VIP Shortenduro tour

The forest opens without warning. One minute you're threading two-track under spruce, the next you're on an open ridgeline with nothing ahead of you but air.

Shepherd paths and logging roads, ridden long before anyone called it enduro. Villages where the asphalt runs out. A guide ahead of you who knows which line goes and which one only looks like it does.

Then the ground asks you a question: a rutted climb, steeper than it looked from below. You stand up, pick your line, and for a few seconds the world is the next three metres of dirt. At the top, your guide grins and rolls on. He knew you'd clear it before you did.

Evenings, the engines go quiet and Sibiu takes over: six centuries of cobblestone, a cold beer, a square used to tired people arriving.

Three days of it. Weeks later, you'll still be riding that climb in your head.