the boy from ayawaso bikes freely again! ch. 2 - rewilding with wetheuntamed
"adventure biking forest death"
was one of the first things I googled after moving to Vancouver. I don't remember what motivated this morbidly specific search. Just that I was restless. Maybe I was looking for a challenge. Maybe I was looking to feel something. Looking back, I have a hunch it was very much a todestrieb.
I scrolled past countless videos of crazy stunts and gnarly accidents—didn't need to see those. Something about the raw challenge in those few photos was enough. That's how I found ColourTheTrails' (CTT) Intro to Mountain Biking workshop.
initiation
I still remember my first time down that Bob Sled roll! "Eiii, who sent me here?" I laughed nervously, heart racing so loud it muffled the encouraging "you can do it!"s from below. Despite my fear responses, I let go, screaming for dear life and for the sheer thrill of it the entire way down.
I couldn't get enough! And immediately signed up for CTT's MTB mentorship programme later that year, where I got matched with the impeccable Alec to ride with about the North Shore.
Back in Ghana, I was often dubbed the 'crazy one', the thrill-seeking friend who'd occasionally pull stunts (nothing too wild, I promise). I noticed early on that I thoroughly enjoyed that flavour of fun (jouissance??). You know the kind, doing uncomfortable things that feel challenging in the moment, but leave you grinning afterwards? That's what they call Type II fun, and it turns out MTB would give me plenty of it.
You can imagine my parents' reaction when I told them about my new extreme sports hobby. "Hmmm! Kwesi, hwɛ wo ho yie oo!" Haha, classic Ghanaian parent™ response—overly worried, yet understanding their lack of agency over their adult son living thousands of kilometres away.
While I fell in love with riding those trails, it was finding a sense of belonging that really warmed my soul. Back home, you'd be considered aloof for even wanting to bike down mountains. But here? I sat surrounded by riders who were wayyy more daring, taking on features that made my palms sweat (like that two-phase rock slab down John Deer).
For the first time, I felt a sharp sense of belonging among fellow thrill-seekers who weren't strangers to pushing limits, challenging oneself and enjoying the whole process.
The trails called occasionally through community rides in 2022, went quiet in 2023…but that was about to change.
2024 - the call back to the wild
After mastering rhythm and choreography on stationary bikes at SPINCO Burnaby, that erratic beat from my yearly theme suddenly pulled me in a different direction—back to the mountains!
I found Untamed Racing on Instagram one evening. It's an MTB race training guild for Enduro and Downhill racing, but really for anyone who wants to level up their riding. Seeing familiar faces in their posts (including my former mentor) sealed the deal. For someone who hadn't touched dirt in almost a year, I was about to discover just how much that SPIN training would pay off!
Before that, a word from our spons—
just kidding. But no, really, my MTB journey would not be if it weren't for the sweet deals Essential Cycles offered. For the entire training programme, they let me try out a full range of their MTBs including ones that were just shipped in.
progression and transformation
That base fitness from SPIN hit different. With each berm and corner down Hustler, my body gradually reconstructed old muscle memory, but with newfound power. Like some scene from Dragon Ball Z when they emerge from the hyperbolic time chamber, I felt transformed: same moves, but more capable, more confident.
What followed was three months of pure progression. Wednesday sessions and weekend trips became the highlight of my calendar. Each week brought new challenges: flowing through Expresso's berms on Mt. Fromme, pumping through bike skills parks, and catching air at Burke Mountain. We covered more ground in those three months than I had since first touching a mountain bike.
Trail ratings that once ruled my rides slowly became mere suggestions. Early on, green meant safe, blue meant shivers, and black…unthinkable. But during guild training, something shifted. One session at Mt. Seymour, we branched onto Dale's (a black diamond trail) and only noticed the rating after dropping in. "Wait, we're actually doing this one?" We sure did!
The climb became as meaningful as the descents. While we occasionally shuttled (on day-long rides), most meant earning our way up. That raw "adventure biking forest death" search had led me to the perfect trinity: physical exertion, forest immersion, and pure thrill. I fell in love with it all: the smell of petrichor on Fromme's loamy trails after rain, catching sunsets on the way down, and even the crows laughing at our little fumbles.
On one ride in Squamish, I found myself sitting on a log by a pond during a break, no thoughts, just vibes. Maybe that's what I was really searching for all along.
Our group rides created their own magic. Most memorable were the dust clouds at Vedder Mountain, flowing one after another through the trails on that long, sunny day. Tuti's "woohoo!" would echo ahead, mixing with excited yelps as riders pushed through challenging sections and celebrated small victories.
The team's energy was infectious: badass Jaclyn leading with unwavering confidence, Steve and Meg dropping hints between runs, and Alec gliding through trails with his signature. Ewa, other Steve, Emily, James, Nicole, David, Emma…everyone brought their own energy to the trails.
I really appreciate Steve pointing out "Kevin, you're very confident today" when we were out practising catching air. James Baldwin has this quote about love being the work of mirroring, reflecting each other's light, and I strongly believe that's what it was with WeTheUntamed. Love.
lessons from the trails
Being dynamic became everything. Each ride presents its own unique puzzle: different rocks, features, and roots under your wheels. You're constantly picking lines and shifting stances, more art than planning. Counter-steering around high-speed turns, learning to trust your bike's suspension instead of the brakes—it all feels counterintuitive until it suddenly clicks.
When you're bombing down at high speeds, presence isn't a choice. It's survival. I found myself in this paradoxical flow state: mindless yet mindful. Fully embodied in the moment while simultaneously making countless snap decisions. It's a special kind of alive, flowing down those trails. Your body just knows.
Sometimes those lessons came the hard way. I was flying down Ned's Atomic Dustbin, feeling dialed in—until I wasn't. Mid-descent on a rock face, my front tyre burst. A split second later, I was airborne. The scratches on my right arm and flank weren't the real impact though; it was the visceral understanding of risk. The more experienced riders just nodded knowingly: "Nothing you could've done there, just bad timing and chance."
That accident was oddly freeing, in ways I still can't fully articulate. It taught me something about the inherent risks of just living, the nonzero chance of things going wrong. Sure, that's obvious in theory, but it hits different when the reminder is literally etched into your body.
I walked away feeling surprisingly good. Maybe it was the Type II fun talking or the adrenaline, but when your teammates respond to "I hurt my <insert critical body part>" with knowing smiles and supportive laughter, you realise you're among people who truly get it. They understood both the risk and the joy, and somehow that made all the difference.
team and community
One of the most striking aspects of our team was its diversity. Coming from Ghana, seeing mothers absolutely shredding down technical trails was a proper culture shock. Back home, the idea of an 'elder' on a bike tackling mountain trails would raise eyebrows. Here, it raised spirits. It showed me how capability is so often just about context, about having the space to try.
And after months with WeTheUntamed, I emerged transformed and rewilded. All those skills we'd refined over the months came together: less braking (yes, Jaclyn, still working on that), pumping through features, catching air, picking lines and cornering with confidence. Among these bad-ass mountain bikers, we learned more than just technical skills. We picked up the rugged dynamism necessary for shredding those trails.
the next challenge
But the erratic beat wasn't done with me yet! I'd been so caught up in dirt, jumps and loam that I almost didn't see it creeping up on me, the impending deadline, waiting just around the corner.
The next, and final, training arc was calling from the asphalt. It was the end of July, and the Whistler GranFondo was *checks notes* five weeks away.
"Wait…I don't even have a road bike!"
