Climbing and Mountaineering

I started climbing at about the age of 14 in chalk - not limestone - quarries in Kent using a clothes line and a lot of luck. An interregnum of many years then saw me learning to climb again on an artificial wall in Amersham. Then came a stunning week with my mate, Barry Roberts, in Chamonix where, just after the Larzac horse-ride, we climbed more or less everything that stood still, ending with the Cosmic Arete on the Aiguille du Midi.

Round and about, I've started back in on the Lake climbs, Snowdonia and, in 2002, the Alps with one 4,000 metre peak with Laura (see picture above) and an epic on an apparently simple peak further up the Saas Grund valley. After a horrendous time, just when we thought we were safe, Laura slipped on a boulder on the descent and tore her medial meniscus. We self-rescued (we're Brits, right?) but the saga ended in a hospital in the UK and a £3,000 bill.

Climbing and mountaineering are hard; that's why you do it. In many cases you push yourself - like so many outdoor pursuits - and the buzz is in the controllable hazard. But to stand on a mountain peak is to experience something beyond; you do not conquer mountains, you give thanks they allow you the view. With rock it's simpler: you give thanks you've made a safe passage (and not lost any gear on the way).

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