I discovered Montserrat and its Mountain Bike Challenge the same way most people find their private little treasures--by chance.

In 1993 I was thumbing through the event schedules in the back of VeloNews when--"Hey, what the heck?"--I saw an ad for a "challenging" race in the Caribbean. Now, mix the Carib in with some mountain-bike racing and I'm almost sold. So I called and it sounded interesting. Plans were made, as they say.

Fact is, the trip was the start of a love affair with a unique island in the West Indies, a place where riding presents an exciting new challenge, and the beaches...

In 1993, the event was in its second year, and featured a cross-country and dual slalom. I won the overall and knew a return to the island was a definite. The next year, organizers added a hillclimb totaling 2,000 vertical feet in less than two miles. The pool of riders continued to grow, attracting more from neighboring islands and beyond.

Again, I won the event--a sure way to build undying loyalty to an event--but it was getting much tougher. Before I left the island, everyone was getting together to start planning for 1995, recommending changes to the courses and events, all driven by a true appreciation for this island's newborn racing tradition.

The quick and earlier enthusiasm for the Montserrat event is something organic. This is a place and event that has everything needed to become a lasting success. You see, mountain bikers rate a ride, race, or tour by its difficulty, scenery, and storytelling potential. As I said, a slam dunk. But toss in three recent hurricanes and a newly active volcano spewing ash and smoke, and things have gotten really interesting lately.

In July, after 16,000 years in dormancy, the local volcano decided to blow its top. The town of Plymouth was covered with ash, as were many other areas of the island. The medical school moved to Belize and thousands of residents fled, fearing a huge eruption. The volcano continues to show life, including a recent 4 a.m. blow under a full moon. But the fear has subsided.

The volcano had no real effect on the event. The hurricanes and torrential rain did, however, especially on the hillclimb, where mudslides and 3-foot deep ruts made it unrideable. The cross-country course got its share of hurricane damage--plenty of ruts and downed trees--but a little extra horsepower made it passable.

The hillclimb up the paved but brutally steep St. Georges hill requires use of the easiest gears (26 by 32 for me) to complete the 1,000-foot elevation gain over some nasty switchbacks. And the downhill has all these features plus walls of thorn bushes that lead the Arawak tribe to dub this Alliouagana, or land of the prickly bush. A wandering goat or two adds an unpredictable twist to a thriller.

This year, the cross-country course was the same as in the past, with the start/finish at Island Bikes, an old school that has been reborn as a bike shop, camp, and all-around gathering place. The seven-mile loop begins on a short gravel road before hitting the single track. The adventure begins.

Jungle canopy, mossy rocks, mud, and speed. Into a clearing where the cattle slowly turn to watch as you whiz by, then zip, back into the "jungle track." A blazing downhill with scampering iguanas to keep you focused, and then a hike-a-bike. More technical climbing, a little road section for recovery from the 90-degree tropical heat, another hike, and then a technical downhill winding its way back down to the start. The expert/pro group took just about one hour to complete their three circuits.

Every year, the racing produces some memorable moments. So, too, does the post-race festivities. Prizes are awarded to everyone during a sunset barbecue. A local band is pulled together for dancing and relaxation on the beach, and in the days that follow, a gentle cycle of snorkeling, windsurfing and beach time kicks in.

A new feature this year will be trips out to the volcano and its huge river-wide mud flows. And maybe a hike to the top of the 2,000-foot high Chances Peak for a chance peak into the volcano's crater.

A little risky perhaps, but taking a chance on the unknown often leads to great things.

Franklin Henry is a professional mountain biker living in Boulder, Colorado