Stories

 "How off-grid can you go on a bikepacking trip? Chris pedals onto Dartmoor accompanied by bushcraft expert Haze Outdoors to find out"

Meet Dr. Rob Ripley. 

"It all starts with the mandatory equipment list!  I’ve checked it twice!  And checked off each item as it gets packed.  There are still a few things missing.  But, hopefully, I have a handle on these."

"I will be bringing Expedition Foods freeze-dried meals.  Mostly because they come in convenient 1000 calorie bags that weigh about 200 grams apiece.  Which makes it easy to count calories and to calculate food density (at 5 calories per gram, Expedition Foods has a better energy to weight ratio than most freeze-dried foods).  And, in my opinion, they taste as good as freeze-dried food gets."

See Rob's full blog posts on the RacingThePlanet website, here.

The Way changed me, my dogs, and our relationship. The Way clearly marks a new beginning, a new phase of my life. It changed my perception of the interconnections between the living and non-living which exist in our world, eliciting the radical idea of a sovereign nature with laws that are clear, and straightforward. 

The Way turned out nothing like I had planned: after two days, the pulk became so damaged it could no longer be used, so the load had to be reorganised solely on the sled. The weather conditions and these unforeseen circumstances meant that I would have to adjust my plans and start all over again, calling deeply on my strength to adapt and be flexible. I learnt that Nature asks but one thing of us: the ability to adapt. 

I can’t help but think of the local people who were there for my dogs and me when we had to go back and start again. They offered us a place to stay giving me the chance to repair the equipment and reorganize the expedition. The Way gave me the opportunity to meet these supportive and altruistic people.

They were curiously attracted to my dogs come from afar: six pairs of eyes and ears intrigued by every detail of a land so different from their own, six noses to the wind, six hearts eagerly waiting to go and travel to boundless horizons. The locals were quiet and watchful, their daily activities closely attuned to the weather and light conditions. No hurry, no demands. Sometimes they approached me saying “It’s cold today”, “It’s going to be tough out there”, and “You may need this, I can lend it to you” as a reindeer skin was gently placed on top of my sled.

The immense white extends as far as the eye can see. The wind is a constant presence in these lands; it is right at home here. The Northern Lights are so intense that they can touch even the most indifferent soul. Waves of light that move in the night sky with a rhythm that is inexplicable to the human eye. It’s the spirit of the Earth manifesting through a silent and unpredictable dance on clear, Arctic nights.

The Way transformed me. The ability to change and being flexible are the basic principles of adaptation. 

My dogs and I experienced the Arctic in all its harshness: strong winds, blizzards, heavy snow, and ice characterised the expedition. We had only one sunny day: how amazing the sunshine is, so uplifting! Adi, Tayen, Tulku, Dolly, Indi and Ciuk have been my eyes, ears, legs and mind when the visibility was so poor I couldn’t see where to go. I relied on them in the most difficult situation, when we were in the middle of the storm and had to reach campsite. Adi deserves special thanks: the little one, disrespected by the dog breed and racing experts because of his small size. Despite his size, he took over in this difficult situation and led the team safely to the campsite. He is a “thinking” dog with a big heart.

The Way was the experience of spending the night outside incapable of pitching the tent, with the dogs completely covered by the snow, coping with the blizzard: fifteen hours in the sleeping bag, forcing myself to stay awake to move my hands and feet so they wouldn’t freeze. In my mind, I can see the emergency cabin where we arrived the following day. I felt so much relieved to be there, where I could start a fire to dry the equipment and, so much pride in Adi leading the team and getting us through the continuing storm safely yet again.

At the end of each day in the tent, feeling tired and satisfied, I showered my brave friends with pats and praise because I realized the Arctic was a tough test for them, too.

I couldn’t have asked more of them: they guided me towards what I started calling “our dream to the end of the Earth”.

Crossing frozen lakes, valleys and white expanses, I saw the Sami’s tents and wooden huts (uninhabited in the cold season) and I clearly perceived how nature there marks and decides the rhythm of the life of all living beings, from animals to humans. Everything there owes its life to that harsh place. The natural environment is above and beyond any profit or interest. I believe that not only have I travelled through this part of the Arctic, but I have actually seen it, touched it, experienced it.

Solitude became constant, sometimes joyful, sometimes oppressive, as we traversed passes, crossed over plains and passed by forests of small birch trees under the discreet gaze of birds and moose. The feeling of being the only human presence within tens of kilometres was often very lonely: I would have given anything to hear a familiar voice. I was so happy to meet, talk and drink a cup of tea with two travellers, one day. The misfortune (or the fortune that allowed me to totally immerse myself in that place) didn’t even spare my technological accessories: the satellite phone stopped working quite early on…perhaps a sign that civilization and its vices lose their grip out there.

A few friends of mine, who had been in the North before, warned me, “It’s a place that changes you”. The Way did change me as a human, as an explorer, as a soul searching for answers, as an observer of the world. This experience taught me the importance of recognizing what is truly essential, letting go of the superfluous. The Way has been the most genuine metaphor for life that I have ever experienced.

The Way is a new beginning. The Way: where Civilization ends, Freedom begins

Fra Indi - 

At Expedition Foods, we've been watching as news has come in about the terrible and tragic events happening in Ukraine. We have seen images of the people of Ukraine fleeing their country which is being bombed daily. 

We wanted to let you know what we've been doing to help Ukraine and Ukrainian people. 

Humber Rescue

RacingThePlanet

We also teamed up with RacingThePlanet to arrange a fundraiser. Around £8000 was raised and sent to RacingThePlanet Alumnus and 4 Deserts Grand Slammer Daniel Lewczuk, who agreed to facilitate the help in Poland.

Daniel was on the ground in Poland, had already been working non-stop to help the refugees, and could direct the funds to help the people of Ukraine as needed. 

The outdoors has always been important alongside travel and exploring solo. Transport was an issue post-war, but I rebuilt motorcycles to get around from the Peak District, the Pennines, the Lakes and eventually Scotland and the isles. With no funds I used hostels, rough camps and anything that was free...

There were only two things I knew about Kyrgyzstan before signing up for this expedition. One, I couldn’t spell it, and two, it was hard to find on the map.

After several months of squinting at pixelated mountain ranges we identified several unclimbed peaks in the Tian-Shan Mountains that offered potential for an exploratory expedition. The Kuiluu valley and East Bordlu glacier lay unexplored and would be the team’s primary objectives. We hoped to climb these in a light and fast alpine style with minimum support.

Already delayed by a year, the team agreed to proceed with planning the expedition, despite the overwhelming uncertainty the trip would go ahead.

Finally, after 18 months of planning we made it to basecamp in August this year.

After establishing camp and advanced basecamp, the team slowly began to ferry equipment up the mountain, acclimatise and conduct further probing missions into the surrounding valleys for access points to our objectives.

After several days of reccying the glacier, we identified two potential lines to our summits and prepared to climb the next day.

It was snowing the next morning and big heavy flakes settled on the team as we ate by headlamp.

We had no reliable weather reports for climbing. It was a matter of sticking your head out of the tent and eyeing the sky. Another team had warned us the weather often deteriorated in late afternoon and not to rely on weather reports. 

We set off and blearily trudged up the steep moraine by the glacier before reaching a saddle to gear up.

We were to climb in two teams. Each team had packed light and brought only a small PD rack and 60m rope between them. This was an exploratory climb and we didn’t expect anything serious.

We took to the snow and slowly wound our way up a steep incline to gain the ridge at 4357m. The team were in good spirits and climbed well. The excitement was palpable, and with every new ridge crest we ascended, our expedition leader Tom was hassled to confirm if we had bagged our objective.

After five hours of climbing we finally reached our virgin summit at 4788m. It felt cool to stand in a spot where no one else had been before. After much handshaking and picture posing we retraced our steps along the ridge before descending an adjacent glacier to ABC.

The new peak was graded PD+ and named Pik Perseverance in honour of all the trouble we had suffered getting to Kyrgyzstan.

That night the air was filled with the hiss of gas canisters as we prepared dinner. The dehydrated meals were easy to prepare; just pour boiling water into the bag and stir well before leaving for 5 minutes.

Most of the team had brought 800 calorie meals, but I found myself eating two 1000 kcal meals a day. The Beef & Potato Hotpot was a team favourite and each member wished they had brought more of the Custard with Apple for pudding.

My climbing partner, Sam and I debated what gear to take the next day. It was another exploratory climb, we did not intend to spend the night. We packed lightly taking a small set of cams, some nuts and ice screws (climbing equipment) in addition to our own personal gear. The route would hopefully top out on the ridge we had climbed that day.

The next morning we set off up the glacier and after a two hour scramble reached our first pitch. Roped up, we made our way up a beautiful patch of ice and the team were stoked believing this to be a precursor for the route. I stuck some gear in and brought Sam up before leading along a narrow ridge to a steep vertical section.

It turns out that was the best part of the climb. We soloed the rest of the route over extremely loose ground. The rock was chossy, and one of the team quipped that if you found a handhold you didn’t like, you could just pick it up and throw it over your shoulder before choosing another.

We topped out on our ridge as hoped, took a few snaps and ate lunch. The views were fantastic. Snow capped mountains surrounded us. Dark clouds gathered on the horizon and a cold wind began to blow forcing us to quickly descend tired and hungry, but happy the primary objectives of the expedition had been met.

We graded the route AD+ and named it ‘The Argen Spur’ after a local horseman we had met.

Unfortunately, our planned number of climbing days had to be reduced from twelve to two forcing us to retire early and return to the capital Bishkek.

In all, it was a successful expedition. A new peak was climbed, and two new lines established. But there was so, so much left undone. I still pull out the maps we made and look at the objectives we missed.

In moments of consolation, I think of the advice an old friend gave me before heading out on the trip.

“Go for an adventure, any climbing is a bonus.”