I have woken up early this morning because of the sun shining through the jeep’s windows.
I’ve been sleeping in a 4 X 4 the last few days… No, I’m not (yet) living on the streets because I spent all my last savings on the last trip, I am infact in Iceland on a filming project with the boyf. The view outside is spectacular as I write this, we drove off road to get to where we are now and today we plan on scaling one of the higher peaks to get some cool drone footage on the ridges. I’m an expert drone pilot now!
I digress. Anyway, I woke up thinking of Argentina and the tales to document on here. This to me is like an online, saved forever, diary so it’s good to note some of the big events in life.
Tim and I woke up early in anticipation for summit day. We were climbing in Cordon del Plata. It’s home to endless 5000-6000 metre peaks and no one heads there because everyone flocks to Aconcagua in order to cross out one of the seven summits.
We had gone to Argentina with the intention of climbing it but were told when buying permits that the price had gone to winter prices (£1000!!!) and that we couldn’t go without a guide. Screw that! It’s not worth it! So on we went to seek out a less commercialised area with no rules, permits or people. We found out about Cordon del Plata and knew we’d hit the jackpot.
2015 is over and we are well into the epic year that is 2016.
I thought I’d take a look back at 2015 with all of its highs and its lows. And although it went like the clappers, I managed to fit rather a lot in.
Fairly well into the start of 2015, my world crashed down on me a little. Relationship status changed/crashed and burned and job contracts came to their end. However, all of this, which at the time seemed like the doom of all dooms, worked out to be the very best thing that could have happened to me.
If I hadn’t have had those gloomy days, I don’t think I would have been so in search of adventure and, dare I say it, ‘finding myself’ and remembering what makes me happy again. Sorry that’s cheese but true.
People are nice. We forget this and assume the whole world is out to get us.
My faith for humanity was restored to me on the first day of my Spanish 500 mile hike that began and ended at the coast. I went through the Picos mountain range and into some very remote areas where people were sparse.
I had been walking for 8 and a half hours and my body wasn’t acclimatised at all. My pack weighed 26kg (more than it should’ve because I’d decided to self support as well as bringing all my camera equipment.)
It rubbed my hips with each step but it didn’t seem to bother me until I took a glance at them the following evening- red raw and lumpy.