The jeans were never intended to make a statement. At the opening World Cup round of 2019 in Maribor, Johannes wandered into a shop, came across a pair of stretch denim without even looking for them, and simply decided to race in them. No sponsor, no contract – so why not? The run was fast. Fast enough to turn heads. Ben Cathro promptly dubbed him the “Denim Destroyer” on Pinkbike. The name stuck.
Johannes raced as a privateer. Phone in his pocket – not as a joke, but out of necessity. In case the restaurant called. During the week he was a chef, at weekends a racer. No structure behind his undertaking, no safety net. Just talent, composure, and the ability to deliver when it really mattered.
In Leogang, the South Tyrolean started with number 69, qualified 16th and finished 31st in the finals. Wyn Masters handed him the Privateer Award while Johannes already had one foot in his car, heading back to Munich. Work was waiting the next day.
Sporting-wise, 2019 was his strongest year. In Andorra he qualified ninth, between Loïc Bruni and Aaron Gwin, and finished 14th the following day. In Val di Sole he repeatedly missed track walk due to work commitments – and still qualified ninth. Results that stood out in a World Cup context, especially under those circumstances. Doors began to open. From his first club, Tiroler Radler, he moved via GHOST RRP to MS Mondraker. A big step. Suddenly Johannes was part of one of the strongest teams on the circuit, alongside riders like Martin Maes and Wyn Masters. Improvisation was replaced by expectation.
At the end of 2019 came the next move: GT Factory Racing. A proper factory team. Alpinestars, as he puts it, wanted to finally make him “some decent jeans”.
Then the pandemic hit. The 2020 season lost its rhythm, races were cancelled, planning became impossible. 2021 was meant to be his strongest year yet. Physically, Johannes was in the best shape of his life, and ready to challenge at the top. But since around 2017, he had made a quiet deal with himself: he would walk away from downhill racing the moment he either won a World Cup – or suffered another serious injury. Downhill was his hobby, one he happened to be exceptionally good at – but the margin between victory and defeat, injury included, is paper-thin at this level,especially in this sport. At the first get-together after the pandemic, the “Not a Race” event in Schladming, the pact caught up with him: Johannes broke his hip. In the World Cup, that’s not a grey area. It’s a turning point.
During his recovery, he had already opened his first bistro in Bolzano, a project he could now give his full attention to, and wanted to.
At the same time, his disillusionment with the system grew – one in which riders carry the risk while others profit from visibility. Prize money still bears no relation to the sport’s reach, Johannes says, and a robust safety concept in downhill World Cup racing is still missing. In March 2022, aged 26, he drew a clear line. One Instagram post was enough: goodbye to racing, gratitude for the moments, a new chapter.
We visit Johannes at his mountain hut in South Tyrol. We get lost more than once, repeatedly checking Google Maps – difficult with the weak signal. We call him, get the analogue directions. Found.
Johannes greets us in a chef’s apron and jeans. Friendly smile, calm voice. He waves us inside, mixes us a non-alcoholic drink in no time. A blend of Skiwasser and Aperol. Then he sits down with us.
Since the summer of 2022, he has been running the Starkenfeldhütte on the Rodeneck–Lüsner Alp. 2,000 metres above sea level, views of the Dolomites, the Stubai Alps behind him. Dining room, rooms, suites, terrace with jacuzzi, seminar space. Next to the hut, a small dairy. Seventeen cows. His own cheese.
He hosts hikers, mountain bikers and cross-country skiers. Some recognise him. Most don’t. His home trails start directly behind the hut. The best in the region, he says. As he shows us around the alp, the calm is palpable. No split times, no rankings. The bike stands idle more often than it’s ridden. And when he does ride, he sometimes has to wipe the dust off first. Then he drops into his home trails. No crowds, no tape. Just World Cup pace. For himself.
The way he describes the trails makes us curious. We unload the bikes from the rear rack, put on our helmets and grab the camera. Johannes needs five more minutes. The sun is already low. The view feels like Montana. You half expect John Dutton to roll up in his pickup at any moment. We get going, soak in the panorama and look forward to the trails. Johannes, of course, rides in jeans.
Narrow, technical, unmarked – that’s how he likes the trails up here. We follow him into the descent for the first few metres, then he’s gone. A few corners later, he’s waiting at the trailside. Shortly after, he disappears again. Somehow, that was to be expected. Still, we’re having fun – and we understand why Johannes feels at home here. Until…
…the chain snaps.
We push together to a viewpoint. The sun sinks lower, laying a warm, golden carpet over the mountains. These are the moments when you fall silent, pause, and wonder why you don’t actually live here. Once the cold wind blows away the castles in our heads, we put on our jackets and tow Johannes back to the hut on our e-bikes. Because Johannes – just like back then – has to get back to the kitchen.
The scene hasn’t forgotten him. His videos are still being watched. The guy in jeans remains a reference. Not because of a title or a result, but because of his attitude. Johannes von Klebelsberg has shown what life after racing can look like. It’s a decision.
You don’t have to stop. You just have to find a new line.
The competitive instinct, it turns out, never quite went away. For the past two years, Johannes has been a regular at the Erzbergrodeo – little training, jeans, phone in his pocket, naturally. In 2025, he landed 99th. Top 100. Just a hobby, of course. But what a hobby.
Oh, and that perfect downhill jean he found back in Maribor? After years of testing different models, Johannes now sells it online. World Cup-proven and hut-compatible, so to speak. If you’re not into standard race pants, this is where you’ll find what you’re looking for.
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Words: Julian Lemme Photos: Robin Schmitt, Julian Lemme, Sven Martin