Bernard Kerr taught me how to jump a MTB – and it was terrifying

If it weren’t for the cheeky grin on his face, I’d be pretty offended by Bernard Kerr’s opening statement after he watches me hit one of the tabletops in BikePark Wales’ skills area: "It wasn't terrible… it wasn't great". He’s not wrong.

After 25 years of riding, I’m still horribly uncomfortable hitting jumps. What happens if I go too deep? Or come up too short?

How do I generate enough pop to clear a gap? Can you even breathe that high up in the air?

As a kid, I wasn’t some fearless shredder, hitting sketchy pallet jumps in the street or flinging myself around the woods on a BMX.

I was quiet, careful and thought mountain biking was racing around damp fields or pedalling round Dalby Forest’s original red-graded trail centre loop.

Trips to the Alps, from the age of 16, opened my eyes to more technical riding, but we’re talking backcountry adventures on steep, nadgery goat tracks, not schralping round manmade berms and jumps in the bike parks of Morzine and Les Gets.

So, today’s the day I learn to jump, with BK – someone who’s accustomed to the huge hits of Red Bull Hardline and the Downhill World Cup circuit – as my teacher.

We’ll be starting in the new(ish) BPW skills area, stepping up to the cruisy Popty Ping blue trail and finishing on the A470 jump line. At least, that’s the plan.

Airborne origins

How have I found myself at BikePark Wales with one of the world’s best downhill racers, being coached on how to get airborne?

Well, back in November we shot a video for MBUK TV where I headed up to Scotland’s Nevis Range to ride a World Cup downhill track, and downhill bike, for the first time.

With help from the bike, I was able to hurtle over the rock gardens and through the woods, but as soon as I hit the ‘motorway’ section, I came up short.

The jumps were far bigger than I’d allow myself to try – even though our videographer Max was sending them to the moon, with his camera pack on.

In the video, I asked innocuously if anyone would like to see me learn to jump.

I was inundated with comments, plus had my eight-year-old nephew literally screaming at me to learn to jump.

So, something had to happen. Fast-forward a few months and Pivot Cycles and BK kindly stepped up to the plate.

A box-fresh Pivot Firebird enduro bike was delivered to my house, and BK and I worked out a suitable date to meet at the jumps

• Read more: I’ve finally found the upgrade to make me a better mountain biker – and it cost less than £100

I’m being a little disingenuous here. I can, technically, jump. Show me a bump in the ground, and I’ll hurtle towards it and give the handlebar a yank.

I have, in my time, even looked almost stylish as I’ve flung myself into the air, adding a little bar turn or going with my signature ‘squash the jump and look fast’ move – you’ll have seen many examples of that in the pages of MBUK over the years.

However, when there’s a gap involved or a longer leap required, I don’t have the skill to aim confidently for the landing.

As a result, I tend to shy away from groomed bike park runs or blind gaps on the trail.

My blunt-instrument approach of ‘hit it with some speed and hope’ can’t always cut the mustard, and my head knows it.

While my technique – as BK kindly pointed out – is poor, it’s the head game that holds me back.

So, surely a bit of coaching from a guy who shrugs off 80 to 90ft jumps at Hardline is the perfect solution…

Back to basics

Bernard Kerr is one of the world’s top racers – a three-time winner of Hardline (arguably the toughest downhill race out there) and a regular in the World Cup top 10.

While he has helped with coaching a few people, he’s not a qualified instructor. However, he definitely has the fundamentals of the job nailed – start small with the basics, communicate the problems and help build from there.

The jumps in BPW’s skills area are ideal for learning on. There are a couple of lines, both with two jumps, each of which has a flat top (‘tabletop’) on one side and a camel-hump gap (‘double’) on the other, so you can pick your preferred option.

I roll into the first of the tables pretty confidently – it’s not massive, I can see the landing and even a nervous flyer like me can cover that distance in the air.

With little trouble, I make the downslope, warily chuffed with myself – this doesn’t feel all that difficult.

It’s then that BK drops his bombshell. He’s almost laughing at how terrible I am at this.

I’m comforted by his comments on my speed (secretly, I’d been terrified going down the Pandora’s Rocks red tech trail as fast as I could, with him behind me), but I’d hoped he wouldn’t dismiss my jumping ability quite so vociferously.

“Okay, so what am I doing wrong?” I ask.

BK replies: “I’ll need to look at it a few more times, but there’s plenty there that needs working on.”

It seems that 25 years of building bad habits and avoiding the issue are going to play havoc today.

Bernard takes up a position next to the jumps so he can watch me from the side and work out what’s going on.

I’m asked to roll in gently, in a higher gear than before, because a lower leg speed will make me more stable as I approach the jump.

“Why are you pulling up with your right leg?” BK asks.

I look at him questioningly – I’m not. But he’s adamant that every time I go over a jump, my left foot drops and my right leg raises.

Max shows me on his camera screen, and I can’t dismiss it now. I try a few more times, consciously keeping my feet as level as I can.

But the feeling is weird, and while one in five attempts gets a more encouraging response from BK, there’s tons of inconsistency.

Back to bass-ics

Time to go right back to the fundamentals.

“Right, no pedalling into the jump,” BK says. “I don’t even want you to clear it. Just roll in, relax and keep your feet level.”

I do as he says and plop unceremoniously onto the middle of the table. There are murmurings, so I lap back up and try again. And again. And again. I’m slowly training my feet to stay level.

“What’s your favourite song, Tom?” BK asks. I think fast and splurt out: “Baddadan by Bou and Chase & Status.”

“Right, sing that as you roll into the jump – it’ll help you relax!”

Never before, and perhaps never again, has anyone rolled into BPW’s most mellow tabletop singing, “baddadan, baddadan, baddadan” to the imaginary strains of some banging drum and bass.

With time comes a little consistency, so I ask Bernard how on earth he generates so much pop.

Even when I follow him into the jump, matching his speed, he gets a lot more height than I do.

It’s all about how you use the transition and lip of the jump, apparently, so this is what we work on next.

Timing my body shift just right gets my wheels higher into the air, even if I’m still only making it halfway across the table and my feet are wavering from level to not.

I’m getting a little frustrated, although I’m doing my best to not let BK notice. Repetition isn’t my MO – I never did like school.

But it does help, and with a little more encouragement and a bit more speed, I’m back to clearing the jumps.

They say you have moments of clarity during the learning process, and right as I’m on the cusp of throwing in the towel, I get one.

I roll in, hum Baddadan to myself, pump the transition, pull just at the right time and, without thinking, look up and stare at the trees.

Shouts come from behind me as Bernard, Max and photographer Andy see me float gracefully through the air, legs level, pop popped and table cleared with ease.

It turns out that if I just look at the trees, I can clear a modestly small jump – who knew?!

Facing fears

Perhaps my biggest worry with jumps is coming up short. The last thing I need is to rearrange my face on the downslope of a gap – I’ve got a YouTube channel to present!

To show me how little of an issue it is, BK deliberately does everything wrong, rolling in too slow, failing to pop and 50-50ing the jumps.

He doesn’t eject over the front, but neither does it look like a smooth landing.

“These enduro bikes are so good these days, you can’t go wrong!” is his claim.

With a little more confidence in my skills, it’s time to make the jump up to Popty Ping.

This blue-graded trail is wide, well-surfaced and littered with berms and tables, making it ideal for beginners and shredders alike.

We navigate the first few corners in a train of four, videographer Max and snapper Andy looking for a place to set up their shots.

Close to the top, there’s a run of six or seven jumps that progress in size, finishing with a hip and then a step-up.

There’s enough variation for BK and me to get some meaningful jumps in, and it’s ideal for photos and videos.

We roll in, me in front and Bernard behind, shouting instructions: “Stay relaxed!”, “Feet level, Tom!”, “Keep looking up”. Meanwhile, Baddadan rolls around my head.

My first run isn’t great – I clear the jumps, but not cleanly, and I’m still lifting my feet. I’m thinking about the process too much and can’t quite put all the pieces into place.

There’s also a bit of self-induced pressure, from having BK right behind me. With each run, though, there’s improvement, and I’m getting more whoops and encouragement, rather than critique.

The large step-up at the end is still proving hard, but on our last run before lunch, I roll in, push my heels through the preceding berm and the rear wheel breaks traction a little, eliciting a holler from BK and making me feel like an absolute hero. Confidence up, everything falls into place.

Baddadan reverberates around my head, I stare at the trees every time my Firebird goes up a lip, and it works – I’m not getting bucked, the flight through the air is smooth, the landings like butter. Have I cracked it?

Getting serious

Lunch mostly digested, we head back to the top of the hill and the start of the A470 Line, which is filled with jumps from top to bottom.

While the main line is almost exclusively tabletops, the track starts with a qualifier gap jump, which isn’t massive, but makes me stop and think. To prove how mellow it is, BK again 50-50s it.

As I line up to have a shot, an uplift van arrives and a load of riders congregate on the start mound.

I don’t really want an audience, but when there’s Bernard Kerr, a videographer and a photographer with you, it’s hard to be inconspicuous.

Left with little choice, I clip in, pedal a few strokes, mumble “baddadan” and look at the trees.

Thankfully, BK’s tips work and I float over the top, barely feel the landing and rattle round the next berm.

Phew! I push back to the top and hit it again, to prove to myself it wasn’t a fluke. Maybe I am ready for the A470 Line…

Neither BK nor I have ridden the line before, but Max assures us it’s all tables from here on in, so we speed down, looking for the next spot to film.

What Max hasn’t mentioned is the slightly kicky rollers, which need to be doubled if ridden at speed.

Somehow, my bike rolls with the punches as I bucking-bronco over them.

Once it has left the woods, the A470 Line zig-zags down the hillside in a series of straighter runs, each of which has half-a-dozen jumps, growing ever longer, with the lowest jumps really rather big.

Although we’ve picked a day with good weather, there’s a bit of wind. I ask BK how he deals with crosswinds when hitting the jumps at races.

“You kind of have to lean into it, letting the wind push you back on line by the time you land,” he says.

This feels like a little above my pay grade. We decide that the wind is acceptable on the top set of jumps, but maybe the lower ones, where more speed and height are needed, are a little too exposed just now. This suits me down to the ground.

Bernard gives me a little pep talk, off camera. While we’ve got jobs to do – a video and feature to create, and a brand to represent – he’s genuine in his desire to help improve my jumping skills, and I don’t feel patronised at any point in the day, even though I’ve been riding mountain bikes for two-thirds of my life.

I follow him into the line to gauge the correct speed, and while he pops, I almost flop, messing up the first jump, which is more roller than table.

Then we repeat, with him behind me. I follow the same process as on Popty Ping, but instead of the trees, I stare at the A470 Line’s windsock – is it hanging low or gusting as I approach? With the sock remaining still, I’m over the first jump, then the second.

A quick pedal and I just make the third, while I come up short on the fourth.

We push carefully up the edge of the track, watching for other riders, and there’s time for another chat at the top while Max and Andy reposition and wait for the wind to calm down.

Then in we go, through the corner, eyes on the sock and then on the trees. Jump one is good, two feels better, three flows and then four disappears under my wheels.

I bump onto the top of the fifth and, with (what feels like) some style, hop off into the downslope. I’m buzzing!

Final orders

It’s time to call it a day. And, what a day it has been. In the grand scheme of things, I may not have achieved a whole lot for someone who’s been riding for so long.

Truth be told, I’ve hit bigger tables in my time, and cleared them. But as Bernard pointed out, I’ve been doing it with terrible technique.

Today was a reset, back to basics. I’ve been hitting shorter jumps, and still with no proper gaps, but I’ve come away with an arsenal of new skills that’ll enable me to build back up to the jumps I was occasionally hitting, but more often than not, backing away from.

Now, I know that if I keep my feet level, pop at the right time, hum Baddadan and stare at the trees, I can get myself over almost anything.