The golden trip

Bikepacking has been, for many years, a constant in my life, from the early stages with the Roosters, where I did my longest trips in Japan and Ukraine on a fixed-gear bike, to later on with gravel bikes and a bit more of an easy-pace, fun mindset. I always loved the simplicity of it and the capacity it has to put your mind in a flow state where only the basics matter.

In the last years, this activity was not in my agenda anymore. A surgery and its recovery, moving to Switzerland, and all the struggles that came with this change had put this very much on the side, as had my focus on paragliding and the lack of friends who would be keen to share this kind of adventure.

Since I met Alex, we have always dreamed about bikepacking together. Despite our differences in style and approach to it, we both like the same things about it; the freedom it gives you, and the connection to the areas you are visiting and the people you are meeting. So this year, we put a small bikepacking trip on our goal list.

The summer faded out, autumn came, and this goal was still unticked on our list. After some talks about it, a date in the calendar was set, and the research into where to go started. At first, we looked for a low-terrain route that could ensure some milder temperatures, but when I saw Sara Bukies's route through Graubünden and Italy, my eyes sparkled at the sight of it. I shared it with Alex straight away, and she got the same feeling.

We came up with a bunch of excuses not to go into such high terrain so late in the year, but we managed to trust in our skills and gear, put those excuses aside, and go for it. Worst-case scenario, we could always turn around.

The forecast the day before showed us a nice, stable window that boosted our motivation to the maximum, and we were very happy to jump into an adventure together.

Midday Sun

We started our trip in Scuol with the idea of doing two nights outside and three days in the saddle. We set up some doable stages, focusing more on the elevation than on the distance, and with A and B options for sleeping, depending on how we felt.

All this took a lot of pressure off reaching a certain point every day and gave us room to enjoy ourselves and follow a comfortable pace for both of us.

Our approach was to have everything we could need with us, so we were nicely covered for spending nights out wherever we wanted. This feeling of being fully independent is one of the things that attract us to bikepacking. You can still move at a decent speed, feel efficient, and have total independence from huts or hotels most of the time.

One of the things I enjoyed the most was going back to this mode of selecting everything you want to put in your bags. Everything should have a purpose, and because of the limitation in space, you really need to think about where and how you will need it and whether it is really a necessity.

That brought me, during the trip, to think about how the infinite number of possibilities we have nowadays steal a lot of time and space in our minds, and how sometimes, or better said, most of the time, simplifying or limiting your options makes your mind more prone to adapt, relax, and be more creative. Definitely a lesson I would like to implement more and more in my daily life.

Limited space and cold weather means that every item must be carefully selected

Back on the trip, the landscape was unfolding slowly but constantly in front of us. The autumn light and colours, plus being on the move, made my old Sony NEX-3 be constantly in my hands, capturing this trip.

The Lärche, a tree very present in the area, was glowing among all the deep green of the other conifer trees that surrounded it. A beautiful contrast that made the landscape even more magical.

Golden Glow

The Lärche, a tree very present in the area, was glowing among all the deep green of the other conifer trees that surrounded it. A beautiful contrast that made the landscape even more magical.

Both nights, we slept quite high, above 2,200 m in altitude, but thanks to the inversion brought by the stable weather, the nights were warmer than down in the valley, and we were gifted with the first rays of sun quite early in the morning. Having breakfasts in the sun after a cold night is for sure one of those amazing pleasures in life.

We rode past many different landscapes, from deep golden forests to high plateaus where rocks and grass were the protagonists. Despite the beauty of the places, the feeling of loneliness was quite present, and in many of the areas, we could only see a few hikers and mountain bikers around. While pedalling around, we were wondering if that would also be the feeling in summer.

We jumped from Switzerland to Italy and back to Switzerland, doing 80% of our journey on gravel paths and single trails that more than once put us on the limit of comfort with a fully loaded bike. Despite some tricky sections, the route felt like a constant discovery and was always amazing us.

Different landscapes and terrain during our trip

Definitely a trip to remember, and one of those that will win a place in our memories forever, not only for being our first bike trip together, but also because it reconnected us with a part of ourselves that we both love and enjoy. It reminded us that there is nothing better than a breakfast in the sun, than feeling warm when it’s cold, and that we prefer to enjoy the landscape more than thinking about performance. Bikepacking again put things into perspective in our lives and made us question what is really needed to live and feel fulfilled. It helps us step away from the routine, disconnect to reconnect, and learn more about who we are and what makes us unique and fragile.

Once more, I have to say thank you to cycling for all the learning it brings if you are open to it.

Lessons from a Summer adventure

A couple of weeks ago, a friend suggested going camping on a summit near where we live to celebrate his birthday.

The plan was simple: take a good hike up to Ballëhöchst, sleep at the top, and then paraglide down the next morning.

For me, these kinds of adventures are the best opportunities to explore new places and take photos while documenting a beautiful day with friends in the mountains.

If you've ever gone camping or bivouacking in the mountains, you know that the weight of the gear you carry is something you have to be careful with. The same hike, with a 5 kg backpack or a 15 kg one, can go from being enjoyable to a damn eternal hell.

If you add professional photography equipment to that, no matter how light you try to go, you’re adding an extra 2 to 3 kilos.

Lately, I’ve been experimenting a lot with what to bring and what not to bring on these kinds of trips because, with the paraglider, ending up with a 20 kg backpack is pretty easy.

My most commonly used setup is a 16-35 mm lens, my Canon mirrorless camera, and a 50 mm lens. The 16-35 mm is not a small lens, and it’s also heavy, but I’ve found that it gives me a lot of versatility to capture what I want while we’re on the move or in the air during these adventures. The 50 mm, on the other hand, is my go-to lens for moments of calm and observation, portraits, and details once we stop.

That’s the photography part.

For sleeping, if we’re in pairs, the ideal is to divide the gear and food between the two of us. On this occasion, I had to carry all my stuff, so I opted for my lightest and most practical setup.

The tent with just the inner layer (lighting a candle to the Virgin Mary, hoping it wouldn’t rain), a 0-degree sleeping bag, an inflatable sleeping pad, and the Jetboil for cooking some noodles that are ready in 3 minutes.
But, being the good country boy that I am, a loaf of bread, a wedge of cheese, and 2 or 3 extra "just in case" items tipped the scale back towards the heavier side.

If the hike is going to be an eternal hell, there better be cheese at the end, right?

Back to photography—one very important thing in this kind of documentary mountain photography is being able to have a global vision of where you are, the weather, and how the light will be moving as the route progresses.
For me, these points are key to knowing when it’s worth getting ahead of the group and when it’s better to save energy and let the adventure unfold naturally.

This kind of photography is a beautiful game of guessing and technique that, in my view, can offer you a lot in other types of sessions. It teaches you to stay alert, be very observant, and know your gear inside out and how to get the most out of it.

I hope your next outing brings you many lessons like these and beautiful photos.

Bikes, friends and lots of film

To many people, when you mention electric bikes, they picture an older user who just wants a peaceful ride.

For ORBEA's Gain '23 campaign, the goal was clearly to break that stigma.
The concept was clear - young people enjoying a bike that can push you to the limit if that's what you seek, but also allows you to extend your rides or keep up with your stronger friends.

At NVCR.STUDIO, we handled the entire production process and went all out to shape a project that, in my opinion, has been one of the most enriching in our entire career.

In my particular case, I took care of location scouting and the still photography part, as well as the color grading of the final video.

For this occasion, we shot 50% in digital and 50% on film.

For the film part, I chose to use Eastman Kodak Company Vision 3 film with 250 and 500 ASA from SILBERSALZ 35, a film with an enormous dynamic range and very smooth transitions between tones. Since it's a cinema film, the development has to be done under the ECN-2 process and not the classic C-41. Aside from the technical details, all of this, along with the incredible scanning by SilberSalz, made the images look beautiful. Here's an example for you.

This image is just a glimp of the ones I shot, and you can view the complete project and case on our website

Lastly, always grateful for the great work of the entire team, who turned these days of intense work into "vacations" among friends.

Campaign Director: Quique Bueno
Editor: Laura Bueno
Assit: Iván Arribas Martínez
Photo: Mario Cranks
Riders: Isma Lopez, Zoë Calhoun, Julia Díaz Julve, Virginia Cancellieri, Simon

A unique mess

It was 4 in the morning when the alarm went off.

I was sleeping in the pop-up roof of the van, and the cold outside was anything but inviting to step out.

With my eyes half-shut and my body aching from the previous days, I managed to drag myself down to the lower part and start preparing breakfast on autopilot.

At that moment, all I could think was, "Damn, why did I get myself into this?" Slowly but surely, that thought faded from my mind, and I moved on to going through my equipment checklist before heading out.
"Batteries, cards, 24mm, 50mm, 70-200mm, water, nuts..." and a long list of things I knew were in my backpack.

Outside, there was hustle and bustle, and the headlamps of our Italian crew were constantly darting around.

"Andiamo Nicki!"

Damn! Let's get out of here...

I grabbed my things while trying not to choke on the last spoonful of porridge that felt like reinforced concrete.

I stepped outside, greeted the whole team, and turned around to see what lay ahead. We were at Tre Cime in the Dolomites, still dark, but what I saw left me stunned.

So stunned that the sprint I made to catch up with the Italians almost made me throw up that reinforced concrete I called breakfast earlier.

Fiore saw me and said, "Qué Mario!, ready for another day of catching Pokémons?"

You know it, buddy! I replied.

At that moment, I got into the zone and started shooting. I don't think I had ever seen such blue light, such mountains, and on top of that, we were alone...

All I could think was Damn! Thank goodness I got myself into this mess. This is unique!

But what I want you to take away today is that there's no other way to capture the photos you want than by getting your hands dirty. There are no shortcuts. There are better or worse methods, but no magic formulas.
Photography, like life, is about making decisions, playing the cards you're dealt, and making the best move with them.

That day, I could have stayed in bed or gone out later. We had been hiking for over 5 days, with daily ascents of over 1000m and 8-hour van trips. My whole body ached, but I knew theirs did too.

I knew it was going to be an epic day, I knew it was going to be something unique, and above all, I knew I had a commitment to fulfill.
And in the end, that's what sets apart a good photographer from one who isn't so good: the ability to commit to oneself and one's work.

You choose which group you want to belong to.

A story from the Red Bull X - Alps 2023