Ritchey P-29er Review: Rowdy Logic

Additional photography by Joe Redbeard

Unboxing my first-ever hardtail, the Kashima-colored stanchions presented like intimidating pillars of possibility. I’d always quietly lamented the additional potential point of failure, upkeep, and faff I imagined suspension systems to incur, but I’d never actually spent any real time with them. Unboxing the Ritchey P-29er felt like opening up Pandora’s box. As much as I’d resisted the added complexity of a modern mountain bike, I couldn’t anymore. My relocation to North Carolina meant a hardtail was more than appropriate for most of the riding out of my front door, and the Ritchey P-29er, with its sleek lines and minimalistic design, seemed like the right choice for someone dipping their toe in the world of mountain bikes.

Maybe it’s just a part of getting older, but I’d grown allergic to the proposed peril that seemed inherent to mountain biking when scrolling Instagram or YouTube. Whenever I came across mountain bike content, it seemed like even the tamest endeavors were rides I wouldn’t feel all that comfortable taking on. Having spent most of my youth not sparing but a moment’s thought to my safety, I’d become much more careful with myself and those around me as the years went on. With bikes being something I came to a little later in life, suspension seemed all too dangerous for my ailing tendons, joints, and bones. Moreover, if the gravel bikes I managed to squeeze a 2.25″ tire into didn’t kill me on the terrain I was now taking on, wouldn’t more capability just lead to greater injury risk and a higher service bill?

Initial Impressions

After putting it together, I took to the trails in my home state. The Little Big Econ’s rooty, fast-rolling river routes seemed like the perfect place to get acquainted with this new-to-me technology. After just a few minutes ripping through Florida’s sandy berms, I was hooked. It opened up a whole new perspective. The cumbersome trails I’d once struggled through on an aggressive gravel bike were now speedy slaloms on the Ritchey P-29er. Growing in confidence, I hit sections I once recoiled at with a newfound understanding of space-time. Moreso than any other change, the position of the machine allowed my less-than-technical skill to dance with the curves of the earth below. Where I’d once clumsily stepped on toes, bumping and bruising myself and the bike beneath me, the Ritchey kept pace with the seemingly organic movements that fell in line with the bike.

I was taken aback. Living in a world of impossible marketing claims, I’ve never been one to subscribe to the idea that a product is the key to possibility. In my mind, it’s much better to see what you’re capable of than resort to the claims supposedly attainable by the swipe of a credit card. To that end, my stubborn mindset had served some purpose. My skill and ability were tested every time I sought more technical trails because my bikes tended toward aggressive positions more suited to long days on gravel roads. The all-rounder-like geometry necessitated an understanding of body position, weight distribution, and careful line choice. It seemed a better way to navigate terrain I was already a little uneasy taking on, as the limitation of the bike would curb any hubris still living within my aging, mortal coil.

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After more than a few miles on central Florida’s slippery, sandy terrain, I was curious how the Ritchey would perform in proper mountain bike territory. After all, one of the biggest surprises I encountered was the tire size’s effect on handling and confidence. With a 29 x 2.1″ tire on the boost-spaced Ritchey WCS GX wheelset measuring true to form, I’d ridden much larger rubber with much less conviction in the same places. I’d often been told that wider tires equate to more confidence off-road, but these were the most assured tires I’d ever ridden. There was no squirm in the corners and no lack of grip on the roots and bare-faced rock. It didn’t immediately compute, but there was no sense that I was underprepared for much of anything on the P-29er despite its “smaller” tires.

Dissecting The Digits

Now in North Carolina, I crested the top of my favorite local climb and took stock of what really made the difference on the rough-and-tumble trails of the Pisgah Forest. Though the P-29er wasn’t doing anything revolutionary in terms of its geometry, as it’s broadly consistent with the numbers found on most modern, cross-country hardtails, the comfort and ability it allowed for through the length of its wheelbase, chainstays, and headtube angle was what I found responsible for its excellent performance across all kinds of riding. Perhaps an obvious point to experienced mountain bikers, the position and placement of the rider—more than anything else—informed the capable handling. Being just above, if not slightly ahead of the bottom bracket, coupled with a slightly slacker 69.5-degree headtube angle compared to other cross-country bikes, created a perfect combination of angles for someone like me.

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As I wrote, I was used to the discomfort and difficulty associated with underbiking. In experiments past, I found the ultra-slack, mega-long, incredibly cush properties of full-blooded mountain bikes to be too significant a difference to really be comfortable. However, the P-29er tended more toward the steep angles I was accustomed to without delving completely into the numbers found on modern gravel bikes. Within that, there’s long been a slightly snarky sentiment suggesting gravel riders should just get a cross-country bike. Instead of struggling on their increasingly slack, fat-tire gravel bikes, surely a cross-country mountain bike would do a better job?

While I’d assert a concrete distinction between the two genres, I feel this bike is a natural step between the two worlds. Though I wouldn’t actively seek to ride the P-29er on days dominated by pavement, it feels like a perfect “do-it-all” machine for someone with access to plenty of technical singletrack linked by gravel roads. Where short chainstays and 70+ degree head tubes combined with fat tires often make for an exciting ride, the 440mm rear end coupled with a slimmer 2.1″ tire makes the P-29er a scalpel in a drawer of increasingly blunt knives.

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Consistent with the hallmarks of other bikes in the same category, it’s the perfect machine for someone coming from an aggressive gravel setup. The fork let me pick and prod my way through the storm-damaged ruts of lower Pisgah, and the sufficiently sultry but not altogether snappy chainstays kept me level on the brutal gradients nearby. To that end, the rear was a point of distinction for me. Slicing my way through lower Appalachia’s distinctly frustrating freeze-thaw cycle, roots and rocks turn into islands just above the mud. Slaloming through the muck and the mire made it such that I was contorting my body in ways that didn’t feel too difficult given the P-29er’s geometry but wasn’t exactly languid riding.

Prior to digging into the numbers, I thought the chainstays would be much shorter, given how often the bike’s rear end seemed to magnetically attach to my backside. It was snappy and responsive, but not so much that it felt wobbly or unwieldy when bombing downhill. It didn’t immediately pop up when giving the bike some lift off a well-placed granite ramp, but it wasn’t firmly planted to the floor, either. The length and weight felt perfectly balanced for the riding you seek to get out of it.

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Taking to trails well above my pay grade, I wondered if the 100mm FOX Stepcast fork was doing more than I felt comfortable readily admitting. Through some experimentation with a rigid adventure fork, however, I was relieved to find out that I wasn’t as bad of a bike-handler as initially estimated. While the 100mm of travel helped in tackling some of the steeper sections without totally unseating my intended lines, the rigid fork made clear that the geometry and, dare I say, skill(!) were doing a lot of the work to keep me firmly planted on the ground.

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Set Bonus Synergy

Sent to me as a pre-ridden, visibly well-loved bike, the P-29er came with a complete matching Ritchey kit. From tires to seatpost, stem, and bars, the only thing that didn’t feature the iconic Ritchey insignia was the groupset—a 12-speed TRP system with Praxis Works cranks—and the FOX Step-Cast 100mm suspension fork. Though I’ve long been an admirer of Ritchey products, I haven’t actually spent all that much time with them. While I’m sure plenty of options would suit the bike as far as complementary componentry, the P-29er felt right with the matching kit. Like a set bonus in World of Warcraft, it felt like everything worked seamlessly and that I was deriving some invisible benefit from having a complete Ritchey Logic system. Every single component was light but strong, sexy but subtle, and never presented even the most minor issue. Save for switching out the cranks to better suit my 170mm preference, I’ve never had a bike fit me so well right out of the box.

• FORK: FOX 32 Step-Cast, 100mm
• STEERER TUBE: Alloy, 1.5 Tapered
• CRANKSET: Praxis Carbon Girder Cranks, 38t
• SHIFTERS: TRP G-Spec TR12 Shifter
• CASSETTE: Sunrace CSMZ90 WA5 12s
• REAR DERAILLEUR: TRP G-Spec TR12 Derailleur
• CHAIN: SRAM Eagle 12s
• HANDLEBAR: Ritchey Comp Trail Rizer 35, Rise35, Width 800 (uncut)
• STEM: Comp Trail 35 Stem, 35mm interface, +/-5º
• BRAKES: TRP Slate T4 (4-piston)
• WHEELS: WCS GX Wheels 28h
• TIRES: Ritchey WCS Shield 29 x 2.1″
• SEATPOST: Ritchey WCS Carbon Zero
• SADDLE: Ritchey WCS Skyline
• GRIPS: Ritchey WCS Truegrip X Locking Grips

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While some of the included kit is under embargo and set for further review, the piece I was most impressed with—besides the frame—was the Ritchey Shield tires. They share a lot in common with my favorite tire of all time—the Continental Race Kings—but are, perhaps, a touch stiffer in terms of casing. Either way, in the wet, slidey trails of lower Appalachia, the Ritchey Shields performed exceptionally well, keeping grip in the loosest corners and rolling pretty darn fast across all surfaces. Again, this was a big surprise given my experience with tires over the 2.25″ width, but I’d hesitate to put anything larger than the supplied 2.1.”

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Though the update to the P-29er includes the upgrade in tire clearance to 29 x 2.3,” it feels all but made for the 2.1″ tire size, cutting through mud, root, rock, and technical trail with ease and without the lack of confidence I’d felt on other, sometimes larger tires. To speak to the Shields in particular, it feels like a tire made for the unique terrain of the East Coast. With its dominating humidity and consistently shifting conditions across even the smallest forest rides, they strike an ideal balance I’ve only found on the Race Kings.

Loaded Logic

With a light, modest load, the P-29er took to its job as a bikepacking companion relatively well. I had my doubts as to how the light and supple tubeset would fare with anything more than my own weight and your typical day-ride fare, but balancing the load seemed to work pretty well in my time bikepacking with the Ritchey P-29er. Despite its slightly shorter wheelbase in comparison to other bikes in the category, it maintained its light and springy handling quality with the extra load on both the front and rear. Somehow, I didn’t find the P-29er to be all that different with my overnighter gear strapped to it. It was just a bit more muted. That said, the bike doesn’t feature many mounting points, and its external shift cable routing doesn’t present itself as particularly amenable to loading it up.

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Though I like how similar the handling performed in my time bikepacking on the P-29er, I wouldn’t choose this bike for a heavily loaded tour, as it seems more specifically suited to bikepacking endeavors centered around mileage and speed. While I was able to fit everything I needed for an overnighter in my front and rear bags, I’d struggle continue to add bags in ways that felt natural if I needed more for a multi-day trip. All that said, Fergus Tanaka of Ritchey sent over a rigid fork that I’ll be testing as the slushy snow melts here in Pisgah, so keep an eye out for a more detailed look at said component and how it affects the P-29er’s bikepacking ability.

Mistaken Minuses

Despite being more than satisfied with the Ritchey P-29er, there’s one minor qualm worth addressing. As with most of their frames, Ritchey opts for a more traditional, exposed shift cable-routing system. Unfortunately, despite the clean, traditional aesthetic, I’d say this system does little other than offer the worst of all worlds. Though external cable routing is always a plus for me, exposing the shift cable gives little flexibility in setup and can be somewhat finicky at certain junctures. Particularly at the entry point for the rear derailleur, the tolerance for cable housing length is much less lenient than on most other frames.

Because the provided TRP 12-speed system required quite a bit of space for actuation while shifting the wide-range cassette, cable housing must be spot on to ensure it doesn’t snag at the brazed-on stop or at the edge of the derailleur body housing. It’s a non-issue once set up properly, but for a somewhat sloppy, unprofessional home mechanic like me, I had to pay extra close attention to it. Additionally, as Miles detailed in his review of the Outback, the cable stops don’t play all that nicely with frame bags. It’s not a massive issue, as I wouldn’t choose the P-29er for touring, but it’s something to keep in mind, given so few companies in the same space choose this kind of cable routing system.

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All that said, it seems a point of design inherent to the identity of Ritchey. The P-29er derives its namesake from the famed “P-series” of Ritchey bikes, where Tom made racing-focused designs around specific weights. Bikes like the P-23 and P-21 weighed 23 and 21 pounds, respectively. When Ritchey brought back the P-series, altering their naming convention around wheelsize made more sense since they weren’t race-specific models. Even so, the P-29er is no anchor, with the bike weighing in at just 23 pounds, suspension fork and all.

Talking to other Ritchey owners and those more familiar with the brand, they clearly make excellent products with performance in mind. They’re not overbuilt, thick-tubed floor models you might find elsewhere. They’re made in small batches with incredible attention to detail. It is frankly astounding how this dainty-tubed hardtail managed the abuse my clumsy carcass threw at it as I slowly fumbled around its careful lines. It’s categorically the best tube set I’ve ever thrown a leg over and one that I’ll cherish now that I’ve purchased the bike for myself. All that to say, while not ideal, the presence of cable stops is a hallmark of the kind of design that made Ritchey into the iconic brand it is today. We might draw issue with it, but it’s a design distinction I’m happy to overlook in appreciation of the larger Ritchey character.

Edit: Unbeknownst to me, the model P-29er I received was an early production sample. The retail version that is available to the public has fully external routing, not the external shift cable stops pictured here.

• Model/Size Tested: Ritchey P-29er, Medium “Dirt in Blood”
• Actual Weight (complete as built): 23 lbs (10.43 kg)
• Place of Manufacture: Taiwan
• Price: $999.00 (frame)
• Manufacturer’s Details: Ritchey P-29er

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