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Dark storm clouds are building up on my weather app. They flicker across the screen with a sneer, as if they're trying to give us the middle finger. It's like a spell! Dimitri, Andi and I have been wanting to set off for the summit overnight stay for days - our first micro-adventure. But parents' evening, a birthday party or too much work keep us from going. Or the weather doesn't play ball - there's always something! It's the same again this time. We are far too late. And last but not least, our mate Andi wants to jump off. It's not as easy as outdoor magazines advertise so-called micro-adventures. And yes, sometimes it's not the hard facts that speak against adventures in the great outdoors, but simply your own laziness.
But what exactly is an adventure? Survival expert Rüdiger Nehberg describes it as follows: "An adventure is an experience that you organise yourself and that has not already been tried and tested by others." In other words: leaving the comfort zone. By this, however, Nehberg meant real adventure. So walking alone for three months through the rainforest along the Amazon. Or crossing the Atlantic in a pedalo (he really did it!). What we have in mind has nothing to do with that. We want to go on a MIKRO adventure. To escape the daily grind for a few hours. Out of the stink of the big city - but without putting our lives at risk.
British globetrotter Alistair Humphreys has coined the buzzword "micro-adventure" and written a book about it. He describes it as a "light" version of adventure for everyone.
It starts with an overnight stay in a tent in the garden, a long bike tour or an overnight stay on a summit - Alistair Humphreys, globetrotter
We intend to do the latter. And because we are stingy when it comes to our holidays, we take the word "micro" particularly seriously. Our motto: up to the summit in the evening, down early in the morning and then back to the office.
Micro adventures save holiday days
We make it to the mountains just before the evening rush hour. When we arrive at the agreed car park, our friend Andi is already waiting. He has decided to spend the night on the summit after all. We get out of the car and look up at the sky in synchronisation. Are the storm clouds coming? Or will they pass us by? The weather app gives the thunderstorm a 70 per cent chance. We hope for the other 30, because there is no sheltering hut on the way to the summit or nearby during our micro-adventure.
We strap on our rucksacks. In it: wine, bread, sausage and sleeping bag. Not long before we have to push our bikes up the trail. Mountain enthusiasts like Harald Philipp have dubbed this type of biking "bike mountaineering". I call it bike pushing. That's fine by me, because riding up the mountain is more of a chore than a pleasure for me anyway. I'm all about the descent. My two friends Andi and Dimitri see it differently and try to balance their bikes uphill over the rocky outcrops and root carpets, pedalling hard until they come off panting. The trail becomes too steep and rocky, the rucksack too heavy on their backs.
The sky is rumbling, the wind is blowing over the fir trees and the first drops of rain are already drumming on the plastic of our helmets. While I try to stretch my rain cover over my bulging rucksack, Andi and Dimitri are already rolling an early summit cigarette under a tree. I squat down next to them. "What's the right thing to do in a thunderstorm?"Dimitri asks the group. "Waiting under tall trees, surely not," counters Andi. We don't know, remain silent, lean our heads back and squint at the sky. It hums, thunders and ripples for a while longer until the wind has finally driven the clouds away. It's getting late. We strap our rucksacks onto our backs and push our bikes towards the summit. A gentle wind blows in our faces. On the horizon, the milky sun is already slowly disappearing behind the Karwendel. We shoulder the bikes for the last hour. Hiking instead of biking.
Microadventure is: Everyday thoughts fall silent
At the summit When we finally reach the top, the wind whips us in the face. "I've only experienced wind this warm in Brazil," says Dimitri, trying to counter the roar. "WHAT?" shouts Andi. We don't understand our own words. And spend the night here? The summit is just enough for three reasonably comfortable places to sleep. We sit down to eat on the slope in the lee. It's bearable here. Beer, bread, sausage, olives. "There's hardly anywhere else where a snack tastes better," says Andi. Dimitri and I nod and look into the distance, where the upper Isar creeps out of the mountains in the hazy light. I puff on my home-made cigarette, sip red wine and listen to my friends' stories. These are the moments I love so much about such activities. When the soup of thoughts of everyday life falls silent. The deadline for VAT is suddenly far away. The to-do list for tomorrow? Zero relevance. Living in the here and now. It may sound hackneyed, but that's how it is on the mountain. If you don't believe it, you should try it for yourself.
I continue to listen to my friends talk. How Andi wanted to climb the second highest mountain in South America, but got altitude sickness and had to stagger back to base camp in a daze. Or how Dimitri and Andi set off on a mountain tour in Hawaii in glorious weather wearing just a T-shirt and a hut sleeping bag and then spent the night standing under a well roof in the rain at eight degrees centigrade. "You specialists," I say sarcastically and promptly get a retort with an anecdote from our last trip together: I only realised at the summit that I had forgotten my sleeping bag in the car four hours' walk away. We giggle and continue sipping red wine until the bottle is empty. It's tapping time! Tired, we break free from our cover and crawl into our sleeping bags with the wind roaring. The wind continues to tug at the nylon of our outdoor beds until the early hours of the morning, leaving us barely able to sleep.
"You can hardly feel more alive on a Wednesday morning"
In the morning, we roll up our insulating mats, put on our knee pads and put on our helmets. I ride ahead. Dimitri and Andi follow. Even the first few metres from the summit are tough. We manoeuvre our bikes through tight hairpin bends. To call the descent flowy would not only be an exaggeration, but a flat-out lie. Stumbling biking is more like it. However, with a lot of skill, the trail allows for some flow. Not everyone likes trails like this. But that's the way it is with adventures. With or without a "micro". You never know what's coming. Either a great trail or a rubbish trail. Or a rubbish trail that's still great because the birds are chirping so beautifully and we're feeling chirpy here on the mountain. In our case, it's more the latter - we like the overall package. Chamois cross our path, fresh mountain air floods our lungs and dense mountain pines rub against our knuckles - it's hard to feel more alive on a Wednesday morning.
I'm not paying attention for a moment and my front wheel gets caught in a root lying across the road and I have to put my foot down. Dimitri is behind me and has seen it. I quickly clear the key section and let my mate try his luck. He turns in, skilfully swings the rear over the root, masters the spot and rolls on without putting his foot down. I join in at the back and we steer our bikes over steep steps and look forward to passages where we can release the brakes a little. My senses are focussed on the narrow trail in front of me - I completely ignore the ravine just a few centimetres away. If one of my friends makes a mistake at the front, it's greeted with malicious jeers and we have to join the back of the queue - assuming we can manage it ourselves. But we're not just being spiteful. Of course, anyone who manages a tricky passage also receives praise.
After an hour's drive, we arrive at the bottom. High-five clapping echoes through the morning air. The adventure coins are ringing in the adventure till. Despite the initial resistance, we have completed our micro-adventure. The clock shows 7.30 am. And while the people in Munich are only just peeling themselves out of bed with crumpled faces, our adventure batteries will be glowing green for the rest of the day.
What (micro)adventurers need to know
Germany's jungle of prohibitions: what hobby adventurers are allowed to do and what they should rather not do. Three facts you need to know before embarking on a (micro) adventure.
Tents
Wild camping is prohibited in Germany. Exception: You must get the go-ahead from the landowner on whose land the tent is to be pitched. If, on the other hand, you spend the night somewhere in the open air in a bivouac or sleeping bag, this still falls under the right of access. But beware: protected areas are taboo - there is a risk of severe fines. By the way: In an emergency, anything that averts danger is permitted. Keyword: emergency bivouac.
Light a fire
Lighting fires is not covered by the right of access and is therefore prohibited. Foresters are merciless, especially in areas at risk of forest fires. Therefore, you may only use officially authorised fireplaces or require permission from the landowner. But even then, forestry officials can issue a ban if there is an increased risk of fire.
Right of way
Each federal state has its own right of way. In Baden-Württemberg, for example, there is the 2-metre rule. It prohibits riding on paths less than two metres wide. In Bavaria, the biker-friendly right of way has recently been interpreted more strictly. Nevertheless, if trails are prohibited, they must be signposted. A long-distance hiking trail does not have to be used exclusively for hiking; biking is also permitted in most cases.
Parts for the microadventure
You need the right tools to ensure your microadventure doesn't turn into a fiasco. Six product suggestions for a successful venture.
Transport specialist: the rucksack
A normal day rucksack is unsuitable for the micro-adventure - but the rucksack shouldn't be too big either. For us, the Deuter Trans Alpine 30 Proven. Plenty of storage options with maximum comfort. Price: 150 euros.
Small but warm: the sleeping bag
It can also get chilly on the summit in summer. We recommend the Vaude Meglis 300 synthetic fibre sleeping bag, for example, which has a small pack size, low weight and keeps you warm enough with a comfort temperature range of 9 degrees Celsius. Good value! Price: 150 Euro >> e.g. available at Bergfreunde.
Cut-up: the survival knife
Ideally, you should cut with the Gerber signature model from survival expert Bear Grylls just open the sausage and impress your mates. If everything goes wrong, you can also start an emergency fire with the Bear Grylls Ultimate Knife's integrated flint. Price: 100 euros.
Knee sock: the protector
Knees never heal! That's why knee pads are part of the basic equipment. Lightweight protectors, such as the Ion K Sleeve Amp, achieved surprisingly good results in past impact tests. A good side effect: the small pack size. Price: 99 euros.
Safety first: the first aid kit
The First Aid Kit S from Vaude has everything you need for first aid. For example, abrasions can be disinfected and bandaged. Small, compact and lightweight, it fits in any rucksack. Price: 20 Euro >> at Mountain friends or Mountain time available.
Camouflage light: the headlamp
Without light, you have to rely on the twinkling of the stars on the mountain. To avoid having to rummage almost blindly in your rucksack, we recommend a robust, rechargeable head torch. For example the Tikka Core from Petzl. It shines with up to 450 lumens and also has a red camouflage light to remain as undetected as possible. The lamp can be recharged via mini USB. Price: 60 euros.
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Laurin Lehner
Editor
