Our review of the Raised Reversed stem will not be a normal review. Normal reviews rarely have to overcome such a mountain of very hasty (but very reasonable) skepticism around their products. And those products are rarely so intimately connected with their designer.

Travis brought some of that skepticism to this review, but he also spent a lot of time with that designer. And the experience fundamentally changed the way he thinks about bikes. Needless to say, that’s more than we can put into a review, even if it isn’t a normal one. If you’ve still got questions after reading it, please drop them in the comments.

Until recently, I believed that the mountain bike’s geometry-evolution journey was about to finally reach its destination. Now, I just think it’s pulling over to check the map. Barely a dozen years have passed since the first recorded online utterance of “longer, lower, slacker” in a bike review. Progress during those years was accelerated by universal consensus among major brands, and sufficient consensus among riders. Trail bikes became more aggressive and more capable. But there’s very little consensus around where to go next. So, naturally, when someone suggests a new destination, it might sound a little crazy.

I first met Bronson Moore in October of 2021 while I was covering the twice-rescheduled Sea Otter Classic for another website. He was roaming the expo grounds on his personal bike outfitted with his very unorthodox creation, dubbed the Raised Reversed stem. It brings your handlebars up 150 mm and back 15 mm. Sounds a little crazy, yes. But consider this: Depending on your particular bike, the distance from your bottom bracket to your grips might be exactly the same with a 150 mm by -15 mm Raised Reversed stem as it is with, say, a traditional 0 mm by +40 mm stem. Only the angle changes. Your brain is probably not ready for it, but your body might be.

Raised Reversed Stem Quick Hits:

• Available in 150 mm and 90 mm rise versions
• Both versions have a 15 mm rearward offset, but can be run “backwards” for a forward offset
• 35 mm clamp diameter, with included, integrated 31.8 mm shim
• Machined from 7075 T6511 aluminum
• Made in the USA
• $500 for 150 mm version, $400 for 90 mm version

I will thoroughly cover this bold idea’s bold claims later, but they include better steering dynamics, more optimal weight distribution, and improved traction. Back at that Sea Otter, though, all I got was a spin around the expo lot on Bronson’s bike. My spin only lasted long enough to inspire my seven-word review of “It’s not as weird as you’d think.” But I never got a stem to properly test until now. At the time, Bronson’s company, Be More Bikes, wasn’t yet ready to drop the Raised Reversed stem into the product-review meat grinder. And if I’m being honest, my brain wasn’t ready for it anyway.

When I discussed the Raised Reversed stem with friends working that year’s Sea Otter, thoughts ranged from mild skepticism to utter dismissal. Even my most open-minded colleagues believed a lower, less extreme version might have made the concept easier to swallow. And although I wouldn’t say I was dismissive, I also thought it was a bit much. I had plenty of respect for Bronson’s creativity and courage. I just didn’t want to change my setup. Especially if the change would be so drastic. The two years following that particular Sea Otter would bring me more mileage, more vert, and more KOMs than any time before or since. I was fine, thank you very much. But then came 2024.

Aggravating an old neck injury the previous winter had me moving to a taller stack height. And suffering a new back injury that summer had me going taller still. I’ve since mostly recovered, but I’m keeping my tall stack. I feel more safe and more comfortable than ever. And I’m not the only one who’s been sitting up lately.

Radavist readers might have seen that Spencer adopted higher stack heights in 2024. Radavist readers might not have seen World Cup DH athlete Dakotah Norton’s impressive race season. He famously runs a 75mm-rise handlebar atop 20 mm of spacers on a 200 mm 29” fork. It seems like there’s a change on the wind. Even though the Raised Reversed stem is about much much more than just higher bars, maybe it isn’t actually crazy. Maybe it’s just ahead of its time. And if not, Be More Bikes now does offer a lower, less extreme version that might be easier to swallow. So finally, I think both my brain and my body are ready.

Bronson and I met up for a ride on my home turf in the San Gabriel Mountains north of Los Angeles. He currently lives in The Big City, but he grew up in the foothill community of Altadena. Bronson’s dad is the founder of a company called MIP, who designs and manufactures high-end remote-control car parts and tools. Bronson was exposed to the techy world of off-road vehicles at a young age, and was particularly fascinated with suspension. He’d use Legos and rubber bands to experiment with various concepts. And he’d occasionally disassemble some of the family’s ball-point pens to repurpose their tiny springs.

A pivotal moment came when his mom happened to be driving him past a popular mountain-bike trailhead in Altadena, and Bronson saw someone compressing their full-suspension bike. It hadn’t occurred to him that bikes could even have suspension. He was already pretty fascinated with bikes, and would eventually put in countless miles riding with the Boy Scouts on a front-suspended mountain bike he inherited from his sister. That later exposed him to cyclocross racing, local mountain-bike clubs, and finally, competing in DH at the Southridge Race Series about 50 miles east of LA. Since the ‘90s, SRC has hosted several events each year for pros, beginners, men, women, old, and young.

And Bronson definitely was young. He got his first dedicated downhill bike—a used high-pivot Canfield Jedi—in 7th grade. I mean, he still is young. He’s 24 at the time of writing this. But he was hitting Bike-Life milestones in grade school and middle school that I didn’t hit until I had a driver’s license. And as a teenager, he was studying bike-design pioneers I didn’t learn of until I was over the hill. This is just a theory, but I think it’s no coincidence that’s the kid who went on to conceive the Raised Reversed stem. Youthful inhibition makes for open minds.

Bronson’s mind is uniquely open. He told me his early experiments with handlebar position sometimes weren’t even targeted at any one particular goal. They were just experiments. Much like in his Legos, rubber bands, and pen springs, Bronson saw the endless possibilities in his stem, bar, and spacers. There was even a brief period when he ran his handlebar upside-down and backwards just to learn how an extremely low front end would handle. But he would eventually go the other direction.

Bronson would try running various length stems in reversed, and on various sized bikes. He installed steerer-tube extenders meant for comfort bikes, and direct-mount stems meant for dual-crown forks. And the setups pictured above aren’t even the craziest he tried. He’s gone well above, below, behind, and beyond the position he would eventually land on for the Raised Reversed stem. Bronson asked that I make it clear in this article that those early DIY configurations are not safe for aggressive riding. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I doubt anyone would ever want to. But I don’t picture Bronson being bothered by how others judge his methods. And anyway, this was all just a means to an end.

Bronson learned 3D modeling in SolidWorks and Fusion360. Using the CNC machine at the RC-car-part factory, he made his first prototype in June of 2021. He later hired an expert in finite element analysis to evaluate and improve the stem’s strength. Virtual models show that it goes beyond ISO standards for a downhill stem, though as of writing this, no Raised Reversed stem has yet been sent out for official certification. Bronson went into commercial production by essentially renting time on that CNC machine, and milling down giant billets of 7075 T6511 aluminum into his giant stems. Manufacturing each stem requires a lot of time and material, both of which are expensive. So, the stems are expensive, too. The 150 mm version retails for $500, and the new 90 mm version goes for $400.

I don’t want to gloss over that part, and neither does Bronson. He had originally hoped to land closer to half that price. A major disadvantage here is his small scale of production, but it’s also a major benefit. He’s in totally uncharted territory, so it’s important to stay agile. If something needs to change, he can change it quickly. And he was able to add the 90 mm version without taking on loads of extra debt. It also is very nicely made. Although I wouldn’t call it traditionally attractive, it’s outstandingly thoughtful. There’s ample room for spacers above the steerer clamp, with a nice, very shallow recess so things don’t slide around during installation. And the flush integration of the included 35 / 31.8 shim is pure art. But even if it were traditionally attractive, you can’t really judge the Raised Reversed stem’s price like you would that of a Paul or Hope stem. It creates a dynamic change in your bike’s behavior, almost like a suspension component. Or at least, that’s the idea. So, let’s talk about it.

Raised Reversed Stem Introduction and Orientation

Bronson brought both the 150 and 90 mm models with him to our first ride together. And I brought my Canyon Spectral 125, an aggressive moderate-travel trail bike. I dove in head-first with the 150 mm stem, which is what he recommended for my height. He then went on to make more recommendations. As soon as I pulled my bike off the tailgate, he was squeezing my tires and asking me about my suspension settings. He wasn’t judging, although I could see some people taking it that way. He just wanted to learn about my preferences because the Raised Reversed stem was about to challenge every one of them.

Once I’d bolted on the stem, Bronson asked to hop on my bike. As he squished and swerved, I could almost see the equations orbiting around his head as he was thinking about what he’d change. He suggested some tweaks to tire pressure, maybe an extra few clicks of high-speed compression damping … and dropping 20 PSI from my fork. 20 PSI! From 98 down to 78. I thought that was insane, but I guess it made sense. In the era of modern geometry, we’re supposed to lean forward to maintain traction. That requires a firmer preload on the fork. Although you still can lean on a Raised Reversed stem, leaning should no longer be the driving mantra around body positioning. There are actually a lot of different mantras to keep in your head when adapting to this thing. The first one I considered was what Bronson describes as “riding through your feet,” but that’s more of a downhill technique. So, I’ll talk about it later. Our ride started with an uphill, albeit a gentle one.

Climbing

Even if I wasn’t sitting quite bolt upright in my saddle, it sure felt like it. Still, I didn’t sense it was putting me at a significant power disadvantage on our first moderate climb. I suppose it helped that we were keeping a conversational pace. In fact, the whole ride was pretty conversational. Bronson is overflowing with theories, research, and stories about bike behavior and geometry. But the conversation got more labored as we turned off the pavement. With less of my core weight hanging over my driving pedal strokes, I had to pull back on my bent arms to direct force towards the cranks. Not only did that feel unfamiliar, but it introduced a nagging strain in my triceps. I suppose those muscles might strengthen over time, but it sure felt less efficient. This is a good time to mention these photos were taken long after my first ride with Bronson, and only with the shorter 90 mm stem that I’ll talk about later, but it still illustrates my points.

Particularly steep and technical climbs were also compromised, but not in a way that bothered me as much. Those types of anaerobic climbs don’t last very long in my world. I gain most of my elevation via steady, honest mashing. But when navigating my way over loose or rocky terrain, my chest hovered low and my elbows bent sharply. It didn’t feel optimal. Surprisingly, though, that never once caused me to fail a section. I cleaned every challenging climb I encountered, except for the ones I chose to walk. By the way, I often choose to walk if I think it’ll save energy. I got nothin’ to prove. But Bronson does. So, he took on any widowmaker that had a clear view of the top. And he cleaned a couple of them. I only cleaned the ones I normally ride. The Raised Reversed stem never helped those efforts, but it also never ruined them.

Descending

When I was simply holding a line at speed, the “Raised” part of the Raised Reversed stem was immediately easy to get used to. Even though my trails aren’t that steep, my neck, back, and arms were more comfortable and relaxed. Of course, I’m talking about a literally straight-forward scenario, paired with the stem’s most surface-level trait. In a couple more paragraphs, this review is gonna get twisty and deep. But simply regarding whether 150 mm is too much extra height to actually be helpful on the downhill, I found it was surprisingly quite reasonable.

It did make dropping my saddle a little awkward, though. With my hands anchored so high and close, my hips had to do a weird motion to get my dropper to the ground floor. To be fair, I’ve got a 220 mm post. It felt ok until I reached that last 10% of travel, so that may be a tall-person problem. Plus, my local descents are long, and are always dotted with short seated climbs. So, I encountered the dropper issue quite often. But it was kinda like that tricep fatigue I was feeling on the climbs. Ergonomically, it’s not ideal, but I could see myself developing the muscle-memory to cope with it over time.

There was a quicker fix to the next issue I noticed. I was unexpectedly bottoming out my rear suspension more often than usual. My shock doesn’t have multiple fancy blue knobs to add complex damping support, so I added some extra pressure instead. It successfully kept the rear end from getting overwhelmed with no noticeable impact on bump sensitivity. It’s the flipside of the pressure I removed on my fork. That’s where things started getting interesting; My fork’s sensitivity improved significantly, and I still never ever came close to bottoming it out. I can see why Bronson made it a priority to cover this part right out of the gate. With less preload to overcome, I noticed a significant improvement in both grip and comfort at my bike’s front end. That “lean forward for traction” method gets disrupted with a Raised Reversed stem. In fact, the whole body-bike relationship gets disrupted.

Understanding and Adapting

One reasonable assumption about a reversed-offset stem is that anchoring your hands behind the steering axis would be inherently unstable. Logically, you could picture a sort of upside-down-pendulum effect that you’d have to fight. But even with a modern traditional stem, many mountain bikers already do anchor our hands behind our steering axis. A short stem holding a wide bar with a traditional backsweep might put its tips (where most of the weight is concentrated) behind the steerer tube. And off-road motorcycles have been even further back for decades.

Bronson has an interesting theory on why this doesn’t cause instability. It’s based on a measurement he calls “hand lead.” It’s the distance, measured perpendicular to the steering axis, between where the hands meet the grips, and where the tire meets the ground. Because the tire meets the ground several inches behind the steering axis, his theory suggests there’s a lot of room to move our hands back before we feel any of that upside-down-pendulum effect. The head tube is not a fixed point in space. It will freely sway left and right as we turn our bars. So, there is merit to Bronson’s theory. But I found that using it to my advantage was a challenge.

When I tried to ride like I normally do, I would sometimes understeer on sharper turns. Not necessarily because my front wheel was sliding, but because the bike wanted to fight my tendency to “dive” my body and bike into a turn together. I usually sorta lean first and pull the bike with me. It’s a forceful, dynamic action where I control the front and rear wheels independently. I lean forward and inwards to initiate the turn, and I unweight the rear wheel to let it drift if necessary.

But riding The Raised Reversed Way means handling the bike as one object, and letting it move more freely beneath you. Here’s where that “riding through your feet” thing comes into play. You stay more centered on the bike, and you move it around beneath you to initiate the lean. As I followed Bronson, I saw that he doesn’t turn like I turn. He leans the bike much more than I do, and those leans happen more swiftly. This method is one of the signature selling points for the stem, and one of the most polarizing.

Bronson didn’t invent this concept. And you don’t need a Raised Reversed stem to put it into practice. Though his interpretation of it sometimes looks more extreme, you’ll often see pro racers cornering in a similar way. The idea is to help the tires’ edge knobs get a firmer bite, and to allow the ground to better “scoop” the leading face of the front tire. It pulls you into a turn instead of pushing you out of it. I find it also magnifies the bike’s response as I turned my bars. Kinda like increasing mouse sensitivity on my computer.

Introducing a Raised Reversed stem to this method does a few things. Most notably, when the bike leans more inward around a turn than my body did, the stem’s rearward offset lifted me higher instead of pulling me lower. That means my body can stay more neutral. It also means I can stay lighter on my hands, requiring less force to make micro-adjustments to bike and bar angle. And I managed to make it work to my advantage … sometimes.

After my first ride, I did several thousand more feet of climbing and descending on the 150 mm stem, sometimes riding (and chatting) with Bronson, other times solo. Either way, those long conversations were always on my mind. It took a lot of unlearning, but keeping my body upright while leaning the bike over had its moments. I even came to add 20 mm of spacers under the stem after initially running it slammed. It allowed me to commit further to this method because I could keep my core from feeling like it was going to collapse if I turned too sharply, or if I suddenly lost traction.

Given the right conditions, I managed to reduce front-wheel slide through thoughtful leaning. I could carry more speed and traction around tight turns. But it was an emotional tightrope walk. I’ve been riding mountain bikes for 30 years, so change isn’t easy. Also, managing that “high mouse sensitivity” takes some practice. The stars didn’t always align for me, though it was a remarkable feeling when they did.

But it was my central weight distribution that was the most noteworthy. I was eventually “riding through my feet,” with my arms much more relaxed than I’m used to. I remember once swerving around a highside boulder with the “whole-bike” motion I witnessed while following Bronson. It’s an odd feeling. My arms were more bent than usual, and they bore very little weight. It’s almost unsettling, initially. “Feeble” was how I first described the feeling. Because I was used to exerting a lot more force to perform those maneuvers. I caught glimpses of the stem’s promise, where good handling takes less effort and less strain. It was an entirely new way to interact with my bike.

And the Be More Bikes Instagram page is full of folks test-riding a Raised Reversed stem, who are feeling some of those glimpses I just described. And there are anecdotes of riders setting Personal Records on their first runs. Bronson regularly sells out on his product runs, and as yet, as not had anyone try to return one. With time, I could see myself abandoning much of what I’d learned and exploring this whole new world.

… But I’m not going to.

Here’s the thing. The 150 mm Raised Reversed stem is clearly designed for riders who prioritize downhill performance. Namely, downhill speed. With that, of course, comes safety and stability, both of which I highly value. But sometimes, there is such a thing as too much safety and stability. Personally, I like engaging with my front and rear wheels independently. And I like my arms to share a meaningful amount of the load with my legs. I’m a bit of an outlier, living with a knee injury that will only get worse as I age, but I found that particular knee was unusually sore after two of my longer days of descending with the stem.

I also happen to ride in an area where most of my favorite trails don’t always allow for the speed or style that a Raised Reversed stem is optimized for. Trails are narrow, off-camber, and exposed. And they’re pretty straight, requiring only subtle (but crucial) changes in direction to stay on the fastest, safest, or funnest line. Most of the actual “turns” I encounter are no-flow 180-degree switchbacks. None are engineered, bermed or shaped in any thoughtful way. There’s usually limited room to lean the bike for optimal traction. That’s especially true when the bars are so much higher, and therefore, lean so much closer to the inside of a turn.

And then there’s the climbing. The Raised Reversed stem’s DH bias was clear there, too. To be fair, I meant it when I said it didn’t put steep climbs off-limits. Same with when I said that leisurely paced climbs were almost unaffected. I think “leisurely” is the preferred climbing pace for a lot of downhillers. They aren’t timed on the uphill. But I like to get a lot done in a day, and the extreme upright posture made it difficult to put out the power that I wanted to. Although I believe that the habits encouraged by this stem could someday make me a faster descender, those habits may not always be compatible with me, my tastes or my trails.

I hope you keep reading, though.  Even if those habits aren’t compatible with you, either, I haven’t gotten to the part about the 90 mm version. That’s the part where I was forever changed.

The 90 mm Raised Reversed Stem

This shorter stem wasn’t necessarily designed to meet skeptics like me halfway. It was designed for riders who might not fit the 150. That mostly means short riders. It especially means short riders whose bikes have long front travel. I’m 6’2” riding a 140 mm fork. Someone 5’7 riding a 170 mm fork might seek a more moderate path. Immediately after bolting the 90 on my bike, I realized Bronson was 100% correct that I wasn’t this stem’s target audience.

My bike felt small, which makes sense. It made my bottom-bracket-to-bar length over 20 mm shorter than either with a traditional cockpit, or with the 150 mm stem. I took it on one quick loop, but I won’t bore you with the details. The life-changing part is what happened just before it ended.

Raised Reversed … UN-Reversed

I’ve been on a real journey with cockpit setup in the past couple years. From a flat stem, to a top-load stem, to my drastically raised Ergotec stem. And I think I found the next logical step. Although the “Reversed” part of the Raised Reversed stem is important to its mission, there’s no reason you can’t flip it forward. That changes the -15 mm offset to +15 mm. It would still put my hands well behind my steering axis. So, before my lap on the 90 mm stem was done, I flipped it forward. And it was pure magic.

Turns out that, with 10 mm of spacers beneath a 90 mm by +15 mm Raised Reversed stem, I landed right on my preferred bottom-bracket-to-bar length. And unsurprisingly, it split the difference between what I liked about my old cockpit, and what I liked about the 150 mm by -15 mm Raised Reversed stem.

I suffered none of the climbing inhibitions I felt with the 150, though I’m sure that some riders would. Low stack heights have their place, even though they’re not for me. I reckon it helps to have your weight low and forward if you’re doing short-track XCO races. But when I’m just trying to polish off the last 1,000 feet to the peak, then shred to the bottom before I need my lights, this forward configuration of the Raised Reversed stem didn’t hinder my climbing in the slightest. In fact, I felt much more comfortable doing long days than I did on my previous, already very tall stem.

And descending, I’d equate my first moments on the 90 mm by +15 mm to my first moments on a full-suspension 29er. Obstacles felt more manageable, maneuvers felt more calm, and overall, I felt safer. It required less physical and mental effort to stay in control. It made a tangible, qualitative improvement in how my bike felt. But for the sake of science, I briefly re-installed my Ergotec stem before continuing the test. Sure enough, I felt unnecessarily low and stretched. In just one ride, my standards for comfort and control have been completely recalibrated. But that’s not the only way I’ve changed.

Over the following couple weeks on this stem, my riding style evolved. I‘ve maintained my engaged, forceful relationship with my front end, but it’s become slightly less forceful. I can twitch the bike more easily because I can keep my arms more bent and my weight more centered. Simultaneously, I’m starting to do some of that new-school lean when the environment allows it.

Though my body weight isn’t as neutral as it was on the 150 mm by -15 mm stem, it’s less over-committed than when I tried it with my old cockpit. I feel safer, and therefore, I go faster. The 90 mm by +15 mm setup pairs perfectly with the trails I ride, and with how I ride them. It also pairs perfectly with my bike. And that got me thinking.

Ahead Of Its Time

Bronson and I bonded over our frustration that the mountain bike still hasn’t completely shed the road-bike DNA that infiltrated it in the late ’80s and early ’90s. Our sport’s cross-country original sin still haunts us, though the early 90s XC boom is far from “original.” The first people to ride bikes off-road were adventurers, not marathoners. And the ones who raced them, raced them downhill. Today’s bikes might look quite different if we had stuck with the spirit of the ’70s. It helps to think of the Raised Reversed stem in that context.

It’s an attempt at a hard reset. And maybe my nitpicks on the 150 mm by -15 mm stem would be fewer if the entire bike I bolted it to could get its own reset. I’d think differently about head angle, front-center, and most significantly, chainstay length. If I wanted to make the most of what the full-sized stem offers, I’d want to try it on a different machine. That’s why I think it’s so monumental. Even if it’s not right for me—at least not now—it got me thinking. What could happen if there were more free-thinking in our industry? Hopefully we’ll start to find out. I know for a fact that Bronson has more crazy ideas on the way.

150 mm Pros:

• Not as weird as you’d think
• Can be run with forward or rearward offset
• Makes a trail bike feel as safe in the steeps as a downhill bike
• Allows for relaxed-but-ready arm position, especially in turns
• Lower fork preload increases comfort and traction
• Encourages and rewards more precise cornering methods
• Still offers traditional height adjustability, with spacers above or below
• Thoughtful design and craftsmanship

150 mm Cons:

• Sustained, high-torque climbing may be more fatiguing
• Demands some changes in the way you ride
• Not optimal for flat or undulating terrain
• Expensive

90 mm Pros:

• Not as weird as you’d think
• Can be run with forward or rearward offset
• Better than the 150 mm version for shorter riders, or for those with tall stack heights
• In the forward position, it splits the difference between a traditional cockpit and the 150 mm version
• Still offers traditional height adjustability, with spacers above or below
• Thoughtful design and craftsmanship

90 mm Cons:

• In the rearward position, it doesn’t split the difference between a traditional cockpit and the 150 mm version
• Still demands some changes in the way you ride
• Expensive

See more at Be More Bikes