Loisium-to-Loisium Unsupported Bikepacking (powered by Odlo)

Prologue: The thing with the Loisium, according to rumors, was a tipsy story. Not its invention in the early 2000s in the deep, branched cellars of Langenlois—that is documented as an event with plenty of wine accompaniment and thus a fact. But our visit there last April.
And as is well known, tipsy stories lead to memory gaps. Consequently, we can't really reconstruct when this story began. Was it already during the aforementioned spring visit to the wine hotel in Kamptal, when we decided to return as soon as possible? A little later in the year, when Bikeboard was to become a communication partner and jury member for a photo competition by Odlo? Or in the height of summer, when our training diaries remained emptier as the editorial calendar became fuller, and we all longed for a few more self-earned kilometers?

In any case: We soon swapped the intended role as jurors for one as team applicants and successfully applied for the Odlo Freewheeling Photo Competition.
Our idea: a bikepacking trip from the Loisium Südsteiermark in Ehrenhausen on the Wine Road through the Mürzsteger and Türnitzer Alps to the Loisium Langenlois in Lower Austria; to be completed within four days and without car support, according to the (original) competition conditions.
Even if we should come up empty-handed in terms of prize money: Around 300 hopefully fine gravel kilometers would certainly be ours on the autumn credit account.

It must be nice up here. At least the pictures on the wall tell stories of lush alpine meadows, sunny deck chairs, gentle mountain ridges, and nearby summit bliss. Mockingly joking, we bring up Odlo's current campaign motto: "There's more out there" ...
Outside the window, none of this is visible. Dense fog lies so heavy and leaden over the land that visibility is no more than 20 meters. Our bikes parked in front of the house are only vaguely discernible. The moisture in the air drips heavily from the handlebars, saddles, and bags, like a cold causing a runny nose.
But who needs the sun when there's the crackling warmth of a real wood stove? And who will long for blue skies when a friendly, bright room beckons?

With a warm "Griaß eich, kemmt's eina!" (Greetings, come on in!), hut keeper Manuela welcomed us to the Turnaueralm and immediately pointed out places and possibilities where and how we could dry our sweat-soaked base layers, damp gloves, and wet shirts.
According to our preliminary research, the only certainly open refreshment stop on our third day stage from Aflenz to Annaberg, the shelter house located in the high Styrian Almenland at an altitude of 1,385 meters, revealed itself as a true stroke of luck at this moment.
Like aging cats warming their backs, we now sit around the tiled stove. Every chair back is draped with our clothing items, every stove tile dries a different accessory.

We, that is, besides author NoMan, photographer NoSane, who is also in charge of route planning, GPS data, Garmin quirks, and the app jungle; wine connoisseur Mister M, who in his day job as head of the Loisium Bikewelt is responsible for their two-wheeled Trek fleet and its service and rental, as well as beer connoisseur NoPain. The man can click together and pay for breakfast for three at the Schachtelwirt faster than others can find the ordering terminal, thus recommending himself as the ideal choice for room booking and material procurement.

Together, the trio of men had orchestrated everything organizationally in advance, while the writer of these lines enjoyed being the idle token woman: The bikes were reserved at the Loisium in time and perfectly prepared, from the saddle height and the desired pedal to the ideal tire. The rest of the equipment was ordered, received, and checked early enough. The route was carefully planned and divided into four digestible, seemingly doable Komoot segments. And finally, the hotels were partially checked in advance so that we could at least once rely on a washing machine and dryer along the way.

Even when Komoot sent us over rough gravel and crushed bricks into the dense underbrush, the respective frontman barely slowed down. Because the clouds remained low and the light was sparse. The goal was to be at the quarters by 5:00 PM, if we didn't want to arrive in the dark on the very first day.
In the "Gralla District," this almost became our undoing due to unsecured pits dug right in the middle of the forest. "The Unexpected!" grinned Michi from the deep hole that suddenly opened up in front of us around a curve.
At kilometer 35, there was more fodder for Odlo's first of four competition categories: a flat tire for NoMan, truly unexpected given the finest Prosecco Gravels at hand. But why have a professional mechanic on the team otherwise?
Still: "If we continue at this pace, we'll have eight more flats before Langenlois," NoSane quipped.

Klack, klack. Rtsch. Drrr." Done. Because the panniers, which were actually intended for commuting, seemed a bit too wobbly on the terrain, we quickly fastened them securely to the racks using cable ties.
Instead of just marching with the Contec LIM Double, we therefore each went to the rooms and back out in the morning with the Ortlieb Quick-Rack. The clever quick-release fasteners on the latter made it possible.

Overnight stay No. 1 in the inn decorated conspicuously with Ferrari memorabilia and sumptuous antiques had not revealed any major omissions. Toothbrushes, underwear, street shoes, visual aids - everything had emerged in sufficient numbers or quantities from the depths of the bags and sacks.
Assuming occasional opportunities to do laundry by hand or machine, we could spend several weeks this way. A fascinating realization that strongly called into question the sensibility of the overflowing closets at home.

As quickly as our luggage was mounted, we were delayed by digital matters. But finally, all Instagram stories were told and all GPX files transferred, and we were ready for day two.
Those who wanted to, followed the line and arrows on the navigation device, while others relied on their fellow riders, orienting themselves alternatively by rear wheels or calls. Device settings in two different zoom levels ensured that we didn't miss any detours, yet didn't blindly follow every gravel-increasing suggestion. After all, 90 kilometers and 1,090 meters in altitude separated us from the stage destination Aflenz. A bit of monitoring couldn't hurt to maintain a buffer for potential breakdowns or bouts of weakness. Especially since it was agreed to ride slower this time. The legs felt a bit heavy for day two.

Passing west of Graz, we continued straight north, over Frohnleiten, Bruck an der Mur, and Kapfenberg into Upper Styria, to the foot of the Hochschwab. Sounds like uphill, and it was in the last quarter.
Before that, we gained our altitude mostly unnoticed going upstream. R2, R5, and R13 signs guided us for large parts of the way, with the Seeberg bike path officially closed through the Thörlgraben, which apparently used to be quite fortified, for unspecified reasons. When we had to briefly divert to the Mariazeller Straße in the narrow breakthrough valley due to some fallen rocks or a missing bridge, we understood why.

Before this increasingly alpine river journey along the Mur, Mürz, and Thörlbach, a detour into the western Styrian hill country awaited. Boldly, the inclination sensors pointed upwards from the start and then downwards again, as surprisingly modest houses nestled idyllically against mountain ridges, meadow slopes, and winding roads.
Bet you anything that in good visibility, a true sea of waves of forest hills opens up here, with its certainly magnificent autumnal colors splashing up to the edges of terraces and front gardens. But: We moved once again through dense, impenetrable fog and were visually limited to what unfolded right before our eyes. And that was, with all due respect, not much.

Only Rabenstein brought, as the ground-level mists finally lifted a little, not just visual variety into play: an ancient castle with a futuristic glass box jutting out from a rock nose, a rotating panoramic lift, and heat pumps - if that's not a worthy location for the next Bikeboard party!
Immediately afterward, Frohnleiten knew how to please. A grand approach via a car-free bridge, a huge, picturesque main square with plenty of seating and dining options. We almost became weak and considered waiting here for the sun that Erwin had promised since early morning. But then we cranked up the odometer, passing Bärenschützklamm and Drachenhöhle Mixnitz, Hochalpe and Fischbacher Alps, until we noticeably climbed up to the planned coffee break in Bruck.

It should not have stayed with just one coffee and cake on this day. Not counting the goodies from Winforce that taste like chocolate, berries, or peanut butter, we each had three.
But that's just how it is when you check into a confectionery as an overnight stay more than just in time. Then, barely showered, you need the first compensation for the calories burned in the hours before. And if the time until dinner still feels long and the next day's stage destination still needs to be discussed or the hotel checked, you simply go down the steps to the cafe once more...

One full moon night later, we stepped out onto the balcony with justified optimism. "Aflenz: clear" was written in black and white in the ORF weather report. However, reality immediately proved the information from Küniglberg to be false. Because clear in the meteorological sense was exactly nothing here. Rather, the village, spa park, Bürgeralpe, and everything around were once again buried under dense ground fog.
So once more, in addition to the surprisingly universal Odlo fabric in short or long, we put on warming layers underneath and on top, as well as indispensable additions like long gloves and protective caps. Just not too thick this time, because first, we would soon be going uphill. And second, "we'll be lying in the sun on the alpine pasture in two hours," Erwin assured us completely convinced.
We were fine with that. A queen stage with only 67 kilometers but a whopping 1,850 meters of elevation gain would suit a pleasant little break in the warm mountain air just fine.

Instead, we experience a gravel ride that couldn't be more epic: hoisting our heavily loaded steeds together over fallen trees and steep embankments - calmly noting that what slows us down a bit inevitably stops the hunter's Suzuki; rejoicing like mad when finally, if only briefly, the clouds part and the Hohe Veitsch comes into view; having to stop in the middle of a particularly challenging downhill to cool the brakes and shake out our fingers; literally floating over soft forest floor and clattering over bone-rattling rough terrain; making use of every (rare) meter of asphalt to gobble down gels and bars and savor the smooth rolling; enthusiastically welcoming the first real rays of sunshine on the banks of the Walster just before Hubertussee; cursing our way through steep hollow paths, slippery leaves, and over more tree trunks; when eventually nothing works anymore, we fill our water bottles with fresh stream water and fairly share a chocolate with pumpkin-marzipan filling acquired in Loisium Südsteiermark.

Still 102 kilometers and 570 meters of elevation separate us from our final tour destination the next morning. But even if it were twice as many, the workload would seem like a breeze to us. Everything is easier in the sun!
Because we first whiz 20 kilometers downhill from the Türnitzer Alps into the flat Traisental, we dress as if it's winter - and end up freezing more than on any previous day. Because 5°C downhill on the road bike is just freezing cold, blue sky or dry roads notwithstanding.

In Türnitz, we switch from the Mariazellerstraße to the railway cycle path. Its nine kilometers to Freiland offer a really great riding experience on the railway line that was closed in 2001, past remaining waiting shelters and station signs, through illuminated tunnels and over former railway bridges.
Afterwards, we connect to the Traisental cycle path. As solitary as our route was yesterday, we now move continuously through settlement areas. However, always a bit around the back, sideways past, along the edge, so that despite constantly glimpsing roofs, walls, and fences, the impression is created of riding through greenery. "Urban Gravelbiking" at its finest!

The guests at the restaurant in the Ursin Haus on Kornplatz have no idea where we come from or who we are. Nevertheless, they seem like interested fans to us as we pass them as stylishly as possible while zipping through the roundabout at Kornplatz.
The Loisium visitors, who are boarding their tour bus in front of the wine world just as we arrive, know even less about what drives us. And yet, we give them a quiet, triumphant smile.

We haven't achieved any athletic feat. We haven't set any records. We haven't tackled any particularly difficult route or defied any specific danger.
But we completed our entire journey with remarkable routine, calmness, and solidarity. In return, everything went like clockwork: no defects, injuries, planning errors, or delays. We had fun. And we almost didn't break anything.
We can confidently raise a glass to that. Cheers!

As a little surprise, Michi from the wine shop brought not a region-typical Grüner Veltliner, but a very fine Pinot Noir. Along with sandwiches and from the author a flea in the ear: "Do you remember that the second Loisium is supposed to open in France in 2026? Champagne - Alsace. Well, how about it ...?