While the world outside was counting down to New Year’s Eve, stocking up on champagne, and philosophizing about “new beginnings,” I was sitting in a shelter in the forest. It was December 30th, it was dark, and the thermometer continued to crawl further into the cellar.
Strictly speaking, one could book this overnighter as a “year-end wrap-up.” But for me, it is more of a baseline measurement—a system check. I didn’t want to say goodbye to the old year; I wanted to check whether my foundation for the new one is ready and how stable it is—both mentally and materially.
Micro-Resilience: The adventure muscle needs training
In January, we tend to forge ambitious plans for the summer. We dream of distant mountain passes and long weeks in the saddle. And that’s a good thing. But the basis for these tours and challenges isn’t laid under the Christmas tree, but in nights like this one.
This overnighter was training in micro-resilience. It’s about the routine of setting off when the couch is actually screaming “stay here.” It’s about mastering the movements in the dark when your fingers get stiff from the cold. About not just enduring the discomfort, but accepting it as part of the process in order to keep your mind free for essential decisions. And it’s about being better able to gauge what your body needs or is trying to tell you right now.
For me, these small escapes are the insurance for the big adventures. Anyone who sleeps in a shelter during a December frost will face a weather shift in the mountains in June much more calmly. It is simply the certainty that your own setup and routines work even under pressure.
The reality check: When theory meets frost
Anyone considering participating in ultra-bikepacking races like the Mountain Races should deal with such temperatures and conditions anyway and be prepared accordingly. But even rainy days in Schleswig-Holstein or a cold snap in the Italian Alps can become challenges that you are better off being prepared for. In that regard, a cold North Frisian winter night is not a bad idea to check yourself and your gear.
When the water in the bottles freezes and the cold makes every break uncomfortable, you see how good your routine really is. Such rides help me detect gaps in nutrition and recovery under real conditions. In theory, every setup is “expedition-ready” in a warm living room. But only outside, in the stress test of reality, does it become clear what actually lasts and works.
Therefore, for me, this last overnighter of the old year was primarily a gear check:
- The sleeping system: I was out with a bivy bag (currently the Big Agnes Three Wire Hooped), which offered protection from the frosty night temperatures in addition to the shelter in Bargum. I also brought the Sea to Summit Reactor liner this time, which provided a bit more comfort. Together with the Xlite 400 from Cumulus and the TAR Uberlite, it was pleasantly warm. In the summer, I obviously don’t ride with this setup, but when it gets cold, I prefer to have a bit more with me so I can recover better.
- The clothing question: Yes, the layering principle applies especially in winter. I had another “aha” moment this winter because, rather by chance, I came across my long-sleeved ski underwear top, which I have come to value highly. Over that, I only wear a Polartec Alpha jacket and, if the wind is icy, a light rain jacket. I don’t need more. What I particularly like is that it stays warm during breaks and dries very quickly. Optimal for long winter tours.
- Energy management: I have learned from my mistakes and have now established a supply routine that allows me to consume between 60-90g of carbohydrates per hour. This is crucial, especially in the cold, where the body needs more energy. For this, I combine a mixture of calorie-rich drinks and energy bars. For drinking in winter, I now rely on a hydration pack, as it keeps the water warm and thus drinkable. The water in my bike bottles was frozen.
- The bicycle: The most important piece of equipment is, of course, the bicycle. I have now cracked the 1,000 km mark on my new Chiru Kegeti and was able to fine-tune it further. It is a noticeable difference from the Salsa Fargo: significantly sportier and also faster. It’s a lot of fun and has now proven itself even on long stages without breaks. I was also able to experiment with luggage and try out different front racks, for example. Next up is the topic of lighting…
So you see, equipment is not an end in itself for me. It is the tool that keeps my head clear and with which I can do almost anything. When I know that my gear works, I can concentrate on the landscape and the experience—and on remaining high-performing and motivated when it counts.
No “New Year, New Luck” – but trust and experience
So I’m not starting this new year with a list of resolutions. I’m starting with a reliable compass. This overnighter showed me: the bike is ready, the setup is dialed, and both mind and body are programmed for “outside.”
Instead of waiting for the first warm day of spring, my advice for 2026 is: perform your own baseline measurement, your own system check. Go out when it’s actually uncomfortable. Test your gear, test your limits. That provides a form of sovereignty that no resolution in the world can buy. And besides, it makes you happy—and you can’t get enough of that this year, either.
