Age is nothing but a number. You’ve no doubt heard that phrase before, but do you believe it? In this issue, pro mountain bikers, Anita and Caro Gehrig are surprised when their 66-year old dad, who is decidedly unadventurous (in the outdoorsy sense of the word), decides spontaneously to join them on a four-day bikepacking trip. As someone who hasn’t camped or “roughed it” in over two decades, the twins were intrigued as to how this ride would pan out…and reading the pitch for this story, I was too! Were his bones too creaky for a night on the ground? How would he handle the uncertainty of where’d they’d sleep each night? You’ll have to read the story to find out. Stephanie Dietze Editor, Notes from Outside
Catherine
Editor, Notes from Outside
“You’re planning an adventure?! I’d like to join you!” says our 66 year old dad, Karl.
Caro and I exchange a look of surprise. The details of our ride from the Ofen Pass, Switzerland to Florence, Italy are already settled: Our gear is lightweight, we stealth camp in the middle of nowhere, and we cover up to 200 kilometers a day. For someone who hasn't slept outside for at least 25 years and who, for us, is not exactly the epitome of an outdoorsy adventurer, his enthusiasm for this trip is unexpected. Nevertheless, we immediately agree – dad should definitely join us! All he has to organize is a suitable bike and we’ll take care of the rest.
Our route starts on the 2149-meter high Ofen Pass, where the conditions for ski touring are perfect (and cold), but in the distance the landscape shows signs of spring. We’re excited to see what the next few days will bring and of course, curious to see how dad handles his first bikepacking experience.
Our route points us towards South Tyrol, following a winding cycle path alongside apple orchards where the blossoms are in full bloom. With 200 kilometers to cover today, we have to keep up a speedy pace. We've never ridden this far in one go before, but the route is slightly downhill the whole way. “Easily doable,”we thought to ourselves as we planned the route from the comfort of the sofa. What we did not account for was the brutal headwind that accompanied us the whole way. This was dad’s first challenge. Luckily he is fit as a fiddle, as even Caro and I had to dig deep to press on. Hours later, stinking of sweat and a little worse for wear, the three of us sit alone at the well in a small village, scoffing pizza like there is no tomorrow. Caro and I can't help but laugh. “Dad you legend. Here we are like vagabonds with our oily pizza boxes and bottles of beer, and you join in on all this nonsense!” Needless to say his first day was a success.
That evening we set up our bivouac camp on the Etsch River, right on the bike path, and dad meets his second challenge. He has no idea how to set up his sleeping system. We patiently show our father how it all works and soon enough we all fall asleep to the sounds of nature and the highway humming in the distance.
We’re woken early by the whirring hubs of some eager cyclists, who give us a puzzled look before they continue on, laughing. Now is the moment of truth: How did dad handle his first camping experience in two decades? I expect something like, “Everything hurts,” or at least a few comments about a stiff neck. But he surprises us, yet again. He’s in a great mood, full of enthusiasm for the day ahead.
A bit of porridge and coffee later, and we’re ready for another day's journey. Almost. As dad discovers, there is an art to packing up your gear into tiny bags. And he has not yet mastered it. This is the first challenge of the trip he cannot rise to. After desperately stuffing and re-stuffing his seven items into his pack, he resists defeat and eventually we’re forced to step in. We have another 150 kilometers to cover today, and leaving dad alone to his packing means we may never leave camp.
It’s a great day. Bright sunshine, warm temperatures (a world away from the chill of the Ofen Pass) and hearty food. We stop for lunch in the picturesque port town of Peschiera del Garda and treat ourselves to a take-away burger on the lake’s shore. A few hours later we roll into Santa Caterina, and with a total of 350 kilometers in our legs (including 50 kilometers of bumpy bike path), we celebrate with a dip in the village fountain. Bemused locals do not deter Dad, and his “shower” feels like a baptism of sorts. He is officially a dirtbag bikepacker now! Maybe he does have an adventurous bone in his body after all!
After an undisturbed night bivvying near the edge of a forest we are well-rested for the day ahead. This is a good thing because after a quick glance at the weather forecast, we realize there’s no time to dawdle. Rain is on the way! We’ve barely budged from our sleeping bags before the coffee is made and served to dad while Caro and I pack down camp. On reflection, it’s interesting to see how our parent-child dynamic has changed. For nearly half our lives so far dad has taken care of us, and now it's up to us to deal with the logistics – plan the route, check the weather, source the food, unpack, pack. Dad’s just along for the ride – literally.
After our hasty departure, we slow down in the city of Modena for a cappuccino and a delicious second breakfast. It’s the perfect moment to stop as the weather has caught up with us. "Everything please!" sums up our order, as fat rain drops plop on the ground outside. Dad gets another quintessential bikepacking experience: a table lavishly covered with every dish the bar has to offer.
Leaden with food, we wind our way out of the city and notice the first hills of the Apennines on the horizon. Tuscany is in our sights. Regardless, our destination for the day is hard-fought. The steep climbs with tired legs are quite a challenge. But the closer we get to Lago di Suviana, the more our spirits lift, because a refreshing dip in the crystal-clear reservoir awaits us.
Shivering but content, we're soon sitting on the shore, pleased we packed all our warm clothes! With the drop in temperature to below ten degrees, and rain forecast for the night, dad is facing his final “adventure challenge”. With campsites closed, the uncertainty around where we’ll sleep makes him a little uneasy. Unfortunately we’ll have to skip our night by the lake – unless we want to get completely soaked. In the end we’re lucky to find an empty house with a small covered terrace. We decide to hope for the best and camp on the porch. We’ll take any shelter we can get. Lying in our bivvy bags, the heavy rain ceases to bother us as we remember that Florence, our end goal for this adventure, is only half a day's ride away.
In the morning, we squish our damp kit back into our packs, and push through the final 65 kilometers of the route. Thanks to the cold and damp, they do not come easy but the welcome committee at the coffee academy where we planned to meet a brand sponsor, makes the slog worth it.
The Italians are impressed with dad’s adventure accomplishment, and once again Caro and I glance at one another. This time it is not a look of surpise, but rather, one of pride. Dad – the silver fox with minimal adventure acumen – has completed his first bikepacking trip at age 66, and he’s enjoyed it! That surely is worth celebrating.
Words and photos by Caro and Anita Gehrig
Caro and Anita Gehrig are Swiss-based mountain bikers. They’re happiest outside, preferably on two wheels and with a healthy dose of adrenaline. Their favorite rides involve a bit of a challenge because, as they believe, it’s fun to test your own limits now and then.