t h e ad ve n t ure q ua r te r l y
B I K E N ORTH KO REA
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RU N THE HIGH AT L AS
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KAYAK PATAGONIA
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K I TE SK I A N TA RCT I CA
achieve the extraordinary
Expeditions / Adventures / TV & Film www.secretcompass.com Afghanistan / Sudan / North Korea / Bhutan / DRC / Mongolia
Photo: Jan Bakker
Kamchatka / I raqi Kurdistan / Gabon / I RAN / Greenland / SI NAi
TA B L E O F C O N T E N T S
Features
D epa r t ment s
16 T H E M Y S T E R I E S O F M Y O H Y A N G
6 EDITOR’S LET TER
Dan Milner
David Pickford
Mountain biking & exploring in North Korea
24 M A G E L L A N O N M Y M I N D
Hinterlands of the mind
10 B A S E N O T E S
A sea kayak journey to the end of the Americas
The most significant contemporary adventures
32 I N S E A R C H O F T A M A Z I G H T
66 B A C K T O B A S E
Jenny Tough
Mina Leslie-Wujastyk
Will Copestake
Chris Hunt
A solo expedition run across Morocco’s High Atlas
Running & imagination
38 S O U L I N T H E G A M E
70 B E Y O N D B A S E
David Pickford & Leo Houlding
Lizzie Carr
Leo Houlding and the art of modern exploration
Adventures in science
52 K E M P S T O N H A R D W I C K
74 B A S E T E C H
Dan Milner
Chris Hunt
The secret diary of Bedfordshire’s greatest adventurer
Merino magic
58 T H E B A S E I N T E R V I E W
78 B A S E C U L T U R E
Chris Hunt
Tessa Lyons & David Wilson
In conversation with exploratory surfer Kepa Acero
Equilibrium lines
Cont ri b u t ors Dan Milner
Lukasz Warzecha
Kepa Acero
Tessa Lyons
Leo Houlding
David Wilson
Alastair Lee
Callum Stuart
Lizzie Carr
Will Copestake
Editor & Creative Director David Pickford Associate Editor Chris Hunt
Publishing Manager Emily Graham Design Joe Walczak
Jenny Tough
Mina Leslie-Wujastyk
Publisher Secret Compass
Enquiries hello@base-mag.com
Submissions submissions@base-mag.com Advertising advertise@base-mag.com
COVER IMAGE: Jean Burgun kite skiing into the Transantarctic mountains, the most remote mountain range on Earth, pulling a load of 200 kilos with supplies for 65 days. The three man team of Leo Houlding, Mark Sedon and Jean Burgun were the first unsupported expedition ever to climb in the range, which is four times the size of the European Alps. Turn to our feature profile of Leo Houlding to find out more. MARK SEDON
4
EDI TOR’S LET T ER Hinter l a nd s of t he mi nd
T
oday was the day - perhaps the only day - to do this thing.
The most interesting part of Taleb’s aphorism is the notion
Waking long before dawn to a crystal night, we were already
of ‘real harm’. Clearly it encompasses both mortal danger and
sky of the Pamir Alay in western Kyrgyzstan. My partner and
serious adventure might involve. I’d guess that some of the most
far above camp as the light began to break across the spire-broken
I knew that this was the moment for what we’d come here for.
the other risks - financial, relational, psychological - that a
rewarding adventures probably involve most, if not all, of these
It was the first and only day of truly settled weather in two weeks
separate species of hazard.
version of Yosemite in a remote and politically unstable region of
seem evasive. But it’s an effective way of separating proper
500 metre pillar of golden granite that rose between two even
proliferate on social media. I’d also suggest that adventure is as
of climbing in the high valley of Ak Su, a kind of high alpine Central Asia. The new route we climbed - a perfect, untouched larger monoliths - stretched us both to our mental and physical
limits. But as the sun sank below the summits to the west that evening, we were returning to base, making multiple abseils down
a vast overhanging wall back to the scree cone a thousand metres
Defining adventure by what it isn’t, as Taleb does, might
adventures from the phoney, follower-driven heroics that
much a state of mind - a kind of psychic hinterland - as it is a physical experience. A variety of such hinterlands are explored right here, in the very first issue of BASE.
Expedition kayaker Will Copestake imagines the epic
above our tents. Late that night, we arrived back in camp, having
voyages of Magellan and Shackleton as he paddles the wild
but not across it. If the Roman philosopher Seneca was correct
Houlding talks about the otherworldly isolation of climbing in
pushed ourselves close to the edge of what we were capable of, that luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity, then I guess we got lucky that day. We certainly got luckier than top American climbers Tommy Caldwell and Beth Rodden, who
were kidnapped at gunpoint by Islamist militants in the same area
five years prior to our expedition, and only managed to escape after Caldwell pushed one of their captors over a cliff.
When questioning my own motives for leading an
adventurous life, I often think about that day in Kyrgyzstan. Even now, almost fifteen years later, it still sends a strong signal
back about how to tread the thin line between courage and stupidity. The special combination of spontaneity and careful
Patagonian waters they once navigated; climber and explorer Leo the Transantarctic mountains (arguably the world’s most remote
place and featured on our front cover); ultra runner Jenny Tough articulates her empathy with the Berber people of the Atlas
Mountains whose villages she ran through; exploratory surfer Kepa Acero explains his passion for catching waves nobody
has surfed before; leading rock climber Mina Leslie-Wujastyk confesses how an injury forced her to see her home landscape of
the Peak District in a completely new way; and illustrator Tessa
Lyons along with poet David Wilson find their own equilibrium lines in the wild places of Britain and elsewhere.
And, just in case any of that was getting too serious,
preparation our Ak Su climb involved is just a personal example
photographer Dan Milner introduces us to Kempston Hardwick,
into epic, out-of-control territory; we pushed hard in the best
(You’ll also come across Dan’s brilliant photos of North Korean
of how an adventure can be unforgettable without merging
available conditions of the whole expedition, and we just pulled the climb off using all our skills. I’ve been lucky enough to have
Bedfordshire’s greatest adventurer: he’s quite a character. mountain biking in the coming pages).
All of our exceptional contributors in this first issue of
climbed and explored in lots of other places since then, but that
BASE offer their own different perspectives on the adventurous
one of the defining adventures of my life, partly because it so
in ourselves, and in our personal desires to explore, is more
first ascent in Kyrgyzstan with Sam Whittaker still remains delicately balanced the strange scales of risk and reward.
The concept of adventure itself, though, is a notoriously tricky
idea to define. Every easy definition seems to dissolve like silt in a glacial river when held up to real scrutiny. The best summary
I know wasn’t, ironically, coined by a well known practitioner of adventure sports, but by the writer and intellectual Nassim
Taleb (who was also, interestingly, a former Wall Street trader). He writes in his most recent book Skin In The Game that ‘if you
do not undertake a risk of real harm, reparable or potentially irreparable, from an adventure, then it is not an adventure.’ 6
mindset. It strikes me that the value of a sense of real faith
important today than ever before. Social media has created a
public sphere in which extrinsic motivation - the desire for peer
group recognition and response - overrides intrinsic motivation, the desire for inner satisfaction and truth. In the context of
adventure sports, as in most other areas, this is not an altogether
positive trend. I’m glad to admit, then, that this magazine is
part of the global process of pushing back against the aggressive infiltration of our cultural and social spaces by big tech companies, and what the leading technology thinker Shoshana Zuboff has presciently termed ‘surveillance capitalism’.
I’m not suggesting that you shouldn’t upload your adventure
snaps to Instagram, if you want to. At the same time, I hope
that BASE magazine is part of a process in which the most
And whose agenda should determine the fate of the tree? These, of course, are existential as well as environmental questions.
Leo Houlding, one of Britain’s leading modern explorers,
important adventure stories move away from social platforms
strikes a solid definition of what contemporary exploration might
hope it’s also part of a parallel trend of people doing their own
had his own philosophy of adventure, he came back with this
and are delivered in new, original, and inspiring forms. And I thing in wild places, either alone or in small groups, rather than following the crowd.
Exploration, at heart, is as natural a human instinct as the
need for shelter itself. If there’s one character archetype that
unites the disparate personalities of genuine adventure-seekers,
mean in this issue. When I asked him during our interview if he brilliant, simple statement: ‘true adventure must involve true risk
and true uncertainty’. He also added, after a considered pause, that ‘it should have a creative, imaginative element’. I personally find this second element, in some respects, most critical of all.
One of the reasons I’ve been deeply drawn to making first
it’s the figure of Peter Pan - the kid who never grows up. There’s
ascents in my climbing career is the creativity required to find
to lead a genuinely alternative lifestyle. The legendary American
canvas, tracing lines, joining the dots. This same process of creative
often an ageless power in those who make choices enabling them climber Fred Beckey, who died in 2017, was the quintessential
dirtbag: he never married or had children, and was still climbing
and travelling well into his nineties. The story of Beckey’s life,
I think, represents the freewheeling curiosity and sense of mischief required to maintain an adventurous mindset. Getting out there doesn’t just keep you fit. It keeps you young, too.
a new way up a cliff or a mountain; you’re working with a blank
exploration takes place in different ways in all adventure sports, and it’s one of the key reasons that self-organised, self-supported endeavours appeal to free spirits and independent thinkers. You
have picked up this magazine, perhaps, because you believe the world is out there to be explored.
If you’re mulling over that thought as you turn the page,
At the same time, the visionary perception of children is an
I’d like to wish you the warmest welcome to BASE, Britain’s
within the human condition. A child might look at an old oak tree
entertaining, and inspiring wherever you are: at home, at work,
interesting way of understanding the core value of exploration in the garden and want to climb it, but an adult might look at the same tree and want to chop it down because its roots undermine the driveway. Whose priorities are the most important?
new, free, adventure quarterly. I hope you’ll find it engaging, or - most importantly - out there in the wild. Enjoy the issue.
David Pickford
The vast granite monoliths of Kyrgyzstan’s Ak Su valley appear through swirling cloud. DAVID PICKFORD
7
OPENING SHOT Photograph | Lukasz Warzecha
For every Michelangelo, Matisse, or Rodin, Mother Nature has
periods with low rainfall, but can flood dramatically after heavy
in the depths of Jordan’s Wadi Mujib canyon. Jordan’s desert
walls, these canyons are not places to be in bad weather; they can
something even better. Here, she’s seen in all her creative glory canyons are typically dry throughout summer and during winter
rains. As is clearly visible from the water erosion on the retaining become raging torrents during a serious downpour.
BA S E N O T ES The mo st signifi c a nt c ont empora r y a d vent u res
Riding the World’s Biggest Wave
The Great British Swim
the fleeting moments of wave riding. The one exception
15,000 calories per day as he swam the distance of the English
Outside the competition circuit it can be hard to quantify resonates far beyond the boundaries of surfing itself: giant waves. Every year, as Nazaré in Portugal plays host to some of
the best big wave surfers on Earth, the collective finger of the
surf community remains firmly on the pulse, waiting for the swell maps to show the right numbers. During each standout
session of every season, a claim for the world’s biggest wave is logged. In December 2018, Cornwall’s Tom Butler threw
his hat into the ring with what’s been dubbed the first 100ft wave ever ridden. The monster Butler caught is thought to
be as much as 20ft bigger than the previous record, held by Rodrigo Koxa at the start of the same season. Self-Supported Global Cycle Record
Shaving close to three weeks off the previous record, Scottish adventure cyclist Jenny Graham completed her self-
supported circumnavigation of the globe in October 2018.
During the summer of 2018, Ross Edgley was burning up to
Channel every 24 hours in the first ever swim-circumnavigation of the British Isles. The neck chafing Edgley developed over the
157 consecutive days in the water was enough to require three kilograms of Vaseline. This, along with the fact his tongue began to rot, illustrates the scale of the challenge he faced. During
a night-time shift, whilst he tackled the world’s third largest whirlpool at Corryvreckan off the Scottish coast, a face-sucking
jellyfish wrapped itself around his goggles for thirty minutes. As he entered the Bristol Channel, he was accompanied by a
female Minke whale that apparently mistook him for an injured
seal. ‘For all the jellyfish stings and the hardship, you’ll only get a moment like that if you spend twelve hours swimming
in the sea every day for 157 days’ he later said. By the time he
arrived back in Margate, the total distance Edgley swam was 1,796 miles – equivalent to London to Moscow in a straight line.
Over 124 days, the 38 year-old from Inverness averaged
156 miles a day to arrive back at the Brandenburg Gate in Berlin where she’d started in June. Crossing four continents and sixteen countries, Graham’s route took her 18,000 miles.
Impressively, the biggest ride she’d tackled prior to this was Land’s End to John O’Groats in the UK.
Self-Supported Crossings of Antarctica
In the Gulf of Corryvreckan, a face-sucking jellyfish wrapped itself around Edgley’s goggles for thirty minutes
While there’s a degree of contention around the subject of
The First Ski Descent of K2
Ousland’s unsupported crossing in 1996/7 – the recent feats
Karakoram - dubbed the Savage Mountain - sees the harshest
Antarctic crossings – particularly in the shadow of Borge of polar explorers Louis Rudd (UK) and Colin O’Brady (USA) deserve recognition. Setting off on November 3rd
2018, a single mile separated the Brit from the American on the Atlantic shores of Antarctica. By December 27th, as the two men finally neared the Pacific, the two expeditions
culminated in the greatest polar race since Roald Amundsen and Robert Falcon Scott made the first ever journeys to the South Pole in 1911.
As the most northerly of the 8000m peaks, K2 in the Pakistan weather conditions of any of the world’s highest summits.
As such, it is responsible for the second-highest fatality rate among its Himalayan counterparts. Despite yearly efforts,
a successful winter ascent is yet to be achieved. In the summer of 2018, Polish extreme skier Andrzej Bargiel reached the
8,611 metre summit before making the first descent on skis; a daring and highly technical feat. It had been previously attempted with fatal consequences in 2009 and 2010.
Ross Edgley during his 1,796 mile swim around mainland Britain in summer 2018. HARVEY GIBSON
11
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THE
MYSTERIES OF
MYOHYANG M o untain biking & expl ori ng i n N or t h Korea Photography | Dan Milner
M
any were surprised we could go at all, and some said we
Mountain bikes, we hoped, would become the catalyst for
to announcing you’re going to North Korea, given the mystery
barriers and open up conversations with locals, just as they have
wouldn’t come back. It was an understandable response
and air of deep suspicion that hangs over the world’s ultimate
hermit kingdom. Adding a mountain biking focus to an already
edgy trip might appear ambitious at best, or stupid at worst, but there was reason to this two-wheeled madness. We had trails in our sights, but also wanted to see beyond the popular perception of this secretive, virtually unknown country, to look
beyond the posturing and sabre-rattling of world leaders and the hyperbole of the press. 18
experiencing the real North Korea; they might break down
done in so many other remote places I’ve ridden, from Nepal to Afghanistan. Teaming up with logistics guru Tom Bodkin, and
pro-riders Harald Philipp and Max Schumann, we considered
possibilities and followed leads on trail locations. After a year of caffeine-fuelled evenings spent deciphering Google Earth’s simplistic depiction of North Korea’s steep, rugged volcanic
mountains, we finally landed in Pyongyang — with four mountain bikes in tow.
We had trails in our sights, but we also wanted to see beyond the popular perception of this secretive, virtually unknown country
OPENING SPREAD: Harald Philipp and Max Schumann descend Mount Paektu against a vast backdrop of untamed wilderness. As the trip photographer, I had pinned my hopes on Mount Paektu’s stunning landscapes to deliver the visual foundations of the story; I wasn’t disappointed. It reminded me of Alaska, but unlike Western trekking hubs (and despite increasing summer visitors) Mount Paektu boasts few trails. This could quickly change, though, as foreign tourism with an outdoor focus grows. FACING PAGE: Harald Philipp climbs a trail on the flanks of Mount Paektu. Winter temperatures here can fall to a biting -50˚C, and depictions of Paektu’s raging winter blizzards and harsh landscape are commonly used in propaganda to project the strength of the DPRK (The ‘Democratic People’s Republic of Korea’, as North Korea calls itself). The DPRK’s leaders have historically delivered speeches from the summit of Mount Paektu. ABOVE: The DPRK has a strong history of Buddhism, and we rode past many monasteries and pagodas – some of them 1000 years old. Many were decimated by US bombing raids during the Korean War, but have since been renovated. The caretaker at this monastery, on the flanks of Mount Myohyang, emerged to wave as we rode past and offered us apples from his tree.
19
ABOVE: On our second morning at Mount Paektu, Max and Harald carve turns on a trail suspended high above the vast volcanic crater lake known as Chon, or ‘Heaven Lake’. Our original plan a day earlier was to descend to the lake, but this was scuppered by a howling gale. After persuading our guides to revisit Paektu the next morning before our flight onwards, we were left with just two hours of clear weather to complete our pioneering ride. UPPER RIGHT: Ri Un-Hyo, a DPRK Army tour guide, greets us at the birthplace of Kim Jong-Il. The North Koreans are very imageconscious and are generally quite reserved with visitors, but Ri herself descended into fits of laughter during the guided tour when we cracked some slapstick humour. LOWER RIGHT: Knowing that Myohyang’s UNESCO World Heritage forest harboured many hiking trails, we planned four days here, but found most of trails incredibly ambitious for mountain bikes. Mountain biking was our excuse to go and see inside North Korea, and although much of the riding was frustrating, we saw any good riding opportunities that came our way as a bonus. Carrying our bikes up Myohyang opened up many interactions with locals, who snapped photos and filmed us with their smartphones.
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North Koreans are generally quite reserved, but Ri Un-Hyo descended into fits of laughter during our guided tour of the birthplace of Kim Jong-Il, the second Supreme Leader of North Korea
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FACING PAGE UPPER: Derelict and crumbling (but nonetheless inhabited) towerblocks in downtown Pyongyang. The North Korean capital is reported to have a population of over 3 million. FACING PAGE LOWER: A stone tablet of DPRK propaganda greets Max and Harald as they cross a bridge over one of the many steep gorges that slash down the sides of Mount Myohyang. We expected to see plenty of propaganda in Pyongyang, but it came as a surprise deep in the forest. Here, verses extolling the virtues of the DPRK, often handchiselled into rocks, punctuate the popular hiking paths. This one celebrates the defeat of the Japanese occupation of Korea in 1945. The Japanese rule of Korea began in 1910 and ended at the conclusion of World War II in 1945, when U.S. and Soviet forces captured the peninsula. ABOVE UPPER: Like all other foreigners, we had to use a North Korean tour company to arrange our in-country logistics. Our accommodation ranged from family homestays and 3-star hotels in Pyongyang and Myohyang to the only tourist hotel in Samjiyong, near Mount Paektu. This old hotel with its creaking floorboards and vast, icy entrance lobby reminded us of the Stanley Hotel in The Shining. Its plumbing gurgled menacingly, and each room came equipped with an old CRT television and an ancient fridge. We shared its dining room with perhaps 60 other foreigners, all there on the same stopover to visit Paektu. ABOVE LOWER: Going to North Korea was always going to be contentious, and it made funding this trip harder. With only half our total costs covered, we launched a crowd funder, offering postcards from North Korea as a reward. We sent 51 postcards, and finding them was an interesting activity in itself. They ranged from political illustrations to scenes of urban architecture; the most bizarre simply featured people gathered in a conference centre.
23
MAGELLAN ON MY MIND A journey t o t he end of t he A meri ca s Story & Photography | Will Copestake
24
‘S
uerte Amigo!’ Cris waved, wishing Seumas and I good
unlikely candidate for a kayaking destination, but there is great
last human being we would see for almost two weeks. Seumas
It is not a stretch to imagine the early explorers such as Magellan,
luck as we pushed our kayaks seaward. Cris would be the
and I joked that this was ‘Round Two’ as we embarked on a
450km voyage to remote and seldom ventured fjords at the very edge of the world: the Strait of Magellan, Cabo Froward and
reward in being immersed in this raw, untouched wilderness. Darwin and Shackleton crossing these waters, following the long-laid footsteps of the local Kaweskar indigenous peoples.
The Kaweskar are now reduced to a few isolated
glacial exploration was our goal. This trip was a continuation of
communities, but they were the first masters of this intemperate
Natales. If we completed it, we would have kayaked over
engineering using wild materials, and they lived a nomadic
our previous 840km expedition from Puerto Eden to Puerto 1000km through the Patagonian fjords.
Paddling in Patagonia is an experience of spectacular
contrast; a realm of constant interplay between beauty and beast. Vast glacial tongues curl out from the Southern Andes pulling
columns of spray from the sea with their ever-present wind. As a kayaker, there is an alluring remoteness and commitment
to the terrain that lies west of the mountains themselves. This
sea. They travelled in open canoes that were masterpieces of existence by hunting and gathering. Unlike Seumas and I, who were kitted in the best modern Gore-Tex suits and Polartec
base layers, they wore little more than loin cloths, and they lit
fires on a clay hearth inside their boats to survive. It was these flames, spotted by early Western explorers, that gave rise to the name Tierra del Fuego: ‘the land of fire’.
I have found that Patagonian expedition planning is made
region is completely disconnected from civilisation by the
easier by channelling ‘Kaweskar thinking’. This means utilising
is the third largest in the world). Being out there is the paddler’s
and also carefully checkpointing camps with good landing
Southern Patagonian Icecap (after Antarctica and Greenland, it equivalent of big wall climbing or deep jungle exploration. Once you set off, it is entirely up to you to get yourself back.
Throughout three years of kayak guiding and exploring this
far flung corner of the globe, I’ve learned through experience the challenges and rewards of its unique environment: fierce
Austral winds that can average 30 knots (Force 7) in summer, torrential rain, and freezing glacial air. Southern Patagonia is an 26
portage [transporting kayaks by land] between exposed straits, zones. Such strategies are the key to unlocking safe passage. Paddling here is highly dynamic, and must be constantly
reactive to the winds that turn on and off with such immediacy. But before all that begins, you need a red stamp.
The notoriously officious Chilean navy are the gatekeepers
to any adventure in this region. Without their permission, even the smallest of trips is considered illegal. To pass their rigorous
inspection, a kayaker must demonstrate complete confidence in
Ullapool in the Highlands of Scotland, an experience which
meetings, and detailed presentations where we had to plot
belief that burly adventures need serious planning, but also a
skill, preparation and equipment. There were gear inspections, the co-ordinates for every conceivable camp - and for all our
emergency escapes. Even with all this in order, the local help from Cris was essential in persuading them. Finally we got the all-clear.
‘The eyes of the Chilean navy are on you, good luck.’ The
captain stamped the form after months of planning. The gates were opened and, finally, we were free to go.
Unusually calm conditions let us paddle 45km on our
had laid the foundations for where we were now. It is our strong healthy dose of humour.
The next morning, we paddled the remaining 5km to the
end of Seno Obstruccion and arrived at our first of two major portages. To our surprise, someone had built a walkway through
the dense vegetation to the first lake. More incredibly, inside the remains of an old shack, Seumas found a spoon to replace
the one he’d left behind. Luck was on our side, or so it seemed. Four kilometres of lakes and portages lay between us and
first day, which was not bad in boats loaded to the deck-line
Seno Skyring, an inland sea which we hoped to reach next.
the harbour, the shore turned to its usual wild state of spiky
carry the boats across. This is where Seumas - a gamekeeper
with over 110kg of supplies, food and gear. Soon after leaving vegetation hanging low over the water between long stretches of impregnable cliffs. Struggling to find any landings - let alone
campsites - we raced the light for a river delta on our maps, and camped on a shingle spit barely wide enough to fit our tent.
‘Bollocks. I forgot my spoon!’ Seumas chuckled, shaking his
There was no easy way around but to unload, shuttle gear and
by profession - came into his own. Dragging stags off Scottish
mountains isn’t much different to pulling kayaks through Patagonian scrub.
head in disbelief as we both laughed. Journeys like this brought
Seumas and I back to our childhood growing up together in
PREVIOUS PAGES: Seumas Nairn leading the way into the narrow entrance of Canal Gajardo, the hidden sea route through the southern Patagonian mountains. THIS PAGE: Dwarfed under the snout of the Santa Ines Glacier at the end of Seno Ballena, the scale of the ice was incomprehensible from our tiny kayaks. This image of Seumas Nairn was shot from atop a small island.
27
It has always been a conscious decision in my planning to
Approaching the narrowest point in the channel, we
buck the trend of most foreign expeditions in Patagonia, which
accelerated on the outflowing tide into a bottleneck and were
months. Unwittingly, such trips take place in the windiest
rain, I could see Seumas forging a path through the ice toward
normally take place during the longer daylight of the summer conditions of the year. I prefer to mimic the locals, who tend
to travel on the edge of winter, forfeiting daylight for calmer air. The payoff was better and easier paddling, in exchange for twilight races for camps.
Short days aside, we had made fantastic progress. Just two
days into our adventure we were already a full day ahead of
schedule. This gave us the opportunity to add on a bonus fjord hidden in the western end of Seno Skyring; the enticingly
pushed through to the other side. Squinting through curtains of the glacier. Sheltered in the lee of a headland, we listened to the boom of icebergs calving. The rain saturated and stung our
skin but turned the sea alive in dancing ripples around our boats. ‘Time to go!’ we agreed by spinning a hand signal to
turn around, since it was too loud to hear each other clearly. The wind was rising, as was the risk of the ice packing together and crushing us.
Finding refuge between the sheer granite walls was a
named Estrecho de Glaciares, or ‘Strait of the Glacier’.
serious challenge, especially with light fading fast. All apparent
guzzled a handful of trail mix and a block of rubbery cheese
Cutting a small clearing into the vegetation in case of
Jogging up and down a beach to warm our feet up, we
we had nicknamed ‘Dunlop’. The water had turned from deep blue to an opaque emerald by the combination of tea-coloured
river flow and suspended turquoise glacial dust. In the distance, a deep blue curtain of ice flowed between the Gran Campo Navaro mountain range, whose peaks were hidden by the
campsite options were overgrown with deep hummocks. emergency, we took a calculated risk and pitched on the beach, hoping we had assessed the tide right. It was a sleepless night
spent inspecting the rise and fall at the water’s edge, which came to within metres of our tent.
As the rain grew heavier overnight it dampened the wind
incessant rain. The occasional thunder of ice crashing from the
to a rare, calm day. We started early, hoping to reach the end
Clinging to lines attached to the bow of our kayaks with
entire trip to reach portage number two before the next storm.
glacial snouts broke the silence.
numb fingers, we pulled the boats upstream through a short
of the canal and cross one of the most exposed sections of the
rapid to reach the glacial lagoon. As if by divine intervention, our arrival coincided with the clearing of the cloud. As the wind dropped to a glassy calm, the spectacle of an iceberg-filled lake and the emerging peaks mirrored double. Suddenly, we had the
first glimpse of clear sky we had seen since our departure. The immediate warmth of the light saturated body and soul. Glaciar Galeria was soon fully exposed before us, from lake to peaks.
The rain and wind, though, soon returned overnight.
Fighting across the fjord against spindrifts of spray we searched for a storm camp, watching columns of salt water whirl into the sky
We paddled back to Seno Skyring at a sprint the next morning
against a stiff headwind. The shoreline was dramatically steep, and even through the sleet the towering rock walls were
Nature was everywhere on this seldom visited coast. We
impressive. As the fjord opened into Skyring, we turned south.
watched dolphins rise and follow us between the melting
through two narrow channels. We hoped to follow the western
lions barked. Grey sky, silvery rock walls and granite mountains
Seno Skyring is a tremendous inland sea which drains
route through Canal Gajardo. At less than 100m wide at its narrowest point, this channel experiences raging 15 knot
tide races, and would be a logistical challenge. Away from
the main ocean, the fjords have their own tidal cadence. The
little information we’d managed to find never matched reality. Instead, we would have to plan upstream camps in case the flow was too strong, and react to what we found on the move.
icebergs, and otters curiously peered out from the kelp. Sea formed a monochrome world. In contrast, vibrant pink flowers
amidst the lush forests, the bright orange bills of flightless steamer ducks, and the yellow feet of kelp geese gave flashes of
colour. Albatross and penguins were here as expected, but the parrots and hummingbirds who shared their territory seemed out of place.
The mighty rock walls opened into a wide bay, and we
Even by Patagonian standards, our journey into Gajardo
crossed a sound under misty conditions at a fast pace. To reach
Scotland. The air was filled with the churning roar of hundreds
and turned hard in our face on the final section. Turning east into
was wet; seldom have I seen such heavy rain, and I’m from
of waterfalls cascading like white ribbons. Occasional glimpses through the thick blanket of cloud revealed deep blue crevasses
in the icecap atop the towering rock walls around us. The ice itself seemed to glow in the monotone light.
the other side was an exhausting push, especially as the wind rose
a heavy following sea, we headed into a dead-end fjord to our
second major portage. Here, we would cross east and join Canal
Jeronimo and the Strait of Magellan. Finishing early, we chose to shelter under our tarp and rest before a full day of hauling boats.
FACING PAGE: Seumas Nairn portaging a fully laden 100kg+ sea kayak across inland lakes between Canal Gajardo and Canal Jeronimo. Here, the team were following an ancient Kaweskar route; hundreds of years ago the Kaweskar people also pulled their canoes between these waters.
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The landscape was open and windswept. We were following
edges, using the counter-current eddies of each headland to pull
felt every bit as wild as it would have for them. Scouting a path
reaching a headland too large to round, but thankfully it never
a traditional Kaweskar route; between fleeting snow showers, it
then hauling bags and finally dragging boats, we slowly closed
the gap between the two fjords. A final 150m long stretch of class II-III whitewater led to the sea. In an unloaded kayak it
would be a straight run, but the risk of damage to the hulls was too high. Instead, we waded down the riverbank with the boats
us south at up to 3 knots in the right direction. Our fear was
came. At one point, Seumas ventured uncomfortably close to a sea lion colony; the boisterous animals provided good motivation to paddle harder.
Chasing a pod of whales in the distance, we made it to the
mouth of the channel. Finally we were in the Strait of Magellan.
on a line, tracking our way into the sea triumphantly.
It was a short but special moment: to experience a place so
spindrifts of spray, we searched for a storm camp. Watching
emotional. These were the waters navigated by some of the
A while later, fighting across the fjord against fierce
towering columns of salt water whirl into the sky, we waited stormbound on a promontory for a whole day as it passed by.
familiar from stories and adventure lore was exciting and greatest explorers in history - Magellan, Shackleton, and Fitzroy - and here we were joining them. Across the Strait we could see
Carlos III island, and the infamously rough Cabo Crosstide. If we were to round it successfully, there was a hidden fjord
Icebergs crunched past our bows, and a colossal icecap reared up at the head of the fjord. The scale was awe-inspiring
famous for whales and glaciers to explore. But to get there we had to paddle now, and paddle hard. Aiming on a sight transect far upstream of the island, we ferry glided across on the flow
reaching Carlos III just a kilometre downstream of Crosstide. Fighting our way against the flow into chaotic water breaking
across our bows, we crossed the tide. The effect had strange A fiery sunrise greeted us with fair wind the next morning.
On the horizon a pointed granite tower dominated the fjord as
we ventured into the tidal race of Canal Jeronimo. Averaging
familiarity to ‘The Swilkie’ tidal race in Scotland’s Pentland
Firth, where Viking folklore tells of an angry drowned sailor who stirred the ocean from beneath to pull others down.
Seno Ballena, or ‘the Fjord of the Whales’, lived up to
7-8 knots of tidal flow, we were unfortunate to have it against
its name. As we paddled we could see their characteristic
narrow channel, impressive standing waves broke a playful surf,
out a line of floating ice flowing from the glacier hidden
us all day, with no choice but to fight it. In the middle of the
but were far too strong to fight. We clung to the vegetated
spouts and tail slaps in the distance. We could also just make
around the bend. This was to be the pièce de résistance of our
THIS PAGE: Crossing the infamously rough Cabo Crosstide close to the calmest point of the tidal flow: our first true taste of the Strait of Magellan. FACING PAGE: Ice and silence: Seumas Nairn deep in the fjord directly under the snout of the Santa Ines Glacier at the end of Seno Ballena.
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whole journey; a hidden world I’d long anticipated exploring.
Starting and finishing in the dark, Seumas and I paddled
Seldom have I rounded a corner to such an immediately
like demons along the Strait. We covered 60km in 9 hours,
Rocky mountains rose sheer from the water to pointed
had been probably the safest, most land-able and camping
breathtaking spectacle.
ridges, crystal icebergs crunched past our bows, and at the
head of the fjord the colossal wall of an icecap reared up. The scale was awe-inspiring. The air was so still that we could
hear the smallest shards of ice falling. Climbing a small island, we lingered and watched for over an hour. It was a rare treat against the constant pace of expedition life.
6 hours of which were against the tide. To my surprise, the shore
friendly of the entire journey. As so often happens, the stories were far worse than reality. Landing on the banks of the Rio del
Oro, the river of gold, we looked out in the dark to a lighthouse flashing some 11km to the east. The southern tip of the South American landmass was finally in sight.
On our first and only clear night, we celebrated with
The calm wasn’t to last forever, and the next day we were
an open fire for our exhaustive efforts: we’d done 400km in
battled north around the island in hopes of finding company
us to round the Cape before the afternoon storms returned.
blown right back to Carlos III island. Seeking refuge, we
at a remote eco-dome settlement manned by a lone caretaker. To our surprise, we found a French yacht and a fishing boat
moored in the bay. Welcomed in with open arms, we were
treated like kings by the caretaker who offered us a night in the domes and a hot meal.
The fishermen thought we were mad, but the yacht’s crew
were suitably impressed. Looking out to the wild wind ripping down the Strait of Magellan, all I could think about was the next few days. The committing nature of the Strait, and the
12 days. We had high hopes that an early start would allow
Escorted by a pod of Magellanic dolphins, we soon arrived under the mighty cliffs of Cabo Froward. 300m above us, a
great cross marked the apex of mainland South America. Throwing our paddles in the air in triumph, we high-fived our
first continent rounded. The celebration was as much one of
relief to be on the home strait as it was of triumph in reaching this landmark, as beyond Cabo Froward our final 50km was largely sheltered from wind and waves.
It seemed appropriate to land and wander up the steep hill
wind battered Cabo Froward - the most southerly point of the
to the cross. Taking with us some assorted fine cheeses kindly
nauseous thinking about venturing into it. This was the crux of
the end of the Americas with trusty ‘Dunlop’ left firmly back
South American landmass - made me nervous. I felt slightly our entire expedition.
In the early stages of planning for Cabo Froward, I had
sought local advice from sailors and fishermen. They all warned
of the treacherous waters, and the team at Carlos III backed up these fears with confirmation of wind-torn cliffs and rough
seas. But later that night the forecast of our dreams pinged through on the sat phone:
High cloud. Wind speed: Zero. The race was on!
donated by the French yacht, we enjoyed a luxurious lunch at in the kayaks. Ahead of us were two days of gentle paddling, winding down and reflecting on the completion of another epic journey together. The many miles of rain and wind, the spectacles of ice, the constant surprise of wildlife, and the
laughs shared in the shadows of mountains all merged into
a sense of deep satisfaction. The sure sign of a successful trip, though, is the rising thought of a single question at the end: What’s next?
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IN SEARCH OF TAMAZIGHT A sol o running ex ped i t i on a c ross M orocco’s Hi g h At l a s Story | Jenny Tough
Photography | Callum Stuart
Ultra runner Jenny Tough ran across the Moroccan High Atlas as part of her project to run through every mountain range on Earth.
The 860km run from Talsint to Agadir took 22 days, using the old Berber trail networks across North Africa’s greatest mountain range.
‘U
p there? Why would you want to go up there? There’s
kindest people I’ve met anywhere in the world. Every day I’m
that forms in the central square of the small village, smoking
communities. It’s humbling, and I’m pretty certain I couldn’t
nothing there.’ The friendly crowd of gossiping old men
cigarettes and keeping an eye on things, thinks I’m crazy. To them, heading up into the mountains rather than running
along the smooth gravel road leading to the next town defies all logic.
shown incredible generosity and welcomed into their small
be doing this without their unwavering hospitality. Their remarkable knack for finding hidden water sources in the seemingly barren terrain is also incredibly useful.
Now I’m eight days into my expedition. I started my
‘There are no shops, no phone signal. You will find nothing!’
challenge at the eastern edge of the range closest to the
‘But that’s exactly why I want to go up there’ I reply.
arid plains of the Sahara. I’m beginning to leave that desert
one of the men interjects, his face riddled with concern.
Morocco is a well-known tourist destination. But that’s
not the Morocco I wanted to explore. Cutting right through the heart of the country are the Atlas Mountains, dividing the
Mediterranean coast from the endless sands of the Sahara to the
south. These mountains are beautiful, isolated, and frequently
inhospitable. Survival alone can be a challenge. Running across the entire range in a single expedition had never previously been attempted, and probably for good reason.
Algerian border, where rocky peaks rise dramatically from the
ecosystem behind as I near the alpine peaks of the central Atlas. The slightly more hospitable landscape - mainly the presence
of above-ground water and even occasional shade from trees - urges me onward. I’m planning on taking my route as high
as possible, eventually leaving the red earth of the mountain
valleys to pit myself against the higher peaks that form the roof of North Africa.
The Berber locals, however, see no purpose in my quest.
By contrast to the formidable mountains they live in,
Where I perceive a challenge, they see only danger. Whilst every
language, which literally means ‘free people’ - are amongst the
hospitality, they are also unanimously opposed to my mountain
the Berbers - who call themselves Tamazight in their own
34
community I’ve run through so far has shown me outstanding
The trail is phenomenal, snaking deeper into the mountains along a precipitous ravine. I spring down ripples and along ridges, dodging boulders with my poles running mission. I feel as if I have to be rude to finally make
no one could understand why I wanted to come up here. I also
nothing out there that they actually try to persuade me to stop,
in the Scottish mountains would be packed with hikers and
my exit; the gossiping group of men are so insistent that there is abandon my plans, and wait for the bus that comes on Tuesdays to take me back to civilisation. They are visibly worried when I
can’t believe I have it to myself. A trail this good back home trail enthusiasts.
The Berber people live in the Atlas as a result of a difficult,
finally begin running out of their small town, straight towards
ancient history. Their ancestors were forced to flee into the
alone through the mountains is a virtually unimaginable event,
7th Century AD, led by the warrior General Uqba ibn Nafi
the rising hills ahead of me. In their culture, a woman running so I can understand their concern.
After a steep climb and some wandering around on the
mountains when the first Mohammedan Arabs arrived in the during the Arab conquest of the Maghreb region.
It seems that the Berbers haven’t learned to love these
edges of a spiny ridge, I find a narrow shepherd’s trail. It’s
mountains yet, seeing only inhospitable terrain where I see the
my feet. The trail is phenomenal, snaking deeper into the
with the joy of pure isolation. Being a woman travelling alone
so faint and thin that I don’t see it until it’s almost under
mountains along a precipitous ravine. I run gleefully along, springing down ripples and around ridges on the mountain’s
side, dodging boulders with my poles. It’s bliss. I can’t believe
potential for running and freedom. Soon, though, I’m filled in North Africa can be an exhausting and, at times, frightening
experience. I’m grateful for the silence and emptiness of the mountains.
PREVIOUS PAGES: Jenny hits an old Berber trail high above Imlil, one of the larger villages in the central High Atlas. FACING PAGE: Looking towards the High Atlas and the next village on Jenny’s route. THIS PAGE: Jenny contemplates the trail ahead near M’Goun.
35
With little chance of seeing anyone else, I can take my long-
gauntlet between water sources, never sure how long exactly
I wouldn’t be seen running in my sports bra even in a Western
compounding, and the sight of a decent water source like this
sleeved shirt off and run a little cooler for a while. In all honesty, country. The mountains don’t care if you’re male or female, religious or an atheist, dressed in the latest gear or not dressed at
I might have to ration for. Eight days in, my dehydration is one lifts my spirits immeasurably.
I sprint down the scree slope, taking the most direct route
all. Yet it saddens me that the people living below this particular
to the water source, desperate for the cooling effect and the
From the top of the pass, I can take in the view in all directions.
to make switchbacks to control my speed. I’m practically giddy
mountain have yet to experience the freedom I am relishing.
With no decent maps of this wild terrain, I am often navigating
the old-fashioned way by simply looking at the landscape ahead of me and picking the best line. The Atlas lend themselves
easily to this practice. There are seemingly endless clear skies, and the dry, red, rocky hills allow their hidden goat tracks to be easily seen from a higher elevation. I’m almost not bothering to
chance to drink without rationing. The slope is steep, and I have
as I slide over cascading rocks, sometimes losing my footing
and putting a hand down behind me, but never stopping. It reminds me of why I love running in the mountains, and by the time I reach the small river I have a huge grin on my face as well as a layer of dirt that covers my whole body.
I pick my way through the line of trees that had been my
look at the GPS, and instead stay on a compass bearing heading
target, and soon they part to reveal the river. It is, without
each climb.
in the world. Only a few metres across and barely knee-deep,
west, simply following the trails that I spot from the top of Ahead of me in the valley below is the most important
thing I’m looking for: a speck of lush, bright green vegetation. Green means trees, and trees mean water. The eastern Atlas
are largely desert mountains, and I am frequently running the
exaggeration, the most beautiful river I’ve ever seen anywhere
it’s the largest amount of water I’ve encountered since I started
my run. The river is crystal clear, and gurgles gently over pebbles of pale limestone. I practically toss off my backpack and shoes behind me as I sprint for it.
THIS PAGE: A village at the eastern end of the High Atlas clustered around an oasis in the desert.
36
After eight days of feeling dehydrated and overheated,
But after a while I hoist my backpack and cinch the straps
I’ve been craving a river like this so strongly that I’m genuinely
around my bruised hip and blistered shoulders. I wade through
cold, clear stream. They are red and swollen, suffering from the
goodbye to my river sanctuary and head into civilisation.
worried it may be a mirage. I stare down at my bare feet in the
extra weight of my ten kilo backpack, and now more than a week of running daily marathons over the mountains. Blisters have already been popped, and hard skin is forming. Some blisters have already grown so large they are running into each
other, creating super-blisters. Blood trickles down my ankle from loose rocks on the scree descent, but the child-like fun of
surfing that avalanche of rocks was worth it. I try to wash the
the shallow stream before putting my shoes on, and finally say
The river is crystal clear, gurgling gently over pebbles of pale limestone. I sprint for it, but it might be a mirage
small cuts on my feet and ankles in the stream. The cold water soothes my swollen feet, and already the redness on my toes is
dissipating and the pulsing is slowing. I fill my water bottle and
That the Berber people continue to thrive out here
pop a purification tablet in; it takes an hour before the water
impresses me even more each day I struggle across their terrain.
After a long, lazy sojourn by the cooling sanctuary of
in big or small ways. In my solo run across the land of the
is safe to drink.
the river, I reluctantly begin gathering my things to continue
into the small town that flanks the opposite shore. Mentally,
I begin preparing myself for what I know is ahead: more locals
telling me not to continue my pointless and dangerous run into
nowhere. As in every village before, they will implore me to abandon my expedition, stay away from the mountains, and tempt me to join them with endless pots of sweet mint tea.
I’ll always be grateful for the generosity they’ve shown me, free people, between the ancient mountains and the culture
of contemporary Morocco, I had a chance to ponder what freedom truly means. Mountains will always be a sanctuary for
anyone who needs them, as they were for the Tamazight all those generations ago. Passing through their territory on my
two feet, taking the hard route through the highest terrain, was a truly unforgettable experience.
37
SOUL IN THE GAME Le o Houlding & t he a r t of mod er n expl ora t i on Profile | David Pickford
Leo Houlding is one of Britain’s most innovative modern explorers. He began his career in the 1990s, where he was quickly recognised as one of the best rock climbers in the UK, before he exported his talents to the big granite walls of Yosemite Valley in California - the
greatest climbing arena in the world. A few years later, Leo began BASE jumping, using a wingsuit to descend from big wall climbs in an experimental style known as para-alpinism. After major expeditions to Baffin Island and the tepuis of Guyana, he has recently moved into Antarctic exploration. In 2012, he pioneered the first ascent of the north east ridge of Ulvetanna in Queen Maud Land, and more recently
made an even more ambitious journey to climb one of the world’s most remote peaks, the Spectre in the Transantarctic mountains - featured
on the front cover of this issue - by kite skiing over 1000 miles there and back in a completely new style of polar expedition. I spoke with Leo in the spring of 2019 about his extraordinary life and climbs, the landscape of risk, and to find out what adventure means to him.
L
eo strides into my kitchen overflowing with energy. It’s a couple of years since we last met; I notice how his face
is lined from the sun and icy wind of Antarctica. I point out
that he seems older and wiser, and laughter erupts between
By his teens, Leo was climbing some of the hardest and
boldest rock climbs in the UK. At what moment, I wonder, did he realise he had a special talent?
‘One of the key routes was a climb called The Torture
us. As I put the coffee on, I ask him about his formative years
Board at Reecastle crag in Borrowdale. There’s a picture of it
‘As a nine year old, I remember saying to my dad how
difficult to me. I did it when I was about 15. I remember I just
climbing in the Lake District and North Wales as a teenager: much I wanted to go climbing. As a young kid I always used
to scramble, but there was no roped climbing. Then one of
in the old Borrowdale guidebook, and it seemed unimaginably thought holy shit, I did it.’
In 1997, Leo climbed a route called Master’s Wall on a
my dad’s friends finally took us climbing at a small crag in the
high mountain crag in North Wales. It was a special ascent
knew I wanted to climb more.’
It’s still regarded as one of the most impressive ascents ever
Lake District. I strongly remember the first route I did; I just I point out that adventurous climbing has always attracted
free spirits and wild characters. Was the legendary counterculture in British climbing in the 1990s a strong influence?
‘In the early days, climbing was totally about self
expression, just having adventures in wild places. And
because he climbed it onsight, without any prior knowledge.
achieved in this style in British rock climbing; a fall from the hardest section of this route would mean serious injury
or death. What kind of headspace, I wondered, enabled him to make this ascent?
‘I think Master’s Wall was important. I’d had a really good
different ways of living were a big part of it. The life of
summer, I did quite a lot of free soloing [climbing unroped]
Cundy was a key influential character. He was a carpenter
the experience itself was terrible, I thought I was going to die.’
climbing, rather than the sport, you could say. Malcolm ‘Pike’
based in the Pennines, but he was a climber first and foremost. He was part of the Snell’s Field crew of British climbers who
went to Chamonix every summer back in the 1980s. His
influence was strong. Perhaps because he never had a son
in North Wales, and I was in the zone for bold climbing. But And didn’t you do it in a borrowed pair of rock shoes that
were a couple of sizes too big?
he sort of treated me like one. For a few years, every other
weekend he took me climbing and showed me the ropes. He
was a mentor and a great guy. His stories were fantastic, and I loved his eccentricity.’
FACING PAGE: Leo Houlding on the last day of his Spectre expedition in the 2017-18 season after spending 52 days kite skiing across Antarctica. MARK SEDON
39
‘Yeah, I did. My own shoes were completely worn out, with
‘Yes, in terms of the possibilities for climbing new routes
holes in the toes, so I’d borrowed another pair. I was totally at the
particularly. El Niño back then was only the 4th or 5th free route
really serious accident - something even worse than my accident
my eyes were opened to the huge walls of Yosemite, I didn’t have
limit on that route. I think it was the closest I’ve ever come to a
in Patagonia in 2002. I remember going up and down, then committing to a sequence and getting to a positive hand-hold
on the whole of El Cap. You could see the potential. As soon as quite the same motivation for British climbing.’
Leo signed a sponsorship deal with Berghaus at a young age.
that was wet, and the next bit was miles harder than I thought.
What effect did that have on his climbing life?
what I was thinking. But I was sixteen and bold as love. I don’t
a very small retainer - much less than anyone could actually
I couldn’t wait to get rescued, so I just carried on. I don’t know think I’ve ever put myself in such a risky position since.’
‘I signed with Berghaus at the end of 1997. It was initially
live on. So you couldn’t really call it professional climbing. But
when you’re used to living as a dirtbag, as I was, it certainly helped. It’s what enabled me to go to Yosemite. 1998 was a
The accident on Cerro Torre in 2002 taught me that when you go into the mountains, you need to know what to do in a disaster scenario
bumper year, thanks to El Niño, then the next year was really
good too. But there’s no way I would have done it without the support from Berghaus. It was crucial.’
In 2002, Leo had a bad accident in Patagonia, smashing
his talus bone in a big fall on Cerro Torre whilst attempting
a hard unclimbed route. How did that experience affect him? ‘I’d spent seven seasons in Yosemite then went to
We talk about the recent shift towards athletic
Patagonia for the first time. I was climbing really well, but
and teetotalism have replaced the sex, drugs and rock ‘n’
factors come into play. I was treating an alpine environment
performance in climbing over adventure, about how training roll that British climbing was once famous for. Is he glad he experienced that more anarchic era?
‘Absolutely. Climbing has changed so much in recent
years. You could possibly draw a parallel between climbing and dance music; where once it was grungy and loose, now
it’s this highly manufactured and refined product. And in a way climbing has gone through a similar thing, where it’s now
become this indoor fitness activity for a lot of people. The wildness hasn’t gone from climbing, but there’s just less of
I hadn’t factored in the alpine arena, where all these other like a low-altitude crag environment. Which was a big mistake. That accident taught me that when you go into the
mountains you need to know what to do in a disaster scenario.
Soon after the accident, I realised I had been pushing way too hard. It was a kind of coming-of-age moment. At the time
it seemed like the worst thing ever: crushing the talus bone
is a bad thing to happen; I was non weight-bearing for six months, and thought I’d lost the life I’d dreamed of.’
Leo takes a deep breath and looks up for a moment, as if
it as a proportion of the whole activity. I’m not against this
contemplating a complex line on a massive cliff.
young climbers in Europe and elsewhere.’
reasons. Firstly, because I was lucky, and learned a lot from
when he made the second ascent of the cutting edge route
period, the woman who would become my wife. And thirdly,
change though. It’s just amazing what’s being done now by I ask Leo about his first ever trip to Yosemite in 1998,
El Niño with Patch Hammond. To what extent was that a watershed moment in his life? Leo’s eyes light up.
‘It was a revelation. The summer of 1998 wasn’t such a great
summer in North Wales, so Patch and I went to Yosemite where we intended to hunt out bold single pitch routes like those we’d been climbing in the UK. Then I saw El Capitan for the first
time, and it was just so much more impressive than anything
‘But looking back, the accident was very positive for three
the experience itself. Secondly, because I met Jessica in that because I bought my first house shortly afterwards with a
huge mortgage. I wouldn’t have done any of these things had
it not been for the accident. So as a direct result of that fall on Cerro Torre, I met my wife and made a great investment that really set me up for life. Accidents are such clear pivotal moments, in a way.’
Our conversation shifts a gear, and we start talking
I’d seen before by orders of magnitude. I was overwhelmed by
about expedition planning. Leo has become highly skilled
with a bunch of influential people, the great Yosemite climbers
expeditions, such as his recent trip to the Spectre in the
the scale and majesty of it. Patch and I quickly made friends of that era. I think I climbed every single day we were there.
The Huber brothers [the famous German big wall climbers] convinced us that we should have a go at El Niño. And we did
it. I remember leaning against the summit tree when we got to the top, and thinking that my life had changed.’ So El Niño opened a door?
at organising logistically complex and very expensive
Transantarctic mountains. How has he met the organisational demands of such trips?
‘On the logistics and detail stuff I’ve largely learnt along
the way. One person who has helped a lot with the project
management side of things is Bruce Corrie, a friend of mine who’s a kite skier and chartered accountant. The highly
FACING PAGE: Leo during his ascent of the Spectre (2020m) in the Gothic peaks at the southern end of the Transantarctic Mountains. Climbing a steep, technical peak at 86˚South - just 500km from the South Pole - presents serious climatic challenges and the very highest level of commitment. The poor weather Leo experienced on the climb led him to observe: ‘I was more strung out [up there] than I’ve ever felt in my life’. The Spectre is one of the world’s most remote mountains. MARK SEDON
40
analytical and calculated approach he uses is very useful for
‘It has been a conscious decision to maintain integrity
complex expeditions. You will fail on a complex expedition if
whilst making a living. Because I’ve been involved with
A few years ago, when Leo and I were discussing
that’s valuable to them. So I’ve just done my own thing; I’m
you don’t do all your groundwork.’
professionalism in climbing and mountaineering, I strongly remember him remarking that ‘nobody is ever paid just to
climb’. I tell him it seems like a pretty revealing insight about sponsorship in sport in general.
‘I think now this whole thing is possibly changing with
climbing becoming an Olympic sport and the surge in
Berghaus for so long, they trust me to deliver material really lucky though. Seeing how professional people like the
Huber brothers were was influential. They understood the importance of that process of producing high value assets from a big climb in the form of excellent photos and film footage. They showed me that it’s all part of the game.’
Whilst we’re talking of authenticity, I’m curious to hear
professional competition climbing. But what I figured out
Leo’s view on the influence of social media on adventure sports.
just because they are a good climber. There was a guy called
social media game. Perhaps it’s because I’m quite an honest
in the late 1990s. And he couldn’t even get a free pair of
such as strong opinions. In the context of adventure, social
early on is that no sponsor is interested in paying someone Neil Carson who was probably the best climber in Britain
rock shoes! In professional organised sport, there’s enough
money to pay for a manager, coach, and agent, and they can
‘Well, you can’t fight the tide. But I’m terrible at the whole
person, and some things are best not shared on social media, media lends itself to the mediocre and the middle ground.’
Patagonia founder Yvon Chouinard writes critically in
monetise what you do. But climbing isn’t quite big enough
his book Let My People Go Surfing of corporate sponsorship
How difficult is it, I ask, to maintain authenticity whilst
Patagonia still sponsors adventure athletes, so it’s clearly still
to do that yet.’
simultaneously satisfying the requirements of sponsorship?
in what he calls ‘soul sports’ like climbing and surfing. Yet worth something to them. What’s Leo’s view on all this?
41
‘There’s no way I would have led the life I have without
corporate sponsorship. And I’ve made more money from TV
jumping fatalities, I wonder, or are there other factors?
‘Okay, so this is a very complicated issue.’ Leo explains.
work than from sponsorship, but it’s the foundational income
‘One of the things to note with wingsuit proximity flying is
the life I have lived. But maintaining integrity whilst providing
video of someone BASE jumping you can be flying down
that Berghaus has provided that’s been the basis of me leading results for a big corporation is a constant challenge.’
Leo started BASE jumping in the mid-2000s and
quickly began using it as a method to descend from big walls.
He and Tim Emmett watched a fellow BASE jumper, Duane
Thomas, hit the ground at high speed and die on impact
in Switzerland shortly after they began jumping. How did witnessing Duane’s death affect him at the time?
‘It affected me and Tim heavily. It was awful. It was
actually on the very first BASE jumping trip for Tim and I.
Duane’s wife was with us, which made things much worse.
It was just horrendous. There’s no glory in death, it’s just a mess. It helped me and Tim stay alive, though, because we walked
away and thought ‘this isn’t that cool’. It helped us to stay safe and not push too hard. But the itch to jump didn’t go away.’
that it’s remarkably easy. In a year after watching a YouTube something crazy. The really good guys are flying at a high level of control and able to deal with unexpected things like
turbulence, of course. Most other adventure sports take years or decades to get to a high level. Climbing, for example, is very
hard and requires real intelligence to get to an elite level. So there’s a crucial personality type issue here. The people who
are attracted to BASE jumping are attracted to the danger and to adrenaline. So they’re not usually safety conscious. By
sticking to certain rules you can BASE jump in relative safety, but for thrill-seeking people where’s the fun in that?’
Veteran British mountaineer Doug Scott has said that a good
climber is one who’s still alive. Surely the same could be said of BASE jumpers. Is there a certain sixth sense that’s kept Leo safe?
‘A friend of mine, Dougs McDonnell, is perhaps the
I suggest that the danger-versus-experience correlation in
world’s most experienced BASE jumper. He’s done thousands
better at it, and it becomes exponentially more dangerous as
before jumping! That instinctive sense of danger has kept him
BASE jumping and wingsuit flying seems unusual: you get you fly faster and closer to objects. That’s not true of most other adventure sports, which get less risky as you build experience.
Is this the reason for the very high percentage of BASE
and thousands of BASE jumps. But he still gets nervous alive, because the more dangerous the activity the more safety
conscious you have to be. And I always remember my friend
Shaun Ellison’s mantra [Shaun taught Leo to BASE jump]:
THIS PAGE: The Antarctic icecap is the size of the USA and Mexico combined with an average elevation of 3000m. It is also home to 90% of the world’s fresh water. It is a hostile, lifeless environment. On the first day of the Spectre expedition, 200 km from the South Pole, the team were hit by a storm with windchill temperatures of -73˚C. In this environment, the correct equipment (and the skills to use it) is vital for survival. MARK SEDON
42
If in doubt, do not jump.’
Leo is the now the father of two young children. In what
ways has fatherhood changed his approach to risk?
‘I’d have to say it has changed my approach to a degree,
but at the same time I’ve never had a death wish. I got married in 2005, and once you get married it’s not just about your own
In the context of adventure, social media lends itself to the mediocre and the middle ground
life anymore. I’ve always been conscious of Jessica throughout
the high risk stuff. And with kids it does change the dynamic,
But does Leo miss the rush of BASE jumping?
because you have dependants as well.’
Leo’s good friend and climbing partner Sean Leary was
‘Yeah, I do. But not as much as I used to miss it. You don’t
killed wingsuit flying in Zion in 2014. What affect did Sean’s
get that same rush from climbing. Climbing’s so much slower,
‘I did my last BASE jump when Jessica was eight months
gravity-aided sports like BASE jumping, skiing, downhill
death have on Leo’s desire to BASE jump?
pregnant with our daughter, and I had originally intended to carry on BASE jumping after we’d had kids. But when Sean
died, his girlfriend was eight months pregnant with their first child.’
so much more drawn out. In a sense it’s the opposite of fast, mountain biking, or whatever.’
In 2014, Leo had an unusual near-death experience. I ask
him about Malaysia Airlines flight MH17.
‘In July 2014, I went to Borneo to make two TV shows
‘And it changed my view. I had spoken to him about
for Discovery Channel. In one of them, we were to climb a
being a father. I tried to explain to him that the unconditional
eleventh hour, and I got a later flight than planned. Then,
two weeks before he died, and he was apprehensive about
love you have for children is incredibly powerful. But he pushed extremely hard, and he screwed up. I spoke to Tim
Emmett just after Sean died and Tim just said ‘I’m gonna quit
BASE jumping’. And that said something to me. I couldn’t imagine saying goodbye to my wife anymore when she knew how dangerous it is. I realised that when you become a parent you have a duty of care, so you’ve got to rein it in a bit. But
big overhanging limestone wall. Our schedule changed at the
as I was on my way out I found out that MH17 had been shot down by Russian separatists on 17th July while flying over eastern Ukraine. I’d had a ticket booked on that flight.
It really affected me, and in a way it really re-invigorated me to keep doing what I’m doing. Any of us could die tomorrow. In a strange way it got me psyched again.’
Leo and Jessica got married fourteen years ago. How
you can’t cease to be the person you are. So you’ve got to find a
important has Jessica been in his life?
and aspirations.’
a huge part of your life, particularly when kids come along.
balance between that duty of care and living your own dreams
‘She’s been extremely important. Your life partner is such
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Don’t do something because somebody else thinks it’s cool, or because somebody tells you that you should do it - Leo Houlding
THIS PAGE: Jean Burgun kite skiing into the Transantarctic mountains, the most remote mountain range on Earth, pulling a load of 200 kilos with supplies for 65 days. The three man Spectre team were the first unsupported expedition ever to climb in the range, which is four times the size of the European Alps. Shortly after this photo was taken, Leo Houlding’s pulk fell through a snow bridge into a crevasse, and started pulling him towards the abyss. Thankfully it jammed before he went in, and the team were able to retrieve the undamaged load and continue towards the Spectre. MARK SEDON
We would have never been together if she hadn’t accepted
The Prophet. Was that a conscious choice or a natural process?
and perhaps I would have pushed harder with BASE jumping
big walls. The climbing remains central and it gives a sense
be sitting here now having this conversation if it hadn’t been
part of the process, the climb still remains the objective.
my life as a climber. She’s kept me tied to the UK in a way too, without her. If I’m being really honest, perhaps I wouldn’t for her.’
‘I think the motivation was fundamentally still climbing
of purpose. Even with BASE jumping or kite skiing as
Climbing involves large amounts of uncertainty. And uncertainty and risk are central to adventure. The outcome cannot be known beforehand. If the outcome is known, it’s
Uncertainty and risk are central to adventure. The outcome cannot be known beforehand. If the outcome is known, it’s not an adventure
not an adventure.’
Our conversation moves to Antarctica. The Ulvetanna
expedition to Queen Maud Land was Leo’s first trip in 2012. He then went back again in 2017 on an even more ambitious journey. What, I ask him, is so captivating about the great southern continent?
‘It’s got this unique allure. There’s something about it. In
Leo made a move into adventure documentary filmmaking
a romantic way, it epitomises adventure. Humans never made
film of his expedition to climb a new route on Mount Asgard
emptiness, the desolate nature of the place. The reality of being
in 2009. Firstly he produced (and starred in) Alastair Lee’s
in Baffin Island. He then went on to make another two feature-length expedition films with Alastair: Autana and Ulvetanna. I ask him if The Asgard Project - the 2009 trip and subsequent film - was an important transitional moment.
‘Yes it was. It was the first proper big expedition I ever
organised, somewhere really remote with a major objective,
and in order to make a high production value film of the expedition. Asgard marked my transition away from pure rock climbing towards bigger objectives and real exploration.’
We start talking about how exploration has changed in
the last hundred years, and Leo suddenly makes what strikes me as a profound and intriguing observation.
‘20th Century exploration was very much about filling in
blanks on the map, and about conquest, about being the first. Now it’s got nothing to do with conquest. It’s more about finding new dimensions in wild landscapes, and about using
it there. It remains the ultimate terra incognita. It’s the sheer there is different though. You have to be cautious because just being there in itself is dangerous. You have to take two satellite
phones to make a daily call to your logistics provider to let them
know that you’re okay. If you miss a call they put you on high alert, and if you miss two calls they initiate a rescue. Satellite
communications have changed the nature of adventure in very remote places. I wouldn’t go into a really remote place now without proper communications equipment.
What is it about Antarctica, I wonder, that gives it such
centrality in the British exploratory imagination. Is it partly the stories of Scott’s and Shackleton’s ill-fated expeditions?
Leo pauses for a moment. ‘We grew up with those
stories of Scott and Shackleton, of course, but I think there’s something about the extreme landscape of Antarctica itself that has a powerful allure.’
I ask Leo if he can summarise what self-supported travel
modern technology to explore the world in interesting ways.’
and climbing in Antarctica is like, in contrast to other places.
Prophet in 2010, after a nine year journey from his first
it isn’t that different to Baffin Island or Greenland in some
particular route felt like a high point in his career as a rock
and there’s no wind you can actually climb without gloves.
Leo made the first ascent of his Yosemite climb The
attempt on the climb in 2001. I ask him if completing that climber.
‘Yes, in one way it did. It also felt like I’d closed a
chapter in my life. Life is about priorities. We all have them. But you can only prioritise so much. I realised that
to climb something harder than The Prophet I’d have to take
a different approach. I knew that I could probably never
‘It’s mainly the cold and the extreme remoteness. But
ways. The main difference is the expense! When it’s sunny
But when the wind picks up it’s instantly sub-zero. The windchill is just so extreme.’
Leo started training to kite ski in 2011 in Greenland and
Norway. Did he initially take up kite skiing with the notion of doing a big Antarctic trip?
‘Yes. The idea was that it could be a tool for long distance
perform better than I did when I sent the crux pitch of The
travel in cold regions. As with using BASE jumping to descend
storm on our portaledge.’
few places where it actually works: Norway, Greenland and
Prophet after Jason Pickles and I waited out that three day Leo’s focus shifted from adventure rock climbs into
multi-disciplinary expeditions at the same time as he climbed
from big walls, it’s a simple concept but there are relatively Antarctica mainly. You need vast, fairly flat icy spaces and constant wind.’
FACING PAGE: Leo Houlding climbing the crux pitch [the most difficult section] of his 2010 new route The Prophet on El Capitan in Yosemite Valley, California. The climb is one of the most demanding big wall routes in Yosemite. Leo first attempted to climb the route in 2001, in an extremely audacious style known as ‘ground-up’ where the climb is not inspected by abseil beforehand. He finally completed the route in 2010, after he and his partner Jason Pickles were forced to wait out a three day storm on their portaledge [a hanging tent platform where they slept, visible in the image below the climber]. This ascent was a highlight of Leo’s climbing career - a world class new route on the greatest cliff in the world. ALASTAIR LEE
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FACING PAGE: The team camping in high winds and poor visibility en route to the Spectre in the Transantarctic mountains. Leo Houlding, Jean Burgun and Mark Sedon travelled over 1000 miles across Antarctica via kite-skiing in the 2017-18 season to reach the mountain and return in a completely new style of polar expedition. MARK SEDON THIS PAGE UPPER: Mark Sedon on the summit ridge of the Spectre, one of the world’s most remote mountains, during the ascent on Leo Houlding’s 2017-18 expedition. The weather began to deteriorate during the climb, leading Houlding to remark that ‘I was more strung out up there than I’ve ever felt in my life’. LEO HOULDING THIS PAGE LOWER: Jean Burgun sorting out his kite as he sets off from camp in high winds during the approach to the Spectre. The team coined the phrase ‘kite-mare’ to describe what happens when the lines of the kite become tangled in such situations. MARK SEDON
49
The Spectre trip was a success. Leo and his team kite
I ask him about the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to
skied into the Spectre massif and made the second ascent of
him on an expedition. He smiles and chuckles back:
pioneered a new format for a polar expedition was the most
hallucinogen similar to Ayahuasca] in Venezuela. It was just
from the mountain looked harder than the climb itself.
intense experience of my life.’
the Spectre itself. I tell Leo it strikes me that the fact they important thing about the trip, and that kiting into and away
‘Yeah it was, it was a thousand miles of kite skiing in
‘It was definitely taking Yopo [an extremely potent
so full on. It was, in fact, the most terrifyingly powerful and
total. We actually only climbed for two days, there were ten days of bad weather, then about thirty travelling days, then
ten days in which we couldn’t travel due to bad weather or lack of wind. If we’d climbed the big central pillar of the Spectre it would have meant more to me. But the price of ambition is that you’re never properly satisfied.’
The Spectre is one of the most remote places on Earth. I was more strung out up there than I’ve ever felt in my life
The weather got pretty bad shortly after Leo’s team got
back to base camp after the climb. Since the Spectre is one
of the most remote places on earth, how strung out did Leo felt on the climb, with the bad weather approaching fast?
He laughs.
‘More strung out than I’ve ever felt in my life! If the
Some people say their Ayahuasca experiences make them
stronger. I ask Leo if he felt it strengthened him. ‘Yeah. I think it made me a better man.’
I ask Leo what he feels has been his biggest mistake in
weather had stayed fine it would have been alright. But when
twenty five years of climbing, adventuring, and exploring.
The forecast on our summit day was wrong, and that was
‘Not bringing a portaledge with an expedition flysheet
the weather’s bad in Antarctica it’s a full-on survival situation. a problem.’
One of the key features of Leo’s career has been
creative diversification into multi-disciplinary expeditions;
He suddenly laughs and cuts straight back:
to the Spectre, because then we could have actually tried to climb the big central pillar.’
What advice would he give to aspiring young adventurers
combining climbing with BASE jumping and kite skiing to
in the early 21st Century?
he explain why this approach is important?
don’t do anything because somebody else thinks it’s cool, or
create an adventure that’s more than the sum of its parts. Can ‘There’s nothing wrong with chasing records, but I think
it’s important to use the new tools and knowledge that we now
have to do something that’s not been done before. With modern technology you can do amazing stuff that’s completely new.’
I mention how Robert Jasper recently sea kayaked into a
remote fjord in Greenland to make a solo first ascent. Is Leo is tempted to approach a big climb on the water, by kayak or some other craft?
‘Definitely. I’ve got a folding sea kayak. But the trouble
‘Take it one step at a time and follow your heart, and
because somebody tells you that you should do it.’
As we begin to wrap up the interview, I go back to Leo’s
roots, and ask about his favourite climbing areas in Britain and beyond.
‘In the UK, it’s North Wales for sure. It has such strong
memories for me, and a huge diversity of climbing within a small area. Elsewhere, Yosemite in general is just so good.’ Finally, what luxury would he take to a desert island?
‘A really sweet bivvy set up. A good night’s sleep is so
with climbing is that you need so much stuff!’
important when you’re out there!’
the great British climber Joe Brown that ‘he always found new
to the next lecture in his UK tour promoting his film of the
and freshness in his life, decades after the initial discovery
realise we’ve been talking for almost four hours. Leo leaves an
The mountaineering journalist Ed Douglas once wrote of
directions to explore, and maintained that sense of excitement of what climbing could offer him’. For me personally, these
words are a brilliant mission statement for an adventurous life.
Leo hurries out the door as quickly as he arrived, en route
Spectre expedition. The coffee is long gone, and I suddenly aura of restless energy and ambition in the air.
An extraordinary drive to find new things and to do new
I tell Leo they could describe his approach pretty well too.
things defines the life of Britain’s most inventive modern
an exciting new direction in adventure to explore. Next time I
fierce intelligence and real curiosity behind it all, I think, that
‘Absolutely. That’s what the Spectre trip was about, finding
go there I’d like to kite all the way from Union Glacier to the Spectre, in and out. That would be the perfect way to do it.’
explorer. Yet beyond his achievements themselves, it’s the gives Leo Houlding such soul in the game.
How would Leo sum up his own philosophy of adventure? ‘True adventure has to involve true risk and true
uncertainty, and to have a creative element.’
FACING PAGE: Looking out across the vast emptiness of Antarctica on the flight towards the South Pole on the very first day of the Spectre expedition, Leo contemplates the epic scale of the forthcoming adventure. Now approaching 40, Leo has lived the life of a true explorer in the early 21st Century.
51
KEMPSTON HARDWICK The secret diary of B ed ford shi re’s g rea t est a d vent u rer
Summer 2019: Loving the Dream
I
t was to be the most life-affirming, rewarding adventure of my life. Oh, and also the simplest. Throw some clothing into
a backpack on the Friday afternoon and head out to a hill to
overnight as nature had intended, slumbering beneath a starfilled sky. Outdoor life is easy, isn’t it?
So I’ll need an axe. Or a knife. Yes, a nice, new, sharp one.
Maybe it should lock open. Is that legal? Maybe it’ll have one of
those big fuck-off spikes for prying stones from horses’ hooves. Two-click MacBook magic, and the internet delivers. Again.
Actually I’m really not sure I’ll see horses where I’m
But then my trusty backpack broke. Packed up. Kaput. Or at
planning to go, but PayPal has done the deal already and well,
prerequisite of a hiker’s stability. I reach for my MacBook
rabid foxes maybe? Rabies has always been a fear of mine. And
least the sternum strap did. Ah, sternum straps — the essential
and the unadulterated purification of soul delivered by a true wilderness immersion is saved — and with next day delivery
that spike could be good for something else — warding off badgers. They have tuberculosis, don’t they?
But anyway, I can’t eat with just a knife, especially if I’ve
at only £5.99, even though it’s four days until the weekend.
whittled a yew tree down for appropriately sized twigs. So
close the screen, but what’s that pop-up? Man, I love those pop-
offspring of an illicit spoon-fork liaison in an ex-Soviet storage
So at least I have a backpack again. The bivvy is back on. I nearly ups. It’s like they’ve got my back whatever I’m planning.
Wow, a wood stove that charges my USB device as it burns?
WTF! I don’t need that, really. Or do I? I was going to go with
that tiny minimalist stove I already have. You know, the one that
weighs less than a wren. Or is it a chaffinch? Whatever. But this one, it actually charges stuff, which means my phone will
never die, which means I can digitally capture the essence of the
bivvy moment for prosperity and Instagram likes. Because it’s my bivouac adventure. And that USB output means I can have
music all night long. Damn, now I’ve got Lionel Richie in my
head. I hate Lionel Richie. But you can’t spend a night in the wild without some sounds. That’d be dull. Jack Johnson instead? Better get on Spotify. I think I have a subscription.
And anyway the nice thing about that stove is that you don’t
need a gas canister. Kaboom! Eco-warrior stuff or what? Get in. Apparently the thing eats twigs, or burns them, or something like that. It converts them to heat and power output. So I’ve
simultaneously saved some grams and butterflies, or possibly
ospreys, by leaving the propane behind. Keep it in the ground, right? But twigs don’t just grow on trees, so I’ll have to find them. And when I do, I’ll have to chop them up. 52
I’ll need some cutlery, or at least a titanium spork; the bastard
facility. I like the way titanium catches the light. It’s subtle, not
bling. A bit like the decommissioned MIG jets that spawned it. My old billy-can is moulting carcinogenic Teflon like fur falling off a polar bear. But how about a collapsible silicon bowl? They do
a matching mug too. And some freeze-dried meals. Oh instant
apple crumble, where have you been all this time? Okay, I’ll get the mug at least. In lime green. That’ll look very good on Instagram with the titanium.
53
I ’ll take a microfibre towel for wild swimming, even if I’m not exactly sure what that is. Do I need trunks?
So where to go? The local hill isn’t sounding adventurous
enough, micro-adventure-compatible or not. And anyway it’s actually quite big, more of a little mountain than a hill. So I’ll
get a GPS, maybe a wristwatch one, and download some trails.
That’ll let me go further off the beaten track. Let me find myself. It is all about life-affirmation, and more remote guarantees
better affirmation. Add a 4200mAh power backup battery, just in case the stove burns and the USB output flatlines.
So I’m set. Just a couple more decisions to make. Bivvy
bag or tarp? Maybe both, then I can sit up in my bivvy under
the tarp. Who says the outdoors and comfort are incompatible. And synthetic or down sleeping bag? And how many seasons do I need? Just one, right? After all it’s just one night, not a
Kempston Hardwick is a keen-as-mustard adventurer and dad
definitely. And a microfibre towel for wild swimming, even if
His irrepressible readiness to embrace al fresco challenges has
October, not outdoors at least. Do I need trunks?
turn in life, whether bagging Munros or browsing the organic
inner self surfaces. After all, really wild people love people’s wild
the place where he was conceived, a local railway station near
YouTube channel for that. Or is it a Facebook group?
Dan Milner.
snow-hole hibernation. So, what else? Something Gore-Tex,
who defies his rapidly amassing years by seeking outdoor recreation.
I’m not exactly sure what that is. But then I’ve never swum in
bestowed him with worldly opinions which he applies to every
And of course, I best take a GoPro just in case my wild
frozen pizza aisle of Waitrose. It is believed he was named after
videos of people wild swimming. I think there’s even a dedicated
Milton Keynes. He is a good friend of the author of this column,
So I’d best pop in a couple of extra GoPro batteries. And a
chest-mount strap. And a selfie stick.
Okay. So now I’m all set. Just heave it all into the new ©
World’s Strongest Sternum Strap Backpack and get out there. Into the wild.
But Kate has just reminded me that she has pilates, and
Rose has a piano lesson on Saturday morning. And Luke has soccer practice at 2pm. Going to be tricky. Anyway, the Met
Office just posted a weather alert. Yellow I think. Or was it
indigo? Serious though. Definitely rain, or drizzle. And windy. So I’d best hold off. Until another day. The outside isn’t going anywhere, after all. Funny, the barometer on my new GPS isn’t showing an alert. Maybe it’s faulty; maybe I’ll send it back. 54
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T H E BA S E I N T ERV I EW Ke p a Acero t a l k s t o C hris Hun t Photography | Kepa Acero collection
We try to find a passion, and we try to survive - Kepa Acero
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The romance of exploration is seldom more contagious than when Basque surfer Kepa Acero is at the helm. A decade ago, his exploratory
YouTube shorts began to take off in the surfing world, and in contrast to the performance-oriented competitive world circuit, the youthful excitement for adventure conveyed in the films was a refreshing change. Despite years of solitary wave riding on a global scale, in 2017 an awkward fall on a shallow sandbar at Mundaka, close to home in northern Spain, saw him fighting for his life. The rehabilitation that
followed forced him to grapple with some of the core questions of existence: what does it mean to lead a good life, and how can we achieve that? I caught up with Kepa as he was packing for a last-minute trip to Algeria to talk about wave riding, the adventurous life, and how to best use our time on Earth.
A while back you made a big decision to step away from the
Since then, your surfing career has centred around
Well, there were a lot of things going on in my head at that
about your travel philosophy.
competition circuit. What fuelled that move initially?
time. I was competing in the WQS [World Qualifying Series] which was a privilege, because I was getting paid for surfing.
But I never had the spirit to fight with all those kids in the water. The standard of international professional surfing is really high, and everyone really badly wants to make the
cut for the WCT [World Championship Tour]. I was going everywhere, but not enjoying the places I was staying. As a rich white person, you try to live as simply as possible in poorer
countries, but I felt a lot of conflict about this and it made me think.
documenting exploration and adventure. Tell me a bit The first time I travelled solo was the best experience I ever
had. I was really scared when I stepped on the plane, and also
when I realised I was completely alone out there. But you meet people when you travel, and in the end you can create a family everywhere you go. We come to this world to love and be loved, and to learn from our mistakes. We try to find a passion, and we
try to survive. Through that process, we have to say goodbye to
people that we’re never going to see again. For me, what’s really important is the process you use to reach your goals. I want to end up as an old man proud of what I did in my life.
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I think it’s fair to say that surfing, for you, is about
adventurous travel as much as it is about the waves, which probably separates you from much of the professional
surfing world. How do those two things sit side by side?
I love every little detail about surfing, from the observation
of the ocean to the specific speed of each wave. If it wasn’t for
I love every little detail about surfing, from the observation of the ocean to the specific speed of each wave
my passion for surfing, I wouldn’t have had the push to go
to some of the places I’ve been. But the human aspect of my travels has been vital; the people you meet are often the part of the trip which really changes you as a person.
Is that why travelling solo is so important to you?
Travelling alone is all about knowledge and understanding
travelling. Uncertainty is the true essence of adventure. But technology is advancing so fast, sometimes I wonder if we’ll
be the last generation to have that opportunity, to experience going to places without knowing what’s going to happen.
yourself. You need to make decisions fast, to make the right
In 2017 you broke your neck at Mundaka. Looking back,
develop an instinct for who to trust and the right people to
It’s weird. All the experiences I had before the accident
ones, and to learn from your mistakes. I think you also be with. You get to truly understand freedom, but sometimes loneliness is the price you pay for doing so.
Is it sometimes hard to find people who share your exploratory approach to surfing?
I love to travel with good friends who are ready to do
anything to find a place so idyllic. Natxo [Gonzalez] and Aritz [Aranburu] are exactly those kinds of people. Also my
friend Dane Gudauskas who has been my partner on a few African expeditions. You need really passionate people, who
are mentally very strong, and who have a romantic sense of
surfing. Aritz is the kind of person who would be priceless
in the military. He is physically and mentally an animal, and therefore the perfect addition to an adventure.
how do you think that experience affected your outlook?
made me a more complete person. But they also meant full
commitment to searching for and surfing dangerous waves. You calculate the risks and weigh up the reward, and you do it. But looking back, I think sometimes the risk was
too high, but fortunately nothing ever happened to me. Paradoxically, on January 2nd 2017, when I was surfing
Mundaka at home with friends, I caught a wave just like
thousands of others I’ve taken there in my life. But I fell and hit my head on a sandbar, and the lights switched off. I don’t remember anything after that. I heard that some friends rescued me from the white water and saved my life. At the
hospital, they told me I’d broken three sections of my spine.
Luck was on my side according to the doctor, as I could have never walked again.
It’s much easier to appreciate life when you’re close
How do you think living so close to Mundaka [Europe’s
to losing it. In the hospital, when people came to visit me,
to wave riding?
to spend lots of time with my girlfriend, my friends, and
best river mouth for surfing] has affected your approach Mundaka has been the key to understanding what a wave can provide my soul. I started to go to Mundaka with Alfonso
I realised what’s most important: simply to do what I enjoy, my family.
Now I’m back in the sea getting barrelled, but something
Fernandez. I was about 12 and Alfonso around 30 when he
in me has changed. I continue to travel and with more
wave. He was, and still is, a very good tube-rider and the way
wave somewhere remote. I am more careful, because now it’s
first used to take me there. He was totally hooked on that he talked and approached surfing was pure poetry. Then,
when I was 16, I started to travel to other world class waves and got hooked to the feeling of each of them.
strength than ever. But I count to three before paddling into a time that matters to me the most: the time we have left, how
we spend it, and with whom. I’m interested in the value of what’s important: good health, friendship and life.
People ask me now if I’m afraid to ride waves like that
Tell me a bit about how you locate the best waves on
again. Whilst I am more cautious, I know that the most
conception and paddling out for the first time?
in the heart of my life. The vast majority of things that we
your exploratory trips. How long does it take between Well, I first heard about using Google Earth to locate
possible breaks on that trip Cory Lopez and those guys did
to Skeleton Bay in Namibia. Since then I don’t think there is a corner of the world I haven’t looked at on the map. But you
intense moments are when I’m most connected with nature, fear never actually happen. And so this short trip of life has to be an opportunity to have the best time possible.
do not know what’s going to happen based purely on research; you don’t even know if you’re even going to reach the spot.
With swell direction, predominant winds and the offshore depth all in mind, I choose a place I think there could be potentially perfect waves, but who knows? That’s the beauty of it. That’s why I always say that it’s such a romantic way of
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I read that the Spanish explorer Julio Villar played
Inevitably there are questions about the effect on the
Julio´s book Eh Petrel is very important to me. He was
feel about this issue?
a big role in inspiring the new film. Why is that?
a climber, but he got injured and so couldn’t go to the
Himalaya, but he decided to keep the adventure going and
bought a little sailing boat. With very little experience, he started sailing and travelling the world solo; he spent three
years sailing in total. While he was sailing, he wrote what became Eh Petrel.
The book doesn’t really talk about the navigation,
just about the introspective effect that a journey like that
has on your soul. It´s a holy book for many adventurers, and it was a crucial inf luence on my way of life. I decided
to make a short movie with Julio. There are some other writers who’ve inspired me, like John Muir and Henry
environment that long distance travel has. How do you This is a tough one. It’s something I’ve been thinking a lot about in the past few years. I’ve been to very isolated places,
such as islands off the Alaskan coast for example, and have seen plastic everywhere. Seeing waste plastic in very remote places makes you think a lot about how global consumption is out of control, and how unsustainable humans are in terms
of using natural resources. I see myself in deep contradictions all the time - travelling by plane for example - but I do believe
that humanity must face the challenges posed by climate
change. This is everyone’s problem. And it’s important for me to provoke others to think differently.
I’m working on a project now with my girlfriend in
Thoreau. I am so thankful for their legacy. I’d like to
Senegal, trying to educate people to re-use plastic. It’s a huge
is possible. Even if just one person has been inspired by
even know how bad it is. We are simply bringing them a tool
think that my work can inspire someone to re-think what me, I’d be happy with that.
Which trips have really stood out as landmark moments over the last decade?
I think the first solo trip I did to Africa, in 2010. I remember
problem in Africa, and in most of the places the locals don’t
to melt the plastic and re-use it. We’re trying to educate the villages to be conscious of the problem. In the end, it’s not
the plastic or our consumption of oil itself that’s the biggest problem, but our way of being and acting globally.
I already had the plan for a solo adventure for months, but
the real crunch time was when I was about to click to buy the ticket. I had a big internal battle between what I wanted to do and my fears of doing it. And then I just said right, you have to do this, it´s your dream… So I bought the ticket, and
for the next two weeks before catching the flight everyone was telling me – you know how Westerners can be – that
cannibals with bones in their noses were going to cook me in
a pot, and things like that. Then I faced all those fears. I took the flight and that trip was by far the best thing I ever did.
Before my first trip to Africa, people were telling me that cannibals with bones in their noses were going to cook me in a pot. And that trip was one of the best things I ever did. It changed the path of my life
It changed the path of my life.
Are you always looking for somewhere new to surf?
So, where’s next?
there is some kind of calling that questions constantly ‘where’s
hate relationship with the continent. When I’m there for a
Sometimes I try to go back to places I’ve been before. But next?’ It´s a great feeling. I’m still young and I feel strong, but
with time I might not be able to go to all the places I am
currently able to. I’ll always try to not lose the capacity of questioning what’s next for myself.
Your adventure documentaries have evolved from your
Lately I have been very focused on Africa, but I have a love-
long time it can be very hard, but when I get home I miss it so much that I can’t help but go back. There are amazing waves all around the coast of Africa; I love the culture, the people,
the colours. Everything about it. But right now I’m looking for new places to surf in the Southern Hemisphere.
hand-held, self-filmed missions in West Africa - which I think really captured the imaginations of travelling surfers - to the release of your film En Ningún Sitio. Was that transition always part of the plan?
Thank you, Chris. To be honest nothing has been planned. En Ningún Sitio is the result of my friendship with Bernat Sampol, the director. A long time ago I gave Eh Petrel to him, and he was also deeply inspired by it. Bernat then became a
very talented filmmaker. I like to keep a kind of punk, D.I.Y.
style in the productions I work on. The thing the majority of surfing films have in common, though, is that they’re all independent ideas.
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BAC K TO BA S E Running & im agi n atio n | M i na Lesl i e- Wu ja st yk
I
feel the rock under my fingertips, and the chalk on my
A friend of mine, Hazel Findlay [one of Britain’s leading
hands creates a soft friction as the wind blows in my hair.
climbers] once defined adventure to me in a striking phrase:
Intent on the effort, my body travels from move to move like a
numerous unknowns’. In her terms, I was unknowingly in the
My body is warm against the cool breeze. I move upwards. dance. I continue in parallel to the burning sensation building
in my muscles. Flow in climbing means total absorption and concentration, but also freedom and ease. It’s all mixed up
in this exhilarating cocktail of physical hyper-awareness,
‘You’ve left your own personal comfort zone and you’re among middle of an adventure. And I needed to illuminate my new adventure, change the lens, and make a massive omelette out of all my broken eggs.
Deeply focussed on rehab for my return to climbing,
connectedness, and exposure.
I had the feeling of being stuck in the middle of groundhog
ethereal experience where nature and human performance
mobilisation work meant I missed the outdoor spaces that I
Climbing was my window into flow; my ticket to this
meet. Climbing is like a drug; it’s addictive, and it sustained me mentally and physically. I shaped my life around it. Training
for it, travelling for it, eating for it, learning for it. Almost everything I did had its root in climbing.
You know the phrase ‘putting all your eggs in one basket’?
Well, without really realising, that was exactly what I’d done.
day. Lots of time in the gym, the swimming pool, and endless
used to be so immersed in. Being injured, as an active athlete, is pretty devastating. Mood is low from missing the activity
itself coupled with a temporary loss of identity. But then those things are compounded by the withdrawal from regular hits of adrenalin, endorphins, and - perhaps most of all - fresh air.
I realised that what I needed was an exploration of
I’ve studied a range of subjects from psychology and physiology
something totally unconnected to climbing. Something new.
when I zoomed out, all my little baskets lived in one big basket
it as a performance enhancer for my aerobic system. There was
In January, I fell off a rock climb, put my arm out, and
training plan dictated that I should go. It wasn’t for fun, and
to nutrition and training, and I thought I had a few baskets. But called ‘Climbing’.
broke my wrist. It was a comminuted, displaced fracture of both my ulna and my radius; a funny angle, seemingly a new joint
where there shouldn’t be one. I knew this wasn’t going to be a
quick fix. That day I’d dropped my big basket, and there were
I used to run as an addition to my climbing training; I saw
never a distinct desire for the activity itself; instead, a measured therefore it was forced. As a result, I found it difficult and
unfulfilling. I pushed at it in phases, giving up periodically. Worst of all, perhaps, I ran the same routes most of the time.
This time it had to be different. If I was going to find flow
broken eggs everywhere.
with my legs, I had to re-write the rule book. This time, it would
climbing areas in Britain - sits on my doorstep. I like to think
or run. I could do short routes or long routes. I could rest along
I live in Sheffield, and the Peak District - one of the best
I know it fairly well. The local gritstone and limestone have
given me many great experiences firmly rooted in or around climbing. But this was an unchanging perspective; a lens that I never thought, nor needed, to change.
After a standard period of mourning and healing after my
injury, I was able to exercise but not yet climb. It was in this phase that I discovered how a new opportunity might lurk in the obstacle created by my injury. 66
no longer be about running, but about exploring. I could walk the way. It was more about being outdoors, moving my body through the landscape, and seeing the accessible wild spaces of the Peak District from a new perspective.
Mina climbing through the final overhang of the hard sport climb Totally Free (F8b) at Malham Cove, England. The route is climbed in a single 60 metre pitch. KEITH SHARPLES
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The first run I went on was hard. I still had a cast on my wrist, and I was terrified of
falling over. My legs got tired fast, and my heart raced. My second run was with a splint.
I was less conscious of the wrist, but my mind was entangled in the effort of running, and
I found I was still doing the same routes I knew from my previous use of running as part of my training - and it bored me. I was moving but I wasn’t exploring. The burning that I was so accustomed to in my arms as a climber felt alien in my lower body.
Climbing had given me so much joy, but it had also blinkered me to everything else the landscape outside my home had to offer. I became an accidental cartophile, studying 1:125,000 maps with intense scrutiny Then I started to look at maps. With a different set of eyes I saw paths I hadn’t seen.
I saw routes through a landscape that I only knew from a limited viewpoint. Crags and
boulders didn’t matter anymore, and suddenly the space expanded. When I was no longer trying to get to a piece of rock, there were so many more options.
I set off to explore, sometimes walking, sometimes running, often a mixture of the
two. Empowered by detailed maps, I stepped into different scenery, took in new views, and
embraced novel terrain. All of this was on my doorstep for years, and I had never seen it. Climbing had given me so much joy but it also blinkered me to everything else my home
countryside had to offer. I became an accidental cartophile, studying 1:125,000 maps with intense scrutiny, searching for new, unknown routes to trace.
Light bulb moments sparked up through the whole experience. Most profound was
the realisation of how places connected up, and how a deeper understanding of any area’s
geography enhanced every outing. I grew more confident, less intimidated by the concept
of running, and more accustomed to the burning sensation in my legs. That burn became something I could tune out of, where before it was all consuming and unbearable. How much of this was physical adaptation, though, and how much was mental adjustment?
As time went on, I headed out more. I went running for its own sake, and to better
explore my home landscape. Going for a run became one of the only times I forgot about
my broken wrist. I found a pace, a steady rhythm to my breath. And I was kind to myself,
I allowed myself to walk up the steepest hills, gave myself breaks to take in the view, allowed myself a rest if I needed it. This wasn’t about exercise. I wasn’t pursuing a time, a distance or an elevation. It was primarily about adventure, discovery and compassion. This attitude to
running was liberating, and it gave me lease of life as well as a new form of escapism. It also felt like I gained a completely new backyard.
Running will likely never take the place of climbing for me. When I am back to full
strength I will undoubtedly go back to the rock with gratitude and relief. But I hope to
keep exploring, to continue with adventures that encompass more of the outdoor spaces
that I love. Fulfilment comes in many forms, and this injury has been a lesson in shifting perspectives, of expanding my horizons, and learning to appreciate new things.
Because of my accident, I’ve learnt a more open, less frantic version of existence that
can embrace changes in direction. I hope to move forward with a greater appreciation of
both the landscapes I explore and the body I inhabit. At the same time, I’ll strive to live with a greater diversity of experience beyond climbing, the sport that has so powerfully shaped my life.
Mina Leslie-Wujastyk is one of Britain’s leading contemporary rock climbers. You can find out more about her at minalesliewujastyk.com MAIN IMAGE: Mina on the hard Stateside boulder problem Resident Evil (V10) in Joe’s Valley, Utah. DAVID MASON INSET IMAGE: Mina finding flow in the hidden landscape of the Dark Peak, Derbyshire, England. KEITH SHARPLES
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B EYO N D BA S E Adventures in sci enc e Column | Lizzie Carr
T
Photography | David Pickford
he days of sea voyages to claim unknown lands are long gone, and modern-day
exploration has evolved far beyond the discovery and conquest of untouched terrain.
In our age of satellite mapping, the Earth’s surface leaves little to physically uncover, at least
on land. In the place of breaking new ground is something different; something equally,
if not more important than the discovery itself. Over recent decades, the eyes of the Western world have slowly been opened to the challenges that lie ahead in terms of preserving
wild environments across the globe. Geographers now say we live in the ‘Anthropocene’, a proposed new era of Earth history dating from the beginning of significant human impact on ecosystems and geology. It is no exaggeration to point out that the future of our planet
depends, to a very large extent, on us and our decisions. Where the first explorers chose to break and map new ground, contemporary adventurers must become the Earth’s guardians
instead of its conquistadors. Modern expeditions should strive to educate and inform,
improving our knowledge of our planetary home rather than staking claims to its territory, or striving to be the first to get somewhere or to do something.
I’m addicted to adventure and the outdoors, it’s where I feel happy and most at home.
The natural world is my playground. Whether I’m adventuring closer to home or travelling further afield exploring places I’ve never been, it all holds the same amount of excitement
and wonder. But the environmental degradation I have experienced on some of my travels is deeply saddening at the same time. Regardless of where I am in the world, the ugly and disappointing truth of the human impact on wild environments always affects me.
Plastic pollution - a huge problem primarily (but not exclusively) affecting the world’s
oceans and rivers - stems from the basic truth that, on a global scale, we discard much more plastic than we recycle. This is surely reason enough to ensure we find a solution to a problem we have ourselves created. We all need to roll up our sleeves to help fix this problem - and while there’s still enough time to make a difference.
Our carbon footprint on new adventures can be offset, to some extent, by contributing
to meaningful scientific research. As environmental issues become increasingly complex and challenging, the need for extensive research to better understand their scale and impact is more urgent than ever.
Many current environmental projects are requiring volunteer scientists to work together
to gather data and answer real-world questions. Today, anyone can be an adventure scientist with some research and planning, and the possibilities for taking science into your own hands
are wider than ever before. Smart technology provides unprecedented access to networked
knowledge, and forms a pool for like-minded groups and individuals to come together to help address global issues.
THIS PAGE: Paddle boarder in Stennis Ford, Pembrokeshire Coast, Wales. Taking photos of waste plastic in oceans and rivers and uploading them to the Plastic Patrol app can help scientists tackle the problem.
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A great example of a pioneering adventure science project
There couldn’t be a better time for Plastic Patrol - the charity
on a global scale is the International Barcode of Life (iBOL),
I founded which campaigns to eradicate single use plastic - to
research institutes. In 2014, iBOL asked people all over the
people across the world to help log circa five million pieces of
an association of universities, natural history museums and
world to gather biological samples in what can only be described as a colossal undertaking: the aim was to identify all living
launch the biggest ever citizen-led scientific survey. We’re asking waste plastic simply by taking photos on their phones.
We literally have the power in our pockets to accelerate
species on earth. The broader purpose of iBOL is establishing
change, and a duty of care to the planet to make research like
ultimately complete the inventory of all life on Earth. This is
Patrol app will provide vital data about the location, type, volume
a global bio-monitoring system to track ecosystems, and a project which continues today, and will do so for some time.
this a part of our travels. The information we gather in the Plastic and distribution of plastic, which can then be analysed by
scientists, providing insight into problem areas of waste plastic collection. This then helps build an evidence database with which
Small acts of environmental attention such as taking photos of waste plastic can build up to effect global change
to tackle this huge problem. The data we ourselves collect can
help tackle problems such as the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, the largest accumulation of ocean plastic in the world, which is located in the central Pacific between Hawaii and California.
I truly believe small acts of environmental attention - such
as taking photos of waste plastic and uploading them to a larger Technology firm IBM recently set up a platform to support
crowd sourced citizen scientist data. Looking for a way to create
a central repository for rainforest data, its research lab in Brazil
data-set - if multiplied by the power of millions of people, can build up to effect global change, impacting our future for the better.
Today we’re leading the way in citizen-led science, and
developed a portal and mobile app as a way to acquire more
Plastic Patrol currently holds the largest bank of waste plastic data
are able to upload photos of plant species and components, enter
base through our army of passionate volunteers. Currently,
knowledge about biodiversity in the Amazon rainforest. Users characteristics such as colour and size, and to compare these against a digital catalogue to identify and classify the species. 72
on record. We focus on building a tangible and valuable evidence the Plastic Patrol map contains more than 100,000 examples of plastic waste from 37 countries globally.
Whether you’re on an adventure of a lifetime or just
In 2016, Lizzie Carr became the first person to paddle board the
it shouldn’t be, it only takes a minute to upload it to the app.
waste plastic on an interactive map. This became the basis for her
commuting to work in your local park, if you find plastic where The future of our planet relies on everyone understanding challenges such as that of waste plastic and confronting them head on. We can all become adventure scientists whenever we
travel, and modern versions of the great botanical explorers and
length of England’s waterways – logging more than 2000 pieces of
charity, Plastic Patrol. Lizzie has also paddle boarded across the English Channel, and down the entire length of the Hudson River in the USA. Find out more at plasticpatrol.co.uk
expeditionary biologists of the past. If we want to preserve our
planet, then I’d argue it’s our responsibility to step up to this crucial role.
THIS PAGE: A paddle boarder spotlit by winter sun on the Dart estuary, Devon, England. FACING PAGE: Off the coast of North Cornwall, England, on a perfect summer’s day.
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BA S E T E C H M eri no ma gi c Story | Chris Hunt
Photography | The Woolmark Company
Wool has clothed humans for millennia. With a functionality still untouched by synthetic fabrics, it remains at the core of the textiles
industry. Defined by softness, a thin yarn, and an ability to perform in any environment, Merino is widely considered the finest of all wools. Today, the outdoor industry has reached peak Merino, and for very good reason. This is our ode to the world’s finest adventure fibre. What is Merino wool?
Fast forward another 2000 years, and in south western
The same structural protein which forms our nails and hair as
Spain in the 12th Century, sheep farmers introduced breeds
up about 90% of wool. Merino wool takes its name from the
this breeding process is generally believed to have created the
well as the hooves and claws of animals, keratin, also makes breed of sheep which it insulates. Expressed in microns – a
millionth of a meter – the diameter of its fibres is what really separates Merino from every other type of wool. While long-
wool sheep may typically produce fibres with upwards of 30 microns, typically Merino sheep fibres measure lower than
20, with the highest ultrafine breeds producing fibres as low as 10 microns. To put that into perspective, a red blood cell is about 5 microns across, a human hair about 75 microns. The evolution of Merino
Around ten thousand years ago, in the ancient region of
Mesopotamia – known today as the area between Kuwait and south eastern Turkey – sheep were domesticated for the first
time. According to evidence from archaeological sites in Iran,
selective breeding of animals for their wool started about
two thousand years later. By around 4000 BC, sheep were
from the British Isles and North Africa to their local stocks. Merino breed. As the world’s sole producers of Merino, this
new monopoly was instrumental in early modern economic
development in Spain. In high demand from the European aristocracy, all Merino flocks were owned by Spanish nobility
or the Church. Any movement of the sheep fiercely protected. Efforts to take live Merino sheep outside Spain were punishable by death.
By the 18th Century, typically as gifts from the Spanish
King to fellow European monarchs, small numbers of Merino
sheep were exported from Spain. Eventually, in 1787, the English naturalist and botanist Sir Joseph Banks acquired four Merino ewes and two rams in Portugal. In 1790, acting
as the agent of King George III, Banks purchased forty more to form the foundations for the royal flock at Kew Gardens in London.
The cold, humid environment in England didn’t agree
introduced to Europe.
with the sheep. Developed in southern Spain, the sheep
been forged soon after, the oldest European wool textile on
sheep undercover in barns and sheds failed as the confined
Whilst the first woollen garments are likely to have
record was found in Denmark, two metres deep in a peat bog, wearing a pointed skin cap produced from sheepskin
and wool. The body was so perfectly preserved that local
authorities believed they had discovered a recent murder victim, but upon recovering the body, examinations suggest the man died in circa 1500 BC.
were used to dry, temperate climates. Attempts at raising the environment caused severe stress to the animals. The combination of dry cold and summer warmth had stimulated the fleeces that Merino sheep had become known for. As the British wool industry started to expand internationally at the
end of the 18th Century, six Spanish Merino sheep arrived in South Africa, where they soon multiplied.
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Merino arrives Down Under
The way it works
Portsmouth to compound the First Fleet, a group of roughly
fabric comes down to moisture management. This simple
On the 13th of May 1787, eleven ships departed from 1500 people who would found the penal colony and the first
Western settlement in Australia. Amongst the convicts, marines, civil officers and free civilians, about 70 sheep - bred
only for the consumption of their meat - survived the journey. In 1797, having purchased seven Merino sheep in Cape
Town which had made their way from England, Captain Henry Waterhouse, an officer in the British Royal Navy,
sold those sheep to John Macarthur. An officer in the British
army as well as an entrepreneur, politician and architect,
On a very basic level, the effectiveness of Merino wool as a
capability remains the key to Merino being one of the most versatile, functional fibres on Earth. While most synthetic
materials feel wet after they absorb around 7% of their weight in moisture, like most wool Merino will absorb up
to about 35% of its own weight in moisture before it feels wet to the touch. But its real genius is the ability to draw
moisture away from the surface of your skin and release it for evaporation.
Of course, the human body’s natural response to
Macarthur was busy putting his stamp on the new society, and
overheating is to cool by releasing moisture through the skin’s
wool industry.
technology to keep you both comfortable and cool; this is a
he is recognised as one of the key pioneers of the Australian
In March 1858, the Peppin brothers of Dulverton in
Somerset threw a collective hat into the ring. Purchasing a large
pores, so a common feature of most active wear is wicking functionality lifted directly from the properties of wool.
Through what’s known as capillary action – the process
amount of land in southern New South Wales, they selected
by which liquid naturally moves through narrow spaces
the Australian strain of Merino known as the Peppin, a type
draw moisture away from the skin to its outer surface. This
200 ewes to breed. With these ewes, the brothers developed of Merino wool that has since become legendary throughout Australia and around the world for its particularly fine and high quality yarn. 76
despite opposition from external forces - Merino’s fibres is also how plants draw water from soil. It’s this natural phenomenon that gives Merino its extraordinary ability to manage moisture.
Temperature regulation
Merino in the UK
it is. Yet through its superb moisture management, Merino is
with the mills of north west England renowned on a global
Normal wool is typically thought of as a great insulator, which also a fantastic heat regulator. By absorbing within its structure
any moisture omitted from the surface of the skin and then evaporating it, the air between the skin and the fabric is cooled.
Effectively, the warmer you get the more evaporation takes place, and therefore the larger the cooling effect.
So if it’s so good at keeping us cool, how does it also keep
For centuries, wool production was a key industry in the UK scale. Today, the UK accounts for around just 1.4% of the world’s wool production.
‘Lots of UK farmers traditionally farm sheep only for
meat and see wool as a waste product,’ explains Lesley Prior, one of the UK’s few Merino producers.
‘We wanted to do something different where we didn’t
us warm? Within the structure of the fibres, wool is naturally
have to kill animals to make money. Merino is sustainable,
body heat. This is the basic design of all insulation, with the
no harmful micro-plastics and it has incredible softness,
crimped allowing space for tiny chambers of dead air to store air serving as a barrier against heat and cold when appropriate.
renewable and absolutely recyclable like all wool. There are which is ideal for next to skin sportswear.’
Today, the sheep Lesley breeds on the fringes of Exmoor
Odour resistance
are very different from those of early Merino back in 18th
shoulders above many of its competing fibres is the fact it
adapting to different climates.
The common headline which alone puts Merino head and
doesn’t retain body odour, or at least not for a really long time.
Century Spain, having been through multiple transformations
‘The genetics of our sheep are Australian, pure Super
That’s because its fibres are naturally anti-microbial, making
and Ultrafine Merinos, which do far better in wetter
Like all wool, Merino contains Lanolin – a wax used in
extreme dry conditions where they have to walk miles for
it difficult for bacteria to develop.
various lubricants, rust-preventive coatings and shoe polish
– which is naturally secreted by the sebaceous glands of the
sheep. This adds a degree of waterproofing to the outer layer
of the garment. Not only does this protect the wool from the rain, but it also prevents bacteria and dirt from settling on
environments,’ she explains. ‘They aren’t really suited to
water. Even in Australia, my type of sheep are found in the wetter parts of New South Wales and in Tasmania, and also Victoria. The wool copes well with rain, providing you get the genetics right. That’s what we have spent 15 years doing.’
its surface.
Secondly, the protein behind the structure of the wool,
keratin, destroys any bacteria which has managed to settle. Consisting of two different cell types, through their different rates of moisture absorption, they create friction. The result is a remarkable self-cleaning mechanism. Merino in the adventure industry
Despite rapid development in synthetic materials in the 1990s, all synthetic breathable fabrics were designed to replicate the natural properties of Merino wool
Next to the skin, you’ll be hard pushed to find a fibre more comfortable and better suited to the challenges of the
outdoors than Merino. For base layers – arguably one of the
Keen to develop and follow her own locally sustained
most important components of your adventure wardrobe –
supply chains here in England, Prior works directly with the
While Merino clothing is of course no new thing, its
sheep on location in Devon, the wool is then transported for
there’s no better fibre.
powers for dealing with the challenges of outdoor activity weren’t discovered until relatively recently. At a time
when oil-based synthetics were on the rise, New Zealand entrepreneur Jeremy Moon stumbled across the brilliance of
individuals at every stage of the process. Sheared from the
spinning in Yorkshire. It’s sustainable practices like these which ultimately keep producers like Lesley Prior in business. But it’s not always easy.
‘We have to find and work with retailers and processors.
Merino through a chance encounter with a farmer in 1994.
We supply Finisterre, the outdoor clothing brand based in
1990s, synthetic breathable fabrics were designed explicitly to
work really well with them,’ she says.
Despite rapid development in synthetic materials in the
replicate the natural properties of Merino wool. Realising its
Cornwall. They’re a great team. We share their values and
potential for adventure clothing, Moon fell in love with Merino,
and founded the brand Icebreaker. The key behind his new
venture was to mimic natural behaviours, and to act resourcefully and dynamically in accordance with the environment.
Working with Merino farmers across New Zealand,
Australia and South Africa, Icebreaker is a truly international operation today. The business also works closely with mills in
China, Vietnam, Taiwan and Japan - and garment suppliers in
Asia, America and Europe - before being distributed globally. 77
B A S E C U LT U R E E qu i l i b ri u m l i nes Artwork | Tessa Lyons
Poetry | David Wilson
Gritstone Solo, Sudden Rain What was here an hour ago has gone;
dry each shoe against your jeans,
a shout that would be heard.
your life balanced on its tip.
people, lark-song, sunlit purple,
then commit to one small edge,
Now the climb demands you be
On top, high, look down the long slab.
Calm legs that want to tremble,
That’s how close you came to time.
the self you always sought.
78
It’s three hundred million years old.
Fjarski
Equilibrium
Out of the blue, she tells him
Climbing dissolves me in colour,
not so much for distance itself,
blue precision of balancing up.
about fjarski, the Icelandic word as difficulty in judging distances;
orange-red blur of heart effort, Ice becomes my picture plane,
how perspective blues horizons;
the blank surface I pattern with marks.
as dry air grows moist. He notes
through to the top of our frozen world.
or the way hills appear to retreat the word half-rhymes with fiasco
Our line curves up from the drop below At every point my placements hold.
and walks out into the blue hour
We rest at the summit. Landscape stills.
Later, he returns, to search her eyes.
where islands, sky and sea-lochs merge:
when dog is hard to tell from wolf. He can’t unlearn this new word.
Beyond white hills the sun sets
I am here again, I am here after all. We go back the way we came,
share stories in the listening dusk. Above Stob Coire’s silhouette
two stars balance a crescent moon.
79
A Run Round Ravens Crag So many trees thrown down by winter storms. Their torn and tangled roots are shocked.
Saplings have snapped, taken new forms a clash of antlers, a praying mantis.
My track blocked by logging trucks, I climb a bank where ferns unfurl
and fungi work on hollowed stumps.
Between moss-covered rocks a fairy glen. Chain-saws release pine-breaths. And I run on, through leaf litter and slime, from down to up, and up to down,
a work in progress, a work in regress. 80
Yr Wydffa, November I need my old familiar hill fierce with wind and rain;
push hard past Lyn Lyddaw, the ruins of Britannia mine.
Crags and hillsides run white; rain finds every opening, dissolves the membrane
that lies between two worlds. So I have come to this grief
as if you’d always waited here,
half-way up the Miners’ Track, standing under slate rain.
Tessa Lyons is an artist and a climber. You can find out more about her work at tessalyons.co.uk David Wilson is a poet and mountaineer. His new collection ‘The Equilibrium Line’, a collection of poems inspired by climbing, is published in July 2019 by Smith/Doorstop.
81
PA R T I N G S H O T Photograph | Will Copestake
Camping on the banks of the lagoon of Glacier Galeria in
of stealing luxury where there was little. The metallic sounds of
first glimmer of stars after several days hard paddling in freezing
open fire were a fine reward for the many tough miles behind us.
southern Chilean Patagonia, Seumas Nairn and I enjoyed our rain. A brief window of clear skies and calm winds gave a sense
the ice chinking and falling into the lagoon and the warmth of an Moments such as this underscore why I love Patagonia.
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