Fans of mountain biking will celebrate next week in Crested Butte, when Fat Tire Bike Week takes place.
June 25-30, you’ll see the latest titanium models and beat-
up townie bikes competing during the Chainless Downhill on Kebler Pass, the Clunker Criterion, a poker run, bike rodeos and relays and the Bridges of the Butte 24-hour tour.
There also will be a pig roast, an expo, family events and mountain-bike movies, and the local and International Mountain Bike Associations will host a trail care day.
This mishmash of old and new makes sense, because Crested Butte is one of the ancestral homes of mountain biking.
Back in the 1970s, bicycles in Crested Butte were “klunkers” – ancient one-speed Schwinns or their equivalent, with coaster brakes, balloon tires and wide handlebars. They were built for comfort, durability and newspaper delivery – 45 pounds of American steel.
Any steep climb meant the rider was off the seat and pushing.
Evolution of a race
Bicycle racing had arrived in Colorado with the Red Zinger Bicycle Classic, which started in 1975 and morphed into the Coors Classic in 1979, the year that the film “Breaking Away” captured people’s imaginations.
But fancy road bikes, with their skinny tires, drop handlebars and delicate Campagnolo components, were impractical on the local dirt roads and, in any event, way too frou-frou for Crested Butte.
In this setting, the first Pearl Pass bike tour happened in 1976. It was an act of one-upmanship. A group of guys on motorcycles showed up in Crested Butte, claiming to have crossed the 12,700-foot pass from Aspen. They raised a ruckus at the Grubstake Bar & Grill. This peeved the locals, some of whom decided to avenge the slight by making the trip on bicycles.
Even then, the contrast between laid-back, beat-up Crested Butte and celebrity-studded Aspen was keenly felt.
A story from the Crested Butte Pilot describes the first Pearl Pass bike tour.
Fifteen riders set off from the Grubstake. Seven actually made it to the overnight campsite, where they were joined by the dropouts, some groupies and a guy with a broken leg, Richard Ullery, who rode in a padded bathtub in the back of some other guy’s pickup.
They enjoyed a steak fry and, according to the Pilot, “one keg of beer, three bottles of schnapps, two gallons of wine and three bottles of champagne.”
The next morning, amazing as it may seem, a few intrepid souls rode 3 miles of switchbacks to the top. Then the whole group made the teeth- rattling descent off the pass, through the ghost town of Ashcroft and into Aspen, where they lorded their achievement over the locals at the Hotel Jerome.
Meanwhile, in northern California, groups of off-road riders in Cupertino and Marin County had started to tinker with their bikes, in search of something with the durability and stability of a balloon-tire Schwinn tank, yet better able to manage Bay Area hills.
California influence
There was a race in Marin County called the Repack. Riders pushed their klunkers up and freewheeled down a steep, 2-mile mountain road full of switchbacks, rocks, pitfalls and landmarks with names like Breeze’s Tree and Vendetti’s Face.
It was called the Repack because after a couple of runs, your coaster brakes would get so hot that the grease on the hub would vaporize and you’d have to repack it. Good times.
It was inevitable, even in the primitive days when people communicated through land line telephones, the U.S. mail and articles in Bicycling and Velo-News, that the two bastions of mountain biking innovation would learn about each other.
Five California riders showed up for the third running of the Pearl Pass tour, in 1978. In contrast to the local klunkers, the Californians were riding handcrafted machines made of thin-wall chrome-moly tubing, with 12-speed shifters and front and rear center-pull brakes.
The locals scoffed until one of their number got a flat. Said the Pilot: “The California boys immediately jackknifed into action. Tools selected after years of experience glimmered in the sunlight as the intrepid Californians removed the wheel, replaced the tube, tuned the spokes, remounted the wheel, slacked the cones a tad, adjusted the chain and had the bike back on the road in 35 seconds flat.
“If there was any doubt before, the local riders hereafter realized that they were not dealing with amateurs.”
The Californians were also able to ride the 10 miles to the campsite while their Crested Butte counterparts walked, pushing 45 pounds of Schwinn. After the race, participant Ullery, broken leg healed, told the paper that he intended to acquire “different brakes and maybe some gears.”
A different world
The world was changing.
You can read all about the sport’s history at the Mountain Bike Hall of Fame, located in the Crested Butte Mountain Heritage Museum on Elk Avenue. Vintage bikes and bike components, pictures and press clippings about the evolution of mountain biking are on display.
But who wants to hang around inside when the sun is shining, the wildflowers are blooming and the last of the snow is melting on the high mountain trails?
During Fat Tire Bike Week, guided rides will take you there.
Even a sea-level rookie can enjoy the short trails around Crested Butte. And everybody, whether pedaling a Schwinn tank or Brodie’s top-of-the-line, powder blue $3,099 Marathon Odin all-mountain ride, can enjoy a cold Fat Tire ale afterward.
The details
Fat Tire Bike Week is June 25-30 in Crested Butte. Visit or call 800-545-4505.
The Mountain Bike Hall of Fame is located in the Crested Butte Mountain Heritage Museum, 331 Elk Ave., Crested Butte. Info:
mtnbikehalloffame.com, 970-349-6817.
For information about Gunnison County and Crested Butte and lodging reservations in the area, visit or call 800-814-7988.
