The poetry of mountain biking, part 2.

Over the past 12 months, I’ve logged a few hours doing trail improvements in Pemberton. Well, mostly I battle mosquitoes. And fill buckets with mineral earth to shuttle back and forth, while the people with real skills build bridges and berms and analyze lines and tell me where to go next. But the tally of…

What would you blow off to ride? Confession-time.

The first time I rode A River Runs Through It (fist-pump! Cleared the bridge! Husband pushed his bike across… ), I should really have been somewhere else. I had blown off the second half of the Slow Food Cycle, an event I had organised, to switch the road cruiser for a squishy bike and go…