BASE # 07

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Features

Fea t u res

16 3 2 D E G R E E S N O R T H

66 THE I R I S

Cycling and surfing on the Atlantic Island of Madeira

Allowing the adventure

Sami Sauri & Sergio Villalba

to get in the way of documentation Karla Ann Charlton & Tom Jay

22 T R A F F I C J A M

How the underside of one of the UK’s major roads became

68 T Y N E T R A V E L L E R

the temporary centre of the crack-climbing universe

An upriver assault on the river Tyne

Mark Bullock & Ray Wood

Fenwick Ridley & Luke Douglas

32 R U N N I N G O U T O F R O A D

A blueprint to take trail running to the next level

Reg u l a rs

Tom Hill

48 A D E E P E R U N D E R S T A N D I N G

14 B A S E N O T E S

underwater cave systems

BASE

The latest in adventure

Lessons in facing the unknown in Mexico’s Ben Horton

42 T H E B A S E I N T E R V I E W

Hannah Bailey talks with Aysha Sharif about the

54 F I N D I N G C A L M Zen and the art of belaying

importance of community-based adventure groups

58 S A V A G E P A R A D I S E

76 M A K E R S A N D I N N O V A T O R S

- Yukon Territory

environmentally friendly wetsuit innovation

Hannah Bailey

Hazel Findlay

The problem with neoprene: a closer look at

Packraft exploration of the Tatonduk Valley

Chris Hunt

David Weimer

Cont ri b u t ors Sami Sauri

Sergio Villalba Mark Bullock Ray Wood

Karla Ann Charlton Fenwick Ridley

Luke Douglas

Hannah Bailey Ben Horton Tom Hill

David Weimer Adam Raja

Amira Patel

Al Mackinnon Tim Davis

Hazel Findlay

David Pickford Tom Jay

Editor Chris Hunt

Brand Director Matthew Pink

Designer Joe Walczak

Enquiries hello@base-mag.com

Digital Writer and Sub-Editor Hannah Mitchell Publishing Director Emily Graham

Social Media Manager Sam Andrews

Publisher Secret Compass

Submissions submissions@base-mag.com Advertising emily@base-mag.com

COVER: Sami Sauri rides through one of Maderia’s many waterfalls cascading onto the swithchbacks of the road below. From 32 Degrees North on page 16. SERGIO VILLALBA

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EDITOR’S COMMENTS Sprin g 2022 - t he c ha se Photography | Ed Smith / Coldhouse

I

’m sat in my garden, short sleeves, no shoes. My legs are

For me, spring is all about the excitement of what’s to

crossed, my feet are on the table. Spring has finally arrived,

come. It’s a feeling I try and force at the turn of the year but

My WhatsApp lights up with photos from friends in

positive Coronavirus test on January 2nd certainly didn’t help

at least here in the south of England.

Cornwall. The South West has seen an uncharacteristically long run of good waves with light offshore winds and

never quite seems to materialise. Kicking things off with a in 2022 – I’m sure I’m not alone there.

So welcome to issue 07 of BASE. From river trekking the

beaming sunshine. I also have one eye on the snow forecast

waterways of Northumberland to the bizarre world of crack-

temperatures forecast to be as low as -17ºC on the hill, winter it

Atlantic island of Madeira to learning how to make genuine

for the Cairngorms, headed that way in just a few days. With seems has different ideas around predictable seasonality.

In truth, we have one final descent into winter around

this time every year, but the fact does nothing to dampen

my surprise each year when it happens. Spring, it seems, is predictably unpredictable.

In the UK, we’re used to fleeting conditions and

climbing urban infrastructure, a cycle-surf adventure on the adventure of running – we hope these pages will inspire and encourage you to get outside and see the opportunities on your

doorstep a little differently. To feel inspired by challenge and give you the confidence to go out and be crap at something new – something we could all probably learn to be a little better at.

We didn’t start the process of curating this issue with a

frustratingly short-lived opportunities. I’ve often caught myself

theme in mind, but it wasn’t long before we had a pretty

activities here – the selfishness and ruthless obsession which

a genuine eye-opening celebration of the different adventure,

moaning about the annoyances of pursuing condition based they require.

But I suspect the fleeting nature of ‘proper conditions’

on this island is partly to blame for the maintenance of our

investment. The chase is as much a part of the activity itself and

substantial list of contenders. Working on this issue has felt like

the geographical corners they occupy and the individuals which

make up our community, so a massive thank you to all of those who put their trust in us by submitting work.

Chris Hunt, BASE Editor

it sweetens the awards when they do arrive. It’s the seasoning to the UK’s unique version of outdoor adventure and I’m sure as a result the smiles are bigger.

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14

BA S E N OT ES The l a t est i n a d vent u re

Shackelton’s Endurance is found In March 2022, more than a century after the historic ship was crushed by ice and sank, the Endurance, the lost vessel of Antarctic explorer Sir Ernest Shackleton, was found. With the use of underwater drones, the wreck of the Endurance was located at the bottom of the Weddell Sea, at a depth of 3,008 metres – approximately four miles south of the position originally recorded by the ship’s captain, Frank Worsley.

Upon location, the expedition’s director of exploration Mensun Bound described the discovery as ‘the finest wooden shipwreck I have ever seen. It is upright, well proud of the seabed, intact, and in a brilliant state of preservation. You can even see Endurance arced across the stern, directly below the taffrail. This is a milestone in polar history.’

Preet Chandi – first woman of colour to ski to South Pole In another polar milestone, skiing 700 miles from Hercules Inlet, ‘Polar’ Preet reached the South Pole in just 40 days, 7 hours and 3 minutes. This makes her the third fastest female solo skier to cross Antarctica.

Enduring temperatures as low as -50ºC with wind speeds of up to 60mph, while pulling a 90kg sled, the 32-year-old smashed all expectation during a season which saw a number of expeditions fail to reach their goals. Preet managed to shave five days off her predicted arrival date in the first expedition to reach the South Pole in two years.

Chris Brown – first person to reach the African pole of inaccessibility Generally speaking, the pole of inaccessibility marks the most challenging spot to reach – often that refers to the most distant point from the coastline. Each continent has its own, for Africa, that spot is deep in the bush of the Central African Republic, more than 1,100 miles from the nearest coast.

The CAR is a hugely unstable region with reports of violence, reprisal killings, looting, human rights abuse and kidnappings all very much a reality. Not far from the border with South Sudan, the region in which the pole of inaccessibility lies, is one known for its poachers, rebels and Soviet mercenaries.

On December 6, after years of planning, British adventurer Chris Brown became the first person to reach the African pole of inaccessibility in what was a logistically complex and dangerous expedition.

Jet suit paramedics to take flight in Lake District this summer Individual jet propulsion is perhaps one of the most cliché concepts of ‘the future’ – something generally more at home in the Marvel universe or in spy movies than reality, but this year, jet suits will be introduced to the Great North Air Ambulance service operating in the Lake District.

While getting a helicopter or climbing fells on foot to reach an injured patient typically takes around 30 minutes, it’s understood that by using these jet packs, paramedics can be on the scene in as little as 90 seconds. The fully-3D printed polypropylene suit utilises three small propulsion jets which produce up to 144kg of thrust so medics can ascend quickly, ultimately improving patient survivability in inaccessible environments.

‘There are dozens of patients every month within the complex but relatively small geographical footprint of the Lakes. We could see the need,’ explains Andy Mawson, Director of Operations for GNAAS, who came up with the concept for the suits. ‘What we didn’t know for sure was how this would work in practice. Well we’ve seen it now and it is, quite honestly, awesome.’

Jasmin Paris – first woman to complete the Barkley Marathons Fun Run in 9 years The Barkley Marathons is brutal. A near impossible ultrarunning event comprised of 5 loops of the same gruelling, navigationally challenging circuit. More often than not, the event closes without a finisher. If you’ve not seen the Netflix documentary The Barkley Marathons: The Race That Eats Its Young through which the race rose to fame, we highly recommend that you do.

In 2022, there was once again no winner, no one to successfully complete the five laps. But in her first attempt at the race, British ultra runner Jasmin Paris – who in 2019 won the Montane Spine Race whilst expressing breastmilk for her then-14 month old child at checkpoints – was the last woman standing and the first woman to complete the event’s Fun Run category (3 out of the 5 loops) in nine years.

‘A good few hours of the first loop were genuinely enjoyable with the sun shining and a lovely Barkleys veteran for company,’ says Jasmin. ‘The rest was largely Type 2 Fun!’ She completed three laps with a time of 39hrs 49mins 56 secs – just over 10 minutes inside the cut-off for a Fun Run.

FACING PAGE: Richard Browning from Gravity Industries, the company behind the design of the new jet suit, testing its capabilities. GREAT NORTH AIR AMBULANCE SERVICE

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32 DEGREES NORTH Cycli n g an d surfi n g o n t he At la n t i c I sla n d o f M a d e i ra Story | Sami Sauri

Photography | Sergio Villalba

I N A S S O C I AT I O N W I T H

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Sami Sauri is in love with two things: riding bikes and riding waves. After a tough year of lockdowns at home in Girona, Spain, she knew

she had to get out and reconnect with them both. With its tarmac switchbacks, rolling mountainous gravel and 360 degrees of coastline, the Atlantic island of Madeira would be the the perfect fit.

T

he plan was pretty straightforward, with my board

The next morning I was cooked, and I dreaded the day

strapped to a trailer, I’d ride a lap of the entire island

ahead. There was so much climbing to be done but the tank

more famous spots, to stumble across something new and meet

it started right away, the road went straight up from the very

looking for the best waves. I wanted to hit some of the island’s

local communities along the way.

Even from the plane, we could see those crazy coastal

climbs winding up and down, cutting through every shade of

green. Stepping onto the runway, it was so humid it felt like we’d arrived in the jungle.

was already empty. It was going to be the day from hell. And

first pedal stroke. It took me several hours to get up the first

section of the first climb. It felt like it would never end and as soon as it did, the wind and the fog arrived right on cue. Right when I needed it the least.

Arriving on the south coast, the sea was totally flat.

A friend of mine in the Canary Islands had made a me

According to the forecast though, that evening it looked like

partner in crime – strapped to my makeshift trailer along with

had to complete the loop, so I put my head down and just kept

special board specifically for this trip. So this was to be my my wetsuit and towel. When we found waves, I’d be changed and ready to go in less than a minute.

the big swell would arrive on the other side of the island. We the pedals turning.

When I rode into the island capital Funchal, we received

Setting off, I was full of excitement. With the ocean

a call to say the waves were good on the east side of the island,

flowers of all different species. It was only through the pure

make it before dark and this was our last chance to surf so

almost always visible, we were surrounded by millions of

joy of being there that I could drag myself, my bike, trailer and board up and down those climbs. But it didn’t come easy.

I had come into the trip off the back of an injury, several

months of non-stop work and some mental health struggles,

so my fitness and mindset wasn’t as good as it could be. It was

almost right back where we’d started. There was no way I’d

we couldn’t miss it. We made the call to pack up the car including the bike and trailer and head straight there. I got two amazing hours of surfing right up to sunset and like that, the trip was done.

How we choose to spend our time is important. And on

never going to be an easy trip. I knew that, having seen the

condensed trips like this, with the clock constantly ticking,

the water was just what I needed.

wisely but it doesn’t always go to plan.

elevation profile on komoot, but some time on the bike and in The second day brought the first opportunity to surf but

with a huge swell forecast for later in the week, I was nervous.

Madeira is famous for its big waves but I was just hoping for something a bit more cruisey on my singe-fin. Soon enough,

it can feel like a metaphor for life. We calculate what we can

This wasn’t a trip to chase a record or even to complete a

challenge of any kind. I went to chase what I love in the hope we might inspire some people to do the same.

after a big winding descent down to the ocean, we found some

playful waves. After a quick surf, I was back on the bike. With a big salty grin, I rode until sundown.

PREVIOUS PAGES: After climbing 1300m over just 23km, this gravel track shortcut was too good to turn down – until I rolled the trailer and lost my phone that is.

THIS PAGE: I knew Madeira was hilly but when I planned the route around the island I hadn’t really taken the trailer into account and oh boy, were those climbs steep!

FACING PAGE UPPER: I couldn’t believe how fun that first surf was. The feeling inside me was something I hadn’t felt in a long time and something I hold very precious.

The energy of the sea is always magic. The waves weren’t even that good but it was such a beautiful time.

FACING PAGE CENTRE: Although the days were pretty warm, this is still the Atlantic so the sea was pretty cold. Still, it was nice to have the opportunity to get off the bike and dive in every now and then, even if being covered in salt made the riding that bit less comfortable.

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Sami’s route taken from her komoot collection.

To find out more, scan the QR code.

SPONSOR ED CON TEN T IN ASSOCI AT ION W IT H

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FACING PAGE UPPER: I was so relieved to make the top of this climb but the fog soon surrounded me, making it really disorienting. It felt like a movie.

FACING PAGE CENTRE: The landscape here is so unique, it felt like I was in Jurassic Park. It’s so green, so vast and so much water all around on such a tiny island.

FACING PAGE LOWER: This spot on the east coast was a black sand beach which made it look and feel so different to the other spots on the island. A friend of mine that runs a local bike tour company and shop gave me the tip-off about the spot so it was nice to catch up with him here too.

THIS PAGE UPPER LEFT: Exhaustion is a feeling I don’t like. For me, when I’m exhausted, I feel it in my kidneys, my knees and anywhere else that’s starting to feel sore on the bike. But when you’re on the other side, sometimes those bits are the best memories. It’s a love/hate relationship.

THIS PAGE UPPER RIGHT: Riding through a waterfall was something I had never experienced but there were a few on the island I had to go through. It was funny to see people driving through just to wash their cars. The first time I was really cautious so went pretty slow and got absolutely drenched, but I had a few more chances on the trip and soon realised the key was to go faster.

THIS PAGE LOWER: Some of those tunnels were so long and dark, riding through them felt crazy, by cutting through the mountains you could sometimes cut out 1000m of climbing. I don’t think I passed another cyclist on the entire loop, and people must have wondered what the hell I was doing.

SPONSOR ED CON TEN T IN ASSOCI AT ION W IT H

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TRAFFIC JAM How the un d ersi d e of o n e o f t he U K ’s m a jo r ro a d s be c a m e the temporary cen t re o f t he c ra c k- c li m bi n g u n i ve rs e Story | Mark Bullock

Photography | Ray Wood

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In November 2021, professional climbers Tom Randall and Pete Whittaker made an audacious ‘ascent’ of the underside of a near kilometre

long motorway bridge in Devon. And it caused a stir. So much so that it was documented by an international film crew, destined for the big

screen and a global film tour. It was a text – part in jest – from local Mark Bullock that sparked the whole thing, and soon enough the project was unfolding in front of his eyes.

H

is eyes widen when he looks at me. You know the look,

city, relatively scenic - there are bird watchers, and the estuary

‘Holy fucking shitballs, it’s freaking perfect!’ he half-shouts

Topsham to Powderham Castle. But I also run there because

when you can see white all the way around the irises.

above the din. Tom is excited. He downclimbs the railing

and picks up his phone from the small pile of jackets and

opens up as you get closer to the coast giving views from it’s easy, as the locals say ‘flat as a witch’s tit’.

As I passed under the enormous M5 bridge, under which

gear on the metal grate gantry. He begins a video message,

I’d been many times before, I noticed the perfectly engineered

in his expressions and the feverish excitement in his voice.

towers over pasture, wetland reed-beds, river, cycle path

speaking into the phone selfie-style, retaining the mania ‘Pete, this is it, this is the big one, the Motherload, the one

we’ve been searching for all these years, you won’t believe this thing, it’s absolutely frickin’ unreal. Book your flights!’

I’m relieved. Tom has already put what I considered to

be an elaborate amount of time into what might popularly be described as a harebrained scheme. He’s just driven here

gap that ran the entire length of the structure. The bridge

and canal. It’s aesthetically appealing in the way that long

lines often are. But on this occasion it occurred to me that Tom, a friend and professional rock climber, with a serious penchant for cracks, would be interested to see this one. So I photographed it.

The climbing world is small, and I’ve been lucky enough

(Devon) from Sheffield, via Bristol, off the back of a picture

over the years to befriend a few high profile athletes, some

touch a crack in some concrete. He wanted to know this

of the sport. If you’re into football, you’ll never go to the

message. That’s a ten-hour round-trip, just to physically

crack’s exact width, almost to the millimetre. And then he’d walk back to his van and drive home again.

We walked in, crossed some boggy dairy-farmed fields,

then had to divert around a drainage dyke that was too wide to jump, and too deep and murky with thick silt to wade.

The diversion led us into extremely dense undergrowth that I can only describe as jungle. But not pristine rainforest,

this is grubby. There was litter but not from human passage.

I don’t think anyone has been here for decades, this was

litter that had fallen from the motorway above. Nettles and

of them borderline legends. It’s a sort of fond sweetness park and bump into Ronaldo having a kick about, but the

equivalent happens quite regularly in climbing. So I had genuine reservations sending Tom a photo of a motorway

bridge. ‘Can you climb that?’ felt like such a childish, almost

fanboy suggestion. Like asking Ronaldo how many keepy-

uppies he can do. But Tom liked the photo, said ‘wow!’ and was inquisitive, but I assumed he quickly forgot about it as a genuine proposition, and I chastised myself for being childish towards a hardcore pro.

In truth, Tom Randall has more than just a penchant for

thick thorned vines grab at our ankles and tear clothing and

cracks, along with his most trusted partner Pete Whittaker,

clay, makes grabbing at tree vines and hanging branches

Tom and Pete had become affectionately known as The Wide

skin. Steep, slippery, sandy, earthy mudstone, almost like essential.

I had cut my hands twice, and ripped my jacket, and was

glad I’d opted for the rubber armour of wellies, even though

they were wheel-spinning on the soil. “D’you think B&Q sell machetes?” Tom wondered aloud. Throughout this sweaty, bloody bushwhack, I was acutely embarrassed. I’d clearly

he’s one of the very best crack climbers in the world. Together

Boyz, after an eponymous film from 2012 telling the story of

their ambitious attempts to ‘crack’ America, by climbing all of the USA’s hardest crack climbs. Since then they’d partnered

up for many other climbing trips and adventures, all around the world from Norway to Canada.

When lockdown happened, some UK climbers started

brought Tom on a wild goose chase. I kept expecting him

climbing short urban bridges over canals. Exploring close to

he didn’t. He thrashed on through the briar and brambles

the spark of inspiration. After seeing Tom on social media

to turn back, at which point I’d apologise profusely. But

with determined vigour for what seemed a long time. Until suddenly there we were, right underneath the belly of the behemoth. This was recce 1.

Rewind three years to a photo I sent him. I’d been on

a run, a gentle out and back along the Exe-Estuary trail.

I frequently take this route on account of it being out of the

home became a real theme, and this curveball trend reignited climbing canal bridges, I nudged him again about the M5

bridge and this time he was enthused enough to drive south and see it first hand.

On recce 2, we’d borrowed a friend’s SUP to wobble

across the murky dyke and avoided the emotional bushwhack.

Tom took some falls. Just me and him, I held the rope while

PREVIOUS PAGES: Waterlogged pasture at the westerly end of the M5 bridge on the outskirts of Exeter, Devon. This is where Tom and Pete started from.

FACING PAGE: Tom about to place another Blue Wildcountry Friend 3 cam device. It’s quite unusual to have the same size protection for 99% of a route but then so is the concept of climbing the underside of a bridge for nearly a kilometre.

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The illustrious Americans are not going to see any of those sights, only the graffiti and litter, cobwebs and concrete, brambles and cow shit

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It was going to be extremely dirty, grimy, loud and physically strenuous, so to pull off the whole traverse they would have to really, really want it

he placed camming devices (a spring-loaded device that

As professional climbers, it’s in Tom and Pete’s interests

has metal lobes mounted onto an axle, that, when pulled,

that their exploits garner media attention. I knew they’d have

to opposing surfaces) into the crack and made good progress

that initial photo start to feel even more absurd. This is getting

expands to apply force outwards, essentially gripping harder before jumping off to test the cams. Most of them held.

He was falling into the air under the bridge and taking a

relatively safe swing, just experimenting with the cam’s

reliability, ‘bounce testing’ them from the gantry before

setting off to test them ‘for real’. If they held in the slick concrete repeatedly, it was on.

On recce 3, Tom brought Pete, his long-term climbing

partner, and cameraman Paul ‘Diff ’ Diffley. Paul runs a production company called Hot Aches, and is kind of the Grandaddy of the British outdoor and climbing film world.

Pete had flown over from Norway (where he lives with his

girlfriend) after watching Tom’s wild-eyed video message.

wanted photos but an international film crew somehow made out of hand! The whole crew made the bushwhack approach and

I cringed as I heard the Americans (again) curse the thornfest.

We passed underneath an old fashioned metal bathtub, the

kind that has a handle on each end. It was 15 feet up in a tree, and I noticed it was suspended there by a branch that ran right

through one of the handles. My mind asked firstly why that

had been thrown from the motorway, and further questioned

whether the tree branch had grown through the handle at ground level, essentially lifting it to its current position. How else had it managed to be hanging on the branch? Everything felt slightly odd, dreamlike. What on Earth are we doing here?

Devon is home to some truly beautiful coast, some rugged

Things were starting to become a bit surreal, but they weren’t

and picturesque moorland, and boasts genuinely scenic and

The next time the boys drove to Devon, they had Zac

are not going to see any of those sights, only the graffiti and

going to stop there.

Barr and Brett Lowell of Reel Rock in tow. The Americans had flown in from, well, America. They were part of a

globally successful production crew that had filmed multiaward-winning films like The Dawn Wall and The

Alpinist, climbing films that, along with Free Solo, had

broken the mould and made it into mainstream cinemas.

Now, fresh from El Capitan and red carpet premieres,

they were standing in a field full of cowpat in Devon.

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aesthetically beautiful rock climbs. The illustrious Americans

litter, cobwebs and concrete, brambles and cow shit. No ocean soundscape for their movie, only the constant roar of a six lane

motorway. Is this urban exploration? Why is it that climbing

underneath a motorway is a feature-film-worthy exploit?

Not only is this location not the best part of Devon, it’s not

even the best part of Exeter. It’s a big bridge but it’s far from being iconic, and the surroundings are a literal backwater.

It’s not the arse-end of the county, but it’s not far off.

FACING PAGE: Tom’s taped and padded hands. The climbers got through plenty rolls of tape.

THIS PAGE: Tom Randall at the final belay. The welcoming horizontal world is only a few feet away.

He’ll enjoy his shower tonight after four days of dust, oil, fumes, and general grime falling.

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After they committed to the idea, they trained, strategised,

and dedicated significant time to the project. Ultimately, even

after months of dedicated training and the various logistical

conundrums, it was still going to take them four herculean hard days. They’d sleep in a hanging portaledge, eating,

peeing and pooping while suspended, climbing upwards of 12 hours per day. It was going to be extremely dirty, grimy,

loud and physically strenuous, so to pull off the whole traverse they would have to really, really want it.

At the end of day two on their first attempt, I was

collecting pizza for the team when I got a text from Diff:

‘The police are here.’ Zac and I had been taking turns to speak to intrigued passersby and without exception everyone

was amused, bemused, curious and impressed. Cyclists and ramblers perhaps bound for the nearby Turf Locks pub went

on their way wishing us well. But some people telephoned

their concerns to the police, and by a twist of fate the climb was happening at the same time that Extinction Rebellion

were protesting on motorways near London. The police feared a road closure and were straight on the scene.

Brett Lowell, the Brett Lowell, hid in a hedge, taking

his SD cards out of his camera and drone and hiding them in his socks, for fear the footage would be confiscated. As I skulked back with seven large pizzas stacked into a duffel bag

prepared to act as a stranger and walk on by, I found Tom’s

friend Anna Hazelnutt also skulking in the trees about 50 metres away from the team and the police.

The discourse that followed was slightly surreal.

There was even perhaps a little fib from the police, saying

the motorway would be closed, which spooked Zac. Professionally, he didn’t want his film company to be making

the headlines for closing a motorway. During the radio comms to police HQ , a sergeant asked for the climbers’ names, and when he heard them he comically blurted, ‘I know

who they are! Get their autographs and tell them I climb VS!’ The whole conversation was very amiable. The climbers

descended, a bit dejected, and I thought that was game over.

The police suggested we conclude our conversations in the Double Locks pub a little further down the canal. So, the

team slouched to the pub in the gloaming. Tom and Pete snaffled the lukewarm pizza en route, we ordered beers and waited, but the police never showed.

Over the next few weeks Tom and Pete, turned their

dejection into action. They stayed in touch with the supervising sergeant, asking how they could complete the climb ‘more legally’. That discussion eventually led to a green light of sorts, that, whilst not constituting official permission, essentially asked for an awareness of dates when

the climb was going to take place, so that if the public called them, the police could say they were aware, and knew it wasn’t a protest or terrorist incident. They would essentially turn a blind eye.

Tom and Pete seized the window of opportunity to pull

off what they’d later consider to be one of the finest climbs of their entire careers. Which, considering they’ve climbed

at a cutting edge level all around the world for a decade and 28

a half, in some of the most awe-inspiring landscapes and

I was struck by seeing them go after their goal, which was

something. Something about opening our eyes to what’s

a few brambles. It was about not giving up, making something

jaw-dropping National Parks imaginable, is really saying around us, and getting stuck in.

I was hugely impressed by both of the climbers’ capacity

to realise a vision. To see something so huge and ambitious,

that was hiding in plain sight, and then bring it to fruition.

But more than the physical ability and logistical organisation,

about full commitment, about not turning around because of happen however outlandish an idea it might seem. Maybe that’s something we could all do a little more of? Because you

never know, whilst it might not end up being chronicled in an

internationally acclaimed feature film, it may well lead to the pure childish joy of wide-eyed excitement and adventure.

FACING PAGE UPPER: This shot captures the scale of the task. Circa half a mile, 2500 feet (in old money), horizontally.

FACING PAGE LOWER: An impromptu ‘Crack Climbing’ book signing for Pete Whittaker. A crowd had gathered to witness the finish when word got about the climb.

THIS PAGE: Pete, Tori Taylor-Roberts (ground support crew), and Tom deliver their signature celebration on completing the full traverse.

29

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32

RUNNING OUT OF ROAD A bl ueprint to take t ra i l ru nni ng t o t he next l evel Story & Photography | Tom Hill

The simple act of placing one foot in front of the other is the most rudimental of human movement. With minimal kit requirement

and infitine opportunity, altering the speed dial and injecting a touch of both creativity and curiosity can form the framework for

the most accessible of adventures. Exploring running as more than sport, Tom Hill recounts his trail running experiences close to his home in the Pennine Hills and lays out the groundwork for how you can take the step into more adventurous running.

M

y tired eyes met themselves as I stared through the

intensified and all but vanished. I have worked my way through

were fading without the glory of a sunset. Squinting beyond

races and times. I have run-commuted with a rucksack loaded

train window. The last vestiges of light for the day

the jarringly bright reflections of the train interior, and above the softer orange glow of street lamps, my view was one of

dingy, silhouetted Pennine hills. Even in the half-light of a winter dusk it was possible to make out the snow-blanketed

tops of the moors, and a perfect gradient of mushroom greys, framed by dry-stone walls, whitened by the prevailing westerly

distances to the point that they didn’t matter, obsessed over up with a laptop and a change of clothes simply to get the miles

in. And I have stared at my running shoes sitting on the rack –

knowing how much better I would feel for just getting outside

– but have somehow failed to make that first hardest step of lacing them up and opening the front door.

It has taken me a long time to work out what drives me to

storm and somehow even blacker than the creeping night on

run, beyond the sheer love of its simple purity and the sense

casting my eyes down I realised it was probably for the best.

pondering and analysing, but in the last few years, I have

the leewards side. I had most of the carriage to myself, and A stream of peaty water trickled from my running shoes, mud

clung to my running tights, the left leg of which was steaming as I rested it against the train’s heater.

I’d run further than I normally would in a day. Not ultra-

distances, but I felt like I’d been on a true journey through

lands just out of touching distance if I were entirely under my own steam. I had reawoken a sense of adventure, and spent a

whole day traversing snow-covered ground, without seeing a single other soul. Not bad for a Tuesday in early December.

I set the alarm on my phone as I nestled my head into my

down jacket and against the window. I closed my eyes as the train rattled eastwards to home.

Before I go on, this is not a story about epic miles or

incredible speed. In fact, this isn’t a story about running.

It is a manifesto for looking at the act of moving a little faster than walking pace in a different way; a mode of transport, a tool for travel, an opportunity for adventure rather than the

simple aerobic exercise that it is all too often stripped down to.

Running has been part of my life, well, for as long as walking.

In that time, my relationship with it has ebbed and flowed,

of flow that I get on the very best of running days. I’m still realised that what drives me in a much wider sense is purpose and adventure. Racing was a purpose; it was a reason to train on the days I didn’t feel like it, and ultimately there’s no such

thing as a bad run. Yet, I reached a point that racing no longer

really felt like an adventure. How could I replicate all the great

things about racing, but decouple it from the elements I didn’t enjoy, like competition, my own performance expectations and – most importantly – the limitations of following a set

route on a set day. It had already felt like a long winter, and I needed something to extract me from a funk. I needed a new purpose to run; a new adventure. I’m not even sure where I heard of the Stanza Stones, but one of my regular riding loops passes one of the six pieces of gritstone, each engraved with a poem dedicated to the elements. They are spread out across

a fifty mile stretch of the Pennine moors, from Marsden in the south to Ilkley in the north. My winter-softened legs and mind couldn’t face linking them together in a single day, but

maybe multiple days would be possible. In the end I settled on three runs, spread across three weeks, each using trains to transport me to start and finish points.

FACING PAGE: The Manchester skyline slowly receeds as we make our way east.

33

34

Which takes us back to where we began. A train from

Hebden Bridge back to my home in Bradford, a bookmark

in a longer story; one to be returned to. Seven days later,

I opened the book again, cracked the spine and retraced my

I had absorbed on windswept moors in a degree of comfort,

deliberately storing memories before they became too strung out to recall.

I started the Stanza run solo, but was joined by a pal,

public-transport journey to the Calder Valley. What was

Luke, on the second and third legs. For the most part, my

homeliness; a sense of familiarity within the wider landscapes

to not think, time to move at my own pace and no one else’s.

the end became the beginning. The route was one of exotic and place names. Everything from the colour of the rock to the shape of the hills felt so intimately known that they are part of me, despite never having trod sections of the route.

Then there were locations or trails that I had visited before

running has always been a solo endeavour; time to think, time

And while I will always treasure alone time in the hills and woods and even pounding the pavements of home, company brings another level to the experience.

A few weeks later, Luke and I joined another Tom in

and forgotten about, others that I had reached from another

Manchester city centre. Our starting point was the somewhat

the pub. What are you doing here?

why not? We had a question to answer. Which, now I think

direction, surprised as if I had bumped into an old friend in From Colne to Calder to Aire to Wharfe, I crossed moors

before returning to the folds of dales and valleys and the towns nestled within. And at the start and end of each day my

train journey was time for reflection, re-reading the poems

arbitrary, intentionally irreverent Vimto sculpture, because

about it, is probably the best reason possible to go for a run.

The poser this time was do you reckon we could trail run between Manchester and Sheffield in a couple of days?

FACING PAGE UPPER: The Mist Stone was tricky to find even on a clear day.

FACING PAGE CENTRE LEFT: Stoodley Pike marked the psychological end to Day 1 on the Stanza Stones trail. It was downhill all the way to Hebden Bridge from there.

FACING PAGE CENTRE RIGHT: We’re running up there? Kinder Scout was the highest point of the Manchester to Sheffield run and loomed large on the second half of day one.

FACING PAGE LOWER: A brief moment of sun catching the fields and drystone walls of Swillington, just above Hebden Bridge.

THIS PAGE: Luke and Tom each opt for their own routes across the uneven descent.

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The answer to these kinds of questions rarely matters.

Way up there near the start, I said this story was a

It’s the finding out that’s important. For what it’s worth

manifesto; a proclamation of a different way of seeing the run.

beauty too, from the canal towpath and council estates of

the pure nature of striding out has delivered me so much joy

the answer was yes this time. The route was an absolute Manchester to the Kinder plateau. Hospitality by our buddy Stef in Castleton. Then following him the next day up Win Hill and over to the wooded corridor of the Porter Valley transporting us almost all the way to Sheffield city centre.

My lasting memory of the run – beyond even the route

– is that of the conversations along the way. Shoulder-toshoulder, open-hearted, open-minded discussions. Time to

truly listen, and time to speak truly. Stories of life and death;

There have been times where the very essence of running;

I needed nothing else, but the greatest memories that I have taken away from running are not of the act itself. They are of the places I have visited: the glorious – no, perfect – one hundred metres of sinuous trail in my local woods; the Alpine

temperature inversion at dawn, with high peaks piercing the

cloud; and the glowing sign of a pub marking the end of a hard day out.

So I encourage you to, nay, plead that you… plan an

and much more important things like where we should enjoy

adventure. One with purpose. And go and enact it. Measure

(Double Decker, FYI).

promise you will be richer for it.

a pint at the end and the greatest chocolate bar of all time

that run in smiles, new views and conversations had; and I

THIS PAGE: All downhill from here.

FACING PAGE: The joy of this kind of run is the discovery of the “places in between”... little jewels of trails or views that you never expected to find.

36

Stories of life and death; and much more important things like where we should enjoy a pint at the end and the greatest chocolate bar of all time

37

THE BLUEPRINT INSPIRATION

MINDSET

How do you find your own adventure with purpose?

This ain’t a race (unless you want it to be). Walk when

mind helps. Simple questions sometimes lead to the

path and explore the woods. Clamber on rocks. Read

Well, there’s a few good starting points, but a curious

most interesting of answers ‘Where does that trail go?’ and ‘I wonder if I can run to there?’ have regularly ended up in some of my favourite (mis)adventures.

Inspiration for a run can come from limitless

sources, but an Ordnance Survey map is always a good start. Even staring at the map of my local area, I still spot short sections of footpath that I’ve yet to tread, or weird geological features, or unusual place names that are screaming out to be visited.

I’ve also drawn inspiration from books or television;

running to and through places steeped in history, following ancient paths. And on that note, there’s

no harm picking up guide books or following in the footsteps of others’ routes. Don’t forget you can split longer routes up, or join shorter ones together.

you want. Stop and take photos. Be curious. Leave the signs. Call into the pub part way along. Stop and say

hello to the people you meet. Immerse yourself in the sense of adventure.

TRANSPORT We all have a distance that we feel comfortable running in a day. Imagine that’s ten miles. you will probably

know almost every trail and road within the five mile radius of your house; an invisible boundary to be

touched before it’s time to make your way home. But, if you only had to run in one direction, then that boundary line doubles. Never underestimate the power of running

somewhere to change the mindset of a run. A loop, well,

you just end up where you started. A destination? That’s different somehow.

Pick a train station or a bus stop ten miles away and

instant adventure awaits; new trails and paths through

distant, but familiar lands. Then, of course, there’s no reason to limit your travel to one end of the run.

Instantly the world opens up even further.

THIS PAGE: In 1974 large sections of the Mam Tor road collapsed during a massive landslide. After a series of unsuccessful repairs in the following years, eventually the road was abandoned in 1979. Now, the broken road makes for an unusual ascent and descent on foot or bike of one of the most iconic peaks in the region.

FACING PAGE LEFT: Starting the recovery early.

FACING PAGE RIGHT: Running vest style packs are perfect for carrying extra layers, food and drink.

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PLANNING

KIT

I’m an old fashioned guy and struggle to plan a run

The great thing about running is the lack of kit that’s

other tools out there. Planning apps like komoot or

adventurous than your day-to-day scampers though, it’s

on anything other than maps, but there are plenty of

MapMyRun can be amazing tools for example. And a GPS line on a watch or your phone can be easier to follow than a map when you are on the move.

MULTI-DAY There’s something really special about a multi-day trip.

Even a single night away completely changes the dynamic of the run. B&B’s, hostels, bunkhouses and hotels make

for great lightweight options – bring some lightweight spare clothes and you needn’t bring anything more than

needed. For your first time doing something more worth spending a little time pondering gear. What you

need will obviously depend on the time of year and the exact nature of your run, but here’s a starter:

R unning shoes that are suitable for the conditions and you are used to

A waterproof jacket A n extra warm layer for emergencies (and to wear after if you need to travel home. I’ll sometimes

also bring a spare base layer to change into as well)

you would on a day run. A small tent or a bivvy bag allows

H at and gloves

the amount of kit you need.

distance. My go-tos are Haribo, Outdoor

for even more adventurous running, but adds weight and Remember that unless you are used to back-to-back

running your legs will probably feel a little fried at the start of your second day. A blister plaster or two might be a good call. And then ignore how stiff you feel for the

first mile or two. There will come a point where your

body resigns itself to the fact that it’s got to do this all over again and will start to cooperate.

S cran and sup: sufficient food/water for the Provisions bars and nut butters and for much

longer distances, a bit of real food in the form of a butty or a pie

A pack that is big enough to carry all of the above Y our preferred form of navigation tool C ash/method of paying for travel/extra food etc

39

SAFET Y

LEAVE A POSITIVE TRACE

Right… the sensible bit. First of all, it’s highly unlikely

We all know, and all subscribe to leaving no trace…

you won’t be able to get yourself out of whatever pickle

intentionally dropped litter. But when there are

that anything will go wrong. It’s even less likely that you find yourself in. But, it’s worth giving yourself a fighting chance. On the first day of the Stanza run, I had to rely on a compass bearing for around 30

minutes, despite following a very broad track on the Pennine Way. It was full white-out conditions and I was

wearing every scrap of clothing I had brought with me.

It was joyfully wild, but it obviously had the potential to

be dangerous had I got lost or decided to leave my “ just in case” layer at home.

It’s a lesson worth remembering any time of year;

I’ve had plenty of summer mountain runs in the UK where I’ve started and finished in shorts and a vest, but

been chilled to my core in multiple layers across the tops.

Make sure you know how to use whatever you use

to navigate… and think about a backup. What happens if you drop your phone/your map blows away? In short, push yourself but always have an insurance policy.

COMPANY Despite it being the exception rather than the rule for me, I love running with mates. It does change the dynamic of the day though. Ideally your running partners should

be of a similar level of fitness to you. If there is a big disparity, the fitter person should be prepared to walk

more often and move more slowly than they are used to.

It’s their role to change their pace, not the responsibility of the slower runner to try and keep up.

Having said that, there will be times where you

naturally drift into your own paces. Embrace that, but

regroup regularly and make sure all parties are ready

to move on, not just the fastest (who has also had the longest rest).

Talk; enjoy the time out together. Share the

experience… and race the last 100 metres to the pub.

Last one there buys the first round.

40

I highly doubt that anyone reading this far has ever

thousands of careless acts committed daily, maybe we should think about how we can give back a little to the wild places and green spaces that we enjoy so much.

The positive act of picking up a rogue sweet wrapper or drinks bottle takes close to zero effort and leaves the

hillside in a better state than when you visited. Think about visiting trashfreetrails.org to find out more.

FACING PAGE UPPER: Heading for Stanage Edge in the Peak District, which forms the border between the High Peak of Derbyshire and Sheffield in South Yorkshire.

FACING PAGE LOWER: Stiff legs did not appreciate the impossibly steep tarmac of Bamford Clough.

THIS PAGE UPPER: That’s one way to keep your feet dry I guess. Tom R gets the luxury treatment from Luke at Kinder Downfall.

THIS PAGE LOWER: Reyhdration is vital after a long day running in the hills.

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T H E BA S E I N T ERV I EW Ha nna h B ai ley t a l k s t o Ays h a S h a ri f Photography | Adam Raja and Amira Patel

Aysha Sharif is one of the inspiring individuals that make up The Wanderlust Women, a grassroots organisation and movement working to create a safe space for Muslim women to access the outdoors and adventure. The group, founded by Amira Patel, is on a mission to normalise

Muslim women’s presence in this space, empowering thousands of women to throw on hiking boots, stomp the soil, and access the magic of

the outdoors. For over 10 years Hannah Bailey has worked tirelessly to authentically represent and shine a spotlight on women in outdoors

and action sports. Her mission as a photographer and journalist has been to challenge the media and industry to support inspiring stories,

events and women on the scene, to encourage more participation and representation. Her latest project, Wandering Workshops, is a grassroots community organisation that aims to make splitboarding accessible to more people, welcoming new perspectives into the snow

space. For the issue 07 interview, Hannah catches up with Aysha, to understand the cultural and societal barriers her community faces, and to better understand her perspective on their path so far.

It is really exciting to have this chat with you Aysha,

He turned around to me and he asked ‘do you think you

to learn about your story and that of the Wanderlust

can make it?’ Was he asking because I’m a woman, because

it came to be part of your life?

you think that I’m not going to make it, but everyone else is?

Women. Can you tell me your outdoor story and how I’ve always loved the outdoors since I was little as my dad was outdoorsy. So we grew up with all these stories

I’m brown, because I’m covered? Which part of me makes It became a competition and I beat him to the top.

Then a woman, with her older children on a family day

of him out in the mountains, trekking and solo camping.

out, asked if I was there by myself. For me it wasn’t anything

weren’t accessible to us at that time. It wasn’t a landscape

people up hills in the images used in media or marketing.

As a South Asian woman these activities and the outdoors that we were able to access because our mums weren’t doing

it. It’s not that they didn’t want to, but they had come from a different country, they didn’t speak the language, and

they were raising young families so they never had the opportunity to do anything else.

I remember when we were little my dad would take us up

Pendle Hill in Lancashire. For me, I felt like I belonged there.

As I grew up and went to university, it just wasn’t the culture

amongst my friends. Then I had a difficult marriage and now

I have a difficult divorce. I started pushing myself a few years ago, because I just needed to get out. But there was no one in

my circle who could help me access the outdoors. I know it sounds like a silly thing to say, ‘to access the outdoors’, when

it’s just there, but it’s not that easy. You have to drive there, hike this new area, in which you don’t know who you will

meet, and what sort of reception you will get. At the beginning I was apprehensive. I used to solo hike, and I remember I met

out of the ordinary, but obviously you didn’t see many brown

There was hardly any representation even just 18 months ago.

But we were there before!

So after solo hiking, how was it you came across Amira and the Wanderlust Women?

Well, I moved up to the Lake District about 18 months ago and met Amira on her first retreat in June last year.

We clicked, it was love at first sight and she lived with me for

a while. When I moved here as a single mum with my three girls, my family kept asking when I was coming home. But

here is where I feel I belong, where I feel safe, it’s the first place I’ve ever felt home. I think it’s the same with Amira.

She went to the hills to seek solace, and grieve through her

personal problems and she found peace there. The type of characters we are, myself, Amira and The Wanderlust Women, we want to share that with everybody.

this guy on Snowdon who was with his family, and I stopped where everyone else had to take a breath.

FACING PAGE: Time to think and time to breathe. ‘Whatever problem you’re taking up, you’re coming down with a solution. AMIRA PATEL

43

I understand what you mean about finding peace in the

I’m fascinated by what you’re saying about the spiritual

open that out to more women to gain the benefits of the

activities do go one step further than everyday activities,

hills, and wanting to share that. What’s it been like to outdoors and understanding of its magic powers?

Last year when I was on her retreat, there were so many divorcees and single mums on it. As a woman from South Asian culture,

it’s hard to go through that, you can feel really isolated as a divorcee as there is just not that support network. As we were

all going through these things, we found an anchor in faith and

part of our spirituality is the connection to nature and God. So when you’re out there, on the mountain and you see everything

that is created, without your help, and realise that life has been sustained, how can you not be empowered to sustain your life?

I remember this one young woman on the retreat that first

year who was a single mum with two small daughters. She started hiking but was finding it difficult to get childcare.

People around her couldn’t understand why she needed to

go hiking, they would say why not just go to the cinema or

go shopping. But those activities don’t fill your heart with

and religious side of connection to nature. These outdoor to connect us to nature. It connects and grounds us all.

The stereotypical outdoorsman or alpinist has been

represented for so long in this space, but this can often lead to it being stale – the same photos, from the same angle, of the same people. It made me think how it’s

such a special time for your community as you’re the

drivers of it. It’s a really exciting time. Is there a feeling of excitement of being in this space and driving it, and what it stands for?

Definitely. When Amira stayed with me here in the Lake

District, I would put my girls to bed and nod off, then come downstairs at 1 in the morning and she would still be scribbling away. We would go through ideas for hours and

hours, because for us it was a new world, because we weren’t able to be a part of it before.

Elements like wearing your clothes and praying, they

peace! She persevered and now she’s doing solo hikes all over

were all barriers. The media is such a powerful tool that when

weekend, and in the future her daughters will be empowered.

anyone bowing down and praying on a mountain somewhere,

the place. That one woman was empowered after that one

I think for me and Amira it is that ripple effect. It’s

not just about taking women on hikes – it’s about sharing it

and making it as easy for people as possible to join us in the outdoors. We’ve all been through dark times and we knew

how bad they were. So if we can help one or two get out of that, it’s all worth it.

44

you see an image, it becomes a norm, but if you haven’t seen it’s going to look like the oddest thing you’ve ever seen. We’re so excited to be doing what we’re doing. But we are so limited

with time. I’m a single parent. I have to balance things. I want

to do Wanderlust Women, to look after my kids and I have

to work. If it was up to us, we’d be doing it every day – we are so time blind!

Was he asking because I’m a woman, because I’m brown, because I’m covered? Which part of me makes you think that I’m not going to make it?

As early people in this space, you are part of defining

I totally agree. The benefits you get from the outdoors

with responsibility. What fuels you, Amira and

magical for me personally, to face challenges in life.

what it looks like for others to join it, which comes The Wanderlust Women in this space?

Life and pain teaches you so much. When you come through a series of dark tunnels, and reach the other side, you want

to take everyone through it. Everyone who looks, thinks,

and speaks like you, because you have known challenges and faced the barriers. We’ve been on the outside of this scene,

and couldn’t join because we couldn’t wear the clothes, or we didn’t have people to help guide us in.

I remember at the beginning, when I wanted to start

hiking, just getting the boots was difficult. I didn’t know

about sizing, or what type of socks to get, or gaiters or waterproofs. If you don’t have that guidance from someone who is not going to ridicule you, you might never get started.

Three weeks ago we were in Scotland doing our winter

skills, and we met a girl. She was full of anguish and pain,

but she was pushing herself through it. It was like therapy.

The mountains, this environment and these activities can fuel

you to push a way through things. For us it is therapy, but also

and from being in these environments have been really And I feel I want to encourage other people and give

them the chance to feel this magic too, to be provided with the therapeutic benefits. It seems like one of the

Wanderlust missions is to provide that opportunity for

your community to feel the benefit of the outdoors from the therapeutic and sisterhood point of view.

Like you said, it is magical. You have to experience it. I always say, when you go up a mountain, you go up one version of

yourself, and you come down a completely different one.

Whatever problem you’re taking up, you’re coming down with a solution. How beautiful is that?! You don’t turn to drugs, you don’t turn to drink, or useless entertainment. You don’t

drown in your current problem. I don’t think there is anyone

who isn’t going through something. But the beauty of it is that it’s so simple. Just go out, and whatever answer you need, you’re going to find it within yourself. If we can guide people to that empowerment, society would be a better place.

sisterhood. It doesn’t matter who you are, or where you’re from,

you see everyone blossoming on the hills together. It’s not just hiking, it’s not just swimming, it’s about changing lives!

FACING PAGE: Aysha stands with one of her fellow Wanderlust Women, founder Amira Patel. ADAM RAJA THIS PAGE: People say it’s just hiking, but it’s not. It is so much deeper. It goes down into your soul. AMIRA PATEL

45

It’s not just hiking, it’s not just swimming, it’s about changing lives!

The barriers your community faces, can you talk a little

society doesn’t allow them to fathom this. It is important to

The Wanderlust Women? I think it’s important for people

are battling people who look like us.

bit about what they are and what you’ve learned through to understand them, so we can all be part of helping to

note, we’re not only battling people who don’t look like us, we

challenge or diminish them.

That may be a revelation to the community, to realise

we can do anything we want to do – work hard, and you can

Amira does interviews and documentaries, and she’s had a

We have three identities. We are British, whereby we know achieve it. We are South Asian, where it doesn’t matter how

hard you work, there are certain things you’re just not going to do as a woman. Then Islamically, there are certain restrictions in terms of your dress, and the fact you have to offer your

prayers, and retain that modesty. Modesty isn’t restriction, it is the protection of the self.

All those factors combine to create barriers and the

biggest one, in my opinion, is our South Asian culture. It is

not the Islamic identity that halts or subdues us. Some of the greatest people and the founders of the religion were women

that you are challenged by those in your own.

lot of backlash, mostly from men. They often say she should be at home, doing the cooking and cleaning. Also, we have done some live events where people have asked us why we’re

not married. But nothing in our religion says what we’re

doing is wrong. The original muslim women used to climb

mountains, even if it wasn’t discussed. For us, it is balancing the three elements of our identity. Sometimes you get it

right, sometimes you get it wrong. But we are open about our struggles because we are not the only ones struggling.

– there’s a lot of power and strength in them. In South Asian

It is so interesting. The impact of what you’re doing is not

family and community, who on the mountain think what

you are doing. It’s also to normalise it within your own

culture, you’ll get men who look like you, from the same

we’re doing is great, but when they are at home they won’t

offer the same facility to their mothers, sisters or daughters.

There is no plausible reason we can’t do what they are doing, it’s just the culture.

I did a swimsuit shoot the other day, and I told my mum,

and she got really upset about it. Swimming is something I’ve only taken up recently after years of wanting to do it and not

being able. So if it helps other people to get the chance to do

it, then why not? I was covered head-to-toe, so Islamically I was fulfilling my obligations. I think it was just a culture shock for her. It was the norm for women to not be seen and

not be heard, and all of a sudden we’re on mountains wearing boots and stomping in the rain. For some people patriarchal 46

just for the mainstream, the white community, to see what community and invite more people in. It is as valuable to change the perspective and understanding of the older generation and men.

We regularly sit down to renew our intentions and our values

around why we are doing all this. Our faith is very important

to us, and we don’t want to do anything that will go against

it. But if you don’t speak up, things don’t change. You can subdue oppression, you can subdue abuse, but eventually

they’ll all surface. I always think I have to speak up, for whatever issue is at the forefront of our minds now, because

tomorrow my daughters will find it slightly easier to deal

with. I sit down with them and say you can do anything you want with life, nothing will stop you. My oldest daughter

wants to be a farmer, so I asked her if I should get us a farm,

are so powerful, and it’s why I’m so in love with the outdoors

in our family!’ They’re all determined to make it up Everest,

in our industry – well actually the world – to open the door to

to which she replied, ‘no, I want to be the first female farmer that’s our common goal. We need to start training…

I know what we’re doing is just a small drop in the wider

community, but imagine if all girls were empowered and believed they could really do something, and within that

you teach them good values. How is it that those girls will

and the community. But I think we have a long way still to go allow more people to belong. To not feel afraid to let people

be part of it, and bring about change. I know things have

progressed in the past year, I can see it thanks to organisations and people like you.

not contribute good to society? Once you have expanded

But do you see a change in the industry’s representation

they look to do good. For us, that is what it’s all about.

to support it further at this point?

someone’s mind and opened the world to them, then surely

of minority communities, and what could the industry do With the work that Amira and The Wanderlust

Empower a community, and give them access, and they’ll

Women are doing, you can see the media are picking it

environmentally and socially. It might only be a drop in

discussion and dialogue. Part of our understanding is that

be more likely to protect the land, both doing good

the ocean, but that little drop makes a ripple, and has its

impact. I believe grassroots organisations are making the most impact in our industry, to create change, and invite

more people in. I wondered where you thought the impact was being made or led by?

We have had a lot of women and individual supporters covering all the elements we do. There is Harriet, who helps run our navigation courses, or Esther who does the rock climbing. They have been running courses from the early

retreats, and you can already see the impact it is having on

their lives, our lives and the lives of participants. They are really behind the movement!

Esther will get a 60-year-old Asian woman rock climbing,

when just a few years ago she would have just had to sit at home.

up, there is representation. And more importantly, there’s

you can approach Asian men, but they have already been exposed to it, it is open access to them. The real struggle is with the Asian Muslim females because they are not only

pushing against their own barriers, but cultural barriers, societal barriers and then facing the world out there, where they look different. They’re covered and that brings with it so many associated connotations. Bridging of cultures is where the dialogue starts. It opens us up to ask what are

our similarities, because we know our differences. How do we build on them, and create these cohesive environments

where people learn and become better versions of themselves.

We can only do that through dialogue and getting to know each other.

Now she is on the rocks in the Lakes. It’s all these individual

So, is that what the industry can do behind the scenes,

are all pushing for the same thing. Ultimately, I believe in the

To open up dialogue, speak to the individuals and listen?

women, and smaller groups that push us all forward, as we

sisterhood. The most fundamental part of our religion is that we believe when God created Adam the first human, he created

him from soils of different areas and all different colours.

We are all one, all created from the same soil and earth.

Wow, I love that notion, that different soil made up the

first human. It makes me think about how when we walk a hill we are walking the same mountain, the same soil.

I think about that here in the Cairngorms when I’m

hiking, I am walking the same path or patch of soil that

Nan Shepherd or Queen Victoria have. Two, well three, ladies from very different backgrounds. As humans we

whether that’s brands, media or the community itself?

Absolutely! If the objective is more people doing these

activities, there are still barriers to entry. For example, brands

are making products that are not suitable for everyone. It’s not only Muslim women who are asking for long-sleeved tops, it was the same thing with the burkini and Nigella Lawson.

She’s not Muslim, but she wanted full coverage. There is demand there, it’s just a question of how much the industry

wants to tap into it. Amira is helping design the windproof and waterproof hijab, and that’s massive. The fact that a brand is taking on board that there is a community that has a different need and they’re trying to answer it.

would never have mixed, but we are sharing the same soil

Aysha, this has been so enlightening and inspiring.

It’s so beautiful. It’s about belonging and strength. People

We’re still just learning ourselves. Every day and every

and path. I’m fascinated by that.

say it’s just hiking, but it’s not. It is so much deeper. It goes

down into your soul. How could you not pass that feeling on?! Especially in today’s world where there is connection

and there is disconnection, there is feeling but there is no feeling. But when you see a group of women, sitting together,

meditating, absorbing nature out in the hills, that experience will have rippled deep inside them. Belonging and connection

Do you have any final thoughts for us to take away?

opportunity is a new one. Right now we are working on our mountaineering courses to make ourselves more confident, and qualified to be the leaders in our community, and

so people can come to us. Amira and I are confident and independent women, but not all are like that, I think for us

that is important to note. We want to create a safe space for those women, to empower them to find their voice.

FACING PAGE: Aysha and Amira bagging their first winter Munro in 2021. ADAM RAJA

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A DEEPER UNDERSTANDING Le sso ns in facing the unknow n i n M exi c o’s u nd er wa t er cave syst ems Story and Photography | Ben Horton

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Floating, suspended in total darkness, it’s almost impossible to reorientate yourself. Up and down become ambiguous, and without any training in how to handle the situation, your chances of self-rescue are slim 50

Adventure is full of risk. It’s part of the allure. From the outside, those risks can look even greater, in some instances unacceptably high.

The reality though is that anyone operating at the top of their game, whatever their chosen discipline, is equipped with the skillset and

the knowledge base to effectively operate in those environments – and more importantly able to calculate the unknowns accordingly.

But it doesn’t come easy. Top adventurers are often some of the most well-qualified individuals on the planet. Their unfaltering dedication

to meticulously updating their knowledge banks and skillsets to be the best they can be is what ultimately ensures the safety of themselves and those around them. Explorer and adventure photographer Ben Horton, knows this as well as anyone. Having spent years refining his craft, he explores the strength in learning.

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ear comes from not understanding. It’s a phrase that I

Over the following month, Kim dismantled my concept of

repeat to myself when I am presented with something

my own capabilities as a diver, refining my skills and systems

probably because you don’t understand them. If you’re afraid

to be an astronaut. Kim taught me to navigate blindfolded, to

that scares me. If you’re afraid of swimming with sharks, it’s

of hiking alone through the wilderness, it’s probably because

you don’t understand that environment. In adventure sports, it often means you simply haven’t developed the skills and

awareness necessary to visualise the path to a positive outcome.

Most people’s perception of cave diving would put it at

the very top of the list of dangerous sports. I was first asked

with an attention to detail that made me feel like I was ready break down and reassemble my equipment underwater and to

constantly recalculate my gas supply whilst moving through complex environments. I can now swim backwards using just my toes, so I can back out of tight spaces without disturbing silt on the cave floor.

For me, the most exciting part of the training was what

to learn to cave dive for an upcoming film project and I shut

Kim called the stress test. Pretty much every training dive

Generally, I gravitate towards experiences that seem

turn off his lights and hover in the shadows, out of view.

the idea down outright.

‘off limits’ to most – experiences that require unique skills, fear management and time dedicated to understanding your

environment – cave diving felt like rolling the dice. I’ve spent

most of my life open water diving in the ocean and freediving.

I consider myself something of an expert on being underwater,

but I trust statistics. And the statistics around cave diving didn’t look good.

My preconception was very much based on fear, and

I knew it. So eventually I agreed to, at the very least, go

ended with a test of this sort. Deep in a cave, Kim would

On this occasion, my partner and I, navigating through a new section of cave towards our exit point, don’t feel Kim at all.

Suddenly, my regulator starts to free-flow, causing a sudden

loss of precious air from my tank, my buoyancy compensator overinflates and pins me to the roof of the cave and my mask is knocked off my face. It’s a simulation, but a panicked diver grabbing at my equipment or a collision with the cave wall could ultimately turn this scenario into reality.

Whilst switching tanks, stopping the first from free-

through the training. If I didn’t like it, I’d pull the plug.

flowing and attempting to get my buoyancy back under

ProTec diving centre in Tulum, Mexico. Opposite me, a tall,

I somehow lose a fin, and I see that my partner has also had

A few months later, I found myself sitting in the back room of

muscular, tattooed man with a clean-shaven scalp. On first appearances, Kim Davidson struck me more as a bouncer than a diver, at least until his sense of humour broke loose. As Kim

gave me a breakdown of his experience as a cave diver, explorer

and instructor, it quickly became apparent that I’d stumbled into the classroom of one of the most accomplished and capable instructors in the world.

Day one, a lesson in statistics: The majority of cave diving

accidents don’t happen to cave divers. Open water divers like me, curious about what’s just inside the cave entrance, can’t resist. They kick up silt, lose their sense of direction

control, I feel around for my line – the path to safety.

his own brush with the arbiter of chaos. Once we have things

under control and Kim can see that we’ve safely organised

ourselves, he blindfolds us. We’re now tasked with swimming for 30 minutes through the maze-like system of subterranean

passageways in a quest for open air. It sounds extreme, but I can honestly say that I no longer have that fear of cave diving.

In its place, I have a much greater respect for and

understanding of that particular environment. I know now

that I can handle a series of events, one that is statistically less likely to happen than a bear attack in Los Angeles.

The cave systems in Tulum are the largest in the world, with

and panic. Floating, suspended in total darkness, it’s almost

passages connecting the cenotes like the roots of a vast forest.

ambiguous, and without any training in how to handle the

murky you can’t see your own hand pressed against your mask,

impossible to reorientate yourself. Up and down become situation, your chances of self-rescue are slim.

When a trained cave diver has an accident it’s usually the

result of a navigational error, a wrong turn, swimming deeper

into the cave beyond the limits of your air supply. In a cave,

of course, you can’t just swim to the surface.

The cenote called Jailhouse requires diving through water so and following the line through a narrow crack. It feels like it

takes forever, but as you descend into the darkness, suddenly everything opens up and you arrive in perfectly clear water.

PREVIOUS PAGES: Kim Davidson swimming through an ornately decorated cave in Tulum.

The speleotherms (stalagtites and stalagmites) were formed when the cave was dry during the last ice age.

FACING PAGE: Following a set line through a tight passage like this is the safest way to navigate complicated underwater cave systems like this one near Tulum.

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As a conservationist, understanding the connectivity

from long-extinct species. It’s hard to learn much about

the impact of things like groundwater pollution on these

it, to care, and to become an advocate for its preservation.

of these subterranean waterways has opened my eyes to

environments. It’s no longer possible to dive the caves under the city of Tulum, they’ve been filled with sewage

and runoff from the streets which eventually makes its way into the ocean where tourists swim on what look like

something so precious without feeling directly connected to

These caves are a time capsule of earthly formations dating

back thousands of years, and all of it could be lost to condos and timeshares.

If you are considering learning to cave dive, or skilling up

pristine beaches.

in any adventure discipline, do it. Cave diving taught me to

project is underway next to the Sian Ka’an Biosphere Reserve,

personal ability and my psychology. Diving in cave systems is

Just 45 minutes away from Tulum, a massive development

a UNESCO World Heritage Site and one of the most

protected places in Mexico. Even as a National Geographic

photographer, it’s difficult to get permits to enter the area, yet the preserve is directly downstream of the development.

With proper training completed, I am privy to experiences

rely on myself completely, and to be intimately aware of my the closest I’ll ever get to exploring a distant planet. With the

proper training, I learned to manage the danger and so gained easy access to true exploration, the ability to see places that have never been seen by human eyes.

In a world where exploration and adventure are becoming

that very few people are. Swimming through vast, Ice Age

an a-la-carte service, where you can pay someone to drag you

with intricate speleothems (geological formations by mineral

allows us to really experience adventure and in some cases

caves, suspended in total tranquillity in chambers decorated deposits which accumulate over time), discovering skeletons

52

to the North Pole or the top of Everest, the mastery of craft genuine exploration on our own terms.

Suddenly my regulator starts to free-flow, my BC over-inflates and pins me to the roof of the cave and my mask is knocked off my face

FACING PAGE UPPER: Kim Davidson moves through another beautiful tight passage near Tulum, careful not to disturb too much silt from the cave floor.

FACING PAGE LOWER: Deep in the jungle outside of Tulum, a porter looks into a cavern where we aim to explore a new passage.

THIS PAGE UPPER: Kim Davidson descends into the perfectly clear waters of another of Mexico’s cenotes.

THIS PAGE LOWER: A diver makes their way through obstacles in a narrow corridor. It’s easy to understand the dangers of disturbing the cave floor in such tight quarters as this.

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54

FI NDI NG CALM Zen and t he a r t of b el ayi ng Story | Hazel Findlay

Photography | David Pickford

To say there’s a correlation between positive mental health and time spent outdoors is hardly ground-breaking. But the more we develop and obsess over our abilities in those environments – berating yourself for missing the same hold three times in a row, fixating over beating

your best time or simply becoming jaded by the same landscapes that once filled you with awe – the easier it becomes to offset those positive aspects. So how do we make sure we optimise the effects of the time we spend outside? Hazel Findlay is a mental training coach and one of

the world’s most accomplished climbers – which means she’s almost certainly spent more time belaying her climbing partners than anyone you know. Recently, she’s realised that might not be such a bad thing.

B

elaying has a PR problem. Most climbers I know see it as a chore, particularly those who climb trad. It’s a long

and tedious process, obligation anchoring you to the stance, the source of many a neck issue.

The action itself does require attention; we need to pay

out slack when our partner clips, provide vital, vigorous encouragement by cheering them on when they most need it

and it goes without saying, you must never, ever let go of the ropes! At first, that’s engaging enough. But even if someone

is climbing something really exciting, right at their limit, they still might spend ten minutes at a rest doing nothing. Or twenty at the top of a route finding enough protection to make a secure

belay with which to bring you up. Tedium, rather like cold hands or a stiff neck, begins to encroach on the experience.

In the modern world we’re rarely left alone without some

As outdoor enthusiasts, we understand the relationship

between access to natural spaces and mental health. During

COVID-19 lockdowns many people were separated from

the great outdoors. For those confined to cities, the best they might have hoped for was a walk along the pavement.

We’re only now beginning to understand the cost of those

restrictions on our mental health and recent studies have found a strong correlation between reduced mental health

and those restrictions. Studies have also found that contact with nature provided a buffer against the negative effects of

lockdown on our mental health. These conclusions might

seem obvious to outdoor-types, but what is it about time spent

outdoors that’s so good for our mental health and what can we do to make our time outdoors even better?

Of course, exercise itself is important. More than just

form of entertaining distraction, and the mental requirements

burning calories, there is a mental respite to be found in

else we’ll do on any given day. Human attention is a scarce

in the complex movements of climbing. But we can find those

of belaying are infinitely less engaging than almost anything commodity, and unlike other boring things in life or at work,

you can’t excuse yourself for a timely toilet break or quick cup

of coffee. Tethered to a rock for an hour, obediently clutching the ropes, you can begin to feel like a dog tied to a lamppost,

with nothing to do and nowhere to go, patiently waiting for your owner to return from the shop.

Not so long ago, I was on a cliff top chatting with a

few others when a young, blonde climber offered his friend

physical exertion and a deep level of engagement particularly benefits in indoor sports too. Why is it then that we prefer to

be outside? Perhaps it’s the sense of awe and wonder that we

find in nature, or the feeling of calm in leaving the hustle and bustle of the city behind. It’s likely a healthy mix of all these things and more. I’m not sure we or science can fully explain

it. I have a suspicion however, that it’s also something to do with presence.

Outdoor people – we’re doers. We are the people who’d

a ‘catch’ on a route that he’d been practising. The route in

rather spend hours digging a pointless hole on the beach than

last over an hour. The friend was concerned it would be an

capitals of the UK. I’m surrounded by people who already

question was particularly long and slow, the belay likely to

inconvenience. With a slightly twitchy look about him, the blonde climber said it would be ‘good for him’, that belaying was the only time that he could really be ‘still’. A conversation

ensued about how the monotony of belaying might actually be its most important quality.

sunbathing. I live near Llanberis in Wales, one of the outdoor do four sports and are in the process of learning two more.

The sort of people that get up at 5am to go for a run in the

hills before work, which is most likely an outdoor-related

job like guiding, then spend the majority of their earnings on kit.

FACING PAGE: Hazel Findlay taking a moment to admire her environment and practice the art of ‘being’ at Pavey Ark, one of the great trad crags of Langdale, Cumbria.

55

We have the ‘doing’ part covered, but what about the

peaceful moment strapped to a sea-cliff waiting for my partner

on that 5am run? Or are we too busy trying to beat our mate’s

ocean. Honestly, some particularly slow belays do start with a

‘being’ part? Can we stop and enjoy a murmuration of starlings Strava time? Can we be satisfied with a slower pace? A walk

in the woods instead of a downhill mountain bike ride?

Do we take the time to simply be in these beautiful places

to pull up the ropes, simply admiring the enormity of the little, simmering frustration, but with the right mindset I can give in to the experience of just being without doing.

As I get older and I delve deeper into my own mental

we end up in or are we just too busy doing? If we end up

wellbeing, I notice that my capacity to be OK in this moment

appears in our hands to take a picture, message a friend or

To practise meditation is to train this skill and presentness,

somewhere nice with nothing to do, how long until a phone

scroll through Instagram, comparing where we are to the photos we see on the screen?

You wouldn’t be wrong in saying that belaying is a thing

that we do but in reality, very little of our precious attention is

needed for large portions of belay stints. Surely then, during

those periods when your climber is resting on the route or fumbling for protection to construct a safe anchor, that time then becomes a unique opportunity to admire the place we

are in, to be, without doing (much), if just for a moment.

In between keeping a dutiful eye on your climbing partner,

perhaps we could admire our surroundings mindfully, just as they are, not wishing them to be different. I’ve spent many a

without distraction is inextricably linked to that wellbeing. but your practice doesn’t have to be sitting on a cushion in the lotus position, it could be waiting for your partner to untie

a stuck clove hitch at the top of the crag. In reality, we can

meditate anywhere, like standing in the checkout queue at the supermarket. Sure, it’s a lot easier when we are surrounded by the awe-inspiring, calming beauty of nature. For that reason, a prolonged belay stint could be the most important, enriching thing you do all day, not only for your climbing partner but for your own mental wellbeing too.

From this point onwards, I intend to fully appreciate

the presentness, peace and ‘being’ of belay-time – will you join me?

THIS PAGE: Hazel making a quick ascent of the hard Italian testpiece The Doors (E8 / 8a trad) at Cadarese in northern Italy in 2012. DAVID PICKFORD

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SAVAGE PARADISE Pa c kra f t explora t i o n o f t h e Ta t o nd uk Va lley - Yuko n Ter ri t o r y Story & Photography | David Weimer

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‘I

don’t even like to fly over that canyon,’ said Dan

we found did not disappoint. The geology in the valley was

flying me to the headwaters of the Tatonduk River – an

cliffs were several natural arches, slot canyons, caves, and

Reynolds, the bush pilot and hunting guide who was

obscure ribbon of whitewater I had obsessed over for the

better part of two years. The canyon in question was the crux along our paddling objective. It was the reason why people didn’t go there.

Dan owns a massive hunting concession which extends

from his cabin near Dawson City, Yukon Territory, all the

completely unusual to the subarctic. Hidden amongst the

even a miniature volcano which erupted in 2012. And to top it off – the Grand Canyon of the Tatonduk – which has

vertical walls rising hundreds of feet to either side. It seemed unbelievable, but the gorge narrowed into a slot so tight, game animals could leap across it in one jump.

The valley was a geologist’s dream and a paddler’s

way to the Alaska border – 6000-square miles of some of

nightmare. The area was so unique, I believed it could, and

the Tatonduk River, flows directly through it.

just like Yukon-Charley Rivers National Preserve across the

the most remote, pristine areas of North America. Our goal,

‘I take twelve hunters out a year,’ Dan said. ‘That’s

what the land can support.’ As we flew over the area in his Super Cub – a one passenger, supercharged monoplane, with

cartoonish oversized tundra tires – I realised that everything below us, the forests, rivers, mountains, all of it, stretching

into the horizon – is all Dan’s. And I was a little curious

should be incorporated into some kind of natural preserve border. If it were, the two areas would be interconnected, protecting a huge swath of wilderness. So I brought my

friends, my cameras, and my naivety, and set out to document one of the most unusual and spectacular valleys in all of Yukon Territory.

The sun was beating down at 11pm. T-shirt weather in

why he had limited his clients to so few. Wealthy, big-game

the land of the midnight sun. Dan had offered the use of his

Dall sheep, wolves, and even grizzly bear on his concession.

exactly mosquito proof. We considered erecting our tents

hunters from all over the world want to hunt moose, caribou,

A guided moose hunt, for instance, averages $23,000 US

dollars per client. With prices like these, Dan’s backyard is

a veritable goldmine. However, he didn’t seem to care about

hunting cabin for the night. It was spacious, clean, but not until we spied a guest book. The last two entries were dated a year ago.

this. His interest lies in game management. ‘It was a hard

Sept. 15- While scouting the west-ridge for moose, we glass

as there were last summer.’

Tom S.

winter for the Dall sheep,’ he mused. ‘There are half as many Dan has a small cabin with a primitive airstrip on the

a huge, 10-foot grizzly on the tundra below.

bank of the Tatonduk. His father owned it before him, along

Sept. 18- Griz dead and in camp. Measures just 7-foot 6-inch.

was a child. As we neared, I saw a huge trail leading down

Greg M.

with the hunting concession, and he’s been coming since he

to a grassy meadow beside the river. It was a game trail, or perhaps a game highway, the Dall sheep had rutted-out over

Tom needs to see more bears.

We chose to sleep in the cabin. We weren’t ready

the centuries. This was where the ewes came to give birth.

to deal with the bears just yet. The comfy but primitive

animals. The river had recently flooded and taken out half

homesteaded on the lower section of the Tatonduk. His

Dan banked the plane hard to avoid the area and startle the the airstrip but Reynolds manoeuvres the Super Cub expertly

to land in an area small enough for a helicopter pilot to be

proud of. He dropped me off, then flew back to retrieve my two friends, Oliver Amann and Ueli Staub. The plane, as well as the airstrip, is only big enough to fly us in one at a time.

It was my third trip to Tatonduk. In 2015, while

floating the Yukon River, I stopped at the confluence to get

a glimpse of the surrounding area. In 2016, Mike Cragen

and I embarked on an off-trail, 150-mile loop on the edge of east-central Alaska that toured the most remarkable, yet least visited areas bordering Yukon-Charley Rivers National

abode reminded me of legendary trapper Dick Cook, who exploits were documented in John McPhee’s classic book,

Coming into the Country. Cook built his log-home by hand and lived there for nearly four decades. He had dealt with the threat of bears on a daily basis, it was all normal living for

him. In 2001, Cook, who was then 70-years old, accidently swamped his canoe and subsequently drowned in the frigid

waters. His body was found floating near the mouth of the river; proof that bad things can happen to even the most

skilled, seasoned outdoorsmen. If it ain’t the bears that get you, I reasoned, it’s the river.

The next morning we inflated our packrafts and began

Preserve. We named this ambitious circuit The Borderpatrol

the descent. The contour lines on our map pinched together,

across the Canadian border, down the Tatonduk River with

the meadow where the sheep were sleeping. Dan never hunts

and it centered on exploring the Tatonduk. The route went

packrafts (which, as far as I could tell, was the second descent

of the South Fork) and back across the U.S. border. What

revealing the canyons ahead. But first we had to cruise past this area and asks us not to disturb them. As quiet as we

were, they smelled us. Thirty white sheep stampede for the

PREVIOUS PAGES: Ueli running Mother Bear Canyon above the waterfall.

FACING PAGE: Oliver Armann and Ueli Staub take a moment to appreciate their surroundings and assess their next steps as they begin their portage through the Eye of the Needle Canyon.

60

river, splashing across in front of us, and quickly climbed the

wanted a shot at the South Fork too. This time he implored

ricocheted down the cliff, cannonballing into the river around

the adventure. Having flown over the South Fork and seen

striated canyon wall until they were high above. Large rocks us. Was this an accident or were the sheep purposely trying to kill us? I And when – I wondered – was the last time these sheep had seen people?

In June of 1980, Jerry S. Dixon was working as a Fire

Management Officer for the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) in Eagle, Alaska. He had been a smokejumper – a highly

trained wildland firefighter who uses parachutes to access remote and rugged areas. But then he had an accident. Jerry is among the few smokejumpers in history to have survived a

his paddling friend from Idaho, Ron Watters, to join him in the canyons for himself, Jerry knew there would be some monstrous portages to contend with. The pair decided to

use Spezi inflatable kayaks, which were heavy, but easier to

portage than the typical 13-foot fiberglass hardshells of the day. The Spezis, however, couldn’t quite fit in a backpack.

They also had a nasty reputation for wrapping around boulders, trapping their occupants. Packrafts would have been ideal, of course, but they had yet to be invented.

Jerry described the trip in his book Wild for Alaska. The

double parachute malfunction. Afterwards he had an epiphany.

duo named the many topographical features along the river

Jerry was the only BLM representative for an immense

Gehrig’s disease in 2010 and I was never able to speak with

He decided to stop jumping out of airplanes.

tract of public land around Eagle. The establishment of Yukon-Charley Rivers National Preserve had been proposed

which I have adopted for this article. Sadly, Jerry died of Lou him about the accomplishment.

It was our second day on the river and we were having a

but not yet implemented, and in Eagle, there was almost

blast. We felt like explorers discovering an untouched land for

government was now going to control the wilderness and

bars, no evidence of logging, no incessant whine of airplanes

unanimous opposition to the park. The idea that the demand permits for things like mining and hunting did not sit well with the residents. Store owners posted signs that read: PARK SERVICE NOT WELCOME HERE.

Although many of the townspeople thought of Jerry as

‘one of the bad guys’, he was outgoing, amicable, and he had something in common with most of the residents: he loved the Yukon wilderness.

Dixon was also a whitewater kayaker. During this time,

he had accomplished a daring, solo first-descent of the North Fork of the Tatonduk River, was mesmerised by the area, and

the first time. There was no trash, no footprints on the gravel flying overhead. The valley was ours and ours alone. This

awareness was especially poignant for Oliver and Ueli who live in Switzerland. ‘In our country, every tree is accounted for,’ said Oliver. ‘If you walk through a forest in the Alps,

there are no fallen trees lying on the forest floor, they are harvested long before they ever touch the ground.’

‘Camp-fires are illegal too,’ said Ueli. ‘You need a special

permit, only certain people can get them, and it’s only allowed once a year.’

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I gestured with my hand to imitate a boat plummeting over a lip to certain death

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I looked at the healthy stands of black and white spruce

destroyed by repeated glaciations. Just another example of how

and every tree here. Oliver continued, ‘You can’t do a trip like

the formations that had captured my imagination – it was the

and tried to imagine what it would be like to account for each

this in Europe, every river is dammed. You can paddle short sections, portaging the dams, but camping is forbidden.’

the Tatonduk Valley is a unique and special place. But it wasn’t gorge ahead.

The word Tat-on-duk comes from the Hän Athabaskan

We continued our paddle towards Mother Bear Canyon.

word which roughly translates to Broken Rock. That might be

25-foot waterfall somewhere along our path. Now, I like

Imagine a mountain that has split in half, the entire river

I knew from Dixon’s book there was a hidden, river-wide,

whitewater just as much as any river-runner who considers this type of hobby ‘ fun’. But I am also conservative. Admittedly,

some might say that I am annoyingly conservative. So yes,

the idea of running an unknown canyon containing a hidden

the best description of the gorge we were about to encounter.

forced through the crack. Ron Watters sent me this vivid description of the canyon as he remembered it.

‘The walls are smooth and vertical, sometimes overhanging.

waterfall somewhere along its length scares the hell out of

The water is slow at the beginning and it’s strangely inviting. You

Ueli one bit. They were both keen to hit some real whitewater.

paddle a short distance – just a short distance – to see what it’s like.

me. However, the waterfall didn’t seem to bother Oliver or It should be noted that my friends’ first language is Swiss

German. Their English is superb, however, some common phrases and idioms were simply lost in translation. So, I wasn’t

sure if either of them had completely understood me. ‘Guys!’

I said a little louder, ‘Do you know what I mean when I say waterfall? I don’t mean whitewater, I mean waterfall – the

whole river going over a cliff.’ I gestured with my hand to imitate a boat plummeting over a lip to certain death.

‘Yes, yes, we understand,’ they laughed. ‘We will scout

can almost hear the Sirens inviting you in. It might be tempting to

But if you did, it would be a black widow’s embrace. You would

be there for the duration – however short or long that might be.

Once in the gorge there would be no way to climb out from river level. And what might you encounter? Walls closing in. The river beginning to hurtle downward. Then the black widow herself: a mass of logs forming a narrow spiny plug extending 30 feet or more above the surface of the river.’

The ‘spiny plug’ Watters is referring to is every river-

from the river.’ They jumped into their packrafts and sealed

runners worst nightmare: a strainer of monolithic proportions.

followed. We paddled out of the swirling eddy and dropped

of purifying the river of any unfortunate soul brave enough, or

their sprayskirts. Not wanting to be left behind, I nervously into a canyon with smooth granite walls. It was tight and claustrophobic. I kept listening for the telltale roar of a

waterfall. Would I hear it? The powerful current pushed us

along through a series of wave-trains and splashy rapids,

Years of debris piled together to create a natural dam capable

dumb enough to get near it. I have paddled a fair share of rivers and have never seen a strainer able to form in a river with such

high volume. It was impressive and terrifying at the same time.

I had tried to circumvent this obstacle by portaging down

nothing difficult, but a flip could have proven serious.

the left side of the canyon with Mike Cragen in 2016. This

disappear over the horizon. I yelled, ‘There it is!’ We paddled

scary precipitous ledges, we were cliffed-out and forced to

Rounding a large bend, just 50-yards away, I saw the river

quickly to a large eddy and exited the rafts. My mouth was dry. A great relief washed over me.

It was a hard portage with all our gear and boats to the base

of Mother Bear Falls. The river cascaded 25-feet, ricocheting off

polished conglomerate, and culminated in a cloud of mist and spray. It was a beautiful, tranquil spot – worthy of a roadside

was a mistake. After an hour of hiking with heavy packs, on

retreat. This was the same cliff that Oliver, Ueli and I had brought climbing gear for. Our objective was to reach the Eye

of the Needle – the largest arch in the valley – stood like a sentinel on the canyon rim overlooking the gorge. There was a distinct possibility that no one had ever been there before.

Oliver and Ueli are expert mountaineers and have

attraction in any national park. But the hordes of tourists were

climbed all over the Alps together, so I was more than happy

there to support them, no array of port-o-potties leaking their

cliff, Ueli took the lead. The rock was flaky, unprotected, and

thankfully missing, no network of roads or infrastructure stench into the landscape. The area was lonely in the best way possible; pure, unbridled wilderness.

The next two canyons, Thunder and Merganser, were more

fun than frightening. The river felt small, splashy, like a flume ride at an amusement park. Scattered along the cliffs above, we spotted a series of natural bridges. Jerry and Ron named

the most prominent which look like the gestures of a giant hand: OK Arch, Knuckle Arch, and Thumbs Up. Arches rarely

form in the Far North due to the slow dissolution of limestone

during the long and cold subarctic winters. Even when these

natural oddities have formed at high latitudes, they are usually

to relinquish the rope to them. At the base of the 40-foot

looked more difficult than I had remembered. At the start of

the climb, there was a small tree which had grown out of a crack in the rock face. If Ueli had fallen just above this, the

rope might have caught the tree and arrested his fall. But he had climbed above this point-of-safety and was traversing far out over the void to find better holds. If he slipped, he would

have fallen past us and hit the boulders some 70-feet below.

No one spoke. Oliver grew silent as we watched his brotherin-law make the final, delicate moves to the top. Soon, Ueli had an anchor built and was belaying us up.

FACING PAGE: Oli and Ueli beneath Pinnacle Mountain.

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At the Eye of the Needle, we took photos and ate sardines.

The Tatonduk Valley has remained pristine because very

There was no evidence that anyone had been there before us,

few people know of its existence. For a long time, I debated

The following day, we would see a Dall sheep standing on top

these words could reveal it to the wrong people, perhaps

and we made sure to erase any evidence of our own passing. of the arch; seemingly to mock our efforts. In the distance we spotted another natural bridge, this one undocumented. You

would only be able to see the hole in the rock from our vantage point. I decided to name it Swiss Arch, in honor of my two

friends, who had travelled halfway around the world to share

writing this article for that very reason. Simply publishing

those who would rather profit than protect. However, if no one knows of its existence – no one is likely to care about its

defilement either. Luckily, the remote location and subarctic winters will keep most people at bay. Most.

Author and naturalist Henry David Thoreau once wrote,

this adventure. I might have come here without them, but I

‘In wildness is the preservation of the world.’ It is a lovely but

Inside the gorge, the river hurtled down into a fissure

the wilderness; he was talking about the wild spirit within

was glad I didn’t have to.

and disappeared. We couldn’t see the black widow herself but we knew she was there – right where the canyon was at it

narrowest. A faint game-trail led towards this spot and then continued on the opposite side. It was true, game animals

could leap across the gorge in one jump. Downriver, there was an adjoining valley with sheer walls rising to either side. It would take ropes to access. Had anyone ever been

often misrepresented statement. Thoreau wasn’t writing about people. When visiting Tatonduk, I felt that wildness. How could I not? It inspired me to do what I could, however little, to protect this savage paradise. For now, I rest assured that as long as Dan Reynolds is managing his hunting concession,

the area will remain protected and wild indeed. The only question remains: for how long?

there? I believed, with good reason, the valley would remain unexplored until our return.

FACING PAGE UPPER: The aptly named Eye of the Needle Arch, basking tin the evening glow.

FACING PAGE LOWER: Oli and Ueli drift across the peaceful waters beneath Pinnacle Mountain (named by Jerry Dixon and Ron Watters).

THIS PAGE: The vertical walls rising hundreds of feet and loose rocks and boulders make for a challenging and physically exhausting portage.

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THE IRIS Al l owing the adventure t o get i n t he way of d oc u ment a t i on Story | Karla Ann Charlton

T

here is an unspoken tension between myself, technology

and the world. But still I haul around my camera gear

everywhere I go. Photography is my creative outflow, a form of expression in sharing beauty. If I catch the moment.

Photography was my first love, but I quickly learned

how an image could steal your soul. It was the difference of a millisecond. The more travel and adventure I took on, the

Original Artwork | Tom Jay

There is a moment of exasperation, but it’s followed by

relief. Relief to enjoy the simplicity of the present and the

experience in such good company. I take it as a sign from the Universe. Perhaps I need to pay closer attention. Perhaps my intuition is distracted. This kind of thing can be a valuable guide in the wild.

At the summit, we dig a snow pit on the face we intend to

more stunning imagery I missed on camera. I had witnessed

surf down and we indulge ourselves in tea and snacks. After

settings. Lost that epic action moment in sport, missing the

and tuck in any loose ends. We’re ready to rip.

faces change, and light rearrange in the scramble to dial in light that gave my subject life.

Capturing the essence of life on film came with operator

errors, timing was imperative. When everything lined

confirming good stability, we piece our splitboards together, The snow is fast and my chosen line is playful, I barely

notice the extra weight of my camera gear.

At the base of the mountain we start the walk out, back

up though, the ability to capture light and stop time was

towards home. Across the valley on a different aspect we

all cylinders, striving to strike balance in my relationship

cubs propagating an avalanche. The three of them spook

transcending. Documenting existence had me firing on with imagery.

Outdoor adventures also stimulate my curiosity. My

favourite range to explore is a glacier shoulder in Canada, sandwiched between BC, the Yukon and Alaska. The sheer vastness lures me back time and time again. Each time I return, calculated in my approach to reach the summit, I’m humbled, bullied by the volatitlity of the weather.

hear a ruckus. I look up to see a sow grizzly bear and two and scurry their way safely above the fracture line. After the commotion everything is still. There is a long drawn out silence as that incredibly powerful image is ingrained in my mind. Two natural forces of multitudes together in the

same instant. I did capture that moment, as a memory I will never forget.

Let us not forget the magic in observation and privacy.

Here, light is sparse. Every hour counts during the

While documentation on an adventure is a bonus, it’s the

months, a weather window arrived for a long day in the range

sliver of where we have been. Let us not forget why we explore,

northern winters. After patiently waiting over a couple of with a close friend.

The first obstacle is a river crossing amongst dense

old growth, in which we have to soak our feet. We skin up

through the forest, then navigate old glacier features to the

journey itself that holds the depth. An image represents only a

for nurture rather than validation. There is something sacred about living without the interruption of technology, able to embody the fullness of that moment in time.

summit with stunning views for as far as the eye can see.

I pull my camera out to catch a vista of my trip as the sun shines down on a serac. My camera doesn’t share my content.

It’s dead from the -25ºC temperatures… classic. I search for my extra battery only to discover I left it at basecamp below… classic. Yet another epic day in the mountains goes by undocumented.

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TYNE TRAVELLER An upriver a ssa u l t on t he ri ver Tyne Story | Fenwick Ridley

Photography | Luke from Outdoor Provisions & Fenwick Ridley

For as long as he can remember, Fenwick Ridley has been a man of the water. Not in a big-wave-surfing, carrying-boulders-along-

the-bottom-of-the-ocean, paddling-traditional-wooden-canoes-between-Polynesian-islands kind of way, this is something altogether different. He’s been a competitive swimmer for over 17 years and it’s in long distances, outdoors and in the cold where he really thrives.

He soon found his way to ice swimming and has been trying to find his limits ever since. He has swum among icebergs in Hooker Glacier in New Zealand and covered 2km in 2˚C water just in his trunks. He’s been a swimming coach now for over 20 years, and in March 2022 he took home five gold medals in the Scottish Winter Swimming Championships. It was in the waterways of his home county Northumberland

though, that he developed his own version of what’s popularly known as wild swimming. Taking on his home river, the Tyne, he fought his way against the river’s natural flow, walking, falling and swimming from sea-to-source and in the process he coined the term river trekking.

Below, he explores what it is about following a river course like this that is so attractive as he recounts some of his experiences on the Tyne.

L

egs wide, knees bent, I hook myself into the rocks, sand

and mud of the river floor. Here, the river is narrow and

shallow. The water rushes against my body and small waves

form against my torso and a long wake trails behind me where

my body interrupts the river’s natural flow. A tow-rope,

I suppose I began river trekking at quite a young age, about

6 or 7-years-old. I’d be standing in my wellies in the stream by my parents’ house gazing upstream thinking ‘I’d love to see up around the next bend,’ so one day I set off to find out.

With my little green wellies sloshing around the slippery

stretched out ruler-straight, connects me to a small raft which

stones, I wondered up and climbed carelessly on, not thinking

objective today seems unlikely, it’s taken me a couple of hours

me. On my amble back with the echoes of my parents’ voices

flutters on the disturbed surface of the water. Completing my to move about 1000 metres along this challenging section.

I’ve spent the entire day on this river making my way from

sea- to-source up the river Tyne and I’m exhausted. The sides

for a second about the fact I was leaving my home far behind calling my name as they searched for me frantically, I realised I was in deep trouble.

Running around in the woods, building dens, tree houses

of the river are thick with over-hanging bushes. Bailing here

and playing in the river was my normal. Today, I guess there’s

fighting my way through the bushes and trees to the pasture

how I spend much of my time is exactly the same. At least

would mean wedging my body through the thick foliage, and behind. It wouldn’t be pretty.

Leaning diagonally upriver, I stand in an attempt to

regain my strength. I’m exhausted, continuing feels like

no real difference. I’m bigger and there’s less boundaries but now I’m stronger and with much better gear. My parents do still worry though.

That curiosity and spark for adventure runs through

unnecessary torture. But up ahead of me, the river is stunning

us all in different ways and to differing degrees. For me it’s

smash through the snacks in my pack, I’m overcome by this

together what I call my Do List. This isn’t a bucket list,

and I’m reminded of why I’m here in the first place. As I burst of joy and energy and it’s more than enough to spur me forward. Bring it on.

Against the flow, this an upriver assault from sea-to-

source, a test of endurance, grit and strength. A journey by any means necessary; swimming, walking and falling.

Adventure Swimming was the name we first came up

something I could never put down. In my thirties, I put it’s a list of mad, crazy, fun things to do, but in no way is it

fantasy. These are 100% doable things that I absolutely intend

on achieving. I must admit, there are a few on the list which

have me questioning how on Earth I’m going to make my way through it, but pushing boundaries is important.

with for these kinds of journeys, but, considering the large

obstacles I’d face and the brutal endurance it took to move against the flow, towing my raft behind me, it wasn’t enough.

FACING PAGE: Passing underneath Haydon Bridge footbridge on the South Tyne about 8 miles from the starting point that day. LUKE FROM OUTDOOR PROVISIONS

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I had been thinking about doing a big river journey

Before the reward though, first comes the payment.

like this for a few years and it soon made its way to the Do

Bruises and twisted ankles are just a small part of the pain on

location. It’s near to where I live, which means I could finish

being swept down river from slipping and hitting larger rocks.

List. The River Tyne was a perfect candidate because of its

a day on the river and then travel home. I also knew the river

the river and in faster sections, there is the very real danger of On one particular occasion I fell and had my raft

really well. I had grown up on it, paddling the whole stretch

wrapped around a tree in the water which was pretty scary.

This journey along the Tyne then would be a sentimental

trapped by a log, the raft one side and myself the other.

with my friend Keith, who I later lost to cancer.

one, dedicated to a dear friend who I spent a lot of time on

that river with. This is where I’d test out the gear that would

support such strain and punishment. The river would gradually

It was quite a thing to be in this unfortunate position, I was ready with the knife to cut myself free but thankfully, I managed to get loose before actually having to.

There is something quite unique about trekking through

get more challenging but I knew I’d develop the conditioning

the water and swimming against its flow. It’s not a popular

In recent years, trekking this river has created some

sport in Japan and some other Asian countries, and, in some

to cope with it as I went.

incredible treasured moments with my dad following me, constantly checking in on the walkie-talkie. Sometimes he

concept over here but something pretty similar is a traditional ways it’s pretty similar to canyoning or gorge-walking.

River trekking provides a unique perspective of the

and my fiancée Jenny would just pop up in the most unlikely

countryside and a chance to look in areas of the river not many

me a nut job or a crazy hairy fish.

a beautiful river flowing down with all this lovely countryside

places to support and heckle me. Waving and smiling calling

When I was tackling the South Tyne, not very far down

the river from my hometown, Hexham, I remember seeing

the main bridge that goes into town, towering high above

the river. It was such a beautiful blue sky day, I couldn’t have

of us have actually seen. Quite often I’m stood there looking at

around me – perhaps inaccessible because of private land or

the thick trees along the edge – and I realise that probably, no one else has ever stood in this spot.

As far as I know, no one else has trekked the entire length

asked for any better. I was feeling good, swimming up against

of this river at least hasn’t been digitally recorded, and that’s

the distance watching my progress. I knew I was just about to

land, that’s quite a popular thing, but not what I’ve done.

the flow and I could see there was people on the bridge, in finish and I could go and have a pizza or something and it just gave me this huge inner roar to keep going.

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exciting to me. Many people have trekked the full length by

Through these journeys that I’ve witnessed my own strength, to broadcast to myself what I’m capable of

FACING PAGE: Knackered before a rest in Haydon Bridge, still happy, still buzzing, still raring to go! LUKE FROM OUTDOOR PROVISIONS THIS PAGE UPPER: Quite a magical moment heading for one of the rest points, after a deeper section on the South Tyne. FENWICK RIDLEY THIS PAGE LOWER: Me and my dad (Geroge Ridley). Here he picked me up to take me home after following me up the banks of the North Tyne.

One of the favourite shots of me and my dad, us having a laugh about what I’d just been up to. FENWICK RIDLEY

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It was super attractive to accomplish the whole North

Journeys like this can be done on a very small scale and you

section, but the idea of doing the South too soon became even

could do what I did when I was younger, get the wellies on, get

done not just one river, but two, to see what I had achieved

only be a few hundred meters, but that’s river trekking!

more so, and that feeling just escalated. To be able to say I had

knowing I could do more! So far, I have completed 95% of the

into a stream and have a really gentle jaunt upstream. It might For me, to get up through a section where the river is

River Tyne, both North and South, and I’m hoping to finish

particularly strong, able to look back and say, wow! I absolutely

have completed all the main waterways in Northumberland,

that I’ve witnessed my own strength, to broadcast to myself

the final section of the South in the next few weeks. Once I I’ll then move onto Cumbria. We are very lucky in this country,

because we’re surrounded by waterways, by high volume rivers and beautiful little streams.

bossed that! That’s addictive. It’s been through these journeys what I’m capable of.

FACING PAGE UPPER: A monumental arrival point at Lambley Viaduct on the Nort Tyne. It took a long while to pick the right day for this as I wanted good weather.

The section before this photo was absolutely brutal, I had quite a lot of bruises after that. FENWICK RIDLEY FACING PAGE CENTRE: Just before Haydon Bridge on the South Tyne, here the water is shallow and fast meaning the thighs are burning. LUKE FROM OUTDOOR PROVISIONS FACING PAGE LOWER: Having a rest in the refuge of still water within a flooded tree on the South Tyne. FENWICK RIDLEY THIS PAGE: Set to go again, exhausted but refuelled after a pizza in Haydon Bridge. LUKE FROM OUTDOOR PROVISIONS

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THE SHAKEDOWN THE ESSENTIAL RIVER TREKKING KIT The North and South Tyne are very different rivers which required different equipment setups. So I soon learned to adapt my setup daily as the river conditions

changed and to make transitioning from walking to swimming and back again easier.

On the North Tyne I just had my gear in a drybag

on top of the raft. When I had to walk, I basically just

put it on my shoulders until I was swimming again but it was fairly tough going. When I started the South Tyne, I knew there would be more walking and falling, so I opted

for a really tough waterproof rucksack that could attach

to the ruckraft. The transition between swimming and walking was much easier, I could just drop the bag off my back into the water.

I started off wearing neoprene dive boots with thick

soles. They worked great for small amounts of river

trekking but I went through three pairs in two rivers. By this point, I was pretty invested into the concept and so

opted to drill small drainage holes into an expensive pair of boots. Since then though, I’ve found these amazing wading boots from Taimen. They’re super strong, light

but thick with drainage holes. I wear those with 4mm neoprene socks.

A really important part of my equipment is my knife,

especially when towing a raft. I actually hang it around my neck so it’s super accessible. With the raft, there’s

always the possibility of it getting snagged and trapping me. But that’s only reason no one should ever swim with a knife. That is, except Crocodile Dundee of course.

Drinking directly out of the river through a filter

straw became the norm after going through my carry

water the first day and realising I was just carrying too much. That little straw is a lifesaver.

Eventually though, I realised that one of my biggest

tools was the power of oats. I started making these oat balls and they had all sorts in them, loads of different

seeds, nuts, dates peanut butter, the whole shebang.

That was definitely was one of my biggest power tools for river trekking.

It is important to say, we do need to prepare and

we do need to do our homework and research the river properly. If you know a river quite well, maybe you’ve paddled it, or you’ve spent a lot of time down there having

picnics, that’s golden. maybe next time get yourself some wetsuit boots or even some trainers. Why not do what I

did and drill a few holes in the sides. Normal socks tend to hold a lot of water, so get some neoprene socks and get yourself in the water. Have a little bit walk, and make

sure you have a walking stick or something to help you if you start falling over.

BASE RECOMMENDS THE VOITED DRYCOAT Perfect for sticking straight on wherever you are and whatever the weather. Long-sleeved and oversized, the versatile dry coat acts as a changing robe and an insulated waterproof shelter.

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3 9 1 5

4

7

6

10 8

1 HOMEMADE HAZEL WOOD WALKING STICK My dad knocked that up for us and put a little hole in it.

That little strap is for clipping onto my belt. So it’s easy access from walking to swimming.

2 TAIMEN ONON WADING BOOTS Those are amazing boots. Super strong, light and thick.

They’ve got the drainage holes. There I’ve got my neoprene socks tucked in too, which are 4mm. We need a premier sock for that extra comfort.

3 TYR SWIM PADDLES The dinner plates, these are super important for the extra

strength going against the flow. Absolute monsters, but with the burn they were a real torurure chamber delivery system.

4 RED WATERPROOF DRY POUCH That little pouch is also a lifesaver. I never trust waterproof, because you know, everything decays and everything

eventually lets the water in And so my phone goes inside the pouch inside the bag.

5 ZONE 3 SWIM GOGGLES Super useful bit of kit for river trekking.

6 PALM FOLDING KNIFE For ease of access, I have this tucked close to my chest.

It’s a special knife, a bit like a little saw.

7 2XPLORE WATER STRAW This is my drinking filter. That little straw was a lifesaver.

I take a small amount of water in my backpack and then once that’s finished, I’ll start drinking out of the river.

8 QUICK RELEASE BELT This has my raft attached as well as my hand paddles and my stick for when I need to grab them.

9 ABOVE – BELOW RUCKRAFT This is a specially designed adventure float, to make

traveling across water and then continuing the adventure possible. This is a very important bit of kit.

10 YETI PANGA This bag is a fully waterproof, completely submersible.

It’s very, very tough. Really thick, but very light. It can take some absolute beatings!

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M A K E R S A N D I N N O VAT O R S The proble m w i t h n e o p re n e : a closer look at envi ron m e n t a lly f ri e n d ly we t su i t i n n ova t i o n Story | Chris Hunt

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On the one hand, our community of ‘outdoors people’ are pretty well connected to the natural world. With endless hours spent exploring intricate regions of our environment, we’re often among the first to see the impacts of environmental destruction and global warming.

Skiers and mountaineers are some of the closest witnesses to the ever rising snow-line; the relationship between land management and

hikers and mountain bikers alike is an intimate one; while divers and surfers are acutely aware of ocean pollution and humanity’s losing battle with microplastics. On the other, sits a painfully real contradiction. We’re some of the most active travellers – ready at the drop of a hat to jump on a plane in order to chase specific weather windows around the globe and our addiction to kit is all too real. Cognitive dissonance at its finest. While the simple act of sliding across an open wave face is a movement intrinsically linked to the natural world;

reliant on an understanding of tides, distant and local weather systems, ocean floor topography and marine wildlife, surfing still maintains a toxic dependence on damaging materials and unsustainable practices, ultimately polluting the same environments on which it relies.

This is a brief history of the wetsuit and an exploration of where the industry finds itself today.

R

iding waves is an ancient practice, with the first ridden

swells being in sub-tropical island chains like Hawaii

and French Polynesia, but the story of wetsuits designed for cold water surfing is relatively much more recent history.

In 1951, Hugh Bradner, a physicist from the University

of California was experimenting with designs for the U.S.

Navy. Deemed too similar to flight suits though, his first patent application was rejected while the Navy expressed

their concern that in wearing his design, divers became more visible on sonar due to the gas within the suit itself.

The following year, with surfing in mind, Jack O’Neill

The main component in all of these historical wetsuit

designs as well as today’s is of course neoprene: a foamed synthetic rubber compound, developed by DuPont in the

1930s. Neoprene is created through a chemical reaction using

chloroprene and an oil derivative called butadiene as the binding compound in a process called polymerisation to create long chains of repeating molecules leaving polychloroprene

chips. Those chips are then melted together and combined

with other foaming agents and carbon pigments, before being baked and sliced into sheets.

Neoprene is of course not at all a unique material for

started producing wetsuits out of his home in Santa Cruz.

wetsuits, it’s used in anything from car parts to drinks

in 1959 with the motto ‘It’s always summer on the inside’.

wetsuits are its most direct and obvious function – designed

He formed the company O’Neill and began selling these suits

Around the same time, Bob Meistrell started producing a similar design under the name Body Glove. Both O’Neill and

Body Glove soon became iconic names within the sport and have endured right to the present day.

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coolers. Making up the main body of the suit though, to absorb and trap a small amount of water warmed from

the wearer’s own body temperature then used as insulation.

Those first wetsuits of the 1950s were delicate and easily torn but they soon evolved to include a nylon lining, which

Natural rubbers are used in zero-failure products, such as surgical gloves, condoms and airplane tyres and in wetsuits

although strengthened the material, made them less

rarely been at the forefront of the agenda and neoprene has

neoprene stitched together with new techniques developed

better environmental stewardship though, we’re seeing

flexible. By the 1970s, wetsuits were made of double-backed for joining the seams, such as taping, glueing or binding.

Eventually the process of blind-stitching was adopted in which the material is not completely punctured to further prevent leaking.

remained as almost the sole material. In a shift towards brands across the product spectrum reverting towards

naturally occurring, responsibly sourced materials with a consideration for product afterlife.

For a while now, many mainstream surfing brands have

The decades that followed saw a boom in the popularity

opted for a limestone-based neoprene as an ‘environmentally

temperatures and so wetsuit brands experimented in the push

evils, in reality this is still far from a lightly treading option.

of surfing across the globe and across a greater range of water towards increased comfort, flexibility and insulation. That included the introduction of different materials like Spandex,

stronger glues and thermoplastics and in the ‘90s titanium became a feature of many higher-end wetsuits.

Today, riding waves is no longer dictated by season –

friendlier option’. And while arguably the lesser of two

Limestone-based neoprene requires a huge amount of energy to process. First being quarried and shipped to its production facility, it’s then melted at temperatures of 3000ºC to be blended with other materials.

Gabe Davies is a former professional big wave surfer and

at least not in the sense of temperature. Waves in the most

several-times National Surfing Champion. He’s also from

Iceland or Arctic Norway and as far south as South Georgia

amount of time wearing all kinds of wetsuits.

northern reaches like the Aleutian archipelago of Alaska, and even Antarctica are all explored by travelling surfers.

the North East of England which means he’s spent a huge ‘As a community we’re addicted to neoprene, with the

Understanding our impact on the natural world is

history of the modern wetsuit built upon a reliance on the

lighter, more durable, better performing kit, the application

me. ‘This main ingredient in all the conventional wetsuits

relatively recent in itself, and caught up in the quest for of those impacts to our outdoor kit is even more recent.

In creating better performing wetsuits at a competitive price point, the environmental footprint of doing so has

environmentally culpable petrochemical industry,’ he tells

we surf and swim in is either derived from petrochemical or

limestone sources. Both are non-renewable, fuel the climate crisis and do not have a circular end-of-life pathway.’

PREVIOUS PAGES: Cornish born Patch Wilson taking off deep under the curtain with a bit of ground to make up. AL MACKINNON FACING PAGE: The chest panel inner-lining from one of Patagonia’s natural rubber Yulex wetsuits. PATAGONIA THIS PAGE: Patch Wilson again weightless on a heavy North Atlantic slab. AL MACKINNON

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Depending on where in the world they live, keen surfers

are likely to have several wetsuits to cover temperature fluctuation across the year, and each of those will go through

a hell of a lot of stress each year, stamped on and dragged

format could be used to create a more sustainable alternative

to traditional neoprene, the company Yulex began to explore the opportunity to replace the largest ingredients of a suit.

In 2014 Patagonia became the first brand to bring the

across gravel car parks in the fight to peel wet neoprene from

material created by Yulex to market in the form of wetsuits.

longer functional the suits are not also easily recycled.

product line and in 2016 Patagonia’s entire range was

skin in the icy depths of winter. But once deemed to be no ‘Once it’s started leaking due to wear and tear, pretty

much every wetsuit made, is either dumped in landfill, or left to decay in folks’ garages,’ says Gabe.

And the idea of old product simply breaking down in

Since then it has revolutionised the brand’s entire wetsuit

manufactured using the naturally sourced neoprene alternative.

As Oceans Manager for Patagonia, Gabe is a tangible part of this movement.

‘Natural rubbers are used in zero-failure products, such as

an isolated location might seem like a pretty minor issue, all

surgical gloves, condoms and airplane tyres and in wetsuits,

deeper than just the product itself.

quite easily,’ says Gabe. ‘I think the surf-world is addicted to

things considered, but the problems with neoprene run a little ‘Materials like Chloroprene have a dark shadow behind

them,’ he says. ‘Communities surrounding the facilities that

make Chloroprene, have been known to suffer very high risks of cancer. This is a very industrial process and we are only

just learning about the shocking effect of the processes and its

links way beyond their environmental footprint,’ he continues.

So, what’s the alternative when such a large portion of the

world’s surfing population lives in some degree of cold water

the performance properties match or beat limestone neoprene environmentally unsound ultra-flex suits. Patagonia doesn’t

produce such suits as they’re made to hit a reduced price point which is then reflected in their limited lifespan, and poor durability. Yulex is a premium material which does increase

the cost of the suit; however, the benefit is reflected both in performance and planetary impact. The process saves 80% CO2 per suit.’

As we as outdoor consumers better understand our

and it’s in the most northern and southern reaches in which the

responsibilities as environmental stewards, the industry moves

Natural rubber (as explored in issue 3) is available as

making. But while Patagonia may have blazed the trail in the

most exciting and untapped modern day surf exploration exists?

a renewable source in the form of the Hevea plant and increasingly becoming a valuable resource in the world of manufacturing. Recognising that natural rubber in this

slowly towards better environmentally concious decision wetsuit space, it’s not something they’re looking to exclusively

hold onto and a number of other companies including Finisterre in the UK and France’s Sen No Sen, have since followed suit.

THIS PAGE: Natural rubber being tapped from the FSC Certified Hevea tree in Sri Lanka. TIM DAVIS FACING PAGE: Dan Ross stood tall in the belly of the beast in the North Atlantic. AL MACKINNON

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‘The journey has been over 10 years long from R&D to

‘If you want a super-flex suit with a limited lifespan,

production,’ explains Gabe. ‘But as a company, Patagonia

then don’t buy Yulex – that’s not why we use it. We design

innovation. We’ve been sharing our learnings around Yulex

We stand by our products and try and keep them in the

doesn’t seek to monopolise environmentally responsible with other businesses and advocating that the industry kick its neoprene habit for years with limited success.’

But as is apparent across other industries, so-called

environmentally friendly alternatives often just see the problem shift from one subject to another. Traditionally, Hevea plants are native to the Amazon rainforest where the

our suits to be repairable, long-lasting and multifunctional.

water for as long as possible,’ says Gabe. ‘The first point

of failure on a suit is usually the seams, rather than the rubber panels, or the recycled liners which coat the inside

and outside of the suit so repair is our first course of action with our suits.’

Durability is undoubtedly an integral element in stiving

issues around such cash crops are well documented.

towards sustainability and while there is still a huge shift

rubber on the open trade market can result in clear-cutting

outdoors space, we are seeing stronger multi-use items retake

‘It’s really important to recognise that sourcing natural

of rainforest ecosystems, which again could be worse than the petrochemical process, and only 1% of natural rubber

is certified by the Forest Stewardship Council,’ says Gabe.

towards lighter and smaller functional products across the their seats at the table alongside them.

So with this in mind, has Patagonia perfected the recipe?

‘No, far from it, we’re certainly still learning. The

‘Sri Lanka is where Yulex have their FSC Certified Hevea

blend of Yulex is the single largest ingredient, but the rest

So what’s the impact of better sourced material on

the incomplete combustion of heavy petroleum products]

rubber trees which are tapped for their natural rubber.’

the final performance of these environmentally conscious

wetsuits, something that brands occupying the space have worked tirelessly to build over the last decade? Does being environmentally conscious mean compromising performance and perhaps even comfort or durability?

of the suit comprises carbon black [a material produced by

which we use recycled tyres for, then there is a list of other chemicals, which are not clean, sustainable or eco-friendly,’

says Gabe. ‘We continue to strive to reduce or replace the harmful content in our suits, but Yulex alone is only part of the solution when it comes to the footprint of a wetsuit.’

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Manikia, Greece. It’s the perfect climbing destination for Sasha DiGiulian and Alex Megos: incredibly colorful and overhanging walls, tufas and caves — a sport climber’s dream! For the best performance, they’re wearing SIROCCO helmets and HIRUNDOS harnesses from our PERFORMANCE range. © 2022 - Petzl Distribution - sambie.fr