The freedom of not knowing - where kindness becomes part of the map

Janne Dallmeier

Sunlit mountain range reflected in a calm lake, surrounded by forest in the foreground.

Written & photos taken by Ben Gundelwein

It all started with a mark in the calendar - an urge to take the bikes to a place unknown. Not knowing exactly where we will end up, what will happen along the way, and if it will happen in the first place. With the weather being unpleasant for some weeks, sickness creeping in, postponing the trip, this was the last shot in the calendar before life and work take over the calendar again. So here we go: We met up in the evening to plan the bikepacking trip. One doctor and one marketing guy, both into photography and some outdoor adventures here and there. Living in the heart of the Alps makes access to nature easy. The plan is to get out and explore what is south or north of us by bike. Crossing borders and exploring what nature has to offer between known cities and tourist spots. Instead of sitting at a table like normal people, we decide to jump onto the mountain bikes after work to discuss route, logistics, gear, time and random things that pop up when planning a trip like this. What to eat? Are we taking a camping cooker? Tent or no tent? Is it going to rain? What distance can we cover in one day?

We manage to ride our bikes up and down the local trails in one piece and end the evening by drinking a beer on the terrace and exchanging last bits and pieces of gear for the trip.

It all takes longer than expected. Packing a bike for a bikepacking trip is a serious game of Tetris. You think you will be fast, but it takes ages. Luckily, we have gear that is light and packs up tiny - a luxury for every outdoor enthusiast. After a good one and a half hours, the bike is ready to go. Checklist is complete, all the gear is somehow packed and strapped to the bike, and now there is only one last thing left: Planning the actual route. We decide to go north towards a lake and see where we end up. Weather forecast for tomorrow: 32 degrees and 11 hours of sunshine. So perfect weather, but also an aspect to consider when planning a bikepacking route, especially if one of us two ambitious guys has never been on a bikepacking trip before. We opt for three different routes, one which we can make in a day, one that is ambitious, and one that is extremely ambitious. Planning on deciding along the way. Will the body hold up? Will the bike hold up? Let's see.

We set our alarms and pre-load the (extremely ambitious) tour to our bike computer and go to bed to catch some sleep before the adventure begins. As it turns out, we both wake up once or twice during the night, full of excitement and curiosity, checking the time and looking forward to hitting the trails with our bikes.

Waking up, tweaking the setup, and fiddling with some final arrangements is the absolute standard. Coffee, breakfast and a final route check. With a surprise: the train we wanted to take to the start of our route is not in service today. Unexpected, but manageable. We meet up in front of a bike store to buy a backup spare inner tube and head towards the station to get a bus to the place we would like to start. It takes longer than we would have liked, but we get to our starting point and manage to ride into the remote area we want to cross. We cover a good amount of elevation, gradually through beautiful scenic places. We see other cyclists, hikers, horses, goats, lakes, lovely huts and massive mountains. We cross the border into Germany and fill up our water bottles after being drenched by the heat during the first part of the ride. Everything is feeling great, spirits are high, the views are amazing, good conversations and a lot of pedal strokes - exactly what we wanted.

We continue our ride and come to the first checkpoint of our route, where we need to decide: Do we continue with our route or cut it short to the lake we want to swim in eventually? The ambitious performance voice says clearly: continue with the extremely ambitious route, our exhausted brains cooked by too much sun scream: let's go to the lake and cool off. What do you think we went for? We adapt and head towards the lake. We begin to crave some food and push the last kilometres until we reach the lake. Being surrounded by absolutely stunning blue water, people swimming and enjoying the sun, we know we made the right choice. Personal bests, high pace rides all have their place, but today is about exploring and riding where we feel like riding. We find a nice restaurant bistro next to the lake and refuel. Ready for a dip, we ride along the lake until we reach the end and find a little spot to go for a swim. Here, the Sea to Summit Airlite Towel and Drybag come in pretty handy. Protecting our cameras from water and dirt, and a surprisingly small and light towel that soaks up way more water than you would ever believe. We enjoy the swim, dry ourselves off and strap our wet things onto our bikes to continue our ride.

The ride to the lake was already more than we wished for, but all of that got topped by what was to come. The next stretch of the ride was an absolute highlight, riding next to a little riverbed, perfect temperature and smooth gravel roads. We decide to push our ride longer than we actually intended after our swim, and even spontaneously go for an extension. The previous lunch and the cooling temperatures fuel this decision, and it turns out to be the right one. Again, we simply take things step by step, see how we feel and where we could head next from where we are when we regroup to discuss our ride. Not knowing where to end up, not having a fixed destination or sleeping spot, can be highly freeing and is a feeling we do not seem to have often these days. Everything is planned, scheduled, productive, ideally with guaranteed outcomes. So to have the luxury of having time to go on travels or adventures and just exposing yourself to what could come is pure freedom in today's world. This should be proven by the events that follow in the evening.

We push on, riding our bikes up more hills, aiming to ride into another valley, which could potentially have some nice sleeping spots for the night. The sun begins to set, and we pass some more little lakes. We are blown away by the sheer beauty of the sunset and just enjoy the views for a good amount of time, being grateful to experience this. By now, it is shortly past 8 in the evening, and we are still riding, cruising up and down little hills and into the valley we wanted to sleep in. At some point, we realise we should get some dinner before we head to our sleeping spot and search for some restaurants in the region. Nearly all of them close at 9, a close call, but we can make it if we are quick. We ride to the restaurant of our choice, the light is on, and people are sitting and drinking. Time for a well-deserved dinner and beer, we think. Finding out that the kitchen is already closed cut all our euphoria. We ask the lady working at the restaurant which places are still open and which restaurant she would recommend - her answer: a loud laugh. Everything should be closed by now.

This could be bad. We are hungry, and especially after the extension of our ride, we are craving some food before settling down to sleep somewhere. We head to a different restaurant, same situation, people sitting, eating and drinking -  worth a shot. We ask if the kitchen is still open to feed two hungry cyclists. The elderly woman thinks for a second (knowing the kitchen is about to close) and smiles - if we order straight away, she will make it work. A friendly gesture and help that saved our evening. Not only is this restaurant way nicer than the other one, it also serves amazing local food to refuel our tired bodies. We chat with the owners, and have a really nice meal until we realise they only accept cash. With 20 Euros of emergency cash in the phone case, and not having a wallet (or physical credit cards) with us there is no chance of getting cash that late at the nearby ATMs. It is at that moment that a woman next to us approaches us with "it seems like you need money". Another helping hand, unexpected and so rare in today's world where everyone mainly looks out for themselves. We transfer the woman the remaining amount of our meal and are able to pay for our dinner with a generous tip to thank the lady who saved us from ending the day hungry. We pack our stuff and start the last mission of our day: finding a sleeping spot.

It is dark. We decide to ride back to one of the lakes. The challenge is to find a suitable sleeping spot, which is even and not too exposed to paths and the public, but also pleasant and ideally somewhat scenic. Our backup option is to simply head into the forest and find a cozy spot between trees. We arrive at the lake and wander around with our headlamps, trying to find a suitable sleeping spot. The grass surrounding the lake is already entirely wet, ...not ideal. We find a spot, but it is at that moment we realise there is a hut right behind us, only about 30 meters from the shore of the lake. There is a man and a woman sitting behind the open window of that hut, looking at the lake and the bright moon above it. They seem to spot us and we hear: "Are you looking for a sleeping spot??". We are a bit rattled; typically, this question leads to an unpleasant conversation and being sent away. We answer politely and get into a conversation with the owner of the hut and quickly find out that we are experiencing something rare, another unexpected helping hand and a beautiful interaction with a person whilst being exposed to the uncertainty of travelling. Bernhard (the owner of the hut) tells us how he travelled to Australia and Canada and how people welcomed him with warm hearts and hospitality. He goes on raging about tourism and how so many people do not respect nature and the local places, driving their camping buses onto the lawn right next to the lake, making fire and then being impolite to the locals. He says we seem to be pretty ok and invites us to sleep right in front of his hut.

We are blown away by this gesture; this is highly unusual and a jackpot in terms of our bivy spot. We are unsure if he actually means his invitation seriously, but Bernhard insists. He says they are leaving anyway and that the little concrete platform in front of the house is the only dry spot to sleep in a radius of 5km around the lake. We have no doubts about that and are so grateful for the interaction and this highly unusual situation. After another 20 minutes of travel talk and more local stories, we find ourselves completely alone at this wonderful lake, which we can now call our sleeping spot for the night. It is stunning. Everything you would ever wish for a night under the stars. Warm, no wind, a flat and dry ground to sleep on, an amazing view of the lake, the surrounding mountains and a full moon that is nearly as bright as the sun. All of this combined with amazing outdoor gear that is comfortable, warm and incredibly well designed. Especially the Sea to Summit pillow has become a game-changer in nearly every overnight outdoor mission. Small, durable and light. Using clothes or backpacks for decades as a pillow, this is definitely the upgrade you thought you never needed, but turns out to make the night. We notice some noise and realise, on the other side of the lake, there is a party in full swing. We have the pleasure of listening to some hits whilst looking at the sky from our sleeping mats. All of a sudden, there is a bright line in the sky - a shooting star! "Am I already dreaming?" I think as I begin to doze off and start to fall asleep. Time for some well-deserved rest. 

We wake up to the same incredible view. Everything seems so calm. It is still early. We slept well, at least as well as you can sleep on the first night outside in an unknown spot. The first people are already coming to the lake, going for a swim, reading books, or having a chat. A wonderful atmosphere. It is time for a morning dip! What a wonderful refreshment and way to start the day. A woman approaches us and asks if we had a good night. We end up in a small morning chat and enjoy some sunshine after our swim. We start to pack up all our gear and begin a new game of bikepacking tetris - mounting all of your things to a bike will always be a challenge to test your creativity. An old man approaches the hut and opens the door at the back. He also asks us if we had a good night's sleep. As it turns out, the man is Bernhard's uncle - an 81-year-old man who is mentally and physically fitter than most 70-year-olds. We had a wonderful chat with him. It is always a huge inspiration to see old people who are still outdoors, keeping fit and staying positive. We ask him how often he is here, and he says he rides his bike here nearly every day and goes for a swim. He recommends a coffee nearby, and we head off for some breakfast. We have an amazing breakfast and plan the route for the day. Curious about which routes we will ride and what we will expect, as we set out into the bright sun. Happy. Fulfilled. And slightly sore. Ready for the day.