I wait at the top of the trail. We’ve been hike-a-biking for maybe an hour or so, although we’ve not travelled that far. The nearly 3000m altitude has something to do with that, as do the views above the majestic Coll Agnel – dropping down into Italy and across into the French Queyras range. The huge Monte Viso stands proud in the crispest of early autumn skies.
Having one wardrobe for the weekend and another for the office is an expensive hobby - instead, invest in quality gear that can front up to the great outdoors without looking out of place on your Monday morning commute
I was gifted and reacquainted with the spirit of adventure and wanted others to experience it too. For me, it was a calling. That ever-present vibration and rhythm, that lies within all of us. The thing that gives us a twinkle in our eye, and a skip in our step.
While I’d never deliberately solicit these scars to myself or the tools I use, they are so much more than just a necessary evil of what I choose to do.
I’m half way through one of those winter rides. The temperature has been hovering just above zero, the air is damp, dank and somehow feels colder than if it were sub-zero.
Climbing has always played a big part of my adventures, like meditation, I could clear my mind, stay focused and I could cycle to the rhythm of my heartbeat.