Hannah takes a mountain biker’s pilgrimage.

WORDS & PHOTOGRAPHY HANNAH

I have waited for this. Maybe months, maybe years. Acquiring something of a legendary status, I have heard about this place. Huge slabs and swathes of red rock, towering up to dizzying heights and dropping away to hip-cracking depths. Bulbous outcrops and plunging cleavages punctuate the landscape. In, out, over and down – there are no routes, but lines to everywhere. Pick an angle and roll. Choose a drop and jump. Geology, geometry, traction, and trigonometry. An alien landscape of extraordinary experiences. And now, I’m here. the wait has been worth it. No, necessary. Earlier would have been too soon. Before, I would have been nervous. Tense, rigid, too afraid to let go and fly. Now, I am ready. the entry. Plunge down the lip, throwing the final drop and reaching the flowing rhythm of the shelf. Waves swoop. I ride, standing, pumping, popping, hopping. Crest a wave, take flight, dive back in. In. Out. Arch up, arch back down. Shift left, shift right – extending the line, prolonging the play. Not slowing, just reaching out for new corners, curves, lips and leaps.