Ocean Brown and Seaweed, aka H10 Ocean Blue and Sand

Here comes a word of advice: Don't travel to the Punta Cana area of the Dominican Republic between the middle of May through the end of July, unless you are really into seaweed wrestling. Ah, the things they don't tell us in the brochures and on the websites! I like to think of myself as a savvy traveler, yet this tidbit of information had eluded me—actually, it had never even remotely appeared on my radar, which was much more calibrated toward tropical depressions and hurricanes.

Thankfully, the sound of the Atlantic's waves is still the same when you close your eyes and try to ignore the tons and tons of biomass that wash ashore on a daily basis in the DR's best-known tourist area in early summer. 

Sandy and I had left Lubbock on Independence Day, splurging on First class tickets on the way to Charlotte, where we overnighted in the airport Sheraton (freebie credit card certificate). I'm pretty much done with the old upgrade game, which has become increasingly frustrating with most flights having only one empty upgrade seat left at the gate and 37 passengers vying for it. The next day's Business class flight to Punta Cana was delayed by two hours, thanks to one of AA's many irrops this year. Once in the air, the three-and-a-half-hour long flight to PUJ gave us spectacularly beautiful views of the Bahamas and numerous small islands and shallow sandbanks. (On the way back, we actually could see large areas of drifting seaweed off Hispaniola's east coast.)

Sandy captured the in-flight pics with her and my camera

Immigration into the DR is now a fairly straightforward affair, as long as you have completed the immigration paperwork ahead of time and downloaded the admittance QR code to your smartphone. Let me refine this statement: It should be straightforward, but since there's still a manual passport check by an officer the queues are still long after scanning the code.

I had arranged for our ground transfer to the resort through Viator, at a reasonable $55 for the two of us for the return trip—both times we were the only passengers in the vehicles despite the "shared transportation" billing. Over the years, I have found Viator to offer some of the best prices for such transfers.

The H10's resident flamingo and his feline buddies

Of course, it wouldn't have been H10 had we simply waltzed into what is labeled the "VIP reception," paid our all-inclusive fee, and been happily on the way to our room. Oh no, that would have been too simple. Instead, it took two hours to get our room ready, and the accommodations were as disappointing as any over all those years of having to go to battle at H10 for an acceptable room. Not only were we looking straight onto the perimeter fence of the property and the small service road, but we also had to contend with two single beds after having asked weeks ahead of time for a king size bed. The name on the welcome letter said it all.

I had really wanted to make this an enjoyable vacation for Sandy, who doesn't get around as much or as often as I do. The next afternoon, after annoying discussions and endless WhatsApp messages with our "butler," Timothe, we were able to move into a much nicer room with a view of the pool, a glimpse of the Atlantic, and an adult bed, but do we really have to waste an entire day of our vacation with such issues? During what most likely was H10's last chance to keep me as a customer after my contract ends in December I told the timeshare salesman what my experience has been over the years, and it was obvious that he had heard similar accounts of problems small and large many times over. After an hour, we simply walked out.

I had been to the Ocean Blue and Sand in December of 2016, and my general impression had been mostly positive, even if the overall experience certainly did not match earlier trips to H10 properties in Mexico. In the nine years since then, service and food presentation and quality have lost their luster almost completely—sorry, no food porn this time around. Sandy very quickly picked up on the general lack of "interest in the guest" the local staff display, with only a few exceptions. Sad, but true. Five days on the ground was enough to get tired of the menus as well as trying to get a server's attention.

This young barista was one of the few genuinely friendly staff

Enough of all that. We spent most of our daytime hours in one of the sun loungers overlooking the beach, with frequent excursions into one of the two very nice pools that form the centerpiece of the resort. The sun loungers were very close to the beach Tiki Bar so that we didn't mind getting our drinks—the advertised and promised waiter service never did materialize. The pools featured swim-up bars, and so it was easy to while away hour upon hour just floating and looking at the well-placed palms and other vegetation. We both thought that the architecture of the resort was rather attractive, and of course the grounds were well manicured.

One day we tried to go for a walk on the beach, but it was tedious (and at times truly uncomfortable) walking over and through the seaweeds. The various resorts employ heavy front-end loaders to remove as much of the brown mass as possible, but the stuff drifts in faster than it can be removed. When I had been at this resort in 2016, the beach was just recovering from the destructive forces of a hurricane, and there was a lot of erosion. By now, new sand has accumulated and fresh palm trees are growing; looking at the white breakers marking the small barrier reef maybe 600 feet out (and the turquoise water that fills in the area toward the beach) shows how pretty this place is—just not at your feet.

Since the coastline is not completely straight but features a few small points and bays, there were a few short stretches of beach that were not completely covered by seaweed. Of course, those areas changed with the direction of the wind, but at least it was possible to enter the water for that Atlantic experience. Nevertheless, the swimsuits collected enough flotsam so that we ventured into the sea just once.

Back in Fat Old Men's Speedo Land—I fit right in!

We pretty much lucked out with the weather as there were a couple of completely clear days, and the rest of the time big, billowy clouds chased one another across the sky. Of course, it was damn muggy, even if it wasn't really all that hot. A few brief showers kept the sauna fully charged. As I said, the pools were an excellent place to be during the daylight hours, and we had our breakfasts and lunches on the breezy porch of the Privilege lounge.

Like at all these resorts, evening entertainment often involves bingo and karaoke. We missed out on the beach-front fire show, mainly because it had rained pretty hard earlier that evening and we were glad to be dry in our air-conditioned room after a full day in the sun. Maybe we're just getting old as the thought of going to the disco never crossed our minds, and even the bowling alley didn't hold much attraction for us ...

Just don't ask "Why?"

After five nights in the Ocean Blue and Sand it was time to fly back home, this time via Miami. Our flight to Dallas was delayed a bit, but we had enough layover time to enjoy the DFW Admiral's Club before it was time to make it to our gate. Alas, it was another one of those weather days, and instead of arriving in Lubbock a little before midnight on Thursday we got into our Uber at almost 2:30 a.m. Friday morning.

I suppose not all trips can be perfect; still, Sandy enjoyed herself more than I could have hoped and that, in turn, made me happy.

Jürgen

Back in the Heber Valley for another UCI race at Soldier Hollow

It may just be my longest-running annual pilgrimage as far as bike races are concerned: Since 2017, I have been part of the SoHo Bike Fest in one function or another (excluding the COVID hiatus, of course). I love coming out to the beautiful Heber Valley, just about an hour up the road from Salt Lake City and past Park City. While Heber City has grown over the years and added many new businesses mainly along US-40, Midway—located in the northwestern part of the valley, among small volcanic domes—has maintained its Swiss charm and quaintness. As in years past, we were housed in the Zermatt, a decent hotel that is slowly starting to show its age in the carpeted corridors, the straight shower-curtain rods, and the 1980s decor of the clean-but-tired guestrooms. 

But we didn't spend much time in either the hotel (sleep only) or the towns of Heber and Midway (two dinners). From the time of my arrival on Thursday afternoon until Sunday evening well after 8 p.m., I and our crew were at the venue, with some folks pushing even longer hours. For this year's edition I was a simple crew member; the UCI PCP was Jim from Canada, while Justin (see last week's race report from Idaho) was the assistant chief, responsible for the amateur portion of the event). Rounding out the crew were Tobin from Telluride, our race secretary; Holly, our Utah-based finish judge; and Kris, another crew member also hailing from the Beehive state. (We also were lucky to be joined by Arden, a freshly minted USAC official who volunteered to get some experience, and Kris' partner, Darcy, who pitched in by playing runner between start and finish, relaying paperwork.)

From left, Holly, Tobin, Justin, Jim, moi, and Kris

All of us established commissaires had worked together on numerous occasions, helping the race run smoothly. Sure, there were the usual registration issues as well as the occasional results glitch, but overall, it was a well-oiled machine. Jon and Devon from One2Go Timing were also known entities, and only the announcer, Matt, was new to the event. (He may have worked SoHo in 2024 when I was here for anti-doping during the PanAmericans and didn't see or hear much of the outside competition.)

Justin, always working—even at dinner

Kris, Devon, and Holly during packet pick-up

Holly at the finish line

During registration with two local volunteers

SoHo always has a very ambitious schedule that incorporates both the UCI crowd as well as amateurs, with special emphasis on sheer countless numbers of junior categories. Overall, an estimated 700 to 800 individual racers participated in three days of short track (XCC) and cross country (XCO) events, and about a half dozen nations were represented by the 120 or so UCI pros. Soldier Hollow was the venue for the Nordic events of the 2002 Salt Lake City Winter Olympics, and with an eye on the 2034 Winter Games its facilities have already been updated and expanded. Bringing a UCI World Cup next year to SoHo will be yet another testing opportunity for the crew around GM Luke and Josh, the actual Race Director.

Eighty riders waiting for their call-ups for the XCO

Seeking shade before one of the women's XCO starts

One of many short track starts

For a cross country race, this may be one of the most spectator-friendly courses that I know. Fans can watch the racers for almost one minute climbing up an asphalted path (in the winter the basis for one of the many loipes) and then enter singletrack, heading in a diagonal pattern up the hillside and stretching out the field in a most brutal way. The 5K-long race course passes twice through the biathlon stadium where the feed/tech zone is located, allowing spectators to cheer on their racers (and support personnel to hand up water and nutrition) about every seven to eight minutes. And finally, looking toward the south side of the course, those with binoculars or good eyesight get a chance to follow the progress of the leaders for several more minutes. The layout of the finish is excellent and makes up for some of the lack of sexy race infrastructure at the XCO start. Seriously, no banners? Not even tape across the start line? C'mon folks!

Not the most impressive UCI XCO start area

Luke (left) and Josh at one of many
awards ceremonies over the course of the weekend

SoHo's Olympic biathlon stadium

For a ski center in Utah—at an elevation of about 5,600 or feet or 1,700 meters—the temperature was very high, pushing close to the 90°-degree mark. The mornings were cool and absolutely wonderful, but by noon the unrelenting sun was baking racers, spectators, and officials alike. I was glad I had brought a spray bottle of SPF-50 sunscreen, applying a fresh layer every three or so hours. Each time the racers passed through the feed zone they would take up ice socks and dump a bottle of water over their heads. For those of you unfamiliar with the rules, for safety reasons support personnel are not allowed to spray water on their riders, but the racers can douse themselves. Some of the slower riders looked positively miserable toward the end of their race. It was so hot that we decided to shorten by a lap a few of the mid-afternoon amateur races to keep riders safe.

Wrapping things up, it was another successful Bike Fest out there at Soldier Hollow. We celebrated with a few cold ones at Melvin's Public House in Heber City after the final finisher had crossed the line around 8:30 p.m. on Sunday night, exhausted but exuberant that she had completed her three-lap race against one solitary adversary.

Team Trusty Switchblade's Sarah Umberhandt celebrating her
second place in the women's Cat.2 40+ event ...

... while Kris, Justin, and Darcy celebrate the
end of the race weekend in front of Melvin's Public House

Monday morning, Jim and I piled into Tobin's Jeep and headed down to the SLC airport to be dropped off for our respective flights. Instead of playing the Russian Roulette upgrade game I had paid $100 for seats up front, a good decision with a plane full of locals and their many children.

Without any flight delays I was back in Lubbock a little before 8 p.m., and I was grateful that Sandy, on the spur of the moment, had decided to pick me up. Three days at home until vacation!

Jürgen