Tested: Hutchinson Griffus 2.4 and 2.5

Innovative yet practical, the Griffus 2.4 and 2.5 were designed to maximize traction in dry conditions.

Author:
Travis Engel
Jul 18, 2019

I don’t like reviewing tires. I like testing them. I like the anticipation of riding something that’s better than what I rode before. But tires rarely elicit much emotion. That's unlike, say, a spirited short-travel 27.5-inch trail bike might or an uncommonly comfortable pair of shoes, or even a cleverly designed hydration pack. I find myself sounding like a bullshit wine critic when I try and get all deep and touchy-feely when talking about tires, so I just don’t bother. And I won’t bother doing that here. Because I don’t have to. Hutchinson’s Griffus tires just work. I’ll explain where and how, but there’s some why to cover first.

Hutchinson is not known for its aggressive mountain tires. The French brand is more into its feathery cross-country tires and feathery-er road tires, leaving it relatively thin on aggressive options. Until the Griffus 2.4 and 2.5 came out, Hutchinson’s burliest rubber was the DZO, which is about as muddy and spiky as a mud spike can get. But the Griffus 2.4 and 2.5 are meant for the opposite end of the moisture spectrum. That’s not something you often hear. I don’t actually mean the phrase “moisture spectrum,” though I regret I may never have a reason to say it again. I mean you don’t often hear about tires designed for dry terrain. Sure, semi-slick tires are designed for dry terrain, as are most shallow-tread designs, but there aren’t many traditionally burly, dry-specific options for those of us living in regions that happen to be ahead of the climate change curve. That’s exactly where the Griffus tires are meant to roll.

Notice, I’m saying “tires.” As in more than one tire. The Griffus is available in two widths; 2.4 and 2.5, but they’re not the same tread. The 2.4 has moderately deep, aggressively ramped narrow-ish center paddle knobs not totally unlike a Maxxis DHR. The 2.5-inch version has broad, square center knobs that are a little like those of the DHF. So, it follows that the Griffus 2.4 is meant for the rear and the 2.5 is meant for the front. But as we’ve learned about those aforementioned Maxxis tires, riders don’t like to be told what to do. You’ll often see DHFs spec’d in the rear and DHRs up front, and Hutchinson wanted riders to have the same freedom with the Griffus.What makes the Griffus a dry-specific tire isn’t very mysterious or high-tech. It’s actually kinda practical. These tires know the ground isn’t going to let the knobs sink into it, so they’re not especially sharp or tall or far apart. But at the same time, they know there’s not much traction to be had, so they maximize what little biting surface area there may be between knob and ground. On both front and rear, every other set of center knobs has a concave biting edge to get just a little extra purchase and to stay stable under braking load. And on the front, that edge is parallel with that of each of the side knobs, effectively extending the paddle across the tire’s entire width. Instead of assuming the knobs will be able to dig into the soil, it at least gives them a fighting chance to hold on to what’s there.

The triple-compound Griffus has a firm, 94a durometer rubber as a base, 50a durometer at the center and 40a on the sides. That’s definitely on the softer side, but the Griffus tires are not silly putty to the touch. And the $80 tires have worn relatively well despite being bolted to three different bikes for a relatively busy month, though those aren't the only three bikes I've ridden over that period. Oh, the life of a gear tester. Holding all that up is Hutchinson’s 66-TPI Hardskin casing. And it’s not light. My 2.5-inch tire weighs in at 1,120 grams and the 2.4 at 1,045. But back to that dry-specific-ness, if you’re going to run gravity-specific tires in the dry, you’ll probably be hitting mostly sharp-edged rocks of various sizes, so that unreasonable weight starts to seem pretty reasonable.And though I did feel the weight, I’ve actually felt slower climbing with lighter but deeper-knobbed tires than I did when running the Griffus 2.4 on the rear. Their weight didn’t bother me until I tested them on a YT Jeffsy, which is best served light and lively. And even then, it was only on the descents. But on the Stumpjumper Evo and my personal Scott Ransom, they fit right in. On the 30-millimeter inner-width rims I ran, I ended up down at 26 PSI rear and 22 front and still found them to be plenty slashable.

And on those rims and at that pressure, the 2.4 was 62.0 millimeters at the casing and the 2.5 was 63.5. I like to run 2.6-inch tires up front whenever possible, and Hutchinson's 2.5 is within one millimeter of a 2.6 from Bontrager, Continental, WTB and Schwalbe, and is actually a fraction of a millimeter wider than a 2.6-inch Maxxis DHF. So, they should suffice for fellow wide-or-die riders.In fact, since Hutchinson sent me two sets, I ran a 2.5 both front and rear for a spell. While I liked the novelty of running such a burly wide tire in the rear, I didn’t find that setup to suit the Griffus’ strengths. If I wanted a soft, floaty experience in the rear, I could get it with a lighter tire. I found the little extra lateral stiffness of running the 2.4 out back was a better fit for what these tires are capable of. Also, I wanted all the efficiency I could get, and I liked the little extra ease in sliding the 2.4 around. I could have also tried 2.4 front and rear, but if it's within 100 grams, I’m not going to voluntarily give up front traction, so I didn’t try.

And that traction didn’t want to be given up. There may have been a bit of confirmation bias thanks to what I already knew about the dry-specific intentions within the Griffus (confirmation bias being an especially hard thing to rise above when testing tires), but as I said at the outset, they just work. I didn’t feel any squirm or sluggishness on rock and hardpack like I sometimes do with deeper-tread, all-weather tires. But the casing is anything but harsh. It was the knobs themselves that gave the Griffus that torsional predictability, not an unyielding casing. And predictable would be the ultimate distillation of how I feel about the Griffus 2.4 and 2.5. I warned you at the outset that I wasn’t going to divine any fancy nuanced interpretations of my time on these tires. Again, they work. They work well enough that they’ll stay on the Stumpy Evo until I need to give it back. It’s a bike that’s thrashable enough that I don’t want plush 2.6-inch airbags, but I want something that’s stout and forgiving. Forgiveness is a trait I long for in the dry season, because the trails sure aren’t offering it. And honestly, I love that about this time of year. While the idealized images of riding destinations in the Pacific Northwest feature soft, wet loam, it’s easy to forget how fun desert riding is. Traction is hard to come by, but it’s there. And while the Griffus tires didn’t lay a ribbon of hero dirt in front of me, they truly make the most of what I’ve got.