‘Buuzzzzzzzztt!’ came the shrill noise from Super Morzine cable car.
Perhaps the sensor had detected that my bike was a skinny tyred, gravel bike. Much to the bemusement of the armoured and full-face-sporting yoof, I had the look of a middle-aged man who brought a plastic picnic knife to a gun fight. No suspension, no body armour, an open-face helmet – what the hell had I been thinking when I agreed to this madness?
The full artcile is published in Singletrack World Magazine issue 162
