We haven't even passed the town sign yet when my pulse is already pounding in my toes. I pulled down the zip of my thick winter jacket a few metres ago, or rather ripped it open. Otherwise I would collapse.
No chance of a cosy winter bivouac with my son. Shortly after the start, expectations are already 0:1 behind reality. Oskar rides in front. It's amazing how easily the 15-year-old pedals his fatbike up the snowy hill! Shaking my head, I look behind. We have just left the Schillerwiesen, a popular park for family outings. How many times have we been to this park? This is where Oskar and his brother Moritz rode their first downhills on their bikes. This is where they dammed the stream in the best beaver style and celebrated countless children's birthday parties. The Schillerwiesen are about 50 metres above our house. It was ten years ago when we first "rode up" here with the children's MTBs. The boys stopped several times to recover from the climb. When we arrived at the finish, I bought some fizzy drinks at the kiosk. A big mistake for the family budget, from today's perspective. Since then, the drinks stop has become a ritualised part of every bike tour. Over the years, I have certainly sunk the equivalent of a titanium frame in the local beer gardens.
The reward for this: I pant after my son. 65 kilograms of lean muscle mass in a pubertal testosterone shot chase uphill towards the Bismarck Tower. I almost feel sorry for the massive Nicolai frame. Will it be able to cope with the strain? It certainly will! But what about me? The days when I playfully slowed down so as not to spoil the boys' fun are over. Now it's time to get down to business. And that means me.
Our plan for this January weekend is a winter overnighter. We want to cycle through the home territory of the Göttingen mountain bikers, the Hainholz, towards Eichsfeld and find a cosy spot for our sleeping bags. The weather forecast promises that the snowfall will subside by the middle of the night. The temperature will drop to minus 13 degrees, which gives us hope for a cloudless sunrise the next morning. If it wasn't for the lactate in my legs, all would be right with the world. By skilfully choosing my lines, I try to convert every one of my meagre watts of pedalling energy into propulsion.
We turn left. We cross an almost four-metre-long viaduct to the other side of a ditch. The stone path at a height of three metres is barely 40 centimetres wide and the approach bends slightly to the right. If you drive too fast, the centrifugal forces will push you off the viaduct. If you go too slowly, the rear wheel threatens to sink into the depths on the inside of the bend. It's quite tricky to manoeuvre the fully loaded fatbike into the ideal lane. I have no idea whether the snow on the viaduct is grippy or just the icing sugar camouflage over dangerous ice. Now fear is taking over inside me. My pulse races and the fatbike pushes towards the abyss. Safety stop or full risk? I have maybe half a metre left to decide. A good opportunity to straighten out the hierarchy with my pupil! I know that Oskar will flinch here, and I've already driven over it many times. But hey, what barrel am I opening here? I'm more competitive than the squad athletes in the standardised competition! And anyway, what role model function do I actually have here as a father? To fuel competition and thrills, or to celebrate responsible and enjoyable after-work adventures? Caught out! I gently pull the rear brake, put one foot down and turn round to Oskar peacefully: "I'd better check the snow. Can you hold my bike?" With a spirited kick, I check the traction on the stones. Top! We back up and ride carefully over them. Oskar in front, I follow anxiously behind. Luckily he doesn't have a rear-view mirror!
On the following climb to the Kehr, Göttingen's pedestrian car park with a popular beer garden, I have to think of Moritz. Oskar's younger brother has stayed at home. Not because he doesn't enjoy adventures, but since a September weekend in 2013, he prefers to stick to summer tours. Back then, we had set up camp above the Leinetal valley. Campfire, sausages, sunset. Even at the morning fire with cocoa, everything was still fine. As we set off for home and quickly lost altitude, we drove straight into the cold morning mist that had turned the valley into a freezer. I still don't know how I managed to rub four children's hands warm at the same time. It's deeply engraved in the family's collective memory and really spoilt the youngest's overnighter. Not a great moment of fatherly hobby mediation.
I look up and in a flash I'm back in my memories: Oskar is gone. The trail meanders towards Kerstlingeröder Feld, a former military training area that is now a nature reserve and local recreation area. Suddenly his apple-green jacket reappears between the bare trees two turns further up. Once again, he has to close the gap. But frustration gives way to pride: you have children for the very reason that you first raise them and then can no longer hold a candle to them. "Hashtag father pride" is what I call this feeling from now on. 45 minutes later, we reach the supermarket in Klein Lengden and shop to our hearts' content: Sausages, steaks, tinned soup, cola, crisps, chocolate and cocoa. I treat myself to two cans of beer. The last paternal privilege. But I'm sure his time will soon be numbered.
We continue through the Gartetal valley. After 200 metres of hard climbing, we finally reach a clearing that is ideally positioned for the sun. Now comes the trickiest part of the winter bivouac. You cool down super quickly in the camp from the strain. We change our underwear, dry off in no time at all and put on several layers of cosy, warm clothing. When it comes to making a fire, we are well-rehearsed, even if it is a little more challenging than in summer bivouacs: the wood is covered in snow and damp.
I skilfully goad Oskar's exuberant energy: "I don't think the wood will chop well today!" Zack: the teenager drives himself through the frozen wood like a splitting machine incarnate. Fifteen minutes later, I can choose from a repertoire of logs of different thicknesses and quickly light the fire. The flames quickly rise. We fold up a camping mat and sit down. Oskar leans against me. I take him in my arms. He literally buries himself in me. There he is again, the little son from the Schillerwiesen. A few tears of emotion gather in the corners of my eyes. In emotional exuberance, I offer Oskar a sip of beer: "Let it go, Vattahhh."
INFO WINTER BIVOUAC
The precinct
Göttingen nestles picturesquely in the Leine valley. To the west, the Weserbergland offers marvellous trails. The Solling is not far to the north-west. Around the south-east, the Eichsfeld region beckons with tough climbs and the famous Stracke sausage. North-eastwards, you can cycle straight towards the Harz Mountains. It is 85 kilometres to the summit of the Brocken. Göttingen is located directly on the A7 motorway and has an ICE train stop.
Micro-adventure
One micro-adventure a month - Gunnar Fehlau regularly sets off on short overnighters, i.e. tours with overnight stays outdoors, according to this motto. The type of bike varies depending on the season and the riders. It is usually a robust plus bike. An evening campfire is always the highlight of the tours. But be careful: always use an official fireplace. If there is a risk of forest fire, making a fire is absolutely taboo!
The tour
Gunnar Fehlau and his son Oskar had a few ideas about where they could spend the night, but then spontaneously decided where to roll out their sleeping bags. In different weather conditions, or at a warmer time of year, they would do the tour a little differently. From Göttingen, the route went to Klein Lengden, then crossed the Gartetal valley. The tour continued over the Kapellenberg and finally onto the Knüll ridge. That sounds alpine, but the metres in altitude are manageable. There was a bivouac spot near the Knüll ridge with a guaranteed clear view of the sunrise. The next morning, we headed downhill in a southerly direction and then westwards from Allerberg over the ridge to Diemarden and finally back to Göttingen through the Gartetal valley. Total distance: 35 km and 800 metres in altitude.
Equipment
Winter bivouacs are material-intensive. Warm bike clothing, thermal shoes, maybe even a fat bike - everything has to withstand the snow and cold. The equipment is stowed in special bikepacking bags, for example from Ortlieb or Revelate. In most cases, a light, warm down sleeping bag will suffice even in the bitter cold if you combine it with a bivouac sack (US Army). Add to this a sleeping mat (e.g. from Therm-A-Rest), tarp, barbecue equipment, gas cooker and clothing as required: jackets, trousers, balaclava, underwear, gloves.
Bikepacking with children
Don't worry: kids love cycling and exploring just as much as campfires and grilling sausages. All of this fits into a micro-adventure with the rating "educationally valuable". Put yourself in the children's shoes during the preparation and realisation. Small distances and exciting breaks ensure stable motivation. Very important: don't force the children to do anything!
Internet
More tips from Gunnar Fehlau on bikepacking equipment: www.bike-magazin.de / Webcode #28501
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