I’m GravelGav, a keen gravel cycling enthusiast who craves the crunchy stuff, seeking it out with a vengeance, whether alone, with others, near or far. I’m often planning or imagining adventure as something epic: perhaps out of the country, summiting remote mountain passes, or disappearing off the grid for weeks. And while those journeys are no doubt unforgettable, for whatever reason, they can be rare.
Enter the bikepacking micro-adventures - small, self-powered trips that fit into the cracks of real life. No long-haul flights, no career breaks - just you (maybe with mates), your bike, and the open gravel for a night or two.
And the best part? These bite-sized adventures can be even more fulfilling than a grand expedition. And here’s why.
Bikepacking micro-adventures remind us of something powerful: you don’t need a big plan to live boldly.
These small, self-contained escapes reignite your sense of wonder, strengthen your connection to nature, and remind you how good it feels to move, explore, and sleep outside.
In the end, it’s not about how far you go, it’s about how alive you feel while getting there. So, following a flippant chat with mates over a coffee, we wandered upon…The Capital Trail…we’ve not done that one yet, have we?!
There’s something about riding into the unknown with mates, a loaded gravel bike, and no fixed plan that feels like freedom distilled.
As GravelGav, I’ve done my fair share of gravel missions, but this one - the Capital Trail, designed by Markus Stitz - had a different edge to it. A proper micro-adventure. Just me, my friends John and Jack, bikes packed, legs itching, and the forecast threatening to make things interesting.
Leaving the Shop, Chasing Light
We left the shop early Saturday evening, the late summer sun already casting that golden glow that makes even a greasy chain look poetic. There was no grand send-off, no fanfare - just three mates with the same thought: “Let’s see how far we can get before the heavens open.” That’s the kind of optimism that gets you into brilliant trouble.
The Capital Trail loops south of the capital, into the borders and back up around Edinburgh, a rugged 240-kilometre adventure that dips in and out of some of Scotland’s best wild riding - quiet backroads, old drove paths, upland singletrack, remote forest trails, some champagne gravel and more gates than you can count. It’s not just a ride, it’s an experience. Following some of the best city cycle paths and back streets, we were soon passing through Portobello, the official start of the route, and rolling along the coast towards Musselburgh.
Before easing our way inland, with fresh legs and the buzz of the city quickly giving way to quiet countryside, we knew we should eat. Given there was no real pressure, no rush - just the freedom of the trail ahead and the hum of tyres on gravel to come, we did what any decent gravel cyclist would do… ”pizza anyone?!”
Pedals Turning, Spirits High
Bellies now full, the route dragged us away from the city through quaint villages, back country tracks, and quiet B roads on to the edge of the Lammermuirs, where the first climb offered a glimpse of what was to come: long views, steep ramps, and a solid dose of type-2 fun. It was clear, however, that we were rapidly losing light, so we accepted that these views would have to wait until tomorrow.
The air cooled as we climbed higher, and the wind was picking up. Riding a line between storm clouds and golden light, the landscape opened out, sheep scattered like punctuation marks across the fields, and the trail began to feel truly remote. We had no idea where we’d camp, but as we pushed deeper into the hills, Jack spotted a potential area of flat ground on the map, and as we approached it, we opted to camp in a sheltered spot by a gate, appearing like a sign from the gravel gods.
“This’ll do,” John said, and it really would. Quiet, flat, sheltered, and just enough elevation to keep the midges away.
Camping Under Threatening Skies
Tents erected, and stoves lit just as the wind started to pick up again, it was the last of our snacks with a cup of tea that topped off a cracking start to our adventure. Laughter bounced around as we dissected the evening, sharing a hip flask (thanks, John), and listening to the wind picking up even more. Whilst the rain stayed away overnight, the morning saw it turn from gentle spits into a proper Scottish soaking by 7am, just when we had planned to get up!
Coffee, Gravel, and a Lot of Gates
Whilst the morning came in grey and wet, coffee brewed just outside the tent porch, tasting like salvation. We were slow to pack - partly from tired legs, partly just taking in the stillness and avoiding a soaking. Once we got going, we were straight into some challenging terrain, mainly due to the gradient. The gravel was good, but here we were met with our first bout of ‘hike a bike’. We knew this was coming, but I guess nothing prepares you for it, and so in silent acceptance, we pushed on.
We would take in some of the Southern Upland Way as part of this route, linking some of the border towns such as Lauder, Selkirk, and Melrose. There were certainly some stunning sections - quiet, open, and full of that glorious "nowhere" feeling. Just wild hills, moorland, and big skies. However, what followed was some of the slowest going of the entire trip.
Constant rollers, hidden bogs, and technical stretches that demanded our full attention. But it wasn’t just the riding. The gates… oh, the endless gates. Every 200 metres felt like another dismount and lift. It disrupted our flow but added to the story. Laughs turned to grunts, and then back to laughs again.
Through Border Towns and Into the Wild Again
As the trail meandered through some of these cracking little towns, each one gave us a chance to refill bottles, grab supplies, and speak to locals who looked at us like we were either very lost or just mad. Possibly both.
Selkirk offered a particularly welcome stop. A warm, welcoming cafe, with a hot broth, egg sarnie, strong coffee, and cake the size of your head. Just what we needed before tackling more elevation through the Tweed Valley and beyond.
It’s worth noting that my GRVL kit was performing flawlessly. The merino jersey was breathable when we were climbing, warm enough once the sun dipped, and crucially, the bib shorts were comfortable even after hours in the saddle. There’s something reassuring about gravel kit that just works, especially when you’re relying on it in the middle of nowhere.
When Detours Make Sense
By Sunday lunchtime, it became very clear that our original plan to complete the full trail loop exactly as mapped wasn’t going to fly.
The combination of rough terrain, mechanicals (or let’s say, my lack of tubeless sealant - don’t ask!), the sheer number of climbs, and that relentless gate-hopping meant we were way behind where we expected to be. I’m not sure who spoke up first, but as a collective we made the call: detour and finish strong rather than limp in late or risk camping again with soggy kit and dwindling snacks.
Even with the reroute, we didn’t cut corners - just trimmed the fat and followed the lines that would still challenge us without pushing us into the red. It was the right call. Spirits stayed high, and the riding still delivered. Fast roads, technical cycle paths, and more classic central Scotland gravel than we knew what to do with.
Rolling Home
Late on Sunday evening, we rolled back into Fife. Tired, battered, covered in sweat, but buzzing.
No records broken, no KOMs taken, but something far better: memories made. One of the final climbs, the one over the Forth Road Bridge, was a mix of effort and reflection. We’d covered a huge range of terrain, seen some of the best hidden corners of the south of Scotland, and tested ourselves in every way that matters. It wasn’t fast - slow going was the theme, thanks to the terrain, elevation, and all those blasted gates - but that’s the point of an adventure like this. It’s not about the numbers. It’s about the moments between them (but the stats are below, should anyone be interested!).
Final Thoughts
Would we do it again? Absolutely. With maybe fewer gates, more tubeless sealant for me, and an even bigger bag of snacks.
My GRVL kit held up brilliantly throughout - no chafing, no overheating, no fuss. Just solid, reliable gear that felt as good at the end of day two as it did on hour one.
The Capital Trail, with our flirtations with the Southern Upland Way and the Lammermuir and Meldon Hills, gave us everything we wanted and more: remote riding, proper graft, genuine laughs, and the kind of moments you can’t plan for.
In the end, this was more than just a ride. It was a reminder. That micro-adventures are within reach. That freedom can start after work on any evening. And that the best stories are still written in gravel, mist, and the middle of nowhere - with good mates and no signal.
Until the next one,
Gav Cooper (GravelGav)
Route stats:
Distance: 230.07 km
Elevation: 2,478m
Moving Time: 11:59.50
Avg Speed: 19.2km/h
Avg Power: 162 W
Calories: 7,112 Cal
