A Bike for Birding | 1996 Kona Fire Mountain | Resto-Mod
A slippery slope into birding
Birding wasn’t a planned hobby. It crept in slowly — a side effect of age, work travel, and spending more time alone outdoors between flights, hotels, and unfamiliar places. What started as idle observation became something more deliberate: learning calls, carrying binoculars, noticing patterns. Before long, it began to overlap with cycling in ways I didn’t expect. Quiet lanes, bridleways, woodland edges — the same spaces that make cycling rewarding also happen to be where birds reveal themselves. From there, it was a short step to realising that an older, slower, more utilitarian bike made more sense for this kind of riding than anything modern and performance-focused. The retro practicality of 90s mountain bikes — steel frames, relaxed geometry, room for bags and guards — felt like the natural bridge between the two interests.
How this build really started
I never intended to strip this Kona Mountain down and rebuild it. I overpaid for it, largely because it was local and advertised as recently serviced. On the first few rides, it was clear that something wasn’t right. It rode badly — vague, noisy, and inconsistent — and every attempt to “just fix one thing” revealed two more issues underneath.
The turning point came with the rust. What started as surface cleanup quickly became a butchered mess of half-removed corrosion and uneven prep. At that point, there was no halfway house left. Either live with it and resent the bike, or commit fully. I chose the latter. One thing led to another, and before long the Kona was completely stripped back, not to chase perfection, but to start again properly and build something that made sense for how I actually wanted to use it.
A bike built for use — and for me
The aim was to create a bike that complemented my modern bikes rather than overlapping with them. Utility came first. A basket from Mainvale, mudguards, and flat pedals — a departure from my usual SPD-only setup — all made sense for birding, short rides, and stopping often. This was also my first ever full build, which meant learning as I went and accepting that not everything would be perfect.
Despite the practical brief, I couldn’t resist colour. I began with a resto-mod mindset, using a Rod Emory–inspired shade from Spray.Bike’s vintage palette. That restraint didn’t last. Colour got the better of me, and the hand-drawn pink paint-pen accents followed. Life’s too short. This bike isn’t for others — it’s for me.
I kept the accents deliberately simple and silver wherever possible. A polished STR crankset anchors the build, paired with raw hardware and unfussy finishes. The head tube logo carries a family name, while the underside of the downtube holds a few personal notes — details no one else needs to see. The spray job is far from perfect, and I like it that way. Combined with a vintage Turbo saddle and Oury tan grips, it feels cohesive without trying too hard.
The bars are Nitto BMX, chosen not for correctness but because I fell in love with the Sale Plus Delta stem. That choice dictated everything else — as good decisions often do.
This bike will continue to change. Parts will move on, others will stay. It does what I need it to do now, and that’s enough.
Sanding:
Stripped down:
Primed then started on a Spray.Bike Whitechapel base:
Custom decals applied:
Personal touches. this was buffed down after.
Final version with pink Sport Pen accents:
