Words by: Steve Storey
“The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft a-gley.”
Umm, what?
I was having a lot of difficulty trying to neatly tie my year on bikes together with a theme. My brain goes off on a tangent, incessantly repeating something about ‘best laid plans of mice and men going awry.’ Probably due to my 2024 plans originally being 2020 plans. Then those same 2024 plans going much more differently than I envisioned. A combination of writer's block and procrastination led me to weird corners of the internet and eventually stumbling onto the 18th-century origins of the aforementioned adage. Unless you’ve spent time in 1785 Scotland, good luck understanding any of the poem it originates from. It’s a confusing blur of words, kind of similar to 2020. So it’s fitting that 2020 plans that had already ‘gang a-gley’, would continue to go awry as 2024 plans.
Early in 2020, I had a perfect season of riding and racing planned. Race the Manizales EWS and gain qualification points to race the big show in Whistler. Then maybe a full season of racing around the world the following year. Shred and build with friends all summer, race Crankworx and get involved in Deep Summer or Dirt Diaries. End off the year with a trip to Kyrgyzstan and ride epic mountains and ridges. Instead, it was travel bans, race cancellations, and a lacerated kidney and liver for me.
Leave it up to the UCI to not open registration for Italy until a week before I left Canada. Then finding out on your way to Italy that you were erroneously entered in the E-bike race while not even owning an e-bike. I was also informed that the race was sold out. All of a sudden, those best-laid plans were going up in flames. To add fuel to that fire, the Poland round hadn’t opened up either.
Italy
But it didn’t matter. My girlfriend and one of my best friends were along for the trip. We were going to have the greatest time regardless. Which we did by riding stupid long days in the Ligurian Alps on incredible trails. By shuttling bike park tracks above the Ligurian Sea. By celebrating the end of every ride with the world’s best pizza and most refreshing of Italian lagers in 1000-year-old villages. It was pure magic.
In regards to the race, I was eventually able to talk my way back into the EDR in Finale Ligure thanks to some screenshot proofs of my registration in the proper category. I ended the day with a respectable 9th place finish overall. Although it was the proverbial cherry on top, it didn’t end up being my favourite part of Italy. Now don’t get me wrong, it was an epic day of racing on some fantastic trails. It was just hard to beat the adventure shredding we’d been experiencing all week in new-to-me locations. As great as Finale Ligure is, there is just so much more to be discovered in the Ligurian Alps.
Slovenia & Austria
With Italy in the rearview and a keen wariness of things going awry, I abandoned traveling halfway across Europe for a race I may not even be able to register for. The Poland round of the EDR had not yet opened with only a week to go until race day. Instead, we hastily checked out other options in nearby regions and realized we were within a reasonable drive to Slovenia and Austria. By morning, we had transportation booked and headed east without anything more than a destination and a dream of what was possible to come.
Twelve hours later, we were flanked on all sides by some of the biggest and most stunning mountains I’ve personally seen in Europe. Over the next week, I rode steeps in the stunning Julian Alps, loamy single track in Jamnica, and the infamous Black Hole Trail in an abandoned Mezica mine. I free-rode among the towering peaks of the Vršic pass and hopped across the border to sample the EWS race tracks of Petzen Bike Park, home to the world’s longest flow trail. A plan B in name only, what a week!
Our supposed plan B made me forget all about the UCI shit show that had gone down. It felt as if this was the European road trip that should have happened all along. Feeling accomplished and having a bit of the adventure itch scratched, I headed home to a mountain bike season in full swing. I was excited to get back home for more racing, park laps, alpine epics, and all that summer has to offer. Plus some not-so-summery moments…
Racing- Vedder
The first race weekend back home was the Canadian Enduro League race at Vedder. A decidedly winter-like affair featuring a full-on atmospheric river with near 0 temps up high. Stage 5’s Black Hawk Down, which is ½ clay, might be the wildest race stage I’ve ever been a part of. If you were there, you either loved it or hated it. Me? Top 3 favourite stages of all time for sure. Hub deep ruts and mud, almost zero control for the majority of it, technical, steep, and fast. What wasn’t there to love about it? Heck, even if it wasn’t a race run, it was an all-time lap! Normally I dream about the dusty, long, hot days of summer, but sometimes you find perfect in the imperfect. I was stoked to end the day in 2nd, just 1 second off the win. But the best part for me was winning the wild and unruly stage 5 by 7 seconds even with a massive OTB.
Phat Wednesday’s & Crankworx Whistler
The TL;DR version of events, well half way through the 4th stage of the enduro I had a massive crash. I still don’t know how or why it happened. But I went instantaneously from a great run to having my face smashed into rocks. Like a zombie, I stood up and finished the stage. I could barely ride straight. My bars were twisted, ears were ringing, and my broken helmet visor was pushed down into my face. Once I crossed the finish line, I was able to assess myself a bit more. My jaw was sprained, my face was cut up, and my larynx was messed up from impact by the chin bar of the helmet. I’m not sure how any of that was even possible with a full face helmet, but it was one hell of a hit. Talk about things not going to plan!
Not so wisely, I decided to continue on with the race. A bit of adrenaline and a dose of good old stubbornness go a long way in making dumb decisions. I was able to get down stage 5 in one piece and managed to hold onto 2nd place for the day. So there was a small reward for pushing on through the pain.
With Crankworx said and done, recovery began. I was unable to speak for a couple of weeks due to the larynx injury. Concussion symptoms began a few days afterward, and eating with a sprained jaw was a challenge. I had about 6 weeks to heal up before heading out on a dream trip to Kyrgyzstan. This trip had already been cancelled once previously in an eerily similar manner. I wasn’t going to let that happen again.
The last half of my summer was spent following a strict protocol from my physiotherapist. Eye and focusing exercises, rest, and a progressive return to activity. At times it was frustrating to limit myself when I had good days. But there were also bad days when concussion symptoms would come storming back for seemingly no reason at all. I stuck to the plan. Slowly but surely, I started to feel like myself again. Finally a plan not gone awry.
Kyrgyzstan
With everything more or less healed, Kyrgyzstan was a go. I had been dreaming of traveling here for the last 5 years. 4 weeks of road tripping and mountain biking across some of Central Asia’s most stunning terrain. Even with 5 years of anticipation heading into this trip, nothing prepared me for how surreal it was. The mountains, their nomadic culture, and the people were nothing short of extraordinary. Exploring the endless ridges and passes of the many different mountain ranges by bike was a dream come true. While the mountain biking infrastructure in the country is nearly non-existent, the freeriding potential is limitless. It was an unforgettable experience. I stood atop many different peaks and ridgelines, wondering how I was so lucky to end up here. It’s almost like a series of convoluted mishappenings were exactly what you needed to put you in the right place at the right time. So maybe all those best-laid schemes weren’t really ‘gang aft a-gley.’
I cannot wait to experience all the unplanned and awry things that the 2025 season brings. See ya on the trails!
