The Mr Nice Guy keeping Crankworx cranking

Words Jill Nicholas

Pictures/video Stephen Parker

Ari Tibble’s first shot at organising a mountain biking event was for 70 kids. In his words it was “a bit of a flop.”

My, how things have changed.

For the past nine years he’s been executive director of Crankworx Rotorua which draws the globe’s mountain biking elite here for the first round of the annual world tour series.  Cairns (Australia), Innsbruck (Austria) and Whistler (Canada) are the sister venues.

For those not in the know Crankworx is to mountain bikers what snowboarding is to  the Winter Olympics. It’s where fearless individuals pitch themselves against not only each other, but conquer gravity-defying obstacles across the sport’s multi disciplines.

In other words it’s extreme sport at its most extreme. 

 At 40, Ari (that’s short for Ariki) Tibble is its front man. This genuine Mr Nice Guy brings with him a Bachelor’s degree in physical education and a Master’s in management.

He was given the job by the man he calls his “brother from another mother”, Tak Mutu, whose name is synonymous with the sport of mountain biking in Rotorua. Ari’s also chief executive of Mountain Bike Events Ltd, a not-for-profit joint venture  between Mutu, Skyline Rotorua and the Rotorua Lakes Council. 

According to Ari it was set up to attract and deliver world-class mountain biking events expressly for Rotorua’s benefit while the Crankworx mission statement is to present Rotorua as a world-leading mountain biking mecca “and more”.

It’s fruitless to argue they haven’t succeeded. Crankworx is undisputedly the city’s major event, an “up there” money spinner for the local economy and an international profile builder. That’s locally and New Zealand wide.

Bikes and biking have been part of Ari Tibble’s life as long as he can remember.

 “When I was two my grandfather gave me a small two wheeler he’d repaired and repainted. It didn’t have training wheels.  My mother tells me I jumped on it and peddled off on my first try.” 

His first ‘big boy’s’ bike arrived when he was six or seven.

“It had The A Team written across the side and a bucket seat. I felt I was the coolest kid in town.”

Flatting at 14 

‘Town’ was Hamilton where he spent his growing up years. Ari’s didn’t follow the normal pattern.  At 14, and going through what he refers to as ‘A challenging time’ he went flatting, moving in with his brother Taparahi who was ten years older. 

“After a few months he left New Zealand. I was flatting with 20 and 30-year-olds.  Looking at 14 and 15-year-olds now I am astonished I was living independently at their age. 

“At the time it felt like no big deal. I had the attitude ‘this is where the ball lies, all the consequences are my own’.

“You have to grow up pretty quick when you are the back stop for yourself. If I didn’t pull my weight, it was me who suffered.”

There was a downside. School mates’ parents considered him a bad influence because he was flatting. They refused to let their kids hang out with him.

His best mate’s South African family weren’t so closed minded. They invited him to spend weekends with them and included him in family gatherings.

There were also teachers who went the extra mile.

“Two in particular recognised my learning potential, they went out of their way for me, launching me on a strong path.

“My sports science teacher taught me how to use my body as a text book, a reference tool that I could use to learn about physics, biology, maths and social sciences.

“It felt like cheating but it was just a way of learning I didn’t know before.” 

In his final year his social studies teacher and her husband took him in to live with them.

“They gave me a solid platform for such an important year.” 

Sport had always been his primary passion.

“I was a free-range kid, playing out on the streets, rugby, bike riding roller blading.”  

University, concussion 

With school behind him, he and his South Africa-born mate headed for Otago University, Ari to study Phys-Ed, his mate to study business.

“Campus was like another world, 25,000 people of my age were dumped in the same place. It felt like four years on a school camp, as well as a world of possibilities.”
Was he a member of the couch burning brigade?

“I think I did more damage to myself than I did to other people’s property. There was a strong drinking culture which wasn’t unfamiliar to me.”

Unlike a lot of his contemporaries who didn’t need to work to support themselves, Ari did.  He became a gym instructor and personal trainer.  He’d also worked his way through high school.

However studies and work ground to a halt in his third year when a school boy knock on the rugby field came back to haunt him.

Post-concussion syndrome set in. 

“It affected me in quite surprising ways. I wasn’t able to focus on conversations, couldn’t listen to music without becoming agitated, I was prone to emotional outbursts.”

 He returned to his mother in Hamilton to recover.

“I had to train myself to concentrate. I remember lying on my bed concentrating on the dots on the ceiling. Eventually my functions returned to me.

“What I experienced really equipped me with self- skills and how to manage myself. I learnt a lot through that process.” 

He went back to Otago but had missed out on graduating with his cohort. 

He graduated six months later and was working full time at Les Mills when he received a call from his brother. 

Rotorua, Sport Bay of Plenty 

Taparahi had moved to Rotorua with plans to open a restaurant and run it as a family business.  He wanted Ari on board.

Ari agreed to change course.

“I left Dunedin listening to Fat Freddie’s Drop’s Hope and crying my eyes out because I was leaving at the height my enjoyment of the place. I really didn’t want to leave which I think made it the perfect time to go.”  

This person who’s now inextricably linked to Crankworx hadn’t been in Rotorua long when he went mountain biking. 

“I went over the handlebars. It’s a shameful thing to admit but I broke my collar bone  on one of the easiest trails in the forest. It had to be plated.

“A few years later I went mountain biking again. A friend was telling me how to ride well-known stepdown that had claimed a few scalps. I remember Loss [his partner] saying not to do it, I'd break my collarbone.  I remember saying ‘watch this.’ An ambulance had to be called.  I’d broken the same collar bone.

“My reminder to my younger self is not to get injured in the first place. It affected my confidence but didn’t put me off. I’m probably a little less reckless now.”

He was recuperating when a job at Sport Bay of Plenty came onto his radar. It was as facilitator for the Active Schools Programme, coupled with event coordinator for a collective of 16 local primaries. The dual roles were tailor made for him.

Several years on he was appointed Schools Sports Team leader with the additional responsibilities of Regional Sports Director for secondary schools and lead manager for the Go For It fundamental sports skills programme for primary schools throughout the region.

Demanding as his job was Ari returned to university, studying extramurally at Massey for his Masters in management.

“I can’t say anything highly enough about Sport Bay of Plenty and their leadership team. I was given so many opportunities to learn a lot in a short amount of time.”

Short in this time frame was two years. 

“That level of education is really about becoming diligent and disciplined.” 

Founding a family 

He met Lossie Ma’afu, his partner of the past 20-plus years, at a tourism function.  

“I was not planning on being around long. I thought we’d hang out over summer then go our separate ways but we enjoyed each other’s company too much [to part].”

Together they have three daughters and a grandson.

“Crikey,” we say, “You’re a grandfather?”

“Yes, at 39. I’m not sure what a grandfather is supposed to feel like but I can say there’s a difference in the way you feel for your children and grandchildren.  It’s a different dynamic – super lovely.”

While at Sport Bay of Plenty there was a side hustle with Multi Day Adventures run by local man Nick Chater.  Part of the business catered for school kids from Asia. 

“We’d pick them at Auckland Airport and look after them throughout their eight-day itinerary.

“We’d take them rafting, tramping, camping, mountain biking. We were their drivers, cooks, guides, mentors. It was about weaving this complete package.”

His friendship with Tak Mutu was cemented on those trips. They’d met earlier on the Lava Bar’s dance floor.

“We were a couple of Maori boys who shared an appreciation of our 1980s childhood icons like Michael Jackson. 

“We had a lot of fun, a lot of laughs on these trips. Tak would pick me out and introduce me as part of their management team.”

It was a “seeing into the future” prediction that came true.

Crankworx calls

“In 2014 Tak called me and said ‘Bro, how would you like to work on Crankworx with me?’.

“I said ‘yes’ then Googled it; it was terrifying.” 

It was, he says, chance that started Crankworx Rotorua.  Crankworx International were looking for a Southern Hemisphere site.

Rotorua was at the front of the queue saying ‘pick me, pick me’.

“There were no big feasibility studies, no applications. It was just good old fashioned telephone calls and hustle.”

The Canadian managing director of Crankworx Darren Kinnaird was invited to see what was on offer. 

“He said ‘this is going to be the next destination. It’s a great community, there’s an amazing network of trails”.   

That’s when Ari got Tak’s call up.

“From then on we were in each others’ pockets, back-to-back emailing, calling organisations for what seemed like 18 hours a day every day.  We had six months to raise $1.6 million, find sponsors, investors, build a team executive and the event.

“Going into it we wanted to retain our sense of self.  We were in shorts and jandals talking to people in suits about producing an event of the same calibre as Whistler. 

“We were convincing them to part with large sums of money to benefit Rotorua. For us the event was about marketing Rotorua as an international mountain biking mecca by delivering a world-class level of service. 

“It was always important for us to drive the economic impact to help people look at Rotorua through a different lens, whether locals or visitors, to create opportunities for our people to come together to engage with this unique opportunity.”

Hard, privileged work

It wasn’t a laid-back, walk in the park undertaking.

“It was tough going. Tak was the rock. He’d say ‘We have got this’. I wonder now if he was saying it for my benefit or his.”

 Within six months they’d delivered the first Rotorua Crankworx.

All up, Rotorua has hosted nine Crankworx World Tour events and three Enduro world series  events since 2015. It took two years to come out of the red into the black. 

“Our purpose is not to make money but to retain the team, the expertise that delivers it and optimise the event itself. The pandemic was rough.”

Last summer two events were staged within a four-month window to make up for lost time.

“It’s a relief we have closed that phase.”

 Before one year’s event is over the planning for the next has begun.

“The event is the big crunch but work flows the year round.”

Rotorua is guaranteed Crankworx’s hosting rights until 2027.

“We know there are a lot of other regions on the planet who would love to have it too. 

“We are so lucky to have it and we need to hold on to it for as long as it delivers for our people and community.

 “I feel I am in a very privileged position to keep the torch lit and hold it as long as we can.” 

 To Ari, it’s the same type of team work that keeps Crankworx cranking that’s made him the person he is.      

“I feel over the years I have had people sweeping into my life who have pulled me through the current, the current that takes you in good directions. 

“I am forever grateful for these amazing people who have formed the team around me at each phase of my life so far.

“Seldom do I see anything meaningful being created by individuals. 

  “Team work is everything. If we were just individuals with an event like this we would be chewed up and spat out.”