Day 12

Stu arrived today, and let's just stay the ship is being run a little more tightly now (probably for the best, our joke of a kitchenette was getting pretty cluttered and gross). Another Costco trip was in order,  especially since the popularity of the ever-present rice and oats has seen a downturn lately, and Stu was fully on board with the concept of shopping cart racing. Who knew you could four wheel drift those things?

We also spent some more time exploring downtown Madison today. Expectations were very low after the, to put it frankly, awful location choice of Augusta, Georgia for nationals last year: it was an oversized strip mall with densely forested rolling hills and enough suffocating humidity to last a lifetime. In comparison, Madison is a thriving college town set between two stunning lakes. The country side is as diverse as it is beautiful, with rolling hills, good-sized climbs, and quaint farms. Solid choice, USA cycling. 

Tomorrow we head out for our (second) tour of the Trek factory after our daily televised bike racing lesson (the Tour de France), and like every day so far, we're bound to have some fun.

Day 11

We have begun to get into a bit of a rhythm here in Madison: eat, ride, eat, relax, eat, sleep. Wash once and repeat. As we prepared for our daily reconnaissance mission, Sam, using his excellent forethought, noticed twenty minutes before the scheduled leaving time that all his kits were dirty. We don't have a washing machine, but we do have a sink and a hairdryer. The bibs were a little damp, and probably not that clean, but they did the job.

At least Sam checks his equipment before the ride; Matt discovered at the top of Blue Mound state park, the location of the nationals road race, that his rear brake cable was snapped. Not only is there no stopping power, the caliper clamps down on the wheel making riding near impossible. Luckily, Steve, who has been incredibly generous throughout this whole trip, continued the trend and took Matt to a bike shop while the rest of us did reconnaissance on the course.

Stu arrives tomorrow, Bryan races on Wednesday, and the rest of the team gets into action on Thursday. Nationals is almost here. We're ready.

(the laundry was just so warm!)

Day 10

One of the few perks of being in a hotel room is the complimentary breakfast. Though the house in Hood River was spacious and comfortable, the choices of oats or oats for our hungry stomachs got a little old. Free breakfast also provides us an opportunity to poach food and other meal related items for later in the day; bagels are perfect for post ride recovery and the silverware is always useful for in-room snacks.

Unfortunately, the hotel also provided us with one unforeseen complication. We had a room change scheduled for today: from a double to a suite. Unfortunately, we overlooked that checkout is at nine and check-in is at one. Nine bikes, six guys, and a whole bunch of bags looked pretty silly crammed into one room.

Our ride today was fairly typical, if your usual ride involves finding an iPad. Riding back into town after an hour in the windswept plains of Wisconsin, Trevor noticed a lone box on the shoulder of the road, and the rest is history. The woman who owns (or used to) this fine Apple device seemed to have foreshadowed its loss: the picture on the screen, shown below, showed her obvious displeasure. After a quick team vote, it was deemed hopeless to try and return the iPad. It should prove valuable for entertainment on the long drive back to Oregon and then California.

Though we would love to eat at restaurants every meal (the team particularly favors Chipotle and Whole Foods), the bills add up very quickly. Stu provided us with a Costco card so we could shop at the uniquely American wholesale store, and we stocked up on all the foods teenage kids love (namely: quinoa, almond butter, plain Greek yogurt, and gluten-free pasta). I tried my best to look like Stu at checkout (luckily, Costco cards don't give an indication of height), but I couldn't quite pull off the beard and we were let through by the clerk with a warning.

A trip to a grocery store wouldn't be complete without some good, old-fashioned, shopping cart racing. One in the cart and one on their feet; around the Maserati, through the traffic islands, and back to the van. First one there wins. You would never have guessed, but Costco carts drift pretty well. Don't worry, there were no concussions.

Day 9

The blog may have begun to take on a grumpier tone the last few days, and that's not just because of the countless hours spent in the van (though it definitely is a contributing factor). The long, intense stages, little rest, and cold rain of Mt. Hood left Bryan and me down with colds. Mine in particular was accompanied by a killer sore throat, so I decided that a trip to the doctor was a worthy endeavor. Stu would never forgive me if I infected the whole team with Strep throat. Luckily, the tests came back negative and I should be ready to roll by nationals.

The distractions of the morning meant we left for our preview of the TT course at two, and as those familiar with the midwest will know, afternoon is thunderstorm time. We had just finished unloading the bikes when the daily downpour began. We rushed to the nearest shelter which, coincidentally, happened to be the world headquarters of Trek. The kind employee who let us in from the torrential rain also offered us a tour, which we gladly accepted. As cheesy as it might sound, there is something intangibly attractive about products made in the US; we learned today that Trek produces 50,000 frames per year in their Waterloo factory, including some of the bikes the team is racing on this year.

One of the golden rules of bro camp states that "thou must place oneself in a large body of natural water every day". Somehow, we managed to weasel our way out of jumping in the frigid Columbia River, but after a straight week without a swimming adventure, today's sojourn into a lake near Madison was long overdue. Even the choppy surf, brown water and large quantities of trash couldn't stop the majority of the Bear team (Sam was the only one to opt out), and the cool waves were a welcome relief after a hot and muggy ride.

Bryan has become the photography apprentice for the trip. He skipped the ride today because of illness and the credit for the great cycling photo goes all to him.

Day 8

What does a cyclist dream about? Well, if you happen to be a cyclist named Bryan Duke, you have nightmares about races. In last night's edition, Bryan was given an opportunity to compete against and impress the whole Bontrager Cycling squad. Unfortunately, he was late to the race, forgot his jersey (Trevor's xs served as a substitute, but I hear it fit like a belly shirt), and was promptly dropped on the first lap. Well, better luck next time. Here's to hoping this isn't a foreshadowing of the U23 National Road Race (remember that jersey Bryan and everything should be fine!). 

Today saw the final leg of the drive to Madison, and it's safe to say it couldn't come soon enough. After two days of twelve plus hours in the van, patience was running low. Luckily, Stu has good instincts and the Whole Foods just five minutes from our hotel served to fill our stomachs and brighten our moods. 

While driving through the rustic downtown in increasingly desperate attempts to park the van (despite my encouragement, for some reason Bryan didn't want to park in the "loading zone only" space ), we turned down another beautiful street, except this one was completely empty. I waved cordially at the cop parked on the sidewalk, and it was only when we looped around did Trevor point out the large DO NOT ENTER signs. Whoops. We spent some time exploring the Madison Area Technical College, including a Chipotle and an outdoor jazz concert, and then headed back to the hotel to settle in and prepare for a week of reconnaissance and preparation for nationals next week. 

Day 7

The wet and grey weather of yesterday was replaced by blue skies and puffy clouds, but unfortunately the mood in the bromobile didn't improve accordingly. Long stretches of silence were interrupted by corny movies from the $4.99 section of Wal-Mart. Every hour or two we would pile wordlessly out of the van, take a trip to the restroom (and purchase cyclist friendly snacks such as popcorn or licorice if your name is Trevor or Sam), then hop right back in for the next chunk.

Highlights from the beautiful views along the route included a large metal cow, a few thunderstorms, and innumerable miles of straight road. Interestingly, straight roads and flat land don't seem to correlate to smooth pavement: North Dakota incorporated large bumps every hundred feet just to keep us on our toes.

When deciding on a "lunch" spot (lunch took place at 6:00 pm today) a local sushi place seemed attractive, that is until we read the reviews, with one disgruntled customer complaining the food was "raw and undercooked". Go figure. We eventually settled on an imitation Chipotle: it was much like the popular chain, just with smaller portions, higher prices, and guacamole that would make even famished cyclists think twice.

As Steve so eloquently said in response to complaints about the restaurant and the town in general, "Why wouldn't you want to live here?? They have a dollar tree!".

Pictures will be added once the driving schedule isn't nine to one. 1:00 am that is.

Day 6

With four hard stages in the legs, a recovery ride was on tap today. I generously volunteered to navigate, and let's just say I might not be mapping routes for a while. It wasn't that I got us lost; in fact I knew exactly where we were going. It was more the nature of the roads I chose that brought me the ridicule of the group. Whether it was the thirteen percent climb, the equally steep rutted dirt descent, or the rain (as ride leader, it turned out I was responsible for everything, even factors such as weather that are out of mdirection directiony control) I was in serious disfavor by the time we rolled back to the house, already way behind schedule.

Road tripping seems glamorous for the first twenty minutes, with music blasting, bellies full, and spirits high. Soon enough the novelty wore off and the monotony of the scenery and the drive sank in.

We stopped at a Wal-Mart in the forgotten town of Kennewick, Washington, a slice of America most of us are never exposed to. Land is a little bit cheaper in rural interior Washington than coastal California, and this Wal-Mart seemed to stretch endlessly in every direction. When I asked an employee where I could find pillows (the fine specimen I ended up purchasing was of the pink and furry variety) he vaguely pointed to one side of the store and kindly informed me that if I couldn't find them there, they might be in the opposite direction. Thanks for your time, Tony.

Day 5

That's a wrap for the last year of the Mt. Hood cycling classic. As a team, we went in with lofty goals: stage wins, podiums and high general classification positions were all on the list, and as team, we came away with very little. The only top ten to really mention was Trevor's sixth in the Cat 3 TT with Bryan's 19th in the P12 the best GC placing. While there is disappointment, there is also a lot of gained knowledge. This was by far the hardest stage race that any of us has ever done, and we learned what and what not to do when pushing oneself to one's physical and mental limits. If all goes according to plan, nationals should seem like a walk in the park now.

As an avid photographer I was itching to take pictures of the epic course that is stage four of Mt. Hood. I got my opportunity and was rewarded with a beautiful sunset. The photos below are the best ones from that evening. Thanks Trevor for putting up with my need for perfection.

Part of the "long road to nationals" is the physical length of the journey: we're heading a good chunk of the way across the country, and not in the most direct way by any means. Our bodies are screaming rest right now, and they'll get just that with two twelve hour days in the bromobile (read: team van) on tap.

Sadly, we have already said adieu to on-the-road director, relationship advice giver, and chief smack talker Rob Evans, as he claims he has something called a job to go back to on Monday. All I've been able to glean about this mysterious work is that it seems to involve a lot of time spent sneaking onto Facebook and Instagram. Doesn't really seem too bad to me.

Day 4

Mt. Hood cycling classic is by far the toughest stage race on our calendar. Four stages are crammed into three days, and the courses for each are brutally hard. We embark on the criterium this evening with an 86 mile road race and an 18 mile hilly time trial fresh in the legs.

Just to ensure we wouldn't take the racing too seriously, Rob forgot his shoes before the TT and proceeded to drag race back to the house, arriving two minutes before his start in what he called "perfect timing". He mentors through his actions more than his words, showing us exactly what we shouldn't do. Good job Rob.

 Photos will resume tomorrow.

Day 3

Today we started racing. The first day of a stage race is always a little bit of a shock to the system. But when the supposedly neutral roll-out turns into a full gas, single file suffer-fest your legs really don't want to get moving. Needless to say we're a little bit tired now.

The afternoon showed me a quieter side of bro camp. The wind died down, the clouds opened up, and we were treated to a beautiful few hours. The bikes were prepped for tomorrow, the bodies were refueled and the minds were rested.

Our house is located in a very rural area: every day, on the way out of the narrow dirt road with low hanging trees (it turns into a bit of a wack-a-thon with the bikes on the roof) we pick ripe cherries to snack on. A bit farther along alpacas roam near the road. Rob figured that we could eat the cherries, but it would be a little sketch to go for the alpacas. Luckily, he found some alpaca meat for dinner at the grocery store (he claimed it  hasa higher protein content than steak; I think he really just wanted to satisfy his hunter-gatherer instinct).

Photo from the race. Credit to Steve Ellsworth.

Day 2

Stu, using skills only Stu has, managed to procure us a mansion for our stay in Oregon, complete with trampoline, telescope, stunning views, more bedrooms than we could ever want, and a keg (don't worry, it'll only be used by those over 21). After a twelve hour slog up from the bay, we arrived in a torrential downpour with only an afterthought of light left on the horizon. The last real meal was a distant eight hours in the rearview mirror and the whole crew was ready for bed. Unfortunately, it turned out that finding a key under a loose paving stone was easier said than done; a big house equates to lots of stones. A few hastily prepared almond butter sandwiches and a handful of the ever present popchips later, we were finally ready to sleep.

Lounging on the patio with a cool wind blowing, expansive views of the Columbia River, and music playing softly in the background Stu proclaimed today that "it was starting to feel like bro camp". The main condoned activity for the day was a spin along the TT course, but as Stu would soon find out , bro camp would have to wait a few hours to be officially coronated on a muddy gravel road deep in the misty mountains surrounding Mt. Hood. The five "bears" as we shall call them (Tim, Bryan, Sam, Matt and Trevor) were sent in the rental Dodge to recon the most epic course in US domestic racing. Words cannot properly describe how awesome the roads, climbs, and views are, so I leave you with this Velonews gallery from 2011 (unfortunately there's not as much snow this year) to contemplate.

The high profile logging scene in the Oregon hills is the reason the roads for stage four exist. However, as Bryan discovered, not all the roads used by the loggers are paved. We took a thirty minute detour from recon, and I'm glad to say the mysterious ticking noise that resulted was only a very pesky stick.

Racing starts tomorrow. Morale is high. Bring it on.

(audio is removed because of teenage language)