A drop in temperature and a switch to grimmer weather always affects me in two ways.
One is the determination to embrace the difference and keep on riding through whatever the conditions. The need to not bow down or alter riding just because it’s got colder/wetter/muddier/whatever. It’s a time to adapt, to adjust but to otherwise carry on as normal.
Nature is change and change is good, as someone somewhere once said*
But, it’s also a time when the migration urge takes hold. Because secretly I greedily still want the warmth, and dust, and dry. Because I’ve been that used to travelling to ride that I actually miss it. I love my local, but yearn for proper mountains. And to satisfy that yearning I’ve had to get the maps out, because all good adventures start with maps. Right?
Sometimes adventures stay bubbling on the back burner; a plan filed away for a future escape opportunity. Sometimes everything in the universe aligns and off you go. But time spent poring over maps is never time wasted. There’ll always be a time that’s right for plans to come to fruition. There’s always hope.
So I’m busy planning a road trip to the mountains. Somewhere south, somewhere where the hint of summer lingers on, somewhere where I’ll get that one last fix of perfect riding that’ll get me through the winter.
So where would your perfect road trip take you?