A Girl's Best Friend

Somewhere between gravel and sky, Greta Weithaler squared up with the climb like a kid eyeing the tallest slide at the park. No motor and no e-battery to stress over. Just lungs, legs, and her Cannondale Habit LT—sharp on the switchbacks and itching to ride. This journey would be powered by pedaling— pure and simple. Malou, her four-legged trail boss, shot ahead like she had caught site of a pack of scrambling squirrels. Greta grinned. Game on.

Ten kilometers in, Il Bivacco della Pace emerged from the cliffs with an air of quiet conquest. Once a shelter for mountaineers and wanderers, it now stood as a goalpost for anyone looking to trade emails for altitude. Greta respects the history of this land, but she was here to outrun inboxes, toast her calves, and prove she could keep up with a dog who clearly thought she could use a bit more cardio. The gravel gave way to singletrack with personality—steep, rocky, and slightly sassy. Greta leaned into every bit of it, her bike staying nimble and surefooted where others might reconsider. Meanwhile, Malou zigzagged through the brush, her speed just increasing as the kms stacked up. Somewhere between the huffing, pedaling, and dog-chasing, Greta found her rhythm—and the world faded into the void of the narrowing valley below.

The bivouac waited with the kind of sunset that could make you believe in magic. No Wi-Fi. No notifications. Just candlelight, cards, and a three-course meal that would raise a few Michelin eyebrows—if gummy bears counted as dessert. Malou, blissfully free from existential thoughts, flopped beside her with the assurance of one who always finds the soft spot.

Morning rolled in—wrapped in shades of pink and gold. Snow melted into coffee, belly rubs were issued to the trail MVP, and outside, her Habit LT stood ready—adorned in dust, no charging cables required. Greta clipped in. Gravity took the lead. The descent wasn’t a ride; it was a dance—tight turns, playful drops, and the kind of speed that makes your cheeks hurt from grinning.

Because at the end of the ride, it’s not about summit selfies or Strava stats. It’s about answering the call of the climb, chasing your furry friend, and realizing that sometimes, the best reward is knowing the limit is you.