Tuesday, September 10

UCI World Cuppage


That was a blur of epic proportions.  Every bit of it worth getting a room reserved almost eleven months ago and waiting in crazed anticipation ever since.

Drive up, check in (soooo smooth when no one else is there yet) and unpack the car.

Nick and I head out for a ride down at Silvercreek.  Bill Nye goes running and frolicking (I imagine) whilst we're out playing in the woods.

Get to ride a trail I'd never seen back in my XC riding days at Snowshoe.  Mebbe it wasn't there 20 years ago.  Who knows?  Lynwood Express was all the buenos,

Clean up, grab a couple for the walk around, run into frands.

Shoogs and a small part of his posse.

Plenty of time to soak in all the UCI'ness about the place.

Nick calls an audible on our walk back and we end up in some bar called Tuque's.  Put back a few and then head back to the room, hoping to get a semi-early start on Friday.

Wake up and Buck has arrived on scene.  Plans get re-shuffled, and we end up walking down the DH course watching the practice runs.  Get back and head back out to Silvercreek again, this time with Buck, Justin and Baxter in tow.  Knock out our second and also last ride of the weekend, get back, stuff our bikes in the back of the Honda Fit of Rage to keep them safe, and then return to the business of not getting to business.

Pack a bunch of beer... head over to the Short Track race.  Watch both the women's and men's fields put on a helluva show, head back to the room??

I think.

Get our shit together and head over to wherever it was we had to wait for who knows how long to catch a shuttle to a point pretty close (but not really) to the HandUp Gloves house to make party.

And what follows is very memorable, mostly regrettable, but certainly not completely felonious.

Get dropped off at the end of the road by the shuttle driver, start making the long hike down the gravel road... and get a scoop from a friendly Ohio feller.  Then there was a band, some forced shot-gunning of Naturdays (vomit), a head wound that was made worse by a poorly tossed beer can (empty), a beer shower in the living room (and a shameful cleanup), mosh pits...

I won't say who did what to keep certain actions from scarring people's reputations.

Some of us kept a very close eye on the time and our options for getting outta there.  Missing any boat going up the stream could make for a very painful six mile uphill walk.

We found ourselves back in the Ohio feller's pickup, and we (well, most of us anyways) made our way back to the comforts of relative safety.

Pretty sure we called it a night there.

Pretty but more ugly for sure.

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