The Godfather of Freeride's Garage Secrets on Vancouver's North Shore

Jennifer Miller · 2026-09-21

There's something about a garage that tells you everything about the person who owns it. Some garages smell like fresh paint and neatly organized toolboxes. Others smell like gasoline and lawnmowers. But Wade Simmons' garage? It smells like chain lube, fresh tires, and mountain biking history. An old Rocky Mountain frame leans between two work stands. His motocross bike sits next to a pair of skis and boxes overflowing with spare parts. The workbench is buried under what looks like a thousand bolts. Only Wade knows where they all belong. We're hunting for an 8mm Allen key when he waves us toward the bench. "Just help yourself," he says. This is a place where, for decades, people haven't just fixed bikes. They've dreamed up ideas, swapped stories, and planned their next adventures. ### The Morning Ritual That Never Gets Old Wade is to Rocky Mountain what maple syrup is to Canada. The "Godfather of Freeride" is also the social glue that holds the entire North Shore riding scene together. But more than anything, he's just a genuinely down-to-earth guy with zero airs or graces. After crashing at his place following yesterday's ride, there's an early knock at the door the next morning. The morning crew starts rolling in. Margus Riga, the photographer, arrives with his camera. Eric Lawrence (Lornny) shows up next. Then Ken, Lyle, and Tom, Rocky Mountain's product managers, file in. These are the kind of people who spend their mornings analyzing geometry charts and their afternoons thrashing test bikes through the dirt. We do one last tire pressure check. Someone adds two clicks of rebound damping. Another is hunting for his helmet. Meanwhile, Wade is watering the garden. Luna, his dog, wanders casually between the bikes as if she's seen hundreds of mornings just like this one. Nobody mentions when we're actually leaving. Yet fifteen minutes later, everyone is clipped in and ready to roll. Just another Friday on the North Shore. Tools rattle. Pedals go on. A track pump hisses off a valve in the corner. Somewhere, someone's still hunting for a helmet. A few moments later, the driveway is empty and the crew has disappeared into the maze of cedar trees, rock slabs, and wooden bridges. ### Welcome to the North Shore: Where Mountain Biking Is Still a Community Vancouver has two faces. The Pacific Ocean sits right on its doorstep, while mountains rise behind the city. In between, ferries cross the water, skyscrapers reflect in the harbor, and one of the densest rainforests we've ever ridden begins. People here head out for a post-work ride in places others travel halfway around the world to tick off their bucket list. Few places blur the line between city life and wilderness quite so effortlessly. The tarmac ends. The moss takes over. The Rocky Mountains lie hundreds of miles to the east. But Rocky Mountain Bicycles was born right here, in the basement of a bike shop in Vancouver. Three friends, Grayson Bain, Jacob Heilbron, and Sam Mak, started modifying their road bikes in the late 1970s with wider tires, flat handlebars, and tougher components to tackle the North Shore trails. In 1981, that project became a brand of its own. Legend has it that Bain came up with the name while looking out of an airplane window at the snow-covered peaks of western Canada. More than four decades later, Rocky Mountain has become a true icon, surviving turbulent times and even insolvency before turning the page under new ownership. One thing, however, has never changed: the North Shore is not only the brand's birthplace, but to this day it remains the ultimate proving ground for their bikes. ### Beer Tastes Better on Fallen Logs Towering western red cedars rise like cathedral columns into the sky. The trails here aren't just paths through the woods. They're living history. Every rock slab, every wooden bridge, every root section tells a story of riders who came before. And after a long ride, there's nothing better than cracking open a cold one while sitting on a fallen log, surrounded by friends who get it. > "The North Shore isn't just where mountain biking happened. It's where it keeps happening, every single day, with the same crew and the same passion." That's the thing about this place. It's not about the latest gear or the biggest jumps. It's about the people. It's about mornings that start with watering the garden and end with muddy smiles. It's about a community that's been riding together for decades and still can't wait for the next Friday. So next time you're in Vancouver, skip the tourist traps. Head to the North Shore. You might just find yourself in Wade's garage, hunting for an Allen key and planning your next adventure.