Mountains. I’ve always loved them – mighty, careless, unshakable. They make me feel part of something bigger. But somewhere in the middle of the Pyrenees, grinding uphill on a bike loaded with 15kg of gear, I almost began to question that devotion. I even questioned the whole thing – what was the point of doing this bike journey at all?

I had long dreamt of doing a long-distance cycling trip – to experience adventure, nature, and freedom. But in my head, I came up with all sorts of excuses not to do it: work, my relationship, societal norms and so on. 

Then, in the summer of 2024, my close friend Jonathan passed away after a short and brutal battle with cancer. Amid the grief, the months that followed became a period of reflection. I often stopped to think about what truly matters in life. What gives meaning? Where do I want to spend my time and energy? 

Although we all know this on an intellectual level, his passing was a stark reminder of life’s impermanence.

Raising funds on the long road south 

Almost a year later, I found myself pedalling out of Stockholm, not quite knowing what I had gotten myself into, but full of excitement and determination. I had quit my job, had the full support of my partner, and frankly didn’t care much about norms or other people’s opinions. 

And although I cycled solo, it was important for me to somehow bring Jonathan along. Honouring his memory by raising funds for charity throughout the journey felt like a natural way to extend the kindness and generosity he embodied. 

Knowing how deeply he cared about the world and the well-being of all living things, choosing the Good Food Institute as one of the organisations for the fundraiser felt like a fitting tribute.

He had also developed a growing interest in alternative proteins following his decision years earlier to become vegetarian.

Inspired by generosity

There are so many good things to say about Jonathan. 

He was a wonderful friend with a unique ability to spread warmth, joy, and genuine presence to everyone around him. He was also generous in ways that went far beyond the ordinary – generous with his time, his care, and his strong drive to help others. Among other things, he regularly donated a portion of his salary to organisations working to make the world a better place.

Memories of Jonathan followed me throughout the ride. I often thought back to the time we spent together in a rural, mountainous region of the Philippines during our master’s thesis research. 

We spent a day with a social enterprise working to empower small-scale farmers. That experience had a lasting impact and made us realise the importance of forging a stronger link to the food we eat. Later, cooking and food became one of Jonathan’s passions. 

Even during the spring of 2024, when he was sick, he somehow found energy to take online cooking classes.

What type of food he put into his body seemed like one of the few things he could still control when everything else was falling apart. He often spoke with his family about turning this passion into a career once he recovered. Sadly, this dream never materialised, but hopefully his enthusiasm can inspire others. 

River deep – mountain high

Three months and 6,000km after leaving Stockholm, I arrived in Lisbon. 

The journey was, in many ways, an extraordinary experience. The beautiful and varied nature we so easily take for granted impressed me every single day. The kindness and generosity people showed along the way will stay with me for a long time – strangers helping me fix my bike, offering me a bed, or simply shouting encouragement from a car window. 

There were also many hours of solitude in the saddle, just me and my thoughts. Over time, I learned to appreciate the stillness, the chance to reflect, and the simple act of being present in the experience.

And then, back in the Pyrenees, pushing up those steep ascents, I searched for a remedy to my fading motivation and energy levels. I kept returning to the idea of impermanence. 

Just like every moment in life – and life itself – even the longest uphill eventually ends. Although difficult, perhaps the lesson is to meet every struggle, every uphill challenge, as an opportunity to be a little more present and truly feel the pain. Because if we do, those moments can be the ones where we feel most alive. 

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