Time Matters
Posted by Kostüme on 21st Mar 2025
MARCH 24, 2025
TIME MATTERS
Freedom and the solo cycling micro-adventure
Words by Jim Clarkson
Images by James Vincent
Looking up the hill, the edge of the snow line appears - a subtle, gentle shift of colours and textures, from bare rock and old bracken, to the sparse but steady show of patchy snow. It’s completely silent, and turning cold, and I’m grateful for a warm sun still on my back.
A breeze blows down from above. I carry my bike across my shoulders, dipping the wheel around rocks as I head up. Each step taken is one more into my adventure - a 36-hour window away from everything. An opportunity to let thoughts form freely, focused only on the trail ahead, allowing the everyday chatter and pressure to fade away. Freedom.
It’s a universal human need to have time away, especially when the demands of life get to be such that you find yourself pausing, doubting or freezing. The distinct loss of focus it brings. Feeling directionless, uncertain of anything and everything. This trip was originally planned with friends, but ended up as a solo ride, and it turned out to be just the tonic.
All very picturesque, but a much more serious undertaking when your direction of intended travel is upwards (Pic: Jim Clarkson)
Riding solo - particularly in remote areas like the Lake District (which I am fortunate enough to call home) - enhances the feelings of freedom. No thoughts of the needs of others.
It’s not selfish to put yourself front and centre when you find yourself needing a reset, or the space to make sense of bigger thoughts. Everybody ultimately benefits. Find some directions, make a route, pull together all the requisite dynamics and forces. Get outside before overthinking takes control.
In the Lake District, you get pretty used to slinging the bike over your shoulders at some point in a ride (Pic: James Vincent)
The planned route was to ride from the front door, over the fells to a YHA. Some last minute things necessitated shortening the route a little, because real life rarely has respect for aspiration. But the essence of the journey remained. Get up high, ride some favourite trails, enjoy the freedom from everyday distractions. I’d take the bare minimum of kit, utilising all methods to carry only what was truly needed.
As someone with experience of testing and writing about cycling products, I have a lot of related thoughts when I’m riding, like what allows me to do these trips - the time, the technology, the design, the passion, the resources. All the things needed to create quality modern riding kit: warm, but not too hot. Good mobility. Lightweight, but robust. Form and function, honed to perfection. Goldilocks.
When your gear minimises room for worry, and helps reduce the potential for problems, I find it gives me more space to focus not only on riding, but also letting my mind wonder/wander.
Cargo bibs are the perfect example of minimalist maximalism, and ideal for adventures like these (Pic: James Vincent)
Moving upwards now, everything dusted lightly in snow. Not enough to cause hindrance, or to make conditions dangerous rather than challenging, yet the mountain rescue stretcher box halfway along the route is a stark reminder of risk versus reward.
I think about how lucky I am to be here, able to do these things - to be outside, on two wheels, in these high, wild places. Something that, for much of human history, would have been seen as implausible, if not impossible.
Some of the terrain we take for granted today would have been inconceivable not long ago. Progression is a wondrous thing. Pic: James Vincent.
I remind myself to use my front brake more - that it’s powerful, and a riding skill I’m always trying to finesse.
The steep trail moves from bedrock slabs, to loose scree, then abruptly over and down a harsh, square-edged water bar. The near-subliminal muscle memory co-ordinating movement of head, hands, legs, weight on tyres and contact patch, is utterly visceral.
It’s a place where you are actively thinking and responding, but your brain is quiet. It’s finding the ideal lines, and for some sweet, scarce moments it's just one flowing movement. The hallowed, hard-to-find flow state.
Choosing smooth lines on technical descents on a gravel bike doesn't leave much room for other thoughts - perfect for quieting the head, if not the body. (Pic: James Vincent)
The back wheel chatters over the rough trail surface, snapping my focus to more immediate, present thoughts, and that - despite it being there for perhaps hundreds of years or more - its unforgiving surface reminds me that I’m alone, a long way from home, and it demands respect.
The space to find freedom can be short or long, but the process of creating and allowing the space is crucial. Being able to get out, and let go. Not to overthink, or feel guilt for the things you may have left behind: work, relationships, kids, responsibilities. Finding freedom from distraction in the current climate is something that increasingly feels like life, like really being alive.
And this solo micro-adventure was a timely reminder that the bicycle is the perfect tool to unlock it.
As an extension of both our physical and mental self, the humble bicycle is perhaps the perfect tool for mindful travel and adventure, especially in landscapes like these. Pic: James Vincent.
Jim Clarkson is a graphic designer, illustrator & reformed bike product tester (amongst other things).
James Vincent is an adventure sports and commercial photographer based in the Lake District.