Mountains, deep blue skies, breathable air, no humidity, no storms—Missoula is Heaven!

The thing about bike races is that race directors generally try to schedule their events during the climatically best time of the year. We all get that. And we also get that the weather can always throw a mega curveball and ruin the best-prepared race. But for this year's Missoula XC mountain bike race, everything came together perfectly, creating a race weekend that I won't forget for a while, and only for the most positive of reasons.

Having learned from my long weekend in Virginia (a three-day race) I certainly wasn't going to check any luggage for a one-day event in Montana. The weather forecast was almost too perfect, and even though I packed an emergency rain jacket and long pants (plus a lightweight USA Cycling fleece), the Away pull-along was large enough for all my stuff, including officiating paraphernalia.

This time, my flights were not affected by the vagaries of weather. We left on time, both flights (to DFW and then onward to Missoula) were smooth and uneventful, and I got to enjoy myself. At the time I had made my reservation months ago I was still sitting on a soon-to-be-expiring systemwide upgrade, and instead of letting it just go up in smoke I decided to use it on such a pedestrian itinerary. (If you don't know, SWUs can be used for transatlantic and transpacific flights to upgrade from economy to business class [of course, always depending on availability, which has become scarcer and scarcer over the years], with savings potentials in the $2,000 to $4,000 or more range. But I just could not use the remaining two for the year in any other way than on a domestic flight.)

Once I got to Missoula, my old Canadian friend and mentor Fred from the Toronto area was waiting for me to take both of us to our hotel, the Center City Motel. I wouldn't mention the name of this tiny place if it weren't for the fact that its owner is one of the sponsors of the Missoula XC and comped the rooms for all officials. The hotel is an old motel, in the layout reminiscent of the untold thousands of shitholes of the likes of the Relax Inn, an OYO property in Jacksboro, TX, where I had to spend a miserable night earlier this year. But this time, instead of blood-stained bed sheets, broken TV-screens, and a foul bathroom my digs were immaculately clean, stood out with a modern design, and had friendly service. 

On Friday morning, Freddie and I went with Peter, the course dude, for the obligatory course inspection. In other words: That was our excuse to see the hinterland! The venue is located at Marshall Mountain, a former ski area that now serves as a type of mountain bike park, less than 15 minutes from downtown Missoula. The race director, Shaun, a slim, dynamic dynamo of a man, has built this race up to a true C1 level on the UCI cross-country circuit. I don't want to talk smack here, but the difference between the Virginia and the Montana races, both C1s, was staggering. I leave it at that.

Race director Shaun, on the left, with Peter and Fred

On Friday afternoon, after most of the crew had trundled in, we went out for a bit of dinner and brew-pubbing, or maybe in the revers order. Our Secretary was Leslie from Colorado, an official whom I consider the best at what she does for our high-level national and international races in the US. Our Finish Judge, Holly, from Utah, is rock-solid, and we have worked innumerable races together. The final member of our crew, Gal, currently lives in Bozeman and, as a UCI International Commissaire like Freddie (and myself, ex-officio) obviously knows his stuff. So, none of us really felt a need to talk about Saturday's race and rather enjoyed the ambience of our evening in Missoula's "downtown." 

Holly, Leslie, Gal, and Fred 

What is there to say about the race? It was near perfect. Had it not been for a computer bug in the timing company's software (took about 45 minutes to fix during which time we created podium results manually with a template from my laptop—always make sure Plan B is ready to be implemented)—and a SNAFU with the call-ups in one of the races (caused by ambiguous language in the regs), it would have been smoother than oiled butter. Overall, I'd give this race a 9.5 of a possible 10. I had so much fun starting all categories and then keeping my finger on the pulse of things; Gal was taking care of the feed zone and later the 80%, when I went to the feed/tech zone; Holly was happily scoring away; Leslie was churning out start and call-up lists and generating results; and Freddie just hung out and talked with everybody who would lend his or her ear. Freddie is one of the legends of our officials' tribe, one of the early commissaires of our still-young discipline and someone who knows more about the people and politics of the sport of mountain biking than anybody else. What a privilege to call him (and be called by him) my friend.

The most important part of every race: Do the racers have enough fun to want to come back next year (and drag a friend or two along)? You bet! Shaun, Abby, Seldon, Mike, and his altogether 16 staff members did all the right things. What about free ice cream for everybody, all day? What about t-shirts and stylish Skeds for the women that those making the podium could individualize with glitter and paint? What about a ginormous antler trophy for the UCI Elite men and women winners? What about swag galore, free beer (by Big Sky Brewing), and all the other stuff you can only dream of? We had 363 racers on Saturday, and I don't think anybody went home unhappy. In my book, this was the best-organized event that I have attended this year.

Saturday—race day—was a loooong day for everyone. Our crew ended up being something like 13 or 13.5 hours on the mountain; Shaun's people put in even more time. The sun eventually settled behind the mountains and things cooled off within minutes, and we finally drove down to the City Center Motel. That shower felt great! It actually felt so good that I was revived enough to venture out one last time to The Dram Shop (superb taproom!) for another pint of Lupujus 7, the award-winning IPA that Image Ination brews just a mile or two uptown—Fred and I had spent some time on Thursday afternoon at this top-three brewery in my book. I went out not because I am, as my brother is insisting, a hopeless alcoholic who needs help and counseling but rather because I realized that it will be a long time before I get to taste another glass of this amazing beer, surpassed only by Pliny the Elder (Russian River Brewing, Santa Rosa, CA) and Weihenstephan' s Vitus. If you've tasted more than 560 IPA in 26 or so countries and you get a chance to have a second pint of pure bliss on the same trip, what do you do?

Punctually at 5:30 a.m. on Sunday morning, Abby waited outside the CCM to take me back to the airport. She is an unbelievable worker, just like Shaun and all the others. I had to take opt for this early departure since there were no other flights that would have gotten me home on Sunday. Bummer, but that's the life of a commissaire.

And now I've been back in the Hub City for four days, enjoying evening thunderstorms and riding my bike in the relentless heat. I have started to work out the details for numerous upcoming trips, such as Munich, Provence, and Doha, with a few pretty major races thrown into the mix. Please be patient in regard to updates because chiefing our National Championships and being on the crew for both a World Cup and a World Championship requires a bunch of time. I am so fortunate. Enjoy the summer solstice next week!

Jürgen