Butterflies And Bees
The Very XC focused Ibis Exie is no more. Meet the new Ripley SL. Almost as light. A little slacker, a touch longer, a skosh more travel. Still hecho en Pajaro. Still very, very fast.
When Ibis released the “made almost in town” Exie a few years ago, the brand tilted at some formidable windmills. Here was a domestically made carbon fiber frame, intended as a competitive World Cup caliber XC race bike, but instead of employing the reductive flex-stay logic of everyone else to compete in that arena Ibis opted to lay up the Exie up with dw-Link rear suspension. The muttering of the naysayers was easily audible above the bubbling current that Ibis was busy swimming against, but that didn’t stop Jenny Rissveds from racking up a World Cup win aboard the Exie at the season opener in 2022; her first race back after a three-year sabbatical.
Point proven, time marches on. Jenny is racing for Canyon now, and the Exie has been put out to pasture. In its place – still meticulously made just down the road from Ibis’ Santa Cruz headquarters in Pajaro, California, still sporting dw-Link suspension and Igus bushings in the lower pivot, boasting a feathery light frame weight of 5lb with shock – is the new Ripley SL.
The dust probably adds a few hundred grams, but the Ripley SL is liiiiiight. And fasssst.
Even at that gossamer weight, there’s an integrated frame storage compartment (dubbed STOW by Ibis – Snacks, Tools, Or Whatever). It has more travel in the rear than the ex-Exie: 117 mm. It can be built up “XC race sharp” around a 120mm fork, but is offered with a 130mm-travel fork in all the various build options available from Ibis. With a 130mm fork, the head angle is 66 degrees, and the effective seat angle varies between 74.25 and 75.25 degrees depending on frame size. There are five sizes of frame available, ranging from Small to XL, with a convenient eXtra Medium size in between the M and L options. Frame-only pricing is 4500US, including a Fox Factory Float SL rear shock. Complete builds start at 7000US.
I have been hankering to ride this thing ever since it was a rumor. I wanted to ride an Exie before that, because I am enamored of XC bikes in spite of their very narrow focus, and I wanted to see how a multi-link rear suspension built to the same uncompromising goal of “Going Really Fast While Weighing Almost Nothing” stacked up against the dominant flex-stay paradigm. But the Ripley SL, nodding as it does to broader trail riding potential while still cleaving to the original GRFWWAN design brief, now that’s a real siren song for my hairy old ears.
So, I borrowed an XM Ripley SL from the Ibis demo center right after Sea Otter and smuggled it back to Colorado. Since it was a demo bike, I didn’t get too much say in how it was dressed. And, in this instance, the clothing is ostentatious. Full Shimano XTR Di2 drivetrain and brakes (4-piston, 180mm rotors). Fox Factory 34 Grip SL fork. Industry9 Hydra hubs and Ibis S28 carbon rims. Continental 2.4 Dubnital rear/Magnotal front tires. Bike Yoke Revive dropper, WTB ti-railed Silverado, Ibis house brand BLKBRD bars and stem. Bougie. Hella Bougie. Knocking on the door with $11000 in its pocket bougie.
Some interesting geometry here…
Ibis took some extra steps in order to build a bike that would offer similar ride characteristics across the size range; chainstays grow in 2mm increments per size, from 432mm on the small to 440mm on the XL. Similarly, the seat angle ratchets a quarter degree steeper per size from small to XL, from 74.25 to 75.25 degrees, in each size measured at a different specific height. BB height also rises by between 3 and 4mm per size, from 329mm on the small to 342 on the XL. The XM that I rode had a 74.5 degree seat angle, 436mm chainstays, 463mm reach, 335mm bb height, and a 1201mm wheelbase. This dance of numbers netted a bike that is a hair steeper in the head angle and a touch slacker in the seat angle than the contemporary longer-travel trail bikes I’ve been mashing around on, and a couple of inches shorter between the axles. I’m 177cm tall, and usually ride a large.
Beyond the absence of mass and the very intentionally thought-out geometry, the Ripley SL shows an impressive attention to detail throughout. The slight curvaceousness of the Exie has been replaced by a more angular look. A long belly section in front of the bottom bracket creates room inside the front triangle for two bottle cages on all but the small size frame. Ibis states that they’ll only hold 22oz bottles, but I was able to stuff a 26oz bottle into the lower mount and still have room for a 22oz up top. The STOW door fits flush and cleanly, operates with a simple lever. Cable ports at the head tube are tiny and unobtrusive, leading into internal sleeves that did a solid job of quelling any rattles. The rear brake hose routing along the chainstay serves to not only guide the hose but also protect it from damage without the acknowledged pain-in-the-assery of having to route the hose inside the swingarm. Rubber padding is glued in place under the downtube, along the drive-side chainstay and up the seatstay, and there’s a rubber loam flap to deter crud from building up or trying to infiltrate the lower link.
The suspension links are par for the course in Ibis design language. Igus bushings at the lower link, bearings at the upper. Ibis stands solidly behind the decision to use bushings at the lower link, noting that the amount of actual rotation on the lower dw-Link is minimal – less than 20 degrees – and is better served by a bushing than a bearing as a result. Average service interval for the bushings, per Ibis, is about 5000 miles, or two seasons of muddy downhill. For the skeptics, Ibis will replace lower link bushings for free for original owners.
“Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.
His hands can’t hit what his eyes can’t see.
Now you see me, now you don’t.
George thinks he will, but I know he won’t.”
This rhyme was freestyled into existence by Muhammed Ali prior to his 1974 fight against George Foreman – The Rumble In The Jungle. It went on to become something of a catchy metaphor, trotted out when people were struggling to come up with the right combination of words to describe that elusive combination of speed and power, lightning and thunder. As such, it would get applied to anything relatively light and sharp, like rear engine German sports cars or Italian motorcycles, and the world forgot that the man who uttered those words was perhaps the greatest heavyweight boxer of all time. Floating and stinging, with respect to a 6’3” tall man who weighed 213 pounds when he riffed that line, is relative.
Nevertheless, I found myself thinking about the notion of floating and stinging a whole lot while riding the Ripley SL. It is light. Really light. A hair under 25 pounds on my bathroom scale with sealant in the tires, pedals on the cranks, two bottle cages on the frame, empty bag inside the STOW compartment, this is about as light as it gets when considering trail bikes. It would be easy to shave another pound or two with tire and wheel choices and be solidly in the dedicated XC racebike hunt. And it is fast. Stomp on the pedals, jump forward. Instant response. Ibis intentionally ramped up the anti-squat numbers on the Ripley SL compared to the Exie, because the Exie was intended to be used in conjunction with a lockout and the Ripley SL is intended to be throttled wide open without any lockout or platform assists. As such, it is incredibly responsive to power inputs. I was wondering if the added sophistication of a linkage suspension, especially one that was central to the whole idea of “hoverbike” tractability, would make the Ripley SL feel more muted, less rewarding, than the usual flex-stay suspects when it came time to mash the pedals and levitate upward. Not to worry. The Ripley gets after it with the same kinetic urgency that makes the flex-stay crowd so much fun to chase uphill. The “sting” part of the Ali rhyme is delivered in spades.
Ignore the fat guy having trouble breathing. The Ripley SL climbs real well. The thinner the air, the better it goes.
As for “float”, well, that’s a mixed bag. For all the stated positioning of the Ripley SL as a “race bred and trail fed” fun machine, the sharp edge of the racer is not very well disguised. Sure, this is a trail bike for riders who like to go fast, but it still has very sharp teeth and would be an exceptional no-holds barred race bike. Let’s not forget that. It would be, can be, is, a great choice for a race bike. It is also “more” than a race bike, just like the copy on the web page alludes to. Thing is, when we are talking about a 5lb frame with 117mm of rear wheel travel and an appetite for going uphill that makes cardiologists nervous, ‘more” has some limitations.
This paragraph here is about the Ripley SL, but it also applies to every other insanely light weight, ultra-responsive, short travel bike out there. You can have a ton of fun ripping these bikes on trails. In the case of the Ripley, the handling is just the right mix of carving manners and responsiveness to be a whole pile of fun in any sort of green/blue trail scenario. It is so light and so telepathically easy handling that some recalibration of rider input might be needed for riders coming off heavier barges. It can be stomped up risers and yeeted up over just about any size or shape obstacle with almost comical ease. It’s a blast. It’s fun. There’s a little more tractability and a little more give than the numbers would suggest. It’s not twitchy. It’s not sketchy. But it would be a stretch to call it planted or super stable. And sooner or later, as those blue trails turn black then double black, you will outride the suspension, and the tires, and maybe even the chassis.
In this case, the tires were the first to cry Uncle…
Where I live, I am faced with an embarrassment of riches in terms of trail type and texture. I can ride from town and access segment 13 of the CDT, and that is a beautiful stretch of quintessentially high-country Colorado singletrack. Some roots and rocks here and there, but overall just a glorious romp through the aspen. The Ripley SL lives for this. It makes the climbs feel easy, turns energy into speed in an ethereal way on the rollers and flats, and has enough suspension to stay comfortable and composed all day long.
Then we’ve got the stuff across the bridge that the tourists sometimes call the “no-flow-zone.” It’s a little janky in places, lots of rocks, a huge variety of slabs and chunk. These trails reward wheel placement, but errors in timing or judgment can choke momentum off like flicking a switch. Here, the Ripley SL did okay, but had me wishing for more tires, and maybe a little less anti-squat, or a little more suspension. The dw-Link suspension has a little more capacity than some of the flex-stay bikes that I’ve smashed around these rocks, but it still reaches its limits sooner than heavier, stouter bikes with similar travel but stiffer frames and beefier tires.
And then there’s the big stuff above timberline. As a farewell dance, I took the Ripley SL out for a day on Monarch Crest. It floated up the climbs with an ease that made me wonder why I bother grovelling around on fat 34-pound pigs with radial tires. Then, somewhere near the end of Rainbow trail, as I pinballed helplessly down what can only be described as a feast of head-sized rocks and arm-thick roots, trying to avoid the hatchet shaped ones so I wouldn’t destroy the very light Dubnital rear tire while the suspension experienced something akin to the bicycle version of an epileptic seizure, I realized that, yes, there absolutely are limits to what very light bikes should be asked to do. Set expectations accordingly.
Sadly/thankfully there is no image from about 200 meters later, where I was dinging the rims on rocks, getting choked hard on a staircase that I came into way too fast, and gibbering in terror. Here, in this moment, the Ripley SL is eating. It is happy.
It doesn’t help that I weigh 190 pounds at the moment. Ibis says there are no explicit weight limits for the Ripley SL, but I felt some wind-up and twang in the chassis that I’m pretty sure would not be noticed by riders who weigh 30 or so pounds less than me. Same goes for the tires, and my observations about them a few months ago. The Ripley SL can be pushed further into the chunk zone than some of its ilk, but there’s still an edge. All that speed and snap has to have a flip side. Big people who sideload tires or love to charge alpine rock gardens recklessly, or people who huck hard? They might want to seek out a stouter dance partner.
The Ripley SL sits in a strange world. It’s more trail capable than, say, a Yeti ASR or Specialized Epic, but if we are talking similar travel numbers, is not quite as calm and confident as a Yeti SB120 or Trek Top Fuel. Those bikes feel almost glacial in their responsiveness by comparison, though. Some heftier tires would do a whole lot to assist, but would also somewhat neuter the incredible snappiness of the bike. This sounds like criticism, but it isn’t. It’s a reality check. I love this bike. I would love to own one. I would run the lightest tires and wheels I could get away with, and I would use it for pinning my heart rate until I can’t see straight anymore, on trails that I know won’t try to kill me or my super light tires, while I breathe through my eyeballs and meditate on “float” and “sting” and their relevance as metaphors.
