Category: Uncategorized

  • Onto the big plateau

    Onto the big plateau

    Cusco

    Cusco had been a city I’d been looking forward to for a long time. Great food, a few rest days, a beautiful place and last minute, Steven decided to come over and join me for cycling.

    The first days of rest were all about one thing: rest, eat, repeat. I love days like those. Over the years I’ve learned to allow myself to do absolutely nothing, and to fully enjoy it. After a few days I went climbing in a local boulder gym. I love climbing, and wherever I get the chance, I’ll find a gym or a local crag. Then Steven arrived, and we were both eager to visit Machu Picchu, something we just couldn’t skip now that we were here. It didn’t disappoint. The whole area is simply amazing!

    I took a week off the bike, and after our visit to Machu Picchu, we set off again. The first part was easy, and I was looking forward to this gentler cycling. From here on, it’s mostly flat at least compared to what I’ve done before. We made easy progress on these roads, climbing bit by bit up to the Altiplano.

    The climb up was very gradual, but over 4000m everything gets hard. At first the roads were busy, but the higher we got, the calmer and quieter it became. After a couple of days we reached Lake Titicaca at around 3,800 metres, where we decided to take a day off. We ate well, enjoyed the views, and took a boat tour on the lake before heading out towards the Bolivian border.

    Bolivia

    Crossing into Bolivia was easy, and I was excited to enter the 51st country of this project! After buying a local SIM card and exchanging money, we continued on. Cycling across the plateau was easier, though a slight side headwind wasn’t helping much. The next days brought long, straight roads, and we had to plan snacks and water supplies carefully. We were entering the desert and loving the solitude. Still, the scenery changed daily, and we soaked in every view.

    Just before the Salar de Uyuni, we took a detour I’d been looking forward to for a long time. It meant an extra day of cycling, but crossing the biggest salt flats in the world on my bicycle had been on my list for years.

    Salty Sheep

    Crossing the Salar wasn’t going to be easy. Both of us were tired, and the winds were expected to be strong against us on the first day. We left early to reach the main island in the Salar before the afternoon winds picked up. Thankfully, we made it just in time. That first day was incredible seeing the flats stretch endlessly, hearing the crunch of salt under our wheels, feeling the calm and solitude of being surrounded by a completely white landscape.

    On the island we waited until evening to set up camp. There we met Laura, who was cycling solo across South America. It’s always great to meet fellow cyclists and share our highs and lows. Camping on the salt flats was unreal: the sunset, the stars, the sunrise, all breathtaking.

    After dinner, from inside my tent, I suddenly felt the urge to cycle. I went out under the stars, pedalling freely on this vast, silent space. A bit later, Steven joined me. I told him I felt like a happy kid, my inner child is happy: no pressure, no distance, no goals, just spinning around on this desert of salt. Like a child amazed by the world around him. He said he’d been thinking exactly the same thing. It’s something I learned in the past years and still have to think about once in a while: take care of your inner child!

    The next day we took it easy. With tailwinds behind us, we covered the final 100 km across the flats to Uyuni. But first we continued a long tradition, riding naked over the vastness of the Salar… In Uyuni we planned to rest again and Fien would be joining me for a couple of weeks. Fien is a good friend from university and she was there when I got the whole crazy idea to do the human powered seven summits. From Uyuni Steven will cycle further alone as planned, I’m very grateful to have so much company. His visit helped me to enjoy the whole trip a lot more again! So I’m very motivated again and looking forward to cycling with Fien and I’m getting mentally ready to climb Aconcagua!

    Many thanks to my sponsors who make this adventure possible!

  • KOM: King of the mountain

    KOM: King of the mountain

    After weeks of riding through the remote heart of the Andes, I finally approached the end of the toughest part of my route across Peru. From Huaraz to Cusco, the road tested my legs and patience, endless climbs, freezing nights, and thin air above 4000 meters. But little by little, I could feel the rhythm returning, and the mountains start to feel like home again.

    The top of the hill

    After about two weeks of cycling from Huaraz, I reached Huancavelica. This was almost the end of the main difficulties. Just before arriving, I crossed one of the last 4800m passes on my bike. I realised that this might be the last + 4800m pass I’ll ever do on a bicycle in my life… so I told myself: you better enjoy it! Although it’s not easy, I’ve learned over many years of adventuring to appreciate the things around me, even while suffering.

    A cold on top

    In Huancavelica, I took a day off. The many hard days of cycling and a cold that didn’t seem to end forced me to rest for a while. Still, I knew the journey wasn’t finished yet. The endless up and downhills weren’t over, and I knew that until Cusco, it would still be quite a struggle. Despite my cold, I was making good progress on the bike.

    Huancavelica felt strange and nice at the same time. There were many food options and a comfortable bed, but it was also strange to suddenly see so many people again. I felt like a stranger after weeks on remote roads and through small villages. It’s a feeling that returns often the transition from solitude to a busy town always takes some adjustment.

    A not so bumpy ride

    After my rest day, I felt motivated again to tackle the last hard stretch to Cusco. It was still a long way with plenty of elevation gain, but at least most of it was on asphalt roads. I feared there would be a lot of traffic, but in the end it was better than expected. Except for the part just before Ayacucho, that was horrible.

    Mostly, riding here is good, but when I see how people drive, it can feel as if they have no sense of danger. It frustrates me to see that people are reckless not only with their own lives but also with those of others. The contrast with the peaceful countryside couldn’t be bigger. Add many aggressive dogs along the way, and you’re in for a stressful ride now and then. You really have to stay alert all the time.

    Cruising along

    Still, despite some obstacles and (maybe thanks to) a few personal challenges, I made steady progress toward Cusco. More and more, I found myself enjoying the ride again. I felt freer in my head and stronger every day. One day, while cycling up to a 4200m mountain pass, I felt like I could keep pushing hard all the way to the top. That feeling of endless energy is amazing and I had really missed it.

    Now in Cusco, I feel my body is ready for the next part, and I’m definitely getting into shape for the mountain to come. I’m taking a few days off to recover, as I still have a bit of a cough. The good news is that Steven is joining me until the end of October on the bike. We’ve done several cycling trips together already, so I’m really looking forward to sharing the road with him again.

    By the end of the month, Fien will join as well, so I’m feeling very confident that I’ll soon be physically and mentally ready to climb the 6th of the Secutec Seven Summits!

    But first: rest, relax, sightseeing, and maybe a bit of rock climbing too…

    Reaching Cusco feels like a small victory, a pause between two big chapters. The road from Huaraz tested my patience, my lungs, and my legs, but it also reminded me how much I love this rhythm of moving every day. Soon, the focus will shift to the mountain, and the next stage of this journey begins. For now, I’m enjoying the calm before the climb.

    Many thanks to my sponsors who make this crazy dream possible ! Secutec has just extended their sponsorship, since 2016 I’m having the best sponsor I could imagine. They celebrated their 20th anniversary a couple of weeks ago and proud to be part of the team!

  • Peru divide part 2, good company

    Peru divide part 2, good company

    Cedric and I decided to start together and see where we end up. The climb starts very steep and takes us up to 4800m. A rough ride but we made it up. The descent is thrilling and by the time we are down we get a hailstorm on us. We wait it out a bit and continue riding after that to find a good place to camp higher up. The next day we take our own rhythm, but meet again in the same place to have dinner and some conversations. The third day of cycling together Cedric stays in the place we have lunch and I carry on. 

    Do you understand?

    It was nice to have some company and great to be meeting other cyclists.

    It’s nice to meet other cyclists on the road, I’ve met an Australian couple, an English cyclist and Cedric by now. The thing is, I like to give an insight of what it’s like to be doing things like this. But it’s hard to feel really understood. Except for these cyclists. I see them and they see me, we all know we’re going through the same hassle. A couple of days ago I met Marina for just 10 minutes. She had a broken brake, she was tired and had a long climb ahead. She started to cry. I immediately understood why, it’s something that happens to me once in a while too here. You’re tired, cold, sick,… and it just gets too much. It’s just very important to show those emotions and not keep them constantly to yourself (in the right place of course). Things like this help me not to feel lonely or go crazy when I’m alone on the road. The same goes for those times at home…

    Alone at the top

    After Cedric and I split up I get going up again, this time for the highest pass I’ll be cycling on this trip. After a full morning of cycling uphill I reach 4910 m. I enjoy the view, the calm weather and appreciate the downhill a lot! A recent call with a friend helped me remember how I keep myself going on projects like this. I’m not going to lie, this is hard and after 12 years, sometimes I’m sick of it. I’m struggling more to find motivation, and although I will finish this, I wanted to get my joy back. She asked me to think of something I could look forward to in the near future. It made me think and realise that usually I focus on small progress. Small things to be grateful for, like food, a place to sleep, a shower… But sometimes I’m trapped in this tunnel vision looking at details and small things. Then it helps me to zoom out, what am I doing here? I’m cycling in Peru! In all this beauty, looking around! I’m fulfilling my dream! Talking about this helped me find my motivation back and enjoying this more. So then again, grateful for that conversation. 

    Gratitude

    I took a couple of longer days in the mountains and I got rewarded with the most amazing views! The diversity of this country is beyond words and I’m finding myself getting emotional again from time to time. Just to be able to see all this beauty and be able to experience that is so special.

  • Peru divide part 1

    Peru divide part 1

    The day my brother left I got food poisoning and I stayed an extra day in Huaraz to recover from that. The next couple of weeks I’d be cycling alone to Bolivia, where Fien will be coming to join me. For this section there’s the famous Peru Divide. A bikepacking trail that takes you to remote places and high (up to 4900m) passes.

    The sound of silence

    Getting out of Huaraz was easier than getting in. Traffic wasn’t that bad and gradually I was climbing my way up to more remote places. The first challenge was a mountain pass up to 4800 m by the Nevado Pastoruri. It took me a while to get up there, without seeing anyone else. The weather got colder and an occasional shower of hail hit me. Finding camp spots was easy, no one around and water everywhere. The silence was deafening, but the solitude felt good. Perfect to process everything from the past weeks. I felt alone yet alive, no distractions, just me and my thoughts and feelings. 

    The long shortcut

    After the very long descent I thought about making a “small” variation to the Peru divide. I saw that the Huayhuash trek is nearby and I cycled in the rain to Tupac Amaru, yes that’s a village here! From there it’s hike-a-bike up to the national park. I hoped that many sections would be rideable but I was wrong! Mostly I’m carrying and pushing the bike up steep rocky sections, but enjoying the amazing views. It takes me about 2 very hard days to get back on the normal circuit. I even had to climb over 2 fences and convince a guard of a dam to let me through… Just before the last mountain pass at about 4700m I end up in a storm. It’s always scary to be in your tent, when there’s lightning and thunder. After an hour it settles down and there’s a fresh layer of snow around. 

    Back on track

    Back on the normal track of the Peru divide it became easier to ride again. Not easy at all with all the up and downhill on gravel roads, but at least I could ride my bike. After an hour riding in the rain I arrive in Parqiun, a village before a very long climb. When I arrive I see another cyclist on the main plaza. Cedric is a cyclist from France heading the same direction. There’s a couple of locals drinking because it’s Sunday. They’re really nice and offer their help and support. I get my dinner and go to sleep in the park, the next day I’m expecting a long climb. 

    Read more in part 2

  • Denali part 1

    Denali part 1

    Rest and Preparation

    A couple of days rest were enough to get us very eager to climb higher on the mountain! In basecamp, we met other climbers, though none were there to climb Denali. We dug up our food caches and tried to pack all our supplies for the next three weeks on the mountain. Julien had a new mattress flown in after his started to delaminate, while I finally managed to repair a small puncture in mine.

    Julien digging the cache

    Marc De Keyser from weather4expeditions.com started sending us daily weather updates simply because he believed in our project, thanks so much for that! After enjoying some good food and much needed recovery, we headed back up the mountain.

    Strategy and First Rotations

    Our plan was to take our heavy sleds as high as possible, making rotations to acclimatise and conserve energy. On the first day, conditions were ideal, the snow was firm, preventing our sleds from sinking. We made excellent progress and soon arrived at Camp 1. Thanks to our 10-day trek into the mountain instead of flying in, we felt strong and efficient as a team.

    The next day, we moved up to Camp 2 with relative ease, buried some food, and continued toward Camp 3. Just before reaching it, we left the Kahiltna Glacier, a special moment as we had now traversed its full length. The final stretch to Camp 3 was tougher, with icy conditions requiring us to attach ski crampons. Leading a steeper and icy section, I suddenly lost grip due to the sled’s pull and fell. Fear surged through me at the thought of dragging Julien down, but I managed to roll over and arrest my fall. A bit shaken but relieved, we reached Camp 3 and carefully searched for a safe campsite, avoiding crevasses and avalanche prone terrain. After another hour of digging a platform and building protective walls, we settled in.

    early morning after camp 1
    the whole glacier we crossed!
    Some frustrations heading up ski hill
    just buried our cache
    almost up to camp 3
    making camp 3
    protected (for now)

    The following day, we retrieved the supplies we had buried at Camp 2 and returned to Camp 3, ready for the next stage.

    Perfect Timing

    Marc’s weather updates were crucial in planning our ascent. Making the right decisions was mentally difficult, especially with no one else on the mountain, no trails, no platforms, just us and the elements. We pushed for Camp 3 ahead of worsening weather, hoping to climb above the clouds and benefit from the sun and calmer conditions. Somehow, we managed to stay above the clouds most of the time, and our timing was spot on.

    protected from some wind
    relaxing above the clouds

    From Camp 3, we could see Motorcycle Hill. It didn’t look too technical at first glance, but it was icy. After navigating the hard ice and snow with heavy sleds, we reached the top within an hour. “This is why we love this,” Julien said as we saw the beautiful views.

    Up motorcycle hill

    Next came Squirrel Hill, a steep and icy traverse where our sleds constantly pulled us sideways. Each step needed to be taken carefully to avoid being pulled off balance. Falling here would be disastrous, but thankfully, there were no crevasses.

    Windy Corner, known for its high winds, was our next challenge. The ice was blue and hard, making foot placement difficult while our sleds pulled us sideways. I was leading and felt immense pressure, any mistake could be fatal. At one point, I stepped onto what looked like firm snow, only to sink in waist-deep. A small crevasse fall, but still very scary. My heavy sled pulled me sideways, making it tricky to escape. Staying calm, I assessed my situation while Julien encouraged me. Eventually, I crawled out, and we carefully crossed Windy Corner. Relieved but aware that we’d have to face it again, we pressed on.

    just getting out of the crevasse
    buried our cache past windy corner

    We navigated a few more crevasse fields before reaching a gentle, sunny slope where we buried our supplies before heading all the way back down to Camp 3, exhausted but satisfied with our progress.

    back down to camp 3
    exhaleusted

    Pushing Higher

    The next day, we left Camp 3 with really heavy packs, we left our sleds and skis in camp to avoid the sidepulling struggle. While physically harder, it made the ascent much easier. We passed Windy Corner with more confidence despite the cold wind and finally arrived at Camp 4. After another hour of digging and building walls, we felt great and closer to the summit. We spotted the next section of the route to camp 5, we’re almost there!

    the view from camp 4
    probing for a good camp spot

    After a good night’s rest, we retrieved our buried supplies and spent the afternoon making our walls stronger. It felt like being kids again, building a snow fortress, but this time against the fierce storms that could hit at any moment. The next day was a rest day, enjoying the views and taking naps as needed. The summit felt within reach.

    that head wall looks icy!
    protected

    But one major obstacle remained: the Headwall.

    A Critical Decision

    The Headwall is a steep section usually equipped with fixed lines, allowing climbers to ascend with relative ease using jumars. We had been warned about its icy conditions at the time and expected the fixed lines to be buried or frozen in. After an hour of climbing from Camp 4, we reached the Bergschrund at its base. We spotted ropes, but they were under extreme tension.

    high above camp 4
    there’s our backpack!
    climbing up the head wall
    somewhere on the head wall
    just below the head wall

    Julien climbed up to assess them, and we had no choice but to cut one loose. I anchored myself and our gear before cutting into the rope, expecting a violent snap. The moment my knife touched it, the rope snapped with such force that it pulled out our anchor and sent one of our backpacks flying. We watched helplessly as it tumbled down the mountain, stopping just before a crevasse. We calmed down and went down for the pack, then returned to the Headwall.

    Freeing the frozen lines required hours of chopping with our ice axes in -30°C temperatures at 4500m elevation. By sunset, we had only made it halfway up, completely exhausted. Back at Camp 4, we had a serious decision to make. We needed more technical gear to safely climb the Headwall. The forecast showed two perfect summit days ahead, but beyond that, some bad weather came in. Staying in Camp 4 for a week, risking our supplies would finish, was not an option.

    views from C 4
    some huge crevasses below C4
    heading back down
    back to basecamp in worsening conditions

    With heavy hearts, we made the difficult but necessary decision to descend. We contacted Brian, who, despite it being his birthday, drove for hours to buy and deliver fresh supplies to the company that would airdrop them to basecamp.

    I felt defeated, but Julien reminded me: “If anyone can pull this off, it’s you.” His words helped me find my motivation. This was an epic adventure, if it was easy, I wouldn’t be here.

    Many thanks to my sponsors who make this adventure possible!

  • Into the unknown

    Into the unknown

    A Journey Into the Alaskan Wilderness

    After some much needed rest and recovery in Talkeetna, I could feel myself getting stronger. Thanks to the care and valuable information shared by Brian and Diane, I started to believe I could really pull this off. On April 2nd, Julien landed, and we immediately dove into preparations for five intense weeks in the Alaskan wilderness.

    Climbing partner wanted!
    Brian and his father Jim have the greatest Alaskan stories
    more shopping!
    the beautiful views from Brian’s home

    Nice to Meet You!

    When Julien landed in Anchorage on April the 2nd, it was an exciting moment, we had never met before! After my original partner was injured in a climbing accident, I was in a rush to find someone new. Those weeks were stressful, filled with searching for the right person. Then, Julien crossed my path.

    Our first meeting went smoothly, and it didn’t take long to see that Julien was a responsible and strong climber, exactly the kind of partner I needed for this expedition.

    Doomsday Preppers

    The following week was a whirlwind. Brian drove us to various stores, from huge supermarkets to outdoor shops, as we stocked up on food and gathered the last pieces of equipment. While it was hectic, it was also fun, our excitement for the journey was building every day.

    one of the many shopping carts
    prepping

    We collected as much information as possible about the approach to basecamp and dropped off some of our supplies with Talkeetna Air Taxi, who would fly the items to basecamp for us.

    First of the Season

    We were the first climbers of the season to begin an expedition on Denali, and the rangers made it very clear: we were the only ones on the mountain, so a rescue would not be possible. The rangers were extremely helpful and excited about our trip. We felt very supported by them but we knew that safety was our top priority. If anything went wrong, we would be completely on our own.

    training and training for crevasse rescue
    testing our equipment
    it’s official
    testing our setup
    our last meal (stoofvlees!)

    While waiting for the perfect weather window, Julien and I practiced crevasse rescue techniques over and over. The terrain ahead was daunting: more than 100 kilometers on the Denali range’s largest glacier, with enormous crevasses waiting to test us.

    Let’s Gooo!

    On April the 8th, it was finally time to start. Brian drove us to the last point I had cycled to (Petersville Road), and we loaded up our gear. The snow conditions were still decent, and Brian joined us for the first couple of hours. Having him with us was incredible; Brian is a true Denali legend. I felt honored to have his support and guidance.

    truckload full of gear
    Petersville Road where I cycled to
    2 legends (Brian and Luigi)

    After we said goodbye, we were on our own. We knew the next few weeks would be spent in complete isolation, deep in the Alaskan wilderness. For the first two days, we followed a snowmobile trail to the Kahiltna River. From there, we turned right into the wilderness, heading straight for the glacier’s starting point (more accurate it’s the end point). The experience was surreal, breaking trail as the first team of the season, surrounded by breathtaking landscapes, and hearing the sound of water running beneath the frozen river.

    Fork’s roadhouse
    right turn into the wild!
    Following snowmobile tracks to the river

    Battling the Bushes

    Before the trip, we had spoken to locals, including Erden Eruç, who completed this same feat 20 years ago. They warned us that navigating through the brush would be one of the toughest challenges. Manoeuvring sleds through dense vegetation wasn’t easy, but we mostly followed frozen river branches, which made things manageable. Occasionally, we had to climb to the banks, scout for a path, and continue.

    enjoying those views
    ughhh
    making the best out of it

    Camping felt comfortable for me, temperatures around -10°C felt comfortable to me after months of winter cycling. For Julien, though, this was his first expedition. Despite being an experienced climber, it took him some time to adapt. Efficiency is critical in such journeys, and my past experience allowed me to handle tasks instinctively. This dynamic allowed us to grow as a team, preparing us for the challenges ahead. Soon Julien got the hang of it and every day things got a little bit easier for him.

    Unlike most climbers who fly into basecamp, we were tackling the approach on foot. That gave us the time to refine our systems and grow stronger as a team, a process that usually happens later for those who skip this part of the journey.

    Onto the Glacier Highway

    After about a week, we reached the final moraine of the glacier. Getting there was a struggle, navigating uphill through bushes and dragging sleds that constantly flipped over tested our patience. But finally, we pitched our tent on the glacier, ready for the next phase.

    battling up the moraine
    crossing the river on snow bridges, very exciting!
    almost on top

    Navigating became easier from this point. The glacier provided a clear path to follow (just staying in the middle and go up), and we no longer had to worry about bears. However, the glacier brought its own challenges.

    New Troubles

    There was a lot of snow on the glacier. The deep snow was a double-edged sword, it provided safety on the crevasses due to bigger snow bridges but made pulling sleds exhausting. I was particularly worried about crossing large crevasse zones, which Erden had described as slow and difficult. Some of the zones were a bit stressful but thankfully the snow bridges were strong. We managed to navigate safely, the massive crevasses we passed were a beautiful sight and made us feel very small and vulnerable.

    getting clean in camp
    the highway up the glacier

    One day, heavy snowfall reduced visibility to nearly zero. We decided to rest, but had to dig out the tent regularly to avoid being buried. By the next morning, only the top of the tent was visible under the snow.

    heavy work
    pancake time!
    good morning!

    The fresh snow made progress even harder as our sleds sank deeply into it. Still, after 11 days, we made it to basecamp!

    Ready to Climb

    Reaching basecamp felt like a major victory. We didn’t fall in any crevasse, my major concern and felt great. Although we were tired, we had become a more efficient team. The plan was to rest for a 2 days, dig up our supplies, and prepare for the climb.

    Made it to basecamp!
    new supplies thanks to Brian!
    Food!

    After the journey through the Alaskan wilderness, we felt ready for the next stage. The excitement was building, this climb was starting to feel possible.

  • A very long winter

    A very long winter

    After a rest day in Smithers, I got back on the road, bracing myself for long stretches of solitude. Winter, which had been relatively mild at -22°C, suddenly got much colder in the weeks that followed. It felt wild and lonely, but I kept pushing toward my goal.

    One Last Stop in Kitwanga

    Staying with Deb and Lothar from Warmshowers in Smithers was a great break. It gave me the energy to face the upcoming cold snap. I knew from the forecast that it would only get colder as I moved north. For the first few days, I was still on bigger roads with the occasional chance to warm up. A gas station coffee became a small but welcome luxury. 

    Soon, I reached Kitwanga, my last real stop before things became more remote. I enjoyed a final coffee at a roadside restaurant. From there, I turned onto the scenic Stewart-Cassiar Highway, known for being remote, especially in winter.

    The Solitude Begins

    It didn’t take long before I was truly alone. Winter meant most places were closed, and I faced a 160 km stretch before I could find anywhere to stop. Back in Smithers, I stocked up on 10 days’ worth of food, as there wouldn’t be a proper grocery store for 1,200 km.

    For the first few days, I made good progress, but the cold, isolation, and lack of fresh food started to wear me down. I often wondered, “How am I going to pull this off?” The journey felt impossibly long. 

    On the entire Stewart-Cassiar Highway, I only had two places to sleep inside. Each day, just a few cars passed, and most people only took pictures of me from their vehicles. The only communication I had was through text messages on my inReach device, which forced me to get creative to pass the time. Sometimes I talked to myself, but I’m not even sure what about. I focused on staying in the moment, breaking the journey into small chunks.

    Entering the Yukon

    After the long stretch of the Stewart-Cassiar Highway, I rejoined the Alaska Highway. I hoped for more supplies, but everything was still closed for the winter. The Yukon felt magical, though, and crossing into it was a reason to celebrate. But with that came the real cold—temperatures dropped to -40°C, making each day a battle.

    The physical challenge was hard enough, but the mental strain was even worse. I was tired of being stuck in my own head, day after day. I started questioning why I was even doing this.

    Reflecting on the Journey

    I’ve been doing this project for 11 years now, and I’m feeling tired in a new way. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still motivated, but I’ve realized I need to find a better balance between expeditions and my life back in Belgium. I promised myself that future trips would be shorter, with more people joining me, and definitely not as isolated.

    The stretch to Whitehorse was tough—extreme cold with headwinds made for long, miserable days. I cycled with heavy-duty mittens, but even stopping for a quick break would mean freezing immediately. Comfort only lasted for a few minutes at a time.

    Small Moments of Joy

    Sometimes, a little kindness made all the difference. One day, a car stopped to give me a donut, which made me happy for the rest of the day. It’s moments like that on trips like this that remind me not to take things for granted.

    Near the end of the ride to Whitehorse, I got some bad news. My climbing partner had been injured in a fall. I was on the phone when I took my gloves off and ended up cycling with freezing hands. My ring finger went numb, and I worried I might lose feeling permanently, but thankfully it came back after some painful defrosting.

    I had more than just physical stress. Now, I had to find a new climbing partner. Finding someone you trust takes months, if not years, but after reaching out to friends, I got lucky. Julien Roels applied to join me, and with the help of my sponsor, we managed to get him on board.

    Rest and Refuel

    After a few days of much-needed rest in Whitehorse, I stayed with Warmshowers hosts, Tony and Christel, which gave me the social contact I craved after days of isolation. Their hospitality gave me the energy I needed to finish the final leg to Alaska.

    The ride to Haines Junction was one of the most beautiful parts of the trip. Surrounded by mountains, even the CBC stopped to interview me. Someone also gifted me banana bread, which was such a treat! I spent the night with a family in Haines Junction, which was another lovely break.

    Pushing Through to Alaska

    But soon, I was back to long, lonely stretches. It was cold, often snowy, and the roads seemed endless. The highlight was finally crossing into Alaska after nearly three years of travel. It felt like an accomplishment, but the excitement faded quickly, and I found myself counting down the miles each day.

    One day, I was lucky enough to see a lynx cross the road—a rare and thrilling moment! But a few days later, I was hit with a stomach bug, making the final stretch to Anchorage even tougher. I barely had the energy to ride but didn’t want to stop because I was running out of food.

    The Last Stretch

    The last days of cycling were a real struggle. I was exhausted and just wanted it to be over. I made it to Petersville Road, the final stop before switching to skis for the trek to the glacier and mountain.

    At the end of the road, Brian and Diane Okonek picked me up. They welcomed me into their home and helped me prepare for the next part of the expedition. I’m so grateful for their support—they’re true legends in the mountaineering world and a huge part of the success of this journey!

    Thanks to my sponsors for making this journey possible!

  • To the last frontier

    To the last frontier

    After arriving in Seattle I felt I needed a break. As planned I went back to Belgium. This was meant for some quality time with friends and family and preparing for the last stretch to Denali.

    Prepping

    It’s been a huge preparation for this part as I’ll be cycling for about 4000km through cold dark and remote areas. Then it’s on the skis for another 14 days before I can even start to think about climbing up. Luckily for the approach part and the climb I’m teaming up with Jeroen, a climbing friend from Belgium.

    My physical preparation consisted mainly of endurance training (running and cycling), interval training, climbing and strength training. This all combined with enough rest and recovery so I’m not tired before setting off.

    Another important block was to organise all the gear and go over the rope techniques we’ll need in Alaska. The gear list is immense and it gave me a lot of stress figuring out what to take, not only for climbing but on the bike as well! Luckily I’ve got some great sponsors helping me attain the best possible gear and I even got a new one! This year Petzl will provide me with all the necessary climbing gear.

    The mental state

    Being in Belgium gave me a mental boost and after all the preparation I feel ready to get this final stage done. It won’t be easy as I’ll have to cycle for 2 months alone in winter. I’m expecting temperatures down to -40°C, long dark rides and icy roads. As said before, I’m ready to go and full of new energy, the good time with friends and family have helped me getting lot’s of motivation back! I feel like I’m getting more and more support by doing this so thank you all for reading and sending in those messages

    The last start to the great north

    By the end of January I started cycling again from Seattle. A big thanks to my friends David and Nathalie for helping me out in their hometown! With a loaded bike, full of winter gear and very excited I start for a couple of days riding in the rain. Not very pleasant but by using Erden Eruç (he did the same traject and climb 21 year ago) advice I got out of the city pretty safely.

    The first couple of days go great and very soon I’m in Canada. Because of soutern wind systems, I’m getting rain, but tailwinds as well. Just before entering Canada there are some floodings and it’s not easy to find a place to camp. I’m wet and tired so I decide to cross the border at night and continue cycling to a motel to dry my stuff. It’s still a long and hard ride to come. The border crossing went fairly easy and I feel immediately welcome in Canada!

    A whole new country

    Cycling in Canada feels different, I get closer to the mountains but it still stays pretty warm (up to 10°C, yes it’s metric, or partially here!), but wet. The roads feel a bit more relaxed although many people are still driving huge cars compared to what I’m used of. I follow highway 1 to Hope, where I’ll be heading North. I can’t really wait to get more north as it should be drier over those mountain passes.

    Pushing on

    It got a lot drier over the hills, and colder. Which feels good in a way and I’m up to make good progress. I’m following highway 97 all the way to Prince George. There’s no real alternative and I’m expecting much harder conditions further up these roads so I’m pushing to get a good headstart. After a couple of days it gets colder and I need to adapt.

    I start to wonder how will I ever pull this off??? It seems so far away and so very tough cycling, realising I’ll be out in sub zero temperatures for months! But like most things, I get used to it and the first time -5°C feels hard, but after -10°C it feels a lot nicer. Regularly I get to see beautiful views, which help to get me distracted. Because the long boring roads in winter make it lonely rides during the day. Distances between stops are growing and I feel like just one gas station in a day is a luxury.

    Let it snow

    In Prince George I take a day off, I feel after 10 days of cycling it’s not a bad idea and I had some snow during the cycling. I got away with my gravel tires, but on some occasions it got pretty sketchy. I swapped for my winter (studded) tires and did some maintenance for the extreme cold. I make a change of route planning and I’m heading west before going north, just to have a safer and more scenic route.

    Smithers is the last decent sized town I’m passing by, so another time to get a day off and prepare for the long stretches of nothing. During my cycle here I saw some beautiful places and it got colder, one night down to -22° which was a bit chilly. But strangely it’s warming up again. Good news for me that this is a very mild winter, bu not so good for the environment here…

    As I’m in Smithers preparing and eating a lot I feel nervous for what’s coming up. Most people here think I’m crazy and have never seen a cyclist here this time of year. I know I’m in for some serious long stretches and taking food for more than a week on the bike at least. Next big stop will be in 1200km (whitehorse), see you on the other side!

    Thanks to all my sponsors who make this adventure possible!

  • For the love of the mountains

    For the love of the mountains

    The ride to the Ruta de las Flores seemed to be a great choice for us. We both love cycling in the mountains and from then on we decided to do more of that. With Guatemala ahead of us it wasn’t so difficult to keep this promise. It’s a big country with almost everywhere (steep) hills and many people we meet warn us for that. For us, we enjoyed it really hard, even if it meant pushing harder and slower progress. With mountain passes over 3000m (10.000ft) we were in for a treat! 

    What borders?

    Exiting El Salvador and entering Guatemala was again such and easy process. Only showing up at the Guatemalan immigration (El Salvador didn’t even give a stamp) and a few minutes later “Bienvenido a Guatemala!”. This is by far the easiest region to be crossing borders (speaking from my side with a Belgian passport). It makes me realise how lucky I am holding this passport and very aware of the inequality in the world for people wanting to do similar trips. 

    Sick of the hills?

    Most people travelling the Americas go from North to South. Making us meet many travellers along the way as we’re heading the opposite direction. It’s the first time I really meet so many cyclists on the road and when we talk to them, most are pretty sick of the hills in Guatemala. They seem to look forward to the coastal roads of Central America with more facilities and flat roads. Marie and I talk about it and it makes us feel a bit nervous for what’s about to come. Still we head on the first climb in Guatemala. That day is beautiful and very bad at the same time. We found ourselves in a mix of bigger roads with lot’s of traffic (I hate it when going uphill) and some quieter roads with beautiful views.

    After a while we decide to take a really quiet gravel road up to lake Amitatlan. Mainly because there we get closer to Guatemala City, which has crazy traffic in its surroundings. Luckily our warmshowers host gave us a different option to avoid most of it to Antigua. Still we couldn’t avoid all busy roads, but a beautiful climb with perfect new asphalt and almost no traffic takes us over a mountain pass to Antigua. 

    Fire!

    In Antigua we decide, on the advice of Thomas (our host), to have more rest days than planned. It’s a beautiful city and we meet Darius, another cyclist who had a brain tumor in the past and was left-sided paralysed for a while. Now he’s cycling his way down from Canada to Argentina! Always great to meet inspirational stories on my route. 

    After 2 days of rest our legs start to itch again and we decide to climb the Acatanango Volcano by foot. It takes only 2 days to hike up to almost 4000m and down, but the main highlight is the view of the Volcano de Fuego (Fire volcano). Every 30 minutes or so it erupts some smoke, or so it seems during the daytime. But when it’s night we had the view of erupting lava from the top.

    After the summit we headed down really easily. But then the next days our legs were burning! We are really well trained and everything went so easy, but the downhill made our legs really sore. We took another day off to walk around town and prepare to cycle further into the Guatemalan hills.

    Creativity

    First stop after Antigua was the NGO “Maya pedal”. They make human powered tools for people around the area out of old recycled bicycles. These include coffee grinders, water pumps and even washing machines! It’s another great project I’m visiting along the way and my next talk (after the one for Authentico) the funds will go to this project. 

    Cooling down

    With many highlights in Guatemala we had to make some choices for our visits. The obvious choice was to head to Lake Atitlan, a magical place in the middle of the mountains. At 1.500m a very cool place with chilly nights and fresh water. The ride there wasn’t easy though and definitely not around it either. There’s no flat road and going around it means climbing up and back down to the next village, multiple times. I really enjoyed this whole region and was getting nervous for the way out of the lake area. I heard horror stories from car and bicycle brakes melting away, with roads op to 30%! With a fully loaded touring bike it’s not an easy task. Still I was up for the challenge and took it one step at a time. 

    It took me 3 hours to complete this gruelling climb, but enjoyed every bit of it. You’re almost always climbing over 10% at least and when you get to a point of 15% after hundreds of meters in the 20%, it feels like a recovery section. My Garmin (and komoot) indeed gave me parts up to 30%, but luckily just in the steepest corners. When cars where passing in the downhill direction, I smelled the burning brakes for sure!

    We headed further to Huehuetenango and were getting up to 3000m with our first rain in weeks! Very quick we got cold and wet and Marie was having a hard time on the road in these days. I like this kinda “type b fun”, but it took me a while in my life before I could enjoy days like that. 

      Going down

      The last days in Guatemala where mainly one big downhill. Sometimes with beautiful views through the valley, but the last part to the Mexican border where pretty tiring. Mainly because of the traffic and pollution. We didn’t really enjoy that part (edit: Marie enjoyed those days), although it was mainly downhill and we were looking forward to enter our last country together, Mexico.

        A whole new place

        Mexico was immediately different for us, everything is farther apart which meant more quiet roads. The vastness of this country brought us to some highlights like Cenotes ( natural hole in the ground filled with water), waterfalls, beautiful cities and rock! We even made a detour by going down for 1000m and all the way up again for the Cenote of Chucumaltik and the Cascades El Chiflon. They where definitely worth it! After a great sleep at the waterfalls we climbed up again to San Cristobal, a beautiful town in Chiapas where we took some time off and went rock climbing. 

        Sick

        We had a good time in San Cristobal and our rest there was well spent. From there we had a very long downhill, beautiful but on a more busy road. Not too bad when going downhill because you have the right speed not to be bothered by traffic that much. At 2200m it’s quite cool in the hills and by the time we got down to Tuxtla we where both having a hard time with the heat. Temperatures where up to 38°C (in the shade) and just during the last 100m of climbing up to this city, Marie tells me she can’t go on. We stop and immediately she needs to lay down, then she vomits and suffers hard. We fix her a taxi who takes her and her bike up to a hotel where it’s obvious she will not cycle the next coming days. 

          Tuxtla is not the most beautiful city to be stuck, there’s only the Canyon which is definitely worth the visit but that’s about it. Luckily there are many hotels and we find some good and cheap accommodation where Marie can rest. It turns out she’s having food poisoning and in this heat it is so hard to have. While Marie is resting I’m trying to keep busy climbing in the local gym. I’m not only cycling, I still need to keep fit for climbing and other sports in this project. I prefer to keep fit instead of getting back to shape from scratch, with climbing gyms in medium (says the Belgian where the biggest city has 1.2 million inhabitants) sized towns, Mexico is great for that. 

          New energy for the final push

          When Marie felt better we were mentally and physically ready to head to our final goal together: Oaxaca. We still had quite some time so we decided to take it easy with some detours to nice places like waterfalls and lakes. 

          The heat got back to us and from the beach we had a final climb up to Oaxaca at 1500m with many ups and downs. We really enjoyed this climb as it winded through different landscapes and amazing views. We cycled through many agave fields which is used to make mezcal or syrup. The cooler air gave us again more energy up to 2000m and we made a little detour to Hierve El Agua before our last stop together. 

          Pain in the end

          As we got closer to Oaxaca our energy started to get lower again. Not physically but mentally. We knew the end of our journey together was about to end, which is always hard. It’s hard to say goodbye. From October ’22 I’m on this journey and we didn’t see each other for 3 months. Then we where cycling together for 2,5 months in a very intense way and suddenly, we’re all alone again. It’s a mix of feelings, happy we made it to Oaxaca, sad that Marie is leaving, thankful for all those moments, proud of Marie, scared to be alone now, excited to be alone as well, so many mixed feelings going on which is normal until I find a new balance in my life here again…

          • our last picture in front of our beloved Oxxo store

        • Time flies

          Time flies

          When Marie arrived by the end of January we didn’t see each other for 3 months. We took some time to relax while waiting for her bike to arrive and prepare for our journey together. We had the idea of cycling 2 months, from Costa Rica to Mexico. All very exciting as it’s our first bike trip together and Marie’s first big bike tour.

          With the wind

          After setting everything up and planning our next routes we left the village town, down to the ocean. That first day was mainly downhill, but for sure not an easy one. Most of it was off road and immediately an intense day for Marie. Luckily we found some great camp spots along the way and off to the ocean then. That first week was a bit tricky as we both needed to get to a new pace in life, but after a couple of days we found a good rhythm of being on the road. We kinda switched from mountains to coastal roads and back to the mountains. Whenever we had enough of the busyness of the beaches we left for calmer roads and spectacular views. The only downside was that Marie’s back started to hurt because of the really steep off roads. She’s riding my old bike I have cycled to Indonesia with. So not the perfect fit for her.

          Along the way we camp and find some homestays to sleep at. A good combo especially as it’s always easy and safe to sleep anywhere in costa rica. People are nice and with so many tourism in the country it’s easy to find accommodation. Costa Rica is an amazing country with so many national parks to visit. It’s hard, because we would just want to visit so many places, but with a limit in time (and cycling to all these spots takes time and lots of effort) we can just see a part of this beautiful country. 

          It is that in the end we decide to get back lower to the main road and focus on doing some distance to Nicaragua. Mainly because we still have a long way to go and so many places to visit! This road was pretty long and boring, but the exciting part was the wind! We had regular gusts up to 90 km/h , first from the back, literally blowing us forward but when the road changed it was more dangerously from the side. We constantly had to be on guard not to be surprised by this. It made the boring straight road a bit more interesting and pretty soon we ended up at the border.

          New country

          When we arrive at the Nicaraguan border, we get a bit nervous. We don’t know what to expect as we hear that camera’s are forbidden to take. In the end the reputation didn’t live up the border went fairly easy. I must say that it’s the 2nd or 3rd time my bags get completely checked in 10 years time. Immediately the scenery changes, everything is a bit more flat in Nicaragua, except for the volcanoes passing by. First we stopped for some well deserved rest on Ometepe Island where we take some time to relax and do nothing. With new energy we continue our journey further in Nicaragua. It’s a bit more searching for nice routes for cycling and from time to time we hit the main roads. They’re very easy going to cycle, not too much traffic, but long and boring in this heat. 

          The reason for that route was to visit a village called Tamarindo. An education project founded by Philip Vertriest. It helps children in this area to get a technical education. Most people in this area work in the sea salt mining where they have very limited life expectations due to the health risks involved. This project helps to give these children better opportunities in life. They’re doing a great job, but sadly they’re always in search for extra resources. If you get the chance, please help to make a difference and visit their website and consider donating for this beautiful project: https://vzw-autentico.org/

          Smoking hot

          From Autentico we were hesitating where to go next and asked some people. The owner of Via Via hotel in Leon told us we should stop by and visit the city. It is a Belgian hotel group (not a real chain) for travellers in different places around the world. Very nice places and always have a social engagement in the area they’re operating, like the ngo Authentico. Very happy to have been there, so far Leon is our favourite city in Central America! There we decided to go up into the mountains again to cross to Honduras. We were already toasted from the heat and needed some cool air. But first where a couple of long straight roads ahead of us with slights headwinds. They gave us some difficult time and it was the only time so far to listen to music while cycling. By this time Marie’s back is already much better and we’re going strong in the hills. From time to time I have to remind her we have to hold back, because we have a long way to go. 

          • Granada
          • Granada
          • leon
          • leon

          This area in the hills is a main tobacco area and first we needed to pass Esteli. Known for it’s cigars and tobacco plantations it is a beautiful area. The city is pretty industrial so not really worth a visit, but it was a good place to spend a night before heading more up to the border with Honduras. Before crossing it we took a rest day and visited the Somoto Canyon. A beautiful and peaceful place where the cold water helped us to recover our legs. 

          • Marie ready to jump
          • tobacco fields
          • water filtering

          Flying by

          It is already clear by now that borders in Central America are easy going. Very soon we are in Honduras. We didn’t plan to stay that long in here, mainly as a transit country to El Salvador. The reason being that nowadays safety wise El Salvador made a bit more sense to cycle in. Marie had some concerns in advance about Honduras and El Salvador, but she already left that idea because we get so much confirmation from locals so that we perfectly feel safe everywhere. From the border all the way in Honduras and El Salvador now we have such a great connection with people all around. Everywhere people wave at us and make us feel very welcome, always nice to have this feeling while cycling around. 

          • friendly dogs too

          After just 2 days of cycling we arrive at the border with El Salvador, another extremely easy crossing brings us into the country. We take a bit of a detour along a coastal road to be hosted by Jose, a warmshowers host. It is always nice to be meeting fellow cyclists in a country we’re passing by. We get a good insight how he and other Salvadorians feel about the new government and their approach to the gang problem. The government has made some drastic decisions to stop the gang violence, especially the Mara (MS-13) are most known and brutal in Central (and North) America. Currently there are more than 60.000 of them in El Salvador. They don’t have a lawyer or anything and human rights organisations are concerned. But many locals are happy about this approach because it really seems to help. We see people walking on the street at night without fear, which they really had up to a year ago.

          • I love pupusas
          • our great host Jose

          Flat and touristic 

          We stay near the ocean for the next days, mainly to get some easy km’s and we still have enough hills to cover in Guatemala. First we pass by a main tourist hot spot (el Tunco) which we didn’t really like that much (hence no pictures). Don’t get me wrong, it’s a beautiful place and if you’re a surfer, go there. But we missed the authenticity of El Salvador itself. Luckily in one of the following villages we get another feeling of this coastal area. Not so much further we decide to get back to the hills to take the Ruta de las Flores. So happy to have taken it, despite the extra effort of pedalling this is a beautiful route. It takes you up to more than 1000m along beautiful vibrant villages whit good food and beautiful views. At the moment we’re staying for some rest in Juayua and lot’s of food before we head out to Guatemala! I’m looking forward to that, it is full of mountains, but it has a reputation to be very hard for cyclists. 

          Second drama

          During my rest here I got the news that my friend Cak Adhi from Indonesia has passed away. He gave me a place to stay for weeks when I was stuck in Surabaya waiting for my rowboat to arrive. He was a very helpful and special person and did a lot for the cycling community in Indonesia. He died during a bike accident on one of his bike tours he had just started. I’m really sad about the news, especially that it’s a second friend that passes away in such a short time. 

          And again a huge thanks to my sponsors who make this happen!

        • Land!!!

          Land!!!

          After two and a half months on boats and being connected to the ocean, I was relieved to find my beloved bicycle in Panama. Alf, the captain, dropped me off on shore and from there on I headed off for what I like to do most: being on land. This whole period I was a bit stressed, nervous and excited!

          Logistics

          Before setting off in Belgium I already had to make a plan to get my bike to Central America. It wasn’t easy, because I didn’t really know where exactly I was arriving. I found the boat with Alf and Susanne heading to Panama. From then on I had a goal and tried to find a good solution to get it there. First I tried to find a shipment option, but soon I found out that this would be a bit complicated. A couple of days later I remembered that my good friends, Janna and Gertjan would go for 6 months to Central America. I asked them if they would like to fly first to Panama and take my bike. They immediately agreed to help me and Gertjan even knew some people living in Panama. He called them right away and in 30 minutes we had a plan and booked flights and luggage. So beautiful how this all works out and people from all around the world are willing to help. Thank you Gertjan, Janna, Liesbeth, family and Marie (my girlfriend) to help arrange all this! 

          Back to Bike!

          So finally on the 21st of January (2023) I set foot on land, in the small port of Carti. I said goodbye to Alf, Susanne, Neil and Nick, my sailing buddies. I had a good time with them on board, but I was extremely happy that this ocean journey was finally over. In the port itself I unboxed the bike and put everything back together. There I was, on my own, in this small port and ahead of me thousands of miles to cover. The first part was going to be difficult and I felt intimidated about the prospects of it. It was a strange feeling, for months I’ve adapted to some kind of protected environment. Always surrounded by a group of people I know and choose to be with. I felt vulnerable at the port, it was all on my own again and from then on it’s just me who had to do it. Despite all the experience I still encounter those emotions of excitement, stress, nervousness, and so much more and I’m so grateful that all of them are there!

          Harsh reality

          With a big (really big) smile, I’m heading out of the port on a dirt road to the jungle. The next 40 km was going to be hard, I read about steep and impassable roads. I thought being conservative in timing and 4 hours would be more than enough to cover this distance to the main road. I was so wrong! I would like to blame it on the steep roads, heat, bad surface, which all of those where present. But mainly because I didn’t do any decent cycling training in months! That first part was a serious attack on my body, I suffered a lot, but I enjoyed it at the same time. It all got me worried a bit, because the 29th my girlfriend was about to arrive in Costa Rica and I still had more than 900km to go….

          New Balance

          The attack on my body continued in the next days. I was still a bit land sick, which means your head is a bit wobbly from all the time on the boat. At the same time I needed to keep my balance on the bike because of the main road I was following. I wanted to get as fast as possible to Costa Rica so I decided to take the Pan-American highway. With months of seeing hardly any traffic it was quite impressive, especially Panama City and the Puente de las Americas where pretty impressive. Another adaptation was getting out of the watch rhythm that I had on the boat. We had watches at night and naps during the day disturbing a normal sleeping pattern. Now I cycled for 8 to 10 hours daily and tried to sleep in my tent somewhere I stranded. Still, I had an amazing experience throughout Panama and the views where amazing. 

          Steep learning curve

          Despite my lack of training I managed to get over an average of 100km a day and I was pretty happy with the progress. Even the border crossing with Costa Rica was the easiest I have ever done in my life. The change was quite visible, from a beautiful Panama, I entered an even more beautiful wildlife of Costa Rica. Off course I was only following the main highway but the change was pretty visible. The progress was still going great, not too many uphill, but I knew what was about to come. When Marie and I planned our ride together we decided that we will try to avoid the capital of Costa Rica, at least to cycle. So we found a place south of it, in the mountains. Needless to say, I regretted it when I was cycling there. The last 2 days before meeting up with her I had to cycle uphill. Already exhausted from the previous days this was not an easy task. 

          Luckily I found some motivation in the fact we didn’t see each other for 3 months. So there I went, from sea level, turn right…. Immediately it goes up, very steep! The whole day I’m cycling more than 10% of gradient the whole time. The first day I’m going up to 1000m. The next day I have to go up to 3300m, luckily on not such a steep road but still exhausting in my condition by then! With all determination I reach the top that day and by night I reach a place to camp and prepare for the arrival of Marie. 

          Happy and sad

          Finally, the 29th of January Marie arrives and we’re really happy to see each other. We will be riding Central America together for 2 months, possibly up to Mexico. But just 2 days later, I get the terrible news that a friend of mine (Eline) passed away. It really hit me up and I don’t really have words for it. Such a beautiful person, leaving us too soon in life…. 

          Many thanks to my sponsors who help me fulfil my dream!

        • The other side!

          The other side!

          After my days off the boat in Gran Canaria we finally departed on the 20th of November for the ocean crossing to saint Lucia. A crossing that was supposed to be straightforward didn’t live up to the expectations, one part of that is adventure for sure and I love that, another part left me quite frustrated. I’m happy there were some very nice people on board for my mental health. About that, I’ll get more into it in a next post.

          • happy climbing kiddo

          The big start!

          I was looking forward to the start of this crossing, not because of the sailing but mainly to get this done. A mistake I have made, because it made progress a bit more slow in my experience. When we started I was excited and the first night we had some high winds coming up. With the first mate I’m doing some manoeuvres on deck. For about 30 minutes we get swept by incoming waves and we make up a good fight to get all the rope and sail work done. I’m completely drenched, but pretty happy about the excitement, although he had to shout wat I need to do while doing it and not explaining beforehand. I speak French, but these sailing terms make it more complicated to me. 

          Fair winds

          The next days we get fair winds in a good direction and we’re making very good progress. I’m finding a bit more the rhythm of the watches. We have a schedule for 3 hours on, and 6 hours off. But it is hard for me to be on a boat like that mentally. I’m having some fun with nice people on board, but it gets very boring. I’m used of doing lot of physical activity in a day, and that gets reduced to 1 or 2 hours of exercise work. There are 3 English (native) and 8 French speaking people  on board and it seems that I’ve taken the role as a translator. The commands by the captain and first mate are given in French. It makes it a bit tiring because neither of both are my native language which means I regularly translate these in my head in 3 different languages. It’s especially difficult when not given the time to do that and people are just shouting what to do in general. 

          Who broke the boom?

          After 5 days of sailing I get up in the morning about to start my shift. The captain says, lets jibe (changing the direction of the sails). He yells to the people what they have to do and so we all do. Being at the helm, he gets a nice overview of what we are doing on the boat. One lady is winching the main sail and finds it very hard to do. There is something wrong, but the captain yells to hurry (nobody knows why we should hurry) and another guy jumps in to help. With 2 people they are winching hard on instruction, until BANG… The boom (horizontal part of the mast) breaks. A crazy sight to see and I think, fuck, it’s over. We have a big problem. The captain ended blaming the crew, which still frustrates me for not taking any responsibility. In the end we were still able to sail to Cape Verde to get it fixed. It ook 4 days to fix it in Cape Verde. For me a nice break from the sailboat but we still needed to do the crossing.

          • oops
          • playing football with the locals
          • training in Cape Verde

          The big blue

          The weather got a lot warmer from Cape Verde and the whole crossing was getting harder on me. We had some good winds, but after a while they dropped. So it became even harder and hotter. Sleeping is very hard, with 3 in a cabin an almost no ventilation. Regularly I try to find a place in the sail locker (which stinks from the moist) or at night on deck. We’re all in the same situation and mentally it was hitting me hard to be for such a long time on a boat. Dustin, who’s father worked for years on boats, told him once “boats are like prisons you can drown on”. To me it really felt like that. I get a big sense of freedom from my bike and climbing mountains. And I understand people get the exact same feeling on boats, but not me.

          • getting a sea bucket wash from Dustin
          • trying to find shade under the main sail

          Because of the low winds from time to time, the captain decides to motor parts of it. I think it’s sad, but as I explained in a previous post, this is a plan B where I didn’t have the luxury to take too long to decide on things and still better and more adventurous than flying to Denali. When we are all sick of being in this situation Aurore gets the best idea. Let’s just all turn things off and have a swim in the ocean. So we did and that was an amazing feeling, surrounded only by water and cooling off in it (I have a video of it which I couldn’t upload here with limited internet, but check my social media for that 😉 ).

          • thanks to the fishing crew for the amazing fish!
          • captain pancake at work
          • Dustin trying to save the bad carrots

          Land ahoy

          Finally after such a long time on this boat, I’m very happy to see first land. We arrive in saint lucia on the 15th of December. Most people rush off the boat (including me) because we have a big delay in the schedule. So the whole trip ended quite abruptly leaving me with mixed feelings about the whole crossing. In St Lucia I’m meeting up with Alf, the captain of the next boat which I will be crew on until Panama. Feeling hopeful for a better sailing experience we prepare for the next 1000 miles across the Caribbean Sea. 

          • Crossed the Atlantic!

          Sidenotes

          I learned my lessons about this crossing and people wanting to do a similar thing, you can contact me so I can explain the do’s and don’ts for this. I hate to do this, but in my 10 years of this adventure I never experienced something like this. I don’t want to get too deep into this and bashing people or a company, but I’m definitely not the only person with these feelings about it.

          Special thanks to my sponsors who help me make this crazy adventure come true!

        • Ahoy sailor

          Ahoy sailor

          After arriving in Lorient by bicycle it was finally time to start sailing on the 4th of November. I said a last goodbye to friends, family and my girlfriend and hopped on the “Albatros” with 9 other crew and 2 captains. I was a bit nervous about the start because conditions where expected to be quite hard in the Gulf of Biscay and I tend to get pretty seasick… Without too much sailing experience I set off on this boat.

          A rough start

          Before getting on board I took some seasickness pills and hoped for the best. We set the sails and started sailing on quite rough seas. Wind speeds picked up to 25-30 knots (gusts up to 40) with headwinds slowing down our progress. We agreed on doing watches in teams of 3hrs on and 6hrs off, which allows for a lot more rest (compared to my last rowing adventure). These first days on the ocean I was very careful about not getting sick. No reading, trying to be outside as much as possible watching the horizon and taking my pills to prevent sickness. It means I wasn’t eating that much in the first few days, feeling nauseous from the motion of the boat. But, to my great surprise I didn’t get too much of it (I only threw up twice). After a 4 days I was even able to cook some food and eat it!

          Learning the hard way

          Sleeping is not very luxurious in some kind of hammock bed, especially the first days, where the boat was hitting those big waves pretty hard. It’s hard to fall asleep when having those loud hits every couple of minutes.

          The sailing itself was a complete new experience to me and I had to learn fast. Luckily there are some experienced people on board who are helping me to understand. The boat is mainly French so using all these terms in another language is making it a lot harder to get the know of it. But I’m grateful to be sailing with such a wonderful team having the patience for me. After a couple of days I’m starting to feel like I’m contributing something on the boat.

          Finding Shelter

          When we almost crossed the Gulf of Biscay we had to find shelter in a port. There was a storm coming up and the captain decided to stay in the North Western part of Spain for a night. I think we were all pretty happy with that decision. It gave us the opportunity to have a good rest, food and a shower. The next day we start sailing again, against the last high winds of the storm, zigzagging our way through.

          But, after this we kinda got stuck in a zone without wind. Because we were on a timed schedule it meant we had to use the motor for that part. We had some extremely calm seas and it sucked to be using the motor. We were on and off the sails several times. I accept that as I’m considering this sailing as a plan B and still want to cross Siberia to Alaska one day. And, at the same time I already rowed to the Canary Islands before.

          After 13 days we finally reached Gran Canaria, here we are restocking and preparing for the Atlantic crossing. I’m happy to have found a good rhythm and trust for the next crossing. I’m starting to enjoy many aspects of sailing, but being not very physically active is hard for me. In the last days I was starting to do daily exercises to get rid of that feeling.

          The big depart

          We are leaving again on the 20th of November to do the big crossing. I’m feeling a lot more confident about the next part. This is part of a rally (ARC) where I think about 30-40 boats are participating in. It’s nice to be a part of it and meet likeminded people. Still, I’m enjoying my time on land for the moment, doing some running and climbing on Gran Canaria. I’m definitely looking forward to arrive in Panama where my bike is waiting for me and my girlfriend will join me cycling to Mexico.

          The next 20 days will be off grid and I’m very curious about this experience! See you on the other side!

        • Planning, failing and planning

          Planning, failing and planning

          It’s been a year that I have been writing on this blog. Not because I’ve done nothing, but mainly because I’ve been making many plans, but they kinda failed to be executed. 

          After my return in Belgium I immediately started preparing for the next mountain: Denali. As the highest mountain of North America it is not easy to get there. After my failed rowing attempt I decided to get back to my original plan: go to Russia and cross Siberia in winter to the Easternmost point. From there I planned to kayak to Alaska and trek to Denali. 

          My preparation consisted of arranging logistics, administration (permits etc), routes, and training. Because I had never skied in my life, I needed to learn that as well. I took some (tour)skiing courses in the Alps with my girlfriend which definitely wasn’t that easy for me. Many falls later (and laughs of her) I’m still not a very good skier….

          But, after some months of preparation the Russians started to invade Ukraine and the whole expedition is paused. Because I don’t want to wait indefinitely for the whole area to be safe to travel, I had a difficult decision to make. 

          There where 2 options to me: 

          1. fly to Alaska and climb Denali, from there cycle down to Aconcagua ( the highest mountain of South America). When the situation would improve (after many years?), I could finish the Belgium Siberia route by human power. 
          2. Cross the ocean by sailboat and cycle/walk to Denali and climb it. Then still finish the Siberia expedition one day when things calm down. 

          Finally, I chose the second option, it is not the easiest or fastest option, but I would feel more comfortable instead of flying in. Sailing is still within the philosophy of the project, but I still feel that one day I would like to cross Siberia in winter. 

          I found a sailing team that I could join from France to Saint Lucia. We would stop at Gran Canaria for some days and continue to the Caribbean. From there I don’t know yet how I will reach the American (Panama) mainland, I’m still searching for a solutions. According to most people I contacted, I would be able to hitch a ride on a boat from there. 

          In Panama (or another American country) I will cycle to Alaska, which will take me about 14.000km in 6 months. Then it’s not finished yet, because I will have to go through Alaska to reach the base of the mountain. This will be a very demanding expedition!

          The 3rd of November, I will start sailing from Lorient. I often get the question about why sailing would be better than rowing and if I will not get seasick on that trip? 

          I’ve been talking to some experienced people and my doctor to see if it would be possible and we found some reasons why the sailing could work out for me:

          • the sailboat (21m)  is much bigger than the 9 m rowboat I was trying to cross the ocean with, so the waves are relatively smaller
          • A sailboat has a keel, the rowboat not, which makes the tilt less aggressive
          • I will not have to row for 13 hours straight. I will have to work on the sailboat, but my safety and that of others is not completely dependent on my seasickness
          • I’m better prepared in the case of seasickness (medication)
          • Sailing is much faster compared to rowing. We planned to row for 3 months non-stop on the ocean. The sailing will take about 40 days in total, which I wil have 20 days non stop  on the ocean. 

          Still, for me the ocean is not my favourite place. I have been rowing for 6 months to Papua and I liked it, but not like climbing mountains. So to be honest, I will be happy to be in Panama where I can continue cycling and climbing mountains. 

          cycling to Lorient and posing in front of the boat I’ll be sailing with

          A couple of weeks ago I already started the journey to Denali by cycling from Belgium to Lorient. It took me a week to get there, on a very nice cycle route through Normandy and Bretagne. Once arrived in Lorient I visited the boat and headed back by bus to Belgium. I did this on my brand new touring bike: vsf fahrradmanufaktur. Very happy to announce this new partnership with this brand of really good touring bikes. I’m currently riding a TX-1200 model and will give some updates about the bike from time to time.

          The reason I had to head back to Belgium is that I needed to guide a group to Kilimanjaro from the 28th of September to the 25th of October. A couple of years ago, Etion asked me to do this and I agreed on that. I was supposed to arrive in Tanzania by bicycle and climb Kilimanjaro myself. As I would already have been there, the group would arrive after my climb and I would guide them up. But because of covid everything got delayed until now. Therefore I had to cycle to Lorient now, guide on the mountain, and head back to Lorient by train after that’s finished. Very busy weeks, but soon I’ll be back on track to the highest mountain of North America! 

          Thanks to my sponsors who help me make this adventure possible:

        • The final push

          The final push

          After the rest in the Mutinondo wilderness camp I had new physical and mental energy to cycle the last part to Kilimanjaro. Determined that I would make it in time, I planned a route with some detours to visit some beautiful places along the way.

          Beach time

          Taking a turn off the main road to Tanzania I find a more relaxed road going straight up North. Because of Covid, the small border I’m heading to is closed. Locals tell me pedestrians and cyclists can cross anyway so I’m taking the risk. Pretty soon I end up cycling the 500 km near the border. There I take another road in the direction of Kalambo falls. A pretty, but rough ride takes me to this amazing place. The waterfalls are about 235m high and it’s quite remote. After a refreshing pause I continue descending down to lake Tanganyika. It’s one of the biggest freshwater lakes in the world and definitely worth the visit. The only painful part is that the descent is pretty long on a rough gravel road. Already feeling the pain for the uphill the next day…

          The final crossing

          My rest day at the lake helped me to get up the hill again, but it hurt a lot. Pushing hard to get up the steep hill with many loose rocks. I found most energy out of the fact that I would cross the final border in Africa and will be entering Tanzania! The border is a very relaxed one, and they only ask a quick test for covid to enter. Soon I’m stamped in and then I meet a group of cyclists. They cycled from Zimbabwe to Uganda for charity and are now driving back with the support cars. It’s really nice to meet them and they give me some good tips for the road. As well as some of their snacks (thank you so much) and a mosquito net for my head. That’s mainly to protect me from the tsetse flies that I will encounter later. I find a really nice place to camp not far from the border and the next days I’m heading to Katavi national park, one of the few you’re allowed to cycle through.

          Attack of the flies

          Before cycling through the national park, people warned me about dangerous animals there, especially lions. They told me to cycle on the warmest moments of the day, that’s when the animals are the least active. It’s only 60km on a bad (constant washboard) gravel road so I’m not too worried about all of that. Another warning where the tsetse flies, they are extremely terrible there. Especially when you’re cycling. They follow moving objects an just want to suck your blood. Insect repellent is not very effective for these little bastards. They get very active on the warmest moments and they made the drive a hell!

          Followed by a swarm of those blood sucking vampires I’m swearing myself through the park, occasionally spotting some wildlife. Sometimes I’m finding the courage to take my camera, but only to start hitting myself non stop. This means no stopping at all, not even for drinking or eating. At the end of the day, getting out of the park I’m completely exhausted. Mainly because of a lack of fuel. But when I cross the bridge and I see all the hippos and crocodile in the river I’ve forgotten about those terrible flies. The next day was rest day and I went for a game drive. Not being attacked as frequently by those flies was a luxury and gave me the opportunity to take more pictures.

          The final push

          As I’m getting closer to Arusha it feels that my body needs some descent rest. I promised myself 5 days of rest before climbing which I’m looking forward to. From the Congo-Zambian border the main wind direction was against me, sometimes more, sometimes less. It became very frustrating to push every day and I was getting really sick of it. Slowly I made my progress, still enjoying the views and experiences of the road. I take it easy and try not to get frustrated about it. Which after a while really helps and while having fun, I’m making progress. After some days I finally arrive near Arusha. Instead of pushing through and finding a hotel I look for a nice place to camp one last night somewhere alone.

          It’s a great time to realize what I’ve done, cycled and kayaked 19.000km from Belgium to Kilimanjaro. What an experience that was! I love enjoying the stars before getting back to the city where I will wait my friends to climb together. Here in Arusha now I’m taking some well deserved rest in Onsea house and the 11th of September I will go up Mount Meru with Ben and Nuno. We’ll be back down the 13th. The next day I will cycle half a day to Moshi where the other friends will arrive to climb Kilimanjaro with me. The 16th I’ll cycle to the Moshi gate where the others will start the climb with me and I’ll leave the bike to climb up. Can’t wait to get going in the mountains and especially climb the 4th mountain of the Secutec Seven Summits!

          • water pumps are always a great stop in Africa!
          • Camping inside this building
          • Last camp spot before arusha
          • last sunset before entering Arusha

          Special thanks to my sponsors who make this adventure possible!

        • Zambian Tranquility

          Zambian Tranquility

          After my negative PCR test it was time for the last 100km of the DRC into Zambia. People in Zambia warned me for the passing trucks and traffic. Luckily it never went as bad as in the Congo. One of the disadvantages of cycling on good roads was to discover that the main wind direction was south east.

          • saw too many of these on the road in the DRC

          First impressions

          Zambia is a calm country, people drive more carefully and roads are in good condition. Everything is a very big contrast compared to the DRC, except for the friendliness of the people that stays the way it was. I can find food everywhere, even lot’s of fresh food and I find some supermarkets that overwhelm me with choices!

          • bored, but happy

          Boring progress

          I’m making good progress on this road, despite the constant headwind. Mostly there are some trees or vegetation at the side of the road to filter it, or the passing trucks give me a push in the right direction. I’m cycling on this plateau of around 1500m the whole time, taking me up and down from time to time. Cycling is somewhat boring , but I’m still enjoying the views and the many foodstops along the way. This road is helping me to make some good distance. Not that I’m in a rush, I’m well ahead of schedule. But mainly because I want to make a small detour to Kilimanjaro to visit some nice and interesting places now that I’m here.

          Rest in heaven

          My first real stop is Mutinondo wilderness. A very nice place in a nature reserve where I can take the first proper rest since starting again. I’m taking some days off to recover, eat healthy, fresh food and enjoy some good company before heading North to Tanzania. Here I meet other Belgians that are travelling the area with kids from an orphanage (an American NGO) in Northern Zambia. And then some Belgians working in the forest conservation. Nice to talk Dutch from time to time.

          My time camping in the nature reserve gave me the right energy to continue my trip to Kilimanjaro, I’m nearing it! Only 1900 km to go and we can start climbing 😉. Thanks to some boring roads I’m making good progress and I’m a couple of days from the Tanzanian border. From here I’m making some detours to visit some nice places now that I can.

          Thank you very much to my sponsors who make this project possible.

          https://secutec.eu/