AIN’T NO MOUNTAIN HIGH ENOUGH

“You should go, Chris – enjoy the trail!” Cyril says. I push down on the pedals of my Cube Stereo 140 e-MTB and, not realising that the motor’s still set to Turbo from the last steep alpine climb, rocket off along the hillside singletrack at what feels like terminal velocity and disappear below the treeline. As I wrestle back control from my overenthusiastic steed and kill the electronic assistance, I race through the woods, my nostrils filling with the crisp scent of pine needles and wild mushrooms. The tyres make a soft whir as they spin over the autumn leaves blanketing the trail, and my heart skips as the rocky features hidden beneath them repeatedly jolt the bike off-line. Tight switchbacks are followed by 12in-wide wooden planks acting as makeshift bridges over glacial streams. The voice in my head that normally screams at me to slow down is silent, and I realise this is probably the most fun I’ve ever had on a mountain bike.

As the trail crosses a mountain road, I reluctantly pause in a layby and wait for the others. We ride together into the next village, where our driver Martin is waiting with the van. Cyril extracts several brown paper bags. “Time for lunch!”