Should the Derailleur Die? Zerode's Gearbox-Equipped Taniwha - Review

Seriously, go ahead and pick literally any mountain bike; this black, 27.5'' wheeled Zerode gets more stares, more questions, more ''Can I pedal your bike around?'' than any other test rig I've ever had in my possession. But hopes, dreams, coolness, and parking lot tests count for precisely diddly squat. I'd argue that this $9,500 USD potential paradigm shift needs to come with some real on-trail advantages to justify not just its different-ness, but also its 34lb 4oz weight, proprietary twist shifter, and having to re-learn how and when to change gears.

The Taniwha is far from being the first gearbox bike, but it does feel like one of the first realistic options for someone who wants to shun the derailleur. Yes, even at $5,000 USD for a frame, shock, Pinion gearbox, and all the drivetrain parts, it comes across as more attainable, more real than a Nicolai, Cavalerie, or some other European exotica. For whatever reason, the Taniwha is the one bike that's always left a hint of hope in my mind that maybe there is is an essentially zero maintenance drivetrain. That maybe there is a better solution than the derailleur. And, when I'm feeling a bit cynical, that maybe we don't Shimano or SRAM parts to have a high-performance drivetrain that works well.

The viability of the gearbox drivetrain is a topic that I tackled in my 'What's Keeping the Gearbox Down?' 1 Question article early last year, with opinions from SRAM, Shimano, Zerode's Rob Metz, ex-Honda racer Greg Minnaar, and both Pinion and Effigear included. As you might expect, perspectives varied depending on where they were coming from.

And, having ridden it for the last few months, I now have my own perspective on not just the Taniwha, but also the gearbox drivetrain itself.

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Construction and Features

Rob Metz, the New Zealander behind Zerode, released his aluminum G1 downhill bike (pictured below) eight years ago, and then he followed that up with the more refined (and also aluminum) G2 a few years later. Both of those wild looking machines employed an Alfine hub in the frame as a gearbox, along with an extremely high main pivot to help the bike carry speed through the worst of the worst.


RC photo

The Taniwha is an entirely different animal, however, with a 12-speed Pinion gearbox bolted to the bottom of the frame and a relatively conventional suspension layout. ''It is very difficult keeping an idler pulley quiet enough to be acceptable on an enduro/trail bike,'' Metz said when we asked him why the difference in design between the G1/G2 and the Taniwha.



Cam Mackenzie photo



The carbon front triangle looks as sharp as anything else out there, with internal routing for the dual shift cables that make for a bit of a mess up front but thankfully disappear inside the frame just aft of the tapered headtube. They pop out of a port located just above the C.Line gearbox, while the rear brake line is routed externally for its entire length.

Yes, there is a bottle cage mount, but it needs to be mentioned that only the smallest of bottles won't interfere with the Cane Creek shock on my large-sized test bike. You know how I feel about that...

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Pinion 12-speed C.Line Gearbox

And now onto the whole reason for the Taniwha's existence: the 12-speed C.Line gearbox that's attached to the bottom of the carbon frame. The main facts are pretty straightforward: this gearbox gives you a 600-percent gear range via twelve ratios that each have the same 17.7-percent jump between them.

So, with a 30-tooth chainring and a 30-tooth cog, the Taniwha's lowest ratio is equivalent to a 30-tooth chainring and a massive 54-tooth cog. No excuses for walking, enduro boy. At the opposite end, you're looking at the equal of a 30-tooth chainring and tiny 9-tooth cog, and the 600-percent range easily trumps the 500-percent number offered by a 12-speed Eagle drivetrain.


Matt Wragg photo

Matt Wragg photo

If you're the kind of rider who pays attention to what your legs are doing, you'll know the total gear range isn't the whole story. The 17.7-percent change between each gear is also worth noting as while it's not outrageous at all (there are bigger jumps at the top of many cassettes), it is a relatively large difference between each gear. For reference sake, 12 to 16-percent is the ratio change you'll find when shifting around on most cassettes, and many people (including moi) believe that 13-percent is the most natural feeling jump.

The 19-percent and 20-percent numbers at the bottom and top of an XX1 block are the outliers that everyone seems to be just fine with for some reason, maybe because they view the 50 and 10-tooth cogs as only being needed for special occasions, AKA when you blow up or when you're commuting on the road.


Matt Wragg photo

The Pinion gearbox is a constant-mesh system that's said to be able to run for years and years on just an oil change or two, which is where the nearly maintenance-free promise comes from. It calls for an oil change after 10,000 miles, which is insane when a traditional drivetrain can be trashed in less than a season of hard (mis)use.

Shifting is done via the Pinion twister that's secured to the right side of the handlebar by way of some too-small setscrews that preload the clamp, and the system requires two cables because you're constantly pulling the selector one way or the other; there is no derailleur spring to counteract cable tension. Also, the indexing actually happens inside the gearbox, not the shifter. No, you can't have a trigger shifter yet, although I've been hearing about one for ages now.




This thing isn't light - Pinion claims that it weighs 2,100-grams on its own - and it requires that funky twist shifter and two shift cables... so why use it? There's that promise of an essentially maintenance-free drivetrain (you still have a chain to lube and eventually wear out, of course), no silly cassette and derailleur out at the axle should mean less unsprung weight, you've got that dreamy, dead-straight chainline, and you can have a zero-dish rear wheel that should also be nice and strong.

And the shifting! You can change gear while you're coasting, back-pedaling, not moving at all, or upside down and spinning around with only your right hand on the twist shifter. Pretty neat. What you can't do, however, is shift under pedaling load, but I'll get to that later on in the riding impressions. Want to know more about Pinion's gearboxes? Our own Matt Wragg visited their headquarters, which is near Stuttgart, Germany, to meet founders Christoph Lerman and Michael Schmitz, and to learn more about the inner workings of what could be the derailleur's worst nightmare.

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Geometry and Sizing

The Taniwha's geometry is mostly what you'd expect to see on a 160mm-travel bike made to smash into things, with a slack angle up front and a steep angle out back. Its reach isn't as forward-thinking, however, with a somewhat conservative 445mm number for my large-sized test bike that's not crazy short but is certainly shorter than many other bikes of similar intention. Unlike some who believe that longer is always better, I'm of the opinion that, for the most part, there is no right or wrong when it comes to geometry, but the onus is on the buyer to make sure the numbers gel with them. I'm 5' 10'' on a good day and prefer a bit more of a compact bike than some other people, so I felt good with the Taniwha's 445mm reach.




That not-too-lengthy reach, as well as the 74.5-degree seat angle, go a long way to making the 65-degree head angle feel far more usable than a 65-degree head angle ever should. The bottom bracket sits at a not excessively low 352mm off the deck (there's 5mm of drop), and the wheelbase is an equally reasonable 1,202mm. Zerode does vary headtube lengths by 10mm between sizes, too, with this large sporting a 120mm height.

Metz has, wisely, in my opinion, been somewhat conservative with the Taniwha's geometry, and the bike will likely suit a wider range of riders, terrain, and needs because of that fact. It also means that a guy of average height like myself can choose between the large (445mm reach) and extra-large (a much, much roomier 475mm reach) sizes to best match their intentions, although the seat tube length on the XL may be a limiting factor when it comes running a longer travel dropper post. If I was an enduro racer type, I might want the longer bike as I have legs and arms that don't quit, but the large makes the most sense for my style, trails, and because I'd rather skid sideways through a corner than race through a corner.

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Suspension Design

For all its gearbox-ness, the Zerode is a relatively conservative machine overall, and that theme continues when it comes to the bike's 160mm-travel suspension layout. It's a single-pivot, linkage activated setup, with the main pivot sitting inline with the top of the chainring to keep the action quite neutral. Metz certainly could have used a Horst Link if he wanted to - the design is open and free for all now - so why not go that route?

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Test Bike Setup


So it took me a few extra rides, and a few extra stops to make trail-side adjustments, to get the Zerode to feel like home, which is pretty much the gist of my early time on the Zerode. More so than any other of the countless test bikes I've ridden over the last decade, the Taniwha requires an open mind and a willingness to re-learn what to expect and how to get the most out of it.

If you believe that a gearbox drivetrain is a forward-thinking approach that's 'The Answer,' you sure as hell better be okay with having to re-learn how you do a lot of things on the trail. And if you're okay with that big, fat disclaimer, then the Taniwha might be right up your alley. Let's get to it, then.

Climbing

Keeping expectations relative - this is a 160mm bike with a 65-degree head angle - the big Zerode feels surprisingly not that big on rooty, tight climbs. Its wheelbase isn't crazy long, and neither is its reach, which certainly helps matters, and the rear end delivers traction that would make a Pinzgauer jealous, so she'll get up all sorts of things if you have the skill and power. Take those wide lines, take your time, and take a well-deserved break at the time.

While the bike's slow-speed handling is better than I assumed it would be, the Pinion gearbox pretty much refuses to let you grab an easier gear under any sort of pedaling loads. Picture yourself halfway up a steep face and needing to go one gear lower to get up and over whatever's in front of you... Now imagine not being able to do that unless you essentially stop putting any power down through the cranks. Yeah, it can get tricky, and I was frustrated during my first few rides aboard the Zerode until I had it drilled into my head that I needed to plan much farther ahead than I'd ever need to while using a traditional drivetrain.

All that said, while you do need to drop the watts down to close to zero, I should emphasize that you don't actually need to stop pedaling to shift into an easier gear.



Serious shifting foibles aside, it does relatively well on singletrack climbs despite a shock that seems to want to sit into all of its stroke when things get steep and your weight bias moves rearward, especially at the 30-percent sag figure that makes sense for this type of rig. You'll use the Cane Creek shock's Climb Switch often, and the rear end tends to wallow enough that not even I can begrudge that anodized gold cheater lever. I kept feeling like I wanted an even steeper seat angle than the 74.5-degree number the Taniwha sports, but again, this is solely down to rear suspension that's eager to sit deep into its travel.

Pedaling performance isn't anything to brag about, either, but the Taniwha's anti-squat is designed to keep things active and traction at a maximum, not firm up the suspension so you can get to the top of the climb thirteen seconds before your buddies who don't even know that it's a race. It's not a race up anything when you're on the Taniwha, just so you know, but swapping out the heavy tires (the Convict weighs 1,239-grams; the Trail Boss weighs 1,050-grams) for something in the 800-gram range would be a smart move if you want some more pep out of this machine.


But the Taniwha isn't designed to make climbing easy, is it? No, of course not. Metz has made this thing to be a beast on the descents, not to make you feel like a beast on the ascents, so I'm not sure how much it matters that I'd rather be aboard pretty much any other 160mm-travel bike if I have to pedal to the top a big mountain. Anyway, it doesn't get a free pass just because it has a gearbox, but I'd recommend putting less stock in my feedback on this front if you're the kinda guy that wears hardshell kneepads during the climb or routinely packs a few trail pops and a Mars bar in your backpack.

Sometimes I get a bit jealous of riders who don't give a toss about climbing performance. This is one of those times because, when you do point this monster down a proper trail, any painful memories of having to hump the Taniwha to the summit are forgotten in a way that only the deep stages of dementia should be able to accomplish.

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Descending

Forget everything I moaned about when being forced to type out my notes on climbing - you won't give a single shit after riding the Taiwha how it was intended to be ridden. On a rough, fast trail, the kind that you maybe get a little nervous to ride, this thing will make other bikes feel like a Mumford & Sons song that you play quietly in your Yaris with the windows rolled up because it's Mumford & Sons. But the Taniwha? It's you cranking Slayer to 11 from the speakers in your Abrams tank while tearing up the grass at your old high school. It's tank donuts.

This is a downhill bike. Not really, but also really. Okay, suspension first because it's why you're in that Abrams. The Taniwha's 160mm of rear wheel travel feels deep and controlled, with a level of bump devouring ability that I can't recall any other 160mm bike displaying. Small, high-frequency impacts nearly disappear between the tires and your feet, and the back of the bike doesn't skitter around on such things as other bikes do. Thing is, I wouldn't have said that other bikes do such a thing before having ridden the Zerode at ten-tenths, but now I know that they do. Traction is always there, too, whether you're braking or crossing over an off-camber bit of dirt, and while I'm not convinced that I was getting on the binders any later compared to other bikes, I sure as hell felt like I was full of indestructible teenage courage and angst.




Hard hits that push the DB IL to the end of its stroke felt muted, too, with no worrying clanging or smashing to report. I have a hard time believing that the suspension's performance is solely down to the lack of a 400-gram cassette and a derailleur, but it has to be a factor. There's no clutch, no freehub, and less weight, and the back of the Taniwha is unreal, so it is what it is.

The Helm is quite the thing as well, but much like the bike as a whole, it's a fork that performs best when a skilled, fast rider is giving it balls and taking chances. The damping is firm and controlled - I had the compression settings nearly fully open, whereas I'm often somewhere in the middle when using a Pike or 36 - and you can get enough ramp-up out of the Helm to keep the biggest, most aggressive riders smiling. It's the smaller, more timid types that will find the Helm to be over-damped, however, so keep that in mind. Again, just like the entire bike, the Helm performs best if you really know what you're doing, so be honest with yourself.



And the cornering... dear God, please feed me all the corners when I'm on this bike. With more traction than should be possible, and a planted, if a bit uninspiring way about it, the Taniwha can crush corners like grade 12 math crushed my mom's hopes for her only son's post-secondary education. The bike has a stability to it, or maybe a calmness is a better way to put it, through all sorts of corners that makes a rider feel like they're more skilled and brave than they might be.


The Taniwha is a bike that, at least for me, elicits some strong riding impressions. Hey, the more unique a bike is, the more polarizing it'll tend to be, and my own judgment of the bike isn't exactly as glowing. With that in mind, I reached out to Neil Flock, owner of Cycle Monkey, the American distributor for Zerode that provided our test bike, for some feedback on my assessment of the Taniwha. Here's what he had to say:

''We think the Taniwha is a great 'one bike' option for riders who prioritize descending technical terrain and big mountain adventures. It is happiest when trails go up or down, without a lot of concern for more mellow terrain. Mike rode a fairly burly Taniwha build, one that intentionally skews toward the aggressive end of the spectrum, with thick casing tires and DH rims. Why? Our philosophy is to ride as aggressively as possible, and when equipped with a super durable gearbox, we don’t want the failure of any other component to stop us - especially when racing, traveling to remote places, or getting lost in the backcountry on an all-day adventure. All our demo and media bikes are built up similarly, as we want the parts spec to reflect the upper limit of what this bike can do.''

''That said, you can also build a Taniwha much lighter without any price difference. Rob Metz’s personal bike weighs 32lb, and with the right parts kit, you can get a bike down to the 30lb zone... And if this doesn’t sound like you, stay tuned as the Zerode range expands.''




I guess the best way to put it is that the Taniwha sacrifices a whole bunch all-around ability to be one hell of a bruiser when you need a bike like that. Asking it to do otherwise would be like asking Anthony Joshua to cut 50lb and drop down a bunch of weight classes; it's not what he's made for, and that's not what the Taniwha's made for, either.

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How does it compare? And what about that shifting?

Compare to what, exactly? There aren't exactly a load of gearbox-equipped bikes out there for me to say that the Taniwha is better or worse than, but I bet you're more interested in how the Zerode fares against a top of the line all-mountain sled with a derailleur, anyway. You probably want to know if this bike is the 'The One' that will deliver us from the oppression of our derailleur-based society, and if the Zerode makes derailleurs seem like the antiquated joke that they sure look like.

Well, it's not, and it doesn't.




There's a lot to love about the Taniwha, especially how dump truck-solid and stable the bike feels when things are hectic. And it tracks the ground better than some of us keep track of our first love that long ago moved on, got married, and looks happier with that dude who owns a jet ski and lifted Dodge than she ever did with you. But you know that it's just the idea of her that you're so infatuated with and that there are damn good reasons why she's with that Steve idiot instead of your non-jet ski owning ass.

I feel the same way about the Taniwha - like a lot of us, I love the idea of a gearbox bike, but things aren't so rosy in the real world.

Gearbox devotees like to talk about how weight isn't everything, and that a gearbox bike hides its heft well because it's centralized between your feet. There may be something to that - the Taniwha's rear suspension is quite the thing, after all - but there's no hiding the fact that this $9,500 USD bike weighs 34lb 4oz without pedals. If you spent nearly ten grand on a Slash, Slayer, Enduro or whatever else, they'd likely weigh five or six pounds less, and probably feel like they weigh ten pounds less on the trail. I'm sorry, but it does matter, and the Taniwha comes across as sluggish and uninspiring in many scenarios compared to any high-end enduro bike.

I want a machine that lights a fire under my ass to sprint for a gap, or to make the most out of all the natural poppers and lips... the Taniwha doesn't do this as other bikes do, and I often had less fun riding it because of this fact.




''But you can shift whenever you want, Levy,'' you say. Well, no, not even close. Sure, you can grab a gear while coasting or back-pedaling or while the wheels are off the bike and you have a bubble tea in one hand and the twister in the other, but you can't shift to an easier gear if there's even a hint of load on the drivetrain. And when does one often want to shift into an easier gear? While pedaling up a hill, of course. ''You can't shift under heavy load while using a derailleur, either,'' you say. Bullocks. I do it all the time and have no issues other than causing some bad sounds, but you also only need to back off a touch to nail a shift up to an easier gear under load. With the Pinion gearbox, you essentially need to drop down to zero watts to make it happen.
Mountain biking can be a scrappy, unpredictable sport, and having to shift at inopportune times is part of the game... unless all your ascents are gravel roads, that is. Mine aren't.




You can adapt to get the most out of the Pinion C.Line gearbox, and I found myself using two different approaches to shifting that helped matters. When faced with the need to grab an easier gear on a tricky singletrack climb, I'd preload the twist shifter ever so slightly - remember, the indexing is in the 'box rather the twister, so it just feels kinda like the changer is up against a hard stop when you do this. Then, when the time was right and I was able to ease up on the pedals without dabbing or coming to a complete stop, the gearbox would shift into a lower gear, at which point you can begin to put the power down again. All of that can happen in only a few feet of distance on the trail when you get it down pat, and it begins to feel like far less of an inconvenience that it sounds like. Still, I can shift pretty much whenever the hell I want with a derailleur as long as my cranks are spinning around. Also, the throw of the twist shifter feels excessive when you want to grab more than one or two gears at a time; tighter spacing and more pronounced indexing (which happens in the gearbox) would be a nice change.


If that sounds like you, then I think you'll see more upside than downside to the Zerode's derailleur-free drivetrain. After all, the promise of 10,000 miles before the Pinion gearbox even needs a five-minute oil change is pretty appealing. As for me, I can't remember the last time I killed a derailleur or even bent a hanger, so this whole thing is a real hard sell, especially given the shifting idiosyncrasy. I don't think I'm alone, either... We ran a Pinkbike Poll back in 2016 questioning the reliability of derailleurs, and over 6,500 of the 10,000 replies stated that it had either been more than two years since they broke a derailleur, they couldn't even remember the last time they broke one, or that they've never even had an issue. And over 9,000 readers also said that they rarely have troubles at all, or that they're at least moderately happy with their current drivetrain.

Here's another way to look at it: if this were a test bike that had a derailleur-based drivetrain that shifted like the Pinion gearbox, I wouldn't be a happy camper. So why is it acceptable in a more expensive, heavier package? Harsh, maybe, but it's the truth. Neil Flock, owner of Cycle Monkey, did make a counterpoint to that thought: ''If a person who only ever drove an automatic car tried to drive a manual, would they be likely to leave with an impression that a manual transmission doesn’t really work?''

His comparison of automatic and manual transmissions does hold some water, too, as neither are designed to work or feel the same, and many of us are just fine with that: ''It’s one thing to be disappointed when a derailleur bike doesn’t act like a derailleur bike. This bike isn’t intended to act like a derailleur bike and makes huge gains because it doesn’t!''

Flock brings up an excellent question: is the shifting worse than with a derailleur, or is it just different? Zerode's own Rob Metz and Ali Quinn both argue that the bike is about much more than simply how it shifts, and they stress that they're not trying to compete against the traditional drivetrain, either. ''We didn't set out to make the derailleur die. We just wanted to build the perfect bike for the kind of riding we love; something confidence inspiring that encourages you to get off the brakes, and that is unashamedly most at home on fast, rough, and steep trails, Metz says. And they've certainly accomplished that goal, regardless of how the bike shifts. Metz's continues: '' A bike with absolute reliability that won't let you down mid-race stage or four hours into a backcountry epic. In this setting, the gearbox is about a whole lot more than just shifting. It's the suspension game-changer of unsprung mass; it's low center of gravity corner railing and its 10,000 miles between services.''




Rob also argue that how the bike shifts is less important than how it performs as a whole, and that performance is only possible through the use of a gearbox. ''It's not surprising that the gearbox conversation always circles back to shifting; after all, that's its basic function. It's different, and it's almost always the first thing people notice about the bike,'' a point that he and I clearly agree on.

''Some love it immediately, and some take a while to get accustomed to it. But after a while, muscle memory takes over, shifting fades into the background, and the true benefits of the gearbox shine through. At the end of the day, no one high fives each other about the perfect shift, but that perfect roosted corner, that drop you've always been nervous about hitting or just waiting an extra ten seconds at the bottom of a hill for your mates is what brings home the real smiles.''

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Technical Report

WTB tires: If I'm honest, WTB was probably near the bottom of my list of tire brands that'd I choose to run, somewhere after a set of Nokian Gazzaloddis that have gotten hard as decade-old Haribo, and somewhere before those Marzocchi tires that have clever 'M's for knobs. Yuck. But I was wrong, again, and I ended up getting along just fine with the WTB Convict and Trail Boss rubber on the Taniwha, even if the latter isn't exactly the best wet-weather option. You can read all the words about them in my review. Summary: I liked 'em.




Derby DH 35i carbon rims: Wide as hell, no pretentious stickers exclaiming your carbon rimmed superiority over your loser friends and their alloy hoops, and not a hint of trouble. Oh, and they don't cost more than a bachelor's degree, either. Isn't it strange that $445 USD is an ''acceptable'' amount of coin to some riders for a single rim? Weird times, indeed. The Derby hoops were reliable, sure, but it'd be hard for me to choose them over a set of aluminum rims if I was spending my own coin.

Magura MT Trail brakes: The set of German stoppers that came on my Taniwha test bike might be the best performing brakes that I've ever used... In my life. Seriously, they're that good. Magura has combined immense power with gentle modulation that makes most other heavy-hitting brakes feel like all you're doing is jamming a golf club through your bike's spokes when you yank the lever. If you often face wet or very dry and loose conditions, I can't recommend the MT Trail brakes enough.




Things I'd swap out: If the Taniwha were mine, the bike's Syntace Moto Gripz would be in the bin quicker than I can say "My hands deserve better than this.'' The odd shape just doesn't feel right to me, and that raised outer collar rubs the edge of my sweaty palms in the bad kind of way. I'm also on the record shitting on remote levers many times over the last few years, and while I do stand by that, I think I might want to install Cane Creek's Opt sliding remote to firm up the DB air IL shock. The Taniwha's hefty weight and run-of-the-mill pedaling abilities don't exactly inspire, so an on-the-fly crutch wouldn't hurt the cause. Or you can just reach down and flip the switch, I guess.

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Is this the bike for you?

It is if everything I said about the Taniwha's shifting foibles and heft sounds whingy to you, and if broken derailleurs and worn out drivetrains routinely ruin your ride and empty your wallet. The Zerode is also an extremely capable and solid-feeling bike that best suits fast, rough terrain. So, yeah, if that sounds like you and your 'hood, then the Taniwha might be the teammate you've been looking for.

But if your trails are more rolling than steep, and more smooth than rough, I suspect that you'll be better off on a lighter weight, more playful 160mm-travel bike, derailleur and all. My advice is to just be honest with yourself when it comes to your abilities, how you ride, and the terrain that you frequent. Do yourself a big favor and don't make the Taniwha's gearbox the main reason that you buy this bike; there's much more to its performance than that.

Pinkbike's Take

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