Two years in France; Owning my story and writing a happy ending

When I was about 16 years old and studying for my final school exams the police came to our house. I remember the flashing lights and two men in uniform when I opened the door. ‘Is your mother home’ I was asked. “No” I responded. The men looked at each other ‘Ah ok’ they said ‘would you be able to identify this man’ they asked pointing at my father who was stumbling out of the police vehicle. “Yes’ I answered “he is my father” 

My father was found heavily intoxicated in his car on the side of the road with a knife in his hands wanting to end his life. “Thank you officers” I nodded as my dad went inside. One of the police men hesitated leaving, he looked at me ‘would you like us to call social services ‘ he asked me. He was young, probably not much older than 25, he had big kind brown eyes in an open and honest face. He did not look away from me as he waited for my response. One of those rare moments I felt someone cared about what effect this incident had on me. “ no thank you” I replied “we have it covered” I smiled at him whilst fighting back the tears.

before my father spend his life going in and out of psychiatric hospitals he was a top businessman for Heineken

This was not the first time my dad had tried to take his own life and it would not be the last. He was a dark  complicated man. People who were lucky enough to have only known his good side would have loved his charisma and positive energy. He could be endlessly generous if he wanted to be. He had a sense of humour which would make you laugh so much you cried. He had a kindness which would feel protective and he had a way of making you think like you could conquer the world in his company. People who were unfortunate enough to only know his bad side would know he was a dangerous man, that he would destroy anyone getting in the way of his ambitions in a blink of an eye. That he could be ruthless, abusive, manipulative and hurtful, cutting deep down to the core. Nothing would get in the way of his success.

For the few people like my sister and I who had witnessed almost every corner of his diseased soul, my father was a man who’s abuse had no limits or boundaries. Nor did his kindness. The complexity of these two extreme sides of his personality and having this man as our father gave my sister and I a lifetime fighting the demons he had created.

 

This summer, two years after my fathers death, a 20 year legal battle involving a family property on the coast of Normandy finally came to an end. My sister and I had merely been a couple of names on a legal document from my parents divorce. Even though we tried, legally we had not been able to make any decisions towards the house yet we had been held accountable for the negligence regarding the property. Involving a threatening court case to try and hold us responsible for all the ignored costs involved with the upkeep of the house including many years of ignored tax bills by my parents. 

At the beginning of this legal nightmare I wanted to fight, I wanted to renovate this beautiful house, in a way I wanted to save the house as a symbol of our broken childhood. I wanted something good to come of it. But when I saw how much stress this was causing my sister I decided we had to stay a united front and stepping away from the house would be the last disconnect needed to finally feel free from our parents.

endless adventures with Mac and Yann

living my dream of mountain sports 

My backyard 

learning to ski steep gradients in all conditions

This summer also marks my first 2 years in the French Alps. How time flies.

I am living the life of my dreams right now, France has given me all I yearned for and more. When people tell me ‘you are so lucky’ however, I feel defensive. Not because I do not feel like I am lucky or that I do not appreciate what a beautiful part of the world I get to live in. But it was a tough and rough road to get here and I had to swim against a strong current to make it happen. It was not luck that led me to the life I am living right now, it was my choices to keep fighting for the life I wanted. And these choices were never easy. 

Making friends through a shared passion

When I left Europe at the age of 20 and moved to New Zealand, all I wanted was to let go of the broken version of me and start over. Feeling robbed of a childhood, robbed of a carefree adolescence, and where as a child I did not have a choice, I decided that as an adult I could choose my future. And I chose to fight for my pursuit of happiness. Which after roaming around the world like a gypsy for many years led me to the mountains. And in the last two years I have soaked up everything it had to offer me. 

Meeting Yann on top of a mountain during Covid I see as my little miracle 

This winter I raced my first ski alpinism season, turned myself inside out on vertical climbs, chased Yann for  hours over mountainous ridges and down steep exposed gullies, I claimed many podiums including a national title being the current Dutch national champion ski alpinism. With age, injury and experience, I now know how relative these podiums are, and although I enjoy climbing on top of them they really do not mean anything and they certainly do not define who I am anymore. I still race because I love how it challenges me to progress and because of the people I get to do these events with. It has given me friends all over the world from all different backgrounds bonded by a shared passion. 

winning the Dutch Champs 

Racing with Yann

racing Ski Alpinisme is a dream come true

This summer I ran my first true mountain marathon known as one of the most technical trail races in France, if not in the world. 55kms with 4000m of climbing following ridge lines and via ferrata cables and down endless rock gardens. A wet thundery day made it even more tricky staying upright on the gnarly descents. I am hopeless at downhill running let alone technical downhill running, and it is not something that my overactive central nervous system likes. The unpredictability of rough terrain generally produces immediate pain. So why did I line up? Well I like a challenge, I love wild mountainous courses, and the only way to improve is to keep at it. All I had to do was move forward and enjoy a day in the mountains. So all I did was move forward, and I enjoyed a tough beautiful rough day in the mountains with probably the least amount of nerve pain I have had running in years. As usual in French races the support around the course was amazing. In the last 10kms Yann found me and I run a few kms with my favourite training buddy Mac. On the final  climb I had jumped 20 places coming mid field in the overall classification, just outside the top 10 overall females and 3rd in my category. I expected to be at the very end of the field. And although results are all relative to who shows up, this time it meant something to me. When Yann told me his parents had driven close to an hour to watch me finish I had to fight back the tears. With 2kms to go I spotted them sitting on a rock  “allez Nienke” they yelled at me. I felt overwhelmed by the support not only by them but also by the Dutch National Alpine federation who were there with runners as it counted as the Dutch National Ultra trail running championships. I could not stop smiling, I managed a great run, on a great technical course during which I had made some great new friends. It was a perfect day in the mountains.

knowing I will make the finish line

Feeling emotional having Mac, Yann and his parents at the finish

A week later I signed the last document making the sale of our family house official. It felt like a huge relief combined with intense sadness. Finally the feeling of letting go of something so toxic. Since my fathers passing I have caught myself mentioning him more and more in conversations. I have let my thoughts go to the memories, some of them making me smile. Some of them make me wake up crying in the middle of the night. I have spent so many years hiding from this. Although I do not want to be a victim, I feel like my endless amount of dark stories have shaped me just as much as the stories which people find inspiring. As much as I have tried, there is no way I can dissociate them from each other.

I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)

One of my best friends is currently confronting her family with her own fathers abuse. “I have so many questions” she said to me and I want to yell at him, I want to scream at him. When I said to her that she probably would never get the answers she is longing for she answered “I know that and I do not care, I simply refuse to be silenced” Her strength struck me. Although heartbroken she was owning her story. 

If I could have a dinner party with any 5 people dead or alive, one of them would be my father. I would want to ask him my million questions just like my best friend was going to ask her father. I would want to get to know him as an adult and I would like him to get to know me as an adult. And although he would never be able to give me what I ached for,  I would want to look him in the eye with all the horrible hidden truths exposed and find it in my heart to forgive him. I am not there yet.

Family does not need to be blood related 

In the French Alps I have found my happy place. Somewhere I can disappear into the mountains and find silence when my mind is noisy. Somewhere with people around me who treat me as family and people who live a little further afar who feel like family to me. I have a job where I am appreciated and have been trusted to start leading a team of vets which I have been really enjoying. I am learning to allow myself to feel at ease. Still a work in progress. But with that feeling of trust comes a certain desire to be known, to start sharing my story. To own my journey. And if I can help one person feel a little less lonely by doing that, it will be worth the vulnerability that comes with it. 

A home is built of love and dreams

'When we have the courage to walk into our story and own it, we get to write the ending' Brene Brown 

Le Belle Etoile 2022; A crash course in ski alpinisme racing

For many years now I have been following mountain athletes like Killian Jornet, Emily Forsberg, Laetitia Roux to name a few, and I have been in awe of the ski alpinisme races they were performing in. Dreaming that may be one day I would have the skills needed to attempt one of these epic events high in the mountains myself. 

When I moved to the French Alps the summer of 2020 and entered my first winter, I had previously done 2 weeks of ski touring in Norway and a handful of outings with friends in Chamonix over the years. I did not know how to do a kick turn up a climb properly, I had only used crampons once, I never had done a Via Ferrata nor had I much experience climbing or scrambling over ridge lines as narrow as the width of your foot at breath taking heights. Yet I had traversed the Nepalese Himalayas on a mountain bike solo and knew what suffering in the mountain entailed. 

I have wondered sometimes if it is my personality or if I have been lucky to be in the company of people who have a simple way of looking  at progress "if you do not know how to do something you learn how to" 

I was first introduced to ski mountaineering by Alex Dimitrioux who took me on a ski tour in Chamonix where I was at my limit following him up and down the mountains and who turned my negative view from "I can't" to "show me how to”

Meeting Yann last year I met someone who understood my drive instantly, someone who not only understood it but nurtured it as well. Yann had done almost all the classics ski alpinism races including a bucket list event for me the Pierra Menta, a 4 day Ski Alpinisme race in France, reserved for the best of the best in this sport. I was accepted in Yann's group of mountain friends instantly. They helped me learn, progress and continuously inspired me to practice, practice and practice so I could keep up with them in the mountains which is very much still a work in progress! 

learning the way of the mountains with Yann

I have never felt I have been someone who has an enormous amount of talent, but what I can do is work hard. And when I mentioned wanting to do the Belle Etoile, a 3 day ski alpinisme race which is a qualifier race for the Pierra Menta, Yann's reaction was a little reserved. It is hard he said, you need to really work on your downhill skiing, and work on being able to perform the transitions from skiing to skinning back to skiing fast, including putting crampons off and on and putting your skis on your back. 

This year I invested in my own set of skis instead of using Yann’s kit which was a little to big for me. As soon as the snow arrived I practiced, practiced and practiced. Spending big days in the mountains searching for the steepest corners of the edge of the ski resort to become comfortable with steep gradients but not needing a massive day in the mountains to find those descends. I got as much skiing in as I could, working on Yann’s feed back on what I needed to work on. “Your skis have to become an extension of your feet” he said. 

skiing steep terrain with Mac

The next challenge was finding someone who wanted to do the Belle Etoile with me. Yann was doing it with his friend and team mate for the Pierra Menta, Antoine. When I asked people who had much more mountain experience than me, they would answer it was too hard, “may be next year with more training”. May be I wanted too much too soon. I had almost given up on the idea until I received an email from Nina 4 weeks before the race. She had seen my post on the organisers Facebook page that I was looking for someone. Nina had the same objective as I had, solely getting to the finish line and enjoying the experience. Before she had a chance to change her mind I had entered us. And so the madness began!

skiing a morning with Yann and posters to improve my downhill

I met Nina the evening of the prologue, we did not know each other, let alone skied together, yet we immediately got along and I could not have asked for a better team mate for my first event. Although Nina had a lot more skiing experience than me living in the South Alps, it was also her first “grand course” of ski alpinism. The blind leading the blind you could say.

The evening stage was relatively “easy” being at night and staying on the pistes for safety reasons. The speed however and the amount of technical change overs from skiing to climbing to skiing to a “portage” which means skis on back and on foot up steep gradients, was incredible for such a short course. We were blown away by the high level of athletes in this race, from olympians to world champions and UTMB winners, this sport was for the elites and we were certainly not elites in this sport! But we stood our ground and were happy not to get lost in it all!

Saturday was a different story. My mind was blown on the Saturday stage. Probably one of the hardest races I have ever done. The speed at which these athletes do very technical transitions, technical traverses over ridge lines and technical downhills is difficult to process it being a newbie in this sport. 

Where my strength lay purely in the speed I could go uphill, Nina’s brilliance lay in her ability to stay calm and focussed during the transitions, her technical skills in the multiple kick turns and her down hill skiing ability. Everything but I mean everything was done at full speed during these races. You would be pulling your skins of your skis with a heart rate sitting a max as fast as you could. Who knew that putting your boot into your ski could be so difficult when you are gasping for air??

Even though I had studied the course before hand I lost count of the amount of transitions during the day. In the end I felt we were actually really strong in our transitions leaving the area often before other teams who were already there when we arrived. Following Nina on the downhills was a challenge for me. It is hard to explain how fast and how technical the off piste descents were. They involved little narrow “couloirs” at 40% gradients if not steeper at times in all sorts of ski conditions, from soft powder to hard crust and icy slopes. The race skis are super light, narrow skis which are difficult to ski at the best of times, let alone at high speeds. My legs were burning and I felt everything BUT in control chasing Nina down the mountain. When my race brain is in action however it simply does not let me slow down as much as I want to try! 

We were unlucky on Saturday when we got stuck behind people for at least 30min on a ridge line (strava has evidence of this!) and therefore missed the cut off time for the final 300m climb and were redirected on course B which was the two day course. Although happy with our race we were a bit disappointed when we got told by the organisers we would get a two and half hour(! ) penalty for this or we could chose to do the B course on Sunday and our time would count in their results. Either was not ideal because we had done a lot more climbing on the Saturday compared to the B course, and we also had the prologue already in our legs. But at the end of the day we there for the experience. When we looked at the B course for Sunday it only missed out a climb and descent on piste compared to the A course which made the B course much more interesting for us.

finding team flow with Nina

With what felt like very little rest we were back on the start line on Sunday morning ready for another speedy day in the mountains. Where Nina’s fears were the climbs I was worried about the downhills because I had not really enjoyed them on the Saturday. We started a bit higher on Sunday which meant we had to take a chairlift and ski down to the start. It got me in a frozen state and I did not feel good. The race started with an icy technical kick turn climb (not my strength) and we were stuck behind people. I struggled to find my rhythm feeling nauseas and worried for the remainder of the day. Surprisingly chasing Nina on the downhills on Saturday had progressed my skiing some what and I could keep her insight. Feeling a lot more in control I started to enjoy the high speeds we were flying down the mountain passing a few teams in the process. The ridges on Sunday were more exposed and technical and involved scrambling up icy rock on crampons at close to 3000m altitudes as fast as we could go whilst being attached to a fixed rope with Via Ferrata kit. Clip, unclip, clip unclip, clip unclip as fast as you can following the rope over a narrow ridge line. What I love most about racing is that your brain is so focussed on moving forward fast, there is no room for fear. You are climbing up with your heart rate close to max, and only focus on your feet, your hands, the ropes, the rock and ridges ahead of you, it is like all the movements become automatic after a while trying to be most efficient. I love how calm my brain becomes whilst doing this. 

transitioning from skinning to skiing as fast as possible

As the day got on Nina and I became more and more relaxed. We laughed with our fellow competitors, chatted to the awesome volunteers, powered up the climbs and flew down the descents, I felt like the second half of the Sunday we started really flowing well together, complementing our strengths and weaknesses and it was pretty cool to feel that team spirit. 

We were pretty happy to see the finish line and that we were able to complete this incredible tough course, our crash course into ski alpinisme racing! Close to 5 hour days at full speed was hard! With only a few female teams entered we managed a 3rd place in the B course which was the icing on the cake. 

Unfortunately Antoine was ill after a very strong start with Yann and could not race on Sunday. Luckily  Yann was allowed to race solo but without a number on his back which still made for a good training day which he was happy about. Our other room mates Jules and Martin had a very strong performance coming top third in this very elite field.

It is hard to describe how tough this sport of ski alpinisme is and how many skill sets you need to have to be able to do well at it. It has certainly blown my mind but it was equally one of the coolest experiences I have had racing. It has inspired me to keep working at it to become faster and the Pierra Menta is on my bucket list now more than ever!

I feel lucky to have been accepted by Yanns friends showing me life in the mountains

Since I have been living in the mountains I have been able to tick off one bucket list event after an other. I can not thank Yann and his friends enough for taking the time to teach me, to support me and inspire me to keep on learning, keep on dreaming and keep on progressing. 

A big thanks to Hammer Nutrition  who has made a real difference for me in recovery and proper race fuelling which has been a weakness of mine for years and which I can now turn into a strength. 

Whats next? No rest for the wicked, more ski alpinisme races of course!

"Be willing to be a beginner every single morning"

The Saintelyon; impossible is nothing

I had it already written out in my head what this blog would be about. The journey called the Saintelyon Ultra Trail and the positive experience it would give me. May be because I dreamt about doing it so much and how incredible it would feel completing that ultra distance in an iconic race such as the Saintelyon that it set me up for disappointment. I cried at the finish line, actually I cried most of the distance. And they were not tears of happiness as I had imagined it in my head but it was sadness that creeped into my body. Sadness that I still was not able to control my pain issues, no matter how hard I worked, no matter what I did, the chronic pain bear would keep on screaming at me and during the Saintelyon he screamed louder than he had for a long long time.

The funny thing was the race itself was everything I had dreamt off, if not more. Standing on the start line just before midnight with thousands of other exited runners whilst large snow flakes tumbled endlessly out of the sky is an experience I will never forget. I do not like people, I do not like crowds or hypes, yet standing there with all those people felt like magic. United by a shared passion and slight madness wanting to run 78kms of hilly trails through a snow storm and bitter cold temperatures. 

I had read blogs about this race and I experienced everything my fellow runners had written about it. The thousands of little lights weaving through the dark country side, through the snow, through enchanted forests. It literally took my breath away at times which had nothing to do with the physical exertion. There were people dancing, people singing, volunteers supporting all along the course deep into the night and early morning hours. They must have been freezing cold, wet and tired but yet we were celebrated as the heroic ones running past them through the night. The camaraderie amongst the runners was incredible, I have loved the ultra trail running world from a distance for a long time but never experienced firsthand what it would feel like to be part of it. And it felt incredible. 

Before running the Saintelyon I watched “long shorts” a film about legendary runners Francois D’Haene and Courtney Dauwalter, in which they explained that focussing on a time you want to run or a placing you want to get has no meaning in running ultra’s as the uncertainty of making it to the finish line is simply to big. So the one goal in running ultra’s is the finish line, however long it might take you. And I held on to those words for dear life for the 11 hours it took me to complete my first Ultra. 

 So why the sadness? My whole year had been about dreams turning into reality, from skiing my first couloirs during the winter to climbing Mont Blanc, from standing on a European podium in a mountain bike marathon to completing 6x 4000+m peaks in one day, learning to rock climb and completing my first multi pitch route. I was living my dream life. I don’t think I have ever felt this happy, this accepted anywhere, this at home. But it came at a cost, and I was confronted with that when I lost someone mid summer who had meant the world to me. Who had loved me and cared for me in an unconditional way which I had taken for granted and when she needed me the most I could not be there for her (due to covid restrictions) in the same way she had always been there for me. I had not even taken the time to say goodbye to her when I left Scotland because I thought I would see her again shortly.

Erin coming over to visit

When I returned back to France from Scotland after the funeral I struggled letting go of her and the overwhelming confrontation I had felt when realising the amount of love she had for me and how I was appreciated also by other close friends I had left behind. My reaction to this feeling of sadness was the only way I knew how to, pushing my body. So I started running, cycling, and going on epic mountain adventures, turning every outing into a smash fest and the more I pushed myself the more my body started falling apart. Until it gave me no other choice and I had to stop and reset. What I have learned now though is to reach out, I learnt that if you open up a little to the right people, the support is there. And even though I still feel very new in France, I am so lucky to be surrounded by the loveliest of friends who understood and helped me cope by just being there for me.

Erin, Yann and Mac watching sunrise 

Running the Saintelyon was a last minute decision after one of my favourite adventure buddies Erin had come over from Scotland and we had run the Tour de `Dents Blanches in one day, a 30km mountainous technical route with 3000m ascend which is normally a 2-3 week trekking route. The tour had been on my bucket list since I had moved to the Haute Savoie and it was such an amazing day being able to show Erin my backyard and share such an epic experience with her. These type of outings always inspire me to dream bigger. The original plan was the 45km course, but then I knew I could run the 45kms already so I signed up for the 78kms after asking Yann if he thought I could do it since I had only 6 weeks left to get ready for it.

 I knew downhill running was my enemy so in the weeks leading up to the event I focussed on downhill running form and I felt I was getting stronger, faster and experienced less and less pain running downhill. My longest run was 46kms 4 weeks out from the race and I felt really comfortable running 20-30km long runs in training. It gave me a confidence in my body which I had not experienced for such a long time and it made me very happy.      

climbing during the summer 

 

The problem with the Saintelyon was that it is run at night so visibility on technical parts of the trail is difficult, conditions were very icy, snowy and cold, making the course even more unpredictable. And my brain, or central nervous system should I say, does not like unpredictability. And when I slipped and hit the ground hard in the first 10km’s I immediately experienced a pain flare up. Like tooth ache in my legs, I knew this feeling all too well, and as I ticked off the km’s, the pain spread to my ankles, knees, and wrists joints, it moved around my body like flickering Christmas lights. I was not even 18km’s in when I started to doubt if I could bare the pain for another 8 or so hours. And it made me feel incredibly sad. I knew there was nothing structurally wrong, I knew I could run 30-40kms without this amount of pain in training, I knew I had not gone to fast and blown up, I knew I had stuck strictly to my nutrition plan and that my heart and lungs felt strong. And yet the pain I could not control. The climbs would give me the least amount of pain when the downhills and flats were agonisingly painful. So I made a pact with myself, I would push on the climbs and survive on the downhills. It did not matter how long it would take me or how much pain I would have to endure. I was there to finish. This is what I wanted.

Without sounding airy fairy, I believe there are certain people who have come into my life who I share a certain energy with and somehow they seem to show up either in a message, a phone call or in person when I need them the most. One of those people for me is Yann which makes sharing my life and adventures with him so easy. Another one of those people is Edwina who I found on the internet when I was searching people to run with when I first moved to Montriond. A mother of 3, a professional runner, a running coach with a smile so big it can light up the darkest room in seconds. I met Edwina the first time when I tried to ski as many meters ascend in one day and she was the only one crazy enough to join me on parts of it. Edwina was running the Saintelyon double 156kms! With over 6000 people on course it would be unlikely I would find her in the dark of the night. Yet on the highest part of the course, climbing up in the snow, I slipped and reached out for a hand, and the hand which grabbed mine was Edwina’s.  A magic moment. Eddie was in 2nd placed female and 16th overall absolutely smashing this course. Her energy and positivity inspired me to stay strong and motivated me to keep running. 

Eddie 

I saw Eddie again with 11-12kms to go and I was in a world of pain, not being able to contain my tears as she tried to cheer me up “its only 11kms" she said, "break it up in your head, 6kms mainly flat and then 5km up and down which will be mainly walking and swirly, you can do this.” I wanted to be positive because I knew she must have been so tired herself but all I could mumble was “ok” whilst trying to smile.

 I kept on saying in my head “I am safe, I am ok, I am safe, I am ok” to shut up the chronic pain bear something I was told to do when experiencing a flare up. I calculated the time in my head, 8kms, if I keep running at this pace its less than 50min, 5kms to go, the ups and downs will start, river crossings, steps, more steps, steps up, steps down, swirling, over the bridge, 3kms to go, I was catching other runners. 1.5kms to go. I saw Yann, I tried to smile, 1kms to go. Yann run with me, I tried to pick up the pace, volunteers applauding, I was going to make it. With the finishing hall in site the pain became less. I run into the hall, people applauding, so many people applauding, I finished. Everything became a blur, more tears, finishers medal, finishers t-shirt, 78kms, 2200m ascend, 11 hours, I searched a place to sit down and waited for Yann.

and yes it did feel good in the end

A couple of days on from the race and I have had time to reflect and stopped feeling sorry for myself and my sadness has been replaced by pride, happiness and that satisfying feeling I thought I would feel at the finish line. I am not sure how I run 78kms that night whilst having a pain flare up, but I did it.  When normally pushing through the pain would cause a flare up which would take me months to settle, and although I could not stand on my feet for 24 hours after the race, I could ski the next day (albeit like an 80yo woman) and I bounced back surprisingly quickly. It felt like I kicked the chronic pain bear's ass well and truly and he was a bit subdued by it.

Ultra trail recovery

When I started my road of recovery with James and the team at Meta, physio’s Morgan, and Rob in 2018, I remember asking Morgan “do you think I will run again” he answered me without a doubt in his voice “yes you will” I am not sure if even he thought I would run an ultra trail through the middle of the night in a snow storm 3 years later.

 Yann mentioned to me during the summer that I am someone who always looks ahead, one adventure or challenge has been done and I am already looking at the next one, not often realising or appreciating the magnitude of what I have achieved. I suppose part of that had to do with not wanting to use my childhood experiences as an excuse, never wanting to be a victim, so I never wanted to look back, my survival mechanism was looking forward, the best is yet to come. It had to be. 

But Win’s passing this summer did confront me with how that might come across, as if I continuously left things behind good an bad. I had the chance to let Win know what she meant to me before she passed and as always with people who understand you, she already knew without me having to explain it. And when I look around in my little apartment she is everywhere in little gifts she has given me over the years, not because I have taken them with me because they had sentimental value, but simply because she knew the things I loved. 

 Winter has returned to the Alps and it is starting to look rather Christmassy. Utterly happy I have had already two days of epic skiing in my empty legs and I still have to pinch myself that this is my life. This is the life I have dreamt of living. And I am doing it with my bucket list ever growing. This winter I will be racing my first season of ski alpinism!! 

Yann and Mac

As always I have so many people to thank for helping me chase my dreams; James, Morgan, Rob, who clued the broken pieces back together. All the people at my work Joii especially the founders Robert, Sarah and Paul for having a vision, for listening to staff and really wanting to make a difference improving mental health for veterinary professionals whilst wanting to help people with their pets.Without the ability to change my job to working remotely, I would not be living this life right now. My beautiful talented sister who I will be hoping to run the Ultra Trail of Mont Blanc with in 2023. All my friends who have reached out over the years when things were tough and applauded me when things were easy, I really never leave anyone behind, with every step I take, I take all of them with me. And Win, I will do my utter best to make her proud.

                                                                                      

                                                                          For Win

 I have put on a flowery dress because you requested colours

My hair left our the way you loved my curls 

I am wearing the jewellery you have given me, 

Refusing to buy me any more sports gear 

I will try and look at this sad day through your sparkling eyes 

Finding humour in the littlest of things 

I will try not to cry, I know that would only break your heart 

And I will remember you, 

I will always remember you

                                                                         

12 months in France; Conquering the magical Summit of Mont Blanc

For many years when on holiday I have stared up into the sky in awe of the beauty of Mont Blanc. It was one of the reasons I wanted to make Haute Savoie my home. There is something so magical almost mysterious about the highest summit in Europe. I have always felt that mountains run through my veins, they warm up my heart, and inspire my soul. They make me dream.

Mac also in awe of Mont Blanc

Moving to Montriond in the French Alps meant I had close access to a world I was so inspired by. I started exploring through the mountains with my little adventure pup Mac and tried to learn as much as possible about weather patterns, snow conditions and avalanche risk assessments. With Covid and my slightly anti social personality I found it difficult to meet people who could help me enter the world of alpinism. And I often wondered how I could get into climbing mountains without having the money to spend on a guide or mountaineering courses.

Instant adventure buddies 

Until one afternoon I rushed out of my little apartment after work to get a ski tour in before dark. I wanted to see if I could climb 800m in less than an hour on ski’s, something which I had seen on instagram. With my heavy freestyle ski’s and boots and Mac to chase I headed up the mountain at full speed. In the far distance I could see a figure which I used to push myself harder and try to catch up with. When I finally passed him, still going at full speed, I realised it was my neighbour and one of my landlord Gerard best friends, about whom I had heard an awful lot but never officially met. “You know who I am?” he asked whilst following me up the mountain “I am Yann” he said “Gerard’s friend” 

Yann and I became instant adventure buddies that day. There was an immediate understanding for each others passions, drive and a mutual desire to chase dreams.  I found my kindred spirit in the mountains and Yann opened to me the world of mountaineering. 

learning to use ice axes and crampons

During the winter months I learned about using crampons, ice axes and climbing ropes. I got used to being comfortable in the most dramatic mountainous settings. Yann taught me about the mountains, its inhabitants, its weather, its dangers and its attractions. And the more I learned the more I got hooked. As soon as the weather warmed up Yann took me rock climbing, the fundamentals for alpinism he said. From an absolute scaredy cat at the start, I learned to have trust in equipment, I learned about different type of knots, about assessing rock faces and where to place my hand and feet, I learned about what my body could and could not do. And I learned to trust my increasing strength, skills and ability.

always with an eye on Mont Blanc

Every adventure presented to me I would say yes

I had met someone who continuously inspired me to try harder, to progress, to push forward but at the same time who also made me accept my inexperience and made me take a step back when I needed it. 

Getting used to heights 

Every adventure presented to me by Yann I would say yes to. Yes.Yes.Yes. I can, I want, I will, let’s go. And from Yann in return I heard a lot of “no, no, no” when I asked him to take me on his ski mountaineering adventures, often beyond my skill sets. Or when I had planned my own adventure which proved too dangerous he would lecture me. “It is difficult for me sometimes” said Yann to me “to keep you safe” “you are atypical” “you will never give up and never say no and fear does not stop you from doing things you don’t have the skills for” “You have the mental and physical strength to follow me but you will need to gain more experience, it is a simple as that” Sometimes it would be difficult not be able to go with him but I learned to listen and respect Yann’s opinion. 

learning all about rock climbing

I had put our upcoming Mont Blanc trip in the back of my mind as an earlier trip planned to ski Mont Blanc was cancelled due to bad weather and I was left feeling very disappointed when that happened. When it was time to go Yann made sure I knew that climbing Mont Blanc was not some walk in the park like many people suggested it was. "You are at altitude, it is the highest mountain in Europe, it might not be the most technical one but it still is a very dangerous one” he said. We studied the weather forecast and my excitement grew. Although conditions were far from perfect it was good enough to jump in the van, pick up Yann’s friends Yannick and Clement who we were teaming up with and drive to the foot of the Mont Blanc where another adventure was about to begin. 

The first hut; Refuge de tete Rousse at 3100m was situated just below Le Couloir de la mort, the name given to the steep technical ascend of about 750m to get to the refuge the Gouter. Due to dangerous rock falls many people had lost their lives on this part of the ascend. We decided to stay here the first and night and reach for the Summit the next day so we had a couple of different opportunities to get up Mont Blanc with the second night planned at 3800m in the Refuge the Gouter.

calm before the storm at Tete Rousse

Wind had picked up and the weather did not look great. Yann was pessimistic (which he never really is) “if we make it to Dome the Gouter, that is already an achievement” he said. My heart sank. A discussion started. “I understand if we have to turn around because it is too dangerous” I said, “but if it is because it is too difficult or too uncomfortable I want to keep going” “I am not scared of suffering” “I am ready to suffer” I laughed  “Let’s stay optimistic” I insisted. “Even if I have to crawl over the ridge on my hand and feet to the summit, I want to at least know I have tried”

Clement and Yannick

In only a few hours a bond had already formed in our little group, funny how with people who share the same passion this happens so quickly. We all just clicked. With a simple look, a smile, a familiar gesture things were understood quickly which made communication in these extreme circumstances so much easier. 

We decided to push for the Summit at 4am the next morning. The wind was blowing a gale, we could hear the rock fall while heading into the couloir. Yann set a fast pace wanting to be ahead of other groups and spend as little time as possible on this dangerous part of the ascend. In less than two hours we made it to Gouter and it was here that it turned tough, I could barely stand up right let alone push through the wind. Visibility would come and go so quickly which made navigating just that little harder. We crossed groups which had turned around making their way down. The altitude got to me and I did not feel that great. One foot in front of the other, I knew this feeling all too well. I looked back at Clement and Yannick, body language revealed we were all suffering. The wind was so loud I could barely hear my own thoughts which was probably not a bad thing! Yann turned and looked at us, “we will turn around at Dome du Gouter” he said. It was simply too tough. There was no visibility and the wind was relentless. I felt a little sense of relieve. 

le couloir du mort 

 

But as we climbed over the Dome the clouds cleared and we could see Vallot Hut in the far distance at nearly 4400m. “Lets try” Yann said “we are going to the summit” 

I was struggling. My lungs screaming for oxygen, my head about to explode, everything I was wearing felt tight, especially my climbing helmet. My stomach turning every step I took. My whole body was hurting. The feeling of altitude sickness. Acclimatisation like Yannick and Clement had done before hand was probably not a bad thing I thought to myself. “All you have to do is keep moving forward” I heard Yann behind me. And so I did.

heading for the summit 

More groups turning around and the mountain ahead of us started to look deserted, we kept progressing at a desent pace. A guide who was a friend of Yann’s was ahead of us “if he turns around so we will” that was the plan. It got steeper and more technical in places, the ridges turned narrower, the snow deeper and the wind even stronger. At one point I dropped to my hand and knees holding on for dear life to my ice ax and my crampons pinned into the snow whilst 100km/hr winds tried to blow us off the Bosses ridge line. ‘Well I asked for this” I laughed to myself. We were not far from the summit when we crossed Guillome making his way down. “The summit is not far now" he said "go get it" This is very much the limit in terms of weather” he yelled into the wind to Yann whilst shaking his head. 

100km/hr winds going over the Bosses ridge on the way down

Making it to the summit was a surreal feeling, I could not stand because of the wind, my climbing rope flying circles around my face. My goggles filling up with tears. I looked at Yann, Clement, Yannick. We had made it. An intense feeling of gratitude. 5 years ago I could barely walk up a hill without experiencing a lot of pain. And now I stood on top of Mont Blanc. I thought of my friends, some of which who are going through a very tough time, some of which who’s pain won’t be able to be taken away like mine. Life is so fickle, so fragile. I felt so lucky I was able to do this and the difficult conditions made it that much more special. “Le Mont Blanc est toujours la” I had heard guides tell their clients. 

This might be true for Mont Blanc but not for people who do not get to see out their lives. Who are simply not that fortunate. I believe the moment is now (within safety margins), grab it, embrace it, love it and live it. 

Making our way down Mont Blanc sledging!

Although luck did play in our hands with the skies clearing as we went up higher, I was proud that our little group had the fitness levels, the mountain skills, and the mental ability to push hard to create a window of opportunity for ourselves so we we were able to reach for the stars. 

clear views heading to Vallot 

Mont Blanc for me was not some goal I had to tick off. I felt it was only a start. An experience gained. Coming home I was even more inspired to learn, to improve my skills and to go again and again, to become smoother, better, and faster. Yann said to me on our return “ Mont Blanc a fait de toi un Alpiniste, maintenant il faut faire de toi un montagnarde”

Yann has opened the world of mountaineering to me

Life has changed so much for me in the last 12 months. And it is not that I do not have difficult days or that my body is pain free. But I have never felt more inspired, felt more positive to keep fighting for what I believe is worth fighting for. And with that believe I feel stronger than ever. 

A huge thanks to Yann, Yannick and Clement for an experience which is engraved in my heart.

“Once we believe in ourselves, we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight, or any experience that reveals the human spirit” EE Cummings.