Feeling stuck at my desk, I was craving some adventure – or more specifically, a microadventure.
A microadventure is a short, evening-time escapade which involves leaving work, exploring somewhere nearby, sleeping outside (ideally wild camping) and then heading back to work.
The concept comes from Alastair Humphreys who believes that this method of adventuring is accessible even to those with work and family commitments. He says that microadventures are ‘close to home, affordable and easy to organise.’
I don’t have any sprogs, but I certainly have a 9-5:30 job, so I thought I’d give it a go.
Location: Liverpool Street to Chingford to Epping Forest Transport: Overground, bike When: Thursday 16th August 2018 Patch for the night: Debden House
Planning
A little online research reveals some lovely green spaces – I choose Epping Forest because it sounds distant and exciting. Images of sky-high bushy trees and gritty trails tease my imagination.
Booking my train tickets, I realise that Chingford, my destination, is actually in Zone 5. I can just get the Overground from Liverpool Street – it takes less than half an hour. Even better.
Unfortunately, I did have to reel in my enthusiasm and make this more of a 'microadventure lite'. As I’m on my own, it’s my first microadventure and wild camping isn’t technically legal in England, I opt to spend the night at a campsite.
And yes, there was a month-long heatwave where it’d would’ve been favourable – nay, glorious – to sleep outside in a bivvy bag. It would’ve beaten wrestling with a duvet that, though too hot, bed wouldn’t be bed without.
However, even a little organisation proves too much for me, and after much a-delay about nothing, I end up going during the late-summer drizzly period.
Doing the trip on a Thursday makes sense to me: the office mood is lighter on a Friday, you can work harder in the week to give yourself an easy day and we have an early finish to kick off the weekend anyway.
I had to go to work on my birthday, so I thought this would be a more memorable way to see it in.
Setting off
I’ll warn you now that the window between finishing work and starting the microadventure is tough. Laziness and uncertainty can easily coax you into leaving your desk and heading straight home.
It was even more challenging on this particular day. Even though I’d checked the weather the week before and the forecast said that it was sunny with highs of 25 Celsius, torrential rain pummelled the pavement on the day. If it weren’t for the fact that I had arranged to go and collect my bivvy bag, I might have changed my mind.
So, I weave through the crowds at Charing Cross Station to meet my dame in shiny yellow trousers. We'd organised the exchange through a mutual Facebook group. I pick up the bag, go back to Liverpool Street and jump on the 7:33pm train. The feeling of excitement flutters through my body once again.
The journey to the campsite is smooth in terms of complications, but not in terms of bumps. Google Maps takes me through a couple of fields which me and my hybrid bike, with its slim tyres and lack of suspension, don’t like.
The forest itself is stunning, an archway of lush greenery that looks ever-more dramatic as the sun sets. The only noise around is my tyres scraping across the trail; a glimpse of a wispy squirrel’s tail the sole sign of life. It's utterly blissful.
Camping out
I arrive at the campsite after dark and wearily wheel over to my pitch. I’m given a wristband as a reminder that I’m safe, but restricted.
The surrounding fleet of campervans made me feel self-conscious, not only because I was alone and in a bag, but because I felt like I was loitering. Although, when you’re holding a can of Strongbow Dark Fruits, it’s impossible not feel like you're loitering.
What saddened me is that you don’t get the ‘real’ experience of peace and seclusion that I imagine you’d get from proper wild camping. The problems caused by unexpected stirring around you when you’re alone in the forest were flipped around. The problem here was the disturbance from too many people. Having them around made me feel more lonely as I felt very much out of place.
Most of the bulk in my baggage was from clothing. As well as my cycling kit of a t-shirt, hi-vis jacket and three-quarter length bottoms, I put on a thermal top, thermal bottoms, fleecy top, fleecy bottoms, a ski jacket, thick woollen socks, a buff and a beanie.
My panniers become my pillow, my head a guard for my valuables.
I’m still cold overnight – not shivering cold, but chilly. Despite not raining, my bivvy bag gets soaked with the dewy night time air and I wake up with a condensation-like dampness on my face which I find refreshing. It's like I've just run a face wipe over my skin.
Returning to work
I had to be back at Liverpool Street before 7:30am to avoid the rush hour traffic with my bike. Waking up with the sun after three and a half hours of sleep, I leave the campsite at 5:45am, fully layered-up.
There I am, a roll of loft insulation foam, riding up a hill. I soon warm up, ditching thermals as I go. Like the sun set before it, the sun rise is strikingly beautiful.
When I arrive at Liverpool Street station, there's time to spare. I head over to a teeny cafe for a coffee paired with a dense and delicious slab of coconut bread.
For someone who's had so little sleep, I'm in surprisingly good condition when I get to the office. Well, at least until the last hour when I have to eat to stop myself from snoozing at my desk.
Would I do it again?
You know what? I definitely would.
There are things I would do differently though. Firstly, I would go somewhere I could wild camp properly, like Scotland, so that I could just plonk myself down in the middle of nowhere.
I would go with one or two other people as well. Being on your own in the woodlands sounds spectacular, but I think the stars, the chilled cider and the experience would be best shared with loved ones.
Tips and ideas for your first microadventure
To kick-off your microadventure, choose an activity. It doesn't have to be cycling – you could walk, do some outdoor swimming, climb trees or spend the evening drawing. If you’re feeling uneasy about your first night outdoors, you could even take your bivvy bag into the back garden and watch the stars.
Wild camping is legal in Scotland, except Loch Lomond, as well as Sweden, Norway, Ireland, Estonia, Latvia, New Zealand and in certain parts of Canada and Australia (with a permit). In England and Wales it's a hell-no. Most land is privately-owned so either avoid it like I did or ask the landowner’s permission.
As with any nature-based activity, leave your spot as you found it and be respectful of the local critters – human and non-human.
Organise it for the night before a more relaxed day at work as you probably won’t have the best kip. My mood was elevated because it was my birthday and seeing lovely messages coming in throughout the day kept me chirpy. Finishing half an hour early on a Friday helps too, having the weekend to catch up on sleep.
Be aware that after a day at work your motivation might dip. Push through it! This is another reason to book things in advance. It’ll be harder to say no when you’ve already made arrangements and you (or someone else) might lose time or cash.
Pack light – you can keep it minimal on the kit. If you overdo anything, it should be layers. Prioritise a hat, a scarf or a buff, gloves, a thick jacket and thermals. Make use of lockers, desk drawers and space under your desk if you need to swap some stuff over before you head out for the night.
For more info on bivvy bags, mats and lighting campfires, take a look at Alastair Humphreys’ website.
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