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This article is part of the continued coverage of the '06 Top Challenge competition in Montreal, results for Top Challenge and the Sliding coverage. You can now download the Full Top Challenge Race Results. If you haven't already you should check out the Top Challenge Gallery and the Top Challenge Coverage Video - Silverfish owes a great deal to the on site photographers; Daniel Vachon, Howard Siroky, Alexandre Ferland, Martin Duguette ; Brian http://brian.cancerkills.net /.
The sandwich was grey and stringy, it wavered between too warm to be appetizing and just cold enough to be edible. The meat had a glimmering sheen like it had been sprayed with Crisco. I swallowed and the questionable mayo splooged out of the side of my sandwich. Falling on the table the plop was amplified by the running rain on the hurricane windows. The storm was here and I was bound for Montréal. A ticket in my hand Top Challenge was only two countries, three rounds through immigration and six bags of pretzels away. The Bud Light sponsored event was touted to be one of the biggest gravity events of North America. I picked a piece of stringy meat out of my teeth with my ticket before I handed it to the attendant. Watching the rain beat the runway I knew it would be a long journey but I would not want it said that "I was one to never miss an opportunity to miss an opportunity."
Beauty at Night
Montréal glimmered beneath the plane, a flat expanse lined by rivers who shone black as oil among the glimmering lights of the city. A generally flat perception of the land which was pierced by the rise of Mount Royal like a razorback hog hiding on the level land of salt flats. Unmistakable even at night, “that is a hill”.
I stammered and gripped the neck-high desk peering into the soul of the obese man with his Vienna sausage shaped fingers gripping the throat of my fate. My intent threw open doors in this minds eye flailing for common ground. This man would not be bound with logic or emotional appeal so I unleashed with both barrels. Just keep talking I said to myself and the words sprang like quarters from a coin filled sock upside the head. Layer upon layer of papier-mâché words covering my very weak argument, attempting to make a verbal piñata which this man was wailing at with his spiked intent, that is what my very argument was; a balloon, fragile and ill fated to be directed. Yet as the words poured a glimmer, and a twiddle of fingers through a layer of papers, a sigh and release, minutes later a deck underfoot and skate bag on back; entrance into Quebec, a small victory.
The bar was alive, throbbing with people and decks Baraka would be our second home as much as poutine would become our daily porridge. The bar was slender like the emptied aisles of a book store. Laying strangers shoulder to shoulder and friends within arms reach. We met our friends and lead coordinator, those with who we would be bound to for the next days to come. With Guinness on tap and Guru presiding over the night, we wrestled with our fates and were drunks with our decks. We met many and understood little. Travel had bashed out brains and the language barrier kept us bound. Edging along in conversation till either we were lost or our dear discussion mates looked glazy eyed at us as our mouths fell off our faces. The boys dropped b-boy stances as the DJ played on, life was good for a moment and we forgot ourselves to the nectar of the dark night. We arose in morning and I feel we ate, I think we did because I remember being tired that first day. However this isn’t about me this is about Top Challenge.
The arrival of many riders of all types convened at the riders meeting atop The Loft a rooftop bar in the center of Montréal. The riders who were not registered did so and many people who had long since seen each other greeted. Many new acquaintances were made either in line or lounging in the golden sunlight of the fading sun as the sun dipped below the skyline. The riders meeting started in two languages reiterating statements and then concluded.
The Pit Arriving to Top Challenge it was easy to see the immense nature of the event the whole hill segmented by a rail to allow spectators to watch on and hay bails to prevent perilous descents to the foot of the mount. With the morning haze burning off the truck ride was jammed with a assortment of disciplines of all types, Decks, Surfers and Luge rolling to the top for final registration and to receive their numbers at the top of the mount.
The top pit was a preparatory war zone. Everyone who had received their number was taking measures to make way for the day. Securing safety gear and making last minute changes. Many were speaking but the conversations were shorter as the participants were swept up in the desire to make ready for the days events. Some had called for “the wettening” but the clouds seemed high and the day seemed dry. It was only until the next that almost as a tradition the hill of Mount Royal was wet.
The day’s sessions would be split into discipline heats with eliminations and would result in the final battles down the mount the next day. The Bottom At the bottom of the hill awaiting the races I spoke to Motion Longboards in regards to new innovations in their design. Working honey comb material into the new Bigfish it was intensely light and seemed to have a very healthy static flex. There was also very interesting display of their decks through the ages. I would have gotten a better shot of them but they were bolted to the ground. Restless skateboards had a display of their; build on demand system for the internet where users can design their own deck shape and graphic from a program on the web. With a collection of shapes and graphics there were possibilities to keep you busy all day. They also designed the slide deck trophies.
Essence had a beautiful collection of wood decks on display. One was a sick veneer treatment specifically for the Top Challenge event. They had beautiful v-lams in wood, good looking, not too sure on how they ride but not hard on the eye.
The crowd that amassed was a collection of friends and family of riders, die hard industry supporters and a rather healthy group of people just wanting to watch some action. At times people were four or five deep along the barriers with the majority of onlookers toward the final corner and one of the top corners nicknamed crash corner. Almost all of the accidents that really jarred the senses and robbed the hill of riders took place there. So it was with a reliable loyalty to the burliest of bails that held many attendees attention to watching from this vantage point. The DH
The DH riders were the largest contingency with riders from all over the world it was obvious in the start how hot the competition would be. With the hill a veritable nightmare to navigate the racers thoughts had to be on lines. Many races would be perceived to fly past alone only minutes later for the rest of the pack to follow leaving those at the bottom wondering what was happening up at the top.
The decks were all flavors but it was the wheels that were most notable. With pink and green always in abundance it was also easy to see the trend towards smaller more dense wheels with the riders. In this riders opinion I would have wanted big meats to mash the course smooth but to each their own. The bottom corner bails which I witnessed were more often than not the result of drifts, with some riders cutting off their own lines to save another rider from a forced bail. As the days dragged on the racing got tighter and bails got less and less.
The racers results were racked with upset, as many riders took bad hops and had unexpected lines just track out of no where. Many a rider commented on the surprise that manifested itself from one of the many bumps. The second day resulted in some of the most intense and tightly packed passes at the line of both days racing. Some of the final races were with riders passing the line all within arms reach of each other. As if bombing balls out in a figurative manner was not enough the last DH rider to take the hill was wearing his natural leathers. Dirt Surfer
I had never seen dirt surfer riding in action before and I can not say I walked away unimpressed. The amount of sheer will it would take to get me to bomb a hill such as the Mount on one of those boggles my mind. Maybe on a clean road but with the tracking breaking bumps that riddled the hill any amount of airborne bliss usually followed by a dramatic rider pole vault and subsequent monkey fling fest as surfers flew and riders tumbled. I can not imagine subjecting myself to that hill on that device. The clean runs I did see were impressive the speed and sound as the surfers whizzed past reminded me of gravity bikes and I must admit I admire the dedication boardering on obsession of the surfer riders.
Inline
Insaine dudes man, similar to my thoughts on the Dirtsurfer but with much more grace. The skill involved of reaching speeds such as that impress me. I know little to nothing about the mechanics behind throwing oneself down a mount wearing blades.
Even without the knowledge to comprehend what I saw Respect is given. When tucks were tight the riders were within arms reach and the final line often saw many riders pass close. Good racing indeed. Luge
Unarguably this was the fastest riding on the hill and some of the most intense racing because of the nature of the luge discipline. The luge riders were tracking just as tight through the lines often bumping and jiving through the turns. As with the other racers as the days drew on crashes were less and less likely however the racing never cooled off. The technical ability of the luge riders at such speeds was obvious to all of the attendance. With heads whipping hard as the rigs tore past the watching throngs. Wheels skipping and drifting as riders leaned to maintain control of their lines.
Seeing the difference in the rigs at the top of the hill was interesting. Some rigs were road worn and looked to be comprised of foam, steel, duct tape and wheels. While other were well tuned and painted to the tits. Clean racing machines prolly worth more than my car, devices well designed and ready to race. Did the road treat the riders differently based on their rigs or did skill and road worthiness of the riders heart make the difference. Only the race would tell the tale of the right of the rig to ride.
Sliders
The amassed riders punk by nature and prideful by skill rode the hill with the honor of warriors dedicated to display the skills of their tradition. With the sliders and DH riders running the hill on the same day the limitation for riders was one or the other.
More than a few dedicated sliders were lost to the DH discipline but the sliders that chose to display their skills enjoyed the time that they had on the hill. Watching the crowds delight as twenty something sliders hit the corner sideways displaying a myriad of styles from all over North America .
The crowd given a moment to ponder often asked where the sliders were between runs. A crowd favorite indeed, allowing for just as many bails on the gnarly road as landed tricks. Of the many sliders and so many bails not a single major injury among them. A skill based on lateral control of speed manipulated into a style of riding.
Slalom
Pushed to the final hours of the days light the slalom set hit the hill that was prepared for them. Dedication to cone killing by the hyper gear obsessed fanatics of the sport. With their site set the racing commenced and the cone pumping menagerie hit the hills to ride with pride.
Of all the riders to take to the hill it could be said the slalom riders rode with the most accuracy and pride overcoming slight oversights in the scheduling but still filling those around with the stoke of the ride late into the night. The skill displayed was just as apparent and impressive as any other discipline and the riders, took their times and slayed cones with an adept nature truly deserving to those gathered.
The Aftermath
Visiting the pit towards the end of the days it seemed a stopover for a wartorn community. Spent gear laid in piles and crippled riders were relaxing in the shade of a popup tent. Brothers were helping the wounded across the pit and caring for them as they need.
Last minute fixes to equipment and dragging it to the lines in preparation for final runs. The medics on hand helping others who were in need and other riders caring for themselves, many then setting to the lines ready to take another run at the glory of the podium. Injured yet still willing to ride on the riders of all disciplines showing the intent of those so obsessed with their passion of speed and the ride over the edge that they continue on.
The Podium
There were races, people crashed, some did not and then eventually they got to enjoy a fleeting moment on the podium in front of the flash of bulbs and cheering crowds. Standing above and spraying the hard won bud light across the crowd. Smiling to the crowd then hoisting aloft foaming bud light and trophies. The podium is a harsh mistress for once she raises you to glory she does nothing more than set you up for the future target of the raising skills of those that clap for you. To the warriors that amass to reach for the glory of the race, this thought does not come to them in the moments of greatness nor should it for as Seneca said “It is a rough road that leads to the heights of greatness”. Top Challenge ’06 was indeed a rough road.
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