Entering into Beaupré, driving up the long hill, the final stretch of the drive, I am always delighted to crest the top and have the behemoth that is Mont Sainte Anne greet me as a looming wonder of legend and prestige. The longest standing venue on the World Cup circuit, one would be mistaken to think that this view has become just another standard in the array of “views from work”. Rather, as the final stop on the tour since the return of racing post-pandemic, MSA has reinvented itself once again as a symbol of The Final Boss, as the kids would say; The culmination of a hard-fought season culminates at a rider-favorite, photographer’s delight, and a truly daunting sight for fans alike. As if trying to out-do itself in 2023, upon our arrival, the sleeping giant of Quebec said, “Salute!” by putting on a mesmerizing display of autumnal perfection, the contours draped in the fiery celebration of the changing of the seasons and closing out of yet another year of racing.

Expectations for attending the venue are still spoken about with quiet reverence. The stoke is always high. History has been made at the edge of the St. Lawrence river year after year, in both XC and DH. In the past I’ve spoken about the magic that proliferates the hillside, and I really can’t stop. Winning at MSA is a true testament to a rider’s abilities because it takes raw speed, endurance, tenacity, and outright skill to stand on the top step. Past winners have dealt with parched earth, closer to racing Dakar than DH, they’ve squinted through blinding rain that would force boats to anchor, and survived mud which would make for better grease than Phil’s. Dynamic and unapologetic, the Canadian venue offers racers one choice each year, and it’s always the same: if you want to win, give’r. 

By now, the Misspent Summer’s Yearbook has been published and released for purchase, and I once again had the distinct privilege of writing the foreward for MSA within those hallowed pages. I covered the race in’s and out’s there, and traditionally, I’ve also posted here on The Start Gate post-race. ‘23 was a little different knowing that I had my charge ahead of the event, so I made sure to focus on my contribution to the compendium first and foremost. After doing so though, I didn’t write again until now, four months later. The energy and excitement of the week is unrivaled, but also exhausting. It’s also a rather melancholy moment, which is odd, because to me, it’s one of the highlights of the year. But being that it is just such a powerful couple of days, it only makes sense that the comedown is as heavy; the intensity level of the World Cup life is unmatched, filling such shoes isn’t really possible.

My first time at Mont Saint Anne was 2010, for World Champs. I watched Tracy Mosely achieve a life-long goal of winning The Rainbows and I witnessed classic Sam Hill once again do the impossible of returning to racing, “off the couch” after a big injury and win his third set of stripes. Though the story of that weekend is one of a personal paradigm shift, it is also one for another day. Because the real story is, once I started shooting World Cups as an occupation in 2015, I have attended MSA every year that it’s held a race since; ‘20 and ‘21 excluded due to “world events” as we all know. For me, this week of racing has become a pilgrimage in a way, journeying north to storied location, where legends have been made and lore grows stronger with each passing year.

The 2023 season once again delivered edge-of-seat racing in both XC and DH. I’ve become quite the fan of XC in the last almost-decade, and truly enjoy the storylines and rivalries that grow out of each season. Though, for the sake of this little tale, I’m sticking to the gravity-side of the sport, as that’s what I know best and deeply involve myself.

The finale to the season was always going to be remarkable.The way the year had unfolded up to the eighth round was nothing short of shouting at the screen during each race and punching the air all morning as rider after rider let loose and let it all hang out. No longer do fans weather the racing until Elite Men drop in, rather, the action starts immediately in the Juniors, and in reality, we are all chomping at the bit waiting for the Elite Women to take to the starting house. The depth of talent and speed covers the entire category, no longer just a select few at the top, so it is any of the women’s race, which makes each run thrilling. In any given year though, there is usually one rider who shines a bit brighter, perhaps finding a winning recipe in the form of set up, mindset, flow, or a combination of it all.

In ‘23, that was Vali Holl. At the start though, we saw Rachel Atherton return to the first round in Switzerland as a mom, take the win with conviction and round off her total wins to 40. It felt like the passing of a torch in a way, as Vali had always wanted the chance to fairly race her personal hero. And with that box ticked, something ignited and we watched the Austrian powerhouse take off. She won five races straight, 2 World Cups, 2 Crankworx, and 1 World Championship. She then took an additional two more WC’s wins to finish the season. She won five out of the eight World Cup races, her worst finishes were (in order) 4th at #1 Lenzerheide, 2nd at #4 Andorra, and 10th at #6 Les Gets. Astounding. Vali had the Overall wrapped up a round early and didn’t rest on her laurels, charging even harder at the final round, clearly feeling motivated by her outstanding season. She was in a league of her own, and thus marked the beginning of what I think is her reign in DH, as it was foretold when she was crushing the Junior ranks.

An equally wild year of racing transpired in the Men’s field. Through the course of the season, there had been seven different winners, five of them first-time winners: Jordan William (#1 Lenzerheide), Andreas Kolb (#2 Leogang, “Home Town Win”), Jackson Goldstone (#3 Val di Sole), Benoit Coulanges (#6 Les Gets, “Home Town Win”), Oisin O’Callaghan (#7 Snowshoe); two of them first-year Elites (Williams, Goldstone). Together, these riders ushered in a new era of the sport where a single rider dominating is unlikely to occur again. It was truly staggering to see this happen, and the back stories of each win are as heart-warming as the next. My personal favorite was watching Ben win, as he was “my racer” during my years on the circuit. I knew he was on the path to greatness, and to see it finally happen at his home venue, crowd surfing his way to the podium as the French pandemonium erupted in celebration was sublime. Allez Benoit!

And so, come race day at the last round of 2023, among the picture-perfect foliage, we all wagered and speculated, would we see a repeat winner? Who had the moxy to join the winners circle in the eleventh hour? All of the hemming and hawing would be for naught though should the impending doom-and-gloom weather the radar showed fast approaching decide to join the party. Of course, as it goes with the World Cups such wishing the clouds away. The rain came and spoiled the fun. A good percentage of the Semi-Finals were an absolute mess, and properly ruined the Women’s Final. The sun didn’t shine through on the day, but the precipitation did abate – a more-fair race was going to be on tap for the Men. No one enjoys the weather deciding the results like it did for the Women, even more so because ‘23 was truly an epoch defining season for both categories. The track was no one’s friend when it all counted, with slick spots lurking, and greasy bits littering the path to success, and for the Men, facing a full-cooked race track, it was going to take every rider’s bag of tricks to stay up right and come across the line ahead in the green. 

Despite the change in conditions, knowing that Jackson had won Semis by 5-seconds, there were still certain predictions of what was to come. Everyone knows that the country men of the Maple Leaf have a knack for producing jaw-dropping displays of finesse and focus on home soil. Stevie Smith famously won his first Elite race at MSA in 2013 at the 4th round on the tour that year; the first of his hat trick of wins, ultimately winning him the Overall. But, it was his MSA race run that created a moment in the sport that lives on with his legacy as one of the greats. Nine years later, Finn Isles did it again, taking his first Elite win in front of the home crowd, joining the rare-air list of riders who have stood on the top step. Again, Mont Sainte Anne isn’t a trope in the sport, it’s a literal juggernaut that only ten different Elite Men and only seven Elite Women have bested in it’s nearly-thirty year stint as a World Cup venue.

As racing got underway, fans and racers alike realized that we had the potential to see another Aaron Gwin-style, win-against-the-odds race run. As the grime dissipated in places and gathered elsewhere, the track started to improve, if only marginally. Spectacular displays of tenacity and skill graced the big screen with the like of Bernard Kerr, Gaeton Vige, and Loic Bruni battling for glory against the clock, playing musical chairs on the hot seat platform. 

The air stirred with the building anticipation of the last racer entering the start gate. A small city’s worth of people were gathering in the finish bowl, eyes glued to the broadcast screen as the timer counted down. Hammering out of the gate, Jackson took to the track and the audience started to ramp up the encouragement. All manner of noise making swelled as the seconds ticked by, and when the first split went green one could feel the vibrations of excitement emanating from the gathered masses. We all watch in awe as Jackson barely touched the ground during his descent of the upper half of the track.

Ethan Craik was sat in the hot seat as the leader of the race, after putting on his own display of bike wizardry, but he, like the rest of us, could only gape as the time disappeared into the leaf-laidened woods with each split going green, and by significant margins to boot.

Thunderous cheering was shaking the air from the last woods to the finish as Jackson sprinted into the last sector, approaching the final split. And it was in this moment, with less than thirty seconds left in his run that something truly bizarre happened: a spectator drunkenly stumbled out onto the landing of the final jump, right where I was crouched against the tape taking aim and composing my shot. I have a photo sequence of what happened next, but only because I managed to pick my camera back up after initially rising to play WWE wrestler.

Thankfully, I was relinquished of having to make the tackle thanks to an intrepid marshal. Realizing I was witnessing something never-before-seen, I blind-fired at the melé unfolding in front of me. Having secured the shot, I then ran over to the two-man scrum, the drunkard being literally rolled like the keg he has seemingly consumed, off the track. I frisbee’d his sombrero into the fencing (I should have kept it), and after running back over to my spot, had to get up a second time to retrieve the errant can of beer still laying on the track, which I hurled into the B-Zone as well. Not five seconds after sitting back down a second time, Jackson, unaware of the mayhem that had just briefly transpired, scrubbed over the step down, I got the shot, he sailed the final gap, landing right where the beer had been, sprinted like a man possessed and did what no one else in the Elite Men had been able to do: took his second win of the 2023 season.

Chaos. Absolute chaos ensued. Security braced the barriers, linked arms at the finish line, and now infamously over-reacted in the riders area. It was honestly an unsettling sight to see and even less ideal once immersed in the hoard of people streaming into the finish corral. The deafening roar that had started when Jackson’s last split went green to the time he crossed the line in first was purely animalistic. The hometown fans really showed up for this one. Hoisted up into hot seat pulpit, the winner of the day, the only repeat winner, and darling of Canadian DH, Jackson stood wide-eyed and bewildered by the moment.

He is already a seasoned rider when it comes to fame and attention, but even this reaction from the crowd and the overwhelming realization of the moment left the charismatic and entertaining Wunderkind from Whistler stunned. Achieving greatness is definitely a sliding scale in terms of the definition, but it is easy to see and say that what was achieved by the Original Strider Hucker on October 7th, 2023 was nothing short of remarkable. I remember seeing Jackson jumping Crabapple at Crankworx in 2017 when he was a tiny 13-year-old; seven years later from that moment, and a full decade after Stevie took his first win, Jackson had become a legend of the sport at 19. 

  • Overall
  • Loic and Loris