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With nervous anticipation, we free-wheeled our bicycles down the steep ramp exiting the immigration building, swerved around a gaggle of black market money changers, and out into Xinjiang Province. Rebecca and I had 90 days to cycle across China, a distance of around 5,000km from Kazakhstan to Vietnam. Our Chinese odyssey had begun. Xinjiang is comparable in size to western Europe, but from a glance at a map appeared to be mostly desert. Xinjiang’s capital, Urumqi, is the most remote city fro

It’s 3 am on July 10th and we have just landed our packrafts on the shore of the Arctic Ocean. In this land of 24-hour light, our internal body clocks seem to be following the rhythm of another planet. With no obvious variation in the angle of the sun, just a steady circling of the horizon, each day stretches longer than the last. We lose ourselves in the steady motion of footfall on sand or are hypnotized by the shape-shifting horizon. We feel pushed to keep moving, long past our conventiona

The first time I think about giving up is at the Col de la Cayolle, in the French Maritime Alps. I am stuck in the snow, hip-deep – one hand trying to push myself out, the other clutching the rope with which I drag my kayak behind me like a pulka. My bike is strapped on top, and every few meters the whole setup begins to totter. But for now nothing is moving – largely because I’m immobile. As I sink again into the powder, I’ve just about had enough. I scream every four-letter word I know, an