Cycling Alaska with a Stranger

Words by Irina Bob, photos by Hugo Vanpassel

Hugo and I met in 2024 on my European cycling trip. He had just finished a running competition and saw my Instagram story asking for someone to host me. While he really didn’t have the energy to do that, I kept insisting and ended up on his couch. Eventually, he joined me for a few days of cycling along the French coast, and one year later, we flew together to Anchorage, Alaska.

I relied on him for the route planning, and he relied on me for absolutely nothing. Nevertheless, we managed to get it all together and set out to cycle across Alaska. Arriving in Anchorage felt like arriving in a movie. All I knew about American culture came from movies, which made it feel a bit familiar. Eventually, we left civilization behind and cycled across the infinitely large landscapes to the north.

I had no expectations, no imagination, and no idea of what I would encounter. But the challenges we faced together were completely different from what I had experienced on prior bikepacking trips. Cycling through landscapes devoid of human civilization sounds fascinating and breathtaking. And it is. Until it isn’t. Until the boredom of seeing the same road for days becomes a meditation, until your thoughts become the most entertaining thing around, and the conversations with one another are no more complex than rating the different granola bars we were carrying.

Initially, we planned to cycle in the south of Alaska, exploring well-known scenery and sights recommended by others. But meeting two other cyclists changed our plans. We scrapped our original route and went directly north. We knew we might face some difficult times heading in that direction, but we were seeking things not many people get to see in their lives.

We started riding towards the picturesque Kenai Peninsula, eventually reaching a point even farther south than Anchorage. Then we cycled north. First, we passed some mountains, seeing glaciers left and right, while having the crippling fear of meeting a bear crossing the road. The landscapes were so vast we would not notice how they were changing, or how we were changing—from being overwhelmed by the distances, a new country, and new ways of doing things, to becoming comfortable with our routines and settling into the peace and calm of the silence.

We reached the famous Denali Highway. It’s a road surrounded by mountains, one that looks like the pictures on postcards. For me, it always takes some time to get into the rhythm of bikepacking. Which means getting used to physical exhaustion, learning to communicate with Hugo, learning to be honest with myself about my wants and needs, and finally finding joy despite the challenging aspects of bikepacking.

I was struggling a lot at the beginning of our adventure, but every interaction with new people, animals, and breathtaking new views reminded me of why I was doing this. We kept riding through Denali National Park, where we got very close to the wildlife. Then, to Fairbanks, where we let everything that had happened so far settle in for a few days. Finally, we pedaled all the way up north. The south was child’s play compared to the conditions we faced up there. Rain, fog, cold, wind, no humans, nothing but tundra and wet socks. Alaska has an atmosphere incomparable to anything I have ever seen or felt. A place where adventure was truly redefined for me.

For more from Irina, check out her YouTube channel.

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