What struck me after taking a spin around the planet was not so much how much of the world I saw, but how little of it. I dreamed that pedaling through 60 countries and crossing oceans on boats for four years would satisfy my wanderlust. In fact, he did the exact opposite. It inspired me to pursue new adventures and experience more places. So I walked across southern India, crossed Iceland by freighter, and spent weeks camping in the frozen Arctic Ocean. I pulled a horse-drawn carriage through the Empty Quarter desert, rowed across the Atlantic Ocean, and rode a bus through Spain playing the violin, badly.
Throughout my years of wandering, I have come to realize that much of what I seek in my expeditions lies within my head and heart, not beyond the next horizon. So I wondered if I could find challenge and intrigue closer to home. So I walked a lap of the M25, looking for adventure even in mundane environments. It turned out to be a surprisingly interesting journey that led me to seek out short, simple, affordable getaways – micro-adventures – that fit in with busy daily life.
These weekend trips, wild camps, and wild swims are not “better” adventures (they are nothing) than cycling across a continent with a tent strapped to the back of a bike, but they are not “worse” either. Micro-adventures are a way to maximize the opportunities in your life instead of complaining about the obstacles that stand in the way of your dream escapes. They’re meant to get you excited about the possibilities of the weekend, rather than regretting not taking months to do it.
But after years of evangelizing micro-adventures, I wanted to bring the curiosity of exploring the world closer to home. To put nearby nature into our daily lives and to show that we can all do this every day, no matter where we live, no matter how busy we are.
So I decided to spend a whole year exploring the only Ordnance Survey map I’ve ever lived on. The country is covered by the Explorer series of maps, each covering an area of approximately 20 km x 20 km and divided into individual squares of one kilometre. My map lies in an insignificant corner of the country, on the outskirts of a city, with the constant hum of traffic and the orange glow of street lights. But you don’t have to live in the beautiful South Downs or Lake District to enjoy the outdoors and explore new places. I decided to visit a single grid square a week and do my best to explore it thoroughly. I wanted to get into the habit of being curious and focused on taking photos during walks and bike rides as a way to remind myself to slow down and pay attention.
At first I was worried that the project would be boring. The area of my map was too small and claustrophobic. The landscape was very structured, with not enough streams and hills. It is certain that a single map is not enough exploration for a year.
The first week talked me out of these concerns. I set out towards a remarkably large area of swamp that I had never bothered to visit before. Reminding myself to act on the principle that Sir Terry Pratchett described as “The Importance of Wondering at Absolute Everything”, when I returned home I began taking photographs and scribbling notes of things to learn more. The closer I looked, the more I saw. The more I saw, the more there was to see.
I realized how much I usually miss running or cycling. My phone became my trusted professor; Point the Seek app at a plant or creature and it will identify it for you; The Merlin app listens to birds’ songs and tells you which bird is singing. I learned more about nature than I ever could while studying for my A-Levels or university degree.
My passion for travel also benefited from these trips. I discovered the trialhole, a small medieval chalk mine a few miles from my front door, and enjoyed lowering myself into its dark depths at the end of a climbing rope. Choosing grid squares at random, rather than relying on my preconceptions about which areas were “interesting”, meant that I found paths through bluebell forests that I never knew existed. I discovered brown trout swimming in a small stream by the highway. And now I came across a closed golf course that was starting to get wild again.
Both serendipity and determination to be curious were important. I had initially anticipated that I would enjoy the rural grid squares and tolerate the concrete ones. But actually my favorite weeks were the ones I spent exploring the forgotten landscapes behind industrial parks, where saplings poked through cracked concrete and butterflies basked in pesticide-free wildflowers. I loved the quiet of the forgotten outskirts outside the towns, the startling wildness of the forested strips along busy roads, and the loneliness I often felt in these unloved, ignored places.
I can’t claim that this year has felt like an adventure comparable to rowing across oceans or crossing deserts. There was no alternative to such expeditions. But it felt like both discovery and travel. It revealed how little I knew about where I call home, made me reflect on the crisis of nature loss, and introduced me to healthy habits of fresh air and exercise, which are beneficial to both mental and physical health. Above all, he emphasized that we can think differently about the roads we choose to travel.
Hopping on a plane doesn’t have to be the default option when you feel the urge to visit a new place. If you are curious and willing enough, a single map can be enough exploration for your entire life.
Local: Seeking Nearby Nature and Wildlife Written by Alastair Humphreys (£12.99) is out now