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Bikepacking Light-painting
The final night of camping on the way to Berlin, completing my week-long solo journey from London travelling by bike (and ferry) to Rad Race.
This spot in the woods, a hundred metres from the bike-path was more alive than I realised in the fuzzy darkness. Tent pitched and dinner cooked, I unpacked my camera and painted my evening with the light from my head-torch; getting out of my bibs, charging electronics and getting into the tent (coffin).
Alls well. Head down, tent open to gaze at the stars through the creaking canopy above. A beautiful silvery moonlit wash over the spongey bed of grass and soft pine-needles... WHOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMSHHHHHHH!!!!! FUCKING HELLL!
About ten steps from where I lie a train flies past, the night commuters on full-display in the brightly lit carriages, coo-er. I slip into my shoes and investigate the tracks, not that I would’ve camped on the line - but mate, I had no idea that was there! Hilarious.
Back in the tent I cozy-up and drift-off to the sound of tiny sub-terranean critters, in a unnoticed burrow beneath where I lie. Tiny squeaks of furry conversation.
‘Da ist ein großer Mann auf unserem Haus.’
‘Ja genau. Versuchen Sie, an seinen Lätzchen zu schnüffeln.’
