5 years in Scotland; entering a new year

Just like that another 12 months have passed and I am heading into my 5th Scottish Christmas. I have always found this a difficult time of the year. My gipsy lifestyle causing my sister and closest friends to be scattered around the world which has not made it any easier. It was 5 years ago that I arrived here from Sydney, Australia. With not much else than 2 bikes, a bag filled with clothes and my loyal dog Fynn. 5 years later and my bikes have accumulated to a total of 5, my bag of clothes expanded to a house full of furniture and Fynn has been joined by a collie pup called Macdui. Time is fickle. 

Macdui in awe of his big brother Fynn

I had given myself 5 years to “make” it as an athlete. I am still not sure what that actually meant but I can safely say I did not make it as an athlete the way I had it planned. Often people say “all the hard work and commitment has payed off” when they have achieved something big. All my hard work and commitment did not pay off in terms of medals or winning championships but when I look back on the adventures I have had this year it certainly has payed off in a totally different way. 

most MTB rides in Scotland turn into an epic 

I have been struggling with injury 3 out of the 5 years I have been here. In the last 18 months chronic injury settled into chronic pain. As athletes we are trained to push through pain and I have always felt my ability to do that in training and racing was what made me a strong competitor rather than having pure natural talent. Chronic pain or chronic fatigue are probably not words you would associate with me when you follow my adventures. Yet I have all the symptoms. And I have been dealing with the mental struggle and exhaustion that comes with it. In the last 12 months it feels like I have gradually run out of resilience finding it harder and harder to motivate myself to not fall down that slippery slope of depression and inactivity associated with the cliche of chronic pain patients. 

Amazing ski tour season in Scotland 

It has been more difficult than ever to stay positive this year for various reasons. I have always loved my job as an equine veterinarian but the stresses of the profession and the physical nature of the daily routine involved has had a huge impact on my pain levels causing a feeling of resentment against my work which I wasn’t used to feeling. I got injured in Scotland and I have always struggled with its cold climate making it hard to not point the blame in Scotlands direction. Would everything be better elsewhere? 

I have always had a passion for my job as an equine vet

It has been a sad year for many of my friends losing loved ones and whilst I am someone who always tries to create something positive out of adversity I have struggled making sense of it all. A spiral of negative thoughts only leading to more symptoms and more negativity. 

The beauty of the Scottish Highlands 

I have had such amazing feedback on the incredible adventures I have been lucky to experience this season, but achieving those was the easy part really. The bit in between, my daily life as a veterinarian living from pain flare up to pain flare up, not being able to get any consistent training done, not being able to find a way to control the pain, that has been the hard part. That is where the hard work and commitment has come in. In a very different way than 5 years ago when I arrived here having just finished my first season at elite level. Back then a short run would be 10kms minimum where now I can barely manage 2.5kms and on bad day I struggle to just take the dogs for a walk. My volume of training if I can even call it that nowadays has cut in half, and improvements are measured in pain levels rather than pace or power. I have had to completely let go of my competitive side and measure my achievements in a very different way. Strangely I have been applauded for my resilience during races more this year than ever in my whole racing career. Still giving me that sense of satisfaction which I would otherwise get from a well executed race. 

catching up with Karin always leads to another adventure !

I love adventure, it is in my heart, it is in my soul, it runs through my veins. I love the outdoors, the mountains, the solitude. The feeling of freedom it gives me. Although injured, this year I have mentally pushed myself further than I have ever gone before. And in those moments life becomes so simple, my mind becomes completely quiet. It sounds contradictory but being so far out of my comfort zone, becomes my comfort zone. And I long for those moments of tranquility. 

racing leads to meeting lots of incredible people with the same view on life

I become instantly happy when I think about being out in the mountains or when I talk about races I have done or plans I might have in future. I feel it enlightens me, it energises me and it makes me feel alive. To give this up is simply not an option. It would be asking of me to change who I fundamentally am. 

So I consciously have made the choice to keep going, to get up off the couch and ride my bike with or without pain. It does not come easy. The dialogue of motivation in my head exhausting me at times. It is however a conscious decision, where every day I choose to keep on chasing dreams and work towards them to the best of my ability with all that I am today and all that I can no longer be.  

coach James being charmed by Macdui

Whilst chatting to a client of mine she surprised me with a great analogy of having a tool box to deal with adversity. A good tool box has all the tools in it to keep you functioning. She made me realise I had a great tool box. It fitted my coach James McCallum, my physio Morgan Lloyd, chronic pain specialist and friend Rob Friel, my remedial massage therapist Carol Andrews, my partner Michael and a whole lot of friends scattered around the world inspiring me to keep believing. Over the last 5 years I have trained hard, I have raced hard, I have travelled to remote places to do ,when you think of it, crazy stuff. I have pushed myself to the limits on all sorts of different levels. I might not have the medals to show for all my hard work and dedication but instead what I have to show for it is a lot more valuable. I have accumulated incredible friends, I have made rare connections with like minded people, I have had amazing experiences and made memories no one can ever take away from me. Most importantly my hard work and commitment has showed me what is possible even when things do not go according to plan and to never give up on something you can not go a day without thinking about.

It might only be 2.5km I can manage but they are beautiful 2.5kms!

2019 is about to start. Coming back from Nepal I purposely had no plans for 2019. I thought it was time for me to be without pressures for a while. What I have loved most in my life is that opportunities have always come my way when I least expected them but when mentally I have most needed them. So before I had a chance to recover from the Yak Attack there was a ski mountaineering adventure in Norway scribbled on my calendar thanks to the lovely Fiona Russel, a trip to Spain to catch up with my kindred spirit Karin Sloove which always leads to some crazy project and a few other things I am working on to keep my head happy. 

racing at 5000m altitude during the Yak Attack

I have days where I barely make it through a day of work without crying due to the pain in my legs, and I have days where I push myself over a 5500m pass in Nepal whilst suffering significant altitude sickness, and there are all the days in between. And all my hard work and dedication has paid off to be able to live this life full of extremes. 

"let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray" Rumi

Making memories; Bike packing our way through Nepal

We decided that the only way for an adventure not to end was to keep adding more, in Karen’s case to the absolute last hour. Having literally just finished the hardest MTB stage race we had ever done, Nepalese MTB champion Laxmi, Karen and I were embarking on another epic; bike packing our way back from Pokhara to Kathamandu. 300kms of dirt roads. Following the back ways to get a real taste for what rural Nepal was all about. The only slight hiccup was that we were told the morning we left that the Nepalese MTB pro’s Ajay and Roan had recced the route before and it had taken them 4 days. Guided MTB tours would take 8 days and because of Karen’s flight we would have to do it in 3 days. No pressure. 

Getting on the way with all smiles

We were sent off by the Yak Attackers who had become close friends. A feeling of nostalgia came over me as our journey began. We had been treated with incredible weather, bright blue skies set against the colourful features which made Nepal. The high peaks on the back ground. After having been so sick during the Yak Attack, I started to feel almost human again adding to my feeling of contentment. 

Badman fixing my back tire

we weren't spared from endless climbs

enjoying a little rest

never ending beauty 

landscapes changing in front of our eyes

We were all on high spirits cruising along taking in the beauty of our surroundings and the km’s seem to easily disappear. Laxmi had brought her friend who was nick named Badman to help us with the route. After an hour and a half we were sipping on a cup of tea and a couple of hours later we we were having lunch; this was the life!! We had to get to Ghorka  that night. Ghorka was a little mountain village at the foot of the Manasu Circuit. Laxmi was a world of knowledge and told us that Gorkha was the foundation of Nepal. It was the home to the bravest-of-the-brave troops in the world, Gurkha. From the Gorkha only, the vision of present-day Nepal was sketched by the first king of the modern Nepal. Before that, Nepal was divided into small kingdoms until when Prithvi Narayan Shah, the first king of (modern) Nepal had the vision to unite small kingdoms into a singular strength to build a wall against the rising force from the East, East India Company. 

no rush to get anywhere 

sunset

and then it was dark

some food before our final 15km climb into Ghorka 

We had to cover a good 100km to get there so Laxmi and Badman were working on “short cuts’ taking us to the most beautiful isolated small mountain villages with the friendliest people you can ever imagine. Sunset hit and our head torches came out but none of us seem to be overly worried and there was no real rush to get anywhere. Slight panic set in when a 7km road up to Ghorka was unreachable due to a road block, adding a 30km detour!! Up hill of course! We reached our beautiful hotel  at 8.30pm almost 12 hours after we set off in Pokhara. Laxmi had called ahead and had organised food for us which never tasted so good! That and a warm bed was all we needed to recover for the next day!

beautiful hotel in Ghorka

Day 2 started slow and ended up never really getting on track. Laxmi and Badman felt the efforts of the day before and Karen and I were riding to far ahead to make the day flow. Causing slight frustration on both ends. In terms of location we were placed in no mans land and we either had to do another 13 hours day to reach the next village or call it quits after 6 hours of riding so we had at least somewhere to sleep. This meant that our final day to Kathmandu was going to be another epic of around 120km but we did have time to recover a little. Laxmi’s choice of hotels was impeccable with great food, awesome service and a hot shower!! 

I woke up filled with the flu the next day a little worried what affect that would have. We left early to get as much day light as possible and I felt Karen’s tension wanting to get to Kathmandu in order to get everything sorted for her flight home. I felt absolutely awful, I had lost my sense of humour or sense for adventure for that matter and my body was not dealing very well with the early morning never ending climbs and the raise in temperature riding at such lower altitudes. 

We rode 5-6 hours non stop to make as much ground as possible before having lunch. From there it was 15-16km “Nepali” flat to the beginning of a 20km climb up to the hills surrounding Kathmandu and a 16-17km descent into Kathmandu valley. There was discussion that Karen would go ahead guided by Laxmi so she would get there at a reasonable time so I did not have to feel the pressure to keep up with a body filled with the flu. I was still in zombie land and did not really engage in the conversation, my lack of attention biting me in the ass later on!!  I decided to ride with music in my ears to distract me from what was going on and to try find my happy place moving forward. Causing me even more so to withdraw into my own bubble not really paying attention to the whereabouts of the others. After an hour of riding I realised I had lost Karen and Laxmi through traffic. I looked back to see where Badman was, but when I still could not see him after 10 minutes of waiting I panicked a little.  I had no idea where I was exactly, I did not have any data on my phone so I could not download any maps, and where to go once over the hill???!! It would be dark by then also. "crap" I thought. Unhelpful thoughts entering my mind. “Laxmi and Karen must have thought I was with Badman” I talked to myself. I waited a bit longer to see if he would catch up but after 20 min there was still no sight of him. "he must have taken the bus" I thought. I took a deep breath, nothing I could do about it other than to keep riding and address the issues as they presented themselves to me. So I went on, riding this incredible climb which for some reason suited me. The colder air made my body feel better, riding alone strangely settled my mind. I felt happy again. I found my rhythm and I reached the top of the climb unexpectedly fast, just on dark. And then panic again; Kathmandu valley was in front of me and it was massive!! "Where to go from here???" I tried to ask people around me but I only got lots of smiles and nodding. One of the military officers demanded a selfie, nodding and smiling endlessly at me when I tried to figure out where to go.  “Lets descend first” I decided and with a small head torch on my helmet I dropped off the mountain as my surroundings turned into a display of little fairy lights.  

climb into the Kathmandu mountains

Kathmandu valley

I asked directions to Kathmandu a few times not really trusting the answers but I figured that at some point I would run into a tourist and I could ask. That was my plan. I now felt I was  in a game of Pac-Man where I was trying to dodge the gaping motor bikes and cars heading directly at me. I had to jump off my bike into a gutter a couple of times. I went from wanting to cry to laughing out loud and back again. This was absolute madness. I found someone who spoke good English and who seemed to know what he was talking about. “just go straight he said, you have to cross two big roads and then you will end up in Thamel” Simpel.

Crossing a road at traffic hour in Kathmandu, anything but simple! Probably one of the most insane things I have done. Throwing myself in front of traffic seemed like the only way to cross, yelling “please don’t hit me, please don’t hit me, please don’t hit me” Using my beloved mountain bike as a body shield. 

After just under 12 hours from when we set off in the morning I reached smaller touristy streets, I asked a western looking man “do you know where the International Guesthouse is?” “you are right in front of it” he answered. I never felt so relieved!

I stumbled into the hotel to the amusement of other guests, covered in dust, dirt, and smelling of 3 days of bike riding. I looked into the smiling face of one of the hotel receptionists “Yak Attack?” he asked me. “Yak Attack indeed” I answered.

In the end I was only 20 minutes behind Karen and Laxmi and they did think I was with Badman and never expected that I had to cross through Kathmandu on my own. I had to laugh about it. It had been a massive few weeks and despite the amount of stress of the final day, I felt sad to see it had come to an end. 

It was surreal to spend a day doing nothing before getting on a plane. The only day in my time in Nepal with no craziness planned. 3 weeks of absolute madness and emotions at so many levels. I strongly felt that this was only the beginning, having sparked my adventure heart in a way it had not been sparked before. With the question "whats next?" lingering on my mind.

        "Only those who will risk going to far can possibly find out how far one can go" T.S Eliot

The Yak Attack 2018; grabbing Nepal by the horns

The world health organisation defines pain as “an unpleasant sensory or emotional experience associated with actual or potential tissue damage or described in terms of such damage” 

I have been dealing with pain for close to 3 years now if not longer. I have always tried to get on with it, even on my worst days. When pain from my lower back radiates into my legs, gluteals, hamstrings all the way down into my knees. Some days my wrist hurts and my feet feel like they have knives in them. On bad days I struggle to get out of bed in the morning. I believe however that if I am not sound enough to work, I am not sound enough to ride my bike, and riding my bike is ultimately what makes me happy. I have this attitude that I would rather be on the bike in pain than laying in bed with pain. So I just keep going. I get up, and I move but the fact that I do that does not mean my pain is any less.

This year I have felt my resilience has been running on empty and after a long lasting pain flare up during the summer I have been struggling to find the motivation to keep riding. It was draining me. With the Yak Attack on my calendar I knew that I had to stay fit, and for a while it was touch and go if I would make it to the start line. I am very lucky to have a great support network in my physio Morgan, coach James and recently added chronic pain guru Rob Friel. Rob educated me about the ins and outs of chronic pain pathways and gave me an insight and trust that things would improve. But it meant I had to work hard on desensitising my central nervous system. Which in my case meant no more massive adventures for a while. 

setting off in Besisahar

With this in mind I headed to Nepal for one more final crazy MTB stage race of the season well knowingly it would have a heavy impact on my body and that after the race I would have to take a step back for an indefinite amount of time. Making me determent to soak up and enjoy every split second of this incredible opportunity to come up close with the giant peaks of the world.

I spent my first few days in Nepal riding into the mountains on my own to try and catch up with Cory, Karen and Patrick who were riding high in the mountains to acclimatise. I was used to exploring new places on my own having roamed around the world by myself for years, but I felt unusual anxious the first couple of days. “what if my bike breaks” “what if I crash” “what if I get sick” what if I cant find anywhere to sleep” I imagined myself being swept away by waterfalls. My head filled with unhelpful noise. I didn’t see many tourists and each time I passed the permit check points the same repertoire played out which did not help the situation “are you alone?” -yes “no other people” -no “no guide?” -no “no guide?” -no “no guide?” -no. A moment of silence and a stare “no guide?” - still no. Obviously not something which they were used to!! As I was moving higher into the mountains I felt more at ease and my mind finally became quiet. The scenery was spectacular and I befriended mountain guides and listened in awe to their amazing stories of adventures. I rode as high up as the Upper Pisang at 3200m, run into other mountain bikers along the way and the word “crazy” kept on coming up when I mentioned I was in Nepal for the Yak Attack!! 

road traffic

The lady of my hotel insisting on cleaning my bike 

chicken soup for the soul

Life was so simple and I felt at ease in my own company falling in love with the beauty of Nepal and its people. But this did not last. A few days before the start of the Yak Attack I woke up to very sad news from Scotland. I felt extremely heartbroken for my friends who were affected the most. I wanted to jump on a plane, head home and be there for them. I decided to dial Karen’s Nepalese number at 6am in the morning and for a moment the stars aligned and within a 5 minute phone conversation after days of no reception, our locations were shared and I headed down the mountain to meet my friends.

the colours of Nepal

rest day in Chame

Glad to be with my friends after receiving sad news, photo taken by Patrick Means

We were now about to start one of the most extreme races I had ever done and I was trying to make sense of a year which involved so much sadness and heart ache. It were my friend Kerry’s words which really hit home to me and gave my experiences with pain in the last 3 years value in a way I had not valued them before. Whilst she was in the midst of grieving the loss of her soulmate, she took the time to write to me these words of support; 

“when you feel pain on the bike, just remind yourself its not real pain. Your pain is of gaining life, gaining experience, connectedness, the world and freedom.Real pain as you have likely experienced in life already, is loss and the finality that comes with it. Remember what real pain is when your mind starts to wander. Will be thinking of you and use those as happy thoughts”

And I repeated Kerry’s words in my mind during the darkest moments of the Yak Attack, giving me strength and courage when I needed it the most.

room with a view 

My Yak Attack race plan was simple, I would ride the first two days as easy as possible to feel as little fatigued as possible once at altitude. Considering we were going from 800m to 3500m altitude in 2 days this was not as easy as it sounded. 

Imagining I was going to be swept away by waterfalls 

I had ridden most of the route towards Manang therefore the first couple of days felt mentally easy and I had riders around me most of the time to keep me focussed. The terrain was extremely slow going with endless climbs but as we made our way up the mountain we were rewarded with breathtaking views. I was in the company of the Italian duo for a while who made me laugh by joking that I had two Italian body guards to keep me safe. Then I rode up to friends Brett and Tom towards the end of the first day and the first half of day 2, who were both great company to be in and ended up playing a massive role in me riding over the finish line on the final day. On the way I learned that South American Fabricio was an off road triathlete with little MTB experience, and I played cat and mouse with Alan in the final 15 kms of day 2 making the suffering a little easier when our bodies started to scream for oxygen. I had cuddles with adventure dog Mia who herself impressively walked over the pass. I got to know Cory’s cousin Ali and her boyfriend Brad who were volunteering. I loved the stories that started to unfold and how quickly an international bunch of adventurous strangers felt like life long old friends. 

Animal therapy after a tough day on the bike 

For me the suffering started on stage 3 where we rode up to 4500m altitude in 16kms. After two solid stages and a relaxing rest day my body had nothing too give and I was grateful for the company of Christian who was struggling potentially a little more than I was with the thin air. For some reason I lost my head in the final kms of this stage and reached Thorang Pedi being an emotional mess. I was reminded of the camaraderie which forms during stage racing when people all around me quickly organised warm clothes, food and a place to relax. Although I was anxious about the effect the altitude had on me, the evening was spent so cheerful with everyone that I went to bed with a positive mind. Trying to block out the slightly scary talk we were given by an American specialist in emergency medicine about the deathly consequences of altitude sickness. 

Leaving prayer flags for Lewis 

After a restless night it was time for the mighty crossing of the pass. After only 4 days we were heading up and over 5416m altitude, climbing almost a 1000m in 5km. And where my first hour of the early morning was spent at a solid enough pace with other riders in reach enjoying the spectacular surroundings, the lights suddenly went out when I reached 5000m. I ended up in a physical and mental state I have never been before. It was like every cell in my body, every organ every muscle was screaming in pain. I could only take a few steps at a time before taking a break, using my bike to keep me upright. I had to vomit a couple of times and wanted to lay down and go to sleep. Lucky I had seen one too many Everest movies knowing that was an absolute no no. I could not control my thoughts imagining my remains being found at the 20th anniversary of the Yak Attack. I caught myself singing songs I did not know I knew the lyrics to and felt the sickest I had been in my whole entire life. I was waiting for the doctors behind to reach me and pick up the pieces but little did I know that they were slightly busy helicoptering a very ill Christian off the mountain. So I kept going one step at a time, until after many hours of suffering I could see someone waving at me from what seemed the top. It wasn’t until they asked me if I wanted some tea that I realised it wasn’t a fiction of my imagination but an actual person standing there. I made it up to 5416m, the top of Thorong La. My natural instinct was to get of that mountain as soon as possible and treat my body with the oxygen it needed but I had promised Kerry I would leave prayer flags for Lewis at the top. And whilst I clumsily attached the flags with my frozen hands to the thousands of other flags already there, I promised Lewis I would look after Kerry and make sure she would keep chasing dreams and find her happiness again. That I would be there for her to get her through this. I looked around but the beauty of the mountains and the intensity of the moment did not really register. I started to make my way down the mountain with eyes flooded in tears and a head so dizzy I was worried I would ride myself of a cliff but feeling better the lower I got filling me with an incredible sense of accomplishment.

Descending from the of Thorong La

I was more worried for the final and 5th stage than I was for the high pass. I had been so sick that I wasn’t sure if I had enough time to recover. My whole body hurt like it had never hurt before. I desperately wanted to complete the Yak Attack so it was as simple as going into survival mode. Which proved a lot harder than intended!

nothing left in the tank

On the last day everyone rode away from me as if I was standing still and I was at a point of despair at around 20kms when suddenly out of nowhere Brett appeared in the corner of my eye. “Here is your personal photographer” he said “YOU ARE HERE!!!” I sighed (a little too loudly) in relieve. I was so so so happy to see him. “I am just taking it easy’ he laughed. I couldn’t quite figure out where he had come from not realising he had been behind me the whole time. I jumped on his wheel and did my very best to keep up with him, my mind going in overdrive “please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me” repeatedly in my head and then the gap widened and tears streamed down my face whilst Brett became smaller and smaller in the distance. I saw him look back and ease up. “he is waiting, he is waiting, he is waiting” I was an absolute mess, I felt so sick. “I am not sure if I can ride the 20km downhill to the hotel after the finish” I mumbled to Brett. “lets get you over the finish line first” he answered. “Gosh I must really look bad” I thought to myself. And matters went from bad to worse. I really did not think I would get there. 

And if it hadn’t been for Brett I probably would be still out there somewhere wondering around aimlessly in circles. His patience, positive attitude and calmness guided me through the worst moments I have ever had on the bike. Kerry’s words in my mind “this is not real pain” and many tears I tried to hide from Brett. The last few kms were just a blur. The finish line in sight, the whistles, Brett waiting for me and then it was finally over. I felt so incredibly sad, stumbling to a place where I could sit down. Cameras in my face, people everywhere, voices and this incredibly overwhelming feeling of sadness. I thought I was going to pass out when I felt Tom shaking my arm trying to put my jacket on. I suddenly had to laugh. I spotted Brett. I wanted to give him a hug and thank him but I could barely hold myself upright. I was utterly, wholeheartedly, properly, insanely cooked like I had never been before.

adventure dog Mia

When I got up the next morning I was overwhelmed with the reactions from fellow riders and support crew, complementing me on my resilience. Such kind words from everyone made me feel more like a hero then the looser I thought I was. When I feared petty in their eyes I read admiration which refilled my energy levels to make for a pretty cool final day back to Pokhara. What a cool bunch of awesome people.

crossing the bridges when feeling dizzy is very scary!

The Yak Attack has been on my bucket list for such a long time and I am utterly proud I have been able to complete it. I have never felt so many emotions at once and it was truly an incredible experience and a race which should be on the bucket list of any adventurous mountain biker. A huge thanks to everyone for making it a week I will never forget. Especially a big thanks to Brett for not leaving my sight during my darkest hours, Ajay for being so super helpful an showing impeccable organisation skills, Corinne and dog Mia for the hugs and endless support, Ali for making me laugh again on the jeep ride back to the hotel after the finish and Karen for being the perfect room mate. And to all my people at home Michael, James, Morgan and Rob for all the continued support helping me chase dreams. Completing this event was definitely a team effort!

broken at the finish line with some of my favourite people

Time to get this body back on track again giving it the attention it needs to heal. Therefore 2019 is a blank page for now with may be some mini adventures to keep my mind happy. 

"Never give up, when your heart becomes tired just walk with your legs- but move on" P Coelhe