I’d only been home from my latest Himalayan expedition a few days, before another adventure began. The Kendal Mountain Festival might only last a few days in the eyes of the public, but to the organisers, planning a trip to the moon would be easier. The tsunami of e-mails that my inbox sank under took some sorting, but by the Thursday morning of the festival, I was ready to go.
The next morning the wind had died and weak rays of sun fought their way through high, wispy clouds. I dug out my tent, packed my pulk and all of us set off on skidoos to the valley of Kalkdal.
Months of planning, teams coming and going, injury, frustration, kit buying and chaos came to an end when I boarded the flight to Iceland.
People accuse me of doing crazy things. Well, that’s fine by me. You see, what to many seems completely mad, to me sets a challenge like no other on this earth…
The Kendal Mountain Festival is the highlight of the climbing calendar in the UK, but for me it wasn’t always that way. I had visited the festival years back and even had my Discovery Channel documentary “Nightmare at 20,000ft” premiered there, but I always felt a little lost. Was it because I was on my own? Or the fact that I didn’t know a soul? Who knows, but it all changed one day on the Hornli Ridge.