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Tile Hunting: The Risks and Rewards of the Chase

By Jiri Kaloc

At its core, tile hunting is about more than just collecting squares. It’s a way to turn riding into a game, to give your kilometres a different purpose outside of fitness. It can push you to explore, but it can also become an obsession. Let’s take a look at the risks and rewards of tile hunting and how to strike a balance.

The motivation to hunt

Tile hunting is growing in popularity, and I think it’s because it appeals to people for different reasons – it scratches a new itch. I can see three distinct reasons why people get interested in tile hunting.

First, and probably the most common, is the appeal to the completionist inside of us. It’s satisfying to see the map expand over time. It’s like a little game you get to play before you go on a ride by planning your route, and then right after the “hunt”, when you can review the collected tiles. The urge to cover your home town or region with claimed tiles is hard to resist.

Second, it’s a different way to compete. Let’s be honest, being competitive in cycling races or even hunting for Strava segments is reserved mostly for the fittest and fastest of us. Tile hunting brings competition to so many more people. You don’t have to be the fastest or strongest rider in your group. But if you put in the time and plan your routes well, you can rise through the ranks.

And finally, tile hunting gives you a great way to visualise your adventures. Opening a map of your region, or even the world, you can immediately see how much you’ve explored. It reveals your blind spots and gives you an excuse to visit places you may have otherwise skipped.

Unexpected rewards

Visiting new places is at the core of tile hunting. Almost by definition, the journey is the destination. And what you discover along the way is what makes tile hunting so refreshing.

You’ll find yourself on abandoned roads, hidden trails, and weird little neighbourhoods you never knew existed. Instead of sticking to the same old routes, you’re constantly scanning maps for gaps, detours, and unexplored areas. I’ve found that riding through streets with little bicycle traffic leads to more random encounters and conversations with locals. It simply adds more colour to the world I’m riding through.

I always enjoyed planning routes, but since discovering tile hunting. I spend so much more time planning routes now that I’ve simply gotten better at it. Plus, I also became quite proficient at reading the map on my Garmin. The constant need to check the map and make quick decisions before missing a turn is great practice.

Finding balance

Tile hunting is fun until it isn’t. The line between passion and obsession is thinner than you think. You start optimising every ride for tiles, skipping scenic detours because they don’t contribute to your max square or turning group rides into solo missions because your friends don’t want to zigzag through neighbourhoods. Suddenly, what was supposed to be fun feels like a checklist.

The biggest risk is losing the joy of riding. When every kilometre is measured by tiles collected rather than experiences had, it’s time to step back. There’s also the social cost. Your riding buddies might not share your obsession, and losing touch with your cycling friends isn’t worth it. The key is finding a balance, hunt tiles when it makes sense, but don’t let it ruin the ride for yourself or others.

My 4 personal tile hunting rules

Since I live in Prague, pretty much the centre of Europe with no ocean in sight, I’m focusing on building the largest possible square. I’m having a lot of fun, but I can sense that it’s bordering on obsession. To prevent tile hunting from turning into a chore, I set myself the following rules:

Fun first: If there’s a group ride I want to do, that takes priority over tile hunting. Or if I see a cool route on Strava, I’ll ride it even if it doesn’t collect many tiles. Maybe I’ll tweak it slightly to grab a nearby tile, but the ride itself comes first.

No weird detours with others: If I’m planning a route to ride with friends, I will try to hit some tiles, but I avoid obvious tile-hunting zigzags or backtracking that make the route feel unnatural.

Tile hunting while training: If I’m doing intervals or hill training, I prioritise the workout first. After that, I optimise the rest of the route for tiles if possible.

All-out tile hunts: When I’m riding solo with no other goals, I build the route around collecting missing tiles to expand my max square. I try to avoid backtracking and zigzagging, but if there’s no other way, I’ll do it.

I enjoy the route planning challenge, the competition, the random discoveries on the way, and the completionist thrill of seeing my square grow. Tile hunting gamified my outdoor activities, and I love it. It’s probably why I got sucked into it so quickly. But like any obsession, it’s all about balance. I’m trying to make sure chasing tiles enhances my rides and doesn’t replace the joy of the journey itself.

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