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The biggest enemy for the kind of long=haul, self-propelled adventure I have embarked on is injuries, when the only essential tool you have, the body, fails. For any reason, that idea never crossed my mind, until today.
Today is day 4 of thru-hiking after cycling over 4000km and living in my tiny tent for 6 weeks. Today, as I was putting my backpack on and stepping onto a new trail, a sharp pain burst out of nowhere in my left side hip. I have a pages-long history of small injuries linked with this kind of intensity, could it be thru-hiking or heavy multi-sport training, but this was completely new, something I had never experienced before. I tried to suck it up and kept going uphill for 3km until I couldn’t do a step further and collapsed in the middle of the trail in pain, with despair trying to crawl into my mind. There was no point, I just couldn’t do it and I had to face that reality now without thinking about everything it could involve later. The insane amount of mosquitoes that instantly buzzed around my legs and head forced me to make a quick decision. Good luck in this misfortune was that I was not embedded in the wilderness but only 3km from a trailhead busy with people. I stumble downhill cringing and heavily leaning on my one hiking pole. I stopped every 200m to breathe in a grunt but finally made it back to the road and thankfully found friendly helpful people who gave me a ride back to civilization. I am still unsure of what happened, if it is serious or just a body warning that requires a few rest days but so far this event taught me two things. First, even if I would like to believe so, I am not indestructible and overuse, overtraining and fatigue injuries do not only happen to others. Despite the fact that I am well=trained and that I need less recovery time than most people, there is still a limit, a line that cannot be crossed. My body is the only piece of gear I cannot easily replace and I should therefore take a greater care of it if I want it to take me all the way to Ushuaia. Second, this is just a bump in the road and not, as my thoughts tried to make me believe so, the potential end of it. It might be a turn I did not expect but that is the very beauty of the journey and why I embarked on it. Right now I have no idea of what is gonna happen, I might be back on trails in three days or pulled over for two weeks but restlessly going over all the options will only drive me insane. This was the only planned section of my itinerary, the exception to my golden rule : “why would I make a plan knowing that nothing is gonna go accordingly?” This episode just confirms it. All I have to do is letting it go, or going with it. Things happen and they are just things happening. We chose the way we experience them. I won’t let this one ruin my good vibe ! At the end I am so grateful this happened in this place, at this moment. Jasper is not the worst place to get stuck and it was super easy to get the help I needed. Also it was a perfect way to make me step back from my “pushing south” mindset and rethink the journey as a whole. For many weeks, people kept asking me which way I would go into BC after riding across Yukon. I would answer : “via that smaller road, highway 37 I think.” And them to reply : “Ho, the Stewart-Cassiar highway, you are a brave man! There is massive elevation gain and bears everywhere! It sounded like I was about to ride the Himalayas with angry grizzlies ready to eat me behind every corner. A very exciting and appealing program indeed but one should not listen too much to people stories, even more when they experience the scenery without stepping out of their RVs. As a friend of mine used to say, the scariest bear is the one that is in your head. I took the bet to go check it out myself.
I will relieve the suspense right away, I did not see any grizzly. Not even half of one. But I did see countless bears. Everyday I would ride along at least three blackbears. They never bothered me, at all. They were either scared to death and flew into the bush or intrigued and lift their heads from their munching to observe that weird looking animal with a helmet before going back to their food without paying more attention to me. For more than half of them, I realized that : “Ho, there is a bea right beside me in the ditch” only when I had already passed them. Regardless how many I saw and how they reacted to my presence, it is still such a pleasure and a privilege to be able to encounter wildlife roaming in its natural habitat. Too bad someone put a road there. Ho wait, I am riding it. Bloody paradoxes… Coming from the Alaska highway, the first thing that struck me was the narrower, windier and more charming aspects of the road. It was not cut through the landscape but going along with it, which involved some rollercoaster-like sections and a bunch of nice steep and strenuous hills. But I am still waiting for the tremendous passes climbs. The narrower and windier aspects of the road also meant no shoulder, forcing me to ride in the lane. I loved it because I would not get all the odd gravel and debris but also and mostly because it would force the cars to slow down and take on the other side of the road, leaving a lot of room in between us. There was less traffic anyway and it was forced to be slower because of the terrain. The scenery changed almost drastically as I was now riding through dense lush bush. I was astonished by how bright and green it was, full of life. No doubt this was a wildlife heaven. To have so much vegetation, you would need a large amount of water, which also meant a large amount of mosquitoes. The water was ever present, coming from the Earth and the Sky. I found numerous creeks and countless lakes from all sizes, shapes or colors. Some were dark blue, others emeraude green or crystalline turquoise. It even felt like I was already in Central America when I laid on Boya Park’s white sand beach with my legs dipping in the transparent blue water empowered by the clear blue sky and the glorious sun. It did not last the entire trip. On the second day, qs I was about to leave Dease Lake after a late lunch, lightning and thunder started their dance in the horizon. But I did not smell the unique scent of the rain coming and a local firefighter confirmed that it would likely be a drystorm. I went on and got lucky except for a 10min little shower. I was not as fortunate the next day. I saw the darkness raging towards me , the atmosphere turning to humid and electric. With no shelter for the dozens of kilometers I had no other option than keeping on pedalling. For five hours I rode through a massive hail and thunderstorm with torrential rain but at least it was not too cold. The highlight of this idyllic cycling afternoon was when I bushwhacked in the mud, carrying my bike over slippery boulders, trying to find refuge under a bridge to finally realize it was a metallic grid platform it was pouring through. I was cycling long days and was a little ahead of schedule which allowed me to do a side trip to scenic Stewart. Less traffic, smaller road, fun climbs, long descents, bluebird, big mountains, steep gorges, massive glaciers, roaring river and wild cascades, everything you could ask for the most enjoyable bike ride ever. Getting closer to the bigger highway I was slowly getting bored of the pavement monotony and the heavier traffic. But I found a few gravel forest service roads to cut across the mountains and get back to the wilderness. It was gorgeous and super fun, the perfect way to end this marvelous section of the trip on a good note before grinding the last hundreds of kilometers to the next resupplying place, Prince George, and transitioning to my hiking gears in Jasper. It is gonna feel weird to part with my bike for an approximate five weeks but I am very keen on leaving the roads to step into the backcountry. Dawson City was the perfect place to take care of both the bike and the body after the Dempster experience. I spent all my money on food, especially on icecream. After two days resting, I went for an unloaded dayride on the so-called Top Of the World Highway and started my journey South again on the fourth morning.
It felt awesome in many ways. The legs were fresh, the chain was not grinding sand, the weather was perfect, the terrain was easy, I had a tailwind and I was now flying on the pavement. The scenery was not as stunning as the last days on the Dempster but still offered some epic views. After only a few hours, I saw a big cloud rising from the horizon and knew what it was ; a forest fire. I was not expecting to get any as so far North and early in the season but so it started. What I did not know was that it was the start of multiple days of smoky conditions. I first went through a very, very dense area with an apocalypse-like atmosphere. It was pitch dark and you could not see 20 m away. I was worrying about my lungs but it was too late, I was in it and just had to get out of it. I put on the breathing face-mask I had brought for the dust on the gravel road thinking it would do the trick for the smoke. I rode this dark scene looking like a dark lord. When it started to lift up a little bit, I found a charming roadside lodge, an old log cabin I could not resist entering. Here started the trip’s biggest battle against myself: it is not because there is a restaurant or bakery or any kind of food that YOU HAVE TO get something, because you already carry food. I lost the battle that time, and I’m still losing it almost everyday, especially when I found a 1kg freshly baked cinnamon bun. I decided to do side-trips and explore as much of Yukon as I could on my scheduled way to Jasper and the Great Divide Trail. Half-way up the one-way road to Keno, a tiny historical community with an identically named peak granted with 360 view, I had to turn around because the smoke was getting too thick again. But I found a nice little spot with a clear creek not far from the road to camp. Not all my bush-camps were that bucolic! The trip ended up being divided into three sections. The first took me from Dawson City to Whitehorse with the aborted side-trip to Keno in 5 days. The second turned into a relaxed 4 days resupplying in Whitehorse plus riding, camping and hiking in the Carcross area with freshly made friends. It was truly amazing to be able to put the trip aside and spend some quality time with nice people. Our plans kept changing because of the thick smoke but we finally ended up hiking and scrambling one of the local peaks. It was such a great experience, untouched landscape with no-one else around. The legs appreciated the change of discipline and were fresher than ever when I started the third and last section from Carcross to Watson Lake in 2.5 days. This section on the Alaska Highway made me meet more cyclists in one day than over the two prior weeks. The road was mostly flat, I mean no major elevation, and cut as long straight lines which allowed me to often get down on the aero-bars. Days were hot and nights fairly chilly so I decided to start late (9.30 to 10am) when it was not freezing, stop for a long lunch break in the roosting afternoon (2 to 4pm) and ride into the evening breeze (8.30 to 9pm) because there was so much daylight anyway. It was cool to observe the darkness slightly conquering time on the light as I was riding South. I left Dawson with 24h daylight and got to Watson Lake with a few hours of dusk-like twilight. Being back on the pavement not only impacted my average speed but also my nose. Because of the hot weather, the typical smell of the warm asphalt bathing all day in the sun was ever present. Depending on the breeze, it was dominant or a subtle background flavour mixed with the creeks, the flowers and the forest breath. The cars, RVs and trucks passing by would add a more or less pronounced exhaust smell to this fine blend. Most of the drivers were nice and left some room when passing me but I always needed to be ready to be hit by the odd loose gravel sprinkled on the Northern roads, especially over the multiple construction sections. For dozens of kilometers I would have fine sand crushing in my teeth, making my mouth even drier than the smoke already made it. From time to time it would get so drained out that I would not have any saliva left and be unable to swallow. But maybe it was because I could not close my mouth, amazed by the surrounding wildlife, scenery, lakes, mountains, flowers and trees exploding all around me. My skin was fondled by the wind, which made me forget the sticky mix of sweat, dust, repellent and sunscreen layered on it. When stopping for lunch or in the evening, I loved to listen in the silence to the breeze in the trees, the many birdsongs and the insects humming. Such peaceful music after hours of wind harping on my ears because of the speed and all the super loud engines. All this might not sound like a dreamable and idyllic journey but all my senses were stimulated and excited by the discoveries. It made me feel more alive than ever. I did not just see Yukon, I truly experienced it in all ways, and it was wonderful. Il y a beaucoup de voies
Qui s’ouvrent devant moi Entre l’eau et le feu Je prends celle du milieu Offert aux éléments Mes sens sont alertes Le parfait alignement La route est ouverte Le vent caresse ma peau Parfois me pousse dans le dos Au petit matin glacé Ses rayons viennent me réchauffer Lacs, rivières et torrents Attirent la vie abondamment Un avec le sol Et pourtant je vole Fixe sur le goudron Glissant au hasard Perdu dans les environs Tout en un seul regard Bombarde de senteurs L’asphalt, son odeur Les parfums de la végétation Tout en une seule respiration Vissé sur la selle Plaque de crème Ruisselant de sel Tout sur un seul épiderme Des barres de céréales De la poussière j’avale L’air c’est gourmet Tout pour un seul palais Assourdi par le vent Le cri des moteurs Attentif aux grincements Tout en une seule clameur Les mains sur le guidon Les yeux dans l’horizon Chaque brise que j’inspire Me fait frémir Le nez dans les essences Les oreilles en effervescence Entier, je pédale C’est un régal Encircled by the lush trees
The blue lakes, the high peaks Drawn by the horizon Answering the call of Freedom Responding to the road’s invitation Lungs filled with pure air Skin cuddled by the wind Pulled by the serene sky Listening to the appeal of destiny Responding to the road’s invitation I am joy It flows in my veins Shines in my cells Every single one of ‘em I’m one with the trees The blue lakes, the high peaks I’m one with the pure air The wind, the serene sky I’m one with the horizon In brotherhood with the open road I am joy It flows in my veins Shines in my cells Every single one of ‘em One with the Natural World This is the ultimate bliss Welcome in Peace L’exploration du nord-ouest
A toujours fasciné Venant du sud et de l’est C’est un repère d’aventuriers Ils vont par monts et par vaux Traversent neige et rivières Arpentent plaines et plateaux Ils endurent toutes les misères Prêts à tout affronter Laissant tout derrière eux Plus que déterminés Ca se lit dans leurs yeux Hormis quelques habits Et leur sac sur le dos Ils n’ont plus rien dans leur vie Se sont jetés à l’eau Qu’est ce qui peut pousser A faire tant de chemin Stoïquement tout encaisser C’est l'appât du gain Dans ces paysages grandioses Ou le sauvage est roi Dont ni vers ni prose Ne peuvent rendroi foi L’homme avance fièrement Il multiplie ses torts Piétine allègrement C’est la ruée vers l’or Des qu’il trouve un fillon Il part en campagne Assèche les vallons Retourne les montagnes Un éclat doré Ou rien de visu Il pense avoir gagné Ou être perdu Après toutes ces galères Dont il a payé le prix Il ne sait plus quoi faire Une fois qu’il a tout acquit Il repart sur la route Ou s'anesthésie à outrance Cherche a oublier le doute Et la pire des souffrances Car ses poches sont pleines Mais morne est son coeur Il n’y a pire peine Que le vide intérieur A l’inverse, celui qui Oublie le matériel Se délaisse des soucis Vit pour l’essentiel Il arpente ces terres Se fond dans l'étendue Il oublie la colère S’offre à l’inconnu Livre au monde Il découvre son fort A chaque seconde Le plus beau des trésors J’ai tout pour être heureux
Et n’arrive pas à l'être Je vis librement Porté par le vent Je n’ai pas d’attaches Mais toujours quelques chose tache Tendu vers l’horizon Je réalise mes rêves Peu importe la façon Il n’y a pas de trêve Le pendule de mes pensées Me fait chavirer Vous me voyez calme Jamais dans le drame Mais vous n’imaginez pas Tout ce que dit la p’tite voix Parfois pour un instant Je respire pleinement Perdu dans la Nature Cerne d’vues grandioses Je subis cette dictature Comme sous hypnose Le pendule de mes pensées Me fait délirer Je parcours le monde Surfant sur les bonnes ondes J’enchaine les expériences Toutes plus intenses Ce sont des injections La beauté est mon addiction La plupart du temps Ma tête est dans le futur Jamais dans le présent A part dans la Nature Le pendule de mes pensées Me fait dériver Je cherche sans relâche Dévoué à la tâche Je poursuis mon Graal Le reste m’est égal J’y consacre ma vie Même pour l’infini Arme de patience Suivant mon intuition Je bois la quintessence Et embrasse mes démons Le pendule de mes pensées Est plus léger Goutte après goutte Peu importe c’que ça coûte Je suis ma voie Au rythme de mes pas Par delà les tourments Je vise le moment Sur la route du bonheur L’obstacle c’est le mental Descends à l'intérieur Trouves l'énergie vitale Le pendule de mes pensées Va s’immobiliser Cycling from the North
All the way to the South Here is the tale Of the Arctic Vagabond Beware weary traveller Fool enough to venture Over passes, plains and plateaus Tundras, forests and meadows The land of the North is hostile It isn't for the fainthearted Only few here can survive The wildest of the wild The roaming animals, the stark land All Natural Forces Here are unleashed Embracing their supreme rage Many try to scare me What about the wolf, the grizzly The Northern weather, the elements You'll have to fight for your life I gaze out at the scenery And can only see beauty Where others see opponents I find reinforcements The Wind? A friend hugging me The Rain? Water to be drunk The Snow? Sprinkling the horizon with fairy poetry The Cold? An invitation to dream by the fire The Thunderstorm? The most dramatic show Weather isn't enemy or nemesis It's the director, the artist Who sings and dances with the Earth In an enchanted symbiosis This is the land Of the unleashed Forces of Nature Embracing their supreme liberty Why do we forget so quickly That we are part of it? Who's fool enough To fight against his home? A newbie on the Dempster, or can one transfer backpacking skills into bikepacking.
Let's first set up the pitch. The Dempster highway is a 900km gravel road that stretches from Dawson City (YK) to the Arctic Ocean's shore in Tuktoyaktuk (NWT). It is the Canadian equivalent of the Alaskan Dalton Highway which runs from Fairbanks to Prudhoe Bay. I'm a 27 y.o. outdoorsy guy with a good physical condition (marathon 3¼ hours, half ironman 5 hours) who, other than swimming, cycling and running, loves to embark on crazy adventures, mostly on foot. After one month of hiking the Continental Divide Trail in New-Mexico, I realized how much I missed a bike on those endless gravel roads. The idea of crossing the American Continents, from North to South, hiking and cycling, was born. The only thing was that I had never bikepacked before, neither rode anything else than my carbon road bike. I assumed that I was fit enough to cycle consistent distances daily and that I could easily transfer my backpacking experience into bikepacking. Live in the wilderness according to the elements, find and treat water, plan resupply, search for camp spots, packing light with only what you really need, have a rodent minimalist lifestyle are the same things in either scenario, as is the daily routine : walk/pedal, enjoy the scenery, eat, sleep, repeat. The Dempster was the perfect way to start my Arctic to Antarctic journey and a straight forward baptism by fire. How did it go? I flew to Inuvik, the small town 150km south of Tuktoyaktuk, during the second week of June. I was gladly surprised on how warm and sunny it was. But it did not last. After a few days resting from the long journey and the jet lag, I hitched a ride to "Tuk", where I was welcomed by an overcast sky and glacial wind. After a greasy lunch and dipping my back wheel into the ocean, it was already 2pm but I was not stressed timewise thanks to the midnight sun and its 24/7 daylight. The game was on. Many people warned me about the loose and unstable gravel making the ride back to Inuvik fairly sketchy. And it was. I took the time to make it safe and enjoyable, going up and down those rolling hills gazing at the endless tundra turning into boreal forest. I swore to myself to keep it easy on the first day(s) but the lack of camping spots and the permanent daylight fooled me. Before I had realised, I was 145km in and it was 1am. It was time for a first chilly night. I woke up a few hours later with the rain and urged my way back to Inuvik where I was kindly offered a bed to shelter from the nasty weather and to rest. The next two days brought me to the first mountain range. First along long straight lines cut through the bush, then over a more hilly terrain. The weather kept teasing me, throwing in freezing headwinds, big dark clouds and beautiful clearings. The road got slightly better but still had a lot of loose spots. I was happy to have my 47” tires and an ultralight setup. On the way I discovered the two small communities of Tsiigehtchic and Fort McPherson where I was invited to share the free "Dad’s Day" lunch with locals. One thing is for sure: the bikepacker hunger is the same as the backpacker's! Fort Mac was the last resupply place, except the meal at Eagle Plains restaurant. Here again, no big difference with my backpacking strategy, same food and number of planned days +1. After the Peel river crossing, the road steeply climbed up to a plateau with a pristine view on the Richardson range. I truly felt blessed to be right there, right then. I just could not stop worrying about those stormy clouds rolling over the peaks. I understood that I quickly had to leave this super exposed place and miraculously found shelter right when the sky started falling on me with lightning and thunder. Locals had mentioned this summer village where a big music festival happens once a year in August. I sheltered in one of the stage's corners and woke up humid and shivering. The thunderstorm lasted all night with insane winds and had transitioned to a snowstorm. I quickly found burning wood and an unlocked cabin, lit a fire and spent another cozy rest day reading a book. The extra day of food came handy. The next morning brought a bluebird and I was super excited to finally enter those mountains. The climb was strenuous but the view could not stop getting more awesome. I was totally overwhelmed by such beauty and the luck I had to be there. The day flew by with endless epicness as I went over two passes, across the Yukon border and the Arctic Circle, as well as a last climb out the Eagle River up to Eagle Plains. The last ascent made the big fat meal in the warm restaurant taste ten times better and the first shower in 6 days feel even better. The rain came back during the night but turned to be just a drizzle when I woke up. I then made a big mistake by heading off. This was a totally ok weather to hike but bad conditions to cycle on a gravel road. I was quickly covered with cement-like mud and soaked to the bones but was going at a decent speed and had a lot of fun. It lasted one hour. Then I started to shiver and was not able to warm up. The rain had intensified and the road turned into an absolute mess. I revived some good hiking memory and took refuge in a roadside toilet. For 5h I tried to hitch a ride back to Eagle Plains because "there is no shame in turning back". But it didn't work and despite the changed clothes I was still unable to recover feeling in my feet. It eventually stopped pouring down and parts of the road looked like drying up. I decided to take my chances and keep going. Second worst idea, ever. I struggled over crazily muddy sections and had trouble finding a decent water source. I just found a nasty murky pond infested with thousands of mosquitoes that at least allowed me to clean my bike from some of the clogged muck in the chain and derailleur. It was the roughest ride of my life, no doubt. I finally made it up a ridge where the road improved but the wind was blowing me off it, and almost off my bike. I was exhausted and pushed to the next rest area where I found another toilet, big enough that I could lay down in it. My survival reflexes made the rest with warm dry layers, a hot tea and a warm meal. I had my space blanket ready but finally did not use it as I got up early and went straight on pedalling. From here everything started to change, first with a long downhill, followed up by straight flat lines that I could grind out in an aero position. The landscape totally changed and the road was now winding along a large river surrounded by big cliffs and rolly mountains. It felt like I was entering Patagonia already. I stopped for a second brekkie, a nap, lunch, another nap and in the early afternoon the weather started to clear up, along with my foggy mindset. I climbed up another small pass and continued riding across this gigantic scenery. The forest was replaced by the tundra. I called it a day and gazed at the panorama while recharging my inner batteries with the beautiful sunshine. I woke up in a dream and rode through this pristine landscape with only my sore legs reminding me it was real. The early sun with few clouds brightened the scenery with that unique intensity that only lasts a moment. Without realizing it, I went over the last pass and started the long 80km journey downhill to the pavement. I slowed down and took the day to fully enjoy the view. My experience told me that my stomach could wait another day before shovelling food into my mouth but that my soul could never get enough of those scenes. Bikepacking, like backpacking, tends to make me focus too much on the objective and the “back to civilization” feast. Learning to drop off and let it go is not an easy job but I succeeded this time and even left the bike to scramble up a small peak to get more of those panoramas. My legs were surprisingly happy to switch discipline. The majesticness vanished with the last kilometers of gravel that suddenly changed into pavement. Leaving the Dempster got me fairly emotional as it was such a magical and unique experience in all respects. One chapter closes to let another begin. Again, I knew that I’d better take a little extra time to rest and process this experience rather than rushing into the journey's next leg. With hindsight, I think my bet was totally legit. For me, bikepacking worked exactly like backpacking and the only problem I faced was the difference of exposure to the elements. You get colder more quickly and playing with layers was even more crucial. I hope this can help others stepping into the amazing world of bikepacking. Now I just have to add packrafting to my belt and be totally polyvalent! The tech + : 47” tires The gear - : the 15°C sleeping bag The orga tip : Dempster mail allows you to ship anything you want from either Dawson or Inuvik visitor centre to Eagle Plains. A perte de vue La nature, pure, s'étend Plus loin que l'horizon Pas une trace d'aménagement L'oeil cherche une route, une barrière Il ne trouve que des rivières Ici tout n'est que terre, eau, roche Végétation, glace, ciel et vent La pureté dans toute son aridité Pourtant je vois tout ça et ne rêve pas Encore un paradoxe Par ma chance de vivre cette scène Je souille sa virginité Et je contribue à la destruction De ce que je tiens le plus haut Dans mon coeur Petite localité de 3500 âmes, Inuvik se situe à 300km au nord du cercle polaire, à 150km au sud de l'océan arctique, à la frontière entre le Yukon et les Territoires du Nord-ouest, au Canada. Endroit singulier car c'est la ville canadienne accessible par route la plus au nord du territoire. D'ailleurs ici tout est un record par rapport au cercle polaire. Ces étendues immenses, partagées entre forêts boréales, méandres du delta et tundra abritent quelques autres communautés mais aucune n'est aussi accessible et développée qu'Inuvik. Ici on trouve tout ce qu'on peut attendre d'une petite ville n'importe où ailleurs : grandes-surfaces, restaurants, banque, quelques magasins, pompe à essence, école, terrain de sport, hôpital, hôtels, 4g et wifi haute vitesse! Si l'on enlève le climat, on vit ici exactement comme de la même manière qu'à des milliers de kilomètres au sud. Il faut le reconnaître m, c'est quand même très pratique et ça permet à de nombreuses personnes de vivre cet expérience unique, dont moi. Mais qu'on se le dise, cet endroit est l'exemple le plus poussé de la dépendance énergétique, et pas que ça. A peu près rien n'est produit ici et vivre sous ces climats, avec notre mode de vie occidental est totalement absurde. Les populations qui avaient élu domiciles sur ces terres vivaient à un tout autre rythme, un mode de vie et une culture qu'on a également piétiné. Comment négocier ce paradoxe qui me permet à la fois de vivre de telles aventure, de découvrir et d'explorer des endroits aussi reculés qu'uniques mais qui par leur essence vont à l'opposé de mes valeurs? La route est encore longue jusqu'à Ushuaïa et je risque encore de faire face à mes contradictions! Pour finir sur une touche plus joyeuse, je ne m'attendais pas à trouver un gigantesque potager collectif sous un stade de hockey sur glace recyclé en serre. Un endroit magique qui uni les différentes communautés.  |
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Tramping, cycling, running, skiing, travelling, I keep exploring this amazing planet we live on. The following texts give an insight of my various wanderings. From poetry to trip reports or thoughts on particular subjects, this pages try to reflect how I travel through this modern world.
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Septembre 2019
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Where is Tom ? |
Updated Sept 7 2019
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TRAMP the wilderness DISCOVER the world WRITE about it |
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