Absolute focus. This moment was all about the thrill of racing along the trail, anticipating the direction of the next turn, guessing how big those rocks were and picking the rigiit line as the bike careered over sporadic streams in a spray of cold water. Nothing else mattered as I weaved between tree trunks, under overhanging branches and around huge rocks. The closeness of the forest exaggerated the sense of speed and yes, I was on a high.
Several metres away one of those typically clear West Coast rivers crashed and cascaded its way over giant granite and marble boulders, but its beauty went almost unnoticed as I concentrated on the path ahead.
It was the second day of my journey, and I had reached the last 8km of a 25km section from Lyell to Stern Huts. Already I understood why trampers and mountain bikers got so excited
