Mud, Sweat and Tears
Page 29
In the nick of time, with Search and Rescue on the verge of launching, we emerged off the coast of Iceland, scared, near hypothermic, but alive. Just. And running, literally, on vapour fuel. The whole expedition of some 3,000 miles was an awfully long time to be utterly cold, wet and afraid.
Then there was the crazy TV idea of signing up to go to north Africa to endure the simulated basic training that the French Foreign Legion was notorious for. Gritty, exhausting and as hot as hell in the Western Saharan summer.
Twelve of us recruits got whittled down to four at the hands of some of the most brutal and draining military training techniques imaginable. Marching, crawling, fighting from dawn to dusk; shifting hillsides of rocks, being buried alive and running everywhere 24/7. Blister-ridden and sleep-deprived. We ate camel skin stew and stale bread, and day after day, week after week, we dragged our sorry carcasses through the desert until we dropped under the weight of our packs, which were full of sand.
I have been so lucky to lead amazing teams to incredible places: the remote Venezuelan jungles of the ‘Lost World’ in search of Jimmy Angel’s lost gold; or the remote white desert that is Antarctica to climb unclimbed peaks. (I managed to break my shoulder in a fall on that trip, but you can’t win them all!)
Then we returned to the Himalayas, where my buddy Gilo and I flew powered paragliders to above the height of Everest. Once again, we were raising funds for the charity Global Angels, an extraordinary charity that champions the most needy kids around the world. But the flight itself was a mission that so nearly had fatal consequences.
All the aviation and cold weather experts predicted almost certain disaster; from frozen parachutes to uncontrollable hurricane-force winds, from impossible take-offs to bone-breaking landings – and that was before they even contemplated whether a small one-man machine could even be designed to be powerful enough to fly that high.
And if we could, it certainly then would not be possible to lift it on to our backs. But we pulled it off: Gilo designed and built the most powerful, super-charged, fuel-injected, one-man powered paraglider engine in history, and by the grace of God we somehow got airborne with these monsters on our backs.
Some blessed weather and some ball-twitching flying, and we proved the sceptics wrong – even, at the end, landing effortlessly at the foot of the Everest range, nimbly on two feet, like twinkle-toes. Mission complete.
Then, recently, I got to lead the first expedition to travel through the Arctic’s infamous Northwest Passage in a rigid inflatable boat – a mission that showed me, without doubt, some of the most remote landscapes I have ever witnessed, as well as some truly monstrous waves through the Beaufort Sea and beyond. It’s a wild, inaccessible place with little chance of rescue if things turn nasty.
Yet, by chance, on one of the thousands of tiny, unexplored islands, surrounded by fragmenting pack ice, we discovered European-style makeshift graves, a human skull and myriad bones. The finds pointed towards the potential discovery of what happened to the fated members of Captain Franklin’s Victorian expedition, who died in the ice after enduring the worst sort of frozen, starving, lingering death imaginable – all in pursuit of a route through the Northwest Passage.
Adventures, such as these, and many more beyond.
Among these have been an unhealthy number of near-death moments, many of which I look back on now and wince. But I guess our training in life never really ends – and experience is always the best tutor of all.
Then there are the more bizarre: like jet skiing around Britain in aid of the UK lifeboats (RNLI). Day after day, hour after hour, pounding the seas like little ants battling around the wild coast of Scotland and Irish Sea. (I developed a weird bulging muscle in my forearm that popped out and has stayed with me ever since after that one!)
Or hosting the highest open-air dinner party, suspended under a high-altitude hot-air balloon, in support of the Duke of Edinburgh’s kids awards scheme.
That mission also became a little hairy, rappelling down to this tiny metal table suspended fifty feet underneath the basket in minus forty degrees, some twenty-five thousand feet over the UK.
Dressed in full Naval mess kit, as required by the Guinness Book of World Records – along with having to eat three courses and toast the Queen, and breathing from small supplementary oxygen canisters – we almost tipped the table over in the early dawn, stratosphere dark. Everything froze, of course, but finally we achieved the mission and skydived off to earth – followed by plates of potatoes and duck à l’orange falling at terminal velocity.
Or the time Charlie Mackesy and I rowed the Thames naked in a bathtub to raise funds for a friend’s new prosthetic legs. The list goes on and on, and I am proud to say, it continues. But I will tell all those stories properly some other place, some other time.
They vary from the tough to the ridiculous, the dangerous to the embarrassing. But in this book I wanted to show my roots: the early, bigger missions that shaped me, and the even earlier, smaller moments that steered me.
Along the way, I have since had the struggle of coming to terms with recognition and the press; the tightrope of balancing the inherent risks of my work with having a beautiful young family.
Both are still unresolved.
There have been so many mistakes, failures and losses. Too many to mention.
But I do possess an acute awareness that, through it all, someone has been blessing me greatly.
Make no mistake – luck has played a huge part in all that has happened, and there is not a day that goes by without me being aware of that.
The by-product of being aware of being blessed is learning – against so many of the values of our society – to try to walk modestly, give generously and help those who need a little leg up.
Simple lessons, but they have shaped the way that Shara and I try to live our lives together.
And, I am the first to admit, we often get it wrong.
Life continues to be an adventure, and in many ways more so than ever.
I am still away from home more than I would like. (Although much less than I think people often believe.) And I have learnt that when I am at home, I am at home – not away doing press or meetings. Both of which are so boring!
Instead, I have had to learn to prioritize clearly in my life: to be safe, get home fast, and keep it fun – the rest is detail.
I still do have more risk in my life than feels comfortable – and you can’t depend on luck too often. Be grateful for the lucky escapes but don’t bank on them.
But there is no getting away from the fact that risk is with me every day when I am away filming or on expeditions.
I mean, in the last few months alone, I’ve been pinned in a big set of white-water rapids, been bitten by an angry snake in a jungle, had a close escape with a big mountain rockfall, narrowly avoided being eaten by a huge croc in the Australian swamps, and had to cut away from my main parachute and come down on my reserve, some five thousand feet above the Arctic plateau.
When did all this craziness become my world?
It’s as if – almost accidentally – this madness has become my life. And don’t get me wrong – I love it all.
The game, though, now, is to hang on to that life.
Every day is the most wonderful of blessings, and a gift that I never, ever take for granted.
Oh, and as for the scars, broken bones, aching limbs and sore back?
I consider them just gentle reminders that life is precious – and that maybe, just maybe, I am more fragile than I dare to admit.
Granny Patsie at her beloved Portavo Point in Northern Ireland.
Dad (back row, fourth from right) at the Royal Marines Commando Training Centre, Lympstone.
Family portrait, at home together in London. Guess who the good-looking baby is …
Granny and me, aged seven (about the only time I’ve ever worn a bow tie!).
Dad and me in the mountains together.
On holiday in France – that chee
ky grin beginning to shine through.
Aged ten, at home in the Isle of Wight and ready for adventure.
Me, Dad and my sister, Lara, in the garden on the Isle of Wight.
My first school portrait, aged seven.
Lara, aged eighteen – always beautiful.
Mick (Crosthwaite) and me getting ready for a sailing expedition on the island, both aged eleven.
Winning the shield for the best karate student, aged sixteen, before leaving for Japan.
House cricket team at Eton, aged seventeen. I’m second from left on the front row.
Charlie (Mackesy) and me, aged eighteen, messing around as always.
Having just passed SAS (R) Selection, doing our parachute training.
Me and soldiers from my SAS (R) squadron in the North African desert.
Gritting it out in bad weather in the mountains – one of the great loves of my life.
Mick and me at Everest base camp before the climb.
7.22 a.m., 26 May 1998. Neil and me with the regimental flag on the summit of Everest.
Celebrating, finally, at the end of the Everest ascent. Drained but so happy.
Crevasse crossing in the Khumbu Icefall on Everest.
Geoffrey, Mick, me and Neil – celebrating British success the British way in the relative warmth of base camp.
Returning to Everest almost ten years later to fly the first powered paraglider above the summit of the mountain. Another high-risk mission!
Shara and me just before we got married.
Shara on the deck of our houseboat in London for Jesse’s christening.
One of my favourite times of day: reading to the boys. Our best-loved book: The Bear Scouts’ Adventure!
On our little island in North Wales – living life to the full.
Jesse, Huckleberry and Marmaduke – our three beautiful boys.
Shara and Marmaduke – one of my favourite pictures in the world. Shara is so happy.
As a family we do a lot of this sort of thing. Simple pleasures.
Life doesn’t get much better than this: climbing with Jesse along the cliff tops of our Welsh island home.
Keeping fit has always been an important part of my job – and I love it when the family joins in as well!
Finally finishing our epic transatlantic Arctic voyage, flying the naval white ensign and so relieved.
Dropping from our dining table under a hot-air balloon at twenty-five thousand feet. Record-breaking and in aid of the Duke of Edinburgh Awards.
Up to my neck in sand at the hands of the French Foreign Legion, going through simulated basic training in the Sahara.
Being filmed for the two-minute tester of the Man vs. Wild concept. And we’ve never looked back.
My first ever jump in the opening episode of Man vs. Wild. Six seasons on and it’s still fun and wild.
Man vs. Wild has taken me to the edge many times, whether on volcanoes or in swamps and freezing-cold glacial lakes.
Doing what I do best – living my dream.
I’ve learned a healthy respect for both white water and the freezing cold.
One of the billboards the Discovery Channel used around the world.
The northern territories and swamplands of Australia stretched me to the max. Don’t mess with saltwater crocodiles!
Dave Pearce, ex-commando, one of the Man vs. Wild mountain guides. Keeping the crew safe.
Dan Etheridge (cameraman) and Pete Lee (sound) working in minus twenty-five degrees and always smiling. Inspirations.
One of my favourite Man vs. Wild pictures. Paul Ritz, me and Simon Reay at the end of a shoot. Drenched in sweat, beer in hand and always laughing.
Prince Charles and the royal family are always such great supporters of the Scouting movement.
Everything I love about Scouting: fun, adventure and togetherness.
With so many inspirational Scouting stories, I feel so proud to be their Chief Scout.
Handing out the Queen’s Scout Award at Windsor Castle each year is always such a great honour.
INDEX
The page references in this index correspond to the printed edition from which this ebook was created. To find a specific word or phrase from the index, please use the search feature of your ebook reader.
Abercromby, Sir Ralph 8–9
adventure clothing range 394
Afrikaans salespersons, lecture to 367–8
aikido 70, 75
Al (Eton friend) 78–80, 94
altitude problems 282, 294–6, 326–8
Ama Dablam Expedition 267–9
Amies, Ed/Eddie 68–9, 94, 110, 181, 120, 121, 371
Amies, Lela 88
Amies, Tom 88, 94
Andalucia, 1999 holiday 363–5
Ang-Sering (Sherpa) 305, 359
Annabel (Shara’s sister) 375
Antarctic expedition 395
Arctic expedition 395
Arsentiev, Sergei and Francys 355–6
Australia, saltwater crocodile 3
Babu Chiri (Sherpa) 309, 359
balcony ledge, Everest 306, 309, 330
barge home on Thames 373–6
base camp, Everest 278, 280–1, 282, 289–90, 292, 349–54
battle camp 213–29
‘Bear’ Lara’s nickname for BG 81
Ben Loyal (mountain) 270–2
Ben Nevis, MG and 44
Bengal, western 112
Berlin 104–5
Black Mountains exercises, SAS(R)
Selection 160–7, 169–74
Blunt, James 122
body preparation, SAS(R) Selection 167–8
books 394
Born Survivor: Bear Grylls 3, 235, 383, 385–91
Borneo, snake-bite 3
bottomless run 102–3
Bracknell Weather Centre 299–300
Braila 11
Branson, Sir Richard 264–5
Brecon Beacons
exercises, SAS(R) Selection 146–51, 153–9, 183
with MG in 52–3
Brian (Shara’s father) 373, 379–80
Bristol
University of the West of England (UWE), studying at 119–25
cottage with Trucker 182, 233–5
The Brunel, life at 120–2, 125, 136
Bristol University 119
British Ama Dablam Expedition 267–9
British Military Advisory Team colonel 243
Brunel, The, life at 120–2, 125, 136
Buck, Pearl S. 5
Buick, Roger 356
buildings, climbing 77–80
bullying
at Eton 67–9
at prep school 58, 60–1
busking with Trucker 122
Calcutta, Mother Teresa of 113–15
Cambridge girl 252
camp 1, Everest 285, 291
camp 2, Everest 292, 294, 299, 304, 305–7, 310–13, 347–8
camp 3, Everest 295–6, 297–9, 315–16, 346–7
camp 4, Everest 305, 323–5, 329, 345
Canadian Rockies, accident 1–3
Cancun honeymoon 375
Cane, Danny 390
Caucasian front 10–11
Channel 4, spotted by 382–3
character trait, Eton 95–6
Chertsey, MG MP for 25, 42
Chief Scout 31, 396–7
children’s charities, fundraising 395
Chipper (Eton friend) 87
Christian faith 92–4, 115, 249–50, 327–8, 359, 397
Churchill, Winston 10, 33, 263
climbing 77
buildings 77–8
library dome climb 78–80
see also Everest
close target recces (CTRs) 212
Colin (LA support team) 398