Woods can be pretty creepy places in the daytime, let alone the nighttime. But that didn’t stop me: I’d decided that June’s microadventure was going to be a night in the woods, and that’s exactly what I did.
Arriving late I quickly set up the tarp, sleeping pad and sleeping bag in the dark, drank a beer to celebrate, and then slipped inside. There wasn’t a breath of wind, and the wood was silent apart from the occasional owl-hoot.
As I lay there listening I realised I could hear something digging below me, probably a rabbit: There were rabbit-holes not far from where I had set up my bivvy site.
Soon I fell asleep under the stars and the trees. This was probably the most restful microadventure I’d ever been on.
Until 5:30 am.
A loud scream yanked me right out of the deep sleep I was in and my eyes popped open wide. I listened for a moment, and the cry came again.
“It’s a fox,” I thought and closed my eyes. I ignored a few more of its yells as I slid further down into the warmth of my sleeping bag, when all of a sudden there was a loud noise right next to me: A gruff bark, similar to the fox, but more throaty. Literally metres from me. What the hell was it?
A psychopath with a chainsaw?
Nope. I have now worked out that it was a Muntjac deer. I’d never heard one of these before, and if I never encounter one up close at 5:30am on a Saturday morning ever again it will be too soon.
I tried to sleep, but by now I was wide awake and it was futile. There’s just no recovering from being woken up at 5:30am! I enjoyed listening to the sounds of the surprisingly un-spooky wood until 7am, when I got up, packed up, and headed out of the woods to go get some breakfast and a cuppa.
In Microadventure #1 (Burghclere to Walbury Hill Night Hike) I hiked 12 miles in difficult conditions, and then slept at the end of the Wayfarer’s Walk on Walbury Hill, before heading back to the car in the morning. I was somewhat disappointed with that microadventure for a whole bunch of reasons, but I was particularly disappointed I’d not seen Walbury Hill in the light of day. Being the highest points in both Berkshire and Hampshire – since the county boundary bisects the hill – I had really wanted to see the top of the hill and the views commanded from there. I’d been far too exhausted and injured on MA#1 to climb to the top and so had slept at the bottom in the dark and the fog, with fantastic views of absolutely nothing.
I’ve been wanting to correct this for some time. When March’s “my year of microadventure” rolled round a month late in April I knew I had to revisit Walbury Hill and do it properly. I was still recovering from the serious bout of illness I’d suffered back in February at this point, and so planned for another very gentle outing.
I remembered that there was a car park at the bottom of Walbury Hill and knew it would be an ideal choice for a gentle walk with a sleep on a hill. Perfect.
I drove out there and parked at the bottom of the hill, which was less simple than I had expected. Why? I’d walked there 6 months ago, I should have known the roads and the look of the place. But it turns out that Walbury Hill looks VERY different in broad daylight and when not covered in thick fog. The car park at the bottom of the hill is already surprisingly high and overlooking an absolutely breathtaking view. On MA#1 I’d walked right past this view oblivious to its presence by the lack of visibility. Arriving for the second time I couldn’t believe I was in the same place as it simply looked too different.
Reaching the top of Walbury Hill I have to confess to not being blown away by the available bivvying locations, nor the view. The path over the hill is actually a road, of sorts, with wide verges alongside of it, but to me a verge does not seem like much of a bivvy site. And still being light and with plenty of people still on the path I decided to carry on along the Wayfarer’s Walk to its end at Combe Gibbet. At that point I was thinking I’d spend the night at the gibbet, but I reached it much quicker than expected, and it turned out to be private property and full of sheep. Not a great place to put your head down for the night. And so on I walked, continuing onto the Test Way.
Both the Wayfarer’s Walk and the Test Way start at Inkpen Beacon, the hill on which Combe Gibbet is located, and they could be considered to be continuations of one another. I carried on Westward as darkness fell. As I passed a field of sheep near the gibbet I spied one with its head stuck in the fence separating the field from the path. It had managed to get the fleece on its neck thoroughly tangled in the thick brambles that were growing on my side of the fence alongside the path, and they in turn were preventing it from sliding its head back through. Not wanting to return in the morning to find a strangled sheep I helped the panicked animal by slowly making my up to the fence making what I assumed to be noises that would be soothing to a sheep. Gently pulling the brambles out of its fleece I slowly untangled the stricken creature. After a fashion it managed to free itself from the fence, look back at me with a disgusted expression on its face, then run after its mates who’d left it for dead. Some friends, huh? And for that matter some thanks, huh? Clearly, sheep have no manners.
I carried on down the Test Way along Inkpen Hill where I eventually found a reasonably secluded spot between a hedgerow and some trees. Thinking ahead for once I’d even brought myself a spot of dinner in a Stanley thermos flask which I then ate with a multitool. Apparently my forward thinking hadn’t stretched as far as considering to bring a spoon.
Being a fairly clear night made for some great photo opportunities for star photography, so I snapped away for a while before realising I was getting tired and cold.
Ready for some sleep I got out my new lightweight 2-seasons sleeping bag that I’d only just bought earlier that week, and proceeded to bed down. Turns out April was still a little too early for a 2-season sleeping bag and so I found myself waking up in the night shivering and wishing I’d brought my 3-season bag.
An abundance of sleep was not had that night: Partly thanks to the cold, partly thanks to the fact that I never seem to sleep well the first night of a microadventure – which is particularly annoying since most of my microadventures consist of only one night under the stars – but also largely thanks to the rave that seemed to be happening nearby. I never worked out where, but there was a hell of a lot of loud music fairly close by that night. I suspect it was over at Combe Gibbet, but I don’t know for a fact. There was no sign of it the next morning, but there were some empty beer and cider cans that hadn’t been there the evening before.
Next morning I packed up, took a couple of photos and then cursed myself for not having charged the battery on my camera since it spectacularly failed after only a few photos. So with little else to do I headed back down the Test Way paying special attention to the lack of a dead sheep in the fence.
As with every other micradventure, life felt good that morning.
Yesterday evening I attended my wife’s colleague’s surprise birthday party in a pub in a village just outside of Newbury. I quaffed a copious amount of beer (by my standards) and then we headed home. When I got home I grabbed my rucksack, stuffed my sleeping bag into it, filled up my hydration pack, and started walking.
It might not be entirely ideal to head out on a microadventure when drunk, but I knew the weather forecast was for a cold, clear, dry night… My chances of another clear night before the end of January were probably not great: this had been the first clear night for about three weeks, so I was keen to make the most of it.
I’d already decided I’d like to do a microadventure on Donnington Castle, a medieval castle that was the site of an 18 month siege during the civil war. After its eventual fall to the parliamentarians it was decided that the castle would be demolished. All that remains now is the gatehouse, some small walls showing the original outline of the building, and the earthworks that were built to protect the castle during the siege.
Being a short walk of about an hour from my house it seemed like a fantastic opportunity for a microadventure. And with being on a hill it commands fantastic views across Newbury making it the perfect spot for sunrise photography.
I rolled up around 1am, still drunk, and spent the next half an hour or so simply staring at the twinkling lights of the town and the twinkling lights of the stars. Eventually I noticed the cold and decided a retreat into the sleeping bag would probably be a wise move. After the usual fight to get into the bag I lay and watched the stars for a while contemplating, as I always do when staring at the stars, my own insignificance. And then suddenly I was asleep.
With alcohol in my blood and with the night being so wrenchingly cold it should come as no surprise that I slept badly. I never sleep well after alcohol, and it really was bitterly cold. This is the first bivvying adventure I’ve completed where I was actually cold during the night. But to be fair I used to always find myself freezing in the night on summer camping trips with a tent, so to be able to now survive below -3ºc with just a bivvy bag is something of a triumph.
And then I peeked out of the sleeping bag and noticed the sky was changing colour – sunrise was beginning! I leapt out of the sleeping bag, which was covered in frost on both the inside and the outside, to find my shoes and my gloves had also frozen in the night. I went about setting up the camera – this time I’d brought both camera batteries so as to avoid a repeat of the battery fiasco on the Liddington Castle microadventure. Already the sky was turning a beautiful pink colour and I found myself so entranced I kept forgetting to snap some photos.
After the pink sky settled down I went about packing my belongings ready to go home, thinking that was all the sunrise I was going to get, when a lady with a dog walked past.
“You’ve got the sunrise this time then, eh?” She said. Then she paused and looked at me again. “You are the same person who was here the other day?”
“No this is my first time coming up here for a sunrise.”
“Oh– Well you’ve picked a good day, you’ve definitely caught the sunrise!”
I looked behind me to discover that the pink sky had really been only the beginning. I’d been assuming the sun was behind the clouds, but there it was now, slowly starting its climb over the horizon. And so back I went to the camera to take some more photos!
This was a truly breathtaking sunrise. I could so easily have wussed out the microadventure having been out late for the birthday party, but I stuck to the plan regardless and the payoff was incredible. Here’s to the next awesome sunrise!
My first ever Microadventure – or, at least, the first that I have given the title of “Microadventure” to.
After work on Tuesday 14th I got in the car and drove to Burghclere, a small village to the South of Newbury, just over the border in Hampshire. It was already getting dark when I arrived: The first in a long line of errors. The plan had been to do the majority of the walk in daylight and watch the sun go down once I reached Walbury Hill – the destination.
The next error was that I’d grossly underestimated just how far I had to walk, and how difficult the terrain was going to be. And walking it in pitch black didn’t make it easier. On top of that about half way through the walk a thick mist set in.
Pitch black dark,
surprisingly tricky terrain,
thick mist with visibility of about 2 metres,
wet, muddy ground,
an overweight back pack on my back (I have a bad habit of packing too much)…
Not an ideal mix for a first microadventure. I arrived at the halfway point around the time I had planned to finish the walk.
Shortly after the halfway point something went very wrong with my right foot: The sole started hurting and it only got worse with each step. By this point I was in the tail end of nowhere in Hampshire, soaked and covered in mud. I couldn’t exactly call a cab. I checked the map thinking I could shorten the walk by changing the destination, but I was as far away from the car as I could get at this point.
One bad slip on a badly water-eroded path led to a fall into a water-filled ditch, grabbing a handful of brambles in one hand and a handful of nettles in the other. Soaked, muddy, hands throbbing and bleeding I still had no choice but to pick myself up and carry on trudging into the sensory-depriving mist. There was no scenery, even the path was barely visible.
Seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like years.
I finally arrived at Walbury Hill at about midnight in a lot of pain. I didn’t bother climbing to the top, I decided to sleep at the bottom in order to avoid putting any further strain on my already very sore foot. It took close to an hour to get the bivvy site set up and in the bag. It was after 1am before I was even close to being able to attempt sleep.
Sleep was unattainable: The strain of the walk had left my heart racing and pounding, so I simply lay there in the mist for another five hours or so before getting up, packing everything back into my backpack and then hefting it back onto my back to head off into the mist once again.
I spent the morning simply finding the shortest, quickest route back to the car. The route wasn’t especially scenic, the plan was just to get back as fast as possible before my foot completely gave out on me. The sun rose around 7:30am and the mist lifted which improved my mood considerably and lifted my spirits.
I arrived back at the car around 9:30am – some time after I had planned to be back at work. I still had to drive home, shower, change clothes, drive to work, … In the end I called the office and told them I wasn’t coming in (one small perk of being the boss). I still had to go to a client meeting in Oxfordshire later in the day despite not having slept and being in a great deal of pain, but that’s part of the joy of the five-to-nine Microadventure.
This Microadventure hurt like hell, it was one of the toughest things I’ve ever done: I’ve been up and down plenty of mountains, done night hikes, a 30+ mile walk… yet this was the toughest hike I’ve ever done. It was only about 12 miles the first day and about 7 miles the second day, but the conditions made it hard. The total sensory deprivation made this hike torturous.
Does that mean I regret it?
Au contraire: I’m glad I did the walk even though it hurt like hell. I’m in no rush to repeat the experience, but I might be up for doing the same route in easier conditions at some point, perhaps in the summer.
I also learnt a great deal on this adventure:
You don’t need to take the kitchen sink with you, you won’t use 90% of the stuff in your pack,
Walking in the dark greatly decreases your speed,
Walking in mist vastly decreases your speed,
For your first microadventure you’re better off picking a simple location you can drive to, park, walk up a hill and then bivvy down for the night.
This video contains a few clips of the Burghclere to Walbury Hill Microadventure towards the start. I never made a full video for my first microadventure.