Sunday morning far above Engelberg. I've spent the night in the mountain inn and am outside before the hikers arrive. The day before, it had rained cats and dogs, and the weather forecast promised a dry day, but not a sunny one. I'm unlikely to encounter crowds of hikers at half past eight in the morning. I therefore dare to take a hiking trail as my first descent. Engelberg has built a few trails in recent years and expects bikers to leave the other paths to those on foot. I have taken the liberty of making an exception for the reasons mentioned above.

The hiking trail is beautifully embedded in the terrain on a ridge that slopes gently at first, then more steeply. I approach the descent carefully. The path is rarely steep, but quite bumpy. As I move forward at walking pace, even harmless steps are a major obstacle. It would be ideal practice terrain, as the path is never exposed but is tricky almost all the way.

Because I don't feel like hitting the scattered football-sized stones or angular rocks, I descend time after time. My self-confidence dwindles with each premature click-off. Once again, I doubt my suitability for this sport and console myself with my particularly good sense today, thanks to which I make it to the bottom without bruises. I don't meet any hikers.

Despite the not at all smooth descent, this search for difficult but rideable trails is what fascinates me about mountain biking. Built trails, on the other hand, are a bit like fast food for me: simple fare that has to appeal to as many people as possible. Even if they are challenging, they rarely surprise me.

After the hardships of the hiking trail, liberation on the slopes

Two hours and a breakfast later, I'm back at the top and tackle the Engelberg trails. I skip the flow trail, "Hells Bells" is a red trail and "Trudy" is a black trail. I let it roll, after all, these are built trails. It's a well-known fact that every jump and every bend works, there are no hikers and the trails aren't dangerous either. The faster I roll, the better everything works. I skip steps and doubles that I've never seen before, I brake just before tight bends, I let it roll like I usually only do on trails that I've been riding for years. I obviously have two riding modes: one for single trails that weren't designed for bikers and a second for built trails. I prefer to leave the brakes open for longer rather than shorter. Sometimes it feels as if it's not even me who is chasing the bike over the bumpy track.

I have to admit, after the early morning rush, it's liberating to let rip. And yes, it's great fun. All the more so as the trail builders have managed to integrate rocks and scree in such a way that some sections are quite rough to ride despite all the shape work. Nevertheless, I have the feeling that only my tires are in danger here. I'm not worried about myself.

With the momentum from the bike trails, I then roll downhill. On the less predictable hiking trail sections, I'm now riding much more smoothly than on my first descent in the morning. It's pure joy. At the bottom, I know that bike trails are a good thing for me too, now and again. Today, they helped me to cope better with my favorite terrain, which always overwhelms me.