When an impulsive winter S24O trip earlier this year required a fatbike, a fair amount of bikedragging was to be expected. Being so last minute, the only option left to rent was a full squish Trek a size or two too small in glacial blue. Armed with such, I set off from the most conservative place to park, resulting in an absurd amount of bikepushing before the sun clocked out for the day.

Morning katabatic blasts bellowed bonjour with continued bikepulling through waist-deep snowdrifts tag-teamed with slick ice and the too frequent blind launch off sastrugi as if my goggles were Ganzfield instead of 62% VLT. When bumping into the region of caloric deficit, thoughts of being swallowed up by splitting ice are only too frequent.

And then I saw the calved icebergs frozen in freshwater and everyone lived happily ever after (!)