Those who are lucky enough to often go mountain biking experience a sort of routine, in which the rides are all similar to each other, a sort of loop that repeats itself and gets a little confusing. Then come those special days in which nature, more than the track, leaves a feeling of intense well-being in the mind.
For me it is precisely the period between autumn and winter, the one that precedes Christmas, to be clear, that most often gives me those good vibrations that the Beach boys sang many years ago and which are the chimera that I aspire to every time I get on my MTB.

The fiery colors of an autumn morning, when the air becomes a little crisp and heralds the winter season, or those days in which it seems that at any moment it will start to snow, or even the day after the snow has made its appearance, when the clear sky creates an explosion of colours, scents and sensations that make you suspend all thoughts and bring your mind and body back into balance.

Situations that have a season in common and that have a precise common thread that binds them, silence.
Silence as a state of mind, a sound that envelops you and accompanies you away from routine and that only the season of hibernation can recreate perfectly; when everything stops, as if nature held its breath for a moment before the big leap.

These are the perfect outings, the ones that I remember even after some time and that are part of the fireplace stories; where soft focus, technique and speed give way to introspective emotions.
Each of us will have a place in our heart where we can recover balance; that climb, that stretch of woods or that mountain where you can take refuge to feel at home and at peace

Each of us will have a safe place, and now, when the sky is turning gray again and it seems like it will start snowing again at any moment, I'd better get on my MTB and reach it.
