700 (car) miles in Colorado

Just outside of Frisco, this side of Vail, on the way to Denver

What a beautiful week it has been! Yesterday, after seven stages, the USA Pro Challenge (also sometimes called the Tour of Colorado, a much better name) concluded in Denver, with roaring crowds who cheered on one of the sport's most-respected racers, Jens Voigt, during his farewell event. Jens unleashed one more heroic—if doomed—effort during the three-lap finishing circuit, only to be gobbled up the field. And that pretty much summed up how numerous stages had played out: breakaways that looked as if they might survive, only to be reeled back in by the hungry field. Exciting racing, let me tell you.

The final Jens-capade in downtown Denver. He will be missed by many.

It all started about 10 days ago with a pleasant flight to Aspen. I say "pleasant" because it was—an upgrade on a small regional jet from DFW, a planelet with only 12 First Class seats, and I happened to snag one of them. If you haven't heard of Aspen, you're probably one of my non-US friends, or you have lived under a rock. Aspen is the St. Moritz of the US. The ratio of billionaires vs. pauper millionaires is probably the highest anywhere west of Dubai. As one of the physicians with whom I worked put it: There is this monetary warp into unreality that exists nowhere else. The number of Aston Martins, Ferraris, Porsches, and other esoteric vehicles was just as amazing as the phalanx of private jets parked at the airport. So, maybe I was able to snag that upgrade only because none of the millionaires were coming to town.

The tough life of a jetsetter: in First on an Eagle ...

... then having a lovely pint at Snowmass ...

... only to settle down in the Westin

As always, I had to arrive early to be part of the Team Managers' Meeting, the conclave of commissaires, directeurs sportif, heads of the medical and law enforcement teams as well as representatives of the organizers. That's the day when I have to wear my blue blazer and a tie, sit alongside the big dogs on the dais, and give my little speech. Befittingly, we were put up in the Westin in Snowmass, at more than 8,000 feet elevation, among some of the most beautiful mountain scenery you can imagine. A little bit of well-timed flirting at check-in bought me a much appreciated upgraded room and a visit by the beer fairy.

Rails-to-trails between Aspen and Basalt

Crisp, early-morning ride

Just outside of Aspen

Snowmass is up the valley; those peaks are in the 12,500 ft range (right at about 3,800 meters)

It was here in Apen/Snowmass that I was able to ride the majority of the 80 miles that I covered all week on the Ritchey. For the remainder of the week, bad weather or mostly way too much work kept me from riding even a quick 15-miler before sunset. Oh well—80 is still more than zero. As it turned out, the racers also covered fewer miles than they had in Utah or California, so I was in good company.

Mavic's iconoclastic yellow support vehicles before the start of Stage 1 in Aspen

The photographers are in heaven!

Tour of Utah winner Tom Danielson (l) having a pre-race chat with
eventual UPC winner Tejay Van Garderen

The UCI commissaires assemble a jig that is used to measure the bikes before the Vail time trial

For transportation, I had a brand-new Lexus hybrid at my disposal. Man, that car rocked! It was a sporty as I would ever want (I do have a light foot and don't get a stiffy because I can lay down some rubber) and yet it delivered an average consumption of 46 mpg over the course of the 700 miles that I drove up and down Colorado's mountains. Unbelievable! Maybe I need to hold out for the first hybrid convertible that some car maker undoubtedly will offer before long. Lexus was one of the sponsors of the race, and it was impressive to see all those shiny new cars with the fancy decals and the special-edition license plates that were valid only for the duration of the race.

Just like me: sexy, sleek, and über-economical—the Lexus ES300h

Aren't these special-edition plates cool?

Like at all stage races, much travel between hotel and start and finish and the next hotel was involved, pretty much on a daily basis after our initial three nights in Snowmass.We stayed in Salida, Crested Butte, Breckenridge, Colorado Springs, Vail, and Denver, sometimes in posh places, but also in a Super 8. Don't even ask about the ADA-compliant room in the Eleganté! Since I never have to share a room, privacy is always a given. I usually have my meals by myself since my work is sometimes still ongoing when the commissaires have already changed into civilian clothes. And my paperwork is usually done when the others are snoring, or whatever they may be doing. I like it like that.

I love the beer fairy! (Her name is Bianca.)
This greeted me after getting back to my room after a 40 miler.
(I wish the beer fairy had stayed.)

So who cares whether it's not a Guinness glass?

Driving the Lexus over passes such as Independence or Monarch is infinitely easier than riding up those slopes, and one has more leisure to marvel at the countryside. As already hinted, the weather was not always cooperative, and that limited the vistas on occasion. Still, Colorado in the misty rain is still much more scenic than West Texas in bright sunshine. Not having to travel with the race caravan allowed me to stop for photos whenever I wanted, and yesterday I had enough time before I had to arrive in Denver that I stopped in the historic hamlet of Georgetown and wandered around what was a bustling place in the 1870s when ore was king here. Next time I come through I will make sure to plan a trip on the Loop Railroad. It is kinda crazy that every year I pay my share of taxes and insurance for the pretty house in Rico (in the Dolores valley that Judy and Mike's parents bequeathed upon them) yet so seldom go up there. Maybe in retirement!

Panoramic view toward the western half of the United States from Independence Pass

Unfortunately it was a cold, overcast day

Just like in Utah, I was working together with Fred and Candi who had driven their 36-foot RV from Steamboat to help at the race. The three of us really have bonded over the course of these two major stage races, and they have set a high standard for other helpers in the future. It sure is nice to make new friends like this. The same goes for some of the docs who helped out, one of them the cardiologist of president Ford. You can imagine some of the interesting conversations we had while waiting for riders.

A gallery of friends: Pamala Thullen, doing time-board duties

Steve Crews, letting the boys go after a neutral lap or two in Billionaire City

Cath Jett, best timer in the world and an even better friend

John Jett, Cath's apendage and just as great

Brad Sohner (l) and Dave Towle, the finish-line announcers who can whip any crowd into a frenzy

Colorado is a state that has an above-average number of micro breweries and brew-pubs. I was lucky enough to be able to use hotel shuttles and the like to go out in the evenings without having to touch the Lexus. Beer and pizza are certainly staples for this UCI dude, and in most towns where we overnighted we had been given $15 meal vouchers at various food establishment—among them, lucky for me, some that catered to hopheads. So even while we sometimes had to substitute lunch with that big jar of pretzels in Fred and Candi's RV, eventually we'd get fed.

Cute waitresses ...

... fine taps ...

... colorful beer menus

Life is good!

This was my third and final "grand tour" of the season. None of them came close to the scope (or length) of the Tour de France—thank goodness! After 10 days of being around bike racing you want to escape! It's a good thing that the likelihood of my working the TdF is very low as I'm not sure whether I would want to. Three weeks—really, with travel and pre-race days, an entire month—is a helluva long time to live out of a suitcase and subsist on a diet that's not always the healthiest. Still, the allure is always going to be there as working with the world's best cyclists, one on one, is an opportunity that very, very few of us have.

The yellow Mavic boys are coming!

For the uninitiated, Mavic has been providing neutral support at professional bike races forever

What maybe impresses me the most about the entire scene is how professional this sport and its participants are. Sure, there is the occasional outburst of expletives directed by a directeur sportif toward a commissaire as well as the public urination while the race is still in the neutral start and traversing Aspen's city streets (!!!) (both of which gained the offenders some heavy fines to be payable in CHF, or Swiss Francs), but overall these guys are all world-class. (Just today I learned that one offending DS sent a bouquet of flowers to the female commissaire whom he had berated.) I had zero problems with the riders with whom I had contact, or their team personnel, as it should be. These are not NFL linebackers who behave like big idiots. I like my sport, and I like what I do.

Isn't this worth it? I'm one lucky dude!

Downtown historic Georgetown

Book-sharing program alive and well

Next time I'll ride the train—the Loop Railroad in Georgetown

So, another good trip has come to its conclusion and I am putting on the finishing touches of this entry on my approach into Lubbock International Airstrip (LIA). Two-and-a-half days at home, and then another destination beckons. Stay tuned for some pics from a much more humid and hot place than Colorado. And in a week's time all that will be history and I'll be heading for Seattle. Whew ...

With these on the line, maybe I should return to racing....

Jürgen

Back in the Beehive State

The Beehive state—to recognize "industry" and the "pioneer spirit"

I am just coming off spending a bit more than a week in Utah, where I was part of the Tour of Utah crew. This was my second time to come out here for the race, the first time back in 2012. This year's route started in the south, in Cedar City, and we again ended up in Park City. In between there was some incredible countryside, but also a lot of driving and some pretty long days.

Panoramic view of the Devil's Backbone in Staircase-Escalante NM

Altogether I drove a little over 1,250 miles in the brand-new Honda mini-van that the organizers had given me. I am happy to report that I didn't scrape it up the way I did with my rental in California! As usual, I had taken along my Ritchey, and I somehow managed to squeeze in 169 miles of riding during those past 10 days on the road. The shortest ride I took was a measly 16 miles, while yesterday's 41 miles around the Park City area felt more like 82 thanks to all the climbing!

Red Canyon

The racing was exciting, and maybe you caught some of  it on television or a YouTube replay or two of some of the key moments. I don't get to see much of the race, but usually I'm there at the finish line, and things are pretty exciting, let me tell you! The Tour of Utah is billed as "America's Toughest Stage Race," and from what some of the racers told me, it is indeed hard, maybe even "ridiculously" and "over-the-top" so, as two of them put it—and these guys weren’t cannon fodder, either.

Cadel ain't cannon fodder....

... and neither are they ...

... nor is he—Jens Voigt

The Tour of Utah is not as big as the AMGEN Tour of California. The UCI ranks the latter as a 2.HC event, while the ToU is “only” a 2.1. However, that may be only a proper reflection of the prize purse and who shows up to race (fewer Pro Tour teams and more Continental and Continental Pro teams at Utah) and not necessarily an indication of the difficulty of the individual stages. Regardless, I am glad that I’m not a pro racer and have to make my money in what is undoubtedly one of the world’s most demanding sports.

Bike ...

... rides

After arriving in Salt Lake City a week ago Saturday, I went through what is called in-processing, was given several gas cards and the keys to the Odyssey, and was off on my way to Cedar City, about 230 miles to the south. The late-afternoon drive was made a little less tedious thanks to a passenger whom I had to ferry to the tour’s start, Erin, from New York, who was working on the construction crew—a carnie, if you so want. At 80 mph, we zipped down I-15, with the Wasatch mountains to the east and other ranges to the west. The setting sun cast a beautifully soft light on this open expanse of pasture land, occasional irrigated farmland, and much, much open range.

One of many ponies in Ogden

Leftover foundry equipment in Orem

On Sunday, the day of the Team Managers’ Meeting and other general preparatory tasks, it rained. Dang, I thought, here I have come to arid Utah and it rains. But by late afternoon things had cleared up and I was able to ride 20 miles before sunset, on smooth roads that were essentially devoid of any traffic—I encountered fewer than ten cars during my ramble through the pastoral setting of “greater” Cedar City. Incidentally, Ginger Bartos from the WTCA just moved out here!

On a rails-to-trails bike path outside of Park City

Utah—land of happy wetlands

The race started on Sunday, and from then on much traveling was involved. Whenever possible, I’d try to make it to the stage start to pick up the day’s start list, grid, and communiqué, and of course I would then have to rush to the stage finish where my real work started. For all but one stage we then would have to travel from the finish line to our hotel for the night, which could be as far away as two hours. And in between I’d have to find a FedEx .... On the third stage, I drove a whopping 420 miles total, having left the hotel at 7:30 a.m. and finally checking into the next one shortly before 10 p.m.

Entering Staircase-Escalante NM

But these drives were beautiful! Just like in California, I sometimes had to pinch myself and tell myself, yes, the UCI is really paying me to come out here and see all of this. One stage led by Zion National Park and the Staircase-Escalante National Monument, with the Red Canyon thrown in for good measure. I saw the ski resort at Bryan Head, and the mountain top finish at Powder Mountain (as well as the one at Snowbird) was spectacular just from the scenery. Utah is an amazing state in regard to its scenery and outdoor opportunities, and it is clear why the Tour of Utah is a powerful merchandizing tool.

You gotta give it to 'em: They put their money where their mouth is

Helping me in my work were Fred and Candi Garrison, who live in Steamboat Springs, CO. They own a huge RV that they drove from stage finish to stage finish to help me in my work. We spent several nice evenings dining out, when all the work was done. Orem, Ogden, Park City—we had a good time in all of them.

Fred and Candi in front of their 12,342,538-foot RV

That I found enough time to ride those 169 miles is surprising even to me. My days weren’t finished when I checked into the hotel: There’s always paperwork to file and prep work to be done for the next day. I don’t think I hit the rack before midnight but once. And then it was so hard to get up shortly after 7 a.m., make a cup of coffee and eat a granola bar while getting kitted up and getting out for a quick spin before having to put on the white shirt (ironed the night before—prep work!) and heading for the next stage’s start. In a quiet moment I talked to one of the team doctors, himself a former Olympian, and asked him whether he got to ride any during an event like this, and he said, no, no way. He expressed surprise that I managed to put in a few miles each day and complimented me on my discipline. Well, that made me feel good, but it was still hard.

The Jordanelle reservoir state park

The up from left to right was much steeper than the pic betrays

Downhill—always a welcome sight, even if you know you'll have to pay later

My longest ride of the week came on the last day of the tour. The stage had an unusually late start in Park City (most likely dictated by TV schedules), so I had time until about noon. Mind you, I didn’t sleep all that well because I was worried that the 40-mile route I had chosen might be too ambitious for my work schedule. Heck, I should have known better: Even with some real (and I mean real) climbs thrown in, I can ride 12 miles in an hour. The ride was beautiful, challenging, and tough, but I made it in time to get dressed up for the finish of the final stage, which—if you watched, you will agree—was a lesson in how to descend and nail a win in the last turn.

In the hotel: laundry bag waiting for a soigneur to wash the kit before the next day's stage

So, it was a great week in Utah. I got to work with some world class athletes, had the pleasure of interacting with numerous eager volunteers, made two new friends in Fred and Candi, and enjoyed the support of truly supportive organizers. For a befitting finale, I did a bit of sightseeing before today's departure. I will hold off on spouting out my thoughts about Joseph Smith and what drives Utah until I learn more about it, but I have to say that the headquarters of the beehive in Salt Lake City were quite impressive. If flowers, huge buildings, a wonderful organ, and lots of white shirts, name tags, and black suits will propel you to heaven, well, go for it!

The Temple, in the back, is not a church at all—it has rooms to get wed in, study halls, and other non-temple-like grottoes

I happened to catch the noon recital in the Tabernacle. Wow!

Speaks for itself, doesn't it?

So, despite the covert promise of a polygamous lifestyle I once again headed home, for four days, to be exact. I'll do laundry, work on the odd bike, and tend to my weeds. What a way to live, not just exist.

Jürgen