Media coverage of the adventure world could have us fooled that everyone other than ourselves is out on multi-week trips across the world all the time. For most of us, this cannot always be the case. Amidst the complexities of modern life, we may be lucky to find a mere weekend free to set out on wheels, on foot or perhaps out on the water. We can quickly find ourselves disenfranchised, paralysed by the jealousy of the perceived other, and in annoyance may not even use the time we have.
“A bad day on the hill is better than a good day in the office”.
A quote used in mountain biking all the time comes to mind: “A bad day on the hill is better than a good day in the office”. It is key that we remember this. Our “adventures” may not live up to the Instagrams of the great adventurers, but we can guarantee they will be better than sitting at a desk. So whatever time, space or kit you have got, we urge you to use it outside.
Reeling in our expectations for what our adventure should be, and engaging in what becoming more commonly known as a micro-adventure can keep us motivated and excited to explore the outdoors. Simultaneously it gives us a far better scope for keeping things eco, it eliminates flights and support vehicles and all the environmental costs associated with these huge adventures.
Recently, I found myself staying at my parents’ house whilst I was between houses. This forced me well away from the National Parks and big walls of rock I’m used to. Limited in time (and sadly, as many of us outdoor professionals are, out of money) my ability to engage in the natural world felt limited. I’m relatively lucky; my parents live in a small town in Wiltshire. It lacks steep ground for mountain biking and good rock for climbing.
However, I took a leaf from my own book and decided to get off my high horse of assuming no fun without mountains and planned a simple gravel ride. It’s always good to keep up with the navigation skills, so I binned off my navigation app and went old school with an OS map and compass. My mission was simple: find inspiration in this seemingly uninspiring flat grassy land of Wiltshire. I want to emphasise that I have been spoiled by mountains and travel for a long period, so I have developed a specific snobbery that I am working hard to remove.
Find inspiration in your local area
Since this is Climate Explorers, I wanted to try and visit a climate or environmental solution but this need not be huge either, simply passing through a solution can connect us with it and greater our understanding. A bit of research found an area being rewilded after years of monoculture. I identified it on the OS and planned a circular ride of about 40km trying to keep it mostly off-road. I set off along the canal that sits near my parents’ house.
Not immediately inspired. Be patient! Canal towpaths aren’t great to cycle on; loads of people walking; narrow paths; large pools of water on the other side. Not a recipe for a flowing ride. Again, be patient. As I get out of the town the path quiets, I even find myself alone. I take it in, a canal is man-made but I try and trick myself into believing it’s a river. My solace is interrupted, I’m joined by a kingfisher flying down the canal. The glint of verdant green zooming past me, precision focused on its specific fishy goal, in complete ignorance of my moaning about the lack of mountains. Ok maybe the patience is worthwhile, that’s pretty special.
Small pockets of land with large diversity
I veer off the canal path and reach woodland. Nice broadleaf, planted not naturally but nevertheless beautiful. I see squirrels, a range of birds and a winding single-track descent. Seat down, attack position drifting around tight woodland corners it almost feels like a purpose-built track.
Naturally, this is Wiltshire, the descent is short-lived. Seat back up and pedalling along a larger fire road to approach the rewilded plot. Even coming into the area I notice the biodiversity increases, the verges filled with a pallet of wildflowers and more bird songs than even I, with a masters in biology, could recognise.
It stuns me how these small pockets of land, carefully rewilded can increase the diversity in a large radius. I imagine what our green spaces could look like if we just left a per cent or two back for nature to take full hold of. I feel deeply immersed at this point.
It’s rare we find time for the moment but our natural world allows this in a way nothing else does (for me at least). I become viscerally aware of my mind becoming clearer. I’m at an odd stage of life at the moment – finished university and working out my place in the world. Where shall I move? What job do I do? Was the £45,000 debt worth it? (Hopefully). Contentedness is hard to find at an age where everything seems in constant flux. Here though on my beloved bike in this woodland, I found it.
I find a lease of energy. I leave the plot and hit some quality gravel tracks and go for it. Not sure which will give in first, the legs or lungs (or perhaps the tyres given how worn they are). As I push myself physically I reach a state in which my brain feels completely empty.
I slow it down and reach home, in time for a cooked dinner by a loving mother. I suppose going to live with your parents isn’t all bad.
The magic of Focusing on small
This is just a small example of a micro-adventure. What I find beautiful about it is the focus on the small. If I were stunned by mountains or a roaring glacial river would I have noticed a tiny kingfisher or listened as acutely to specifics of bird song? Because we tend to know our local areas we have to be creative to explore them in a new way, we have to focus on the small and hidden to continue to engage with a known environment. Keeping it small forces us to be unique. With grandeur comes logistics and planning, and with simplicity comes the possibility of the unknown within the known. I’m currently making a short film with a friend who is a woodworker and a climber. He’s using timber from fallen ash trees (sadly lost to ash dieback) which he’s turning into wooden climbing holds. He attaches the holds to the stumps of the dead ash making small climbs throughout his woodland.
I would argue this is within the scope of a micro-eco-adventure. He sticks close to home, connects with his surroundings and finds a new way of exploring. I’m fascinated as a filmmaker and naturalist about how people cross paths with nature and Climate Explorers and would love to hear about your micro-eco-adventures. I want to see a movement where people don’t go on adventures so they can flex their courage or expensive kit, but instead, go out for themselves and to widen their knowledge of our environment.
So here’s to the micro-adventure, often hidden from the world of social media, not boasted about at the pub, but essential for us to; connect; stay mindful and ultimately enjoy our green spaces.