This post has been written for and published by Protect Our Winters Germany in German. If you’d like to join the conversation or even better, join us as a member or volunteer, please head on over to the website or social media channels!
“Why do you make things so hard for yourself? Don’t you already have enough to do? Enough stress? Why push yourself even more in your free time when you could be relaxing at home?” I ask myself.
Here’s the plan: 500 km by bike across the Alps, from Munich to Lake Garda – with my 16-month-old daughter Nea in tow, snug in her bike trailer. Sweating, coughing, crying, cursing the rain. Waking up early, going to bed late, and arriving at our destination, Arco (Italy), at Lake Garda utterly exhausted. “Is this really the break I’ve been longing for from my regular exhausting life?”
After all, it would’ve been much easier to hop on the next budget flight to Milan, leisurely drive a rental car to Arco, and then spend my time sipping Lemonsoda. But, alongside Ana Zirner – my partner in adventure and “Wildly Over the Top But Pretty Epic” trips – and her 2-year-old daughter Ada in her own respective bike trailer, I made a different choice. For good reasons.
It all started five years ago. Back then (as now), I had a simple bike and (unlike today) no bikepacking skills. But I didn’t care at the time, when I spontaneously decided to ride my bike from Berlin, Germany to the North Cape, Norway. That was my first encounter with sustainability and when the realization hit that your bike gently forces you to take care of yourself in a sustainable way. When your body is the only engine, you quickly learn the importance of taking care of it. Breaks aren’t optional; they’re necessary. And on my trip to Arco, I had to relearn that lesson on day three: after two days of relentless rain, my body said, “No more.” Fever. Rest day.
That extra night in Patsch, Austria not only got my fever under control, but also reminded me that it’s okay to stop sometimes. To switch gears. Because pushing on isn’t always a sign of perseverance—sometimes it’s just plain stubbornness (and a little dumb). Without Ana, this trip would’ve ended right there on day three. Heroically, she took charge, hauling both kids up the mountain to our next stop. By the time we arrived, I was completely done for a whole 24 hours. That’s another thing these kinds of tough journeys teach you quickly: it’s okay to ask for and accept help.
So why make things harder than they need to be? Because you learn life’s lessons best when you feel them in your every muscle: the journey is the destination.
Cycling means experiencing real distances – and feeling that, with your body and soul. You know exactly what it takes to cover a long stretch of land. And with a bike, it all happens at the perfect speed. You’re still making progress, but you’re also aware of every meter, get to see how people and cultures change. On the train, I would never have noticed how people just across the Austrian-Italian border naturally brought children’s cutlery to our table. If I had tied my shoelaces at the wrong time on the train, I would have missed the Reschen Pass entirely. On the plane, I might have spotted the Ortler if I knew where to look, but I would never have seen Ana’s tears when she told me about her love for that mountain.
So why choose the hard way when the easy one’s right there in your reach?
I choose the hard way because I love to learn—especially from mistakes and bad ideas that end up great somehow. Because one day I cycled alone to the North Cape, and since then I’ve needed to go further. Because moving means being in your body, feeling exactly how you are and who you are. Taking the hard way allows me to experience that I’m still myself, even now when I’m also my daughter’s parent. Sure, I had plenty of doubts before setting off—prejudices, warnings, fears. It’s not easy to live as you are in our society, even when you follow the rules. Life is always a shade of hard. So why not choose the supposedly hard and adventurous path that in the end, fits you better anyways?
One thing I definitely relearned on this trip: the physical effort and the adventure that come with bikepacking mean freedom to me.
And so this trip became a form of protest.
Cycling is the almost perfect democratic mode of transportation – financially accessible for nearly everyone, no matter their class, income, gender, or background. You don’t need a fancy racing bike or an e-bike, nor do you need aerodynamic gear to move forwards. Whatever wheels you ride forward into the unknown on, you’re part of the same cycling community. Bikers be biking, and nothing connects us quite like a shared tire repair struggle. We need each other when the chain slips and we’re stuck. When the water runs out and we’re thirsty. We need each other to keep going. That’s how we learn to trust each other—on the road, on the bike, and in life in general.
We need each other, especially in these times as our world is changing. You see the change when the river alongside your route runs dry, you feel it when the heat forces you to stop for hours. We didn’t choose to live like this, but we keep on going as if everything’s fine: too fast, too hectic, and we spend our days looking for quick fixes that bring momentary relief but don’t solve the root of the problem. Yes, we don’t have enough vacation days—but is flying really the answer?
The way we live now isn’t sustainable – for the environment, for the climate, or for ourselves. We may feel free, but we’re addicted to convenience, because we are exhausted. Don’t we all want a way out?
Baby, bikepacking over the Alps to Arco might not sound relaxing or easy at first—but the freedom these adventures bring don’t just make the journey easier. It lightens the load of squishing your life back into the hamster whee afterwards, too. And maybe it even gives you the strength to ask: what can we change to live more sustainably?
That’s why I’ll keep grabbing my bike and heading out – alone, with my daughter, or with friends. I want to experience the here and now, to live my life, to feel it. And maybe even inspire others a little. Nothing against the classic vacation, but if you’re after a better way to live, I recommend the so-called harder way of traveling—for a lighter way of life.
So: You in? 😉
Big thanks to everyone at Protect Our Winters Germany for supporting this trip and cheering us even (especially) when we were in the thick of it. If you want to join a wild, adventurous crowd that loves the outdoors: Why not join us?
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