Ice, sand and sea: The First Half of 2025
The first half of 2025 was a whirlwind of bucket-list adventures. It began in India, spotting a snow leopard, trekking a frozen river, and attending the Maha Kumbh Mela. From there, I ran desert ultramarathons in Chile and Namibia, finished the Comrades Marathon in South Africa, and commissioned my new sailboat. It was a half-year defined by constantly pushing onward.
The Himalaya: Ghosts, Ice, and Faith
As I get older, my bucket list gets shorter. Usually, I get to check one or two items off the list every year. But at the end of January this year, I got to travel to India and experience, in just one week, three of the things I wanted to do before I die. It started with a flight to Leh, in the northern region of Ladakh. I had visited this scenic region of the Himalayas in the summer of 2023 when I rode my motorcycle all the way from Pune to Pangong Tso. But flying into Leh in the middle of the winter was a completely different experience. Daytime temperatures were below freezing, and the locals even had outdoor hockey rinks.
Leh, Ladakh
Ladakh, India
I met my friend Ratnesh Pandey, and we travelled together to Shang Sumdo Village in Hemis National Park to try and spot the elusive Snow Leopard. In freezing temperatures, and with the help of some very experienced spotters, we managed to see this beautiful but elusive animal a couple of times through spotting scopes. I was also able to go out on some high-altitude runs at -10°C. We returned to Leh and travelled south towards the Zanskar River for the Chadar Trek.
Hiking to spot the Snow Leopard
Using scopes to find the Snow Leopard
Ladakh
Imagine hiking for nearly 10km over ice and snow, on a river whose top layer freezes over every winter, with millions of gallons of water still flowing underneath. This was our experience on the appropriately named Chadar Trek. Chadar means “blanket” in Hindi, and the frozen river really becomes like an infinite white sheet over the river. There are sections where the ice is so thick and clear that it almost feels like walking on glass, and we could see the riverbed. Although the Indian army is building a road and blasting the mountain right next to the river, we still had a great experience hiking over the ice.
Hiking over the Zanskar river
Walking on ice
Completely frozen over
Maha Kumbh Mela 2025
From the isolation of the Himalayas, I took a flight to Prayagraj, a city formerly known as Allahabad, to be a part of the Maha Kumbh Mela. I've been to the Triveni Sangam (the meeting of three rivers) before, but I wanted to be a part of this massive Hindu pilgrimage and one of the world's largest religious gatherings. Because of a special planetary alignment that happens every 144 years, this year's Kumbh Mela was especially auspicious. I arrived at the airport in Prayagraj in the evening, and a friend of Ratnesh picked me up on his scooter (no private cars were allowed to move within the city). I went to the hotel to drop off my backpack and change into traditional clothes, before heading to the Triveni Sangam. It was the middle of the night, but thousands of pilgrims were still everywhere. After offering my intentions to the Ganges, I walked into the river wearing only my underwear, and submerged myself in its murky waters. I've been part of many pilgrimages from many religions. With the Kumbh Mela, as with the others, it's always been about the sense of community with fellow pilgrims, and not about the religious side of it. It had been a perfect week, experiencing three of my bucket list items in such a short time.
Arriving at Kumbh Mela in the middle of the night
Thousands of devotees
The Ganges river
Running through the Deserts
Since I started running multi-stage ultramarathons in the desert, the Atacama Crossing had been on my mind. This high-altitude desert in South America is considered the driest place on Earth. The course winds between canyons, salt flats, sand dunes, and terrain that looks like running on another planet. The landscape features snow-peaked volcanoes, and the stars are so bright at night that one of the biggest telescopes on Earth is located here. It's 250km of self-supported adventure in 6 stages. I ran this race in Chile at the beginning of April with two friends I met at Marathon des Sables last year, and I was lucky to also share a tent with two great runners from Spain. It was challenging, it was fun, and the ultimate reward was eating pizza and drinking a Coke right after crossing the finish line in the main square of San Pedro de Atacama.
Start of Atacama Crossing
Nighttime at camp
Volcanos and canyons
The Atacama desert
On the way back home from the Atacama Crossing, I contracted COVID for the first time. I tested positive on a Saturday, and I had signed up to run a qualifying marathon the next day. Despite feeling terrible, I managed to run a full marathon the following Sunday at Wenatchee, Washington (after testing negative again a few times). Just four days later, I was on a flight from Frankfurt to Windhoek, Namibia on the West Coast of Southern Africa for the first edition of MDS Raid Namibia.
Visiting the Skeleton Coast of Namibia and the Namib Desert was another item on my bucket list. I had barely recovered from the Atacama Crossing, COVID, and the Wenatchee Marathon when it was time to put on my desert racing kit and go on another self-supported running adventure.
Running up sand dunes
Bivouac
Sand and sea
The Skeleton Coast
The race was in three stages, with a total of four days running 120km. We got to spend the night in the middle of stage two under the stars, without a tent. There were dozens of massive sand dunes that we had to run up and down, but the highlight of the race was running along a stretch of beach sandwiched between the South Atlantic Ocean and the dunes of the Namib Desert, all while watching sea lions on the beach and whales breaching offshore. With a cool, light breeze and a beautiful blue sky, it was perfect. This was my first trip to Namibia, and I would really like to go back for a long bike-touring trip.
Finishing MDS Raid Namibia
Comrades Marathon
June is the time of my yearly pilgrimage to South Africa to run the Comrades Marathon. This year was a "downhill" run from Pietermaritzburg to Durban, and the longest one I've done so far, at just 20 meters shy of 90km. This was my sixth finish, getting me closer to my green number (after 10 finishes, my bib number will be green, and the number will be retired, exclusively for me).
The start of Comrades
South African sunrise
IP 349, Ultreia
Commissioning Ultreia
Since I was a little boy, I've felt a calling from the sea as strong as the one from the mountains. Throughout my life, I've sailed tens of thousands of nautical miles, mostly single-handed. I live by the sea, and every time I'd see a sailboat, I felt I was destined to sail again. The boat that I owned 14 years ago was an Island Packet 380. I'm convinced that Island Packets are the best blue-water sailboats, and in 2023, I got in touch with the factory to see if it was possible to get on their schedule to build an IP 349. The build took nearly two years, after multiple delays from hurricanes hitting Florida and later because of import tariffs, but in July 2025, the boat was finally commissioned. The name I chose for the boat: Ultreia.
The name is very meaningful to me. Ultreia means “beyond” or “further on.” I came upon the phrase Ultreia et Suseia from learning and studying about the Camino de Santiago, the ancient pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela. Nowadays, pilgrims tell each other "Buen Camino." But hundreds of years ago they would say Ultreia! and the reply would be "et Suseia," meaning "and upwards." I believe that just one word, Ultreia, perfectly summarizes the spirit of adventure and of wanting to always go beyond.
Singlehanded Sailing
Ultreia on the Sailish Sea
Back to Basics
After dedicating myself almost exclusively to running for half a year, I thought it would be smart to give my not-so-young body a break and set myself a different kind of challenge. I decided to focus this summer on endurance bike rides. The ones I chose were: STP (Seattle To Portland) and RSVP (Ride Seattle to Vancouver and Party). STP was a 330km ride in July and RSVP was 305km over two days. The elevation gain is moderate on both rides. On RSVP, we get the additional experience of crossing the US-Canada border by bike.
STP
RSVP
Paramotor in Valle de Bravo
I started a project last year to build my "forever" touring bike—the bike I will ride forever. I started with a frame set I ordered from Panorama Bicycles in Canada and, little by little, I built it with the components that I thought would be ideal for long adventures on the road. The bike is now finished, and I hope to take it on great new adventures on two wheels.
That's what I've been up to during the first half of 2025, besides working, studying anthropology, and being the best father and husband I can be. Balance in life is everything.
Ultreia et Suseia