It took us six hundred and five days to ride our bamboo-and-hemp bicycles from the top of the planet to the tip; to cycle from that isolated town in the most northern part of the Alaskan Arctic down to the Antarctic Peninsula, where – on March 6^th, 2012 – we set foot and rim on to the White Continent.

We spent 605 days on our bicycles for a reason, and not because we particularly love cycling. Prior to embarking on this 30,000-kilometer journey, neither of us had pedaled more than 15 kilometers at a time; riding through our hometowns in the Netherlands. No, it wasn’t for the love of cycling that we lived in our small tents, got chased by countless angry dogs, and dragged heavy trailers full of unnecessary gear halfway around the world. We did it for a different reason; we did it for the watery adventure.

We knew we weren’t going to be the first or the fasted attempting this journey. No training, no experience, and no clue, meant that no records would be set or broken. But that wasn’t the point. The point wasn’t to prove something; it wasn’t about claiming some physical achievement or titanic feat. We wanted to engage with people and explore the question of how we, all of us together, are going to live on this planet in a sustainable way; now and in the future.

We knew the inconvenient truths. We knew there will be nine billion mouths to feed by the time both of us will retire, we knew there are more and more cars on our roads, more and more microwaves in our kitchens, and less ‘stuff’ to make it all possible.

We knew all that, but being stubborn optimists we wanted to learn more about the convenient solutions.

That is why we started our journey two years ago in that small, quiet settlement in the Alaskan Arctic; to learn about the basis of life itself, water. To meet a few of the billion people who still don’t have access to clean and safe drinking water, and listen to their stories. To see some of the effects of our unsustainable ways of development that are threatening this most precious resource; and to learn that clean water has the power to transform communities, lift them out of poverty, and send millions of children into education and out of that vicious cycle holding them trapped.

Water is politics; water is business. Water is food and energy. Water is the bloodstream of the biosphere and we need to share our supply between all living things.

And there is no better way to go out exploring than on a bicycle. It does not have doors or windows keeping you detached from your environment. You are part of it. You can feel the wind, the rain, and the sun on your face. You can connect with people and communities, and you can do all this feeling confident that your impact on the planet is minimal.

We pedaled our bicycles across the Alaskan and Canadian wilderness, the forests of the Pacific Northwest, the 1,000 mile desert of Baja, the humid rainforests of Central and South America, the Andean Highlands of Peru and Bolivia, the dry pampas of Patagonia, and the ice sheets of Antarctica.

What we learned is that big challenges are overcome in small steps. This was true for our own personal journey of 30,000 kilometers, but it is also true for the progress made on sustainable development.

Change needs action, and for action you need awareness. How many more people have become aware of our collective challenges since 20 years ago?

That’s progress.

This is also true for water. Through visiting local projects along our route and listening to what people had to say, we have become more positive about human ingenuity and drive. It is easy sometimes to forget about bottom-up change being made every day by concerned parents, neighbors, and local change makers. Whether it is building water wells using nothing more than a machete, old car tires and bicycle spokes, or fabricating fog catchers to harvest the water from the air, or putting together purification filters from buckets, sand, and a bit of gravel; people are a lot cleverer than we often think or give them credit for.

Waiting for change to come is not the way. We need action. Because the biggest threat to the planet is the belief that someone else will take care of it.

That is why we are continuing our efforts.

We ran out of road once we reached Antarctica, but we feel that where we want to go we don’t really need any roads; we will continue to explore and try. Maybe we will fail miserably, but maybe we will win big. We want to continue trying to make a difference and contribute whatever little we can. So watch this space because change is gonna come!

Cycle for Water 2.0

Our official TEDx talk we did while on Antarctica; trying to inspire actionable attention about the fact that almost 1 billion people have no access to clean and safe water, and that the availability to this most precious resource is being threatened by unsustainable development. It was very cold though, standing there on the ice in our cycling shorts…

On February 28, 2012 around 12 noon, we rode our bamboo bicycles onto the Plaza Civica in the southernmost city in the world. Waiting for us there were our parents, some of our friends and partners, and our inspiration; Robert Swan, OBE. Rob is the first guy to have walked to the North and South Poles, and now he’s spent the past 20 years dedicating his life to the preservation of Antarctica. After finishing our 20-month cycling adventure to bring actionable attention to the global water crisis, Rob had some good news for us…

After completing our 20-month cycling journey from the Arctic to the Antarctic we went to Buenos Aires and shared our final thoughts with Jim Clancy.

Together with seventy other intrepid explorers coming from all across the globe, we embarked onto the luxurious Sea Spirit.

Crossing the famous Beagle Channel south, across the notoriously turbulent Drake Passage, towards Antarctica; the coldest and loneliest place on Earth.

While crossing the Antarctic Convergence and sailing into the cold, but highly productive, Southern Ocean; we see our first Wandering Albatross…

and we spot the first bits of ice floating alongside the ship.

Suddenly the mist and fog clears and we find ourselves looking at the Antarctic Peninsula. We sail into Dallmann Bay and marvel at the quiet beauty of the Melchior Islands.

All around us are bergs and bits; the deep blue color caused by the scattering of light within the tightly compressed ice, in which all the air has been pressured out of the crystals.

This is Antarctica; a continent twice the size of Australia, but with no permanent inhabitants, and no indigenous peoples. It has never seen war, and it is the only place on our entire planet that we all own.

Smelling the continent, tasting it, feeling it; it inspires wonder and amazement. It is an unexpectedly quiet place where humans are made very acutely aware of their own insignificance and vulnerability.

Animals and nature are in charge here… (photo courtesy of Jack Robert-Tissot)

And patrolling just below the surface in the frigid waters, there be giants… (photo courtesy of Jack Robert-Tissot)

Moving along, we sail through the gorgeous Lemaire Channel beneath towering volcanic cliffs. On the one hand lies Booth Island, on the other mainland Antarctica, tantalizingly close.

Going ashore on Petermann Island at 65° 10′ South, we visit the southernmost colony of Gentoo Penguins.

Some fluffy, nonchalant looking, Adelie chicks are also around; they better hurry up and molt before winter sets in.

Otherwise they’ll be easy pickings… (photo courtesy of Kevin Jiahong Wang)

Everyone loves penguins and it’s difficult not to be too anthropomorphic with so many tempting ‘invent-the-caption’ scenes around…

Right?

Camping out on Ronge Island we found that, despite popular belief, Antarctica does in fact have land-based predators… (photo courtesy of John Luck)

Although they do not appear to be too vicious… (photo courtesy of Jack Robert-Tissot)

After a rainy night, during which we could hear the thunderous sounds of glaciers calving into the ocean, we were glad to get out of our wet bivouac sacks and enter the brash ice of Paradise Bay…

where a giant pod of humpback whales had just joined us.

From the relative safety of the zodiacs we could creep up very close to these gentle giants…

although they would regularly test our steadfastness by diving and gliding underneath the – suddenly very rickety feeling – rubber boats to show their immense shadowy outline in the cold, blue water (photo courtesy of Joseph Chan)

After this mesmerizing experience we went ashore at Paradise Harbour…

where we could participate in the first ever TEDx event held on the Antarctic Peninsula.

Standing there in just our cycling shorts we rushed through our talk as quickly as possible…

Although actually jumping in the frigid, zero degree Celsius, water was even colder… and quicker… (photos courtesy of John Luck)

Nearing the end of our Antarctic expedition we sailed to King George Island on the South Shetlands. Here, at the Russian base of Bellingshausen, stands Robert Swan’s e-Base. Run solely on renewable energy, it is an inspiring symbol that if we can successfully use alternatives here – in the most hostile environment on Earth; we can use it everywhere, meaning that there will be no need to come to Antarctica to seek out its riches and destroy the last wilderness on the planet in the process.

Because even though humans do not regularly venture to this bottom end of the planet, we have had a dramatic impact on it…

which was made brutally clear to us once we passed to the eastern side of the Peninsula and sailed into the Weddell Sea; greeted there by massive icebergs dotted across the ocean…

our eyes were transfixed on this massive piece of the Larsen B Ice Shelf, which broke off several years ago. The shelf, roughly the size of Belgium (!), fell into the sea even though it shouldn’t have, and these gigantic tabular bergs floating around in the Southern Ocean are a powerful reminder that Antarctica – the planet’s early warning system – is telling us something. It’s telling us to slow down and think, because the biggest threat to the planet is the belief that someone else will take care of it.

After arriving in Punta Arenas – the Chilean penal colony turned hub for gold prospectors and sheep farmers at the southern end of the South American mainland – we took a ferry to the quiet town of Porvenir on Tierra del Fuego.

The first two days of cycling on the island we cross through very desolate, treeless lands. The Patagonian pampas continue, and we are treated to endless views over colorful grasslands being maintained by huge herds of sheep and guanaco.

The winds here are fierce but mainly in our favor; pushing us from Chile across the border back into Argentina.

Passing quickly through the disappointing industrial town of Rio Grande, we found ourselves cycling in the last valley before the forested lands and mountains would return.

Long before arriving in the small town of Tolhuin, we were aware of the famous bakery La Union. Owned by Emilio; this is the last safe haven for passing cyclists on their way south.

The smell of fresh baked goods draws in people from far and wide, and we were more than willing to spend a few days here…

sampling some of many types of homemade breads, pastries, empanadas, chocolates, and cookies.

Our bellies full and our hearts anticipating the long awaited finish, we ride around Lago Fagnano…

until the imposing Martial mountains come into view.

But before our final descent into Ushuaia; we have one more mountain pass to conquer.

And on the top of Paso Garibaldi – while our minds are trying to reach back to the hundreds of hills we must have gone up during these past 20 months – we are rewarded with a magnificent view across the waters of Lago Escondido.

On the other side we plummet back down into the snow-covered evergreen forest…

And we pick up a stray dog…

who decided to follow us all the way to the Plaza Civica in downtown Ushuaia.

Where Michiel’s mum…

And both my parents surprised us with an unexpected welcome. (photo courtesy of John Luck)

When all the festivities were over we rode up towards Hotel Del Glacier, where some new friends were waiting for us; our adopted dog still in pursuit… (photo courtesy of John Luck)

After 605 days on our bamboo bicycles we are now done; it is over. Riding down from above the Arctic Circle in Deadhorse, Alaska, we have tried to bring some actionable attention to an issue that we both belief is – and will remain – crucial; how to quench a growing thirst on an increasingly populated planet, and do so in a sustainable way. We tried to help some people, and we hope we inspired some people. We made a lot of new friends and learned many things about ourselves and about the world we live in. We hope we made a small difference…