Singletrack/MTB
Gravel/All-road
Dirt-road Touring
Fat-bike
Alaska Divide is a 1,700-kilometer (1,056-mile) unsupported bikepacking adventure from Anchorage to Deadhorse. Just three riders completed the route this year, overcoming frozen roads, torrential downpours, and drivetrain-eating mud. Bernarda Juric was the first to finish with a time of 8 days, 2 hours, and 29 minutes. Find her story here…
Intro by TransBike Adventures, photos by Bernarda Juric
Alaska Divide is a race that spans 1,760 kilometers and 18,000 vertical meters of climbing. This ride is for those seeking to take on one of Earth’s most remote and challenging cycling routes. From the bustling city of Anchorage on the Cook Inlet to the isolated outpost of Deadhorse on the edge of Prudhoe Bay, the journey traverses the beauty of Alaska’s diverse ecosystems. Riders will move from the lush subarctic forests of southern Alaska to the untamed tundra north of the Arctic Circle, passing through some of the world’s most breathtaking landscapes.
The Dalton Highway, a critical stretch of this route, offers a true test of resilience. Originally built as a supply road for trucks serving the oil fields, this rugged path from Fairbanks to Deadhorse stretches over 220 miles of remote gravel road with no services and only three tiny settlements along the way: Coldfoot, Wiseman, and Deadhorse. Civilization is a distant memory, and the wilderness is vast and unforgiving. This is the realm of grizzly bears, moose, and caribou—a land where nature reigns supreme.
The Alaska Divide is for experienced cyclists; all participants must complete a detailed questionnaire. Those who meet the criteria will earn a spot at the starting line of a race that promises to test their endurance and redefine their sense of adventure. This year’s race was the wettest edition yet, adding another layer of challenge to an already grueling course. Despite the harsh conditions, Bernarda Jurić was the first rider to finish in Deadhorse, showcasing remarkable resilience and determination.
Six Days of Rain on the Alaska Divide
Words by Bernarda Juric
In 2023, I got frostbite on my toes on the Alaska Divide, so I accepted help from a third party, admitted my mistake, and got disqualified. I have spent some time thinking about my participation this year. Without saying too much about where I was going, I started Alaska Divide 2024, of course, with a lot of respect, with better rain protection clothing, especially better gloves (I had three pairs), better protection for all the power cables for the lights, the Garmin, for the USB connector, extra batteries for the light on my helmet. I equipped myself with a big brush with solid nylon bristles for cleaning the drivetrain, more chain oil, and bigger rags.
After the first 90 kilometers without rain, the next six days and 1,200 kilometers were spent pedaling in the rain and on extremely muddy roads to Coldfoot Camp on the Dalton Highway. The roads were dominated by dirt, clay, and sand mixed together. All of it stuck to the bike. In some areas, it was impossible to ride; even pushing was very hard and slow, and the kilometers were going nowhere, just the clock was getting faster and faster. I arrived at Coldfoot Camp Trucker’s Cafe after six days somewhere around midnight, wet, muddy, cold, hungry, and sleepy. I decided to continue cycling when the rain stopped; luckily, it would clear up the next day. Still, I knew it was snowing on the Atigun Pass at 4,739 feet (1,444 meters), the highest pass that’s open all year. I was happy about the snow; anything is better than rain.
From Coldfoot to my destination in Prudhoe Bay, I was only 400 kilometers away from wild nature (the only element of civilization being the oil pipeline). The road to Atigun Pass was snow-covered and icy, so I pushed my bike up and down for a few kilometers, but as I love snow, I didn’t mind. I planned to stop as little as possible and reach my destination without resting for over half an hour. Near Happy Valley (about 130 kilometers before the finish, I almost fell asleep on the bike), I fought against sleepiness with my singing talent. After 32 hours of pushing the pedals, I arrived at the finish. The temperature was well below zero degrees Celsius. I handed my phone for a photo to the first person who came by, and at the end of Dalton Highway, I sat down in the mud, threw my hands in the air, and congratulated myself.
The registration questionnaire for the 2025 Alaska Divide is open now. Learn more at AlaskaDivide.com.
Further Reading
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