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 had a chat with my girlfriend and 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!
