In a way I wish I had a map of all the places I’ve photographed people. I suppose in the bicycle years it’d largely be a map of the Alps, Dolomites and Belgium. I have a mental map of sorts and some names have more pencil circles drawn over the map squares than most. Annecy is one. Home to the friends in yellow of course made it figure highly, but it’s an understandably dream destination for holidays and emigration alike. That and photographing cyclists headed upwards into the low clouds.
This time it was wintry. Warm drinks finished as gloves signed up for duty. And the weight and imminence of the clouds not far above looked ready to test the waterproofing of thousands of pounds worth of Nikon investment. It’s times like these that it makes sense to have bought the ones with the rubber seals round the buttons that are overkill 99% of the time.
The usual hardship of riding for cameras is of the waiting around and being asked to do the same thing over and over again. But at least it’s usually in a new and sunny place. There was a sense of impending hardship on cranks that morning. We all knew this wouldn’t end dry. At least I was half in a car for cover, my respect went out to those that had the harder job of riding bikes and making it look like a rewarding experience.
A cameo appearance by some hooligoats was hoped a good omen
Nico Roux in a natural habitat – halfway between sea and snow caps, working hard, cornering fast.
Therese the Swede being reminded of why she moved to the Mediterranean I imagine.
One advantage of photographing the testing of new advances in clothing is fresh protection with every new memory card.
It was a hard day’s riding. And they made it look effortless. Graceful even. To work with a subject that’s part of your DNA is a blessing. To do that with good people that become friends afterwards is bliss. To go over a mountain far from dry and still smile on the other side is proof of that.