Winding down the West Coast Summer

It’s been a couple months since I started this, well, couple-month block of racing and traveling...  Inevitably, every summer there is a big chunk of racing smack in the middle.  As there should be, the weather in the Northern Hemisphere is typically perfect, everyone is keyed in on summer pastimes involving bikes and it’s just the right thing to do.  That said, it’s always good to see the approach of fall and slightly mellower times.  As I work on this transition back to Mountain Biking in the Mountains, the summer race block gets ever more complicated.  This last month and change has included amazing riding in legendary places and racing on some of the best terrain in the world.  It has also included some pretty ridiculous travel and plenty of equipment and logistical headaches compounded by solid fatigue.  We’ll just focus on the good parts, maybe with a few struggling anecdotes for good measure and so y’all don’t think it’s just all fun and games around here…  Not to mention The Olympic Games, which also happened for two hard-working Americans.

I’ve always said that you’ve got to be in great shape in order to dig deep enough to actually make your body genuinely fatigued.  I was in shape at World Cup Finals.  That, which was quite satisfying, has left me proper tired for the next two weeks.  Having 48 hours at home between the France trip and the Downieville/Link/Whistler/Chilcotins trip was just enough time to scramble and develop the beginnings of a cold.  Perfect.  There was also enough time to drop off my XTC Hardtail at Sunnyside Sports to get torn down and re-built on a Reign X frame for the Crankworx Enduro.  While at the shop, I ran into Carl Decker’s roommate and pro triathlete Matt Lieto.  He high-fived me on the good World Cup race and joked that I should “take it easy” on Carl at Downieville this weekend.  That wouldn’t be a problem. 

Carl is also in an interesting transitional period in his career.  The Giant Factory Team has shifted it’s focus to Enduro and Marathon events, so Carl, who loves aggressive mountain biking but is also quite happy training on his road bike and racing XC, has ended up doing a bunch of what amounts to downhill stage racing.  He’s been a touch off the pace on the burly stuff…  I was also secretly pulling for him at Downieville, knowing he races well there and that he could use a little boost to his summer of racing. 

There was someone else pulling for him in Downieville too.  As the cross-country race rolled off the pavement and started the fifty-minute climb up the Sierra Buttes, Junior National Champ Keegan Swenson went to the front and gave ‘er like only a junior who hasn’t yet ridden the climb can.  (Ed. Note, on account of my long publishing timeline, I can report on Keegan’s 5^th place ride at Junior World Championships in Austria last weekend.  Dang, that’s strong work.)  Carl eventually left the excitable youngster and went on to win the XC for the third year in a row.  I got around Keegan as we dropped into Baby Heads, which gave me the honor of finishing second to Carl, again.

An even higher honor was bestowed upon me a few meters shy of the finish line when I was suddenly covered in beer.  From someone’s mouth.  I looked at my assailant, expecting to see one of Mark Weir’s cronies, but it was just some random derelict.  He was working on a Wizard Staff (taping empty beer cans atop one another) that was about waist high at 11am...  So I requested his staff, took a swig, and returned the favor.  Turns out, according to Mike Ferrentino (knower of all things mountain bike underworld) this guy, named Darrin, used to race for the Retrotec team.  Those jerks knew how to party…  Fortunately, my new friend Darrin still does.  He ended up making quite the Staff, and quite the scene, before ultimately getting Tazed, twice, for exposing himself at the bar, and dragged off to jail.  Which was actually the first time anyone’s ever actually been arrested at the Downieville Classic.  Impressive. 

We all know it’s all about the Downhill in Downieville.  Carl most of all, after coming up short the last couple years.  I woke up feeling ever crappier and was happy to see Carl decently chipper, for 7am…  We were both wondering how the day would shake out.  Last year’s winner, Aaron Bradford, was in town and is always quick, and Moeschler can never be counted out, but we also had the wildcard of Frenchman Jerome Clementz.  Dude is fast, but how fast?  Not as fast as Carl.  He laid down the fastest time of the day, which was only a few seconds up on perennial challenger Jason Moeschler’s.  I fogged my way down the hill unsure of whether I rode smooth and fast or just lazy and slow.  It was the latter.  5^th place, which I should’ve probably sacrificed to silence some impressively cowardly hecklers at the bottom of First Divide the old-fashioned way…

Josh Carlson looks for incoming as Jake snaps some photos on Third Divide. Super safe.

Regardless of competitive success, the riding in Downieville is the definition of classic, as are the folks who put on the event.  It would’ve been nice to stick around and relax, go for a swim, ride the Lakes Basin, etc.  But, onwards and northwards.  We had a flight to catch.  From Bend.  On Monday morning.  At 5:30am.  The drive home started at 5:30pm from Downieville.  It’s seven hours, in my car, hauling ass.  Carl and Kelli were in Carl’s new (to him) ’91 VW Vanagon.  They didn’t sleep much…  Josh Carlson and I got home in time to sleep for about 2 hours before driving the final half hour to the airport.  Destination- Vail, Colorado. 

Giant shows our beloved dealers a good time, and new bikes, once a year.  The location varies but is inevitably in a spot that has solid riding potential.  After a long trip and early wakeup call the freshly rained upon trails accessed by Vail’s Gondola were a sight for sore eyes.  While there is plenty of business completed at The Link, the main reason folks come is to ride.  And ride we did.  Road rides up Vail pass (which I secretly wished I could do one of) and all manner of idyllic Rocky Mountain singletrack on the mountain kept folks entertained.  Which is what we were there to do as well.  Riding with our dealers is a good time, some of ‘em shred, some of them are just getting into bikes, but they all are stoked to be out.  Us too. 

Not for long though, the summer whirlwind continued for us North American Giant folks.  After a hilarious/tragic dueling pianos accompanied dinner, we struck back to the Denver Airport.  Destination this time- The Great White North.  Crankworx Whistler was warming up and we were slated to compete in the Canadian Open Enduro on Saturday.  This left Thursday and Friday to try and learn four different race courses (I thought Enduro was supposed to be raced blind?) and get our brains to work at the level necessary to blaze through the infamous Whistler Bike Park and down some lesser-known gems.  In retrospect, folks also needed to learn the routes to Transit between the four stages, as time was of the essence. 

A misunderstanding with the eleventh-hour communication of start times for each stage set off a chain reaction resulting in a whole lot of folks missing their start times.  Which, at most of our North American Enduros, doesn’t really matter, they just assign you a new one.  Not here in Whistler, the clock starts on your minute, regardless of your presence.  The transits between stage 1-2 and 2-3 were tight on time, but completely doable if you had a plan.  There was a whole lot of moaning about this, so I took a poll of my peers. 

           

            The question- “Do you have a watch?”

            The answer for 2/3 of the sample pool- “No, why do I need a watch?”

            Because you’re at a goddamn timed competitive event where it might be helpful to know what time it is, since you have a start time to adhere to… How many times do you have to say “time” before lazy-assed mountain bikers think having a watch might clever?  I’m just bitter because the Rally Car racing community LOVES their watches and will smote down upon you with limitless vengeance if you’re late.  Or early for that matter.  Them’s the rules, you’d better learn…

Top of the World Trail.  The start of 18 minutes of amazing on Stage 4.

Anyway, most of the contenders in the men’s race were on time to stages 2 and 3, so it didn’t really affect our results.  Jerome Clementz won with an impressive run in stage four, which was an all-downhill test from the tippy-top of Whistler Peak.  A genuinely challenging stage with amazing variety of trail, from alpine singletrack to bike park chunder.  Our frothing youngster Josh Carlson won what I’d consider the most diverse stage, which also has the best name.  Blackcomb Mountain’s Golden Boner.  I was third in this, just a couple seconds off the pace.  But I was WAY off the pace in the final stage, compounded by a small crash that resulted in a wardrobe malfunction.  Namely, my pants fell off.  Oops…  I still managed 6^th overall, so, solid, but not quite the mixing it with the fast guys I’d hoped for.  Need to work on that ability to ride at DH bike pace on a trail bike…

The women’s race was a bit more of a mash-up with the times.  A couple locals were on time and the rest was a bit grim.  Rabobank/Giant teammate Rosara Joseph put in another impressive ride, winning the Golden Boner stage by 40 seconds but losing 3:30 on the first transit to finish second overall.  What could’ve been…  To her credit, she did have a watch…  Overall, the Crankworx Enduro is the most diverse, interesting, challenging event of this discipline I’ve had the pleasure of contesting.  Here’s to riding more downhill and moto, picking up that last little bit of pace to be in the mix when it gets hairy…   

Next up- the middle of nowhere. 

A Beaver's-eye view of the Chilcotin through the lens of one Sterling Lorence.  Love your work.

We’ve been working on the Trance X 29 for quite some time now, over a year since the first prototype.  It’s a great bike.  And we finally got to show it to the Media in possibly the most perfect setting imaginable.  The South Chilcotin Mountains lie a few hours north of Whistler, on the east side of the Coast Range.  Dale from Tyax Adventures will happily, for a nominal fee, use his ’61 De Haviland “Beaver” float plane to transport you and your bike buddies up to one of the myriad alpine lakes above their lodge.  Then, it’s a lifetime of old prospecting trails to ride back down.  Seems like a good place to take a mountain bike for a test ride.  And we did.  The editorial crew was comprised of entirely strong riders, most of whom were in town for Crankworx and on the shred program anyway.  Fun was had, bikes were discussed, guides were pumped for more info on the area (thanks, Adrian and Emily.)  We only had a day out in the hills, but it was enough to know that a return trip with plenty of time and provisions is necessary someday. 

It was a pleasure to shoot with Sterling in his adopted backyard.  Beautiful country...

Hmm, after the lovely Chilcotin bookend to our busy summer season, what’s happened?  Oh yeah, I haven’t left the state of Oregon for a few weeks.  But there’s still been plenty of action…  I sometimes wonder if Bend really is the perfect place to live for a bike rider.  Equidistant to California and British Columbia, but with plenty going on close to home. 

A little Metolius-Windigo Trail action above Sisters.  This is currently on fire.  Sad to see it go, it was in the best shape ever after a bunch of Oregon Enduro Series trails work.  Thanks, guys.

The Oregon Enduro Series held it’s final two rounds on August 26 and September 8-9 in Sisters and on the flanks of Mount Hood.  They were very different events, showcasing the variety of riding in our little state.  I won the scrappy, raw Sisters event and got smoked on the high-speed, committing, DH-style Mount Hood.  Guess the Oregon pedal/coast racing win streak is over for me.  Josh Carlson might be starting his own streak, as he sort of DOMINATED the Hood weekend to win the series overall in grand style.  I’m glad I’ve gotten to see that guy ride a motocross bike, as it gives valuable insight into how brutally he attacks every inch of trail.  A must for this kind of racing.  Let’s do a winter exchange, Frother, I’ll give you a touch of diesel restraint and you work on my Race Gas consumption… 

I was trying hard enough at Sandy Ridge to end up with fir boughs in my CTD lever...  

Last but not least was our second year of backyard Marathon National Championships.  Myself and Carl had the #1 and #2 plates on our bikes from last year’s runaway 1-2.  And we actually had sufficient time to prepare for their defense.  The course was way better this year, taking in some of Bend’s finest trails and climbing up to 7000’ along the Cascade Crest.  It was at this point, actually, that I liked my chances of a title defense.  My clever line choices on the biggest climb and descent had opened a gap on perennial challenger Todd Wells and I was alone at the front.  I missed Carl, but was glad to not have the prospect of a sprint finish with him…  Fast-forward a couple hours and my impressively bonked, flimsy carcass was unable to sprint with Carl, except this time it was for 2^nd place.  Todd had ridden away after I exhausted the last of my bag of tricks (riding up the Octupus Log on Funner) and was no longer able to stay in front of him and ride at 200 watts, hoping he didn’t notice my (painfully obvious) grenaded state…  It’s almost easier to lose a title defense when you’re so incredibly blown that there’s no possible recourse.  Hats off, Todd. 

Carl and I were really tired after...

And damn fine work at the London Games, I’m proud of you and Sam Schultz for finally ending our “Americans riding like poo” streak at the Olympics.  10^th and 15^th are right in there.  And while we’re at it, sweet that Georgia Gould got a bronze medal.  That’ll keep the stoke high for all those XC pinners out there coming up through the ranks.  Pedaling bikes hard is a good time. 

Speaking of good times and hard pedaling, I’m on a plane to Nice, France as I wind up this summer narrative.  About to wind up the mountain bike season at Trans Provence.  Much like that float plane trip into the wilds of BC, I’ve been looking forward to this event since I signed up last fall.  It’s going to be pretty amazing to ride across the mountains of Haute-Provence, camping and racing on the downhills, for an entire week.  Hope I have enough energy left for it…

Check out http://www.dirtragmag.com/ for updates from yours truly.

And http://trans-provence.com/ for info about this sort of amazing race...

Two (very different) Weeks in France

If it weren’t for a random call to Ross Schnell a month ago, I would’ve skipped World Cup Finals.  He said something I’ve been hearing from members of the North American Shred Posse for years “What are you doing in July?  You should come to the Mega.”  My normal response is the same for anything happening in July that’s not a World Cup or National Champs.  “I’m triple-booked that weekend anyway…” Ross diplomatically pointed out that, as far as he could tell, July twenty-second was free, other than the Megavalanche down the slopes above (and below) Alpe d’Huez in the French Alps.  And it was the weekend before the final World Cup in Val d’Isere, which I’d planned to respectfully bow out of on account of not really riding very well in Europe this spring.  But hey, a long DH race would be great prep for what could be my last World Cup XC race, right?  

Just so we’re all on the same page, the Megavalanche has to be the undisputed king of endurance downhill racing.  Dropping from 3300 meters at the top of Pic Blanc to 720 meters in the village of Allemont (that’s 2580m, or 8,385 feet) over the course of 33km.  That’s a lot of drop.  You climb some too, but not very much.  More importantly, the race is mass start.  On snow.  For about 3km.  In about three minutes…  Start position (crucial to success and/or safety) is determined by a series of ten qualifying races on a different course.  Which also is mass start, in waves of 200 riders, and also involves snow.  Perfect.  The top three riders from each qualifier get front row position in the final, 4-6^th second row, 7-9^th third row and so forth.  The top 35 from each round make the proper final.  The others qualify for the slower waves, Challenger, Amateur and Affinity.  Basically, it’s a whole bunch of people racing downhill together.  Super safe.  Fortunately, the organization requires the use of full-face helmets and body armor.  It’s good to see that, even in the land of limited liability, the promoter is wise enough to try and protect us from ourselves, and each other…

The Bourg d'Oisans Bus Station is a scenic place for a gear pile...

It’d been a while since Ross and I had gone to a race together, probably back in the Team Devo days, actually.  The fact that we were getting a chance to co-habitate for a week was made ever better that the days of that week were spent riding gondolas around in high alpine sunshine and working on riding downhill as fast as possible.  Ross’ new, and quite pregnant wife Cathryn and my Rabobank/Giant Offroad Teammate Rosara Joseph joined us to round out the crew.  Ross had one Mega under his belt, so sort of knew the ropes.  At least where to go and when, ish…  This is good information, as the logistics of a 33km downhill course are challenging.  Our three glorious days of “practice” involved a whole bunch of hurrying up and waiting in between riding the most diverse tracks I’ve ever experienced.  Doing one practice run meant leaving our apartment in Alpe d’Huez village aboard a 16-passenger gondola to the base of the Pic Blanc tram which dropped us at the top.  Of the world from what I could tell.  From there it was an hour or more of snow, alpine scree, ledge, pistes, meadow and forest down to Allemont.  There you got in line for a bus that would tow a cartoonishly packed trailer of bikes up to the base of Oz en Oisans ski area.  Here you boarded another long gondola back up to the Dome de Rousses tram, dropping us just below the Pic Blanc at the start of the Qualifier track.  This track started raw and rad in the alpine before mellowing into berm-filled meadows.  It took around thirty minutes to practice and passed our apartment about ¾ of the way down to its finish in the village of Huez.  From here you could wait in a huge line for a cable car back to the Alpe d’ village or just pedal up the final five switchbacks of the access road made famous by the numerous Tour de France stages finishing on it’s slopes.  Joined by hundreds of Dutch tourists, on a pilgrimage to emulate their Tour heroes.  All due respect, I’d heard of the legendary Alpe d’Huez climb for years and was kind of expecting something more interesting.  It’s a busy dead-end road to a ski area.  Just like hundreds of others in this corner of the world. 

OK, writing that all out kind of helped me process what a production it was to race the Mega.  Which we eventually did, and did pretty well.  The qualifier is key, and is basically an intermediate downhill race on trailbikes.  You HAVE to finish, and finish well, to secure a start spot in the final.  I hemmed and hawed about what bike to bring and in the end kept it familiar.  The Trance X 29 has been my fun bike of choice for the last year as we’ve tested and developed it.  Why not race it in France too, it’d be good on the snow at least…  Plus, Rosara needed to borrow something so she was the lucky recipient of my trusty Reign X.  Having never ridden anything bigger than an Anthem X, she was like a kid in a candy store.  Suddenly dropped atop the highest mountain she’s ever had the pleasure of standing on with a full-face helmet and 160mm travel bike.  Lucky.  And fast.  After starting her qualifier last and passing 75 girls she finished 25^th, just enough for a front row start in the MegaLadies final.  This start turned into fourth place by the finish.  Pretty good for an XC bandit who’s never ridden a proper bike…  French legend Anne-Caroline Chausson won the women’s race casually by a landslide, just like her World Cup DH racing days. 

The above sentence about finishing the quail intact and at the front being mandatory made me a touch nervous when, after a top-ten start in my heat, I was standing in the first snowfield trying to put my chain back on while half of the 200-rider wave filed past me.  S**t.  Thinking I was clever I followed what looked like a sneaky line that shortened the snow section after a tricky entrance.  The rest of the (smart, French) guys in front of me opted for the conservative line, knowing the risk of a mistake.  My mistake was small, barely stepping over the bars, but the dropped chain put me in a dire situation.  My clever line worked in snow section #2 and the game of passing everyone in the race began.  It was fun.  And dangerous.  Which I needed anyway to wrap my head around charging down brutally rough trails with tons of random dudes.  I overtook dozens of people, mostly in a safe manner, and finished 7^th, 1:20 down on Remy Absalon.  So, third row for the final.  Not ideal, but not disastrous.  The biggest disappointment was that it would’ve been really interesting to stay upright and in the mix to find out just how fast Remy is.  That guy has been the fastest rider in the fastest country for Enduro since it became a thing.  I need to know how good these guys are. 


Here's a little rear-POV from some practice on the Qualifier Track.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m3toHqhJuxE&feature=results_main

Rad Ross, qualifying second just outside the dust trail of the legend, Nicolas Vioulloz

Finals- Whoa.  I like to think that riding on the edge is something I’m into, but I was genuinely intimidated atop the top of Pic Blanc at 7am waiting for the sun to warm our bones and the freshly groomed, solidly frozen ski piste that was the start line.  For about 200m before it doglegged right onto a 4m wide “road” made up of fist to lawnmower-sized rocks.  This led to more snow, lots more.  Some of it steep, some with sharp corners.  Growing up ski racing in Maine and actually doing some winter downhill bike races on snow, I’m comfortable with the white stuff.  Or was.  When my turn to line up came I instinctively chose high right, just at the edge of the talus slope above the snow.  I assumed, what with the steep, icy snow bottlenecking into a rockfield and all, that there would be a huge crash by the time the third row got there.  I was right, but had no idea how huge until after the finish. 

The view from the Tram Station.  This is the lower 3/4 of the snow, the safe part...

The energy up there is pretty amazing before the start.  It was a crystal clear morning, accentuating your view of dozens of huge snowy peaks, and allowing the helicopter film crew to get intimate with the start grid.  Dance music pulsed from speakers on the line as 350 people awaited their fate.  Turns out most of them embrace it wholeheartedly.  Almost immediately I could see bodies piling up to my left, so went for the high right route through the rocks, figuring it was slower, but safer (and ultimately faster) than the NASCAR scene developing below me.  I squeaked through and set about hauling ass down the lower snow slopes, amazed at the level of grip and control available on the groomed, frozen glacier.  Except for where there were old ice ruts.  Those were sketchy, and I narrowly avoided a few other impressive crashes. 

Off the snow and onto the upper rocky singletrack I wondered what place I was in.  Could’ve been 100^th, could’ve been 30^th.  Either way, I could see the leaders of the race minutes down the mountainside.  Welp, so much for thinking I could show up and be on the podium.  Fortunately, even the random dudes I was with after the start melee are pretty good on their bikes.  I passed whenever I could but ultimately had to wait until the course turned to the southern aspect and began traversing across the ski pistes of Alpe d’ Huez proper.  Once there I set about overtaking fools like Sherman through Georgia.  Eventually I started recognizing people.  First was Jamie from Nelson, New Zealand.  He didn’t have a seat.  Before the main “climb” (a two-minute affair on a dirt road) I caught Ross.  My only comment for him was “Good work surviving.”  I crested the climb with enough of a gap on his group to stop and top off a leaky tire before we dropped in together.  This was exciting.  Riding with a familiar face, especially one as inspiringly fast and smooth as Mr. Schnell, is helpful in a race this long and taxing.  We both weren’t smooth enough though, in the eight minutes of pounding braking bumps on the section down to Oz we both got dangerous levels of arm pump.  Ross bad enough that after I pulled off to let him by his hands blew off the bars and he packed it in, hard (enough to separate his AC joint slightly and tear out some of the stitches he’d gotten after a qualifier crash).  When I made it to the next short road traverse I couldn’t even push the lever to actuate my DOSS seatpost. 

Checking out lines on the upper section with Dan, Anka and Jamie. Scenic.

Fortunately, thirty seconds of smooth road is enough to recover before the next woods section.  It was in there that Swiss Enduro legend Rene Wildhaber passed me on a shortcut line that I overlooked, he was about twenty meters below my unobservant ass and turned a ten-second deficit into a five-second advantage.  Right, next time I need the time to do more than two pre-runs of the whole course.  Thanks for the tutorial, Rene.  And, by the way, how the hell did you survive your start crash?  It was one of the scariest things I’ve ever seen.  By pedaling, tucked, down the first 200m of snow, he got the holeshot, normally the safest place to be.  Except he was going about 80kph when the bumpy snow gave way to rocks.  Sliding out just before he exited onto to the relative safety of the stones, Rene started tomahawking, and people started hitting him.  It was horrific.  Only three riders made it through, Dan Atherton, Nico Vioulloz and Franck Paroulin.  And, while we were talking in the parking lot after finishing 17^th and 18^th, he didn’t even mention it.  Just another day in the life of a European Enduro racer, I guess… 

Remy Absalon got out of the start crash early and unscathed, enabling him to hunt down the gravity-oriented riders on the traversing bits.  But Nico was checked out by then, with nearly a minute lead after the climb.  Which is funny, because Ross and I passed the legend shortly after, walking back up the hill with his bike on his back.  Hmm.  What could that guy, who is the picture of competitive restraint and calculated control have possibly done in the open, flowing meadow singletrack to abandon the race?  Turns out he was still pushing hard enough that he overcooked a corner, burping his tire and breaking his front wheel.  Amazing that a ten-time downhill World Champion was pushing that hard while leading this race.  It speaks to the depth of talent and overall challenge of this event.  You’re PINNED, mentally and physically, for, well, in eventual winner Remy’s case, 41:20.  In Rene, Ross and I’s case, it was more like 45:00.  But we survived.  That’s an interesting emotion to have post-race.  Normally for this kind of event you’re pumped to take every chance possible, and these guys are.  I will be next time, now that I know the score.  It’s another level.  But it’s not that far away…

Check out a video recap here.  And watch a few of the other vids on this site...  Action.

http://www.endurotribe.com/en/2012/07/video-le-film-officiel-de-la-megavalanche-2012/

Rosara and I had a forced rest day, which was extremely necessary, after our dipersal of equipment en route to Val d’Isere left us bikeless on Monday.  We Kept it Real with our Alpine travel plan.  Taking the bus from Geneva Airport to Alpe d’Huez with three bikes, a wheel box and two bags saved us a rental car for the first week.  Anna from Massageme.co.uk came down from Bourg St. Maurice to give us (and Tracey Moseley’s crew) some much needed massages before the Mega, and we sent parcel # 1, Rosara’s bike bag with my spare XC tubular wheelset, with her.  The big package, my bike case with my XTC Hardtail in it, almost went to Enduro of Nations in Italy with Dan Atherton.  Fortunately, I swung by as he was leaving, identified this conflict in destination, and was able to get his mechanic, Pete, to take it to Val d’Isere.  It’d be more useful there anyway…  SRAM BlackBox manager Jon Cancellier was kind enough to take Rosara and I’s Enduro bikes, but left on Monday morning, which meant a sort of bummer (to be missing out on more idyllic alpine riding) and sort of amazing (we were beat up) day off.  Tuesday we caught a ride with the New Zealander-strong Lapierre DH team over the Col du Croix Fiere and Col d’Iseran to the awaiting World Cup scene of Val d’Isere.  Whew, Keepin’ it Real feels great, but sure is complicated.  Thanks for the non-same-team help, folks…

Using one bike to go pick up another...  I'm glad my Dad and I put a new skid plate on the ol' double bike box.

This could very well have been my last World Cup.  Although I’ll probably race Mont St. Anne again someday, hopefully with the above-mentioned DOSS seatpost…  I was thankful that Ross tricked me into coming to Europe for two reasons.  First of all was that I got to be there while Michiel Van der Heijden won the Under-23 World Cup Overall title.  Second was that I rode at least one World Cup race in 2012 somewhere around my potential.  Both points made me feel pretty good. 

Really, though I took more satisfaction in watching Michiel over the course of the week than in my own relative success.  This young man has serious talent, and has his head squarely on his shoulders, regardless of his twenty years of age.  He had a narrow lead in the overall standings with a few riders posing a serious threat to his title.  It would take a calm, smart ride to secure the Cup.

 When I woke to the sound of a steady rain I was stoked for Michiel, as he’s quite good on his bike…  This might’ve been misguided on my part, as he was involved in a pair of start-lap crashes on the rain-slicked grass and settled into the second lap outside the top twenty.  Hmm.  Having never raced at altitude (Val d’Isere is at 1,860 meters above sea level) Michiel was inquisitive as we were pre-riding about how to play it.  I told him “whatever happens, don’t go over your limit, you have to be smart and steady.”  He did just that, waiting another lap for traffic to clear before he got down to business and rode back into 5^th place.  Winning the World Cup by 28 points.  Solid. 

I tried to do the same thing, except staying in control of oneself at the start of an Elite Men’s race means getting passed by the same bunch of guys who’ve been passing me on the first lap all year.  Like my U-23 teammate, I was patient and then started methodically moving through the field.  The course was good, not great, but the sporadic rain made it more interesting and there were lots of places that being smart and efficient would gain valuable seconds.  I gained lots of them.  Riding from 67^th to 26^th by the finish.  Around the dinner table, the last time I’d be sat there with the Rabobank team, the boys pointed out that my last lap was 5^th fastest.  Neat.  I’m still excited about moving on to different types of racing in the future, but it sure feels good to know that I can still ride at the World Cup pace, even if it’s only one lap per year…

I’d made Michiel a deal that if he won the U-23 title I’d let him borrow the Reign X for a little afternoon shred-mission.  He upheld his part of the bargain and I was more than happy to sneak on the Gondola with him after my race, even though I was completely effed…  We disembarked at 2700 meters in swirling mist and dropped into the funnest forty-five minutes of bike-park and pristine alpine singletrack I’ve enjoyed in a while.  Not surprisingly, Michiel has style for days on the big bike, he’s not a just a hardtail rider, evidently, or at least adapts quickly…  Either way, I reckon Giant Bicycles and/or the Rabobank team needs to get together to give the kid a bonus.  He’ll take a Reign X for sure.  And might just ride it in the Megavalanche someday…  It gives me faith in the future of XC racing to have upcoming talent like Michiel on the way.  Mark my words, just like the last guy who won the Junior World Championship at Mont St. Anne (Julien Absalon in 1998 and Van der Heijden in 2010), this guy is going to win a lot of races in his day.  I can’t wait to see how many, and what kind…

Funny that I left my last World Cup XC race on the Gondola with a kid who's just starting out on this fantastic journey that is chasing bike meets around the globe...

Anyway, ‘twas a lovely two weeks in France.  I’ll be back sometime soon, I promise… 

Right Coast Summer

One thing I can count on in this continually changing bike racing landscape is a summertime trip to the homeland for some World Cup racing.  It always feels good to step off the plane and feel that thick, warm air, knowing it’s even thicker under the dense forest canopy.  Full of oxygen and roots, rain or shine, the conditions are always right as far as I’m concerned.  We had each in the last two weeks at World Cup rounds #5 and 6 in Mont St. Anne, Quebec and Windham, NY.  Knowing I’ll get to enjoy some time with family and friends in Maine between events is the icing on an already sweet cake.  Not Whoopie Pie sweet, more of a mellow, sustainable sweet… 

Preparation for the Mont St. Anne race seems to start at another Mount, this one the namesake of Waldo County along Maine’s coast.  Sparky keeps raking the trails and Justin keeps riding the hell out of them, the combination of which puts a smile on my face annually.  Too bad there are only about a half-dozen people who ever enjoy it.  Or, that’s perfect. 

The hooligan riding seemed to be good prep for St. Anne.  The course there has changed over the years, but it’s always so good.  The kind of place I’d never ride a bike without back shocks.  Anthem X 29 seemed to let me open it up and have even more fun on the descent to tech zone #1 every lap.  Maybe too much fun, as I caught Christoph Sauser mid-race whilst riding quickly through the field.  I really wanted to show him this sweet gap jump off the bridge, but instead smacked something and, psssssssst.  Game off, briefly, for another snazzy tubular wheel, then, game on.  After a couple years of riding like poo at a place that’s always been so good for me there were glimmers of past pace.  Then it started raining.  Perfect.  And I mis-counted laps.  Thinking we were on the bell, and that folks weren’t really putting up much of a fight considering the impending finish, I had a Coke and went on a tear with two to go.  Oops.  And sorta fun.  Holding on for the last lap was a touch less fun, but resulted in more slickness and more overtaking, so, result.  The actual result wasn’t so flash, 24^th is about 5x my best finish in this fine forest, but feeling decent and having fun is un-quantifiable.  Nino Schurter also flatted a tubular, hopefully riding like a dick as well, but still was able to out-sprint Jose Antonio Hermida.  And Max Plaxton, the most talented guy in the World Cup field without a podium finish, finally got one.  Solid work, Max, ‘bout time… 

Just another Sunday afternoon in Brownville.

I like bike races and all, but I took the proximity of Quebec to my Dad’s place in Exeter as an opportunity to implement the European exodus model.  Race, hose off, and get the hell outta there in favor of bonus home time.  Lots needed to be done during the week in Maine.  There was massive flooding carnage to inspect in Brownville with the locals.  Aunt Diane made Baked Beans for Craig family dinner.  Mom had some sweet fused glass pieces she’s been learning to create as one of the spoils of her recent retirement.  And it was raining, which meant the opportunity to get a quick run on my favorite local river, which happens to flow past the house on its way to the Atlantic.  Plus some more Mount Waldo riding, in cartoonishly wet conditions. 

My burgeoning form now that it’s proper summer only added to my resolve to achieve a lifelong goal at the Windham World Cup.  I’ve got a tattoo that’s only available to one person a year, that of the Singlespeed World Champ.  This tongue-in-cheek event is a far, far cry from the incredible level of competition that defines the modern World Cup, but at the end of the day they’re both mountain bike races.  Over the years I’ve done a fair bit of racing on a singlespeed with folks on normal bikes.  Fast folks.  I’ve always been surprised with the result, which has been victorious more often than not.  But how would my relatively small, domestic sampling compare with the sport’s grandest stage?  There’s only one way to find out…

The Windham course is pretty ideal for a singlespeed, uphill start, consistent climbing with very little flat terrain and a fast, flowing descent.  You know, good bike stuff.  I’ve also always ridden a hardtail there with good luck.  So, this would be my chance, then.  Hatching this plan to myself after returning home from La Bresse, I logged onto tightjeansfixie.com and found a magic gear.  32x17.  Conversion complete, I set to training like I used to, long rides in the hills with Jimmy on our simple bikes.  We wanked on about how riding the SS gives you mystery power in between talking about girls and what we’d have for post-ride lunch.  And I started to feel pretty strong. 

Not quite strong or fast enough to keep up at the start though.  Which I expected, and wasn’t too concerned about.  Not to be self-deprecating, but I’ve been far from lighting it up in the first five minutes lately…  Fortunately, the last-minute discovery of an even more ambitious gear (34x17) that resulted from, shall we say, manufacturing tolerance drift, meant that I had no choice to ride up to about 40^th by the top of the first climb.  Sweet, this might just work.  My brain was pumped on riding fast and making this happen, finally.  Too pumped evidently, as close following of the dust-train (evidently the inches of rain that fell on Maine this week missed the Catskills) resulted in a kind of burly, scary high-speed wreck.  First point of impact, shoulder.  Second, back and elbows.  Dang it.  Or something to that effect.  A brief pause to wheeze and curse (which I’m sure sounded hilarious) and I was riding gingerly down the hill to fix some things at the pit.  Dang it.  It took a lap or so to get my wits back about me and by then the momentum was gone, replaced by some solid discomfort.  I caught up to the mid-30’s after a few laps and was trying to fake some momentum but it just wouldn’t come.  Body-slamming myself was a poor choice from a physiological standpoint… 

Appreciate the cheers for the alternative setup, folks in the woods...

Martin Allen Photo

From a mental standpoint, the Singlespeed Challenge was great.  I finally got to do it.  And from the solidly stoked Windham crowd’s reception, folks were into it.  Thanks for the cheers out there, boombox PA crew and everyone else lurking in the woods.  I mightn’t’ve made it up some of those pitches without y’all.  It just might have worked had things gone a little differently.  37^th place is OK, but I genuinely thought I could ride in the top 20 on that thing.  Better that I didn’t, as my ability to deliver a decent high-five was questionable.  Or put on my pants…

Just to clarify, I mean absolutely no disrespect to the institution of World Cup racing that’s provided me with an amazing focus and purpose for the last decade.  In 2006 I started experimenting with a single front chainring in World Cups.  It worked awesome and has ultimately become a very common setup at all levels of XC racing.  Doubtful that the proper single will ever be a common sight, but you never know.  It’s fun to try things out, just in case…  I completely understand (and was sternly told as much after the race) that plenty of people support our Rabobank/Giant Offroad team and they expect a certain level of professionalism at events.  I like to take a broad view of what being a professional is, probably broadened by my innate American-ness…  There were so many smiling faces out on the course, screaming their heads off for someone who was going out on a limb.  Hopefully those impressions last a lifetime, they certainly will for me.  

The devil’s advocate would say that, with recently improving form, I could’ve ridden a bike with gears (and maybe even shocks, it got rough out there!) to a respectable finish.  Maybe so.  Over the last two and a half seasons, since shredding my knee and joining this Rabobank team, I’ve had a continual inability to do just that, regardless of how hard I work.  There’s always something.  This continual disappointment has burrowed deep into my brain and, as a coping mechanism, I’ve stopped considering podium finishes as a realistic option.  In some way, the one-gear challenge was a way to have World Cup racing be a kind of unknown again.  A personal challenge.  And it was… 

Now I know.  It can be done.  But it’s probably not the future.  I saw Burry Stander, who’s riding a single chainring and always pushing the limits of equipment, out on the course before the race, he’d heard of my plan and asked what the hell I was thinking.  I told him it was an experiment, a make or break one.  He responded that it’d probably break me.  He went on to win in Windham.  Smart guy.  Pretty awesome that our US Olympians all slayed it on Saturday.  Todd Wells rocked it in 4^th, his best result ever, Sam Schultz was only a minute off the podium in 10^th.  Damn, fellas, glad you’re in shape and looking on track to make us proud.  Georgia Gould was even more agonizingly close to the Win than last week, a puncture in the last kilometer resulted in her running toward the line while Catherine Pendrel and Katerina Nash sprinted around her.  Save it for London, Georgia.  Lea Davison finally punched her podium ticket as well, coming home in 5^th in front of her extraordinarily stoked family.  Warms the heart, Nugget. 

I’m glad the little mountain community of Windham was able to pull together after the destruction of Hurricane Irene last August to not only rebuild but put on their third installment of a great event.  The little details like a “ride the pond” challenge on Thursday evening and solid concerts Saturday after dark really tie together our traveling MTB circus.  Hats off to Nick, Lori and the rest of the crew for making it happen and to the UCI for letting them start us on the downtown bridge that washed downstream ten months before we stood on it. 

I heart the East Coast racing.  That said, I might not be here, for this at least, next year…  

Stevie Wonder wave, Kenduskeag Steam, Bangor Maine.

European XC to Oregon Enduro and more…

A whole lot has happened since I last jotted down a few anecdotes from the road.  Most importantly, being on the road eventually, if temporarily, gave way to some home time.  That was a highlight for sure.  I love traveling to beautiful places, and a long stint in the GMT-1 Time Zone this spring was the right thing to do for my attempt to make the 2012 US Olympic Team.  Unfortunately, that didn’t happen.  Not even really very close.  If the team selected four or five riders I would have been a contender.  We earned our right to send two.  Those two were clear choices and I was glad to learn that the Selection Committee did the right thing in sending Todd Wells (who had similarly bad luck this spring as myself but kind of ruled it in 2011, consistently top 10 on the world stage) and Sam Schultz, who was by far the most consistent and ultimately the best American at the first four World Cups of 2012.  Plus, he’s a stoked, talented kid from Montana who’s paid his dues, one small step at a time. 

The third and fourth rounds of the World Cup in Czech and France seem like ancient history at this point, but they were only a month ago.  I had high hopes for the French Alps training camp having gotten me in shape enough to make a statement at these two events, both of which were on courses that I actually enjoyed riding. 

Nova Mesto na Morave is a scenic town in the central Czech Republic countryside, not entirely dissimilar from where I grew up in Maine.  Farmland and forest that sees more precipitation than sunshine.  We stayed in the Hotel Ski, right at the race venue, which was a nice treat.  The Rabobank team’s usual M.O. for these World Cup races is to have lodging in some adjacent town in order to maintain a quiet atmosphere for the riders to rest and prepare.  The opposing view of this is that it almost removes one too much from the environment, making these prestigious races seem like just another weekend.  Not so in Czech, the energy in the hotel was palpable and I think it fed all of the riders.  Or at least gave us something to do in the form of socializing with our competitors, sponsors and random race fans.  We also go to watch the World Cup Eliminator race from the grandstands.  It looked even harder than from the start line as a participant… 

U23 National Team member Russell Finsterwald has style for days.

Evidently the energy of the race was too much for me to handle though.  Other than avoiding a MASSIVE pileup on the pavement, I had my standard average/bad start.  Fortunately, I was still in the 70’s (could be much worse) and riding with JHK as we started moving through the field after the start lap.  Then I got excited and tried a new passing line.  It had a huge rock.  I smashed into it.  My fault.  The resulting flaccid tire had to be ridden half a lap to the pit, which put me back into the triple digits.  Still feeling solid, I worked back up to the 70’s by the finish.  Super.  Nino Schurter won a hard-fought battle with hometown boy Jaraslav Kulhavy.  Damn those guys are fast. 

The next weekend in La Bresse was my last chance.  I pretty much needed to light the world on fire, or at least enough of my competitors to finish up near the podium to salvage any hope of Olympic Glory.  To this end, I rode my trusty XTC 29 hardtail all week and limited time spent exploring the Hautes Vosges region’s never-ending supply of amazing singletrack.  Which, it turns out has such awesome tracks and lines burned in because Remy Absalon holds a two-day Enduro event there every June.  Smart guy.   

Hardtail skills are good to have, but this sure looks fun on a proper bike.

Again, average start.  Actually below average.  Somewhere around 100 after the start lap melee. Although, interestingly, Burry Stander had some mishaps at the start and we were together in the cheap seats on the first (large by modern World Cup standards) climb of the day so I had a good marker to see just how far someone who’s actually fast could go from said seats…  Turns out it’s possible to get 24th from the back.  Good to know, Burry.  Actually, I used to be able to do that...  I rode decent, passed about 50 guys and ended up 52^nd.  Still the 5^th American.  We all finished within a few spots and minutes, nearly a lap down on hometown boy Julien Absalon.  His convincing win on a track designed by his brother and 20k from his home of Remiremont warmed my heart.  I’ll say it again, he’s a good bike rider. 

Ok, that was Europe and not making the Olympic Team.  Let’s move on. 

Next up, a week off the bike.  Which flew by, there are a lot of things to catch up with on the home front after a few months abroad.  Like going snowmobiling with the boys after a surprise 18” dump on May 24^th.  Back on the bike it was time to just ride the thing.  No powermeter, no intervals, just riding the terrain as it dictated.  Sometimes, on the singlespeed, that meant really hard.  Other times, on the road bike on gravel with some Aussie prick on race tires, it meant a lot of creative flat tire repairs.  Either way, bike riding is ace in my book.

Byron likes to rock out.  Being crazy pays huge dividends on snowsleds.

Fortunately, in this day and age of mountain bike contests, there’s never a very long period without an opportunity to have someone say GO and have a crack at it.  I’m growing ever more enamored with the burgeoning Enduro racing scene, which has finally landed in The Northwest in the form of the new for 2012 Oregon Enduro Series (formerly the Oregon Super D Series).  The new format, which, just to clarify, exchanged the old Super D format (one long downhillish run) for the European Enduro format of multiple timed downhill “Specials” connected by un-timed but still to be ridden uphill or traversing “Liasons”.  It’s kind of like Rally Car racing on bikes, but only on the good parts …  It’s also the future, I hope.   

Due to massive storm carnage in Hood River’s Post Canyon, the series opener was moved to Bend.  Perfect, I could ride from my house to the race.  And have local knowledge.  Which proved kind of irrelevant, as I don’t really make a habit of riding at 110% pace and commitment in my backyard. Doesn’t really seem sustainable… 

Series organizer Devon Lyons fingered Slaven, Anthony, The White Buffalo and I to star in a course preview video.  Check out the terrain here-

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NQ7wwt0QapY&feature=youtu.be

A proud field of the nation’s top bike riders turned up to see just how their particular skill set would stack up with this unique format.  I was quite curious myself.  Would established Super D guys like Timmy Evens, Nathan Riddle, Matthew Slaven and Jason Moeschler use the shorter, less pedally stages to give XC bandits like Carl, Josh Carlson and I a run for our money or would the proper gravity guys like Curtis Keene and Brian Lopes (yikes!) roll and smoke everyone with their precision and snap?  Hmm. 

I had the extra layer of advantage/uncertainty/pressure that came with riding this sweet new bike I’ve been working on for nearly a year with Giant for the first time in public.  It has big wheels, biggish shocks and does great wheelies and skids.  Plus, it’s the fastest color other than white.  Black.  Seemed like a good choice for racing on the good parts, but you know how it goes, if you win it’s because of the bike, if you lose, well, that bike sucks. 

I won.  By a decent margin (luckily, because a rookie mistake involving basic bike maintenance starting stage 4 nearly cost me the farm.)  Whew, the bike IS good.  And condensing the racing into the really good bits with time to reflect/BS/get stoked in between with your buddies, or strangers, is pretty ideal.   

Not to get all caught up in the stage times and what not, there was one notable test from a time comparison standpoint.  Somehow, in 2:12 spent on what amounts to a downhill BMX track, I was only two-tenths slower than Lopes.  Neat.  And, how the hell did I do that?  Side note- The sketchiest, shortest, lippiest, most 9-year-old kid looking jump on the course?  The one some people just rode through the bushes around?  Yup, I built that one fateful Wednesday evening last spring.  Sorry for the danger, I’ll go fix it the next time it rains…

New Giant Factory Team rider Josh Carlson overtook Mr. Lopes on stage 5 for 2^nd and Carl did the same to Curtis Keene for 4^th.  So, in the top 5 we had two XC riders, a proper DH’er, an Ex-Pro Motocrosser (Carlso) and, well, Brian Lopes, however you define that guy (he’s really good).  The rest of the top 10 included the usual Enduro suspects, and our Shimano Boss, Joe Lawwill was 22^nd, dead-nuts in the middle of the 45-rider strong pro field.  He’s a huge proponent of this Enduro business and we’re glad to have the support from up top.  There was a good turnout from the bike industry, everyone seemed to be waiting with bated breath to see how this event was going to play out, wishing success upon it as the next coming of bike racing.  I’d say we got off on the right foot, pros and amateurs alike were stoked on the format and amount of riding done throughout the weekend.  Some kinks need to be worked out here and there, but hey, it’s riding bikes in the woods, fast, it’ll all come together…

It was Carl's Birthday, so...

OK, two more bike meets to go-

Arguably the best one, definitely the most lucrative (even by World Cup standards) is the Blitz to the Barrel.  Local mountain biker/entrepreneur/businessmen/good guy Eric Eastland suggested an undergound local’s race to me a couple years ago.  This, it’s third iteration, is the most condensed fun I’ve had at a bike race in a long time.  Basically, we started at Wanoga Sno-Park and raced down Funner and COD to Tetherow Golf Course, where a huge crowd watched us hit a sweet rock-to-wood stepdown then try to huck a sand trap before four (count ‘em) miles of pavement were pounded to get to the finish at Ten Barrel Brewing on the west side of town.  Where we, um, pounded a pint to stop the clock. 

Tetherow unknowingly built their driving range on a perfect launchpad.  All Access just had to provide the landing...

My goal for this year, in the face of the strongest field and biggest purse ($20,000 split between the men and women’s top 5) was to arrive at Ten Barrel with enough time to slightly enjoy my beer.  With guys like Carl, Timmy, Gibson, Barry Wicks, Ryan Trebron, Josh Carlson, and Chris Sheppard in the mix, it wouldn’t be easy. 

Things started off dangerously awesome with Carlson winning the $500 holeshot prime, just, after Matthew Slaven did a RAD Crew Jones impersonation, bunnyhopping the inside course tape to go from 6^th to 2^nd.  So high, so smooth, so close…  I respected his radness for a while, and Nick’s amazing pink POC kit, then set about catching the Aussie.  It happened fast and I was alone soon after.  Tasting that deliciously bubbly malted beverage already.  Tetherow was a blur of screaming fans and setting sun.  Fortuately, Alex McClaren was on the PA, and, instead of telling dirty jokes, he actually gave split times when my unseen pursuer, Wicks, came onto the driving range.  45 seconds.  Just enough time to finish up and drink a pint.  Fast.  With some burping/sneezing/gasping.  For $3000!  Katie Compton brought the Colorado Springs’ locals’ battle to the Blitz, taking down Kelli Emmett in the ladies division.  Rosara and I really miss you on the Rabobank team, Katie, but we understand your position… And now you’re rich too!  Thanks, Eric, and all the Blitz Sponsors.  This race is ridiculous. 

The Blitz experience really begins at the finish line though.  Imagine having a bunch of stoked buddies, bike nuts and curious strangers at the pub, which is your finish line, on a Tuesday night.  Plug in a Sublime cover band on a proper stage provided by All Access to get everyone stoked for the final event, ARM WRESTLING!  Who loves skinny, yet unhealthily competitive bike riders performing feats of strength?  Turns out, everyone.  Esepecially the elders of the race, Lev and Brooke.  Evidently you need to be a parent to rip someone’s arm off.  Well played.  Things kept on after that, just another Tuesday night ending in that fateful decision- whether or not to go to the Westside Tavern for a nightcap… 

Timmy Evens.  Commitment.  The Aussie buckled eventually.

I didn’t.  With a flight to the Ute Valley Pro XCT in Colorado Springs two days later, I had enough of a hangover to make things tenuous without the Westside upcharge…  But Ryan Trebron did, his chugging skills just wouldn’t go to bed.  In retrospect, I should’ve too, as Ryan rode convincingly away from our five-strong lead group on the penultimate lap of the XC race Saturday afternoon.  Must’ve been that night-cap.  Or just his continual quest to actually tear his crankarms and handlebars off his bike with every pedal stroke.  OK, everyone go home and do this Tree Farm approved exercise- pick a random stranger off the street, challenge them to a beer-quaffing contest, then sprint off on your townie, trying to remove the bars and pedals with your skinny appendages.  Repeat for a decade and you too can ride at 1,000 watts all day long.  Freak.  My K.I.R. points from Tuesday only paled in comparison to Ryan though, so I attacked the remainder of our group with 500m to go, didn’t crash on the slickest rain/clay soaked boardwalk ever raced across and got second place.  Basically Todd, JHK and Sam should’ve all accepted their invitations to The Blitz, it’s obviously ideal preparation…  Next year? 

Brady, Russell, Kalan, Mitch and Kerry race because they love to ride.  Bonus lap, Garden of the Gods.

Not to get all sappy, but being in Colorado Springs, the town that jump-started my current utopic MTB lifestyle, when the email entitled “Olympic Team non-Selection” came through on Friday afternoon was bittersweet.  The Olympic Training Center’s U23 resident athlete program that I earned a spot in after graduating high school was absolutely the turning point in my life.  It’s been a great ride, much like the many rides I went on in the hills around Colorado Springs in those formative years.  When some of the current U23 crop suggested a ride after Sunday’s Eliminator race (which I got smoked in and Ryan won) my heart kind of melted.  Having Jeremiah Boobar (who gave me my very first free bike part, a RockShox SID in 1998) guide us on some little-known Cheyenne Canyon gems was the icing on an already sweet weekend cake.  Thanks, stoked kids and lifelong MTB shredder, for bringing it full circle.  This is a fine hobby we have… 

That’s all for now.  But there’s going to be more.  The next eight weekends are spoken for, all good stuff. 

June 23- Mont St. Anne, Quebec World Cup

June 30- Windham, NY World Cup (surprise in store)

July 6- XC and Super D National Champs, Sun Valley

July 14-15- Decision- Missoula, Montana Pro XCT or Hood River Oregon Enduro? Vote.

July 22- The MEGA Avalanche Alpe d’ Huez, France  Finally!  I’m scared. 

July 28- World Cup Finals, Val d’ Isere, France.

August 5- Downieville Classic. 

August 11- Crankworx Enduro, Whistler, BC

August 12- Olympic Games Mountain Bike race/I hop on a plane to the middle of nowhere, BC. 

Good thing I got in shape the last few weeks…

Ten Votes in Favor of European Spring-

Mallorca.  What better place to spend 10 days getting over the most serious flu/mystery virus I’ve encountered than a Spanish Island usually reserved for team training camps (what I’d intended) on beautiful, sun drenched roads and trails.  Sitting around shivering, sweating and coughing is much  better in a pleasant setting…  Fortunately, Rosara’s Kiwi acquaintance, Craig, had a small plane to give a tour of the island that was impossible for me by bike.  And the hospital staff was pleasant. 

Weather.  I’ve always been pretty lucky with springtime in Northern Europe, racing the Houffalize, Belgium World Cup in exclusively dusty conditions throughout my career.  Not this year.  With Katie, Rosara and I all recovering from super-virus, the single digit temps weren’t ideal, but prompted expulsive coughing, which was constructive…  I raced like I felt, a small child with a cold.  130^th, a lap down.  What are you gonna do?  Watch Julien Absalon take a dominant win from the sidelines and wonder how you ever sort of kept up with that guy…

Hardening Up.  After Houffalize the Non-Europeans on the team retired to our team manager, Leo’s place on the northern Dutch/German border for a workweek.  I was starting to feel normal again and super keen to get back to training/ playing catch-up.  Fortunately, the weather was continuing to, well, exist.  Cold wind and rain in the flat lands is a tough transition from Mallorca, but being able to ride made it seem strangely pleasant.  I’ll have to remember this hardening up for the next time utopic bike riding seems difficult…

Shakedown.  How’s this for strange times- Two normal-looking people pull up to a German Autobahn rest stop for fuel.  Transaction complete, they begin to depart, at which time the Polezi flag them down.  Informed that they’ve been selected for a random check, passports are handed over.  Intentions become immediately clear with “May we look through your belongings?” and  “Did you smoke any weed while you were in Holland?”  Ultimately, they interrogated us, searched our stuff, demanded to know if vitamins were disguised drugs and forced me to take a urine test for drugs in the bathroom.  Whoa, Dutch plates really get the treatment in Germany.  Good thing I passed… 

The Alps.  Nothing makes you appreciate returning to an idyllic mountain setting more than a few days spent in the flatlands.  We raced in Haiming, Austria after the Great Grey North and it felt so good to be in the hills.  The solidly awesome course in a beautiful forest made the continually cold/wet/snowy weather unnoticeable to this kid.  I rode slightly better, 12^th in the softest HC-class field race in Europe all year.  Fabian and Emil went 1-2.  Dang, fellas.  The sun shone on Monday morning, enabling a tidbit of local beta to produce one of the best loops I’ve ever ridden.  Seriously. 

I got a new whip in Austria.  Anthem X Advanced 29.  Carbon fibre comes to big wheels and shocks.  Making every ride a pleasure from here on out...

Team Training Camp.  Excited about the prospect of getting a leg up on the competition at a new World Cup venue, the Rabo squad spent a few days in La Bresse, France checking out the freshly constructed course and dialing it in with the help of skills coach (and former DH honch) Oscar Saiz.  We had some little chalets up on the mountainside in which a bunch of good meals were cooked with the help of Michiel, snowflakes fell and sun shone.  Some pretty radically good riding elsewhere in that corner of Alsace as well…  I’m glad Remy Absalon puts on an Enduro race there in addition to doing a bang-up job on the World Cup XC track. 

Bundesliga.  I’ve never raced a German National Series event.  Strange that I’d missed that in the last decade.  What better one to sample than the biggest, Heubach.  We knew we were there when the BLASTING AC/DC was interrupted with a synth voice-over announcing “BIKE THE ROCK!!!” which is what we were about to do, evidently.  Up and down the rock a bunch of times, actually.  A nearly World Cup level field took frothingly to the 10min up/3min down course while I tried to continue getting in shape.  Improving for sure, but still not ready for 70min of climbing and 20min of reward, yet…  18^th.  Fabian almost won before German Champ and fellow Cape Epic dropout Milatz Moritz punched his ticket.  Lots of people were real fired up to watch the race and drink beer.  Lucky folks.

Driving.  There’s something about driving around Europe that I sincerely love.  Being in an area of such condensed beauty and infrastructure means you can always find something to look at or comment on.  In the last couple weeks we’ve driven from Holland to Austria, then just across the border to France, back into Germany, and a pit stop in Switzerland on the way back to France, the Alps this time.  Along the way delicious, fast, nutritious meals were eaten at rest stop Marche restaurants, people drove fast and courteously, and the GPS didn’t send us wrong, even though we don’t have a friggin’ map to confirm it’s blind directing… 

Friends of Friends.  I like people.  Meeting them, finding out what they do and about their neighborhood.  Just this week we’ve had a buddy of the Northwest Shred Posse, Rob Hamilton-Smith, turn us on to an amazing train-assisted ride along the shores of Lake Geneva, then introduce us to the guy, Sam Morris of http://www.bikevillage.co.uk/biking.htm to ride with and get beta from in the Beaufortain who subsequently set us up with Anna from Massage Me, who did just that in the little village of Nancriox while I gazed at a massive avalanche crown line on a 3200m peak.  And shoot, I haven’t even met Ash Smith of Trans Provence yet, but he’s already gotten us set up with a place in Bourg St. Maurice in addition to providing what I assume will be the best bike racing week of my life with his event this fall… 

Trains take you here!

Weekends off.  There haven’t been many, but they sure are nice, in addition to being productive.  This one in Bourg St. Maurice is exceedingly so. The progress that can me made in place of racing is always impressive, and rejuvenating.  I’m pretty sure this final block of prep for World Cup rounds 3 and 4 (my last chance to ride like I know I can and make the Olympic Team) is going to set up a solid finish to this long, rollercoaster of a trip.  8 weeks of 10 down, time to get stuff done and then go home!