2022 Trophy of Nations

A few days prior, I received an unexpected and rather exciting email from the EWS Trophy Of Nations organizers notifying me that I had qualified for the Canadian Masters team. 3 weeks prior to the start of practice to be exact. Not a lot of time to plan an international trip let alone one that involved an EWS race in a country totally unfamiliar to me. Or to determine if budgets would allow for such a trip.

For those unfamiliar with The EWS Trophy Of Nations, it’s the World Championships of enduro mountain biking with a twist. That twist being racing in teams of 3 plus a reserve rider for any unplanned hiccups. With competitive mountain biking being mostly a solo endeavour, this race changed things up by taking the season's overall top 4 riders from each category and their respective country to form teams. On race day that team’s times 3 riders are totalled up from each stage for an overall time for the day. 

Upon receiving my invitation I learned who my teammates would be, two legends from British Columbia Ted Morton and Craig Wilson. I hadn’t had the opportunity to spend much time with either but knew them well from their exploits in the mountain biking scene back home. Both did much for the riding community and are ultra-talented riders. Ted hailing from Kamloops is behind the Canadian Enduro Series and made huge strides in growing the race scene in Canada while giving back to each venue by way of funds going back to trails. Craig is well known for building Hey Bud and maintaining other lines around Whistler. The reserve rider was Brandon Cassell, an OG rider and racer from back east who has been racing for over 20 years.

Each had made their own mark on races throughout the years. This made me even more excited to accept the invitation. The chance to travel, ride, race, and learn with three legends in the game was even more intriguing to an already amazing opportunity. I really couldn’t say no to racing with this team now!

From the moment of accepting the invitation, it was a mad scramble to race prep bikes, organize travel, accommodations, insurance, time off work…all the fun stuff that you normally wouldn’t leave until two weeks before departure. Our WhatsApp group pinged often with messages of to-do’s and excitement. Then as time tends to do under deadlines, those days disappeared rather quickly. Before we knew it we were leaving home for the airport with much anticipation. 

Fourteen hours later, we arrived in Nice. Long-haul travel leaves you in a hazy kind of way. Tired as one would ever find themselves but once you step foot on land again, you re-energize. Hop into a rental car and it’s almost like you’ve had a full night’s sleep with the excitement of new sights, sounds, and experiences. Another hour later and it hits you like a freight train, tiredness like you’ve never experienced and the remaining 30 minutes of driving turns into a battle of lucidity. That’s exactly when Ted messaged me asking if I’d be in for a shuttle or ride. They had arrived slightly earlier than us in Finale Ligure and managed to build their bikes up before even taking bags into our apartment. This was the moment I realized I was with my people. The kind of people that eschew any kind of healthy requirements like sleep or rest just to get a ride in. My mind instantly thought “You son of a bitch, I’m in”. I eagerly texted back, “Sounds great!”

I’ve always felt bikes are the best way to experience a country. You’re immersed in the landscape and move slowly enough that you’re able to take in everything. Something that a car can’t always provide. But you also move fast enough to cover ground and experience a host of different landscapes, people, and views that would be drastically reduced on foot. Like our first attempt at eating an olive from a tree. You most likely wouldn’t have done that travelling in a car but on a bike, you couldn’t help but notice them as we climbed up through a terraced mountainside chock full of ripe olive trees. In case you were wondering, they taste terrible. Turns out there’s a reason fresh from the tree olives aren’t a thing.

Besides that impromptu trailside lesson, we became familiar with our new home away from home. As our crew pedalled up ancient paths we were treated to views of the surrounding villages and sea.

The trail wound through what we learned to be ancient sources of ice and water for the town’s inhabitants below. Keeping your eyes on the trail almost became secondary while riding through the ancient canals and structures.

The exit of the trail had us going through tunnels between buildings and centuries-old churches. It’s a wild sensation to be on a mountain bike ride and feel like you’ve travelled a whole day in a foreign country. Doing this alongside the crew on day 1 going on 24 hours of no sleep in Finale Ligure was the absolute best way we could have started this whole adventure. 

Even though the ride was relatively short due to the fading light, we accomplished much. Our first team ride. A small yet valuable recon of the area’s trail characteristics. Most importantly though, life and riding bikes in Finale Ligure is pretty sweet. Hell, life in general is pretty damn perfect on the Ligurian coast. Judging by how happy and fulfilled the locals seemed to be, we were in a good place to be riding and racing our bikes. 

The coming days were a cram session in becoming a perfectly functioning enduro team. We rode long days in new places, got lost in foreign trail networks and found ourselves caught in cold mountain storms with no jackets to speak of. We rode stupid amounts of vertical with no food and barely a splash of water to which Craig so eloquently summed up by saying “Sometimes life is hard”. And he was right, sometimes it was. 

But sometimes it is oh so easy on the Italian Riviera. Like when we stumbled upon a refugio just as the temperature dropped and rain fell upon our ill-prepared backs. A hospitable Italian woman running it sorted us out with a moka pot of coffee and 3 pieces of cake. Or the epic shuttle day we rode lap after lap at full pace down new trail after new trail in the Andora Bike Park and celebrated our temporary Italian life by the sea with margaritas, and grappa at the beach. And of course, when it comes to easy living nothing beats those post-ride swims in the famous blue Ligurian sea.

But what did this have to do with racing? Team building.

There’s something about mutual suffering as well as pure unbridled fun that really brings people together.

Making unforgettable memories while chasing your passion is the best way you could bond a crew of people together and make them a well-functioning team. And did it ever. It was a crash course in becoming good teammates and great friends. We hadn’t even picked up our race plates yet and we were having the time of our lives. Ted had mentioned how even if we weren’t here to race this was already just a great riding trip. Something that would continually resonate with me throughout the trip. 

Needless to say, by the time practice rolled around it was as if we had been hanging out and riding together for years. We were comfortable on each other’s tires and had learned the nuances of each other’s riding styles. Everything had come together so seamlessly. Even practice itself was just another best day ever spent riding the wild trails of Finale. Had this been the end of the trip right here, it all would’ve been worth it. But it wasn’t the end, it was just the beginning. 

When race day finally rolled around, it was in stark contrast to the days we had leading up to it. I felt a discernible difference in the air other than the unusually cool, wet, weather of the day. Race days for me generally involve a bit of excitement and trepidation. This one however trended more towards anxiety.

I’m not sure if my teammates felt the same but there was a level of nervousness I hadn’t felt in many years before a race.

It wasn’t the international level of the race necessarily, but rather the format. Racing as a team, with all times combined over the course of a day meant that the team relied on each other for our result. A surreal and foreign feeling when racing enduro.

On the flip side, there was a calm energy in our apartment that morning. All of us went about our pre-ride routine in the manner we had in the previous week when every day was the best day ever with the boys. It eased some of the apprehension going through my mind and instead helped me to focus on the positives. All the moments of shredding with confidence on our fun rides, the memorization of the course from practise yesterday, and the stoke we all felt,  allowed an escape from dwelling on potentially letting my teammates down.

The team format of Trophy Of Nations is interesting in that the only rule for dropping in is that you all must start within your allotted 60 seconds. You can either start together or space out as you see fit. We chose the former since there were no concerns about obscured vision from dust or mud. We also found over our days of riding and training together that with a bit of stoke from following each other, we were faster…and having way more fun. Which is exactly why we were here. To go fast AND have fun.

We dropped into stage 1, keeping the go fast and have fun mantra playing over in my head, seeing Ted out in front and hearing Craig close behind, was reason enough for me to go a little faster than I would have on my own. After a number of close calls on icy, slick roots and sliding around on dirt that was velcro the day before, I realized that dialling it back slightly may be a good call. Considering it was the beginning of a 15 minute plus stage it was only a matter of time before a bigger mistake may happen. 

Just as I had felt like we were settling in, disaster struck. I got a little too sideways and my back wheel slid sideways into a rut prior to a corner and ended up getting high-sided. While still crashing Craig managed to get by me unimpeded as I did my best to yell out “All good!”. In some sort of wild luck, I ended up grabbing my bike before it stopped moving, hopped on, and kept going. Disaster somewhat avoided…

Ted had dropped us by this point so we still had hope that between the 3 of us, our time wouldn’t be too affected. When regrouping at the finish of stage 1, I noticed Ted nursing a quickly swelling elbow. Turned out he had also gone over the bars too. Not quite the start we were hoping for but also relatively minor considering what we got away with while still having a lot of racing ahead of us. 

During the liaison to stage 2, we stayed positive and put the crashes behind us. It was easy to keep an optimistic attitude with the crew we had. Besides the motivated and can-do attitude from my teammates, we were riding our bikes through some of rural Italy’s most scenic forests and competing in a one-of-a-kind world championships event. Having a bad attitude at this point would’ve been difficult at best. Especially after reaching the feed station. If there’s anything that can lift a mood it’s the extravagance of an Italian race spread. 

With the crashes of Stage 1 relegated to ancient memory and further buried by Italian pastries, we made our way to the start of Stage 2. Upon check-in, we were surprised to learn that out of the teams that had checked in so far we were sitting in first place. There were still some strong teams yet to register a time but just knowing we were still in the mix bolstered our determination.

We dropped into stage 2 with renewed fervour, Ted leading the charge and Craig close behind. This was the longest stage of the day and an opportunity for us to make up for our mistakes in stage 1. The pace we set out of the gate showed that urgency. The first 1/3 of the 7 km/850 m descent of Mega Roller was high-speed, undulating terrain that tested your leg abilities to withstand quad-crushing, out-of-the-saddle sprinting. Craig and Ted proved they were fully up to the task as I had to work my absolute hardest to keep them within reach.

The fear of letting your teammates down will make you dig deep into places you didn’t think existed. I vividly remember my legs screaming at me to give up as we reached the last climb before the downhill test began. 

Just as the last of the sprint was coming up, disaster two struck. Ted pulled over hastily, something clearly wrong mechanically. With no options other than to continue on full pace ahead, Craig and I soldiered on with hopes that Ted’s issue was relatively minor. The need for a clean, fast run resting squarely on our shoulders to stay in the mix.

While the final climb disappeared behind us and the big descent began, we were struck again by the randomness of racing. Craig had what looked to be an inconsequential washout. Seeing him retrieving his bike rather quickly as I passed by led me to believe this was just another small bump to overcome in the day’s race. Not a big deal, we’re still in this! 

Running through the finish line gauntlet of stage 2’s raucous spectators wasn’t quite the same without my teammates but I considered myself lucky at this point to have made it unscathed. I immediately turned back hopeful Ted and Craig wouldn’t be too far behind. Craig showed up first, about 30 seconds behind. The minor looking crash had left his bike worse for wear. Not quite in a DNF state but by no means a guarantee to make it through the rest of the day. Yet he showed no signs of letting that dissuade him from finishing the race. 

We eagerly looked on hoping to see Ted cross the line at any second. Seconds turned to minutes with no sign of him. It was agonizing waiting and hoping to see him show up with no idea where he was on course. As more and more minutes ticked by we knew our hopes of a podium that day were now unlikely if not impossible. 

Almost 10 minutes to the second later, he crossed the finish line with multiple car tire plugs barely holding the 14 psi he managed to get into his front tire. He gave it his all trying to fix the holes in his tire to give our team the best chance possible that day. In all honesty, I was surprised he was even able to get it to hold any air let alone make it across the line. This shows the dedication he had to the team in giving us a fighting chance to at least be able to finish our day proud.

As disappointing as the moment was for our team, we didn’t dwell on our misfortune. We didn’t have time to. The transition time to stage 3 was short and we didn’t have a second to waste. If we missed our start time we would be penalized and additional time would have been added to our overall. Or worse, a DQ had we been 30 minutes late. We ended up making our start time by the skin of our teeth. Four seconds to spare exactly. I can’t speak for the other guys but dropping into a race run with your focus on making the start rather than racing the stage was not ideal. An already janky trail made worse by my absent-minded riding. An oddly shaped bowling ball rolling slowly down a rock-strewn gauntlet would’ve had better flow and speed than my personal performance.

None of us had pictured our day going like this. Regardless of the wayward trajectory of our race so far, one thing remained steadfastly clear. We never gave up or got down on ourselves. Even at the end of stage 3 when we finally had a second to breathe and process what had just happened. We cruised to the nearest cafe and loaded up on cannolis and soda, huge smiles on each of our faces. Why? 

Well, life is still great on the Italian Riviera even when ‘Sometimes life is hard’. We had made it into and out of stage 3 as a team with varying degrees of wear to our bikes. Giving ourselves the chance for a strong finish on stage 4 regardless of how the previous stages went. We were racing bikes on rad trails while representing our country in front of some of the most passionate spectators you’ll see trackside anywhere in the world. 

We rolled on towards Stage 4, the showcase stage of the day, without a worry on our shoulders. We had dealt with adversity but never lost our drive. The long transfer to the start line gave us plenty of time to get over the previous blunders and focus on enjoying the experience. Crossing ancient Roman Bridges, a refuel at another epic Italian feed station, and the coastal country sights helped to highlight just what an opportunity we were given. 

Before dropping into the final stage, Ted pinned a Canadian flag onto his back. One last hurrah for our team. A chance to represent our country one last time this day. We may have had no chance of making the podium but we raced as if we did. It was our chance to end on a high note. The fact that we were still able to get to this point despite our misfortunes spoke volumes about our team, but more specifically my teammates. Any one of us could have lost our motivation at multiple points that day. But clearly, that wasn’t something any of us were willing to let happen.

Ted again led the crew adorned with the Canadian flag to the delight of the spectators. Myself and Craig following closely behind, we entered the notorious downhill section of DH Uomini. Its steep, jagged turns awaited us lined by 100’s of boisterous fans.

Riding through the cacophony of horns, sirens, and various noise makers made the final stage every bit as epic as we had imagined it could be. An unreal experience that still gives me goosebumps just thinking about it.

The jolt of adrenaline that surges through you when entering the corridor of spectators urges you to push a little harder, let go of the brakes a bit more, and worry less about making a mistake. A crescendo of sorts resulted in a flow state and preparation meeting opportunity. The previous stages misadventures forgotten and focused solely on redemption. It’s difficult to justifiably describe the feeling of riding at your full potential in front of so many eager fans. To be a part of the spectacle that is racing DH Uomini above the sparkling Mediterranean Sea was something spectacular. But what truly set it apart was being able to share this moment at the finish line with two incredible teammates. I’ll never forget the high fives and stoke shared at the bottom of our final stage. Just pure exhilaration.

The ride back from Stage 4 to the ceremonial finish in the Plaza of Finale Ligure was no less memorable than our race run down DH Uomini. As we pedalled the 4km route along the seaside road in our Team Canada Jerseys and Ted’s flag still proudly adorned on his back we were met with many rousing cheers from passersby. Random people greeted us with chants of ‘Go Canada’. Two people on a Vespa even pulled over out of traffic to offer their support and a ‘Go Canada Go’ with arms pumping away. 

Between the spectacle that was DH Men, the pedal back along the sea with the supportive Italian people, and getting to share all of this as a team with Craig and Ted, it seemed ridiculous that only 4 weeks ago I had considered not doing this. Passing on the opportunity to be a part of a team representing Canada in a sport that is my passion seemed rather…well…stupid. Even if I thought I could have qualified again the following year.

One year on from this incredible experience, denying that chance would absolutely have been the wrong decision. For better or worse, the EWS went through major changes shortly after this race. Some would say for the worse. They’ve done away with the Trophy Of Nations and the masters category has been dropped altogether. Meaning I would have passed on the only opportunity to represent my country as part of a team in Enduro. 

It’s disheartening as it was a spectacular send-off to the race season. But thankfully, I did not miss my opportunity. I now have incredible memories burned so indelibly into my mind that I’ll carry them with me for a lifetime. Sharing the highs and lows of that race week with two great teammates was an experience that money can’t buy. It was an opportunity presented and achieved by pursuing a passion and saying yes when it really mattered. I learned so much that week and came out of it for the better. But most importantly I got to become good friends with great people and was reminded just how expensive a missed opportunity truly can be.