The Atherton Project

Episode Four

The latest update from the Red Bull trio takes them from Andorra to the States. With injuries plaguing the family, Gee tackles the Andorra World Cup and US Open almost alone. Almost, but not quite...

I passed The Test!

Now that my fingers have at last become ungnarled I'll share with you my latest adventures on the left coast. Back in April when I came out for some Easter riding, it seemed everyone I met wanted to know one thing: "Are you coming back for The Test?" "What the hell is that?" I wanted to know. So after a few first-hand accounts, a bit of googling, and some humming and hawing, I decided to give it a whirl.

The Test of Metal is the "Canadian Epic" mountain bike race. It's been held every year in Squamish BC since the mid nineties ... which is just about as old as it gets when it comes to mountain bike racing. You can read more about the history of the race here. By the numbers, the Test of Metal is a 67km point to point race. There are 35km of some of the sweetest single track in the country, layered with 1,200m of climbing.

My own Test experience began on Wednesday with a flight out to Vancouver. Kona Matt was my hero that night: he and his lovely girlfriend Larissa picked me up in the Kona van from the airport. We quickly did a beer bong and then went on our merry way. Okay, not really. Larissa and Matt ferried me to Squampton and then Matt helped me get the bike ready to rip before they headed back to Coquitlam. It wasn't until it was time to say goodbye that I found out it was actually their third anniversary that night, so boy did I feel blessed to have been taken care of so nicely on such a special occasion. There are some truly decent people in this world, I tell ya. THANKS!!

Thursday I wanted to get out and see the big scary race course. Or at least the important parts. I sure didn't plan to ride the whole thing. The only problem was that I didn't know any riders in town. So I went and loitered around Republic Bike Shop until I met Karl, who was kind enough to squeeze in a ride before his massage. Plus I got to meet his adorable puppy Mia, a four-month-old huksy and future trail dog.

Mia

When it came to the coruse, for the most part, I was kind of underwhelmed. I'll be honest, I was starting to wonder what all the fuss was about. It seemed like whenever we rode something I felt would be tough at speed, I'd discover that it was just a route Karl was taking us on to connect to a part of the course that was actually in the race. So ... a lot of double track was covered before we arrived at the famous Powerhouse Plunge. At which point I was decidely overwhelmed. I bounced my way down in a combination of sketchy riding and hike-a-bike. Twice I thought I was going over the bars in some of the more perilous angles I've ever encountered on two wheels. Immediately after the ride, I began focusing my energy on mentally smoothing out the trail so that it would go a little better on race day.

Just before plunging.

Friday I woke up with a migraine. The weather forecasted a week of rain before I left, but I had yet to see any of the wet stuff. Back home, I'd asked Nancy to do her sun dance and it turns out she's really good at it. When they weren't busy looking for cougars, the whole town was looking up, wondering where the rain was. I was thankful for the weather but could have done without the migraine. Perhaps it also had something to do with the entire wheel of award-winning brie I consumed ... but who could say for sure?

Mmmmm ... Brie. I'm intolerant of lactose intolerance.

It was really trying to rain, and I wasn't the only one with a resulting headache. Finally, Friday night the clouds emptied and my head cleared like someone had flipped a switch. So Friday ended up being a rest day like it was supposed to be. If I hadn't had a massive headache, I'd have been out sabotaging my race by riding to my heart's content, so perhaps it was for the best.

With the perfect amount of rain Friday night, the course was in prime condition on Saturday. The dusty corners had been tacked up a bit. The clouds still hung around a little keeping the sun off the exposed climbs. And the pressure was down so my head finally felt less like a cinder block.

It was a strange feeling being at a race where I didn't recognize anyone. Not even familiar jerseys! Occassionally a stranger would come up to me and say hello. I met some nice people from Toronto, and reunited with my Easter Bunny from April. The starting area at the Brennan Community Centre was a bit of a zoo. Almost 1,000 racers, plus their supporters were milling around chatting, peeing, and hydrating before the opening ceremomies. When your bike is ready, to claim your spot in the starting chute you turn it upside down and leave it between the tape so you're still free to keep chatting, peeing and hydrating without worrying about getting a good position.

Bikes all in a row

Since I was racing in the Elite category, we got our own starting chute right at the front of the race. That meant I had a primo vantage point for the ceremonial drum and dance the Squamish First Nation performed.

Squamish First Nations welcome us

I sang along with Oh Canada and then rolled out with some of the best riders in the country, including race winners Catharine Pendrel, and Max Plaxton. It was quite a feeling leading out a mass start of 1,000 riders. The buzz of 2,000 tires on the pavement was the coolest sound in the world. The course took us through town and up into the highlands before dropping into the first off-road sections. It was a full on road-race til then. All of a sudden I was calling on pack skills I'd put on the back burner for a couple seasons. In a regular mountain bike race, it's all about the hole-shot, which is usually just a couple hundred metres up the course -- so the start is usually very fast as everyone clambers to get in first. But in this race, we were on the roads for over ten minutes so it started like a road race -- slow, with everyone eyeing each other and doing their best to hold lines through high speed corners and yes, even drafting! It was like worlds colliding, and luckily I avoided any real-life collisions.

I expected the race to take me about 3.5 hours but I had no idea how to pace it since I hadn't even seen a quarter of the course. Throughout the race I oscillated between feeling really good and really bad and it was hard to get a consistent effort. I knew there was 1,200 m of climbing, but what does that really mean? Are they steep? Technical? Long? Turns out BC climbs aren't like Ontario climbs. They aren't even like Quebec climbs. At least you can see the tops at those venues. The climbing I endured was endless, and it didn't feel like we were getting good returns on our vertical investments because any time the course pointed down, it was almost more of an effort: the descents were strewn with drops, rocks, loose corners and roots that rival most logs in Ontario. Not to mention other racers. Every time I got to the bottom of a hill it felt like I'd been beaten with a stick, and run over by the field. And then of course it was time to grind up another pitch.

Course map: available at all local grocery stores

Climbing was a big part of this course, and the crowning effort was what almost did me in: the 9 mile climb. The 9 mile starts the second half of the course. I hadn't seen it in preride, so I didn't know what to expect at all. We passed through a particularly raucus feed zone (honestly, spectating the Test of Metal might be the better idea!!) and I figured it must be about half way. We were slowly mounting a gravel logging road. If I was at the bottom of a 9-mile climb, that's something I'd want to know about, so I asked the man riding next to me, "hey, do you know where the 9 mile is?" and he said "oh yeah, it kind of sneaks up on you. It's coming up soon." Taking that to mean that this was in fact NOT the 9 mile, I gave it some gas expecting to see the top around the next corner. Or maybe the next one. Or maybe the one after that ... ? The climb just kept going, and going, and going. And it was getting steeper, and I'd run out of gears a long time ago.

Finally, I asked another rider, "hey ... is this the 9 mile?" "Yeah!" he says between gasps. So it's possible the guy I asked first was the only jerk in mountain biking, or else he just genuinely didn't realize and we both got a surprise. I changed my strategy and settled in. Awhile later, the ground levelled at last and there was a feed zone with watermelon, gatorade and cheering spectators. I was so happy to have made it I said out loud, "thank god that's over." My neighbour cheerily informed me, "oh no, that's just the first plateau. There are three! Next section is a little steeper." He might as well have pushed me off my bike and stepped on my head. I was heart broken. I slurped down my ride-by watermelon and steeled myself for more. And up and up we went! Another few minutes and we passed a sign that said 6 and a quarter. Only a few more miles up. The 9 mile made me really stare down my doubts. I dug deep and stayed up. A dude in front of me keeled over, dusted himself off, got back on and kept going. I thought, if he can do it, for sure I can do it. And what awaited us for a reward when we got to the top? Another climb! Hurray!

And so it went. And went and went.

Next time, I'll know a lot more about what to expect. Pacing will be easier. I'll know where the bottlenecks happen. And I'll know it can be done -- a fact I wasn't so sure of come hour three on Saturday.

I passed The Test!

When I finished, I indulged my newly spurred cravings for watermelon until I'd eaten I think almost an entire one to myself. (The amazing volunteers just kept cutting up fruit plates for the racers coming in and they didn't mind if you had seconds ... thirds ... eighths ...) I toured the finish area and then took my tired and battered body home to Brackendale.

I think all that racing and being jostled on the race course knocked a screw loose in my head because I somehow decided it would be a good idea to go out for a ride with friends that afternoon, a mere 2.5 hours after I crossed the finish line. I showered off the Test of Metal so I'd be clean-ish to start my next ordeal. I even donned a double chamois; the Test of Metal awarded me my very first saddle sore!

A familiar lookout!

Priscilla, Crispin, Axl and I put in another three hours revisiting Recyle and checking out Pseudotsuga too. It was amazing. The trails out there are just phenomenal, no matter what kind of riding you do. And even though they were fairly new to the sport, Crispin and Priscilla were straight up killing it. It was impressive stuff. And they didn't even get mad at me when I got us lost on an uphill detour!

Crispin, Priscilla and Axl

So with that, I'd had my fill. That was easily the heaviest day of mountain bike riding I have ever done. I limped back to Brackendale, feebly tried to pack up and eat and then it was off to Toronto. I got onto an earlier flight which was a blessing, and passed out almost immediately. G met me at the airport and took me home to sleep in my own bed. When I close my eyes three days later, it still feels like I'm riding the sweet Squamish single track.

To close, I just want to send another huge thanks to Matt and Larissa for getting me to Squampton. I also want to thank Matt B for all his hospitality and great conversation. Thanks to Priscilla and Crispin for being such stoked riding buddies. Thanks to Nancy for the Sun Dance, and thanks in advance for my eagerly-anticipated post-race massage. I also want to thank G for being such a big help getting me to and from the airport and of course for fielding freak-outs over race jitters and pedal-removal troubles. Thanks to all the volunteers and organizers for putting on such an epic event. Thanks to Tantalus and Republic Bike shops in Squamish for your help with tune ups and last minute equipment needs! Thanks to WestJet and my aunt Mindy for safe flights! And of course, as always, thanks to Sweet Pete's for all your help on this race and every race.

Test of Metal

I can't remember the last time I was this sore after a bike race. I'll be sure to post the whole story as soon as I can, but for now I just wanted to say it was a hell of a ride.

My time was just a few minutes over my race goal -- not bad since pacing was definitely a challenge.

The weather held, and only rained a little bit while I was struggling up the "9 mile" (praise Jesus!) so conditions were perfect. In fact, Max Plaxton was able to set a new course record.

The women's winner was Kamloops' Catharine Pendrel (of Olympic fame) with a time of 2 hours and 50 minutes. An honour to line up with the likes of Catharine!

The race was 67km, with 35km single track and 1,200m of climbing.

As for results, I was the 307th person across the line and 958 people finished. I was the 19th female, and 144 raced.

Stay tuned for the whole story (as soon as I can get my hands to work again ...)

The Atherton Project

Episode Three

From playing Sudoku to dressing up in bikinis (oh, and riding motorbikes up rivers), Gee and Dan atherton make their way to La Bresse.

Race Tracks

This race track is brought to you by last week's Montreal Road Trip. G brought Passion Pit on board the minivan adventure and I've been hooked ever since.

This Boston band first blew up after the lead singer wrote a handful of songs for his then-girlfriend for Valentine's day. The tracks got popular all over his college campus and things grew from there. They added on some more tunes and came out with their first full-length album, "Manners" this past May.

It's super fun, energetic feel-good music that reminds me of other favourites like the Go! Team (a future "Race Track")

That's why Passion Pit will be loaded up into the Ipod for the trip west for the Test of Metal -- my next race. Stay tuned!

Jus' Sayin'

Montreal Bike Fest

Montreal, the short story

Kilometres cycled: 20+52+a bunch of our own = ~100km
Road Trippin Tune-age: Passion Pit
Beverage: Belle Gueule original lager
Food groups: crepes, Smoked Meats, poutine, traditional french fare, ju jubes
Change found: $0.15

Montreal, the long story

Montreal, it turns out, is totally rad. I was there this past weekend for the second time ever, although the first was a school band trip I took in grade 9 so I'm inclined to not count that (and can't remember any of it anyway). It pains me to say, I might have continued postponing my return to la Belle Province's hippest metropolis had it not been for Velo Quebec and a little good luck. I was the winner of the Bike Fest draw they held way back in the spring at the Bike Show.

The prize included two nights accommodations at Parc Suites Hotel Apartments and registration for two in a duo of Bike Fest rides — one on Friday night (La Tour Nuit) and one on Sunday morning (Tour de l'Île de Montréal).

So what's Bike Fest anyway? It's pretty much a series of activities that happen every spring celebrating the bike as a way to get around their fair city. This year, they were celebrating their 25th anniversary! People come from all over but the main group populating the two enormous rides we were on came from Montreal. It's not a race, and it's not a charity-ride. It's really just people out riding their bikes for nothing but the fun of it. It boggles the mind, I know.

And when I say enormous rides, I mean it. There were three thousand riders out for a 20km loop on Friday night's Tour la Nuit, and Sunday, there was a reported 30,000 out for the 52km Tour de l'Île de Montréal. The city shut down the roads so cyclists reigned supreme. All along the routes, Montrealers lined the streets, stoops and balconies cheering, clapping, and using all sorts of noise-making paraphanalia to cheer us on our merry way. They decorated their lawns and gardens with lights, balloons and streamers. All this commotion just for the fun of bikes? I think Montreal is mecca.

The prize was a trip for two, so Gerhard and I shared in this surreal bike-friendly experience (the jaded Torontonian said). Our only regret was that we didn't bring our own costumes and noise makers. But we did remember the beer!



Bike Fest wasn't the only thing going on in Montreal that weekend. Coincidentally (?) Beer Fest was also going off. Our hotel was right in the thick of things so when we weren't Bike Fest-ing, we found all kinds of exhausting ways to spend our time between eating.

Friday night we hooked up with friends we discovered were also in town. We converged on Bar St Sulpice in the Latin Quarter on St. Denis. It wasn't until we were about to go in that I realized I might need ID to get by the bouncer. And of course, mine was in my hotel room. A bit of palm sweat, some palpitations and a clever, karma-bank -withdrawal-story about "leaving my wallet at the poutine place" and I was in. Didn't even have to bat an eyelash. Thank goodness because I would have felt pretty silly if we'd walked all the way down there just to get a coffee. We quickly discovered why Saint Sulpice is the shit. Four words for you: Largest Patio In Canada. Hit it up if you're in town.



So our "it's cool with me to just take it easy" Friday night ended up being a stay-til-close affair. That meant sleeping in on Saturday which worked out perfectly because the sun waited for us to finish our crepe breakfast before it got out of bed. We strapped on our hikin shoes and headed down to Old Montreal to walk off mild hangovers and take in the sites. Even the graffiti in Montreal is beautiful. After a good walk around, it was time to eat again. So we grabbed bikes and toured around a little more stopping at La Banquise for poutine. Which was retardedly amazing, with squeaky curds and everything. Mine had fries, curds and gravy, sure. But also bacon, sauteed mushrooms and smoked sausage. After carbo loading, we headed up to check out the view from Mont Royal. It was a bit more uphill riding than I bargained for.



We finished Saturday off with a traditional french meal of lamb and duck in Old Montreal. The waiter was a kind old fellow, who made a wonderful wine recommendation for us. The food was amazing, and both of us said it was one of the better meals we've ever had. I was blown away just by the rice. It was my first time having duck and I think I'll be scared to order it again because I don't see how it could live up to [insert forgotten restaurant name here]'s. After a wonderful dinner, we leaisurely made our way through Place Jacques Cartier, stopping to watch the street performers before hailing a cab back to our well appointed hotel room.

All too fast, Sunday arrived with an early start. We were delighted to find that the start of the big tour was right outside our hotel's entrance so we didn't have very far to go to meet up with the thousands of riders headed out for a spin. The sun was shining, but the temperature stayed perfect and we rode our tour like champions (in french, champions).



What better way to finish the trip than with a stop at Schwartz's for some smoked meats? We walked right in (rare that there's no line!) and feasted on beef and pickles. As we left Montreal, the clouds came out, and the rain started falling. Certainly helped curb the urge to just turn the van around.



A great weekend ... and new annual tradition? Riders (and eaters) wanted!

The Atherton Project

Episode 1

This first installment of The Atherton Project takes us from Rachel’s bedside to Gee’s gym sessions, and features the best footage you will see on the web from the first round of the UCI World Cup in South Africa. Check it out in all its HD glory...

Episode 2

The Athertons head to Houfalize, Belgium for the next round of the World Cup Series. Despite a bit of jetlag, Dan still manages to come good (with a little help from his brother). Red Bull are bringing The Athertons to you exclusively on MPORA and dirtmag.co.uk

Canada Cup on TV

A Channel segment from the local Simcoe County cable. Little interview with Norco's Andrew Watson. Women conspicuously absent from the reporting ... tsk tsk.