Our map shows a 4x4 descent all the way down, but we spot another small singletrack that, for want of a better term, takes a short cut down the mountainside. It's not a difficult choice for any of us and we opt for the latter, dropping into the foot-wide trail with a twinkle in our eyes. The descent has its moments, testing rider's mental resolve and courage as much as technical skills, but we're enjoying the challenge. As the gradient eases off the trail becomes a swooping, fast drop through pastures: classic Alps riding if you look outside the bike parks. Some damp rooty drops through woodland keeps us on our toes and make for some entertainment of the ''will he crash or wont he?'' variety, and then we find ourselves on the riverside trail that feeds back to Morzine's centre. It's a blast as we big-ring it the last few kilometres back to town, head to head racing, hanging on for dear life around the wet, leafy bends. And then we're there, rolling into Morzine in the mid afternoon sun, we're grinning insanely and frightening the few locals with the cackling laughs that we can't help but emit at the thought of what we just went and did. But inside we're all a little sad too, sad that it's over, sad that we won't be riding the Portes du Soleil until next year when the lifts re-open. Lifts, schmifts. We'll never look at the Portes du Soleil the same way again.