Julian Crabtree recently became the first Brit/South African to tackle Alaska's famed Iditarod. He completed the Serum Run on foot - a 1100 mile run across the Alaskan wilderness - dragging all his equipment on a sled.

Suffering from frostbite, he battled snow storms and temperatures of -40 degrees, 70 mph winds, total white-outs, blizzards and wild animals. And the most amazing thing of all is he did it all to raise funds for disabled rugby players...

ExtremeSports365 got the opportunity to interview this amazing adventurer...

Not quite a marathon runner, more of a rugby player who has possibly been concussed once too often!

Training was extremely difficult as it is hard to actually fathom how far the distance is. It's not like I can run that distance in training...or even half of it. I had to get used to being on my feet - day in day out. It wasn't only the distance that worried me, it was the conditions. Minus 40'C is not exactly the type of weather I experienced growing up in Durban, South Africa.

I went to the Brecon Beacons down in Wales and just made myself as miserable as possible. I ran up and down Peny -Y Fan fifty-four times, much to the dismay of the SAS trainees. I also did various 24 hour run/walk/crawls.

To get used to dragging my sled, I dragged several tyres around with me... mainly around the streets of London at 3 in the morning. I did get stopped by the police a couple of times, who were very suspicious at first, but became supportive.

I went to Czech Republic to test all my equipment, which was essential. One of the key things for any sort of expedition in these climates is being able to make and break camp as quickly as possible. In those temperatures you don't want to be dilly-dallying around. Speed is essential.

I did not take a tent for this reason - when you are tired and exhausted the last thing you want is to start putting up a tent. I had a bivvy bag and a -40 sleeping bag. It was a matter of unrolling it and climbing straight in for a few hours kip. Getting up was the worst, inevitably my eyelids would have frozen together, and it always took me a while to warm-up.

I got loads of advice from Andy Heading, a Brit who did it on a bike before, and another South African called Russel Hansen who competed the 350 distance on a bike in 2001. Both were extremely helpful and went out of their way to help me.

Part of my training was to put on weight... not muscle, but fat. I needed some 'padding'. I was getting up at four in the morning to drink these weight-gain shakes. I put on two stone, making me the fattest and fittest I have ever been!

In Alaska I had to eat 6,000 calories a day to survive. Basically every 15-20 minutes I was chomping on chocolates, nuts or good old biltong!

Water was also very important too. Dehydration can cause frostbite. I needed to learn to melt snow to make water and to make sure it did not freeze. I had one of those camel backs that went underneath most of my clothes. The tube was insulated, but I still had to make sure to blow back after I had finished drinking. This made sure that the water in the tube did not freeze.

Definitely! It was the one of the greatest experiences of my life.

The funny thing was, I shouldn't have been there and they almost did not let me start. It is an invitational race and to do it, you have to qualify. First you do their 100 mile race. After a couple of years you do the 350 mile one. Once you have mastered that you move on to the 1100 race.

Obviously if you have done similar races around the world they will take that into consideration. The two organisers both thought the other one had checked out my credentials... they were a bit shocked that I hadn't done anything like this before. They said that I could do the 100 miler, if I managed that then I could do the 350 one... and then they would see.

I spent a lot of the time convinced they were going to pull me out at any minute. It's funny how your mind works when it is pushed to the limit.

I enjoyed discovering myself again too. There is no room for false bravado - you strip away all the masks you've put on and discover exactly who you are and what you are made of. I kind of liked the man I found.

I think the worst was going through the blizzard. I was alone and terrified. There were winds that knocked me to my knees, I could not see my hand in front of my face -- it was terrifying. Sometimes you get hit by a gust of wind and you think to yourself that it will die down...this didn't. It just got worse and worse.

I was scared that even if I stopped to climb into my bivvy bag and sleeping bag I would die, you need to eat every fifteen minutes to generate enough heat. Dehydration is also a major problem, and because I was so tired, I had neglected to take in enough fuel.

Stopping was not an option. It was too cold and I would have not of been able to get into my bag. I actually took a picture of myself thinking that it was going to be the last one of me.

I had this mantra that I moved to: 'Stop and Die'.

It was supposed to keep me going and spur me in to moving, to keep my mind focussed on not stopping. But it soon took on a whole more sinister meaning. It became comforting and welcoming... I started to think that lying down in the snow and closing my eyes was not such a bad idea,after all -   it sounded quite tempting actually.

At that time I started to hallucinate too.

I saw a cabin just ahead... it never got any closer. Then my dad appeared. He gave me some words of encouragement and then moved off with a steaming mug of coffee. It was so real and I was convinced that I really had seen him.

It was a few days later that I realised that he couldn't have been there - he was wearing shorts, a T-shirt and slops!

The whole trip. There were many memorable moments, from the Northern Lights to seeing wolves.

Probably the feeling I remember the most was seeing a sign that said '10 miles to Nome'. It was the only sign I saw the whole trip. I had planned and trained for two years to get here, but I was incredibly sad to finally have the end in sight. Part of me, a huge part, wanted to turn around and head back into the wilderness.

My friendship with Alex Bellini and Tom Possert (two other racers) was also special. Tom was an inspiration and helped me a lot. Alex and I teamed up after the first week and looked out for each other.

So many times we were shoulder to shoulder both of us locked in our own personally battles with our demons. We had some frightening moments too. Being lost on the Yukon in a white-out at three in the morning, hearing the ice crack and shudder beneath us.

One of the things I remember was making it to a checkpoint. We went in for some delicious hot soup that was in a pot. The owner asked us to take it outside after we had finished (the world's largest fridge). Neither of us could lift the pot by ourselves... we were so exhausted that it took both of us to get this pot to the door. Halfway we started giggling and it took us about ten minutes to get it sorted.

The good times made us friends, but the hard times - the times we thought were our last - made us brothers.

Well, I've given up on the Springboks calling me up!

I'm currently training for a record attempt at a solo crossing from London to Paris. I plan to run from Marble Arch in London down to Dover (140 kilometres), swim the channel (35.5 km) and then cycle from Calais to the Arc de Triomphe in Paris (290 kilometres). It's a sort of ultra-ironman I suppose. Only three people have done it before, and I would love to break the 80 hour World record. I hope to raise money for Starfish, a charity who helps children affected by the Aids/HIV epidemic in South Africa.

I am also looking at an Atlantic row... ideally from Cape Town to New York, but I need to see if that is possible first.

There is also a North Pole trip planned, a kayak of the North West passage, plus a return to Alaska - I want to do a sort of 'Going to Extremes' adventure. Do something at -40 and then hop on a plane and head to a desert race, possibly the Marathon Des Sables and do something at +40 degrees.