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, 4-6th
second row, 7-9th 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 25th,
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 7th, 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
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
100th, could’ve been 30th. 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 17th and 18th, 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.
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 5th
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 67th to 26th 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 5th 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…