Last weekend we charged the first international Maxxis Cup. First up, a little background info: Im originally from the northern California area, go to school at CalPoly SLO, and am spending the year studying abroad in Alicante, Spain. I also ride bikes, and like to engage in fun hobbies like drinking and talking.
Thursday night rolls around, and I get about an hour and a half of sleep after doing homework and stuff all night long. Friday morning, after a quick, half-hour ride into town with everything (I can only travel with what I can carry on my bike), its an hour on the train to get into Altea. In Altea, I met Perre and Alberto. Perre owns a bike shop, and Alberto is a professional slacker. After gathering up all their stuff, eating, and taking waaaay too long to get rolling, we drive the 167km up to Valencia, meeting Peter who had rented a van. We leave Valencia around 6pm.
Peter the Pirate:
After about a half hour on the freeway, it comes to my attention that were driving 0 km/hour, and the van has 0 km on the trip odometer. Huh? Turns out Peter disconnected the odometer/speedo cable after renting the van for the cheapest, 100km rent available!
We roll across the border around midnight after seeing the cathedral in Salamanca, which will amaze you. I took to the wheel at about 1am, and once on the right road, we spend the next 3 hours climbing a huge mountain at breakneck speeds in the rain. Roll in to the campsite at 4 am, run around like kids on Christmas, and crash out.
Gouveias Church
Gouveias School
Gouveias nicest hotel (that we did not stay at ? )
Saturday morning we got in about 7 or 8 practice runs. The course was rad, really fast with a couple tech rock sections and a road gap at the bottom. It was more of a smoother track, with lots of braking bumps, and two or three rock gardens (or jumps, if youre a hucker).
Saturday evening, we roll into town, and it starts to pour rain. Dumping buckets of rain. Dang. Once we find a nice little bar to eat in, the waiter brings us some really good Portugese beer. Everyone manages to pound at least 4 heavy beers before the meal is served. Everyone then eats like a king, enjoys more beer, and we arrange to stay at some shady ranchers house. We swing by the local club, and meet some ladies. They speak a little English, and understand our Spanish, but the language of love knows no boundaries.
Gouveias finest
Around midnight we intend to go to the house were crashing at, and hop in the van. Yours truly immediately blacks out in the back seat, and wakes up as the van crashes into a solid object. Somehow, the driver got lost and managed to find a discotech/club with a trials demo. After 2 hours and 100 drunken experts assist in freeing the car from the pole/mud/embankment, we enter the club only to realize were covered in mud and exhausted. Of course, they want to charge us 7 euro to leave the club, so we leave by running past the bouncers and looking confused. I also farted next to a bouncer.
Gawdammit
Sunday morning is the race, and everyone is damn hung over. After some huge coffees and a lot of water, its on. First race run, I got a good top part, get through the first two rock gardens way smoother and faster than in practice, but on the third, huck a little too far and land off course in the tape. After pulling the tape out of the front wheel, putting the bike back on track, and starting over, I got the best corner of my entire life, and cruised down the rest of the hill for a 2:30.
Some American kook studying abroad in Spain on the final road gap:
Fabien won with a 2:09, and he was flying. I saw him nearly die in his second run, that man is insane. Heres a couple more pics:
Oscar Saiz
David Vasquez
Nico Vink
We all made it back to Alicante/Altea by 8am the next morning, despite sleep deprivation, running out of gas, needing to unpack and repack numerous times, several traffic jams, and a lot of gum.
Thursday night rolls around, and I get about an hour and a half of sleep after doing homework and stuff all night long. Friday morning, after a quick, half-hour ride into town with everything (I can only travel with what I can carry on my bike), its an hour on the train to get into Altea. In Altea, I met Perre and Alberto. Perre owns a bike shop, and Alberto is a professional slacker. After gathering up all their stuff, eating, and taking waaaay too long to get rolling, we drive the 167km up to Valencia, meeting Peter who had rented a van. We leave Valencia around 6pm.
Peter the Pirate:
After about a half hour on the freeway, it comes to my attention that were driving 0 km/hour, and the van has 0 km on the trip odometer. Huh? Turns out Peter disconnected the odometer/speedo cable after renting the van for the cheapest, 100km rent available!
We roll across the border around midnight after seeing the cathedral in Salamanca, which will amaze you. I took to the wheel at about 1am, and once on the right road, we spend the next 3 hours climbing a huge mountain at breakneck speeds in the rain. Roll in to the campsite at 4 am, run around like kids on Christmas, and crash out.
Gouveias Church
Gouveias School
Gouveias nicest hotel (that we did not stay at ? )
Saturday morning we got in about 7 or 8 practice runs. The course was rad, really fast with a couple tech rock sections and a road gap at the bottom. It was more of a smoother track, with lots of braking bumps, and two or three rock gardens (or jumps, if youre a hucker).
Saturday evening, we roll into town, and it starts to pour rain. Dumping buckets of rain. Dang. Once we find a nice little bar to eat in, the waiter brings us some really good Portugese beer. Everyone manages to pound at least 4 heavy beers before the meal is served. Everyone then eats like a king, enjoys more beer, and we arrange to stay at some shady ranchers house. We swing by the local club, and meet some ladies. They speak a little English, and understand our Spanish, but the language of love knows no boundaries.
Gouveias finest
Around midnight we intend to go to the house were crashing at, and hop in the van. Yours truly immediately blacks out in the back seat, and wakes up as the van crashes into a solid object. Somehow, the driver got lost and managed to find a discotech/club with a trials demo. After 2 hours and 100 drunken experts assist in freeing the car from the pole/mud/embankment, we enter the club only to realize were covered in mud and exhausted. Of course, they want to charge us 7 euro to leave the club, so we leave by running past the bouncers and looking confused. I also farted next to a bouncer.
Gawdammit
Sunday morning is the race, and everyone is damn hung over. After some huge coffees and a lot of water, its on. First race run, I got a good top part, get through the first two rock gardens way smoother and faster than in practice, but on the third, huck a little too far and land off course in the tape. After pulling the tape out of the front wheel, putting the bike back on track, and starting over, I got the best corner of my entire life, and cruised down the rest of the hill for a 2:30.
Some American kook studying abroad in Spain on the final road gap:
Fabien won with a 2:09, and he was flying. I saw him nearly die in his second run, that man is insane. Heres a couple more pics:
Oscar Saiz
David Vasquez
Nico Vink
We all made it back to Alicante/Altea by 8am the next morning, despite sleep deprivation, running out of gas, needing to unpack and repack numerous times, several traffic jams, and a lot of gum.
