There’s a time of year deep in the Southern Alps when everything goes quiet and cold. People batten down the hatches, light the fire, and wait for the snow to fall. The weather is typically stable and, as a consequence, the dreaded inversion kicks in.

The bike is our tool, connecting us to land, community, and the act of travel itself.

I was talking to one of the team chiropractors the other day, passing time in the car park of a Belgian hotel while I waited for the riders to come down for training, and I mused on the fact that these riders are so young when they are being scouted and signed these days.

It's a mild day on a winding, potholed, single track road on the banks of Loch Awe (on the West Coast of Scotland). Pines and oaks hang overhead and a rusted sign points to an old, rutted cattle driving path over the hills.

There’s a time of year deep in the Southern Alps when everything goes quiet and cold. People batten down the hatches, light the fire, and wait for the snow to fall. The weather is typically stable and, as a consequence, the dreaded inversion kicks in.

The bike is our tool, connecting us to land, community, and the act of travel itself.

I was talking to one of the team chiropractors the other day, passing time in the car park of a Belgian hotel while I waited for the riders to come down for training, and I mused on the fact that these riders are so young when they are being scouted and signed these days.

It's a mild day on a winding, potholed, single track road on the banks of Loch Awe (on the West Coast of Scotland). Pines and oaks hang overhead and a rusted sign points to an old, rutted cattle driving path over the hills.