I remember vividly being extremely excited when heading for my first proper mountain bike ride. Following the pattern of a typical trekking day, I purposely pushed a bike up a mountain trail for a fair number of hours, with little to non-existent pedaling time. The fast descent back home on an asphalt mountain road was exhilarating.
It definitely seems borderline stupind now, but back then it made a lot of sense. The notion of mountain biking found its way into my little universe back in the nineties, and it was a simple process of adding together two things very close to my heart. Mountains, and biking.
My passion for mountains is far older than the one for cycling. On skis at an age I don’t have many memories from, or hiking mountain trails with my family, and later with friends, being in the mountains always felt like a conflicting arrangement between reverence and empowerment. Feeling important and insignificant at the same time. Filled with joy and accomplishment for being able to reach such a special place, intimidated by the sheer size of everything around.
I learned to ride a bike while a kid, but it was just a way of getting faster from here to there. Biking turned to cycling later on, after discovering there is a work-out dimension to it. Spinning the cranks on a communist-era trekking-bike for a couple of hours on local roads solved both the need for physical exercise and the release of excess endorphins.
That first mountain bike ride happened almost thirty years ago. The approach changed some years later to pedaling up on the asphalt road, and descending on the hiking trail. Today I would pedal up the hiking path and come down on a steeper, more technical trail. A lot has changed, from personal bike skills to state of the art bike technology. But many stayed the same, especially the conflicting nature of my love for the mountains, as something providing both pain and pleasure.
It’s exhilarating to reach a high mountain spot and enjoy the view. Getting there by (cable) car is nice, and easy. But working my way up the hard way feels better. Feels more complete. There is a small ski resort in our local mountain, with a decent assortment of cable cars, gondolas and ski lifts, providing uplift not just for winter, but also for the constantly growing lines in the bike-park. I hardly use them, preferring more and more skinning up through the forest during the ever fading ski season, and pedaling up for the rest of the time.
The tours here at mtbtours.ro are born out of this approach to mountain biking. In a time and age where assisted uplifts, and (or?) electric bikes are taking over, you will still find here old-style, leg-powered mountain biking, where the emphasis is more on natural mountain trails, and less on manicured, bikepark-style runs. Sure, the descents make the experience whole, and there is plenty of intensity, technicality, flow, and adrenaline rush about them. But first, we climb. That’s how I like it, and if you like it too, you are in the right place. Let’s go mountain biking. Or better: let’s bike in the mountains.
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