It’s always nice to shred trails behind the house you already know.
You know it up and down. You’re efficient. Know what to pack, where to stop and how to max up time to vertical ratio.
But if you’re not on the clock, it quickly gets boring.
That’s why I seek & ride new trails, even when they don’t look as promising as those I already know.
Today, I went to Albula Pass.
Did my homework, got on a train and went for the unknown.
Train ride was a short one. I’ve jumped on board in Samedan, cut mountains under by 5865m long tunnel and bounced off in Preda. A Tiny village drowned between giant rock walls.
The weather forecast was 50/50. In Graubünden, even the best forecast models can’t predict the weather perfectly. With a valley floor over 1700 meters and peaks over 4000 meters, the unpredictable character of mountain weather really shows up.
So I’m peddalling up to Albula Pass immersed in mystic fog, under drooling clouds. The rain is manageable, even enjoyable. It’s cooling me down nicely.
I hear thunder in the distance. Don’t give a damn. I’ve got used to it already.
I keep pounding. Thunder too.
It’s getting closer, the sky is flashing like indecisive arc lamp. At least rain is keeping it’s friendly mood.
Getting around the hairpin turn and see a small mountain hut. I’ve decided to check if it’s unlocked, drink the coffee and see how’s thunder doing.
Road biker was sneaking behind, when I’ve turned towards the hut. He looked serious about his Strava shit. We’ve nodded at each other and split ways.
The hut was closed, but at least I’ve had a roof over my head. I’ve put a dry jacket on, opened thermos with hot coffee and stand there for a good 60 seconds.
Then, this…
So I’m standing there, warm and dry, thinking about that road biker… Imagining how are those 3 lower back pockets of his road jersey are filling up with graupel. I’ll call him Ice Cube:-]
Back to my backpack, full of treasures. Pulling the next one. Two laugenbrôtchen thick with butter, swiss cheese, verdure sauce, cilantro, sesame seeds, lettuce, salt and pepper. YAM!
In a meanwhile, as I’m nibbling my sandwich, rain and thunder stopped. So I pack my plums get back on a mission.
I’m pumping legs uphill with a grin on my face. And here it goes: “mountain justice inbound”. A cold shower for smart-ass mountainbiker, who escaped the previous one.
Well, it’s what it is. Rain jacket on, grin off. Time to point down the Albula trail. And I’ll tell ya, it’s epic!
…So epic, that cows like it too. They pounded it with hoofs and spiced it up with fresh shit.
Here’s the mathematical equation for a moutainbiker riding in the Alps. Cow shit + rain + no front wheel fender = cowshit on the face.
So I’m breathing through my nose and dodging between enemies – wild salmon style.
Whatever. It’s always fun to be out there. Albula trail is sick! [In dry and shitless conditions.]
