Adventure She December 2022

Adventure She magazine, Issue 19, December 2022

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Empower Educate Entertain

Featuring Tierra del Fuego to the Arctic Bouldering in London Packrafting Iceland

Plus Swimming the English Channel Photography Insights Colorado Trail & Lots more 1 Issue 19, December 2022 issues www.adventureshe.com

Price £5.00 for 1 issue or £12 for all 4 of 2022’s

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Welcome From Our Editor Welcome to the 19th issue of Adventure She magazine which is a bumper issue and the theme for which is ‘time management.’

but in this issue there’s lots of mini adventures, some of them really epic ones, that can fit into annual leave, long weekends, even normal weekends, or perhaps between school and college / college and starting work / between jobs.

Why time management? Because it strikes me the magazine has dealt with the following: mental health, travelling with children, fear, coping with change, risk assessment and management, selfdoubt v self-belief, seizing the moment, resilience, stepping beyond our comfort zone, the importance of gratitude, leadership, reflection, exercising choice, identifying what we can and can’t control, SMARTER goal setting, taking a step by step approach, the importance of attitude and self-kindness. That’s a lot.

That is how Kristina Bodewes found the time to attempt a female fastest known time record on the Colorado Trail from south to north. She utilised that summer between high school and college to go for a goal of hers. Living in the USA where annual leave for many is notoriously tight, who knows when that sort of opportunity would present itself to her again.

Annual leave is how Leanne Dyke found the time to packraft across Iceland, training and preparing for it whilst she was working full time. We’re guessing that Leanne prioritises researching, planning and training for her adventures over binge watching TV series on various subscription channels. Well done, Leanne. You are a true time manager extraordinaire.

But there’s only so many hours in a day, days in a week, weeks in a year. How on earth are we meant to ‘do everything’?

How are we meant to be the empowered educated us, when each day can sometimes be a struggle with so many tasks to deal with? How can we find the time to identify and plan our dream adventure, if we haven’t even got the time to look after ourselves properly?

In my early 30’s I moved to Hong Kong and then to New Zealand, before in my mid 30’s moving again to Australia. What was the point of my living in New Zealand if I didn’t make the most of the New Zealand lifestyle? It came down to time management, making the most of weekends, public holidays and annual leave which, when I first went there, was

Enter time management. We may not be able to undertake a multi-year adventure like this issue’s ‘What A Woman Award’ winners the incredible Bethany (Fidgit) Hughes and Lauren (Neon) Reed, and indeed it may not be our dream to do so,

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only three weeks! I also didn’t know how long I would be there, so it was a case of choosing goals and working towards them, so that I could achieve any New Zealand related goals before I left. The story is divided into two parts, my initial days and training for the Coast to Coast, and later in this issue, doing the Coast to Coast. You can probably suspect, time management became imperative once I committed to that race. I could not have done the training without strict time management.

woman who does however know, is Sophie Ruffles. Her story of swimming across the Solent to The Isle of Wight, which is an epic swim, is I thinking truly inspirational.

Harri Corp has written two articles for this issue, very kindly stepping in when articles expected from elsewhere didn’t materialise. Thank you so much Harri. In the first of those articles – photography tips - time management is imperative, after all if you arrive late, the sunrise, or sunset, or right shadows may have long gone. In the second, Harriet shows how it’s possible to have a bikepacking adventure by taking just a few days off work. But, the real purpose of that article goes far deeper, it delves into our brain and how if we’re not careful, our own brain can stop us from pursuing the life we want to lead. Of course, if we do that, then before we know it time has run out.

They say exercise and socialising is good for us. But how to exercise at night, especially if it’s cold, damp, wet, or icy outside? Yes, gyms are a possibility, but they can be lonely too. What about a club? Cities can have a wealth of clubs in them, whether kayaking, running, cycling, dancing, skating, climbing, bouldering or something totally different.

Enter Kate Capelli who organises bouldering sessions, followed by socials, in London. What better way to clear one’s head from the pressures of the day than when clinging from a wall, even if only because holding on needs concentration, so the brain must focus on the here and now, rather than ruminate over the day’s work. If you don’t live in a city, ask around, you’d be amazed how many after work sporting clubs might exist in your area. Yes, let us use those evenings of ours wisely.

For swimmers, tackling the English Channel can be akin to a mountaineer attempting an 8000 metre peak. It is one of, if not the most famous open water swim. How does one go about swimming the English Channel? How does one manage one’s life responsibilities and training load? How does one keep going? The truth is some don’t, choosing to stop during the training phase, for that’s what might be right for them.

Others might choose to stop whilst in the water enroute to France. Not so the inspiring women Ellie Ames writes about.

Another challenge to living a balance life is being a new mother. Recovering from giving birth, nursing, perhaps combined with other small children to care for, work and commuting too. How do parents cope? How do they find the time to fit it all in? I have no idea. One

I appreciate there’s two long distance swim articles in this issue, but I think it’s worth sharing both. After all, swimming can be a very accessible sport, not much 3

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kit it needed and there’s swimming pools, and open water swimming possibilities all over the place. Please though, if open water swimming, be mindful of things like currents, weather, water temperature, water quality etc.

You may like to check out tips from the Royal National Lifeboat Institution or the Outdoor Swimming Society or other bodies that encourage safe swimming.

Back to the article, of course doing an event like swimming the English Channel isn’t cheap, what with boat hire costs etc, but not all long distance swims are expensive. On top of that, most open water swim take at the most only a few hours, some less than an hour, so if you’re struggling with a lack of time, time management wise, open water swim events can be a really friendly adventure option.

Adventure She interests me, but this one, well, I absolutely love love love it. Thank you so much Atli, you are a brilliant writer. Everyone else, that’s not taking anything away from you, it’s just well, I have a thing for bears. How does this story fit into the time management theme? Perhaps it does, perhaps it doesn’t, but the conversation Atli and I had at that café turned out to be a brilliant exercise in time management, for we ate, we drank, we talked, we laughed, we connected. Sometimes even the simplest things in life, like swapping stories with others over a coffee, is the best possible use of our time, for we never know where those conversations might lead us.

What else, there’s no UNESCO feature this time around, as a couple of UNESCO sites come up with other stories. Of course, there’s a book review, both fascinating books and very different too.

As for the coming up pages, there’s a big surprise

Now I don’t usually reveal my favourite article in an issue, but this time around I’m making an exception. I spent much of the summer hiking the Colorado Trail in the USA. Whilst refilling my stomach with food and coffee in the town of Fairplay, Colorado, I met Atli Pommer, who was also hiking on the trail. We got talking about bears, for the Colorado Trail is black bear country. Atli’s had the privilege of seeing bears in recent years.

I have not, the last time being 1987 and then only fleetingly. Atli, has very kindly share her bear experiences with us in this issue. Every article that makes it into

I very much hope that you will enjoy this issue of Adventure She and that you’ll find it to be empowering, educating and entertaining.

Jane

Adventure She is published by TNA Consulting Services Ltd, the address of the registered of which can be obtained from Companies House. The entire contents are protected by copyright and all rights are reserved. Reproduction without prior permission is forbidden. Every care is taken in compiling the contents of the magazine, but the publishers assume no responsibility in the effect arising therefrom, Readers are advised to seek professional advice before acting on any information which is contained in the magazine. Neither TNA Consulting Services Ltd nor Adventure She magazine accept any liability for views expressed, pictures used, or claims made. Copyright © 2022 TNA Consulting Services Ltd. All Rights Reserved.

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Photography Front cover: Lauren (Neon) Reed and Bethany (Fidgit) Hughes collectively known as Her Odyssey, in front of Assiniboine on Canada’s Great Divide Trail.

Back cover: Our editor, Jane Harries horse riding in Iceland.

We’ve run out of space to include anything else on horse riding in Iceland in this issue, but there will be more on our website during 2023.

Photographs accompanying the editorial: The Colorado Trail, courtesy of Jane Harries.

All other photos courtesy of the article’s author / interviewee, unless otherwise stated

Following Adventure She on social media If you'd like to follow Adventure She on social media and / or join our Facebook Group, we'll be delighted to see you.

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Topics In This Issue Of Adventure She Magazine Page 8: Bears and the Bus Driver

Page 16: Colorado Trail - FKT

Page 30: Expat Life, New Zealand Style

Page 44: Book Reviews

Page 52: Breastfeeding and Long Distance Swimming

Page 46: Adventures in the City

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Page 58: What A Woman – Her Odyssey

Page 68: Packrafting Iceland

Page 108: Driving v Bikepacking

Page 92: Photography Tips

Page 114: Swimming the English Channel

Page 122: Racing the Coast to Coast

Page 136: - Coming Up in 2023

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Bears and the Bus Driver

By Atli Pommer 8

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It was a rainy afternoon in Fairplay Colorado. Our editor sat in a café gorging on food and real coffee, her taste buds and empty stomach relishing their taste and calories. An hour or so later she finally managed to move, not far though, just to the ladies’ loos.

En route to the loos, she had to walk through the cafe’s back room. There sat another hiker doing the Colorado Trail. They got talking, talking and talking.

The other hiker was called Alti and she lived in Vancouver Canada. The only time our editor had seen bears in the wild was Canada. She was apprehensive of bears, she’d walked on for miles, rather than camp in a spot that looked like it might be prone to visiting bears. They talked of bears. Our editor was in awe at Alti’s experience with bears and asked Alti if she’d be happy to share her story in Adventure She. We’re delighted to report Alti jumped at the chance. The photos are all courtesy of Pixabay and are for illustrative purposes.

The first time I ever saw a bear, I was at a garbage dump in rural Canada. I was visiting family in Manitoba with my parents. One afternoon my dad asked me, "Do you want to go see some bears?" Being about twelve years old I immediately said yes. So my dad, my dad's cousin Bruce and I all piled into an aging 1980s Ford pickup truck and off we drove to the dump, which was really just a huge pile of garbage in the middle of a clearing in the forest. There we sat in the truck and watched about ten black bears dig through the refuse of rural Manitobans, looking for a snack. I was thrilled. It would be another twenty four years before I saw a bear again.

within the Arctic Circle. Polar bears are the largest bear species. While their fur appears white, it’s actually transparent, reflecting the light so it appears white.

Brown bears (aka Grizzly bears) are the second largest bears, and known for the unique large, muscular hump on their shoulders. The grizzly bear’s range includes the US states of Alaska, Washington, Idaho, Montana and Wyoming and in Canada their range includes British Columbia, Alberta, the Yukon, the Northwest Territories, Nunavut and part of northern Manitoba.

Grizzlies come in colors from blond, brown to nearly black.

Canada has three main species of bears: the North American brown bear (more famously known as the grizzly bear), the American black bear, and the polar bear.

The range of the polar bear is largely

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The American black bear is found in most of Canada and much of the Northern, Western and Eastern US states, as well as along the Rockies and even down into parts of Mexico. They range in color from blond, cinnamon, light or dark brown, to

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A grizzly (brown) bear mother and cub, Alaska

jet black and even all white.

There are approximately between 100 to 500 all white black bears, a distinctive subspecies, known as the Kermode bear (sounds like curmode-ee) that live on the Central and North Coast region of British Columbia.

Though Wikipedia tells me grizzlies exist down into what is currently Vancouver, I have not personally seen a grizzly nor have even heard of one this far south, not even in the wilder areas surrounding the region.

There's a sort-of joke about what to do when you meet each of them in the wild. If it's a black bear clap your hands, calmly yell "hey bear" and back away slowly. (Never run, bears

are very fast). If you are unfortunate enough to be attacked by a grizzly, play dead. And if you should meet a polar bear, you’re in some real trouble. If it’s black, fight back. If it’s brown, lay down. If it’s white, goodnight! Black bears are generally the most chill of the bear family. They'd really rather prefer to eat berries and salmon or dig through your trash can than go through the hassle of trying to kill and eat you. Humans are messy.

I think a lot of folks who don't live in Canada, often assume bears are running amok everywhere here.

That every hike and every camping trip includes bears busting into your cooler Yogi bear style for a picnic.

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However, I grew up in the sprawling suburbs of Vancouver, BC about 5 km from the ocean and nowhere near the forest, in the 1980s and 90s. Plenty of seagulls and crows, no bears.

Growing up in BC, I went car camping every summer with my childhood friend and her family. Camping this way consists of bringing many of the comforts of your home with you, in your car. You drive to one of the many beautiful and well maintained provincial parks, you find your large circular campsite (usually surrounded by a stand of tall evergreen trees that give you privacy from your neighbours), set up your tent, light a campfire and

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This page, grizzly (brown) bears

all the adults start drinking.

Never in 32 years of camping in BC provincial parks have I ever seen a bear. Black bears are shy, and I imagine a horde of screaming unsupervised children and drunken, card playing adults is just about the last thing they're interested in.

In 2013 I set off with a friend to bicycle the Pacific coast from Vancouver to Los Angeles. After my friend had finished her leg of the trip, I continued on solo. When I got to Elk Prairie Campground in the famous Redwood forests of Northern California, there were many signs warning of recent black bear activity in the campground. The hikeand-bike site had a bear locker. Alone and feeling somewhat nervous, I put every single thing I had inside of it except the clothes I wore to bed, my tent, mattress and sleeping bag. After dinner and before retiring for the night, I decided to be brave go on a walk on a trail that encircled the campground.

About halfway through, I found a fresh, steaming pile of bear scat. So then I began singing (because you’re supposed to let the bear know where you are) and I sang myself promptly 11

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This and opposite page, black bears. This is the type of bear which inhabits the Colorado Trail and which some hikers saw this last summer. A husband and wife even encountered a juvenile bear grab their food bag from high up on a tree and then calmly proceed to eat it.

right back to my campsite and to bed. I never saw a bear that trip either, though I did see elk, elephant seals and a tarantula.

This past summer, I joined

my good friend Joe to hike a portion of the Colorado Trail, from Denver to Breckenridge, Colorado.

That section, being the most populated portion of the 782 kilometer long trail,

is also the section in which there are the most bear sightings.

A fed bear is a dead bear.

Bears that have become habituated to humans often have to be killed, as they associate humans with food which puts both bears and humans at risk. For this reason, it's advised you either carry a hard sided bear canister, or a soft sided "bear proof" bag, or use the two tree hang method for hanging your food. I never saw a bear for the 160 kilometers I hiked on the Colorado Trail either.

Flash back to 2016 when I

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took a job as a public transit bus driver driving small 24 passenger buses. I mostly drive through the suburbs known as the “TriCities" which consist of the three Vancouver suburbs of Coquitlam, Port Coquitlam and Port Moody. (If you're familiar with Canadian lore, you'll know the legendary cancer research activist, Terry Fox, hails from Port Coquitlam).

All three of these cities border the edge of…well the edge of "civilization".

North of the Tri-Cities are a series of mountain ranges, lakes and provincial parks, home to many black bears.

My first summer, I was waiting late at night to make a left turn and... what!? What was that large, black void running across the road? It was a bear! I couldn't have been more excited. But I was alone driving an empty bus and had no one to share my excitement with!

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of the day, as the garbage truck was out collecting, a naughty bear tried to climb into an emptied trash bin looking for anything left behind. I saw a pair of cubs, playfully running and jumping along the side of the road after I had just picked up a group of tourists. This time I had someone to share my bear excitement with, though the woman was quite concerned they had been waiting at the bus stop only a few hundred meters away from where we spotted the bears!

Last summer I became sort of obsessed with seeing bears at work. I'd often be looking for them. Which led me to see probably the largest black bear I've ever seen, strolling leisurely through a Port Moody culde-sac (he was beautiful).

Another evening, I saw a bear ahead, so I slowed

The next summer and the next, were followed by more bear sightings. Which made me realize this was a regular occurrence at this job. Over the last seven years I've spotted a bear in late October, running across the road and onto someone's lawn that was covered in Halloween decorations. In the middle 13

way down, and drove alongside it in admiration, until it spotted me, freaked out and scrambled under a fence and down to the creek.

Every time I spot a bear it has brought me joy and excitement during an otherwise boring evening of driving in circles. I look forward to summers just to see the bears again. It's my own personal wildlife tour.

Some stories are funnier though. Such as the time I was driving in North Vancouver, an area famous for black bears. As I drove my bus through a neighbourhood, a young couple came running out of a trail in the forest across the street from the neighbouring houses. The young man was quite frantic, so I stopped and opened the door for them.

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"You have to call the police!" he yelled.

"Um... ok, what's going on?" I replied.

"We were just walking on that trail in the forest and we saw a bear!" he replied.

I had a hard time restraining myself from laughing. The bear lived in the forest. He went into the bear's house, saw a bear, and then wanted me to call the cops. I can only imagine what the North Vancouver RCMP (Royal Canadian Mounted Police) would've thought about that! I calmed him and his companion down and insisted he'd probably be alright.

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Since the days of my own childhood, I've watched as the Vancouver suburbs become less and less rural, less forested, and more filled with condos and townhomes. I'm sad for the bears. And I attribute the loss of their habitat as the reason why my bear sightings have steadily increased over the last seven years.

When I am out in nature, it seems to be the least likely time I will spot a bear. All of my bear sightings are from the comfy seat of a bus, in suburban Vancouver. I hope the bears will always have a home here. It’s mostly true, the bears are more scared of you than

This page, grizzly (brown) bear

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you are of them. They’d really rather be left alone, in their forest, eating berries and salmon.

About Atli Pommer Atli Pommer has been living in her van since 2016.

As well as watching bears, she loves the deserts of the American Southwest and the North Shore of Oahu, Hawaii. Alti is one of our authors who doesn’t really do social media. Should you wish to contact Alti, please send us a message and we’ll let Alti know.

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This page, black bear

This page, polar bear

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Setting a Fastest Known Time on the Colorado Trail

By Kristina Bodewes

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It was day 2 of our editor’s hike on the Colorado Trail. Only 10 miles or so, but her pack at close to 40 pounds weighed her down. The near 90 plus degree temperature didn’t help. Thank goodness she was now in the shade of some trees, no longer in the open burned area. Then out of the blue a young woman came towards her from the opposite direction. She looked fit and appeared to move with the agility and speed of a day hiker. Her pack, the same as our editor’s, instead of bulging at the seams though was light. They got talking. Three other hikers caught up with them. They all chatted some more. Then our editor shooed away the young woman, told her to keep going, to waste no more time chatting with them, for the young woman was on a mission. That mission, to set a fastest known time for a woman, along the Colorado Trail going from Durango in the southwest, to Denver in the north east, via the Collegiate East route. That woman name’s Kristina Bodewes and here is her story.

H

iking the Colorado trail alone, in 14 ½ days was hands down the most physically challenging thing I have ever done. Forcing myself to get out of my warm sleeping bag on chilly 4am mornings and cringing while putting on my still soggy socks from the night before, to continuing to trudge up steep, seemingly endless climbs with legs burning, and rain and hail on the top of ridgelines.

freezing. I was wearing my shorts and t-shirt and rain jacket. I sat under a tree for 15 minutes after putting on some more layers until I stopped shaking. It was my first call from Mama earth shaking me with both hands to wake me up and realize the reality of the dangers out there.

Now that the trail is pretty far behind me, I’m realizing that it was the times that I was the most frightened, most tired, in pain and discouraged that I remember and hold onto the most. Reminding myself that I pushed through hard things out there helps me to push through hard things now. With that said, I was absolutely struggling on the trail. I can’t think of a single day that I did not cry or wish at some point that I was back home, taking a hot shower, sleeping in a warm bed and eating a hot home cooked meal or even

The very first day I was out there, several miles in, I reached Indian Ridge just as a pretty gnarly storm was coming in. As I reached the ridgeline, thunder and lightning began cracking above me and large hail pelted me from above. When I finally made it to the end of the ridge and down into the trees, I was shaking uncontrollably from the fear of the lightning and because I was 17

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just talking to friends. But the struggle is, I think, why we do it.

strong in some areas where the insects hide when the rain and thunder booms. Elk run in groups, mothers and babies make sure to stay together. Everything just makes sense.

Life in today’s modern society can be really overwhelming. I was reading Anish’s book “Thirst” [Heather ‘Anish’ Anderson’s autobiography about when she set a fastest known time (FKT) on the …… mile Pacific Crest Trail] and I think she put it really well.

We all have our way of coping with the modern world. Some people drink, some binge eat, others spend money on stuff or spend hours at a time scrolling through social media, or exercise etc. I think for me it’s being alone in the woods. In the mountains, there isn’t room for nonsense and drama.

Mother nature makes sure of that. Through her vicious yet beautiful tests, her critters have learned to live practically. Trees stand

Our world is a living biome of beautiful plants and little critters and giant beasts. It’s a beautiful thing. And it’s not just that. The challenge of living through the elements every day while carrying all the necessities of life all the while trying to carry myself further than I have reminds me of a couple things.

First - society shoves in our faces and brains that we need all this stuff all the time. We need stuff to be happy, to be fulfilled, to fit in - whatever it is. Breaking it all down to the literal bare minimum necessities, I remember that it’s not that much. It also reminds me that ultimately, Mama earth can crumble us

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to pieces if she chooses. We need to respect her.

sizes all just out there for a breath of fresh air, a good view and a challenge.

Secondly, in this society of media where we are told that we’re inadequate if our waist isn’t a certain size or our butts aren’t the right shape, or our faces have a little acne or we’re not skinny enough, I’m reminded that each of us is unique, and capable of doing really challenging things. The trail doesn’t discriminate. I ran into an 80 year old man, I ran into college graduates, I ran into 7 year olds. There were people of all shapes and

Either way, pushing my body past what I think its limits are and what others think it can do, is how I cope with inadequacy and all the problems in the world. I am not ‘so put together’, I have just found a way to handle the struggles in the world by escaping to nature. I hope that makes sense. There’s so much more to it, and for everyone out there hiking, whether it takes them 5 weeks or 9 days, we all have some personal connection to the path that leads us 485 miles away.

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Q&A with Kristina Bodewes What’s the Colorado Trail?

I grew up in a very outdoorsy family, running cross country and track through middle and high school and Nordic skiing since age 4.

The Colorado trail is a 485 mile mountain biking and hiking trail which stretches across the state of Colorado beginning in Denver and finishing in Durango. It breaks into two different sections, the Western, which meanders through the exposed collegiate peaks and the East which is more populated and under tree level. Each is approximately the same distance, though the western route has slightly more elevation gain and is said to be more challenging.

My freshman year of high school, I learned some very unhealthy habits to cope with my declining mental health at the time. In response, at the end of the school year, my brother, Will, decided to take me on a 20 day hiking trip on a 415 mile section of the Appalachian Trail which stretched from Mt. Katahdin to Hanover. We were averaging 21 miles a day on some really tough terrain. At the time, I was angry and annoyed that I had to be out there (I was kind of forced into it), but ultimately, the experience reshaped the way I look at challenges that come up in life, and helped me to realize how much more I am capable of.

Prior to hiking the Colorado Trail with your friend Holly Proulx, in 2021, what outdoor and in particular, what overnight hiking experience did you have?

What made you decide to hike the Colorado Trail in 2021?

After hiking a section of the Appalachian trail in 2019 with my brother, I began brainstorming other trails and hikes to take on. Since we live in Colorado, it seemed appropriate that the CT would be my next adventure. Holly, Will’s girlfriend at the time, showed some interest as well and soon we found ourselves planning for the challenge ahead.

When hiking the trail in 2021, how much did your pack weigh when you started?

My pack was fairly light for my 2021 hike. I believe it was around 24 pounds. On this trip we carried a stove and pan and whatnot.

What were the hardest aspects of your 2021 hike?

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Weather was always a big barrier in being able to cover a lot of miles in a day. Our gear would get wet, we would get cold, and at times we were discouraged. I also did not pack enough food for myself.

myself to my family, anyone who has ever doubted me, but mostly myself.

Did hiking the trail in 2021 change you, or help you to develop in any way, and if so, how?

What were the most phenomenal aspects of your 2021 hike?

I spent most of high school feeling insecure about how I compared to girls in my school who were skinnier than me. I told myself that in order to be adequate and worthy, I needed to make myself smaller. This caused me to take a path of unhealthy eating habits and distorted body image. Pushing my body to perform at the level that it was on a daily basis for 19 days straight helped me to get my eating habits back on track, eating when I was hungry, not depriving myself of nutrients and not binging when I was feeling emotional. I began looking at myself as a healthy capable body that can do just about anything if I’m fuelling the way I should, and that has continued to be the case even now

Hands down, the scenery was absolutely incredible. Colorado is known for its mountains and natural beauty and that remained true on the trail.

What sort of mileage were you doing each day in 2021?

In 2021, Holly and I were averaging 26.2 miles a day (exactly a marathon a day!)

Where did you resupply in 2021, how long did you spend in resupply towns and did you hit any restaurants or cafes?

Holly and I dropped boxes on our way to Denver (because we started there and ended in Durango). We dropped one in Breckenridge, Twin Lakes and Monarch RV Park and met my Dad at the Lake City trailhead where he gave us our prepackaged food box and Molas Lake Campground. The only time we stopped in a town was in Breckenridge where we stayed in a little motel for our 4th night in.

Did you get any blisters or develop any other issues?

Not really.

How did you feel when you finished your 2021 hike?

After finishing the trail in 2021, just a few weeks into being 18, I felt a new sense of confidence in myself entering my senior year of high school. I felt like I had proved 21

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when I’m not pushing my body to that extent every day. What made you decide to return to the Colorado Trail in 2022 and to choose to hike it solo, plus in the opposite direction?

route from Denver to Durango which is the direction that the majority of hikers take. We noticed however that there wasn’t a record at all for women hiking from Durango to Denver.

Holly and I were very proud of ourselves for our accomplishment, but we wanted more.

We had been sleeping at least 8 hours a night, taking plenty of breaks, spent a night in a motel where we didn’t start hiking again until 10am the next morning and had carried a stove which required time for cooking. We began talking about “what if we had done this” or that and whatnot. We could’ve cut our time down immensely. Just for kicks, we started doing research on the FKT on the CT. Nika Myers (who I totally stalked on Instagram and FKT and everything and idolize) had recently set the record for the

Late into my senior year, Holly and I were outside chatting and the conversation came back up. And in that talk, before I even told my parents, I decided that I was going to take on the Eastern route from Durango to Denver and complete it as fast as possible. Holly wanted to attempt the FKT for the Western route. And so, we decided to go separately.

Hiking alone meant that I only would have one person to take care of, to take breaks for and to feed.

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What made you decide to try and set a record for the fastest known time (FKT) in 2022? Was that for supported, or self-supported, or non-supported and what’s the difference between each of those?

A “supported” FKT can be anything from a friend handing you one water bottle once, to having a whole crew follow you the entire way in a van, cooking your meals and giving you shelter every night.

Unsupported means that you carry everything, all your food- all your gear from the start to finish, no resupplies, no help from anyone. Those are rare and extremely challenging. I think that’s especially true given how long the Colorado Trail is.

I love a challenge, and so it just made sense that I would try to set a record after hiking the trail once. In the hiking world, selfsupported means that you can ask for food or shelter and whatnot along the way as long as no organized help is received. I originally wanted to do the hike self-supported, meaning that I would stash food along the way either by mailing boxes to different places and hiding bags in the woods.

My FKT is considered supported because I had family members bring me 2 of my boxes rather than stashing them. - my brother met me at Little Molas campground with a box which I had pre-packed with food. Later my dad met me at the Lake City trailhead with a 23

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box - this way, I wouldn’t have to hitchhike 17 miles alone into a town.

4:00am- homemade granola bar with peanut butter

What sort of mileage were you doing in 2022 and did the increased mileage impact upon you in some way?

9:00am- two tortillas with honey and peanut butter Throughout the day I would snack on bars, trail mix, peanut butter stuffed pretzels, lemonade etc.

In 2022 I was averaging about 33 miles a day.

This fluctuated a bit however: a few days I was much higher- between 38-41 miles, but one day (the Stony Pass section) I only did 25.

5-7:00pm- cold instant mashed potatoes on a tortilla, more snacks, cold soaked meals etc.

Where did you resupply in 2022 and how did you minimize time off the trail given you were attempting to set a FKT, whilst still doing the essentials like washing kit, showering, eating, charging power banks and buying food for the next stage?

How did your 2022 experience differ given you were solo and trying to set a record?

Being alone meant that I only had to take care of myself - I got to eat whenever I wanted to, I got to stop whenever I wanted I got to sleep and get up whenever I wanted.

In some ways it was freeing after living at home with my parents my whole life, and in others, it was really lonely. Having a record in mind helped me to push myself every day.

Having a goal was a great motivator when I wasn’t feeling good or when I was feeling discouraged.

I resupplied at Molas Lake campground where I met my older brother right off the trail. He gave me my box of food which I had packed ahead of time. I met my Dad a few days later at the intersection at Lake City with a box. I made it to Mount Princeton a few days later where I had mailed a box ahead of time. I spent a little more time there since they had hot showers (and of course I was going to take advantage of that.

The guy at the register for showers took one look at me and said my shower was on them.) In Twin Lakes, I picked up a box that I had mailed as well. Finally in Breckenridge I hitchhiked into town and was extremely lucky to be picked up by a mom who was fascinated by me hiking out there alone at my age. She took me to a vegan pizza restaurant and bought 2 pizzas and an ice cream sundae which I happily gorged myself on. She also took me to the grocery store and waited for me to buy all my food before.

Given the distances you were doing each day in 2022, how did you go about consuming enough calories each day?

This was definitely a struggle for me. I underestimated how many calories I would be burning and lost between 10-13 pounds by the end. As a vegan, it was important for me to find other sources for my fats and protein. I went through several jars of peanut butter and a lot of trail mix. A regular day of eating consisted of something like the following:

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What kit changes did you make in 2022 and if you were doing it again, is there anything you would change again?

driving me to the trailhead. It was as we like to call trail magic in its purest form.

What were the hardest times for you and how did you get through those moments?

I would absolutely pack more food. Way more food. I think it’s always better to have more and not need it than not enough. Even though I felt like I was gorging myself daily, I lost 11 pounds by the end of the trip. Also, I would consider taking a bivy sack instead of a tent. Towards the end I didn’t bother setting my tent up and just slept on the ground in my sleeping bag hidden behind some trees and left my food in my pack. Looking back now, perhaps that was not the wisest decision….

The day that I was hiking into Mount Princeton Hot Springs was the day that I was going to quit. I called my parents crying because it was hard. My legs were burning. I was moving slowly. My body was itchy. It was hot. My head was foggy and pounding from my inability to consume an adequate amount of calories. I told them that at Mt. Princeton I would likely spend the night and have them pick me up from there. I was about 6 or 7 days in. When I was 2 miles away, I called them again, feeling slightly more put together and they were very encouraging.

Once I got there, I was allowed a free shower which was truly all I needed to push through.

From there, I snacked on a cold soaked meal and was on my way.

To set a record, what data did you need to provide the vetters and how did you go about recording that data? Also, did you get the record, fingers crossed it’s a yes.

Did you see any animals out there? If so what and did any of those encounters scare you?

To set an official record, you need some sort of GPS device (I used a Garmin Inreach).

Every day at the beginning I would start my Garmin and stop it when I slept for the night.

And yes, I am happy to say that I set the FKT for a supported female on the eastern route of the CT from Durango to Denver.

I ran into lots of deer and elk. I also saw bear poop several times which was a little scary.

When you finished, how ravenous were you and what if anything did you crave?

What advice would you give other 19 year olds about goal setting and implementing their goals?

The first thing I ate after finishing was a veggie burger that my mom brought me in Waterton Canyon. An hour later we went to Quadoba where I had part of a burrito bowl and chips. It took me a while to get my appetite back. I had a much greater appreciation for hot, fresh and cooked food after eating cold soaked and dehydrated food for two weeks.

I think everyone underestimates themselves and their capacity to do hard things. With time and mental strength, I think people would be shocked by what they can accomplish. It’s better to aim high and shoot a little lower than aiming low and shooting low. At 19, it’s important to set big scary goals. Failure only happens if you don’t bother trying. But success means you tried in 27

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the first place and I think that people my age often write themselves off because of what people around them tell them and what they tell themselves.

under my belt. Additionally, I had a Garmin Inreach which gave me access to my parents regardless of if I had service, and it had an SOS button if worse came to worst. I don’t think that people regardless of age should go on long hiking trips especially where service is spotty without a device like that. Also, being alone in the woods is very different from being alone in a city. I would not necessarily have felt safe living alone on the streets of New York City where there are thousands of people around daily. Outside, 99.9% of people have good intentions and are just out there for similar reasons. For the .1% who aren’t, well, that’s why I carried bear spray with me.

What would you give to any parents who might be reading this but are terrified of letting their 15, 16, 17 year old to go hiking or bikepacking or on some other outdoorsy adventure?

I have been asked about this a lot by parents and adults and my own parents have been questioned because I was a 19 year old girl alone in the woods for 2 weeks. Some important things to note are that I had previous outdoor and hiking experience

Chelsea Holton

About Kristina Bodewes Kristina Bodewes recently finished her first semester at university where she has been studying Molecular and Cellular Biology. Something tells us that Kristina could be a name to follow for the future, not just for her adventures, but also professionally. We’re thrilled to have met her whilst at still a young age so we can follow her trajectory. You can follow Kristina on Instagram.

Instagram: www.instagram.com/bkristina13

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How do you go from feeling like a big, fat, blob, to doing one of the world’s iconic multisport races? Is it in fact possible?

Here our founder and editor, Jane, shares how she ended up racing New Zealand’s premier multisport race, the Coast to Coast. Of course, going from feeling blob to participating in a race like this takes times and involves a lot of steps, both forwards and backwards. You guessed, it’s a long story, so why not sit back, make yourself comfortable and enjoy.

Building a new life The doctor looked me in the eyes, his face all serious “leave Hong Kong, your lungs can’t cope with the pollution.”

Hong Kong had been both good and bad for me. Good in that thanks to training for and hiking the 100km Hong Kong Oxfam Trailwalker, I’d got seriously fit, bad in that each time the pollution levels went up, I got ill.

This time around my lungs were really hurting.

I’d barely managed to stagger the 10 minutes into work that day. I didn’t even sit at my desk, but went straight to the doctor’s office, which was in the same tower block.

I had a visa for New Zealand burning in my passport. Only it was about to expire. If I wanted to use it, to experience living and working in New Zealand, I needed to move there promptly.

To stay, keep living the Hong Kong expat lifestyle and to keep harming my lungs, or to go?

Walking towards the city centre from the youth hostel in Auckland’s Parnell, I sucked in mouthfuls of what – compared to Hong Kong – was pollution free air.

To my lungs, Auckland felt like heaven.

I hiked, I sailed, I backpacked. Then after a few weeks I put some coins in a payphone and called a few HR

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departments. Before long I’d swapped hiking, sailing and backpacking for suits and long hours in one of Auckland’s few skyscrapers.

Apart from my flatmate, I knew no one. Unlike in Hong Kong, there was no big expat scene that swept up new arrivals practically as they disembarked from a 747.

It was up to me to build myself a life. Pre Hong Kong I’d worked in London. There my only sport was white water kayaking, with kayaking on a canal in summertime, drills in a pool during winter evenings and weekends away to various rivers.

So one day after work I jumped on the internet, twiddled my thumbs whilst waiting for the dial

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“Leave Hong Kong, your lungs can’t cope with the pollution.”

Doctor

up connection to go through and sometime later, had the phone numbers and websites for Auckland’s kayaking

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clubs. One in particular stood out, Yakity Yak. I joined it.

Turning into a blob A year of working in Auckland went bye, a year when I’d had to study a programme my employer had put together and which was regarded by recruiters and competitor firms as being equivalent to doing a Masters in New Zealand taxation (yes, I admit it, I used to work in tax).

Every three of four weeks

Whilst an early adopter of ski helmets, having bought my first in 1998, I was a late dumper of bright all in one ski suits. Ski weekend with work colleagues.

I’d have to submit a stack of papers, papers where anything but an A on each essay, meant having to redo that essay. Still early on in the program I’d managed a few weekends away skiing, generally carpooling with work colleagues, once flying to South Island with another work colleague. In an attempt to save costs, accommodation was the most basic it could be, hostels when possible, once a shared house that was so decrepit, I’m amazed it hadn’t long since fallen down and thanks to another work colleague, once a warm, cosy, chalet.

The pressure of the program was such there was little time for kayaking or anything else until I took a two month break from studying in the summer. Then I kayaked, hiked (or tramped as the New Zealanders called it) and joined in a couple of boozy trips organised by work to watch the America’s Cup sailing.

I’d been given a year to finish the self-timed program. I had four months left and the toughest topics awaited

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my attention. Perhaps I should have changed my postal address to that of my desk at the office, for that’s where I now practically ‘lived’.

Nights and weekends were lost to reading tax legislation, tax cases and writing tax papers.

I wasn’t happy. My one ‘treat’ was walking to work through the Auckland Domain (a huge park) on a Saturday morning then buying a strong coffee and lemon tart to eat at my desk. I was so desk bound, my toned Hong Kong body was long gone, muscle having turned to flab. Then again what could I expect, for I wasn’t looking after myself, focusing solely on finishing the program on time. Easter kayaking across Lake Taupo and a couple of weekends off to marshall at adventure races, meant I only had to work harder, smarter and longer the following week to catch up on lost time.

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I’ve only snowboard ed one day, it was possibly the day I’ve laughed most in my life.

I have a fear of ropes and got in a real state when doing a mountaineering skills course. So the morning after the wedding of two friends in Sydney Australia, I did a one day abseiling course in Australia’s Blue Mountains.

Return of the weekend Qualification over, weekends were once again my own domain, a

The boyfriend of a friend of my friends had an apartment with a shared garden that overlooked the Sydney Harbour Bridge. My jaw dropped to my chest, on seeing the fireworks display at the end of the 2000 Sydney Olympics.

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good job too, for with Australian friends getting married in Sydney, another friend visiting from Hong Kong and a second Sydney trip planned for the 2000 Olympics, I had a lot planned. But weekends like those aren’t the norm. I needed to build a real life for myself, one that ensured I didn’t swap sitting on my bottom whilst staring at a computer screen, for sitting on my bottom whilst watching TV. Reenter Yak Canoe and Kayak Club.

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Building a life The club had access to a house in Taupo in the middle of New Zealand’s North Island. Who cared about the multi hour drive each way, the camaraderie which resonated throughout the house and the thrill of the white water, was worth the drive. Besides the drive gave me time to explore different bands, New Zealand bands, with Split Enz’s ‘Six Months in a Leaky Boat’ and ‘I Got You’ with its line “I don’t know why sometimes I get frightened” being

ironic favourites, for as I hit the white water rapid I often felt frightened and I certainly used to take on quite a bit of water in my boat, even if it weren’t actually leaky.

Yet, I didn’t quite belong in that house. For each weekend there were fewer pure kayakers and more wannabee adventure racers, mostly super-duper fit people, with a running and / or cycling background, all eager to learn to kayak so they too could do New’s Zealand’s legendary Coast to Coast race.

Practising white water skills with Yakity Yak Canoe and Kayak Club. I took this photo on that day when I couldn’t kayak, thanks to having injured my hand the previous day.

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Contrast that with me, an occasional hiker who could just about handle herself in grade 2 and occasionally grade 3 white water and who after a year of studying on top of work, was seriously unfit.

A secret longing Usually after a group cooked dinner, we lounged around and talked. As more wannabee adventure racers showed up, the talk became more and more about the Coast to Coast. How could I admit that I too secretly longed to do the Coast to Coast?

That three New Zealanders I’d known in London had told me about it, that the race had intrigued me so much, the Coast to Coast’s website was probably the very first website I looked up on multiple occasions?

Besides, what was I thinking? I didn’t even own a bike, ok technically I did, but it was over 15 years old and rusting in my father’s garage in the UK, whilst I was in New Zealand. I’d barely sat on a bike in the previous decade, let alone ridden in a group.

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Then one weekend someone brought along a video of a previous Coast to Coast. I couldn’t believe my eyes, for in that video there was a woman who looked and moved like I felt. I’d only ever imagined lean muscle strewn machines doing this sort of stuff. I hadn’t realised that overweight people could also have a go, that they may not win, but they too could cross the finish line grinning like a Cheshire cat having achieved their own personal goal. It was a total eye opener. I stared at the TV screen and quietly thought ‘if she can, so can I’.

Training starts It was July or August 2000 and I had six or seven months to get into the shape of my life.

Step number one, buy an entry level multisport kayak, as an ordinary white water kayak would be way too slow. Kayak shopping was the easy bit, all I had to do was phone up my canoe club and read out those 16 digits on my credit card.

Being a decent kayaker wouldn’t by itself though be enough for me to

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About the Coast to Coast In 2001, the year Jane did the Coast to Coast, the race was known as the Speight’s Coast to Coast. A few uberfit people did it in one day. The vast majority of first timers however, plus many veterans, did the same distance over two days. There was also the possibility of doing the two day race as a relay team, with one doing the kayaking leg and the other doing the mountain run leg. The cycling legs were shared between them.

For the two day race the distances were for day one, a 3km run, a 58km bike, a 26km mountain run (though it was an open secret that it was in fact much longer and more like 33km), and for day 2, a 15km bike, a 67km paddle including white water and a 70km bike. The race is now known as the Kathmandu Coast to Coast.

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Doing the Coast to Coast meant I needed to take every opportunity to train. So during the Christmas New Year break, rather than take a bus tour with my father (who was visiting) to Milford Sound, I went on an adventure tour that included kayaking. He took the regular tour which was better suited to him and got to see me and the other kayakers on the water at Milford Sound.

successfully complete the Coast to Coast. I also needed to handle what was then described as a 26km mountain run and the three cycling stages.

I started walking to or from work and occasionally jogged at lunchtime. Bit by bit I increased the jogging, seeking out the sea front and Auckland’s gorgeous parks. It was a start, but by itself, it certainly wasn’t going to be enough. The truth is, I had no idea how to train for something like the

“If she can, so can I.” Jane Harries

Coast to Coast. I’d never done a triathlon, never done a duathlon, never done anything multisport before. So, when one of my kayaking buddies told me how a whole load of them had signed up for a personalised coaching plan specifically designed for the Coast to Coast, I didn’t hesitate, I signed up, even if my eyes watered at the price for even the most basic programme.

That’s how one evening after work I found myself inside a pristine sport laboratory on Auckland’s North Shore. There my weight, height and fat measurements were taken. Next, they had me kitted up to all sorts of equipment as they tested my cardiovascular and lung capacity. The result

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came back saying I, then age 33, had the fitness of a middle aged jogger.

Looking back ok I guess 33 is the start of middle age. But at the time it felt like a kick to the guts.

The tester pointed at a graph and showed me where my fitness currently was and where I needed to take it. There was a big gap. I would need to work hard and smart if I was going to make it to the start and finish lines. No more making things up as I went along. I needed to follow the programme he designed for me, as closely as possible. Not more, not less, but as prescribed. That’s when I set my goals, to make it to the start line, to make it to the finish line, to be second last or better and, not to fall in during the kayak leg, for falling in during the kayak leg could make one hypothermic, or simply drain one of so much energy there was nothing left for the final bike leg.

Setbacks happen It happened on a Saturday evening. The day’s kayaking had gone well and I chose to follow

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it up with a jog along a dirt path by the river. A well-groomed dirt path is one of my favourite running surfaces, wet slimy wooden bridges less so. As I ran onto the bridge one of my feet slid from beneath me.

Instinctively I put out my hands to break my fall.

Stupid mistake. I really whacked my left hand. I lay there for a moment whilst assessing the damage, then breathed a sigh of relief, it was only my hand, not a leg or an ankle or an arm. I got up, tentatively walked to the other side then recommenced my run. It was so beautiful there down by the river, so what if my hand hurt.

Hidden inside thin thermal liner gloves, I assumed it must be grazed. But there’s a saying, ‘never assume, it only makes an ASS out of U and ME’.

Back at the house, I couldn’t turn the door handle. Later one of the trainee coaches noticed the swollen state of my hand. It bore more resemblance to a gorilla’s than a human hand.

Clearly there was no paddling for me on the Sunday.

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The Christmas New Year break also saw me go white water kayaking near Wanaka. Coincidentally, one of the other kayakers was a business partner of someone I knew in Hong Kong.

By now, September, all the kayakers knew I’d entered the Coast to Coast, for well, it was pretty obvious. To make the drive more sociable, three of us (Rachel, Chris and me) usually carpooled. Most Fridays as the motorway out of Auckland turned into a regular road, we’d phone ahead to a pub in Tirau, a small town which had become quite the place to go for antique hunters.

On the back of the antiques trade other businesses grew, hence our gastropub Friday night dinner was always savoured. We weren’t alone, other Taupo bound kayakers usually sat at nearby tables and wave us a hello. Whilst Friday nights made for superb food, Sunday night’s rush back to

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Auckland left no time for anything but cake from the petrol station where we filled up and swapped drivers. That particular Sunday night, with my hand more like a gorilla’s than a human’s I couldn’t drive. I couldn’t even hold the steering wheel.

That weekend it was only Rachel and me. She had to drive the whole way.

Back in Auckland my housemate took me to hospital.

For a week my bruised and battered hand was in a sling and all bandaged up. Still sore weeks later, they redid the x rays.

Oops, said the specialist, I should have been in a cast, but now there was no point, for it was too late.

I hadn’t been malingering, it wasn’t just

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Mount Ngauruhoe as viewed from Tongariro Crossing. It has been described as possibly the world’s best one day walk. Tongariro National Park is an UNESCO World Heritage site, recognised for both natural and cultural features. According to UNESCO “The mountains at the heart of the park have cultural and religious significance for the Māori people and symbolize the spiritual links between this community and its environment.”

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Co-driver on multiple trips to Taupo, teammate in the Head 2 Head, training buddy, highflier, inspiration and friend, Rachel McLauchlan – pictured on the Tongario Crossing during a training weekend away.

a sore hand, I’d broken a bone at the base of my thumb. No wonder I hadn’t been able to get the kayak off the roof of my car! On the upside, for the 4 weeks I drove around with a red and white 4.95 metre long kayak atop my metallic gold Mazda 6, other drivers always gave way to me at junctions.

Perhaps they feared my missile resembling kayak launching at them and flying through their windscreens, should I have to brake.

Get back on the horse

It was already November, just 3 more months to go when I finally made it back to Taupo. Only the instructors wouldn’t let me paddle that Saturday, for they knew there was something far more important which I needed to do, I had to buy a bike.

I however knew nothing about bikes, what to look out for, where to go.

Pete T (who’d set up the club) took charge, telling me to go to a particular shop in Taupo and to be sure I told them I knew him, for then they would definitely look after me.

Two of my kayaking

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friends, Kristina and carpool Chris added “get gears on the handlebars and Look pedals.”

The shop had three possible bikes. Option one was way too expensive and fancy for me. Option two was brand spanking new and had a triple chain ring.

Option three was around the same price as option two, but was second hand with a double chain ring. I tested options two and three, riding them around the street of Taupo. The second hand bike felt better so I bought it and got some

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Look pedals fitted onto my new toy, an Avanti Giro. That night Chris and Kristina wanted to check out my shopping.

As the garage door open and they saw it, both promptly and separately called out “that’s what I’ve got”!!!!! I hadn’t just got the same gears and pedals as them, but the whole same bike.

Clip in pedals I’d never ridden a bike with clip in pedals before.

I was terrified I’d fall off and be run over. Lucky for me, I then lived in a cul de sac with a gently bell end curve at one end and a roundabout half

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way along. As the road was going nowhere, it was quiet, very quiet, the perfect place to learn how to unclip. So the following Saturday I rode up and down the road and how good did it feel.

It felt great, until that is I tried to unclip from the cleat pedals. I certainly got to practice my turning skills as I frantically and desperately tried to unclip. But I couldn’t free my cycling shoes from the pedals. They were stuck. What was I meant to do, keep riding around this tiny circuit until I died of hunger, thirst or exhaustion? It felt like

forever before I finally managed to unclip for the first time.

I eventually mastered the art of unclipping on that flat empty cul de sac, so it was time utilise some time management skills by swapping driving to work, with cycling to work. Thank goodness for alert drivers, for without them, I wouldn’t be here today. You guessed it, I toppled over at the very first set of traffic lights I encountered in downtown Auckland. As if that wasn’t enough, the first time I tried to cycle up the mammoth hill outside work, (having

This page and opposite: Training on the mountain run section of the course in early December. That night my legs were in agony as I lay in my bed trying to fall asleep.

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previously pushed it), I again toppled over, as I’d misjudged its severity and my legs weren’t yet strong enough for the climb. As the gradient intensified my speed dropped. I desperately tried to keep my legs working, but they hadn’t yet turned into decent pistons. My best wasn’t good enough, I knew that. I had truly tried. All I could now do was limit the damage by trying to unclip before I came to a halt and fell off. Easier said than done. I went down, right in the middle of the road.

Rumour has it A rumour was now doing the rounds, it went along the lines that we needed to train on the course, to know what it was like, so that we knew we could handle each element, each hill, each rapid, each river crossing. That’s why in early December I flew down to Christchurch and checking into an youth hostel for the weekend. I wasn’t there though to do the regular backpacker stuff. I was there to test out the course.

Saturday morning saw 5 of us and a guide paddle

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down the river. I couldn’t believe it, the Waimakariri felt easy.

Was it the borrowed stable sea kayak that made it so, or was my kayaking albeit slow, technically good enough to handle the many miles of rapids which this river threw at us? After all, of the 5 of us, 3 had fallen in. I wasn’t one of those, neither was a fellow club mate of mine. Clearly Yakity Yak Canoe and Kayak Club was teaching us well.

Sunday night and back in my own bed in Auckland, my legs screamed with pain from the weekend’s activities. It was a wakeup call. How on earth was I meant to do all that and the cycling, in just two months’ time,

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for whilst the Waimakariri had felt easy, Sunday’s run / hike fording rivers, tramping and hauling ourselves up and over boulders, had been anything but. It had been the most physically demanding hike I had ever been on and it had hurt at the time, that night and the following day. In fact the following day I hurt so much, I wanted to go home from work and spend all day lying prostrate on my bed, only I couldn’t. I mean, how do you say, ‘I need to go home sick, I did too much exercise on the weekend’.

Time management Clearly jogging along Auckland’s waterfront wasn’t enough. I needed

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This page and opposite, a run hike near Wanaka during the Christmas New Year break.

to find the gnarliest terrain possible for my run / hike training and use the bike for basic fitness and speed work.

At least that was the plan, but I only lasted two spin classes, not at some fancy gym using peloton bikes, but in a basic hall using basic bike rack / trainers. I carried my road bike in and set it up amongst what I thought of as ‘the beautiful people,’ for each and every one of them looked like what I

then thought to be a perfect specimen of human anatomy. The first time I managed just about. The second time I basically collapsed midsession, having worked too hard for my own good. I ended up in a heap on the floor of the hall’s loos.

That was the end of me going to spin classes, it was back to a standard gym for me. That’s how I ended up watching the entire series of Friends,

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Survivor and Sex in the City, from an exercise bike and treadmill at the gym. For once in my life, I was successfully utilising time management. From the calories burned, I could also see I was working harder and getting fitter, for 600 calories burned in an hour became 700 and then, once, a few weeks before the race, over 800.

By now you may have gathered that training for the Coast to Coast had become all consuming.

Gone were the days of friends suggesting a night out at a comedy show, or the cinema, or some new restaurant. No longer did I chase invites to go sailing, skiing or sea kayaking. Now it was invites to go for a run, or a bike ride, or an endurance white water kayaking session.

Christmas was no exception, with a few of us arranging to meet up in South Island to kayak the Waimakariri between Christmas and New Year.

With the office shut between those dates, it was in fact a great chance to go exploring more of the South Island. My father was visiting so off

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we headed to Auckland airport for our flight down south, him with one small suitcase, me with a huge holdall containing stuff like my lifejacket, kayaking helmet, cycling helmet, cycling shoes and all the other paraphernalia, as well as ordinary clothes, plus a bike and a backpack. Let’s just say it was unwieldy!

Whilst my elderly father did some sightseeing, or rested, I ran, hiked, kayaked and biked. Then we met and let’s just say I ate with gusto. It was the perfect short holiday. He could do stuff, I could do stuff, and we got to spend time together too when we swapped stories. As for the Waimakariri, once again I paddled it without falling in. In fact, we all stayed dry, which was almost unheard of according to our guide. Kudos to our club and it’s coaching.

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roll in calm water. It worried me, so I went to a club session at a pool for some extra practice.

The coaches were aghast when I showed up “what are you doing, you should be tapering.” I explained how I wanted to practice my role but they wouldn’t let me roll saying “no, don’t risk your shoulders, stay safe, stay healthy, besides, you don’t need to roll if you have a good enough

Last minute panic There was one thing nagging at me, for with just weeks to go, I still hadn’t managed to roll my kayak in white water, though I was happy rolling it when I deliberately set up for a

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brace” (a kayaking stroke which stops you from falling in).

The coaches were right.

Serious training was over, now it was all about tapering, ticking over and staying safe. There was nothing more I could do.

It was time to pack for down south and head off for the race.

For part 2 of this story, please go to page 122

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Book Reviews Fjord’s Mountain Mission

By Caroline Elliott If you have an interest in skiing, mountains in general, or dogs, then you could well find this book of interest to you. We certainly did.

Whilst designed to teach children about mountain safety, it’s an interesting read for adults too, exploring as it does the life of the real life mountain rescue dog Fjord and his handler, Caroline.

Caroline is passionate about the importance of educating people regarding the mountain environment. What better way to educate us about the dangers of the mountains, than to do so in a fun, easy to read, brilliantly illustrated, picture book? This isn’t a Booker prize winning type book, nor is it a book that will keep you rivetted for hours on end. It is however an extremely entertaining and an interesting read. Plus reading it might just save your life, or the life of a loved one. As such, it is a very important book and well worth reading more than once.

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The Little Coffee Shop of Kabul

By Deborah Rodriquez This wasn’t going to be the book we reviewed, it was another that we started reading. Only we found that book to have so many difficult words, words that entailed our reading it with a dictionary to hand, we scrapped our idea of reviewing that book and what it shared about life in a certain part of the world. Yet we wanted to share with you our readers news of a book that went beyond the norms of our everyday life. Enter The Little Coffee Shop of Kabul, a book our editor first read in 2013.

This book is fiction, not something we’ve tended to review. It’s set in Kabul, Afghanistan during 2007 and is written by Deborah Rodriguez who lived in Kabul, from May 2002 to May 2007. She initially went there as part of an emergency medical team meant to help people. However, whilst disaster response trained, she wasn’t a medic. A hairdresser by profession Deborah realised the best way she could help the women of Afghanistan, was by giving them a safe place to socialise with each other and a trade they could practice and from which earn money.

She’s recounted her story in another book The Kabul Beauty School, which our editor has also read and loved.

The Little Coffee Shop of Kabul is an easy to read novel, which flows beautifully, but whoever said that good work needs to be written in complicated language? Not us for sure.

Given what has happened in Kabul since the

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novel was published, the author’s insights are extraordinary. It is in many ways a shame that world leaders and their civil servants couldn’t have foreseen what Deborah Rodriguez foresaw.

Our heart goes out to the women and girls of Afghanistan who have suffered so much, whose capacity to live life to the full is so restricted and whose ability to even attend high school and university is now thwarted.

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Adventures in the City

By Kate Capelli

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Is it possible to do adventure sports when you live in a city? That is something Kate Capelli has asked herself. Her answer, a resounding yes.

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hen I first moved back to London in 2020 after years of globetrotting I figured that this sprawling concrete jungle that I once called home would have nothing for me. Pre travels I loved my London life, touring quirky coffee shops and speakeasy bars, but during my years of travel I had developed a love of adventure pursuits, and had spent most of my weekends out on hikes or on the end of a rope at climbing gyms.

Canada. After my first session there I was hooked, but I still lacked enough friends to go with regularly. I just wasn’t as brave when I climbed alone minus the encouragement.

Previously when living in London I had set up different community groups for women with similar interests, so I figured I would do the same again. That's when Adventuress In The Wild was born. I used different social platforms to find anybody who might be interested in adventurous socials, and quickly learned that so many women were looking for exactly that.

Reasons beyond my control brought me back to London. My Dad was diagnosed with cancer and Alzheimer’s and needed help with his care. During the year between his diagnosis and passing I settled back into London life, finding a job at a travel agency and meeting my current partner. I found ways to make big city life more bearable for myself, by taking myself off on solo hikes in Surrey Hills and the South Downs, which turns out wasn’t too far away.

A lot of women who were joining the group were from other countries such as Germany or New Zealand, where they had lived very outdoorsy lifestyles, but work opportunities had brought them to London. Adventuress was giving those women a way to stay active whilst living city life.

When the community grew to 200 members I arranged our first event, Bouldering & Beer. In the beginning two or three people would come along, we would climb for only an hour and more often than not they would be too tired to continue on to the pub. The early days were difficult with the pandemic still controlling the way gyms would operate, so we would have designated time slots, and would be ushered out of the gym by a certain time.

During my travels I noticed that one of my old London pals had been posting a lot of climbing photos, and I mean really gnarly climbing photos! So I reached out and she arranged to take me bouldering in South London. We went to The Arch in Bermondsey, which was huge compared to the tiny bouldering section at the rope gyms I used during my time spent in

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Fast forward two years later and the community is now 2000 members strong. Bouldering & beer is still a weekly event that I run all year round, and admittedly the best part of my week! Our sessions are generally two hours long and now nine times out of ten we’ll end up in the pub riding high from the endorphins of the session.

We have some pretty die hard regulars for these sessions, who have bonded and formed a friendship circle from the Adventuress sessions, and for me they also feel like family. The sessions are firstly about socialising and secondly about the actual climbing itself. The camaraderie and energy sometimes feels electric, and we almost become child-like in our excitement when we are all pushing as a group to make it to the top of a route. Some of our Adventuresses started their climbing journey with us, and we have proudly watched them progress through the grades. I myself have become so hooked with bouldering that I am now working towards my Climbing Wall Instructor qualification. I can help more women get into the sport.

In London life can feel like it’s continually on fast forward, and with this we can sometimes feel like we are on sensory overload at all times. What climbing does for us is allows us to hone in on the moment. When you're up on the

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bouldering wall, with your right hand on a crimp, and your left foot on what is essentially a Lego brick, knowing that if you miss the next move you’ll fall, everything around you is drowned out, there is no space for the noise. For this the bouldering sessions are almost meditative, along with being so exhilarating, a combination that leaves you feeling alive in every sense.

Over beers everybody has the opportunity to speak about their lives, and of course climbing!….There is a lot of climbing chat… We’ve had Adventuresses really opening up about the stresses in their lives and how climbing is an escape for them, almost like therapy in a sense. Personally for me, with Adventuress as a first year business, I often feel overwhelmed with stress, and I couldn’t live without climbing, giving me an excuse to mentally pack it away, at least for a few hours.

My unease of living in London has very much subsided thanks to the amazing climbing community I have found here and how accessible the sport is. New bouldering gyms are now popping up at a rate of one every few months, to the point where it would be hard to find a borough without one. London now has more bouldering gyms than anywhere else in the country. In the last half of 2022 at least five gyms have opened across the city, and it shows no sign of slowing

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down as the demand for venues seems to grow and grow. This definitely makes up for the lack of outdoor climbing in the South East, finally we have something to brag about down here!

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I would struggle to think of another urban activity that could be more exhilarating than bouldering, especially one that comes with such a huge social community and culture. If you are reading this and thinking of giving bouldering a go, then I recommend finding a local community near you, either via Meetup or Facebook groups. The beauty of this sport is that you don’t need any equipment or course to enjoy it, just dive in and see how it feels.

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Finally, here are my personal top three tips for first time boulderers.

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over the initial shock of the height and start making progression.

Expect your forearms and skin on your hands to hurt like crazy. Don’t let it put you off, this is completely normal and doesn’t persist for long if you keep it up!

Do not convince yourself that you are not strong enough to climb.

When you start progressing through the levels you’ll soon learn that good climbing is more about technique and body positioning than strength. The great thing about climbing is that you’ll naturally build strength very quickly without even noticing because you’ll be having too much fun!

Go at least THREE times before you decide this sport isn’t for you.

This is usually all it takes to get

About Kate Capelli Kate is the founder of Adventuress in the Wild, which she set up after returning to London following spending time overseas.

If you’re living in London and would like to join us for one of their weekly bouldering session, you can find Adventures in the Wild via Meetup. www.meetup.com/adventuressinthewild Adventuress In The Wild also now run day hikes out of London and overseas adventure retreats.

You can follow Adventuress in the Wild on the following social media channels: Instagram:

www.instagram.com/AdventuressInTheWild

Website:

www.adventuressinthewild.com

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Is it possible to still be active after having children?

What if one of those children is still a babe in arms? Does that make a difference?

Not if your name is Sophie Ruffles.

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tanding in the water as the sun rose over the Solent, I could see the spire of the church in Ryde on the Isle of Wight.

‘That’s what you’ll be aiming for’ I’m told. ‘Until you see the pier, then you’ll be swimming to the beach to the left of that’.

The prestart line stress was not the usual lack of training/kit/travel worries.

It was a stress that only mothers to new babies will be familiar with.

As a mum to a 6 year old and a 5 month old, the first child was no problem. The second one however… he was the reason I was

Right. Except that it looked impossibly far away.

In truth, once I was in the water, which was a balmy 20°C and mercifully calm, with the sole goal of swimming across the Solent to Ryde, I just wanted to get swimming.

I can safely say that the journey to the start line was so stressful that the swimming would be the easy bit. Especially once I could see that I wasn’t going to be battling huge waves to get across. I just kept my fingers crossed there would be no jelly fish.

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swimming this year and had not swum the year before as planned.

I had been due to swim the Solent and then run the Isle of Wight Coast Path in September 2021. It had been a challenge I had set myself to combine my love of outdoor swimming and long distance running.

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leaving him for any length of time to train was tricky.

I’m lucky to live near a lake and my husband does shift work so as Joe grew bigger, I managed a few longer swims.

We were then lucky enough to go away for the whole summer. First to visit family in Sweden for 2 weeks and then 3 weeks in our motorhome in the Netherlands and Belgium. I thought I would get a lot of training done in those weeks but the demands of family and other issues such as jellyfish and currents meant that I was limited to a handful of one hour swims and most of them in lakes. Not ideal trading for a long sea swim.

However, I had postponed the swim when I fell pregnant as the thought of swimming with morning sickness was beyond me. It had also been a long three year journey involving 2 miscarriages and 2 failed rounds of IVF before I fell pregnant naturally and I did not want to risk another miscarriage, even though I knew that there was no real risk of the swim causing one. I had instead walked most of the coast

path in 2021 as a recce for a future run.

I was lucky to be able to swim through most of my pregnancy as Bristol Council provide free swimming for pregnant women and I am never one to shy away from a free fitness opportunity. I also continued to dip in cold water throughout the winter. Once Joe arrived swimming became more difficult. I couldn’t swim for the first 8 weeks and as he breast fed on demand, 54

I have been outdoor swimming all year round for 4 years now and have swum longer distances but only in rivers and lakes so swimming in the sea felt like a step up challenge wise. I am also not the fastest or strongest swimmer but I have dragged myself through enough endurance events, including a 100 mile bike ride and 100km run when my first boy was 4 months and then a year old, to know that I could push myself to finish.

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In the week before the swim Joe had decided to refuse a bottle which made leaving him for half a day a concern. He had also decided sleep was for wimps and was waking up every 2 hours. I know that the sleep the night before an event isn’t vital but I am pretty sure the sleep every night the week before is quite important, particularly when you have to get up at 4.30am to drive to the swim start.

In order to try to get some sleep my husband had a sleepless night trying to get Joe to take a bottle so I would get some shut eye.

I fed Joe at 4.30am and got on my way.

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swimmers that morning and each of us had our own kayaker who would guide and protect us on the crossing. There was also a support boat circling around the swimmers to keep us safe from other vessels.

The swim thankfully went better than could be expected. Once I put my head in the water I was comforted by the colour, it was the same aquamarine as the water at Church Ope Cove on Portland, where I swim when visiting my

When I got to Stokes Bay, the start point for the swim, I was relieved to find there were toilets which found me trying to hand express milk into the loo before the swim start.

I’m fairly sure my fellow swimmers weren’t having the same issues.

So you can see why the swim was the least of my concerns.

The swim is organised by Aspire, a spinal injury charity. As the Solent is a shipping channel you need permission and support to swim the 3 mile crossing. I was in group of 10 55

mum. It instantly put me at ease. After that I just got my head down and swam, keeping an eye on my kayak support who led me across the Solent and kept me safe from boat traffic.

It was a beautiful sunny day and occasionally a boat would come closer or I would see the ferry track between the island and mainland but I trusted my kayaker and the safety team and kept swimming.

The middle of the swim brought choppier water

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and larger waves but save for the odd rogue wave to the head, I kept swimming front crawl without feeling too sloshed about.

After nearly 2 hours the water visibility dropped.

I’d been told that there is a large sand bar at Ryde so I put a leg down to test the depth and found that the water was less than waist deep. I stood up. I’d swum across the Solent to the UK’s largest island. I was so relieved that I had made it. I felt that I had put so much pressure on myself to do the swim despite the difficulties that finishing it was just pure relief and a level of pride that I had managed it despite all the odds.

To return home to children after an event or adventure means little time to process what you have achieved and to rest. But it gives me a sense of confidence that I can continue to achieve despite the obstacles and hopefully, one day… my boys will be inspired by what I have done. It was lovely to come home to find my oldest son had

been tracking me across the Solent.

I really enjoyed the swim but while I love the water, my heart is with running rather than swimming. So the next challenge is to run the Isle of Wight Coast Path

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in one go. That said, I love to push myself out of my comfort zone so if an adventurous swim grabs my attention, I may just do it.

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About Sophie Ruffles Sophie Ruffles describes herself as a mum, runner, cyclist, paddle boarder and wild swimmer. She’s also the host of the What Next Mum Podcast, where she interviews adventurous and inspiring mums and which can be found on most platforms You can follow Sophie on the following social media channels: Instagram: www.instagram.com/ruffles_onthemove Website:

www.whatnextmum.com

If you are impacted by fertility issues, miscarriage, and IVF, Sophie has suggested you might find good information and support available from the charities Tommys and the Miscarriage Association.

Website:

www.tommys.org

Website:

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What A Woman Award Feature

H

aving started their journey on 23 November 2015 in Ushuaia, Argentina, on 24 August 2022, some 18,221 miles, plus 6 years and 9 months later, Bethany ‘Fidgit’ Hughes and Lauren ‘Neon’ Reed, known collectively as Her Odyssey, paddled into Tuktoyaktuk, NWT, Canada.

engage with local people and the landscape.

It was important to both Bethany and Lauren that they connect with and learn from the locals, and that they travelled having regard to the locals, their land and their ways of life. Contrast that behaviour with so many tourists who unfortunately seem to simply stand, stare and take photographs, treating locals as if they were animals in a zoo and their customs quaint relics from a bygone age to be discussed at dinner parties on returning home. Contrast too with tourists who out bid locals and buy up scant properties, then turn them into holiday homes, which in time drives out locals, their traditions even native language, and leaves places as near ghost towns out of tourist season. It makes us think, when we travel, do we visit, learn and spread the message, or do we stare, impose and conquer?

During that time, they hiked, bikepacked, kayaked, paddled and rafted across 14 countries in multiple legs, ranging in elevation from below sea level to 18,000 feet.

Some may ask why did their journey take so long? But Bethany and Lauren’s journey wasn’t about setting a speed record, or getting to their destination as fast as possible, nor was it simply for the experience or the way of life. They had a far wider goal, a goal which is often overlooked by people who head into the great outdoors, including unfortunately, by many hikers and bikepackers. For central to Her Odyssey’s goal was a mission to redefine how the outdoor sport and long-distance communities

Whilst Bethany and Lauren had a plan for their journey, talking and learning from the locals led to them changing their precise route on several occasions. Their South American journey too three hiking

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seasons and also included a few weeks rafting on Peru’s Maranon River. Their time hiking included both the new Greater Patagonian Trail and the ancient Qhapaq Ñan across the Andes.

Going from Colombia in South America to Panama in Central America entails crossing the Darien Gap, an area which is legendary for its remoteness, wildness and difficulty. It is also dangerous, with not just robberies but also murders taking place. According to World Vision:

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The beginning, mile zero, November 2015

Bethany (Fidgit) Hughes giving a school talk, Salta, Argentina

“The Darién Gap is a roadless, lawless stretch of mountainous rainforest straddling Colombia and Panama. For centuries, it’s held the reputation of being virtually uncrossable, by locals and well-equipped visitors alike.”

Bethany / Fidgit interviewing Quecha Women - Cholitas

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Neon Volcano on Greater Patagonian Trail

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A few years later, camping at the High Point of the Great Divide Trail, Canada

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Bikepacking, Aguascalientes, Mexico

Tropic of Cancer, Mexico

Hiking Qhapaq Ñan, Peru

Bikepacking resupply, Mexico

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Whilst a few people might see this as a challenge and indeed some tourists have crossed it for the Darien Gap wasn’t always this dangerous (in 1992 our 50 something editor almost joined a commercial tour operated by an UK based company and which crossed the Darien Gap), the past is the past and today, attempting this approximately 60 mile stretch is for the desperate and the stupid.

journey. Her Odyssey wanted to attempt it and initially did try, but realising the true situation, they stopped. Their blog on the Darien Gap makes for interesting and worthwhile reading, it’s a real eye opener. Hopefully others who may seek to cross the Darien Gap for pleasure, can learn from Bethany and Lauren’s experience.

Central America saw the team paddle the first 1,000 miles and then take to their bikes. For the USA section in 2019 Bethany and Lauren opted to travel independently, with Bethany hiking the Continental Divide Trail to the Canadian border, and Lauren who had already hiked that trail, choosing to bikepack the remote and rugged Western Wildland route. Like most people the 2020 Covid 19 pandemic scuppered their plans but by August 2021 Bethany and Lauren were able to recommence their journey, this time hiking Canada’s Great Divide Trail.

Early 2022 saw them returning to Central America to bikepack a section they’d previously had to miss due to safety concerns and then in the late spring early summer, as ice melted on Canada’s rivers, Bethany and Lauren were able to start their final segment, utilising First Nations’ river routes as they paddled to Tuktoyaktuk on Canada’s far north coast.

For the desperate, those with nothing and feel forced to cross the Darien Gap in search of a better life, World Vision have reported that according to Jean Gough, UNICEF director for Latin America and the Caribbean “Deep in the jungle [of the Darién Gap], robbery, rape and human trafficking are as dangerous as wild animals, insects and a lack of clean water.”

UNICEF itself states at https://www.unicef.org.uk/fifteen-timesmore-children-crossing-the-panamajungle-towards-the-usa-in-the-last-fouryears/ “The Darien jungle, between Colombia and Panama, is one of the most dangerous routes in the world due to the mountainous terrain, wildlife and insects, as well as the presence of criminal organizations. Migrants who are trapped inside are exposed to multiple threats, including death. In this context, women, especially pregnant women, along with children and adolescents are the most vulnerable. At the end of last year, the first cases of sexual violence against children have been reported.”

For their resilience, for their support of the locals, and for their common sense in sharing through their blog why the crossing the Darien Gap should not be attempted, we think Bethan and Lauren, aka Her Odyssey, are worthy winners of our latest Adventure She magazine What A Woman Award.

Despite this terrible situation, some travellers have continued to attempt the

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Bethany paddling across the Arctic, 2022

2022 paddling into Tuktoyaktuk

Lauren paddling in the Arctic, 2022

August 2022, finished. In the office at the hamlet of Tuktoyaktuk

How to contact Bethany ‘Fidgit’ Hughes and Lauren ‘Neon’ Reed, aka Her Odyssey, on social media Website:

www.Her-Odyssey.org

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/_herodyssey_/ YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/c/HerOdyssey Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/herodyssey/ Twitter:

https://twitter.com/Her_Odyssey

You can also read Bethany’s article on Machu Picchu and the Inca Trails in the March 2019 issue of Adventure She magazine available at www.adventureshe.com/subscribe If you are interested in learning more about the Darien Gap, you may wish to read the following: https://www.worldvision.ca/stories/child-protection/darien-gap-migrant-route

Photo Credits All photos accompanying this award were kindly provided by Bethany ‘Fidgit’ Hughes and Lauren ‘Neon’ Reed, collectively known as Her Odyssey.

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A Quechua family who gave us a place to sleep, Bolivia

Fidgit walking with Aymara Woman, Bolivia

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Bethany Hughes (Fidgit) left, Lauren Reed (Neon) right Photo credit for this picture, Fede Cabrera

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Adventure She Magazine’s December 2022 What A Woman Award

Bethany (Fidget) Hughes and

Lauren (Neon) Reed collectively known as

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Packrafting Iceland

By Leanne Dyke Photographs courtesy of Leanne Dyke and Neil Cox, unless otherwise stated

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We were flipping through Instagram when we came across a few guys who’d completed some serious adventures in Iceland. We contacted one of them and asked him if he knew of a woman who’d done something similar. That’s how we got introduced to Leanne Dyke.

Leanne Dyke is possibly the most modest of all the adventurers we’ve featured in Adventure She, for Leanne doesn’t usually write about her adventures, nor does she post about them on social media for everyone to see. We’re privileged that Leanne has agreed to write this article for us.

Objective As horizontal snow whipped me in the 70kph

winds, I wondered if I’d been clear enough to my partner Neil, about where I

Photo courtesy of Ben James

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wanted to go on our next ‘holiday’.

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The dots with the yellow and blue markers show the route taken by Leanne Dyke and Neil Cox

After years of miserable suffer-fest expeditions all over the world, he’d clearly had a rare moment of guilt and asked what I would like to do as a real holiday? I knew the answer immediately, seeing the Northern Lights has always been a dream of mine and despite countless trips to Norway during the winter, I’d never experienced it.

scale. Instead, there was a different objective.

Our plan was to traverse Iceland from North to South. But rather than hike, bike, or even use

The five of us at the start in Akureyri.

Yet Neil’s interpretation somehow ended up with us in Iceland during the middle of June and 24hr daylight, so my chance of experiencing the Aurora Borealis was at the ‘none’ end of the ‘slim-to-none’ 71

horses, we’d combine hiking with packrafting Iceland’s longest river, the 230km Þjórsá. We estimated that unsupported, so with no resupplies, it would take us

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two weeks. If we succeeded, we believed it would be the first recorded source-to-sea descent of the Þjórsá, with me also being the first recorded woman to complete a packraft traverse of Iceland.

The only explanation I can offer for this new objective

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is that ‘it seemed like a good idea at the time’.

Planning Before heading off we tried to learn as much as we could about the Þjórsá.

Alas none of the Icelandic kayakers we contacted could provide us with detailed information on its upper sections. As far as 72

the actual paddling was concerned, we were in virgin territory. We did however know that to traverse Iceland, we’d have to hike for several days to the source of the Þjórsá River.

Other Icelandic packrafting expeditions we’d come across had either arranged

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Photo courtesy of Neil Irwin

for their packrafting equipment to be delivered to the start of the river, meaning less weight to carry on their hike to the put in, or had mainly trekked and done little packrafting. Being unsupported from start to finish meant that from day 1, we’d be carrying everything we needed to

hike, paddle and survive in Iceland for over 2 weeks.

The unwieldy shape and weight ruled plastic kayaks out of this expedition. That left packrafts.

down grade IV rivers, and fewer still doing that with lightweight minimalistic gear and a 15kg bag strapped to the front of the boat.

Although vastly more popular now, at the time of our trip (2017) there weren’t many people in the world taking packrafts

A week before we headed off to Iceland we went to an artificial white water course at Holme Pierrepont in the UK, to try packrafts

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The Icelandic Plateau, photo courtesy of Neil Irwin

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for the first time. It turned out packrafts are to kayaks what chalk is to cheese. I found the on water movement sensations you normally tune into whilst on the water were totally different, the hip straps didn’t work and I was too short for my feet to reach the end of the boat. All in all it felt like I was trying to control a lilo, with a hole in it, during a washing machine cycle. Neither of us could really roll the boats in the rapids and in remote Iceland, that could be a problem. To say our I was nervous after our time

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at HPP, is an understatement.

The trek It took us 4 and a half days to walk from the coastal town of Akureyri to the source of the Þjórsá. Three friends also hiked this section (and then continued to hike across Iceland). However, they and us operated totally independently in terms of food and equipment. Oh how jealous I was of their small, neatly packed rucksacks. With nearly 35kg (or about 77 pounds) of kit and food crushing my shoulders and rubbing

mercilessly at my hips, I was already up for dumping the packrafts and walking the whole way.

Nevertheless, as the buoyancy aid strapped to my bag smacked me in the face for 28th time, I couldn’t help but admire the beauty and wilderness all around me.

As we ascended up to the interior plateau our speed, along with any colour and abundance of wildlife, slowly ebbed away. The sun though was at its zenith, for it was mid-June, summer. Yet the word ‘summer’ can be misleading

Day 3 of the hike towards the source of the Þjórsá, photo courtesy of Neil Irwin

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Editor’s tip – Note Leanne’s headnet. Whether it’s Iceland, Australia, Scotland, South America or somewhere else, it’s often worth carrying a headnet in case one encounters nasty biting insects, which can truly drive one half demented.

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Photo courtesy of Ben James

in Iceland and it was still snowing. We couldn’t wait though for later in the season, as we needed to catch the Þjórsá before the water level and kayaking difficulty rose with the summer glacial melt.

To the untrained eye and with fresh dusting, the terrain looked like a beautiful blanket of soft white snow. Beneath this unassuming surface though lurked waterlogged, rocky, quicksand, that sucked us down to our shins. With each step we had to fight to retain our shoes. We called it ‘The Gloop’ (old horror film buffs may recognise The Blob reference there).

Whilst we won the battle of the shoes, with each of

those steps we felt the Gloop snatch at our motivation. We ended up walking far greater distances than planned, as we island hopped between patches of harder rock, in an attempt to keep something of ourselves from the ever sucking snatching snaring Gloop.

Getting on the water Back to those 70kph winds, horizontal snow and deep reflection on my life choices. I didn’t feel equipped for these kinds of temperatures.

Mountaineering Leanne would have been encased in layers of cosy down clothing and several pairs of gloves. But that wasn’t 78

possible with kayaking and trying to keep the rucksack weight down for the hike.

A negative attitude wouldn’t however help me.

I needed to think positively so I could be at my best. So as I inflated my kayak and strapped my heavy bag to the front, I gave myself a good talking to. I told myself how lucky I was to be here, to have the outdoor expedition experience to take on something like this, to have a team mate as experienced as Neil, to be a real team. Neil hadn’t forced me. It was my choice to be here and I’d done the training. To be here, or to be sat behind my desk? Whilst I enjoy

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my work, like most people I also thrive from having a break from work. This was my break. My holiday.

Id almost convinced myself it was a great day, so I joined Neil at the water’s edge, but the river gods were not on my side. The ice shelf collapsed under my additional weight plunging us and all our kit into the glacial water. It was only knee deep with minimal current but it was not a good omen, we were already wet and hadn’t even sat in the packrafts yet.

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Character Traits It is during these kinds of events that mine and Neil’s approach to expeditions differ. It takes a lot to deter Neil, he merely shrugs his shoulders and gets on with it, pointing out the positive and offering solutions. I on the other hand am a lot more, passionate shall we say. I need a moment to sulk like a teenager or to tantrum like a toddler. Neil’s positivity only made be more agitated.

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snow, my mood cleared and we headed off.

Packrafting No words could do the scenery justice, it was simply stunning, and being on the water rather than looking down from a mountain was like nothing I’d experienced before. The river thundered down the pathways it had carved in the landscape, over and under glorious snow and ice formations. In numerous place the entire river sumped underneath massive snow bridges and as tempting as it was to travel through some of

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these larger ones, the prospect of certain death kept our risk assessments in check.

gear and started a brisk walk following the river’s course to find deeper waters.

The amount of portaging around these siphons and shallow water patches resulted in us only covering about 2km in nearly 3 hours. It wasn’t really navigable at this point, we were walking through most of it so that the inflatable packrafts didn’t scrape and puncture on the riverbed.

We soon realised that this was the right decision, only very short parts of it were deep enough to packraft and we crawled into the tent that night with hot Nalgene bottles clinging to the believe that tomorrow would be better.

We were dangerously cold, I hadn’t been able to feel my hands or feet all day. So we swallowed our pride, packed up all the paddling

The next day took us down calmer waters and we took the opportunity to play around with the packrafts’ outfitting and finding better ways to secure our rucksacks to the front

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before we hit the start of the rapids, as a heavy, unsecure pack wobbling around in the middle of a rapid would make the boat uncontrollable.

Practice had paid off and we sailed through the big volume grade III/ IV rapids.

However, I got too complacent and just before the end of the day I lost control and capsized. The heavy rucksack on the front acted as an anchor making it impossible to roll despite my best attempts.

As I felt a trickle of water impregnate the neck of my drysuit, I knew the most

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important thing was to get out of the icy river and to the bank so I pulled my deck and left Neil with the fun job of chase boating and dragging the packraft to shore – the trip was his idea after all.

The following days saw the volume and width of the river increase dramatically.

The current was surprising fast for a river with so little gradient, you had the feeling of being whisked along by a powerful force easily travelling at 7-8mph with no effort whilst at the same time knowing that

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any minute that same force could crush you under the volume of water.

Many of the rapids were committing, through minigorges and with few eddies, it was difficult to inspect lines. Despite Neil’s usual confidence I could see him doubting himself to lead.

Regardless of what Neil states, I am positive that my loud, off-key, repetitive singing gave him the perfect distraction from his inner saboteur that he needed and we carefully threaded our way down the river, managing to paddle

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loads of great grade III to IV/IV+, including some of the majestic waterfalls that dominate Iceland’s landscape.

Gradually we dropped height and the monotonous landscape of grey gave way to greens and purples.

Iceland slowly came alive as first insects, then birds and finally horses appeared on the horizon.

We hadn’t noticed the lack of life for the several days we’d been in the interior, but now the sudden noise and movement made me realise that (except the

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inevitable reappearance of midges - I had not, and never will, miss midges!) how much I’d missed other life forces. The midges easily matched the notorious midges of Scotland. They got everywhere, in your dinner, eyes, ears and other areas that are only accessible during moments of natural bodily functions. I was particularly glad that the GoPro was out of battery when Neil attempted to film my ‘drying dance’ after a wash in the river as I ran about wearing nothing but my headset trying to avoid

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midges and dry off as quickly as possible.

Over the following days big volume rapids and waterfalls continued to occupy us. The feeling of bounces over the big waves was exhilarating and reminded me of the exciting days I’d spent paddling on Nepali rivers.

Although I portaged a couple of waterfalls that Neil ran, I was proud of myself for what I had achieved with less than a year of kayaking experience under my belt. But soon we had arrived at the final rapid on the river. Just 85

above route 1, Iceland’s ring road, the Þjórsá accelerates into a narrow grade IV gorge. Waiting at the bottom is Uriðafoss, Iceland’s most voluminous waterfall. We inspected a lot of this gorge by foot, seeing that the hardest rapids were at the start we decided to run the gorge, rationalising that, if needed, we would have time to implement any rescues well before the waterfall.

The gorge started well, sailing through the grade IV and we were into easier grade III waters when I

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capsized. To this day I don’t know why it happened, all I can assume is that despite the rapids being easier, there was a little voice in my head reminding me that I needed to get out before I hit the huge waterfall and that caused me to rush my strokes.

Neil guided me to the banks then peeled off to chase boat but breaking out into the current he immediately capsized.

I saw him attempt to roll but the waves looked too big and he disappeared out of my sight as he was pulled along by the

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intensity of the current. I scrambled to the top of the cliff running along looking for any sign of him or his boat but there was nothing.

So many thoughts started running through my brain, we have both completed many remote expeditions and obviously things go wrong but we’d never had any serious incidents or injuries, was this about to change? Had we finally pushed our abilities too far?

After what felt like an eternity, and I’d already began contemplating where I’d filed the copy of 86

Neil’s will, his head popped up at the end of the bank.

Looking bedraggled and very sorry for himself we took a moment to sit, regroup and contemplate our next steps. How far had our boats gone? After the waterfall it was a straight run to the Ocean and they may never be seen again.

Post another mini toddler tantrum I pulled myself together and we set off on a boat hunt. This time it seemed the river gods were finally on our side, Neil’s boat was stopped in an eddie just down river and mine was bobbing away

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innocently in a pool at the bottom of Uriðafoss completely intact as though nothing had happened.

After a great deal of scrambling down banks we eventually managed to collect all our equipment.

Fortunately, we’d only lost one rucksack raincover between us and our triple dry bagging system had actually kept everything important dry. We decided to call it a night and retreat out of the wind into our tent where I had the deepest night’s sleep so far.

The following morning we decided to put back on above Uriðafoss where we had capsized to ensure we did the river in full.

Scrambling that 1 kilometre back up river in a drysuit carrying all our kit was the

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hottest I’d been all trip and the first time I’d sweated in over a week. I never thought I’d be so glad to get back on the river to redo the rapids and feel cold again.

Below Uriðafoss the river was almost entirely flat and braided out into many channels as it neared the sea. After the adrenaline rush of the waterfall and the swim the previous day it was difficult to find the motivation to paddle this cold monotonous section.

For hours we paddled, grazing over sand banks and admiring the seals playing alongside us when finally the mouth of the Þjórsá came into sight. It had been a long and challenging trip, harder than expected and

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definitely colder but we’d also managed to paddle far more of the river than anticipated.

As we stared out to the Atlantic it was grey, miserably cold, wet and windy but that was fitting and epitomised our journey. Whilst contemplating what I was going to eat first, a cheeseburger or steak? I reflected back on those life choices that had led to the last 2 weeks. Apart from the achievement what had I learnt? Firstly, that my mental resilience went far beyond what I believed it could handle and secondly, if I want a trip to see the Northern Lights, I need to book it myself!

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About Leanne Dyke Leanne Dyke is one of those amazing women who whilst she doesn’t do social media, she has very kindly agreed to share her story with us. In so doing Leanne reminds each one of us that we can still learn new skills and then work our way up to epic adventures involving those skills. Prior to this expedition in 2017, even though she only started kayaking the previous year (2016), Leanne had already completed kayaking expeditions in Montenegro (June 2016) and Nepal (March 2017), plus a multiday sea kayak halfway around Sardinia (October 2016). If it wasn’t for limited annual leave, that Sardinia trip would have been an entire circumnavigation.

That’s what we like about Leanne, she goes for her goals, and even if she can’t always do everything she would like to do, she does the most she can possibly achieve. Leanne, and Neil too, you rock.

Photo courtesy of Neil Irwin

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Photography Tips Words and photographs

By Harriet Corp

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Capturing Iconic Photos

By Harriet Corp

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Death Valley, USA With a love of capturing a photo on my travels, when I have a trip planned, I turn into a research queen. Planning our American road trip was no exception. With only one day to explore Death Valley National Park, we were on a tight schedule, as we wanted to cram in all the best bits, including watching a spectacular sunrise.

Our day started at 5am as we made our way into the National Park and headed to Zabriskie Point, a popular destination for an early morning light show. It was a short walk from the car and there were plenty of others that had made the voyage to this well-known destination, including lots of photographers with their tripods and fancy equipment. All I had was my trusty, beat up Fujifilm that had been with me on so many adventures. What it lacked in spec, it made up for with memories.

As the sun came up, the crowd sat in silence, all in awe of the sunlight slowly moving over the strange shaped, coloured rock formations. It was my first glimpse of Death Valley and I could not wait to see what else it had in store for us.

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Nesscliffe Hill, UK completely different. This photo taken on my Fujifilm XT4 was in the early days of understanding the manual settings on my camera.

Although I wish they were shooting stars, the moving planes in the shot bring a different element to the photo making the clear, peaceful skies more dramatic. For those that appreciate manual settings- ISO 160, F/5.6, 1/2000 – no flash used.

My local hill has been my saviour over the last two years. When lockdowns hit, I could escape to this little pocket nature to fill my adventure cup. I often open my curtains in the morning and if there is the slightest tinge of pink or low hanging cloud, a flask of coffee is made and I set off on my ebike to be at this spot 15 minutes later.

I have so many photos of this spot at sunrise and each one looks

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Working in photography In 2022 I decided I wanted to start doing more than photos of my own adventures. I have had the pleasure of working with some fantastic female adventure businesses, taking photos but also having a great time along the way.

SUP Lass approached me to take photos of a new paddleboarding experience that she was launching, ‘SUP + Cook’. For this I got to spend the day on my paddleboard, enjoying an array of delicious, locally sourced, seasonal treats.

Trail Divas host women only guided mountain bike rides and I was lucky enough to photograph these awesome ladies enjoying the sun in Snowdonia. As this was ‘work’ and the shots were needed, I whizzed ahead on my ebike to get into position, the smiles really do say it all!

This photo was taken on my Fujifilm XT4 and edited in Adobe Photoshop.

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Aiguille Du Midi, France

before we were due to leave (with our insect repellent already packed!) France and the UK announced the easing of restrictions and with that we decided to cross the channel with very little planning.

We hadn’t planned to go to France.

It was 2021 and travel restrictions were playing havoc with our plans and we had settled on the safe bet of Scotland. However, the week

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After a few days of downhill mountain biking in Morzine, my legs needed a rest, so this photo required minimal effort by taking the cable car to Aiguille Du Midi at 3842m. I love how this photo shows the ant-like humans hiking up the

ridgeline, with the dark dramatic mountains that contrast against the crisp white snow. This photo was taken on my iPhone 12 mini, with a wide angle and edited in Lightroom.

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Lac Blanc, France I was desperate to see an Ibex. I had made it up to the lake without seeing any up close, just mere moving dots in an immense landscape. On the way down, however, they were everywhere! We even got to see two go head to head in a battle of the horns which was just brilliant to witness. In my excitement, there were plenty of missed opportunities, mostly capturing an Ibex’s behind!

Then the stars aligned and I got my shot on my iPhone 12 mini.

On the same trip to Chamonix previously described, we hiked up to Lac Blanc which really should be a bucket list hike for anyone visiting the French Alps. An eight-mile round trip with superb alpine scenery and views over to the impressive Mont Blanc Massif on a clear day. We set off in heavy fog which thankfully cleared to allow us to sit in awe by the water’s edge and take in the breath-taking view.

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Matterhorn, Switzerland lake trail, a six mile loop taking in beautiful lakes with the Matterhorn always lurking in the distance.

Visiting Zermatt, Switzerland had been one of the highlights of a sixweek road trip in our campervan, where my partner and I had managed to mix work with pleasure.

We had two days to explore the picturesque village that lies at the base of the mighty Matterhorn, meaning we had to cram in as much as possible. We visited Glacier Paradise, where thirty-eight 4000m summits can be seen, along with fourteen glaciers. We walked the five

My personal favourite, however, was the Gornergrat railway, the first fully electrified cog railway. This photo taken on my iPhone 12 mini, was just a few minutes’ walk from the busy station, but I could have sat there for hours soaking up the sun staring at the majestic Matterhorn in the distance.

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Tre Cime Di Laverado, Italy The Dolomites had been high up on my list of places to visit for as long as I could remember. On our European road trip over the summer, this dream was finally realised. We had such a short time to explore and research pointed me to the famous Tre Cime di Laveredo. We walked a 10km loop round these mesmerising peaks to see them from every angle, the photos do not even show how epic these ‘natural three peaks’ are.

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There is a (very expensive!) paid private road that is used to access the area, which includes parking right at the base of the peaks, overnight if you wish. We had mainly used free allocated parking spaces on our trip up until this point and my eyes watered at the cost. That said, I would 100% recommend it. It meant we had the most beautiful sunrise from our home on wheels the next morning and were able to walk to the Cadini di Misurina viewpoint, another photographers bucket list location.

This photo was shot on my Fujifilm XT4 and is one of my favourites of this trip, with my partner taking in the view it shows the sheer scale of the peaks towering high above him.

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Dinorwig Quarry, Wales Dinorwig Quarry and the Anglesey barracks form part of the Slate Landscape of North Wales UNESCO World Heritage site listing, which was awarded in July 2021. The 2021 listing specifically refers to Welsh culture and the Welsh language, which UNESCO recognised as an indigenous language in 2019.

Dinorwig Quarry stretches high above Llanberis, in the heart of Eryri National Park (once known as Snowdonia National Park). It was at one time the second largest slate quarry in Wales.

When quarrying started in the 1780’s, most of the quarrymen were local and Welsh speaking. But as the quarry expanded and life became harder for those trying to making a living from the land, men travelled from further afield, including many from Ynys Môn (Anglesey).

This photo shows the ruins of the Anglesey barracks. To get the shot, I clambered up a wet, slippery bank with my Fujifilm XT4, clinging onto the mossy tree to get the angle I was after. The green of the moss on the trees, the shiny granite and slate and the misty clouds add to the eerie atmosphere.

Huts sprouted up to house the workers (the majority of which were still Welsh speaking), then in the 1870’s two rows of 11 cottages, known as barracks, were built.

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Llyn Stwlan and held on for dear life on the white-knuckle ride down!

Llyn Stwlan is a mountain reservoir at an elevation of 510m, nestled right on the edge of the Snowdonia National Park. Stwlan Dam and the reservoir are situated at the foot of Moelwyn Mawr and Moelwyn Bach, the mountains protectively surrounding the glistening water.

As we skirted round the back of the reservoir on foot, we were able to see it from every angle.

This is one of my favourite photos, taken on my GoPro Hero 8 on a wide angle to ensure all the best bits were in one shot.

The road up the dam, which is closed to vehicles, is two miles long and has six hairpin bends.

Prior to taking this photo I had cycled up this on my road bike

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Post Isolation Ride It was the first outing for my partner and I after a period of isolation due to Covid.

The ground was crisp with a frost and the forecast had shown the potential for a promising sunrise. With a flask of coffee and down jackets packed, we set off in the dark, feeling the joy of being free as we rode bikes up our local hill.

The outcome of this shot was a complete surprise. I set up my GoPro Hero 8 on its tripod whilst my partner enjoyed his brew and the view. I selected the 10 second timer and ran towards him with coffee in hand and the only instruction of “get ready for the photo”. We had no idea until we got home that it had captured a loving moment between us and with an awesome backdrop.

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About Harriet Corp Harriet Corp describes herself as a life enthusiast that loves to embrace all the great outdoors has to offer. Whether that is hiking in the mountains, plunging myself into cold water for a wild swim, going full speed on a downhill mountain bike or leisurely paddling on my SUP- you name it, she will give it a go, always with a camera to hand.

Her day job sees Harriet providing training in Positive Behaviour Support, working with individuals with learning disabilities that may show behaviours of concern. Any free time she has is spent outdoors.

Over the last few years Harriet has been using Instagram to share photos of her own adventures.

You can follow Harriet on these social media channels: Instagram: www.instagram.com/harri__adventuremedia Website: www.hcadventuremedia.com

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Driving v Bikepacking

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What is the hardest part of adventuring?

In this article, Harri Corp (yes the same Harri who’s the amazing photographer that’s shared lots of her photo secrets in the previous article in this issue) explores that exact question.

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hen the idea hit me, it flew into my brain with such force it made me tingle and feel a little bit sick. Despite the idea coming from my own head, another part of my brain doubted myself, questioning “Could I cycle there?”.

I was attending a volunteers weekend, with a women’s adventure community at Oakraven Field Centre in the Forest of Dean. It would take me 2 hours to drive there covering about 80 miles. As I had already booked some annual leave days for just before, I decided to head down early to check out the local area. That’s when, like a bolt out of the blue, the idea of cycling there came flying at me.

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Editor’s note: If you haven’t already read it, check out The Chimp Paradox by Prof Steve Peters. It’s been so popular in

I replayed the question in my head “Could I cycle there?”. In that moment my mind whirred with logistics and possibilities, I felt excited at the prospect of my two legs and my bikes two wheels getting me to my destination. Then fear set in, the excited voice in my head was replaced with an angry “no, no, no. There is no way you can do that, it’s way too far, it’s way too dangerous”.

Just like that the excitement fizzled away and I tried to pretend the idea had never even entered my head. I had let fear stop me. Someone once told me a way to think about this fear that sets in, saying “it’s like a monkey that sits on our shoulder, telling us that we can’t do

the adventure community as a means of helping with mindset, that again and again we’re hearing analogies about various

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something. We have to punch that monkey!”1 I decided to give that monkey of mine a gentle nudge, but kept my grand ideas to myself. Instead of seeking out advice or tips from others, over the next few months I quietly researched, exploring route options on my phone and maps laid out on my living room floor. Once I had a route that I was happy with and the campsites planned, it felt like I had come too far to go back. I had to do the ride, or at least give it a go!

The plans filled my thoughts, each time filling my tummy with fluttering butterflies. I had done many different adventures before but doing this solo over a few days and leaving from my back door, somehow added to the forms of primates sitting on one’s shoulder.

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anxiety. I tentatively decided to share my plan with some friends, yet I was terrified that one wrong word could wake that lightly sleeping monkey back up and my fear would be back in full force. On a day I was feeling a little more confident, I told a carefully selected close friend. It was the first time I had said it out loud, and once I had, I instantly wanted to take it back. I scanned her face and I could see her worry as she absorbed the information she had just been told, there was also fear there as it’s not something that she

would ever consider!

Thankfully, as I knew she would, she didn’t let her fear override my plans for an adventure. She was interested, supportive and eager to know more about my route and plans. Then in the weeks leading up to the ride I shared my plans with a few more people, though I was careful who I told, knowing that even now, one fear ridden comment could affect my confidence.

The night before leaving and with every bit of kit laid out on the floor, the monkey had one last go at me. I reached out to some 110

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fellow volunteers, who were also going on the weekend. They gave me words of encouragement, so I could give that monkey a knockout blow. They didn’t just however give me the confidence to set off on my bike, they also made me feel accountable for my actions. I didn’t know if I would succeed, but I would at least try.

The next morning, I packed and re-packed, I paced around, checked my tyres about 10 times, had 7 nervous wees and even swept my kitchen floor in full bike gear. I was stalling.

If you are sweeping the

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kitchen floor in bib shorts and a helmet you are definitely stalling! I finally got moving under a sunny sky with a cooling breeze.

The scenery was beautiful, though one ascent was so hard it had me stopping, swearing, pushing and starting again, but despite that, I was loving it. When I made it to the top of the Long Mynd and looked out at the rolling hills, I felt proud of myself for starting and found I was looking forward to the rest of my ride.

After Church Stretton I had miles of quiet country

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lanes.

Seeing the sign for Ludlow, my destination for the day, I had to stop and take a photo. It was in that moment that I thought “I might actually be able to do this!”.

After 42.5 miles, 3,320 feet of ascent, I made it to my camp site in Ludlow. Of course, it had to be right at the top of the town up a massive hill, a hill so massive climbing it did involve some more swearing. Fuelled by cola and ice-cream, I made it to the top and the views over 111

the Shropshire Hills made it all worth it...I think!

At the campsite I was greeted by a lovely lady and a warm shower. I set up my tent to enjoy the beautiful views, with this and a Fire Pot meal, what more could a girl ask for?

The next morning, as I packed up my gear intrigued campers approached and asked about my trip. It was nice to share my journey with them, now feeling much more confident in my ability. I was also quick to confirm that no, it was not an e-bike!

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I passed through Leominster and Hereford, stopping for the odd photo and ice lolly supplies. The roads were mostly quiet lanes and the sun shone down, I really could not have picked a better time to do this trip. 35 miles later, after climbing 2,146 feet, I arrived at the sleepy village of Hoarwithy.

There, I instantly saw a pub at the entrance to my campsite. My stomach registered what my eyes and seen and growled. I set up my tent with views of the river and headed straight to the pub. Whilst waiting for my burger, I

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sipped my cider and thought about the last two days. I was over halfway now, I was actually going to do this thing!!

I was a bit smug and probably a little complacent about day three. I could have done the route in two days but I wanted to make sure I gave myself some leeway in case any issues occurred. Day three was planned to be 13 miles...easy! Not quite, for after an easy six miles I hit an incline which topped out at 13%. Now that might not be a lot to some people, but with tired legs

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and a bike laden with kit I struggled. I pushed, I wobbled and I swore...a lot.

When I reached the highest point on my elevation screen on my Garmin, I gave a sigh of relief. It was all downhill from here, or so I thought!

I made it to Mitcheldean, with cloudy skies and a chill in the air. I was instantly on the search for a hot drink and cake, a lot of cake.

There didn’t seem to be any cafes nearby so I turned to Google, chose a café and started the route which was about a mile away. I pictured a huge hot

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bridleways, how hard could it be?

This turned out to be the biggest slog of the trip. The some of the paths were blocked by fallen trees and covered in bracken which is not ideal with a heavy bike.

Then I thought about the alternatives. I had to laugh.

I finally arrived at Oakraven field centre, ecstatic. I had made it! The other women greeted me with open arms whilst I basked in the feeling of contentment and utter exhaustion.

chocolate with whipped cream and something equally as sugary to eat. I was so distracted by these thoughts that after a few minutes I had the sudden realisation that I had been riding downhill for a while.

“Oh crap” I thought. “I should have checked if this café was enroute to the field centre”. It was too late now.

The cafe was as good as I imagined with an amazing

hot chocolate with all the trimmings and a banoffee bun that quite frankly was the best cake I have ever eaten. After both were demolished, I tentatively got out my phone and opened my maps and had the moment of realisation that I already knew was coming. I needed to cycle back up that hill, a busy A road with lorries whizzing by. It was time to find an alternative route, which was cross country on

We often see people write and share photos about completing adventures, not fully understanding the process it took to get to that point. Yes there were elements of the ride that pushed me physically but, the hardest part was following through with the little sparks of an idea even though it was scary, sharing my idea with others and actually leaving the house on the first morning.

The monkey on my shoulder had tried to take the ride away from me, but I had had well and truly punched that monkey and I could not wait to punch it again and again.

Please see page 107 for more about Harriet Corp and how you can get in touch 113 with her via social media.

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Swimming the English Channel

By Ellie Ames 114

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For swimmers, tackling the English Channel can be akin to a mountaineer attempting an 8000 metre peak. It is one of, if not the most famous open water swim.

In 1875 Matthew Webb of the UK became the first person to swim across the English Channel, taking 21 hours and 45 minutes.

In 1926 Gertrude Ederle, a 19 year old from the USA, became the first woman to swim the channel, though she started on the French side. Her time was 14 hours and somewhere between 31 and 39 minutes (we checked three sources and they all differed. She was only the sixth person to have successfully swum the channel and she had set a record.

Relay swims of the channel started to take off in 1964, enabling more people to be a part of the adventure and upskilling potential solo swimmers. Before 1964 only two relay teams had successfully swum across the channel, one in 1950 and the other in 1954.

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t 8:09pm on Friday 8 July 2022, a message appeared on the “Deep Sea Dippers Live” group chat. It read: “Evening all! Girls Alive Team Deep Sea Dippers are on the road. Heading to Dover for a 6am start tomorrow.” Several “fingers crossed” emojis followed – after over a year of preparation, and a week’s delay due to adverse weather conditions, six swimmers, and hordes of friends and family checking their phones expectantly, waited anxiously for the channel relay to begin.

Lizzie, Vicki, Von, Nina, Rachel and Nicky, the six women making up the Deep Sea Dippers, had all loved swimming for years, many since childhood. Nina grew up in the Netherlands, where “outdoor swimming is part and parcel of growing up”: “rivers, lakes, canals, the sea, you’ll find everyone taking dips all year round”. She moved back to the UK in 2015 and felt landlocked in Dorking. “I was very keen to find a way to have the sea become a part of my life again”, she said.

Rachel said that, as a child, she had “hoped to swim in the Olympics and to swim the channel but gradually became aware that this wasn’t very realistic”.

In 2022 six women who are part of the Girls Alive Surrey had a go. Ellie Ames, whose mother was one of the swimmers, shares their story.

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Before having children, Von and her husband had done open water swim events two or three times a year. On a swimming holiday 15 years ago, she heard about how the rep had swum the channel, and thought she’d like to do the same one day.

Nicky has been swimming all her life and was taught by her father on weekends as a child. She said: “I’ve

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swum at a 5k event at Alton Water on my own. I had a panic attack but overcame it and then finished in a good time so thought I might do more but never did.”

have to enter the water. The swimmers also had to get used to very cold conditions.

The group had to balance several hours’ training every week alongside busy lives and other commitments.

For all six women, an opportunity arose to turn these wishes into reality. While some were originally reserves and did not expect to undertake a channel swim until 2023, dropouts meant that they all became part of the relay team for 2022.

Nina described how it could be difficult at times to manage the hours involved with training. Her two young children often asked her: “are you going again?” Nina recalled how: “I felt guilty quite often. It also gave me quite some stress and I think that hampered my training sometimes mentally.”

Preparation involved a great deal of training, for what was going to be a lot of swimming.

The relay would involve each team member swimming in hour-long stints, but varying conditions meant they did not know how long it would take to reach France, and therefore how many times they would each

At the same time, the women reminisced about the pleasure of training together. Nina described it as “Amazing. In some respects, the whole training journey has been so inspirational and at times spiritual for me. To

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Nicky recalled how it was “frustrating and disappointing” having the original plan cancelled, but said it left her “more determined” when the swim did eventually begin.

Von said: “When it was called off due to the weather conditions during our window, it was a bit heart breaking. But we only had to wait a week, so it wasn't that bad in the end.”

On Saturday 9th July, the team’s friends and family awoke to a video in the WhatsApp group: Lizzie in the sea, at 6:17am – the relay had begun. She had swum from the shore at Dover Marina, where official rules dictated that the first swimmer must begin.

There were several other rules for the group to follow. Each of the women had to complete their hour-long swim, and the order in which they swam could not be altered. Despite the cold, the women could wear only a swimming costume, goggles and a hat: the warmth of a wetsuit was not allowed.

have this small tribe of woman to go enjoy the sea together is a privilege.”

Von said training was “Cold, but fantastic.

Training was about me spending time for myself, doing something I love, with a brilliant group of ladies. I would love to spend all my time swimming, so having an event to train for gave me an excuse to swim more.”

The swimmers described their nerves before entering the water. Nina said: “I didn’t think I was nervous until I was due to go in – then it hit me like a freight train. I really had to dig deep then to calm myself down and go for it.”

Nicky added: “Training was enjoyable. It did eat into family time, however my family could see how much I was getting out of it that we worked around it.”

Rachel described how: “I think that the main things that helped was doing this as a team, having lots of support during the swim from family and friends with lots of messages, and knowing that all I needed to do was get in the water for an hour and keep going, rather than worrying about how far I could get.”

Uncertainty about when they could swim meant swimmers had to put other things on hold. On Friday 1 July, the team waited anxiously for Eddie, their pilot, to check the midday forecast in the hope of a midnight start. However, it was decided that it would be too windy as they approached French waters, so the team had to stand down.

There were, however, complications. On the group chat, Esther, who had completed the channel relay the previous year, explained that the wind speeds on the day would “give them some challenging waves to contend 118

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with, especially in the middle as they cross the very busy shipping lane.”

Later, from way out at sea, friends and family received a spectacular image of the sun setting. Nina recalled the beauty they had witnessed that day: “The sea itself, the sky, sun, stars and moon, sea life. All the natural things I wanted to experience were there.

Mother nature is something else.”

Nina said: “The sea was very rocky and wild at times and I struggled a bit with this.

Because my goggles flooded twice, I couldn’t see much and the sea pushed me further away from the boat: that was quite scary.”

After 12 hours in the water, each of the women had swum twice, but there was still some way to go. Daphne, who was on the boat to support the team, sent an update: “Ladies are working so so hard to go straight in but it’s hard as tide is pushing the wrong way.”

The swimmers ploughed on. At 11:39am (BST), the WhatsApp group received an image of the French shore in the distance. At 12:43pm, an update: “into the separation zone now, and heading into French waters.”

Esther responded: “I’m getting absolutely nothing done today, totally addicted to your updates! Thank you, ladies, for sharing this adventure with us.”

Soon, the women were swimming in the light of the moon. Rachel described how: “The moment that I found hardest was realising

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that I’d need to do a 3rd swim, at midnight French time, in the dark. Because of my order in the relay, I had only expected to swim twice. The final part of the swim, as we tried to land in France, become much longer and harder than I’d expected. After having been on the boat since 5.30 am I found it hard and a bit scary to go back in in the dark. There was also no possibility of not doing it, as that would have been the end of the relay for everyone.”

Photos of the team, wrapped up warm and beaming, were sent to family and friends.

They celebrated with a glass of champagne on the boat ride back to England, and arrived back at 4am, almost 24 hours after they had set off.

Nina said: “I am getting a tattoo to remind me of your inner strength, so that will be my celebration”.

Each of the six women’s inspiring show of inner strength also meant that they raised over six thousand pounds for Choose Love, a charity supporting refugees and displaced people. With their teamwork and perseverance in swimming the channel, the women had worked to help people who, in far less safe conditions, cross the same expanse of water in the hope that they travel towards a better life.

But her fear soon left as she began to swim: “it became the absolute highlight of the whole experience for me. The water had become much calmer and I loved swimming in the dark with the light from the boat beside me and the lights in France up ahead.

I’d been told to do my best swim ever and this was the time that I felt able to really enjoy the swim.”

Despite almost a whole day at sea, made no easier by its choppy waves, its cold, its jellyfish, and the dark, the Deep Sea Dippers do not seem to have had enough of it. Von said: “I’d like to keep swimming in open water – and I don't quite feel like I've finished with the channel yet.”

After the group had swum for a total of 18 hours and 34 minutes, Lizzie reached the French shore. This meant that five of the women had each completed three hour-long stints, and Lizzie, who started and finished the relay, had done four.

About Girls Alive Girls Alive started as a local community group. It has since grown and evolved so much, that it has now been registered as a charity. According to the website of the Charity Commission for England and Wales, Girls Alive’s mission is “to provide a platform to empower women to support each other in becoming healthier and increasing confidence through the power of community sport.” Our editor joined them on a mountain biking ride in between lockdowns in 2020. They were superbly friendly, welcoming and encouraging, as well as knowing instinctively how to push her, so she was upskilling. If she hadn’t relocated to her native Wales soon afterwards, she would have returned for more.

If you are in the Surrey area, why not check them out, for they do lots of different types of cycling, plus hiking and of course, swimming? You can contact them via their website https://www.girlsalive.org.uk

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Racing New Zealand’s Coast to Coast By Jane Harries 122

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Day One In part 2 of her New Zealand expat diary, our editor, Jane Harries, shares here experience of participating in the 2001 Speight’s Coast to Coast, New Zealand premier multisport race.

For the past six or seven months I had lived and breathed the Coast to Coast, with nigh on every spare moment thinking about it, training for it and shopping for it. So you can image my relief on waking at 3am, to discover my tummy ache of the previous day had disappeared. I devoured my beans on coast whilst my Australian friends who were my support crew, laboured with the early start. Having landed in New Zealand less than 48 hours prior, I was more like 1am for them, time to go to bed after a late night out,

En route to the race start

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as opposed to an extra early start.

It was still dark as our support crews deposited us near the run to bike transition. There we racked our bikes, farewelled our crews and then walked almost 3kms to the race start. By the time us competitors made it to Kumara beach on the South Island’s west coast, the sky was beginning to change.

Soon it would be light and daylight meant the race was on.

The jog back to the bikes strung us out. Then it was all about getting into a group to cycle with at a

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pace one could keep up. I was in a group of eight and felt great. I took another turn at the front then pulled out into the road to

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allow our small peloton to overtake me on the inside.

I then jumped onto their back for it was now my turn to benefit from the draft.

The bike to mountain run transition on day 1

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Alas that’s when the guy in front of me slowed down and lost the group. I overtook him worked those pedals. I tried my hardest, but I couldn’t latch back onto the group. Now I had a choice, to ride alone and expend a lot of energy, or to sit up and wait for the next group. Again I tried the first option and again I failed. Now I felt sick from the effort. There was nothing for it but to sit up, pretend I was out on a Sunday saunter (is there such a word for cycling) or picnic ride, and latch onto the next group.

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The upside of jumping onto a slower group was now the cycling was well within my capability. I was cruising. A second upside, carpool Chris had already gone through transition and so, on my reaching the chaos that was transition, his wife very kindly took it on board to help my support crew. That first transition was a like a frantic scrum, with crews everywhere, each one trying some different means of making themselves easily identifiable to their competitors. One used the

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Canadian flag, another a huge pair of underpants, my crew had the Welsh flag with its instantly identifiable red dragon.

There was however a big downside into being so slow into that transition, for with most of the field now far ahead of me, I would have less company on what would undoubtedly be, the hardest leg for me, the mountain run. I say ‘run’.

That is an expression.

Perhaps I should write ‘hike, scramble, boulder, skip, stagger, wade, jog, trudge.’ For whilst the

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mountain ‘run’ was along one of New Zealand’s hiking routes, looking at the internet now, (2022) I see New Zealand’s Department of Conservations describes it as “Suitable for wellquipped people with previous backcountry tramping experience. Map reading and route finding skills essential. River crossing skills essential.”

Mere metres into the run came the first of numerous river crossings. In 2001 there was no way to avoid crossing the river in that place, in other places there might be a choice, but not

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there, for there was no bridge, the river had to be there, for there was no bridge, the river had to be forded. I knew that, for I’d done it during the December training weekend. On that occasion four of us had linked arms around shoulders, helping each other across the worst of the crossings. Alone I fell hard into the bitter cold water. Ouch. That hurt. I was going to bruise nicely.

A while later I somehow found myself with two or three others. We were identically matched for pace. But after a while

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they decided to cross the roaring Deception River at a place I didn’t fancy. My mistake, for it turned out one of them was a local guide who knew each crossing like the back of her hand. I however had no idea, all I knew about rivers came from kayaking. The results showed they completed the mountain run with its multiple river crossings, climbing up and over boulders and rock hopping, over an hour faster than me, 6 something instead of my 7 something hours.

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Before I got to cross the day’s finish line I still had hours to go after losing those three. As if by a miracle a guy from Sydney Australia caught up with me.

Like me he didn’t know the course (the one time I’d done this section in December turned out not to be enough in my case) and was as confused as I. We worked together, combining whatever wits we had left, to find a way through the infernal boulders and multiple river crossings as we clambered and hauled our way over

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was exhausted. There was very little left in my body.

All I could do was slow hike / stroll and occasionally jog a few paces.

Yes, I was hideously slow.

So slow, I was way too late for the leg massage I’d booked at the finish line.

So slow, my support team were in a flap. So slow many had left the finish line and gone to their tents or camper vans or accommodation, but not carpool Chris and his wife.

They were there to roar me in and to run after my cap as it flew off in the wind.

There to congratulate me on making it to the end of day 1.

Day Two

the boulders that made up much of the route up the Deception. Reaching the Goat Pass Hut near the top was such a blessed relief.

We had done it. We had survived the Deception.

There race marshals noted our appearance out of that wild crazy climb. Whilst the mountain stage was far from over, at least the SUV sized boulder strewn section was done.

Somewhere around here the Sydneysider and I lost

each other. But that didn’t matter, we had been there for each other when we both seemed to need the company to successfully tackle the terrain.

Descending the Minga was easier in comparison, for one thing, there was a proper path to follow for much of the way, and a clearly marked route through the rocks in the broad river valley leading to the day’s finish line. But I 128

I woke scared. How would my legs feel? Would they be capable of cycling 15 kms, then helping me kayak for 67kms and then cycle for another 70kms? I tentatively moved them.

Clearly running and hiking in the South Island at Christmas and hitting rough trails around Auckland had worked, for unlike two months earlier, my legs were perfectly happy.

Phew. That had been a moment I had feared, not knowing if my legs would be willing to cooperate on the second day.

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Day two was a staggered start, based on race numbers. I was with six or seven others, all guys and all of which looked a lot fitter than me. As we rode one suggested I not take a turn at the front, that I save myself to keep up with the group. Some may consider his comment to be demeaning, I didn’t, but I still wanted to show I was capable of doing my part for the group, of helping each of them achieve their goal. Stupid mistake, I should have listened to him. After just my first turn and now at the back, I couldn’t keep up. This time it wasn’t because of someone else dropping off that I lost the group, it was because of my own pig headedness. So I rode most of the 15 kms to the kayak put in alone.

This was my leg, the one I had so trained for, and this leg I owned. Sure others passed me, but I caught a few too, mainly ones who’d fallen in and were now swimming. I felt for one guy, I saw him swim his kayak to the riverbank, get back in, set off again, only to fall in once more during the next rapid.

Coach Pete T and coach Pete R from Yakity Yak had paddled down the river before race start. They’d

told me, “when you see us, you’re half way through the gorge.” Of course, on the day, that seemed like the toughest rapid. I was terrified of swimming right in front of them, that would have been so embarrassing, so I paddled for dear life, desperate to get through it safe and sound. Later they told me how focused I seemed, like they could see the whites in my knuckles 129

holding onto my paddle as I paddled through the rapid.

I told them of my fear of getting embarrassed by falling in should I say ‘hello’ and they replied, “quite right”.

Kayak leg over, I ran up the gravel track which separated the river from the field where the bikes were lined up. If I needed a confidence booster, I sure got it, for as I ran I

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overheard one guy say “well she won’t be last”.

That’s right, you see, I felt great. I wasn’t even tired!

Now there was only the 70 kms cycle and the run across sand to the finish line to go.

I was whizzing along. I couldn’t believe it. About 30, 31 kph per hour. A group caught me, I jumped on. I managed to keep up with them at 40 kph, 41 kph but by 43 kph, I let them go. I drifted down to about 28 kph. Another group caught me. Now this was quite some group, a group with a strong leader, he yelled out “we’re doing 30 kph, jump on”. 30 kph is the speed at which I’d been riding my bike to work, 30 kph I could do, I could take my turn at the front and not get dropped whilst recovering at the back. I jumped on and it was bliss. The miles rolled by. The feared headwind of the Canterbury plains didn’t even materialise. By the side of the road villagers and isolated farmers cheered us on.

Some had hose pipes flowing, ready to give us all a welcome cooling shower.

Then we hit Christchurch.

At traffic lights police gave us right of way over drivers. Yet somehow our group splintered.

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Three of us, a relay person (in those days, 2001, a two person relay or a solo could do the two day race, now a three person relay is allowed ), a solo guy and me, rode on. The relay person being comparatively a lot fresher led, followed by the guy and then me. All was good until with just 14 kms to go, the relay person braked. I had no time to brake, my front wheel hit the guy and we both hit the deck.

I felt awful. What if I had ruined his chance to finish?

Worse, what if he or his bike were damaged? “Are you ok” we both asked the other. “Yes, I’m fine” we both replied. “I’m so sorry” I apologised. “Are you sure you’re ok, you hit your head” he said. “Yes, I’m fine, are you ok”.

We were both fine. We took off, drafting off each other. Then, he confessed he was shattered, he had nothing left, he’d swam twice in kayak leg. So I took over and let him draft off me, letting his best drafting pace dictate our speed. After all, I was the one who’d taken him out.

A kilometre before the finish we heard a mighty whoosh as a bike flew past us. The competitor in me 131

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clicked into action, “come on, let’s get them”. “No, you go” he ordered.

There would be photographers at the finish.

In a way, everyone wanted to be the star of their own photo, no one wanted to queue for a photo. Had we been friends, trained together, done the whole race together, it would have been different. Again, he ordered me to go.

I shifted gears, put some of my new leg muscles to work and sprinted past the relay competitor. I have no idea why I wanted to race this one person, but I did.

Come the dismount area I leapt off the bike, left it with a bike handler and still in my racing cleats, ran across the sandy beach to the finish line, all of the time my head held high and with this indescribable feeling of having done it.

As I reached that line, the race’s founder, Robyn Judkins greeted me with a big huge handshake and finisher’s prize. Not a finisher’s medal or certificate, but a can of beer, courtesy of the sponsors, Speights, ‘the beer of the South’.

My relay racing friend and training buddy Rachel McLauchlan was there to greet me. Others too. It

was amazing. Absolutely wonderful. Indescribable.

That night, a whole load of us watched more competitors from the two day and then the one day competitors finish, it was then my head began to hurt. It really was quite a strange type of headache, I thought it to perhaps be a dehydration headache, but it wasn’t. Rather it was concussion. That I only realised two days later when I picked up my cycle 132

helmet and noticed a huge crack in it. The solo guy had been right, I really had hit my head. Yet with so much adrenaline pumping through me, I had felt no ill effects until hours later, when I still stood at the finish line cheering on the final tailenders. I know, I was foolish and extremely lucky, for head injuries can turn serious really quickly. I should have gone straight to the race medical team and told them what had happened.

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Reflections People are amazing, what they will do for each other.

If it hadn’t been for friends who’d crewed for me during the race, if it hadn’t been for all my fellow kayakers at Yakity Yak who greeted me with open arms and many of who became training buddies and some, friends, if it hadn’t been for the guy from Sydney who actually hauled me up one boulder way taller than me (we definitely didn’t go the

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best way, that’s for sure, but together we did it), if it hadn’t been for any of these people, would I have these memories? Who knows?

What I do know is our bodies really are amazing.

If we are prepared to set a goal, to identify the steps we need to take to reach that goal and to follow through with those steps, we really can achieve so much. Sure it can be hard, but what’s most important, 133

is it pursuing the important things in our life, or, is it spending time on the blah stuff? Of course, rest isn’t blah, we all need our down time too. But how much is real down time and how much is wasted time?

If I hadn’t bought that Time Out magazine in London, if I hadn’t moved to New Zealand, if I hadn’t joined Yakity Yak, if I hadn’t seen that video with the overweight women doing the race, if I hadn’t decided

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to give it a go. There are so many ‘ifs’ in this one story of mine. But there are ifs in other stories too, not just mine, but others in this issue, in other issues of Adventure She and in stories told elsewhere. If I did, of if I didn’t? How is it that we choose to live our life?

Now some 21, almost 22 years after I did the Coast to Coast, I don’t remember the headache pain, or the pain of the mountain

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section over Goat Pass, or the pain of breaking my thumb, all I remember is the joy of having done it, of having dreamed and turned that dream into a goal, a goal which I achieved.

Since then, I’ve stood on other start lines and felt scared, concerned that I may not finish. But then I remember the Coast to Coast and I say to myself, ‘if I could do that, then perhaps I can do this, so focus Jane and give it your

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best’. After all, what’s the alternative? Is it letting fear, angst, worry suck away at one’s limited energy. Sure I’ve done that too, but I very much hope that overall, I will look back at my life and savour what I’ve done, rather than hanker over what I haven’t attempted. I know I can’t do everything and I have no idea how long my body and my health will hold out, but I certainly intend to have a go at living my best life.

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About Jane Harries Jane is the founder and editor of Adventure She. She can’t remember when she first sat on a pony but remembers going for her first riding lesson age 4 and knows she could swim of a sort by 5, even once representing her swimming club, coming dead last. That wasn’t asked again and soon piano lessons took over from swimming lessons.

Jane was never conventionally sporty. She never played hockey or netball for her secondary / high school, nor did she ever do Brownies, Girl Guides, the Duke of Edinburgh Awards, or Outward Bound. A tubby to fat child, the school nurse at her comprehensive actually gave her a big pamphlet on healthy eating and exercise, something her classmates didn’t get or need. The thing is though, it doesn’t matter what our shape or size is, what matters is that we take charge of ourselves and seek out those activities which give us pleasure. For the teenage Jane, walk-jogging the family dog, riding her pony and cycling with friends got her moving. She also seized opportunities that came her way and age 10 to 11 went to a Welsh language activity camp which had horse riding, swimming and trampolining. Age 10 to 14 she attended pony club camp. When Jane was 15, a friend said her mother had suggested three of them go youth hostelling on their bikes, and that’s exactly what they did. Forty year later, they are still friends.

Jane eventually got into hiking in her 20’s. In the April and July 2022 issues of Adventure She, Jane shared some of her early hiking stories, which she openly admits, were full of mistakes.

Since doing the Coast to Coast, age 34 in 2001, Jane has done two more 100km Oxfam Trail walkers (she’d already done one in Hong Kong), hiked the Camino Frances from Saint Jean Pied de Porte to Santiago de Compostela, done multiple super sprint plus sprint triathlons, competed in several one day adventure races and with a variety of team mates, won her section at several rogaines including the women’s section of the Victorian Rogaining Championships.

Following major surgery in 2008 which entailed a month in hospital and multiple other operations thanks to rare post-surgical complications, Jane came back and took two gold medals in orienteering at the 2009 Australian Masters Games, plus after more associated surgeries, in 2011 with her teammates was runner up in their category at the Australian Rogaining Championships. She also returned to triathlon.

2012 saw Jane back on the operating table, this time for a hip arthroscopy. She has since cycled the 100 mile ride London, competed in two half IRONMAN triathlons including the 2017 World Championships and done 2017 Marathon des Sables entailing around 150 miles on foot in the Sahara Desert. An injured shoulder necessitating surgery in 2021 curtailed Jane somewhat for a while, but in 2022 she hiked the 486 mile Colorado Trail climbing around 90,000 feet.

She’s currently trying to decide which of the following adventures to do next, ride across Iceland, cycle to Rome, ride in Mongolia, cycle across the USA, learn to cross country ski so she can eventually do a traverse of Greenland, hike the length of Wales, or simply go on as many day hikes as she can in her native Wales. But Jane’s ever mindful that whatever adventure she sets as her next goal, it needs to be one that her body be trained up for, given her personal medical record. After all, she may not be capable of swimming the English Channel or packrafting in Iceland, but the world is a very big place and whatever our current physical capacity, there’s lots of adventures out there awaiting all of us, whether physically demanding ones like skiing to a Pole, or less physically demanding ones like taking phenomenal photographs. As Jane say, it doesn’t matter what we go for, so long as we are true to ourselves.

You can follow Jane on social media at www.instagram.com/adventurebyjane

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Adventure She magazine, Issue 19, December 2022

www.adventureshe.com

Coming Up For a few years now we’ve wanted to share so many stories but simply haven’t had the space, or the stories were time worthy and well, by the time we could publish them, they were old news. On a few rare occasions stories were to promised to us, but then never materialised, meaning we had to scramble to find stories of equal value and merit. Sometimes though the most amazing stories landed totally unexpectantly in our inbox and they were so amazing, we simply had to change the magazine at the last minute to accommodate them.

You guessed it, producing a magazine like Adventure She has been a challenge, as well as a joy and an honour.

But, it’s time to spice things up a bit, after all, nothing stands still.

So, we’re changing how we publish our stories.

For 2023 instead of a quarterly flippable magazine, we’ll be posting stories directly onto our website, just like lots of other established magazines have been doing. There’s no guide on how many stories, or with what regularity, instead we hope to publish empowering, educating and entertaining stories at the right time, whether that be right away, or matching up with events like World Female Ranger Week, or International Mountain Day, or International Women’s Day. We hope you like that. If you don’t, remember, please cancel your automatic renewals if you originally subscribed to our 2018 issues.

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Adventure She magazine, Issue 19, December 2022

www.adventureshe.com

Publishing directly onto our website in this manner was in fact our original idea, but then we got distracted by the look and feel of having a flippable magazine. We still think there’s a place for flippable magazines, we think they are amazing and we hope you’ve enjoyed reading the ones we’ve produced. The existing magazines will of course remain online and we’re definitely not discounting bring back the current format.

Time is short though, time is pressing. Sometimes sitting down at a computer to read an entire magazine can seem to rob us of precious time. Contrast that with a quick post that empowers, educates and entertains. Exactly, we want to work with you, so that together we can enhance our lives, as opposed to sucking away at your precious time, particularly relevant given the theme for this issue is time management.

Of course, please do keep sending us your stories, for we would be honoured to publish them. As for our editor, she’s really excited about this change and hopes that without the last-minute stresses that come with publishing a quarterly magazine, she’ll finally be able to finish that book and screenplay which she’s had to put on hold.

Wherever you are, we wish you all an exciting, happy and healthy year.

The Adventure She Team 137

Adventure She She magazine, magazine, Issue Issue 19, 19, December December 2022 2022 Adventure

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138 Adventure She is a brand of TNA Consulting Services Ltd, Pembrokeshire, UK