At the start of Dust and Summer, Mark is stirred from his slumber by his iPhone alarm (other smart phones are available). No doubt he was dreaming of riding as he’s in his kit already. And from there in Dust and Summer takes a different path to the one that most readers will be familiar with …

Do you sleep in your riding kit?

Do you wake up on a sunny, dry day, stumble from a Spanish villa into a pristine workshop, faff with a new disk rotor, load up a van and go for a ride, all the while being filmed?

Didn’t think so.

I think if any of us slept in our riding kit we’d soon be single, or sleeping on the sofa. Or more likely in the garage. Once settled in there we’d probably fix that rotor after giving the bike a clean and maybe checking brake pads before getting some sleep and dreaming of dust, and summer.

No doubt when we awoke, cold and sore from a night in our bike storage, we’d find a phantom flat. A tyre that was inflated the night before that somehow has lost the willingness to hold air overnight. So we’d grab the other bike, the one that wasn’t cleaned the night before where the gears are a bit out and we’re really not sure how old the pads are, and go ride. Or, if the x = n + 1 theory hasn’t been applied we’d curse and find a tube, or worse still work out why the tubeless setup we’re so happy with suddenly let us down.

Then ride.

Dust? You’ll be lucky. Mud, grit, sludge and probably some tarmac or trail center hardcore.

Summer? Maybe, usually in spring or autumn. Brief moments when the rain forgets to fall and trails are dry, our selective memory shielding us from wet summer days when sealskinz and waterproof shorts are pulled from drawers so we can enjoy ‘summer’.

But the result is the same. Smiles. Who needs dusty Spanish singletrack when you’ve got a slippery muddy bridleway. Two wheel dusty drift Vs two wheeled slippery slide. The smiles are the same. As is the post ride beer.

Happy trails.

The post Dust & Summer: Reality Check appeared first on Joyriders.

On a recent trip to Spain, Evelyn and I were staying in the Alpujarras for a week of R&R – part of which was a planned hike up Mulhacén with an overnight stop at Las Siete Lagunas.

We set off from Trevélez (the highest village in Spain), with our alarm clock going off at 6:45am. It’s an hour later before we’re actually up and getting the tent packed away and the rest of our kit sorted. Breakfast is demolished – Alpujarran honey for extra energy.

“Intrepid Explorers my arse” as my cooking pots go flying!

Trevélez is steep and hard to navigate – this is probably the hardest part! Finally we near the top of the village and pick up our trail for Las Siete Lagunas. Rocky steps and a gentle plod as we wind our way out of the Trevélez valley. We pass small holdings, old shepherds, young shepherds on horseback and a few other fellow hikers. At the meadows (La Campiñela) we search out a very low looking spring, happy to find some water.

The final leg of the winding open trail brings us to the bottom of a steep waterfall. The going is tough and very loose in places – particularly with a large pack on your back.

“We’re going up that!”

However, we’re greeted with a magical sight! Las Siete Lagunas (the seven lakes) is a 3000 metre plateau, with one prominent lake feeding the waterfall. On higher, rocky ledges are the smaller lakes. It’s truly a magical place! There’s a chill in the air, but it’s so fresh. Ibex walk through our camp, two males duelling with each other – the clear winner, a hardened looking buck who investigates our camp with interest. We stow our food away, particually the cheese (which was our saviour on the way up)!

Feet are sore and legs ache. A wash in the ice cold spring and a spot of mountain yoga to loosen the legs.

We crawl into the tent early – after tea – to get warm. We’re apprehensive about tomorrow’s climb, but equally apprehensive about how cold it is up here. Will we be warm enough tonight? Ev hopes the Ibex won’t break in!

Why do we want to climb up a mountain?

• So we can feel comfortable when we get down?
• It’s Fun?
• Something new?

As we lie in the tent, slowly warming, I can’t help but notice how quiet it is. Apart from the odd munch of grass (I assume this was the Ibex, not Evelyn) and the odd whistle of the wind over the mountain tops, there are no other sounds. Deathly quiet.

The next morning we are greeted by the sun as it comes into view, its warmth rapidly filling the tent. It was a cold night, we were only just warm enough. It’s hard to gauge what kit you’ll need when the lower valleys are 30ºc. We stay in the tent for awhile, allowing the sun to warm our bones. I grab the down jacket and unzip the tent, the cold air pours in. I take a lung full of fresh mountain air and step out.

The view is stunning, fresh and awe-inspiring. Mulhacén’s peak bears down on us, beckoning.

With the cold night, the springs being dryer than normal and a limited supply of cooking gas, we decide to head down that day. But not without summiting!

Quickly water is put on the boil for tea. Kit is packed and divided into things we don’t need for the top – carefully hidden amongst the rock fields.

A long barren climb gets us to the top at 12:00pm, 3479 metres.

The top is overwhelming, we feel woozy, with a mild sense of anticlimax. The trek up and the over night camp were, in many ways, more of an experience than reaching the summit. Perhaps we prefer being in the mountains, to being on top of them.

It’s a long way down. Just a day earlier we were looking up at these huge mountains. Suddenly we’re looking down on them as if they’re insignificant!

We make a good pace in our descent – 1 hour back to our kit at Las Siete Lagunas. A tricky climb down the water fall (with slightly lighter packs), then a good pace on the open trails (this would be an awesome descent on the mountain bike!). Our spirits start off high and we’re almost skipping down the mountain. Energy fades as we near the end. Legs hurt and we drag ourselves through the streets of Trevélez (again the hardest part of the day).

Straight into the first hostel we find. After a few days camping, even the most basic hostel seems like luxury. Bliss!

The next day’s recovery walk!

The post The highest village to the highest mountain appeared first on Joyriders.