The waiter doesn't speak a word of English. I have to try something else. I'm standing in a crowded restaurant in a town called Das. Andreu Lacondeguy is supposed to live here. Unfortunately, he hasn't given me a street name or a house number despite repeated enquiries by email. "All you have to do is drive to a small town called 'Das'," wrote Andreu, "nothing else." Although "Das" is indeed a small town, I still can't find the house where he lives without a street name. And of course he doesn't answer the phone either - the only thing that helps is asking around. I can't find a soul on the streets. The restaurant is my only hope. The waiter doesn't recognise the name Andreu Lacondeguy. At least the way I pronounce it. Desperate, I try sign language and bad Majorcan Spanish. My flat hand points to the height of my shoulder (Lacondeguy's height). Then I scribble on my arms with an imaginary pen (the tattoos). Finally, I put the flat of my hand to my forehead as if I were giving a bad salute (the cap that Andreu usually wears). Now the waiter raises his bushy eyebrows. "Ah, el loco - bicicleta bien," he says. Then he hastily scribbles a sketch on his order pad and describes the route to me. And indeed, the sketch helps. Simply: "En la calle de la iglesia - izquierda, derecha ... "
Andreu Lacondeguy (pronounced Lakondächi) is one of the most colourful figures in freeride sport. The lively Catalan has the image of a party animal. At the same time, he is more successful than almost anyone else. While others work long and hard on their rock star image, Andreu seems to have been born with it. With his hyperactive manner and euphoric narrative style, he makes everyone else in the room look like they're on valium. But Andreu also causes offence with his loud and provocative manner. Because he says what he thinks and only does what he feels like doing. This doesn't always go down well in the scene and with sponsors. He publicly criticises competition organisers when he doesn't like the courses. Or he doesn't reply to emails from sponsors for weeks on end. Others would quickly manoeuvre themselves into the sidelines with this attitude - but not Andreu. He already enjoys a reputation during his lifetime, which he has earned with unique video segments, daring stunts and his unconventional lifestyle.
During our visit, we quickly realise that Andreu is not playing. He really is what he seems. However, we had imagined the interior of his house to be different. Instead of chaos, there is order in the Lacondeguy household. The interior looks classic and grown-up. Shoes are taken off at the front door. If it weren't for all the trophies, the framed magazine titles and the disused Red Bull helmets as decoration - a dentist's family could also live here. We only realise later that the tidiness is also down to the women in the house. In addition to Andreu, his German girlfriend Lisa, his brother Lluis and his brother's girlfriend Nikol also live here.
Andreu, did you know that there are over 30 profiles with your picture and name on Facebook?
Uh, no. 30 is a hell of a lot. I discovered one once and wondered who it might be. 30, really?
Yes, have you ever written to one?
No, but I should. I didn't know about so many profiles. I have no idea who they might be. I wonder if they would accept my friend request?
Writing emails is not your strong point. We sent five emails, four WhatsApp messages and two text messages before you got in touch.
Ha ha, that's right. I quickly lose track of things. Especially when I'm offline for two or three days. I usually try to sit down after breakfast and answer all my emails - most of the time.
You epitomise the classic rock star freerider and are tattooed from head to toe. How do people react to your appearance who don't know that you are a professional athlete?
I don't know, after all I've had most of my tattoos since I was 17 years old. I don't even remember what it was like without them. But nowadays a lot of people have tattoos and there are guys walking around who look even crazier than me (laughs).
After ten wild years as a professional athlete, you now live here in the mountains with your girlfriend. Are you also slowly calming down?
Calmer? I think I'm still the same as I used to be. I still need a programme. My brother and his girlfriend also live here in my house. We rarely get bored. We usually have friends over, and if I really don't have anything to do and can't go biking, then I hike alone in the mountains and look for new trails. However, I can now also spend an evening on the couch if I have to.
And nothing else has changed in your lifestyle for almost ten years?
Yes, I try not to make the same mistakes a second or third time.
Which errors do you mean?
I now know what works and what doesn't. It's just normal life experience. I've already experienced a lot in my professional career. Now I'm certainly no longer travelling to places where biking might not be fun, or flying to a dirt jump competition that I don't even want to compete in.
Last year you won the most famous big mountain competition in the world, the Rampage. What has changed since then?
I haven't received an interview request from Playboy yet, if that's what you mean. But at least I made it into the Spanish news. The victory was good for me. Because since I only take part in the competitions I want to, it's harder to prove to my sponsors that I can still win. Now I can concentrate on my thing again in peace.
That would be?
Doing what I enjoy doing. I'm planning an elaborate video. That will take a lot of time. And then there's our Fest Series (a rider-organised jam session without a ranking/editor's note). The rest of the time I just want to go biking.
You don't currently have a clothing sponsor. On a FREERIDE cover you were seen biking shirtless. Was that a hidden message to potential sponsors?
(Laughs) Maybe, but I hadn't really thought about it that much. The fact is that my former sponsor went bankrupt. I started looking for a new one in the middle of last year. But that's not so easy. Because the companies whose clothing and protectors I would like to wear offered me too little money. Other companies aren't cool enough for me - I don't wear that stuff.
Can a professional afford such an attitude?
Of course a lot of money is lost, but I want to be able to identify with my sponsor. Anything else is rubbish and untrustworthy. At the moment, I buy my clothes, shoes and protectors normally in the shop or get them as gifts. At least that way I can wear what I like.
As a professional freerider, don't you also have to be a businessman?
Actually, yes, but I wouldn't describe myself as one of those people. My tax return is taken care of by someone who knows about it. I certainly don't do that myself. I now negotiate with the companies myself. It's important not to sell yourself short. Many companies prefer to just supply their drivers with their products instead of paying money. But they rake in a lot of money through the image gain.
They say FMB star Brandon Semenuk earns 400,000 dollars a year. Do you play in the same league?
400,000 dollars? Zzzz, that's peanuts (laughs, visibly amused).
Are freeriders underpaid in your eyes?
Yes, because we risk a lot and do extreme things. In addition, all the trips cost an enormous amount of money. The organisers pocket the big bucks, we only get to keep a little. And then there's the tax. I've even had to pay tax twice on prize money. In the USA and here in Spain. Sometimes I'm left with just half. It's crazy, isn't it?
You're one of the veterans in the scene. Do you need to start putting money aside or thinking about a plan B?
No, I want to stay a pro for a long time yet. Because I can't get enough of riding my big bike in the most beautiful places in the world and flying 25 metres through the air. That's another reason why I now live in the mountains. Here I can ride my big bike every day. I do what I feel like doing and I get paid for it. I still really like it after all these years. What's more, the days when I travelled to weird events are over.
Isn't it a bit comfortable to only do things that you enjoy?
What's wrong with that? It's not as if I'm sitting around lazily and doing nothing for my sponsors. This week, for example, a photographer is visiting. You get more media attention anyway with cool pictures and video projects. At the same time, I'm having fun. Doing things that you don't enjoy should be done by others.
The FMB Word Tour is no fun for you. The competition series is a platform for freeriders. You criticise it publicly. Why?
I'm just giving my opinion. In this case, the topic concerns me. Everyone is talking about a Freeride World Tour, which has nothing to do with freeriding at all. The term is actually being misused. They start with small hardtails, on licked courses that you could easily ride on a BMX bike. What does that have to do with mountain biking? Admittedly, I used to enjoy such events. I'm now old enough to know that mountain bikes are built for riding in the mountains.
What is freeriding for you?
For me, freeriding means jumping big jumps with big bikes and all that in the mountains. The idea of a competition doesn't really fit. After all, why should the jury decide who has ridden down the mountain the most casually? After all, it's called free riding. If you really want to judge the runs, then the riders should do it themselves. After all, they know best how challenging the terrain is or how tricky the tricks are to jump.
The Rampage suits you, despite the jury and ranking. What makes the competition so unique?
The Rampage is different. It is the freeride event par excellence. It always has been. Only real freeriders can score points in this terrain. But here you also need other skills that have nothing to do with biking.
What would they be?
You have to build a functioning line into the slope. Because without it, even the best freerider can't achieve anything here. And because 40 other riders want to create a winning descent on the small slope, there is a lot of rivalry here. Trouble is inevitable.
The freeride motto: "We're all friends and having fun" doesn't seem to apply here.
No, the Rampage is the World Championships for freeriders. Nerves are on edge because the sponsors have high hopes for their riders' participation. Everyone wants to prove themselves and show what they can do. Some riders therefore put a lot of pressure on themselves, because how you perform at the Rampage usually has an impact on your career. Either you are cheered or you end up in hospital.
You were cheered. First place. Many spectators' blood freezes in their veins when they see where you jump off on a bike. You too?
Ha ha, thank God not. But I also have respect for the height. Nothing must go wrong. You have to act wisely.
What do you mean?
You have to be able to weigh up the dangers. Estimating the approach speed is particularly tricky. Then you have to consider whether you believe you will land safely at the bottom or whether you doubt it. If you doubt it, then don't do it! Because you alone have to live with the consequences.
But even you have to overcome yourself sometimes.
Sure, but if I firmly believe that it will work out, I don't find it so difficult. Provided the conditions are right. Unfortunately, at a commercial competition, nobody asks about that. They say months in advance: Sunday, the Xth at four o'clock, that's it. Nobody knows whether it will be windy that day, how you'll feel or whether the sun will shine on your face. That's when it gets dangerous and things can go wrong.
When was the last time something went wrong for you?
(Thinks for a long time) Erm, I don't remember. I've fallen hard many times. I don't want to know how many concussions I've had. But I've never really hurt myself that badly (Andreu knocks on the wooden table in front of him).
Does that make you feel invincible?
Possible. Anyone who has ever been seriously injured thinks more about the consequences. I often notice this in riders who come back after an injury break. They get scared more quickly.
What is an Andreu afraid of in everyday life?
Mmh (pause). Flying. I prefer travelling by car, even long distances. Imagine the pilot is having a bad day. Maybe his girlfriend has cheated on him or something - and then he screws up and the plane crashes. It's not a good feeling to make your life dependent on others. When I'm cycling, on the other hand, it's up to me whether I survive the air crash in one piece.
Laurin Lehner
Editor
