As my own attempts to live adventurously evolved from jumping on planes to distant continents, I began to develop the idea of microadventures. They have been part of my effort to learn to look for the opportunities amongst the constraints of life.

I never imagined how helpful the principal would be for me, both in the literal sense of squeezing exercise and fresh air around the margins of my days, but also as a metaphor to help with everything I do.

I had become more aware of how many people love the idea of adventure but are not able to have adventures of their own (or think that they cannot). I decided to try to break down some of the barriers getting in the way.

You can’t afford to cross a continent? What is within reach? You don’t have time fora big adventure? What can you do? Still too hard? OK, try this. I kept reducing and simplifying and trying to put a positive spin on every situation. 

Think smaller and simpler. Look around you. What can you do in your lunch break? Climb a tree, make coffee in the woods, swim in a river… When you’re driving, you can use your sat-nav as an adventure guide – look for streams to detour to rather than service stations. You can always do something. 

A microadventure is no different from an adventure, however you personally define the word ‘adventure’. The only difference is that a microadventure is one that is close to home, cheap, simple, short and therefore more likely to actually happen. Microadventures began as an attempt to capture the spirit, principles and benefits of challenging expeditions. Could I replicate some of this through accessible activities condensed into a weekend away, or even a midweek overnight escape?

I began by walking a 120-mile lap of London alongside the M25 but learned that was still too big for most people. So I explored a lap of my own home, walking a circle with a mere 2-mile radius. I discovered places I had never been to before.

I built a raft that sank in the Lake District and drifted down a river on tractor inner tubes in Wales.

I cycled to the sea to sleep on a beach. I pedalled across the Pennines between the houses where my parents were born.

I cooked on campfires, slept on hilltops overlooking cities and motorways and watched meteor showers from my sleeping bag.

Sometimes it rained, sometimes the sun shone. Some nights were idyllic, others only reminded me to appreciate my own bed again.

I just kept on doing things, learning from my mistakes, building habits, making routine life a little more vivid and memorable. 

It is not always easy to do, but I am trying to teach myself to approach every day adventurously by embracing curiosity and encouraging excitement. I prefer this approach to trundling along the conveyor belt like an unloved plate of sushi until the next blip of excitement like a summer holiday or weekend away. I am learning to search for the beauty in every landscape. To develop a deeper appreciation by paying attention to details – the first buds of spring, the first swift, the globe’s still working. 

The canvas of my life will be painted by thousands of these small moments, decisions and actions, not by a handful of dramatic splodges or events. 

I hope that the essence of microadventures is transferable to you. Microadventures is an idea anyone can use, whether you are a potter, a programmer, or a potholer. It offers a way to convert big ideas into small beginnings. If you dream of climbing Everest but can’t get round to sleeping on top of your local hill, you need to know there’s a glitch in your system. 

Dream up a massive, complicated, ambitious adventure. And then go do a tiny, simple one instead. This way, you will actually get on and do it. You will build momentum. And once you have momentum, the big adventure dreams take care of themselves.

 

Schedule a date in your diary to do it.