And then we finally found it: a fast flowing river, trails winding over rolling hills, snow capped mountains in the distance and a gorgeous historic town – finally a place we could imagine calling home.

Under the giant S, scrambling and rock hopping the hills were giving me flashbacks from the opening credits of MASH, brains like to spit out the most incongruous comparisons don’t they? Dylan ran, whilst I watched blue birds cavort in the evergreen trees. Later lying in the sun we felt so lucky to right here, right now, carefree and doing what we wanted me taking photos, Dylan living his dream a trail marathon race against some of the world’s best the next morning. I picked up a bright hand knitted and a secondhand cashmere scarf in psychedelic colours from a thrift shop. Then as setting sun bounced of the rapids we made a rafter self conscious watching his every move from the rocky river bank.

An early night, a race in the morning…