The speed is now getting close to being described as plain old ridiculous, there’s no way we can keep this up without a fatality. Free falling down the side of a mountain on nothing more than loose dirt, flint, rock and rubber. Heart rate higher even when gravity assisted than on the ascent.

What started as a little fun is rapidly turning into something a whole lot more sinister. A moments lack of concentration and you’re over the edge. Or worse still, you could lose out to one of the tail gunners behind.

It’s a pretty self explanatory word “singletrack”, normally relating to a section of trail only wide enough for one. Five miles pass and its definition could have been rewritten a dozen times over. Like four Jedi warriors slicing through the trees on a crazed and rampant battle to the end. A touch of wheels, brakes locked, arms bent and poised ready to absorb the impact.

Blood shed, we’re now down to three. God only knows how we made that bend without vaporising into the stratosphere. Perhaps the lack of oxygen at altitude has added to our lunacy, or maybe it’s just that nobody wants to give an inch. The final switchbacks are duked out with just as much venom as the first until we roll to a halt at the end of the trail.

As breathing returns to normal the warrior trance evaporates, replaced with nothing more than the innocence of childish laughter. The joy at something so simple resonates untold.

Bikes, friends, trails. Why would you ever want anything else?