Every bike that leaves ends up being such a cool expression of it’s new owner. We don’t make the decisions for you. We ask you how you will ride the bike, we ask what your goals for the bike are, and we let your personalize as much as you’d like. This approach keeps us passionate about every bike that we build because each bike is built for a single person. Enjoy your new bike Joel!
By now Imogene probably doesn’t need much of an intro around these parts suffice to say that we love it. It is one of the more difficult climbs we’ve ever done but also one of the most beautiful.
We left the camera rolling for a bit on our most recent ascent so we could bring home some of the feeling of what it is like to be up there.
Denver is a hub for Rodeo. Naturally as a lab we have evolved over the years, but what has remained constant is our desire for new roads, new mountains, and new friends. Many times we find ourselves on group rides with other local teams, so we decided to aggregate some of the most iconic rides in and around Denver. Our goal by creating a centralized place to find information on organized group rides that happen every week is to connect more riders and make new friends. Our team does extend out from Denver, as we become aware of planned Rodeo rallys nationally and internationally we will add these events to the calendar.
Today my Trail Donkey turned one year old. Not sure how many Donkey years that is, but it’s about 3,748.3 miles of adventures. Lots of people ask me what kind of bike the Trail Donkey is. I’m still not sure what to tell them, other than it’s a cyclocross-adventure-commuter-criterium-dirt-gravel-grinder-group-ride-fendered-fat-tire-road-racer-kind of jobby. Jack of All Trades, Master of Fun might be a better way to sum it up. Here’s what my Donkey’s First Year looked like.
Work and travel limited my holiday riding and delayed my start in 2017. Because of this, the first adventure of the new year had to be a memorable one. Riding through the Corrizo Gorge, along twenty-two miles of abandoned railway, was the perfect kick-off to the year of the Trail Donkey.
This particular stretch of the San Diego and Arizona Railroad has been dubbed “The Impossible Railroad”. Extreme temperatures, mountainous terrain, and damage caused by earthquakes and flooding make this a gnarly region. These tracks have not had a train pass in forty years, which has created the perfect location for adventure. The ride surrounds you with the beauty of wilderness, starkly contrasted by defeated machinery. An ever present reminder that the Corrizo Gorge could not be tamed.
The 2016 Dirty Kanza was probably my favorite ever achievement on a bike. The significance of the event was profound for me on many different levels. Racing against such a talented and fast group of riders was hugely intimidating and also an honor. Overcoming the setbacks of flats, dehydration, heat, and headwinds with a never-say-die mindset was deeply satisfying.
Primary photos by Ashley and Jered Gruber with supporting images by Rodeo.
The Leadville 100 MTB race almost needs no introduction, suffice to say that the legendary event slays both bike and rider with it’s enormous length, the course altitude, and the difficult Colorado terrain which it traverses.
It will never be said that the Traildonkey is the best bike to do the Leadville 100 upon. It could be said though that Rodeo is not a team or a company in search of the “Best” of anything. We’re in search of more ethereal things such as fun, the unknown, personal challenges, and trying things on the bleeding edge of insane. The world runs on good ideas, but bad ideas make life interesting.
Ten years ago, when I was newer to Colorado, I naively signed up for the Mount Evans Hill Climb. I drove the course a few weeks before the race, having no idea what I was getting into. My body betrayed me with an ill-timed cold, which doubled as a convenient reason to bail on the race.
I chalked it up to the cold, but really I was just scared – of the elevation gain, the altitude, the exposure.
Most every summer since then, as the date of Mount Evans approached, I would think really hard about lining up in Idaho Springs, but could never bring myself to do it. Timing, travel, or total lack of training always seemed to be ready excuses.
Until this year, 10 days before the race, when – thanks in part to some encouragement from the Rodeo crew – I finally peer pressured myself into signing up for the 28 mile ascent of the highest paved road in North America.
I made it to the start line this time. And tried to weather the various mental stages of such a singular challenge.