Once, sheltering from a storm in the Alps, I met some Germans. We’d just climbed off the lift; they’d ridden up a thousand metres of fire road. Hiding from the rain, we started chatting. And if I’m honest, I began to feel a tad lazy, not to mention embarrassed, because they spoke fluent English. I only know the German for ‘Black Forest Gateau’ Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte, good, eh?), but, try as I might, I couldn’t quite work it into the conversation. They asked us where we were going and we started babbling enthusiastically about the choice of endless natural singletrack descents around us. But our new friends weren’t interested. ‘Ve just like to climb,’ they said, before rattling back down the same fire road they’d climbed up. Weirdos.
Secretly though, I like a good climb too. And there are great ones all over the UK, from mythical giants like Jacob’s Ladder in the Peak District to tiny, tucked-away challenges such as the short but horrendously steep grunt out of Smith’s Combe in the Quantocks. However, unlike my Teutonic friends, I like to follow my climbs with something sweet – a dessert, if you will (I knew there was a way). There’s got to be a descent to match the climb.
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