While less of a buzzword, Freeriding continues to make it’s mark in the world of mountain biking as folks decide for themselves what it means to them. I’m a cross-country racer, but when I take my Rocky Mountain Blizzard to Vancouver’s North Shore, or Whistler’s bike park, or Maple Ridge’s Woodlot and scare myself on slick ladder bridges, catch air, and wheelie-drop off of logs, that’s my brand of freeriding. It doesn’t matter that my bike weighs 25 pounds instead of 40 and doesn’t have disc brakes or rear suspension.

John Smoke of the Cove Bike Shop in North Vancouver agrees. He is a freerider, but he “finds the term amusing” because he’s been doing it for 21 years, long before the term was introduced. Freeriding is “all that we’re doing when we’re not racing”—an idea mountain bikers borrowed from snowboarders. “When you go out and have fun and you’re riding a bike, you’re freeriding.”

“You’re going to be jumping and doing stunts,” he adds. It’s more about adrenalin, rather than endurance. “It’s a little bit more Mountain Dew and a little less V8.” Another core element is personal challenge, rather than comparing yourself to others.

Megan Hoodspith, winner of the women’s freeride category in this year’s Squamish Test of Metal, a 67-kilometre cross-country race, defines freeriding as an “in-between” category. It’s not downhill, it’s not cross-country, it’s not BMX, it’s not trials; it’s all of those riding styles combined with one bike that does them all. A freerider can go for a cross-country ride one day, dirt jump in the evening, do shuttle runs the next morning, and ride urban that afternoon, all with the same bike. To Hoodspith, the word freeride means “variety.”

Over the past few years, the freeriding movement has gathered momentum and branched into a number of subcultures, of which “Shore-style” riding is Canada’s claim to fame. Smoke insists that in Vancouver, the style is not just a fringe sport, it’s mainstream. “I would call the rest an offshoot of the Shore.”

Both Smoke and Hoodspith see the sport’s accessibility as its most positive spinoff. It has made mountain biking open to anyone through its casual, anybody-can-do-it image. Its mass appeal is due to a combination of elements, including bike technology.

The bikes make everything easier, says Hoodspith, and that’s appealing. For $2,000, you can get a freeride full-suspension bike that is durable enough to withstand the beatings of the Shore. And “they’re getting lighter,” says Smoke.

While bikes are getting lighter, they’re also getting stronger. They need to withstand 30-foot launches, because that’s what some folks do. Then there’s the innovations such as Manitou’s 12-inch travel fork, and builders are also experimenting with carbon fibre.

The state-of-the-art technology is more for professional freeriders, of which Canada’s are among the best. Smoke gets a dreamy look when he lists off Richie Schley, Wade Simmons, Andrew Shandro, and Barb Haley, just a few of Canada’s crazies who have appeared in countless films and are competing in the newest evolution of the sport: freeriding competitions.

The first-ever true freeriding competition in North America, the Red Bull Rampage, was held last year in Utah. What made it a “real” freeride competition is that riders weren’t given a set course, but allowed free rein over a 1,500-foot descent within a 200-acre area. And speed wasn’t a factor. Competitors were judged on their skill, fluidity, and style. Simmons won the 2001 Rampage and has been a major contender in freeride events since, along with numerous other Canucks. While the main focus of freeriding may not be competition, people will always be drawn to what’s bigger, better, and faster.