harness as humans in the age of AI.
Our human experience. That is what I am an expert in, and what is what AI cannot take away from us. Our intimately lived experiences in the real world, the emotional and cathartic process of reliving and writing those experiences, and the joy of our raw human monolog transforming into a dialog when we share it with others.
But I digress.
Driving back from Whistler to Bellingham, I asked Jeff exactly what I was ruminating on: where the value in my experience might lay beyond bike parts and technical moves. He helped put together a list of the moments that shone over the two days – so let’s see where that journey takes us.
Why I Skipped Whistler Bike Park (and What I Did Instead)
Friday was opening day at Whistler’s world famous bike park – the motivator for the trip. Jeff planned to ride his favorite purple Stooge (a hardtail – which, if you know anything about bikes, is not the go-to choice for a bike park) – because, well, why not? Spoiler alert: he declared that riding the Stooge made the blue trails a hell of a lot more fun.
Later on, he would compare the riding to his trusty full-suspension Firebird Pivot.
And me? A chance to tag along to a bike park that people across the globe dream about? Thanks, but no thanks. I opted instead for something quieter – a solo exploration through the Valley Trails, on the just-released Pivot Shuttle SL⚡AM.
I’ve ridden the bike park once – the first autumn I called Bellingham home, and less than 6 months into my mountain bike journey. It was fun for the unique experience it was, but it didn’t leave me drooling for more. At that point in my journey, I found it stressful. It felt like Disneyland for adults, and I don’t mean that in a positive way. No, it isn’t the riding itself that I find unpleasant, but being part of a swarming ant hill of bodies and bikes. Give me the park all to myself and I’d happily shred my way down.
The benefits of the bike park are not lost on me. I progressed quickly when I rolled up to an unknown feature because there was no other option other than forward.
Something that I’ve learned getting into the sport is that confidence is the main ingredient to success, progressions, and avoiding injury. Tell yourself you can do it, and you likely will – your bike was made for this, after all (yes, even a hardtail Stooge, apparently!).
All of that being said, the bike park was not on my weekend menu. Opening day with an onslaught of riders? Again, no thanks. Even if I got a ticket, I’d be riding alone while Jeff zoomed down A-Line at 35 miles per hour, clearing 35-foot jumps. But hey, maybe next year. It’s good to have goals!
That’s not to say that I’m opposed to solo rides – most of my rides are of that nature. But going alone on trails I don’t know at that high level of intensity sounds like something synonymous with miserable. Anyway, my day took me on an actual solo ride, where I encountered minimal humans along the way, and one friendly owl.
A TrailForks Adventure: Mapping Out My Whistler Loop
Instead, my “Choose Your Own Adventure” would take place on the Whistler Valley Trails. An area of the world I’ve never ridden, guided by TrailForks. My suggested loop, courtesy of Jeff: warm up on some blue trails, like Grand Wazoo, and then head further north for black trails, like sections of Comfortably Numb. Okay, deal. Break! See you later, hopefully in one piece.
The Pivot Shuttle SL⚡AM Power-Up Moment: A Rookie Mistake
Off I went on the Pivot SL⚡AM, immediately with two thoughts rattling around in my head:
- The Valley trails seem nothing like Galbraith, where we are so fortunate to have trails exclusively for mountain biking – both on the ups and the downs. These are… walking trails? How am I supposed to have fun on these?
- Gosh, this bike is awfully hard to pedal. Aren’t e-bikes supposed to be easy? Sure, I have been prioritizing CrossFit over biking, but that’s supposed to make me stronger, gosh darn it!
Well, about five minutes into the pedal, I looked down to press a button and realized…. Ah, you can’t just click the Pivot Shuttle SL⚡AM “On.” A rookie mistake with the eMTB – pro tip: you need two clicks to activate Eco mode. For a moment, I thought of all the possible humor that comes with being a beginner of a world of experts where these details are second nature. Ah, the innocence of the beginner’s mindset. (You’re welcome.)
And as for the shared-use recreation trails? I let go of expectations and surrendered to the experience. I reminded myself that my plan had originally been to remote work in a coffee shop, so any outdoor adventure was a treat – an unplanned exploration.
Exploring Grand Wazoo Blues
As suggested, I made my way toward Grand Wazoo via Tin Pants and Lost Lake North. The first entry point to single track began at Packard Goose, connecting to I’m Not Satisfied, and Why Johnny Can’t Read… before finally dropping into Grand Wazoo. The series of trails was fine – albeit more crosscountry than I am used to. I enjoyed a few playful wooden features. Memory took me back to a Sunshine Coast trip last summer where I was disappointed by the trails: easier than I expected based on their rating. This does seem to be a Canadian thing. Or is it a Galbraith thing?
The most important question in my head though was, “Does Jeff really think that this is the level of riding I’m at to enjoy these trails?!”
So infused with a little disenchantment, I began my pedal back up: opting for the wilder-looking Molly Hogan over the more pedestrian main lake trail. Eventually that connected to Lost Lake North and Green lake Loop (also known as the Sea to Sky trail), finally bringing me to the bottom of my next goal: “Wish You Were Here.”
Climbing Wish You Were Here: A Meatball’s Uphill Battle
At this point, I was growing tired of pulling my phone out of my pocket at every intersection; the trails around Lost Lake seemed like a bowl of spaghetti, and I was a lone meatball rolling about. I checked and rechecked that this was indeed a climbing trail – because for one, it was labeled black. Are climbing trails supposed to be black? And more importantly… The entry to the climb looked very much like the exit of a down based on how steep it was – the kind of grade a meatball will easily roll down.
Looking through TrailForks, I scoured the map for another possible entry point, but the only other option seemed to be to pedal all the way to the very beginning of the Comfortably Numb trailhead – adding distance not only to get there, but also four additional sections of the trail totaling 6 miles that looked to be mostly crosscountry terrain. Where are the downs I am used to?
For reference, my previously planned loop only consisted of 2.5 sections.
Translation: who knows how much extra time that would have taken me, and it took me right up to 6pm as it was.
Time to toughen up, I guess. The bottom says green for go, so let’s see what happens, shall we? I made an agreement with myself: assess a need for a turnaround after five minutes – which truthfully is a long time on an eMTB.
The climb progressed fine enough that I neer turned around, but it was a slog. I didn’t understand why it felt so difficult and exhausting (don’t worry, the Pivot Shuttle SL⚡AM was turned on – I kept it in Eco mode for most of the ride, but during some particularly tiring sections, I put it into second gear); but when everything is steep around you, it’s easy to lose perspective of the grade percentage of your world.
(After the adventure, I learned about the existence of “Routes” on TrailForks, and saw a variety of commentary mentioning plenty of hike-a-bike experiences. But you know what? I would much rather go into a trail with ignorance and an open mind than with an expectation to be miserable – the experience is what you choose it to be.)
The Unexpected Power of the Pivot Shuttle SL⚡AM on Technical Climbs
Throughout the climb, there were a number of moments when I was very aware that there was no way I could have done this on my analog bike (my beloved Kona Process DL 134). One part distance, and one part grade.
Being so fresh into the mountain bike world, I never really understood the appeal of an e-bike, and I’ve heard enough from people to understand that it’s cool to have a vendetta against them.
I wrote a short essay about my fresh perspective in the review about the Orbea Rise – taking the stance that E-Bikes Are Not, In Fact, the Devil Incarnate.
What I felt in this steep climb was that the motor of the Pivot SL⚡AM really helps give you that extra boost to keep climbing in the saddle, where you would otherwise have to walk. And even so, I had to push my bike up a few sections, which I naturally did without engaging “walk mode.”
Hey, you can take the analog bike away from the girl, but you can’t take away her stubborn insistence to make hard things even harder. (That, or she didn’t know about the walk mode option).
The Unexpected Wisdom of an Owl… And Sandwiches
Somewhere around two-thirds of the way up, I startled an owl out of a tree and made a note to check my animal spirit cards when I got back home. It was the second owl I stumbled across middy in the last three days. Coincidence? Can’t be.
The Wisdom of the Owl
According to The Wild Unknown Guidebook, the Owl represents abundance, clairvoyance, and treasures.
In general, they symbolize wisdom, mystery, intelligence, and protection. It’s through the Owl that you can see through the veil of deception and illusion to see what is hidden.
Though there is deeper meaning here applicable to other areas of my life, a visit from a good omen to represent wisdom just might have helped me to lean into my intuition, choosing safe lines, and coming down the mountain in one piece.
Memories are cloudy when it comes to details (hello hyperactive nervous system), but at one point I had a brief argument with myself over whether or not I should eat my GoMacro Bar or sandwich, and if so – when and where.
I have to laugh at myself because when adrenaline is running high, my hunger is far away (until it slams violently into me), and I think that I should save my snacks for when I’m actually hungry.
Another lesson from the mountains: eat before you feel like you need it. Stay on top of your fuel.
I had grandiose, romanticized dreams of eating my sandwich perched on a rock with a beautiful view of the mountains – still capped with snow, and playing hide and seek amongst low clouds. It looked like I might be somewhat close to the top of my climb, so why not wait? But I finally gave in to myself and devoured my GoMacro Bar – even if I wasn’t feeling the physical pangs of hunger quite yet, my mood was turning sour.
At a certain point, you have to let go of the dream of “what could be” and surrender to the reality of what is now. I’m talking about the hopes of gobbling down a snack with a view as a visual appetizer, but that sentiment can be applied across all other areas of life.
That’s Why I Love 12-Hour Ruck Events
A 1-2 hour workout, no matter how grueling, often fails at delivering the emotional transformation I crave; nor a three-hour bike ride. The magic is found in those moments when you’re several hours into pushing your limits, and you come face to face with your mental Hell. Only then can you face your demons and begin to crawl up to the surface again. And when you get there – men, there are few things that compare to that feeling of empowerment.
A feeling that you can similarly find when you’re 4+ hours into a ‘backcountry” bike adventure, fueled by a heft dosage of adrenaline and unknowns around every corner.
I promise – it’s good for you!
I mention this because that hunger-inspired emotional mess is often inevitable; it’s wading and pedalling through the muck that gets you there. And while inevitable, there are healthy ways to handle it (as opposed to firehosing an emotional meltdown at your trailside companion).
When you’re alone, it’s easy to practice. Because, well – you have to. What are you going to do defeated at the top of a mountain? No one is coming to save you.
So I unceremoniously broke open my GoMacro bar, savouring each bite. No view, no distractions. Remove the sensory experience of my eyes and I’ll instead focus my attention on my tastebuds. When you know that’s the only sweet treat you’ll have for the day – a day mapped with uncertainty – you enjoy the flavors and textures just a little bit longer.
Wish You Were Here, and Also Kind of Not
Feeling a smidge better, I continued up-up-up, finally arriving at my next trail intersection: where “Wish You Were Here” meets Land of Confusion.
I was only taking part of this trail as a connector to the next segment of the insanity that appears to be Comfortably Numb, but this spot on the map had piqued my curiosity. As per its name, the trail was a loop of squiggles, forming some kind of amoeba-like creature. I would soon discover that the trail fit the name quite adequately, but not before sitting on a log to finally eat my sandwich.
Journal Therapy on a Rock
To eat my sandwich and to write down the frustrations that were piling up in my head (speaking of healthy processing of emotional turbulence mid-adventure, what do people do who don’t carry a journal with them everywhere they go? Scream at clouds?)
Notes from the Trail
I’m sitting on top of a mountain, or more likely: mid-mountain. At the top of “Wish You Were Here” – which TrailForks claims to be a climbing trail, but to be frank: what a bitch. If I didn’t have an e-bike under my seat, I would have had an emotional breakdown or given up. Not out of weakness or failure, but out of a genuine uncertainty of whether or not I should even be going up that trail.
Sitting here on a rock to eat my gluten-free sandwich because hunger was amplifying from a whisper to a scream. The scream manifesting in a spiderweb of anger. It spreads like hot lava across my skin and seeps down into the cracks in my heart. I’m angry at REDACTED. (Let’s just say I had some challenges the previous week.)
I am trying my best to be present with my sandwich because when you don’t know where you are on a mountain, every bite should be savored. Eventually, it will be gone.
A grouse is drumming somewhere near. Womp, womp, womp. I suppose that’s a sound a drum makes, right? Light rain is starting to fall. There is no viewpoint here, and that is okay. Why is a view so important? Isn’t the forest enough?
I am tired of speed. We cannot keep up with AI, and no one wants to read what’s written by a soulless entity. We need humans to capture and convey the spirit of our experience. We need humans to get tired and hungry and lost, to tell the story later.
We cannot keep up. We cannot write an essay in seconds. And we shouldn’t. It isn’t about how fast you can string words together. So much of the pleasure is derived from the process of orchestrating those words into art.
On Paleo, Portability, and Packing the Perfect Bite
In a world still new to me, there are always so many lessons in a single trip. So I’ll share another with you, which is about food.
Eating paleo since 2009, sandwiches are not my expertise. They are just about as un-paleo as they come. But what are you supposed to do – fit a bowl of stew in your hip pack? Nah, sandwiches are convenient and portable. They exist for a reason: a vehicle for all of the good stuff your body actually needs. So my sandwich prepping has been a journey itself. What initially made sense was making a sandwich out of gluten-free bread and deli meat. Simple.
But when you don’t eat sandwiches on a regular basis, well… deli meat doesn’t last very long, and as it just so happens, it doesn’t freeze well either.
The solution (thanks to Jeff leading by example) is to make a tuna sandwich. Ah, a trip down memory lane to childhood: canned tuna, mayonnaise, mustard, chopped pickles, and a sprinkling of cilantro.
Voila, no more frozen deli meat drama.
Anyway, let’s pedal back to the Land of Confusion.
Land of Confusion (Clockwise, With Questions)
I hopped on the trail clockwise, and once again found myself doubting the choice of direction – even though the arrows pointed all around the loop on the map.
Debriefing with Jeff later, he described the rocky rolling landscape as terrain typically used for trials motorcycles.
The self-doubt crept in not because of insane rock rolls, steepness, and impossible features… In fact, it felt like it should be perfectly rideable terrain.
Like most trails I explored this weekend, it fit the theme:
It feels like it should be doable – not crazy steep, not full of lethal rock rolls, drops, or jumps. But still unexpectedly hard.
If it was hard on the Pivot Shuttle SL⚡AM, I couldn’t imagine how hard it would have been on my 100% human powered Kona.
My conclusion was that the trails are highly technical in a way I’ve never ridden, and they are not dangerous per se; but there is a level of skill required for optimal fun.
Chunky Slabs, Swedish Memories, and the SL⚡AM Advantage
In the Land of Confusion, I could see the potential for such fun. Especially, I thought, if the trail direction was reversed. How do I describe the terrain? Chunky is the word that comes to mind.
Rolling hills of slabs that could be a rollercoaster of joy, if only I could figure out how to pop the Pivot SL⚡AM up the chunky ledges onto the slabs. Definitely an impossibility with an analog bike, but at least partially successful with the power behind the Pivot SL⚡AM.
Needless to say, there was a fair amount of hopping on and off the bike, but it didn’t scare me away. The landscape was beautiful, reminding me of hiking trails in Sweden. The Land of Confusion is a trail I want to return to someday: with a few more skills under my belt and, perhaps, navigating the trail counter clockwise. And I’ll take the Pivot SL⚡AM, please – no analog bikes allowed here.
(Looking at routes later to see how others had connected these trails, Jeff noted that WORCA ran a race going counter-clockwise; considering that the Whistler Off Road Cycling Association stewards the mountain bike trails, they probably know what they are doing.)
Entering Comfortably Numb
There comes a point in every adventure where things begin to blur together. Transitioning out of the Land of Confusion and into my second segment of Comfortably Numb (Golden Door-Yummy Numby) was that moment.
If memory serves me correctly, this was where the forest began to be the mossy PNW wonderland that I think of, complete with the bright yellow flowers of skunk cabbage decorating swamps.
The crosscountry style of trail continued, but with a little more technical skill than the earlier blues. I was ready for some downhill time, and in my eagerness I somehow found myself off trail right before I should have intersected with the final segment of Comfortably Numb: Foreplay Descent.
Descent into the Unknown: Foreplay Descent
Four hours into the adventure, I was finally dropping into the descent. 3.7 km of wet roots, rocks, rock gardens, ladder bridges… Here I come!
Again, memories became a blur at this point. Fatigue alchemized into a need to simply survive and make it down the mountain in one piece. I don’t remember specifics of features and rolls – only that they existed and I rolled through them without a second thought.
It was probably around two-thirds of the way down that I stopped for another pause. I had noticed in my peripherals that all of the features I went through had ride-arounds, but I was too focused on the path ahead of me to really take note. That is, until this moment when I veered down to the right of a large rock. Another rock slab feature?
I thought for a moment before pausing – do I really need to prove something to myself? It’s almost 6 hours into the ride. Is it smart? Is it safe? Do I have my wits attached to me?
I trekked up the boulder and looked down – long, steep, and hard. Had the slab been back on Galbraith, I don’t think I would have done it. But at this point, I had zoomed through plenty of similar rolls leading up to this point. But as is my usual way of doing things, I decided to sit for a moment and do a bit more journaling – coming back to my breath, letting my heart rate slow, and calming my nervous system.
Plus, the Pivot Shuttle SL⚡AM looked pretty neat laid across the apex of the roll, if I do say so myself.
How to Break Down a Technical Feature on the Trail
After a short journaling session, I decided that I was tackling the slab. At least, most of it. I rolled up to the top entry twice, and got nervous about the angles needed to make it successful. It was easy enough to start a couple feet down on a shelf, and that’s what I did.
Talking with Jeff later, he reflected back the strategy of dissecting a feature – like a rock roll – from the bottom, up. Don’t feel comfortable doing the full length of something? Start in the middle (if it’s safe).
Crushing My Longest Rock Slab Ever (Thanks, Pivot SL⚡AM)
And… success! With my energy waning and the vortex in my stomach expanding, I was ready to be off the mountain to hear about Jeff’s stories from the bike park – but I paused to appreciate the accomplishment of what was probably the longest, steepest slab of my life before continuing down.
Finally meandering off the mountain and back down to the Valley trails, I raced back to the parking lot, beating Jeff to the van by approximately 60 seconds – guaranteed to be the only time I’ll be able to say that!
With a hearty dinner, we headed off to camp (where we found an abandoned flower bouquet) and chatted into our day’s experiences – so uniquely different. Jeff emphasized a big part of our different riding was that his day at the bike park was “you and the traffic”, whereas mine was “you and the trail.”
Recapitulating the day’s adventure in my mind, I didn’t set out on this ride for miles, metrics, or medals. I went to listen to my own rhythm, challenge myself, and remember that strength doesn’t always come with speed. Sometimes it comes with stopping for owls, trusting the unknown, and laughing at yourself when you forget to turn the bike on.
This wasn’t a bike test. It was a self-trust test. And in that way, the Pivot Shuttle SL⚡AM – and Whistler – delivered.
The Trail to Self-Love Runs on Dirt and Grit
As I build Bellingham’s first ruck club and continue guiding women through The Sophrosyne Journey, I am constantly reminded at how essential these offbeat, solo, soul-stirring moments are to maintaining your sense of self, infused with unshakeable empowerment. The ride wasn’t just about testing a bike (especially considering I didn’t know that’s what I was doing at the time). It was a mirror to my own strength, and a reflection of how far I have come in being a more confident rider. You don’t have to be riding at a high level to belong in the world of mountain biking. You just have to show up with curiosity and grit.
If you love this kind of bike “review,” please let me know in the comments!
This is only day one of the weekend, after all. If the votes are in, I’ll share a recap of day 2, trying (and failing) to keep up with Jeff on Duncan’s (It’s Business Time) – another challenging day, but this time featuring a fall down a rock roll.
Thanks again to Jenson USA for sponsoring the writing and videos at JKW! Anything you purchase through the website helps support the projects and gives us room to grow! 🌱
Peace, love, & grit
– Savannah ♥️
2 comments
Savannah’s review/essay was filled with many of the thoughts that make me hesitate to face challenges, whether it’s biking or other parts of life. It’s nice to know that if I see a biker on a trail, they may not be the experts I perceive–I don’t have to jump into the ‘deep end,’ but I can get in and swim. Maybe run back and forth through a mud puddle 5 or 6 times, THEN go riding!
Empowerment is… the Trailforks ap? EXCELLENT article, Savannah! And love the great photos!!! That was a fun little trip- let’s do it again soon!