5.31
Monday

I slept almost all day. Last night, after the race, I ate with the TREK team then came back to Houffalize to poach the wireless internet at one of the hotels in town. The Luna team was celebrating Shonny’s birthday with Todd & his wife Meg. I was happy to be asked to join in. A few beers later and I wasn’t feeling so hot. The beer over here is strong and my stomach was nooot used to it. Today I felt terrible and could barely get myself out of bed. Once I did I followed the 2 mechanics, Zac and Ben to Bastonge to do some shopping. I ate some pasteries and drove back. We had dinner with the guys driving the Rock Shox rig up to Scotland. I left with Bishop to film and drove to Houff. I got some nice country shots. Now it’s time to upload this then head back to get some sleep.

I am tired still. Dehydrated for sure and I really miss home. This project is wearing me down. But I still believe in it. I just have to get what’s missing. And I don’t have much time left. I’m really glad Ken is around to help at the next race.

5.30

RaceDay
Houffalize, World Cup #2

I woke up early to beat the traffic. It was one of those deals where you jump out of bed thinking you’re already late. Glad I wasn’t. Got to the media tent and tried to hook up my laptop. Did not work so well. For some unknown reason my computer would not recognize the internet line. I tried 3 terminals and nada. Talk about frustrating. I still had to book a flight to Scotland and the longer it took me the more expensive it would get. But I had to press on, it was race day and things were happening fast.

I ran over my shooting course. It would entail running all over town and up some pretty steep hills, over a clear-cut hillside and through a stream. Kind of like my own race, just not on a bike. The women got off at 11am. I got plenty of shots tho the dust was a major concern. I put the rain cover I bought for the camera on but it would heat up inside and start to fog things up. After making it to most of the good spots on the course, the women finished - Sue 15th (I think) just ahead of Shonny and just behind Mary. Allison stepped up and took 2nd. Sue was really unhappy with her results since Shonny started a ways back from her. She was also not happy to have a camera in her face after it all. I did my best to give her space. Then the men got started. Jeremiah was upbeat and eager. The race was amazingly harsh. The Europeans are intense to say the least. Elbows flying, handlebars hooking up and crashes all over. Blood, dust and sweat. The crowds were like nothing I’ve ever seen. Along one climb on a steep, rutted, rooty section of the course the crowds were 4 people deep the entire way up. I got behind Bishop and ran the whole climb with the camera just over his shoulder. I hope it gives the viewer a glimpse of the intensity I’m talking about. It was insane. The energy levels were through the roof.

Bishop got pulled, meaning if you are about to get lapped by the leaders - you get pulled out of the race. To his credit, he was riding really strong but had some problems with his shifting and suffered 2 flats. You simply cannot get back to the place you were once you have problems like that. He remains positive tho.

I’m still missing the intimate views of who these people are tho. I will try these next couple days, before leaving for Scotland. Oh, and I went back to the media tent at the end of the day and tried one last time - internet came through fine. I just don’t understand stuff like that.

5.29
Saturday

I checked out of my room in Bastonge and made my way to Houffalize.
I ran the dusty, technical course and got tons of shots around the town. Setting up, vendor tents, etc. Interviews with Todd in front of the GT tent, JHK on a little bridge overlooking the stream that flows behind the church, Filip who, for being the world champion, is always gracious, open and gives me all the time I could ask for. Even his camera-shy brother, David, eventually let me film him talking about Filip’s bike that he custom painted. Right next door to Filip’s trailer was Poala Pezzo’s RV and trailer. For those who don’t know, there has twice been mountain biking in the Olympics and twice Poala has won the gold. She has Mike Jordon-like status in Europe and a flair indicative of an italian diva. Her english is almost as bad as my Italian but I approached her anyway. After babbling on about the movie and how great it’s going to be her mechanic stepped up and started to translate for me. She said it was a good time so I set up the camera and started my interview. It was tough since I had to act interested in all her answers even tho I knew not a word she was saying. I also couldn’t play off her answers and lead them into other questions. I hope I can find a good interpreter.

Once I got back to the TREK ranch, which is 10k out of Houffalize in the rolling cow pastures I got my things settled in to my closet. I’m just happy there’s a bunk bed since there simply would not be enough room for a bed and my bags. I can stretch my arms and touch the walls on both sides. Since we’re right beside a pasture there’s lots of fly’s everywhere. The bathroom has a tub with hose to a showerhead. No curtain. Man, when will Europeans get clued into shower curtains???

That night I finally got to show Sue and Jeremiah the trailer and they seem stoked. I hope they realize a little more clearly what Ken and I are trying to do. It’s not easy getting them to believe in the project. Much like the sponsors we keep trying to get funding from. BTW- still no word and Kenny sent out over 40 pitch packages the other day. Someone has to be interested. I hope.

Tried again to get to sleep early. But remember what I said about the day before a big race?

5.28
Friday

Left my room in Bastonge to head to Houffaize and find the race. It’s a small town you would never know existed - it sits in a little valley amidst the rolling hills of the Belgium countryside.
I needed to hook up with the TREK crew since I still have not got the footage I need of who the people this story is about - really are. I have plenty of action shots but nothing much more. Plus I only had my room for one more night and then it would be sleeping in the rental car if TREK didn’t have space for me. Luckily they did. I caught up with Tyler in the media tent and he gave me directions to their 3 apartments. Most of the competitors were staying right in Houff but it wasn’t as easy to do training rides. I found Sue and Jeremiah after they pre-rode the course. Both seemed glad to have the sunny skies but it meant the race would be very dusty and hard to see and breathe. I got some interviews done, drove Jeremiah to his apt then stopped on the way back to Bastogne and had dinner. I had a tough time with the menu but ended up with a great steak dish. I’m feeling quiet the carnivore over here but I guess it’s how much of the country eats.

I tried to get to sleep early but ended up watching clips of the footage I’ve shot over and over. Thinking about the film. And what it was missing. What I’ve been missing. It is starting to keep me up at night.

Well, I could not let Jason have all the fun, so with Pam and kids in tow, we made the trek from VA to London. Everything went as well as we could hope for. Virgin Atlantic rocks.

Kids and parents arrived tired to a great hotel in London. We will stay here for a few days before meeting up with Jason and the rest of the “players” in Fort William.

Before leaving I got a bunch of sponsorship packets out. They really look great! I have to be hopeful that something works out. It is truly amazing that Jason and I are going to pull this off! The footage we are capturing is truly amazing. I can’t wait to show the world what we have.

We are looking to premiere the movie at Interbike this October. Mark your calendars.

Got to run.

Ken

5.27
Thursday
Woke up, packed and got ready to leave. Did a still shoot with JHK for RLX and took off down the street for my bus to Madrid. Feeling a bit more savvy about the buses, I had the right change and approached with my gameface on. It worked. No hassle. Once back in Madrid I took a cab to the airport. Took a jet to Brussels, got out and things went South. I tried a phone. Didn’t seem to want to work. Tried another one, dropped in about 3€ in change, got through to Ken (to get help with renting a car) and the connection was terrible. Hung up and tried a 3rd phone then a 4th. Same deal. I figured I didn’t need any help and headed to the rental desk. Best deal I got was 80€ per day. Not so great. I got out a map and figured if I could make it to Liege I could certainly get a rental car cheaper and continue on to Houffaleze from there. Probably would have worked well had I not got on the wrong train. Headed to - well, I broke down and asked the 3rd grade school teacher who was busy rangling unruly 3rd graders. Once they (teacher and kids) heard me speak english, they could not ask enough questions. Most of them, “Do you speak english?!?” Took me a minute to figure out that’s all the kids knew. Silly me kept answering, “Yes, i do!” all happy that I think I’m surrounded by english-speaking people. Not. I got clued into being on the train headed to Luxemburg. Fine. It was a nice ride. I hopped off in Libramont. Ah, a payphone! Funny, after dropping about 3€ I got through to Ken but the connection was terrible. Plus there was a mad delay so as soon as I’d ask a question, hear nothing and start talking again, Ken would answer. Waste of time. I hung up. How can an entire country have phones that suck? Can’t be. I headed across the street to a bar. All bars have phones that work. There was a motely crew smoking at the far end and the bartender drew and extra long drag off his cigarette before asking me something in a language I’ve never heard. I nodded, smiled and asked for a “Telephono, por favor”. Well dummy, you’re not in Spain anymore. The guys at the bar glared at me. I could feel years of my life vaporzing as my lungs did their best to find oxygen amidst the smoke. The bartender shoved a small, old, beat-up contraption of a phone in front of me. He mumbled something, then placed a stack of odd coins there. I thanked him, gagged on the smoke and picked up the phone. I put an odd coin from the stack in the slot and the bartender yelled at me, swiped the phone out of my hands and hung it up. Hmmm. Seems I offended him somehow. I’m getting nervous now. I look at him, he mumbles the exact mumble he mumbled a minute ago. I give him the same dumb smile and start again. And whoosh - there goes the phone out of my hands again. It’s times like this you just want to crying. That seemed like it would only serve to get my @ss kicked so I held back the tears. I had my little number cheat-sheet on the bar so he points at that. Oh, I got it. I’m supposed to DIAL first, then put the odd coin in the phone. Ok. That was not such a victory but a step in the right direction. Well I got to the bottom of his little stack of coins before I got a call to go through (all phones here must simply not work) so instead of him and all bar patrons seeing that I cannot operate a phone successfully anywhere in Belgium, I put the handset to my head and started talking. “Dude! Whazzzup? Me? I’m kickin’ it here in Belgium. Yea, it’s soooo cool! Ok, I really have to go now, I feel some lung cancer coming on. Keep it real. Peace-out.” I nodded to the crew upon leaving. Feeling like a dork.

I got on a bus in front of the bar that was headed to Bastogne. I hoped the phones would work better there. I arrived to a beautiful little town on top of a hill in the countryside as the sun went down. My memory isn’t too keen but I knew the name sounded familiar. Ah, Battle of the Bulge. Here I was, finally in a place where Americans were welcomed. At least they were 50 years ago. No triumphant march down mainstreet, just a down-trodden American on his last nerve dying for a phone that worked. I felt like Neo in The Matrix trying to get a call out of this Twilight Zone. I also needed some food and a beer. Wine. Or anything that would take the pain of lugging my luggage over half of Europe go away. Found a hotel, checked in. Found a restaurant. Ate. Drank a small bottle of decent red. Went back to my room. I noticed a phone on the table there. I dialed my calling card number and it went through. Kenny answered - VICTORY!!! I talked to him for 15 minutes of blissful clarity w/o delays or bartenders mumbling at me. Then there was a knock on the door. Odd. No one know’s I’m here. Who could it be? I open the door to find some lady going off in French about needing to use the phone. She had one in her hand that she kept waving at me. Cie vu ple. Cie vu ple. Telephoné. Like it’s MY fault the cheesy hotel I’m in didn’t think to install more than ONE DAMN PHONE LINE!?! I tell her to “Back off, I’ll be done in a minute! Esta Bien? Tre Bien? OK!?” And I close the door abruptly. So I bid Kenny adieu and hung up.

Well, when I went to the restaurant downstairs to make good on my continental breakfast this morning, guess who my waitress was? Yea. Nice.

G’nite.

Ok, a lot has happened in the last couple days. I’ll try to keep this short since I have to get up in a few hours. Hang onto your seats, this ride gets a little crazy.

No internet uploads in Miraflores so here’s what happened after that first day.

5.27
Wednesday
Woke up to more rain & clouds. The locals say it’s really abnormal for this time of year and how I’m missing spectacular views. Damn. Have to return some day. JHK pedaled behind the van up a mountain pass while I filmed out the back and did an interview. After getting some really great shots Dan and I returned to town. I took a nap - my first in years! Their apt was so tranquil it induced sleep. I woke and sorted through photos and hung out with Dan. Dan is one of those guys you can’t help but like. He fully appreciates where he is and who he’s working for and has zero attitude about it. And he’s a bit sarcastic. Jeremy got back and it was time to get ready for the bullfight. Manuel knew how to score some tickets even tho it was sold out - guess it was a really big bullfight and while I didn’t want to see bulls get their asses handed to them, I had just enjoyed steaks the night before so I figured I’d shut up and not be a hypocrit (ok, so I can’t spell to save my life, let it go).

Manuel has great parking Karma and in city as crowed as Madrid - it’s money. We scored tickets from some 70yr old scalper and headed in. It was very “Gladiator-esque” and a bit creepy. Everyone was amped and all decked out. The show got underway and let’s just say many more Americans would be vegetarians if they had bullfighting in the States. First they bring out a sign that tells how much the bull weighs and the name of it’s breeder. Then the bull charges into the ring all fired up and ready to whoop some matador @ss. Problem is, they bring out these guys riding horses that have these wicker-made sheilds down to their horseshoes and blindfolds on - guess that’s the only way to get a horse into a bullfighting ring. The bull goes after the horse full-speed and smashes into it. They guy on the horse stabs the bull in the back with a pole to open a hole in it’s back. This happens 2x and the guys on horses leave. Then 3 of the matadors “helpers” have to get the bull to charge at them so they can jam a pair of decorative spikes into that hole. 3 helpers makes 6 spikes dangling out the back of the bull who’s steam has greatly diminished. Only then does the clown in mirrored tights step up. He taunts the bull, shakes the red curtain a few times, dodges the crazed animal then drives a sword down it’s spine. As the bull slowly makes it’s way over to the wall and drops to it’s knees the matador stands in front of it waving his hands in it’s face. Once it hits the deck another “helper” steps up and finishes the animal off. The matador collects his flowers (I would have thrown my glass of whiskey but it was only half empty) and the crowd goes nuts. Then they hook the bull up to a team of mules and drag it around the ring for it’s due applause. Guess it’s a tradition and culture I’m not used to. Don’t plan on seeing that again.

We headed out for dinner and I ordered a steak.

The circus has left town. Adam and all in the TREK group have moved on to Belgium. I was invited to stay with Jeremy so I left Madrid (and all internet connection) today for the RLX camp in Miraflores, which is about 40k north of Madrid. It was less than easy getting from one train down 4 flights of stairs to another subway train, to a bus whose driver hated me and my bags and almost didn’t let me board (man I wish I packed lighter). This sweet old lady convinced the bus driver to let me on (not sure how since I had enough baggage to take up 2 seats plus my sorry self AND did not have anything smaller than a 20€ - the ride only cost 2€). Then I almost got off the bus twice at the wrong stop but luckily my guardian angel clued me into the fact that my stop was further down the line. I got off the bus, waved to my new grandma and the sky’s opened up. I had no idea where JHK’s place was so I ducked into a small bar and ordered a beer. It came with a plate of cheese, crackers and something I didn’t recognize but scarfed down anyway. I watched the rain come down and smiled. It’s the little accomplishments that make traveling in a place where you don’t know the language an adventure. And beer always makes me happy.

Dan, JHK’s mechanic and friend came by in his rental van and picked me up. We rolled up to their place and man, it was one of the nicest little apartments I’ve ever seen. Certainly European from the outside but all sorts of styled on the inside. Shortly after I arrived we headed out to the grocery store for dinner’s provisions. An hour later we were eating steaks, esparagus (sp?) and potatoes sipping really good wine. Dan and JHK had been clued in by local cycling journalist Manuel Maqueda. He had hooked them with their place, gave them great wine suggestions and mapped out training routes. Local knowledge turned out to be key. We sat in the sky-lit dinning room off from the kitchen and ate like kings. It was another piece of the puzzle that I occasionally filmed and mostly just took in. Eventually we moved to the entertainment room and watched my 2004 adventure film, 4 Seasons. JHK left for bed and Dan and I headed for the payphones. I couldn’t make mine work and Dan finished his calls so we headed for one of the many tiny bars that must be the backbone of the España economy. Dan dared me to eat the anchovie that came with out beer (and complimentary tapas) so I did - kinda regretting that move now…). I’m stoked to hang with Dan and JHK. They’re both at elite levels in this industry but are super kind and very considerate. They have both asked me tons of questions about the film and were really excited about seeing the trailer. Makes the hours of editing worth it.

Now I’m laying in bed wondering what tomorrow will bring.
Guess i should get some sleep…

Today was race day. World cup number one, Madrid.

The night before a big event that you are involved in - it’s no surprise to not sleep much. As was the case with me last night. I woke at 5am grinding my teeth. It wasn’t so much the nerves about the day’s events but something worse. Besides mentally going over the long list of shots I needed to get today: start and finish of both mens and womens races, interviews before and after with the main players, shots around the venue, spectators cheering, my potential vantage points along the course - how I would get from one place to the next and maximize the shots so as not to have the main players wiz by me on a boring section, planning where I’d be at each lap then how I’d get back to the start/finish line in time to film the winners… besides all that, I laid in bed wondering if what I’m doing is worth it. Self doubt is sneaky like that. It waits till your tired and worn down and pretty nervous about something - then it pounces from a dark corner of your conscience. Catch me during the day after I’ve had my share of java and I tend to feel invincible. Not this morning. This morning I had a really hard time finding reason for my being in Spain. It would seem simple to justify this trip but such reasoning lends itself to objective thinking - self doubt doesn’t play by those rules, and it was with me all morning.

I was out on the course running from one place to the next, getting one great shot after another. Doubting all of it. At one point I was running back to catch the riders come through the feed zone on their second to last lap and I stopped running. I slowed down to a brisk walk and that slowed down to a trudge. Why bother? Why keep going? If I don’t get that last shot, no one will know, nor will they care. Hell, the entire project has yet to get off the ground. “There’s no money in off-road cycling anymore. You’re about 8 years too late.” someone had recently told me. We have the trailer done, sent out to all the ‘right’ people and still, no sponsorship. Chances are getting someone to sponsor the movie is a pipe dream. And this dream has become too expensive to be just that.

Frustration forced my pace back to a trot and I came across Mike Broderick who is Mary McConnelough’s mechanic, team manager, driver, soigneur and boyfriend. He was cheering her as she rode by. I got the shot. Then Mike - whom I had met only hours before - said something that I won’t forget. He said, “You know, Jason, I’ve seen you out here running around getting footage and I love the energy you have for this. Every other camera man sits and lets everything come to him but man, you’re all over the place! I’m sure the footage is going to be great just because of the amount of energy you’re putting into this. You’re really passionate about it, that’s cool.” He rode down the hill to get ready for his race - he is a pro as well, competing on the World Cup. Pretty amazing.

As with any flattering compliment I had tried to say something modest. But “Thank You” would have been most appropriate. What he said, I needed to hear. At a time when I needed to hear it. Not much, just affirmation that I was going to do something great with my efforts. And as I ran to the next place along the course it started to sink in. And I realized, it isn’t the big corporate sponsor or their financial backing and it isn’t having Sue or Jeremiah make the Olympic team that will make this film spectacular. It’s the people it’s about. And the people in this sport. People like Mike who aren’t in it for the money, but for the love and passion they have for the sport. For taking a different line through life. And for chasing a dream.

I realized this is my contribution. Because while I don’t race anymore, I love the sport. And I love the people involved in the sport. Their lives are passionate, dramatic, insanely dedicated and tough. And that is what this film is about. Their story needs to be told. And I’m proud to be the one to tell it.

Next stop, Belgium.
Photo is Mike, getting Mary’s SEVEN ready for the race.

Today the prince of Spain got married 3 blocks from our hotel. It was mayhem. Not becuase of the thousands of people who came to see the newlyweds drive around town. Not becuase of the thousands of spectators here for the World Cup Mt. Bike race that goes off tomorrow. And not becuase this city isn’t crazy enough - the worst part about all of it was the torrential downpour we all stood in to catch a glimpse of the happy couple driving by. It was insane. Not sure who faired worse - me or Adam who was pre-riding the course in the same rain. Either way, I got some great footage and Adam got assimilated to the course. Later in the day I did a poignent interview with him and learned his story. It’s almost tear-jerking to hear. In a nutshell, he raced all last season, kicking ass onthe UC-23 (23 and under racers) tour only to get to the World Championships feeling ready to take the title only to take a warmup lap then be told by the UCI (Union Cyclist International - the governing body of cycling) that he could not race because he missed a drug test early in the season - which he simply had not been informed of or knew about. Adding insult to injury was the USA Cycling organization that had fostered Adam’s cycling growth - telling him not, “Sorry, we didn’t tell you about that little detail” but instead telling him, “You should have known about that test - you need to pay for the 2 nights in the hotel we booked you in and leave.”

Wow. Welcome to professional bike racing.

Photo shot this evening of next door to the Palace - check the photos for more shots. Luckily for all, the rain went away and the afternoon was sunny.