Venturing through Siberia on a bicycle, what does it feel like?
An extreme adventure of a lone man traversing the frozen Siberia on a bicycle.
Lorenzo Barone, a 23-year-old from Italy, is currently heading towards the remote village of Yurong Kaya, located on the world’s northernmost road.
He braved the depths of Siberia in midwinter, challenging the limits of possibility. Lorenzo Barone, the 23-year-old Italian, embarked on an extreme challenge of cycling over 2,000 kilometers on one of the world’s coldest roads, where temperatures plunge below -50°C.
Starting from Magadan in mid-January (10,200 kilometers east of Moscow) on his bicycle, he completed a 52-day journey in complete solitude, crossing one of the coldest places on Earth, Oymyakon, before reaching Yakutsk (8,400 kilometers from Moscow).
Tent, camping stove, mattress, sleeping bag—the equipment Lorenzo loaded onto his steel bike was all geared for enduring long nights in the snow and vast emptiness.
In December 2020, after a few months’ break, Lorenzo resumed his long journey from Pokrovsk, a town near Yakutsk, receiving a call, “Sometimes someone offers me shelter, but most of the time, I sleep in my tent,” he said. His goal was to traverse an additional 2,700 kilometers using the world’s northernmost road, aiming to reach the village of Yurong Kaya.
Unexpected changes to his plans: Due to border closures during the pandemic, returning to Italy became impossible. Winter brought short daylight hours, negligible differences between day and night temperatures, occasionally dropping to -55°C, turning the adventure into an adventure within an adventure.
“In cycling under such low temperatures, one must be 100% focused. Pay attention to breathing levels, constantly check the sensitivity of nose, fingers, and toes,” Lorenzo explains.
“At the beginning of the adventure, I would sleep for 6 to 7 hours, wake up feeling happy and excited about the journey, depart around 4 to 5 in the morning, and camp again before it got dark in the evening. However, with each passing week, fatigue increased, and I learned not to push too hard. Waking up in the tent, everything covered in frost from my breath, became a routine.”
To cope with such extreme temperatures, Lorenzo wears Alpine gear—special boots capable of withstanding up to -73°C (“But at -45°C, my little toe started feeling cold,” he chuckles), sweatshirts, thermal jerseys, and a very sturdy jacket. “It’s essential not to sweat and keep clothes dry. I carry minimal luggage, just one change of clothes.”
During his journey, chance encounters with locals occasionally broke the solitude. “In Russia, truck drivers offer coffee, park their cars to give me chocolates or bread; they are very kind and hospitable. I was hosted by a man, but he didn’t want me to leave as he thought I was too cold. It was mid-January, and it was -45°C. I told him it would be too long to resume the journey until spring.”
To overcome language barriers, he utilizes gestures and technology. “I downloaded an offline translation app and an offline translation device. I write, and it translates for me. It’s not perfect, but it gets the message across.”
“What was the most challenging moment?” “When I realized the face mask I used in Lapland couldn’t withstand Siberia’s cold. My nose got frostbite. I couldn’t feel anything even when I hammered nails,” he recalls. However, this problem, encountered in his travels across 43 countries in three years, was solved by his wit and imagination. “By improving the face mask, I can now use it without it fogging or freezing even at -50°C. Such details changed my life,” he shares on his blog, showcasing the modified mask.
“It drops to -25°C at night, but it’s getting warmer,” he writes on his blog in mid-March. It’s now a race against time. He has to cross frozen rivers in the next month to reach Yuryung Kaya. People he met warned him about many wolves on the way after Milne and bears waking up from hibernation by the end of March. “Yakutia is a wild place; here, nature reigns.” To ward off wolves at night, he ties a red flag rope around his tent.
On March 27, he writes, “Today, after completing a 414-kilometer stretch with no inhabited villages, I arrived in Udachny. Unexpectedly, while passing through a small ghost village of abandoned Soviet buildings with broken windows, a man called out to me. At first, I couldn’t see him, but he caught up, explained he worked at a gas company with others, and invited me to stay there. These past five days were essentially with silence as my only companion. I’ve covered a total of 1,759 kilometers, with just over 1,000 kilometers left to the finish, but as I’ve said, the most difficult part has just begun.”
To those who call him an extreme cyclist, he responds, “I’m not an extreme traveler. If there’s something I want to do, I just do it. At least I try my best.”
