Up up up! – Conquering the Infamous Passes of the Dolomites

This story originally appeared on komoot.

To the next corner. Just until the next corner. Right foot down. Left foot down. Breathe. And again. Pedal stroke by pedal stroke I am moving towards the next switchback, slowly, knowing there are many more to come, even though my body would like to lie down and rest in the grass next to the asphalt. I know it would only be harder to keep on riding later, so I keep on moving my legs. Meter by meter, my bike is moving forwards – and upwards. My breath is going deep and fast as if I am sprinting on flat terrain. Except, that I am probably going slower than any hiker would walk. At least it feels like it. I put my head down and tell myself, “Keep pedaling. Just keep pedaling,” while watching the grey of the asphalt below me move endlessly towards the back of my bike.

When I reach the switchback I steer towards the outside curve in the road, where the gradient is less steep. Once the curve is over, I let my eyes wander to the left, down to the valley, to the houses and streets that now look so tiny. “I’ve come all this way, I might as well ride up those last 14 switchbacks,” I am telling myself – and everything is on repeat. Right foot down. Left foot down. Breathe.

Continue reading Up up up! – Conquering the Infamous Passes of the Dolomites

Korea: The best plan we ever had

“This is it”, I thought, ignoring the fishy smell in the dubious shed behind a beach restaurant I was about to take a shower in, “this is the adventure I came for.” Shower might be an exageration. There was a hose and there was cold water coming out of it. There was no way to lock or even close the door, so I asked Gerald to guard it while I was in there. The other boys had already washed off and sat around a table of the restaurant at the sea shore, enjoying our daily ritual of ordering something from the menu without knowing what we would be served. Today, it would turn out to be a whole, cooked chicken and fermented vegetables on the side.

South Korea. It had sounded far enough to promise a deep dive into a culture I would completely be lost in and close enough to become reality. With five friends, who like to live on the road and sleep under the sky, I was sure to find myself in plenty situations I couldn’t come up with if I tried.

The plan was not to have a plan. To find some good trails during the day and some food and a place to sleep during the night. Here we were, six mountain unicyclists from six countries, some of them the best riders in the world, and none of them to be taken seriously at any second. Maks jokingly cursed the weight of the medals he had won at the world champs that took place in Seoul the week before—because they made his luggage noticeably heavier.

We had picked up our space wagon from the airport and filled it to the roof with six big bags, six mountain unicycles, ourselves and a plastic bag of bananas, toast and peanut butter each. “So where are we going?” I asked from my seat in the very back of the car where I could barely move. “Yeah, let’s at least figure out the rough direction,” Gerald said from behind the steering wheel. We really had no idea. And we loved it.

You could call it ignorant to travel to a country with a culture distinctly different from your own without doing any research, and I would probably agree. But you could also call it fun. This is as close to a real adventure as it gets in a world with mobile internet, google earth and GPS tracks.

I would even argue that you can experience more of a place, in all it’s rawness if you come less prepared. Three of us did not bring any camping gear whatsoever. The first night, Jakob, Matej, and Maksym intended to sleep on a table at a camp ground, when all of a sudden we saw a tent walking towards us. Never before did I rub my eyes because I didn’t believe what I saw. It turned out to be the campground owner who wanted to save us from the mosquitoes and gave us one of the tents he sold in his shop for the night. He explained that in Korean, smiling, and we answered in English, returning the smiles. Sometimes that’s all you need to understand.

Once we all attempted to sleep in the drenching hot summer night, hoping sleep would eventually come, I heard nylon fabric rustling, then something heavy falling on the ground right next to my hammock. One by one, we turned on our lights again and couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Gerald had fallen out of his hammock. The fancy one, that he had talked about for half the drive.

The next morning we started what quickly became our daily routine. Peanut butter and crackers for breakfast, some added canned tuna, and avocado. I had already learned to appreciate the refreshing taste of some oddly small-looking cantaloupe melons. Maksym had started to wear nothing but his brightly colored speedos, which would turn out to be his preferred outfit when off the unicycle. He and Jacob found a gps track somewhere on the internet, in some dodgy forum from 2001, and had a very deep look at google earth. An hour later we were finally packed, managed to stow all our limbs in the car and hit the road.

Continue reading Korea: The best plan we ever had

The Silence Of The Black Hills

There are places as empty as the photos we take of them suggest. Otherworldly landscapes not even locals visit. The trail leading there might be long-forgotten and overgrown. Here, all sound seems to have drained away, even when you listen closely. No wind. No bugs. No rustling in the bushes. There’s a blanket of silence lying over everything. The sound of your feet touching the ground and the rustling of your jacket is soft and clear, making you aware that there is no other soul near or far to hear it. This is what it must feel like to live in a vacuum. Time doesn’t exist and the sun and the stars take turns in watching over you.

We have travelled many miles, hoping to look around a corner and find a new universe. Three old friends, whose lives are so different every day, with their hearts beating in the same rhythm. The second we buckle up in our green little time machine our routine kicks in. How are you what do you dream of which color is real?

We pull over, cook dinner in the sunset and continue driving until we find a lake on the map and brush our teeth in the darkness.

We sleep in a new country, on a road that’s long behind us when locals start commuting the next morning.

We find our pin on the map in real life, park, put on hiking boots, grab our gear, some water and look for a sign that this trail that could be it.

Continue reading The Silence Of The Black Hills

Bohemia – Wolves Don’t Sleep

Sometimes there is nothing holding me back from adventures, but my own thoughts. Luckily, I have friends to help me out in these situations.



Marius is pouring hot water over his holy drip coffee maker.

Marius: “Let’s do something cool this weekend.”
Stephanie: “Okay. But how? Berlin is flat.”
Marius: “Bohemia! It’s wild, it’s romantic and it’s a different country!”
Stephanie: “Sounds great!”
Marius: “We have a plan. I’ll bring the coffee. And the food.”
Stephanie: “I’ll bring everything else. As always.”

Marius performs a ridiculous break dance move on the floor.



We drive. We park the van, pack our bikes, almost spit out the super strong, super black coffee I make and ride into the forest. We race trams that take people uphill to go hiking.

Stephanie: “Was that a waterfall?”
Marius: “Yes, that was THE waterfall.”
Stephanie: “It’s tiny.”
Marius: “Says you.”

Continue reading Bohemia – Wolves Don’t Sleep

One Week In A Tiny Country

This is how we plan most of our trips: We all want to something amazing. Nobody has an idea or time to research. We don’t plan anything. We get to a country half around the globe with hardly any local knowledge at all. And somehow we manage to make it a memorable adventure.

This time it was different. Lutz proposed to not drive as far this time, to skip the ever amazing Dolomites and take the risk of trying something new – with local knowledge. A vacation in a tiny country that a lot of people have never even heard of? Let’s go.

Liechtenstein (5 von 275)

Jesper flew to Berlin, we drove down to Frankfurt, threw Jenni into the van, met Lutz near Lake Constance, went budget food shopping (no meals at huts, no eating out, that’s our deal) and a little later we were sitting at Markus’ table with his family, enjoying pasta and home made pesto. Markus Büchel is a local rider and known for organizing ELSBET, a wicked mountain unicycling convention with shuttles up to the mountain and incredibly good downhill trails that attracts riders from all over the world to come to Liechtenstein. Markus gave us a stack of maps, marked some trails and none of us listend to his directions for good camping spots well enough.

We found it anyhow. And it was one very okay spot.

Liechtenstein (14 von 275)

In the morning, we made pancakes for an hour.

Liechtenstein (19 von 275) Liechtenstein (18 von 275)

Then we started hour two peak tour.

Liechtenstein (22 von 275) Liechtenstein (33 von 275) Continue reading One Week In A Tiny Country

A World Of Words

Whenever I told people I have a pen pal, they started laughing. What do you mean, real letters? To a person you don’t acutally know? Yes, real letters. Or rather, electronic messages, written in classic letter style. Did we plan this? No. We didn’t even know each other.

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The day after we met, André took a plane to South America, to go on a year-long bicycle trip. That was also the day we started writing. Have a good trip. Happy birthday. What is it like to live in a tent? And somehow, it never stopped.

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With no common experiences to look back on, there’s a whole world to be created with words. So we put what we saw into words, wrote about the colors, flavors and the smell of the air around us. The sounds outside our windows and tents. Moments that made us feel whole, encounters that made us think. Meanwhile, months passed and our lives and adventures continued.

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Strangers in Patagonia

When you consider going on a trip with a person you barely know, some people might call you crazy. But they do that all the time, so you are safe to ignore it. Once you booked a flight (“Sure, you can just transfer the money for an overseas flight later.”) and shared detailed packing lists (including the weight of your underwear) you might get an idea of what you have gotten yourself into: Three weeks of backpacking, sleeping in a lightweight (read: tiny) tent, navigating through the wild, all with a good dose of body odor after days of hiking without a shower.

IMG_0234So you stuff an extra merino shirt in the pack and think: “This could work. Or go terribly wrong.” How many of your friends would you like to spend three weeks with, side by side, every hour of the day? Exactly.


One good advice is not to listen to your travel mate’s friend’s, when they tell you all the stories about him. But it’s okay to borrow a flask and fill it with whiskey, just in case “He barely talks” turns out to be true. When the day comes, you board a big plane. Then a smaller propeller machine. When you exit the tiny backcountry airport and set your backpack on foreign ground to wait for the bus, the air is filled with the spicy smell of unfamiliar herbs, underlining how far you are away from home.

IMG_0230 Once you made it to town, the ranger tells you, that there’s too much snow to do the traverse. You play your game, asking concerned, detailed questions and notice your travel mate does, too. The second you step out of the building, you look at each other and know without saying: The heck with it. We’ll give it a try.

IMG_0236 IMG_0237JSF-7458_59_60 IMG_0244 IMG_0256 Continue reading Strangers in Patagonia

2015 – A Year Of Adventuring

The sound of snowflakes falling on your tent. The moment you realize you slept on a dead fish. Becoming friends with the waves. Realizing you’re on top of a mountain in the middle of a thunderstorm. Making any place your home for a night. Cooking popcorn in the middle of the wilderness. So many more.

2015, you’ve been a great companion. Thank you, take care.

Editing: Mastermind and Anwalt Christoph Busgroove​

Iceland On One Wheel

Chapter I – Inner Balance

Every rock, every little bump in the ground is there for a reason. In a world, where nothing ever seems to be enough, the small details that keep together the whole are sometimes too easy to step over. On this land, stripping down to the bare necessities of equipment, exposing oneself to situations whose outcome is unclear, becomes the real adventure.

With one car, two tents and three wheels four longtime friends from three countries take it upon themselves to explore the cold, steaming hills of Iceland. In order to get our bodies and skills ready for this trip, we had gone on three shorter trips to the Italian Alps earlier in the season. Incredible peaks, rocky and technical trails, wild camping without showers, not seeing any other humans for days, dealing with rainy days and getting lost. On the night before the flight that would take us north, we took our unicycles apart, put them in our bag and stuffed the little clothing the weight limits allowed around it. What would the cold rough land of the vikings bring? We had no idea, if we were honest.

Photo by Stephanie Dietze

Mountain unicycling is demanding on your mind and body. With one tiny spot connecting you and the ground to keep your balance, it’s crucial to stay focused, to notice every detail of the ground in front of you. If you let all the steam, the softly shaped hills and fluffy snow tops distract you, the next thing you’ll take in is the earthy smell of the clay-colored soil your nose was lucky to miss.

Photo by Stephanie Dietze

Staying focused is as crucial as being humble, knowing when a line might be above your capabilities will save you from injury or worse. So place your feet securely on the pedals, pull the brake and lean back at the same time, pull on the seat to hop over a rock and don’t break too much in the slippery mud, because a sliding unicycle is even harder to balance.

Photo by Jesper Andersen

Photo by Giulia Tessari

Photo by Stephanie Dietze

Photo by Stephanie Dietze

Photo by Lutz Eichholz Photo by Lutz Eichholz Photo by Stephanie Dietze

Every mountain and every trail is unique. We never know what it will be like to ride it, until we actually do. We’ll get up early in the morning, eat a quick steaming breakfast that’ll keep us warm from the inside, then stuff everything we need for the day in our backpacks: shin and knee protection, gloves, helmet, first aid kit, maps, camera, lenses and batteries, sandwiches, fruits, clifbars, plus a light down puffy and rain jacket, if we don’t already wear them. On our way up, we try to read the trail. That section looks rideable, these switchbacks could be fun. Will I dare to ride down this big rock later? Big views and jokes at the top. Before the cold wind can make us freeze, we put on our gear. “If you brake, you lose,” says Lutz and vanishes down towards the valley. Jesper and I look at each other, grin, and hop on our unis and follow him down the trail.

Continue reading Iceland On One Wheel

Iceland On One Wheel – Video

Every rock, every little bump in the ground is there for a reason. In a world, where nothing ever seems to be enough, the small details that keep together the whole are sometimes too easy to step over. On this land, stripping down to the bare necessities of equipment, exposing oneself to situations whose outcome is unclear, becomes the real adventure.

Kudos to Lutz Eichholz for putting this video together.

The Bellunesi Dolomites: Of Summits and Thunderstorms

There are many things that can go wrong during an adventure. You never know what to expect, which is part of why some of us love to go out exploring. If all goes well, you had a great day. If it doesn’t, you probably have a good story to tell. Some stories, however, aren’t worth the risk you take. On a recent trip to the Bellunesi Dolomites in Italy, I ended up being in a situation, that I am not proud of. It took me a while to decide whether to publicly write about it or not. But in the end, everyone involved agreed on doing so, if only to prevent other people from doing the same mistake.

So here we go. A couple of things I have learned in the mountains:

1. Start your day early.
Or, if you don’t, shorten your tour accordingly. On the day we climbed Malga Vallazza, we had arrived in the mountains rather late and decided to turn around before we reached the actual peak.

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2. Wear purple shorts. As often as you can.
Lutz is a pro at this and looks flawless every second.

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3. Learn how to read maps.
By now, Lutz and I have gotten pretty good at interpreting dashed and dotted lines as well as altitude profiles. Sometimes we’ll look at a map for half an hour or more, to find a trail that could be rideable. And even then, there’s a good chance it’s not rideable at all.


4. Know your companions.
Do not invite anyone to come with you, before asking them about their experience in detail. Ask them about their gear and any fears they have. If someone shows up in a sweatshirt and sneakers, does not bring a rain jacket and tells you she usually hikes in flat landscapes and is afraid of heights: Do not bring them along. For their and your own safety.

Bring along strong and strong-minded people like these:


IMG_6768 Continue reading The Bellunesi Dolomites: Of Summits and Thunderstorms

Basecamp at Lake Garda

There’s one principle of mine, that I haven’t yet broken: “Post your photos and stories before you head off for the next adventure” is the reason why my photos and stories ever go online in the first place. I definitly am geeky enough to enjoy hours of photo editing all alone in a dark room, forgetting to turn on the light for hours. But before I’ll do that, I’ll write some copy for my friends at komoot and Lieferheld, run, unicycle, play frisbee, bake sourdough bread, go camping for a night, meet friends for a philosophical talk over a good cup of coffee or watch the sunset at Tempelhofer Feld. So here I am, again, well after midnight, writing a blog post before I’ll do my famous ten minute packing and head off to the train station before it gets light.

Here’s what my Easter consisted of:
Italian flora, rocks and a new helmet (Thanks, POC!)


Lutz, his purple new jacket and lots of yummy CLIFbars.


Great poses.


Ostern Gardasee (13 von 277)

Snow at 1200m…


…resulting in early descents.


Long hikes up.

Continue reading Basecamp at Lake Garda

The Last Summit

Before the mountains of the Alps were dusted with white powder this year, Lutz Eichholz and I decided we wanted to do another big peak. In order for this to happen, it had to be soon. So we quickly made a plan, called up the most courageous and wild Austrians we know, Gerald Rosenkranz and David Weichenberger, and asked them to come along.

A couple of days later, we met at a lonely train station near Innsbruck just before it got dark. I soon realized I had forgotten to bring any riding pants. Luckily, rule number one of Lutz Eichholz is: “Always bring a swim suit.” (Number two is: “Never bring a mattress”). I have never been happier to wear baggy swim shorts. We spread out everything we brought on the street, discussed what we needed to bring and stuffed it all into our big hiking packs. Then we turned on our head lamps and started climbing up a narrow gorge in the dark. When we had found a good spot to set camp, we soon noticed our stove didn’t work, had semi-warm Gnocchi for dinner, quickly set up our tents and hammocks and fell asleep listening to tales of the brave adventures of Lutz.

The next morning, with tiny eyes and wild hair, we were taken aback by the beauty of the place.

The weather man said there would be a thunderstorm in the afternoon, so we hurried upwards.

When we saw some evil-looking clouds coming towards us, we decided it would be smarter to turn around than to try and reach the summit at any cost. The trails, however, proved to be excellent.

Rider: Stephanie Dietze Photo: David Weichenberger

Rider: Gerald Rosenkranz Photo: Stephanie Dietze

Rider: Lutz Eichholz Photo: Stephanie Dietze

Continue reading The Last Summit

Whistler, Pemberton & The Wilderness

Take five people from four countries, five wheels, a very minimalistic set of camping gear, a bag of food and a cassette adapter for the soundtrack. Throw them all in an awesome old van, add a pile of never drying, smelly pads and helmets – and you’re set for a road trip that will make you forget that there’s a real life out there somewhere.

You’ll learn lots of things. For example: British Columbia has 20,348,951,484 more stars in the sky than any other place in the world. Ice-cold rivers and lakes are much better than showers. Dish soap is unnecessary. Chips are necessary. Mount Gandalf is an actual place. It is possible to sleep for a whole day. Roads in Canada might just stop in the middle of nowhere. Just stay on the unicycle.

Ten days in Whistler, Pemberton, Birkenhead Lake and the wilderness surrounding those places. Here are some of my favorite moments and shots.

Sam, Gerald, Benoit, Jakob and...yes that's me. Dear Diary, I really like tape and Dr Pepper. Jakob Flansberry on Kill Me Thrill Me - Whistler Gerald Rosenkranz on Kill Me Thrill Me - Whistler Very remote camping spot. Continue reading Whistler, Pemberton & The Wilderness

Vancouver & The North Shores

Riding some of the legendary mountain bike trails in and around Vancouver has been one of my dreams for a while. So when I was at Moab Munifest last March, and my fellow team member Ryan Kremsater invited me and the other riders of our little camp to come to his hometown after Unicon 17, I responded with an immediate yes.

Five month later here we were, eight people from all around the globe, with bulky unicycle luggage, tired but happy after Unicon, now looking forward to even more adventures. And Ryan was prepared. First thing he did after we arrived, was to show us the wood structures he had build to ride in his backyard.

Woodworks in Ryan's backyard

Tom doesn't know what to think

Naturally, we were intimidated. Ryan ensured us that we’d be fine, and took us to one of his favorite riding spots: Woodlot. While we climbed the logging road to the trail head, the sun started sinking.

We descended on Blood Donor and Shot Gun, impressed by the woodwork that was almost impossible to ride because it had been raining earlier. Though that didn’t stop Ryan from showing us off a little.

Ryan Kremsater

The next day, Ryan took us on Wild Cherry and Wades Trail on Cypress mountain. We were so focused on keeping mosquitos from our sweaty bodies, that we completely forgot to take photos. But we did start to get accustomed to the terrain and wood structures.

Continue reading Vancouver & The North Shores

Back in the Dolomites

Two years after Lutz and I climbed and rode down Cima Ombretta Orientale (see the video here), we found ourselves talking about how it was the most beautiful mountain we had ever been on. So we decided to go and climb that 3011m high peak in the Dolomites again. No cameras this time, but instead the best camping chef in the world: Jesper Andersen.

The winter in this part of the Alps had been cold and long this year and we knew we were going to have to cross some snow fields and might not even be able to see the summit. But we decided to drive down to Italy and give it a try. Even the weather forecast showing nothing but small icons of grey clouds and grey clouds with rain couldn’t stop us. We are brave adventurers, we thought. So we packed everything we’d need for two days in our backpacks and waved good bye to our green little van.

Soon we realized, it was indeed rather snowy. (The bivouac hut we planned on sleeping at is behind the black rocks in the very back center of this photo.)


Ladies and gentlemen, this is Jesper. He is 1,90m tall.


We made it over the snow fields and found the bivouac just as we remembered it from two years ago. It felt almost like coming back to a beloved week end house.



Should we try to bring our unis on the summit?

Continue reading Back in the Dolomites

This One Time, at Einradcamp…

One week of camping, riding, jumping into the lake and camp fires every night – sounds like a dream come true, right? Directly after our roadtrip in the Karwendel AlpsScott and I went to Rottenburg in the south of Germany to attend Einradcamp.

Freestyle, trials, flatland and street, all in one day, plus some bridge jumping and lots of time to hang out around the camping stove, make new friends, play UNO and organize cruel piggy back races  – it was hard to imagine that there was normal life to get back to afterwards.

Thank you Axel, for being the hero of this convention.







Continue reading This One Time, at Einradcamp…

Tales from the Karwendel Alps

Those first minutes of a roadtrip, when everything is finally packed, you’re spitting cherry seeds out of the window and wonder about the adventures you are going to have in the next couple of days.

When Benedikt Soja, Lutz Eichholz, Scott Wilton and I took off for our trip to the Karwendel Alps near Innsbruck, Austria this June, we had no idea. No idea, that the trails were going to be so perfect. No idea, that on the first day, we’d lose Ben’s precious muni on a steep slope in the forest. And no idea, that we’d have to call a helicopter to get Scott back down from the mountain. In the end, all turned out well and we consider ourselves very lucky, not only because we have such great road trip buddies, who can live in a tiny van peacefully even after days without a shower.

We focused on filming rather than taking photos this time, so here are some snap shots and a short video recap:

Check out Ben’s cool shirt.

Three fusion zeros checking out the view.

That moment when Scott turned into an angel at the peak.

Camera boy Lutz.

Continue reading Tales from the Karwendel Alps

A Camera, a Unicycle, and a Dress

Sometimes, things just effortlessly come together and turn into something great. When Hendrik from Ajata asked me if I had a great freestyle photo to show off the new Ajata Agravic Fork, I told him, “No, but I can take some.” So I caught up with Jascha Eidam, a Berlin-based photographer who had taken some great muni photos of Ben Soja and me last fall. Back then, we had made a rough plan of doing another photo shoot with that white dress.

A couple of days later, there we were, during the golden hour, in the middle of boys playing basketball and bicyclists passing through on their way home. Jascha had his flashlight and his camera, I had my dress and my unicycle. And in the end, everything perfectly worked out.

Thank you, Jascha. Thank you, Ajata.

Photo: Jascha Eidam

Photo: Jascha Eidam

Photo: Jascha Eidam

Photo: Jascha Eidam

Continue reading A Camera, a Unicycle, and a Dress

At Home In Israel

What is it that makes a place feel like home? When your bed is thousands of miles away, the air is full of unfamiliar sounds, everything feels and smells different and you haven’t spoken your mother tongue in days? It is possible. I just got back from a week-long trip to Israel, hardly knew any of the people I met before and never stayed at one place more than a night. But I did feel at home every second. Here’s how.

One day after my return from Moab in March, I received a message from Raffi Vitis, inviting me to come to the Israeli Unicycling Convention he was organizing. We had a quick talk on the phone, I checked my schedule and before I knew the flight was booked. Life is easy sometimes. A little more than a month later I walked through the gate at the Tel Aviv airport and found Raffi and Márk Fábián waiting for me. Márk is an amazing trials rider from Hungary and was the other foreign guest at the convention. I had briefly met each of them before at other conventions – long enough to know this week would be a fun one.

In the car, Raffi told us the plan for the week. The convention would start the next day and until then we could spend some time in Tel Aviv. After the convention, we would be staying with the families of some uni riders all over the country. Ten minutes later Raffi dropped us of in the middle of Tel Aviv where Danni and his son Eyal were waiting for us. They had only heard of our existence the night before and had agreed to host us for the night. Half an hour and a delicious falafel later Eyal introduced us to his city.

The next day, Márk and I explored the city on our own. We went to the sea, had lots of fresh fruit juice and were amazed by the flora we found all over the city.

Continue reading At Home In Israel

Three epic days in Moab

There is certain magic that lies upon the trails of Moab. You follow a path made of red soil, large rocks and loose rocks. You’re constantly concentrated, using the muscles of your legs, arms and back to fly over the without losing balance. With the flow, you start feeling the joy, you pedal faster and try something you’ve never done before, a higher drop or an incredibly technical and exposed section. You stay on the wheel. You ride on, stay focused, and keep your muscles tense. Until it happens: you weren’t focused for a millisecond, the pressure on your pedal was just a tiny bit too weak, you try keep the balance but it’s too late. Your legs need to run to keep up with the speed you are moving at. You slow down, you stop, you are trying to catch your breath. You turn around to pick up your uni, but the beauty surrounding you catches your eyes. And you pause. You look at the wide canyons, the red rocks, the towers and arches, the formations formed in a long passed chapter of this planet. You take a deep breath. You turn, grab your uni and hurry down the trail. 

Last weekend I had the chance to participate in Moab Munifest, a classic amongst the mountain unicycling conventions. It had been on my list for a while, so last month, during my incredibly fun stay at Tenerife, I decided to simply book a flight and do it. I teamed up with Benoit Gonneville Damme, a rider from Montreal (who also organizes Unicon 17, the next unicycle world championships this summer) to extend the weekend to a weeklong adventure and make it worth the long flight.

We met up in Denver and went riding in the smaller mountains of the region, which weren’t completely covered in snow. We did some fun rides, went to Mallory Cave and the Dinosaur Mountain outside of Boulder, went up the Northern Table Mountain of Golden and had excellent snow riding conditions on Bergen Park Trail outside of Evergreen. I had never seen mountains like these before, very high but yet delicately formed and constantly imagined cowboys on horses exploring these wild lands. In the evenings we returned to Denver, where we were staying with Anne and Marco, the most lovable hosts one can imagine. Marco just recently got into unicycling and spontaneously invited us to stay at their house when he heard we were coming to the area. Every night a delicious home cooked meal and warm conversations about culture and politics were waiting for us. We also made friends with their joyful son José, who is four years old and turns out to be a big fan of balloon animals and hats.

North Table Mountain, Golden. Photo by Benoit Gonneville Damme

Bergen Peak


On Thursday before the convention, Benoit and I met up with Max Schulze, who is also a member of the KH Factory Team, Jacob Spera and Jenni Rinker. With Max’ car packed to the roof with gear and camping equipment, we drove through the Rocky Mountains in the dark. When we arrived at Slickrock Campground in Moab later that night, we were happy none of our unicycles had fallen off the bike rack in the back, pitched our tents in the dark and soon crawled into our fluffy sleeping bags.


When I awoke the next morning, I found the campground to be surrounded by huge red sandstone hills, which kept the valley in the shadow and the air cold and crisp. Continue reading Three epic days in Moab

The sensation of tricking gravity

Something about freestyle doesn’t let me go. That feeling of gliding, rolling and spinning through the air so smoothly. Of shaping a skill to perfection with hundreds and thousands of tries. The sensation of tricking gravity when coasting on the slick asphalt, being connected to the ground through nothing but tiniest and most fragile touch points.

As much as I love the mountains and riding in wild nature, I will always be drawn back to the artsy, out of this world perfection of freestyle riding.

All photos by Joy Opitz taken at Tempelhofer Feld, Berlin.

Photo by Joy OpitzPhoto by Joy OpitzPhoto by Joy Opitz Photo by Joy Opitz Photo by Joy Opitz