Climbinit - 3 European Peaks - Teide

The Island of Tenerife attracts hordes of tourists looking for an inexpensive sunny getaway. The package holiday machine ensures that by day the sun is soaked in by the pool and by night the inexpensive nightlife is taken full advantage of.

However for a hiker Tenerife can too be a true gem of a destination as the island is home to some of the most beautiful and natural scenery around, all available on a tidy budget. Best known, the centrally located Teide National Park, is home to Pico del Teide. With its summit of 3718 metres above sea level, Pico del Teide is the worlds third highest active volcano (measured from the sea bed) and also Spains highest peak. Though still active, Teides last eruption of 1909 has faded from memory and the volcanic cone is now a major tourist attraction. Most visitors will make their way up Teide via the precariously dangling cable car, which for 25 Euros will whisk you to the top viewing platform within eight or so minutes and back down again once you've had your fill. Visitors are free to go for a little wander around the main cone which almost symmetrically towers up a further 200 meters to the true summit.

A summit that is restricted to all but those with an advance permit from the authorities. Hiring a car is a practical solution for those who wish to explore the island and pretty much a necessity if you're planning on climbing Teide. Public transport links are sparse and links to the starting point are non-existent. The main TF-21 road passes through the national park and is where the trek to the summit begins. Approximately 2km down the road from where the cable car and visitor centre is located, is a small layby were hikers start their journey along the official route (Route Number 7). As this is a protected area you're reminded by official notices that its prohibited to stray from the designated trail and warned not to undertake the strenuous hike if you hold any heart or respiratory problems. The trek itself starts at an altitude of 2100m, well above anything in the UK.

Even at this relatively low altitude, the effects of the thin air pressure are visible on air tight products, an effect that many will experience when opening a packet of crisps on a flight. Our team of nine set off in the early morning to avoid the mid-day heat and head along the gentle and gradually winding gravel track known as the Montana Blanca, a surreal but beautiful hike on a Mars like landscape consisting of orange dry rock and rolling hills which run for a few kilometres. As the sun rises and the moon begins to disappear the shades of reds and oranges really do make you feel like you're on another world. The temperatures begin to rise, but still the morning air is refreshing rather than too hot or cold. Teides towering peak becomes visible but seems like a mere speck amongst the surrounding horseshoe of mountains. The solidified lava flows that have scared the landscape and the Teide Eggs offer an unfamiliar glimpse of a catastrophic eruption that happened over a century ago.

The huge, dark boulders scatter the slopes and you cant help but think of the sheer scale of not only the eruption but the forces that Mother Nature can unleash in order to shift such enormous rocks. The gradual track continues for approximately 4km and can be considered an enjoyable walk, compared to whats to come. As we walk, only the sound is of our footsteps landing on the gravel, breaking the silence as we press on. Surprised by the stillness of air, it is easy to imagine were in the vacuum of space. We take a moment to just stand and admire the eerie atmosphere in complete silence, overlooking the very edges of Tenerife and the sleeping tourist towns. Every step we take brings us to our ultimate goal and the ascent becomes more and more justifiable with spectacular views. Before we continue, we refuel ourselves for what we know will be a long day. Even as we rest here for approximately 30minutes we remain the only people in sight and begin to wonder whether Teide National Park is truly living up to its reputation as one of the Worlds busiest.

The fairly easy going section eventually comes to an end and its time for the steep and arduous climb. The route begins to play tricks on you as it turns back on itself, like a snake slithering along from side to side. The summit is no longer visible and instead the immediate view is limited to the gradient before us. Altitude is gained in little distance, but with no clear goalposts in sight, progress is slow. As if straight out the textbook, we reach a height of just under 3000metres and there is a noticeable difference in air pressure. With every step we take, it begins to dawn on us how much of the volcano we have to go, only reaching approximately half of the climbing attitude. Effects of the lower air pressure start to physically manifest themselves in our team as it becomes harder to breathe. A constant shortness of breathe is not helped by the fact were physically exerting ourselves in a panic over making our allocated summit climbing time.

The only respite we have is that our backpacks are going down in weight with every bite of food and drink of water. Surprisingly, as we continue progressing, despite the drop in air pressure, we cant help but notice the living environment. Lizards upon lizard chase each other through lava rock and a flurry of insects, mainly consisting of bees can be heard through the dry bushy vegetation; the latter of which proving an unwelcome accomplice on what is already a challenging trek but alas, with the Altavista Refuge (3260m) falling into sight and with something to work towards, progress seems to speed up once again. Here the first signs of human activity appear. The refuge itself houses beds for climbers wanting to spend the night (20 euro) but during the day its locked down, and so are its toilet facilities - an extortionately expensive drink vending machine does remain accessible the mind boggles on how they got that up there in the first place though! The views from the refuge are absolutely stunning as you look down.

The initial gradual route along the Montana Blanca remains vaguely visible and triggers the back of your memory that it was just a couple of hours earlier, we and come from down there. What really catches the eye though is the Island of Gran Canaria that emerges form the deep blue sea. A stark contrast colours, and a perfect picture postcard moment is made here. Straight past the refuge, the route will take you through a cooled lava flow; the narrow defined track takes you through the dark brown violently jaggered rocks and really gives you the feeling of what the earth is capable of if in a geologically foul mood. Shortness of breath worsens; headaches and even a mild confusion are experienced as our body struggles to replenish oxygen. Regular stops to catch our breath are made and by this point its fair to say all members of our group are experiencing some difficulties. Even a drink of water becomes hard work as after every sip comes the inevitable grasping for oxygen. A temporary relief of side effects takes place when we crack open a canister of 99% oxygen; an action which may seem a little bit dramatic, considering people have climbed Mount Everest without any supplemented oxygen, but then again this is nine unfit individuals that have never gone to such dizzy heights and any relief is good relief! Replenished, a new sigh of optimism sweeps across us.

After a much longer than expected hike from the refuge, the summit falls into place and the viewing platform with the unmistakable top cable car station catch our attention. A few metres further and yet more switch backs we hit the tourist trail. The solitude we've experienced on the way up is suddenly gone as the crowds of tourists from the cable car hop along the lava route in their flip flops without a worry or a stretched muscle. Perhaps its the exhaustion, perhaps the thin air, but my frustrations are projected as these visitors get in the way as I try to make way along route 7 to the final observation point by the cable car. I cant help but feel that wed earned these amazing views through hours of hiking and that everyone else had simply cheated and taken the easy route on the cable car. Rather than express my feeling and taint my experience, I suppressed them and carried out looking over the entire archipelago of the Canary Islands.

The final few meters are on a rocky but horizontal path leading to the large cable car building; impossible to miss, looking very out of place. A toilet and running water are located here as is the tiny office with a hatch which allows those with a permit to persevere on to the main vent. Here park rangers inspect your permit and passport before they open a small wooden gate to the path leading up to the peak. The authorities cap daily visitor numbers, citing environmental protection, so many of the cable car tourists will not make it further. Its not long before the solitude feeling returns, as we head closer to the crater, and higher in the atmosphere. Though the final summit looks pretty daunting, its only about a further 25 minutes climb from the below viewing platform before we reach the crater at the top. Make shift steps along the way make for quick progress and the time we spent around the cable car and other people seem to have helped in our acclimatisation. Hot sulphurs gasses escaping through the rocks below our feet and along the main crater walls which were holding on to are the new challenges.

Almost as steam bursts from a locomotive, the gas blows out from small cracks, never sure where they come from next we hastily move on along the rim of the main vent. The main crater itself is out of bounds and the strong concentrations of white gasses escaping from it are enough of a deterrent to stop you venturing into it. At the highest point of Spain and all the Atlantic Island your greeted by amazing views of much of Tenerife and a truly awesome sense of achievement. Along the horizon, a subtle curvature of the Earths surface is just about noticeable only to be broken by another island in the distance. Far in the distance the coastal resorts are visible as specks, it truly is as if you were looking down from an aeroplane window. A short break and the obligatory picture taking are soon over as this exhausting experience, unpleasant smells, coupled with the thin air, doesn't really make you want to stick around too long. We make retrace our steps along the steep route back down to the cable car station where we buy our one way ticket (12.50 euro).

The quick decent relieves any ill felt effects from the altitude and before you know it were at the base. A large car-park as well as cafe and souvenir shop is situated at the base of the cable car station, and a well-earned drink is a must. For those who chose to climb Teide its a further 2 km (30 minute walk) along the winding TF-21 road with no pedestrian footpath to the layby where the hike began. The route is described as difficult, not technically but physically. No doubt its the high altitude which brings Route Number7 into this category so before setting of, make sure youve read up on high altitude and any precautions. At times it may not seem so, but on reflection Teide is a really rewarding experience and well in the reach of any outdoor enthusiast. How to get a permit? Many online sources and blogs state a permit is granted through small office somewhere on the island and that its difficult to find. THIS IS NO LONGER THE CASE. The permit is free and available online through following link: www.reservasparquesnacionales.es. You will need to present you passport with the permit at the top. Its not all about Teide! If climbing Teide is not enough, then dont worry. A quick internet search will unveil a comprehensive network of hiking trails across the island, ranging from over 80 kilometres to just a kilometre.

The Barranco del Infierno (liable to closures) as well as the Barranco de Musca offers the best hikes on the island due to their extensive network or tracks and trials. With no starting or finishing point, youre free to wonder how far you wish. Where to stay Your almost spoilt for choice here. Hotels and apartment blocks line the resorts. However if its a hostel your after you may be surprised to see that hostels numbers arent as high as you may expect, perhaps be down the to shere number of competitive hotel available. A quick scan through the web will produce a small selection to choose from.

We stayed at the lovely Hostel La Playa in El Medano. Though its worth bearing in mind that a package holiday option can too work."

The fear of fear. Our greatest challenge?

We are all terrified of fear. Is this our biggest challenge? Fear is one of the most natural human emotions. You might argue it is our most important survival instinct. Yet the problem most of us have is that, when it comes to fear, we are terrified of it. While it affects us all in different ways, and will be triggered by different things, it is the fear of fear is the biggest barrier to progress in any extreme sport.

If you are reading this post, you probably remember the first time you got the fear. We have all been there, consumed by fear, beaten off a climb, dropping out of a drop in or whatever else. Body like a lead weight, mind malfunctioning, any illusions of style or technique safely out the window. It is all you can do to scrabble desperately to the end, or retreat to safety. For me it first struck cliff climbing in Cornwall, on the hardest trad route I had done to date, but well within my physical capabilities. Back on safe ground I couldn't help but look back with frustration at being beaten, and being a competitive sole, a touch of humiliation how did he not get overcome by that?

I am sure this if familiar for a lot of us. The question is, what is next? For many that first dose of fear is enough to convince them, consciously or not, to retreat to the safety of a relative comfort zone. The fear of fear has won. Pushing your limits becomes a forgotten dream. I, like a lot of others, resolved to overcome it. I convinced myself it was because I was not properly in the zone, or because I hadn't trained enough to be totally confident in that situation. These are all partly true. So I worked on them, ready to return fitter and stronger, both physically and mentally. Still sound familiar? Yet somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, the seeds of doubt have been set.

You may not realise it at the time (I didn't), but you are now up against the biggest test you will face. A fear of fear is constantly building inside you. Will fear consume you again, or will you be able to push through - recognise it, embrace it, and use it to your advantage? It is over the next few months that the real battle is won or lost. Let fear get the upper hand again anytime soon, and it probably wont be long before you too are settling back more consistently into your comfort zone, the fear of fear ever heavy on your tense shoulders. The few who get through this period, finding themselves able to maintain pure concentration and embrace the element of fear that comes with the territory will have unlocked the door.

They will be the ones you see performing at a level most of us, having let a fear of fear hold us back, can only dream of. I, in case you hadn't guessed, have so far found the fear of fear an impossible hurdle to overcome when it comes to climbing. I've had to watch in envy as my climbing partners go to places that are way beyond what my mind will let me do. Yet stick me on skis and I will give anything a go. Explain that?

Alex is founder of Much Better Adventures, the place to find local, independent and ethical adventure companies, guides and instructors around the world."

Fear of Failing of Failing from Fear

In response to the recent posts on Fear - I am something of a failure. There, I said it. On a number of occasions in the last year I have failed to achieve something through fear, most notably last year, while in Snowdonia I failed to reach the summit of Tryfan.

It wasn't through lack of fitness, or desire to reach the top and leap, gazelle-like, from Adam to Eve (or is it Eve to Adam, I forget) no, it was a simple case of getting about three quarters of the way up the north ridge, looking up at the wall of rock that remained and my bottle falling out of my arse. I have always been afraid of heights. Always. 8 years old, school trip to Durham Cathedral. Climb to the top of the tower. Going up the spiral staircase I can feel the tower swaying its not swaying and unless a major earthquake hits Durham it never will but I can feel it swaying all the same. Get to the top. Refuse to go anywhere near the parapet. Miss out on view of Durham. Two years later, 10 Years old. Family trip to Richmond in North Yorkshire. My Dad drags me to the top of the Castle Keep to cure my fear.

It doesnt. The Keep is only 100ft high. I still hear the screaming when I close my eyes. In three visits to Paris I have never managed higher than the Second floor of the Eiffel Tower. Ski lifts usually these delightful contraptions skim along a mere 20-30ft above the heads of the merry crowds below, however there is (or was, its been 10 years) one lift in Teton Village that suddenly takes off and soars up a vertical cliff face, I have travelled on it once, and I tried to get off halfway. Had it not been for Mrs W halting my progress I would now be a greasy red smear on that cliff face. The London Eye fills me with dread, and a sense that it would be an enormous waste of money; as I would inevitably spend the entire revolution gibbering, face down in the centre of the pod. I know its a clich but I started climbing thinking it would maybe finish what my dad had tried to start and that by exposing myself (not that like you perverts!) to my aversion would rid me of the fear. It hasn't.

What it has done is teach me, to an extent, to control it. It still surfaces now and again, I climbed last Wednesday and tried to lead on an overhang, I got three clips off the ground and started to struggle. All I needed to do was bring a foot up onto a feature and step up bringing the next hold and clip into reach. But I couldn't do it, then I realised, I wasn't afraid of the height or the fall particularly. I was afraid of not doing it, of failing. I look back at my failure on Tryfan last year and thinking about it, I realise I wasn't afraid of the height; in fact I was sitting on a nice flat bit at the time, it was looking up and thinking what if I go further and then find I cant do it and get stuck. Failure. So now I'm afraid of failing, here we go again "

The only way is up (unless you're coming down)

When I'm asked what it is like to trek or climb mountains, I always compare it to my perception of natural childbirth from stories from the various mums I know. At the time it can seem like the most difficult thing in the entire world, but give it a while and youll be ready to do it all over again!

Perhaps the following is just the musing of an inexperienced adventurer or maybe I haven't taken on a climb tough enough to warrant such an opinion but I actually think the hardest part about climbing mountains is after you descend. More often than not the truly hardest part comes weeks, or even months later. I trekked Mount Kilimanjaro for the second time in 2010 in my role as a tour leader for a fundraising charity challenge organisation. The group was made up of 30 participants from all over the UK and Channel Islands fundraising for their local radio station children's charity plus a trip medic, me and all our fabulous local staff. The going was tough, with some of the group succumbing to the altitude related illness and exhaustion that comes with trekking to a peak almost 6000m high! Indeed, even I suffered the effects of mild acute mountain sickness which led to me being unable to continue to the summit for my second visit to Uhuru Peak.

The vast majority of people who climb mountains intend to reach the summit, but no-one tells you that physical training and acclimatisation doesn't prepare you for the mental strength you need when you have to be to admit to yourself and your guide that you have to turn back. You then have to deal with that decision in the weeks, months and years following your attempt. This decision is often more difficult than the actual climb itself. Getting altitude sickness and the awful feeling that goes with it wasn't the hardest part of the Kilimanjaro trek for me; at the time it was the only decision to make while I still had the ability to judge that continuing would put myself (and possibly my fellow team members) at risk. The hardest part came around three weeks later upon reflection of the trip as a whole when I started asking myself what more could I have done to have made it to the summit?, 'if only I had done X,Y or Z'. This thought leaves a sinking feeling in your stomach, a feeling that is more intense than disappointment, more helpless and powerless. 

Anyone who has attempted to summit a peak but been unable to reach it will surely relate to this; it haunts you. For those who are successful in their attempt at their summit goal, the hardest part still comes later (albeit in a much more positive way!). Short term, the adrenaline of reaching the summit wears off fairly quickly and then the tiredness hits, leaving your body fighting to keep you awake and moving down towards your camp, while the pressure on your knees builds and your pack digs into your hips and shoulders with every footstep. Long term, climbing mountains is very addictive, perhaps enhanced by the feeling of intense elation and happiness beyond belief once you hit the top, which leaves you with an itch which is difficult to scratch without a fairly significant amount of money and time depending on the mountain in question.

You also tend to be attracted towards bigger and better mountains, to quench your increasing thirst! From my experience, while you are on a mountain you become part of a family with your team of guides, staff and climbing buddies and you bond with each other. In this unusual and often extreme environment you simply forget your day-to-day worries and concentrate on being part of a team and trying to reach the top. Weeks after your climb is when you feel the sad pangs of broken bonds, when you miss your climbing family and the experiences you had together, which to outsiders seem insignificant but to you are the small things that made a difference on your adventure. 

Just remember that what goes up, must come down and sometimes the time to come down is before you think you are ready.

F.E.A.R - False Evidence Appearing Real?

"F.E.A.R - False Evidence Appearing Real? Fear can be debilitating in the outdoors and fear can be debilitating in life. For sure it can be. It can stop you from trying something that you may think is beyond your capabilities. It is all too easy to put up barriers and to justify inaction based on the what ifs.

When we do this, when we listen to our fears and decide not to take a risk we close off the potential to achieve great things. If we only felt the fear and did it anyway, who knows what rewards would await us. But fear has its place too. Fear can also be extremely beneficial. It can keep us safe and in some situations, alive. It can be the primary motivating factor behind that all important decision to turn back. In this way, fear can be the sole mechanism that delivers us to the pub at the end of a day so that we can live to experience another day in the outdoors. So how do we separate the two?

How do we identify whether the adrenaline in our veins is telling us to just do it, or whether it is pushing our lives towards a rather messy and/or premature conclusion? Im not sure there is a definitive answer. I can only speculate that unhealthy fears are the ones that hold us back, and healthy fears must be those that preserve our existence on this planet. Being able to identify whether your quickened heart rate is pushing you onwards or telling you that it is time to retreat can sometimes be more important than our ability to navigate or our choice of appropriate clothing or gear. Quite frankly it is the skill that can separate those who enjoy a long and rewarding career in the outdoors from those who are, well, brown bread. My own relationship with fear is an interesting one. Just over a year and a half ago I was in a place where everything was upside down.

I was having panic attacks about things I wasnt even remotely scared of. Bizarrely, it was also at this time that I started to actually do things that other people would consider paralysingly petrifying. Stuff like rock climbing and mountaineering. It was quite frankly laughable that back then the concept of bumping into my ex in the supermarket would induce more feelings of terror than putting myself into a potential life or death situation on a rockface. Like I said, it was a confusing time. When I look back now it all makes perfect sense to me. The utter simplicity of being in the mountains overrode any fears that may have taken hold. The purity of the air, the awesome power of nature, and the friendships formed all combined to restore in me my sense of self and quietened my noisy head.

Here I was neither in control nor out of control it was a game of calculated risk. If I listened to the mountain, weighed up the options, focused, breathed appropriately, and looked only a few moves ahead, then I would succeed. It became a case of putting one foot in front of the other and in so doing it was suddenly eminently possible to reach the top of a Munro on ski in a total whiteout, to traverse the ridges of An Teallach in thick fog, and to succeed on a 6a route having only ever climbed twice previously. It was this adoption of the one foot in front of the other approach, together with a point blank refusal to submit to the irrational fears that got me past chaos and self-doubt, to the top, to fresh air, to calm, to the future. So where does this leave us with fear?

Well I guess the point Im trying to make is that where there is real risk there should be fear. And while you can never have zero risk in wild places you can minimise the risks by taking things one step at a time, immersing yourself in the moment, and enjoying the journey. And if you adopt this outlook on the mountain and in your every day life, then there is nothing to be afraid of. Sophie Nicholson Adventure Sports/Travel Journalist living in the French Alps "

Global Adventure News 28 June 2012

American paddlers complete 52 mile 24 hour marathon SUP challenge. Watermen Bill Whiddon and Thaddeus Foote, have completed the first ever attempt to stand-up paddle (SUP) across the Gulf Stream, from Bimini, Bahamas to Miami, to raise awareness of the impacts of plastics in the ocean.

The Bimini-Miami Blue Water Challenge was a gruelling 24 hour adventure taking the paddle boarders 48 miles across the deep blue waters of the powerful Gulfstream current armed with only a board, a paddle, and their wits.

The intrepid paddle boarders endured one the earths most powerful oceanic currents, exposure to shifting weather conditions, extreme isolation, and all the risks of open ocean navigation in order to successfully reach their destination. The paddlers arrived at South Beach Miami on the 15th of June to be welcomed at a party thrown in their honour by The Surfrider Foundation. By completing this journey, Whiddon and Foote hope to raise awareness of the impacts that discarded plastics are having on the worlds marine environments. The Surfrider Foundation Miami Chapter is an official partner of the crossing and is fighting the proliferation of marine plastics through its Rise Above Plastics (R.A.P.) campaign. R.A.P. is aimed at increasing the rate of plastic recycling and reducing the release of waste into the oceans. To take action, visit http://florida.surfrider.org/campaigns/flrapRiver.

Gambia 2012 Expedition 1000km. Experienced West Africa travellers, husband and wife team Jason Florio, and, photography producer, Helen Jones-Florio will attempt to make the first recorded source to sea expedition of the entire length of the River Gambia: one of the last remaining, large, free-flowing rivers in Africa, there has been talk for a number of years of damming the river, so they want to document the communities and environment before this happens. Travelling by canoe and foot through the homelands of over seven different tribes, their journey will begin at the source of the river, where it trickles out of the Fouta Djallon highlands of Guinea, on into hippo-abundant Niokolo Koba National Park, Senegal, and finally into The Republic of the Gambia following the same course as the early gold and slave traders had done centuries ago to the 10km wide mouth of the river, where it opens into the Atlantic Ocean after over a 1000km journey. Jason, Helen, and their team, will collect visual, written and audio stories documenting the lives and cultures of the indigenous people, who live and work along the course of the River Gambia. Using traditional protocol, relevant to each country, they will approach village chiefs to ask permission to stay in their villages. Staying with the local people will be an integral part of the journey, in order for them to understand and document the cultures and traditions of the numerous tribes they will encounter. They will travel with two local Gambian river men for the entire journey, along with hiring local guides in Guinea and Senegal thus making it a diverse and international team. http://rivergambiaexpedition2012.wordpress.com.

Louis Philippe Loncke completed his epic crossing of Poland. This human powered adventure on foot, packraft and kayak between the highest summit of Poland (Mount Rysy, 2499m) to the Baltic sea began in May 2012. The journey started with Louis climbing Mount Rysy, then hiking North-west across the Tatras mountains to Mt Barania Gra (1220m), find the source of the Vistula (the longest river of Poland) and follow it to the sea. During the 4-5 weeks of the expedition Louis also visited cultural places and famous cities along the way.The trip was completed successfully on the 3rd of June after 28 days and 1200 kilometers.By completing the trip Louis hopes to inspire preservation of the water bodies and wildlife of the country.http://www.polandtrek.com.

Ripley Davenport, FRGS, dedicated explorer adventurer writer for Explorers Connect is to attempt a 150 mile crossing of Death Valley.Death Valley is a desert valley located in Eastern California. Situated within the Mojave Desert, it features the lowest, driest, and hottest locations in North America. It has an area of about 3,000 square miles (7,800 sq km) and runs from the north to the south.The intention is to be completely self sufficient and entirely on foot throughout the arduous 150 mile route from North to South through the Valley itself by man-hauling a specially fabricated wheeled desert trailer, which will carry minimal water and provisions weighing approximately 200kg across sand dunes, jagged mountains, salt-pans, washes and canyons.The Valley itself is a narrow basin located 282 feet below sea level and bounded on all sides by mountains which generate the notorious blistering temperatures.It is intended to use, but not depend on, a recycling system that will purify urine.http://www.ripleydavenport.com/deathvalley.html

Legless man from Canada climbs Kilimanjaro on his hands - Spencer West, 31 from Toronto, Canada has succeeded in crawling on his hands to the 19,341ft high summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro. The amazing feat was completed on Tuesday the 19th of June. He trained for a year to scale the tallest peak in Africa without legs and set off on June 12 with best friends David Johnson and Alex Meers. The trek to the top took seven days, hiking through Tanzania's jungles, snowfields and deserts - and Mr West was forced to make 80 per cent of the journey on his hands, only hopping in a custom-made wheelchair when the terrain allowed. http://www.freethechildren.com/redefinepossible.

A team of five wounded American soldiers are attempting an ascent of Denali on June 10, 2012, a team of five wounded warriors began their challenge to summit Denali (Mt. McKinley) in Alaska, at 20,320 feet the highest mountain in North America and one of the coldest in the world. The team, calling themselves Warfighter Sports will test their limits, stamina and endurance while hoping to raise awareness of the abilities of Americas wounded servicemen and inspire others with disabilities.The Denali Challenge began on the 11th of June, they hope to complete their trip on Independence Day, July 4. Team Warfighter Sports includes two double leg amputees, two single above knee amputees and one with severe muscle damage in the legs. The team includes soldiers from two generations (the oldest is 64 and youngest is 29) and three wars, Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan.At present the team appear to be stranded at 14,000 feet due to severe weather however we are sure that their grit and determination will prevail and we will be following them at:http://www.crowdrise.com/wsdenalichallengeStories researched.

Runner's High Plus

I tweeted a question earlier this week - If runner's have their high then what do we climbers have?

We couldn't have high even if it hadn't already been taken; it's just too bloody literal. I got a variety of replies including a four tweet epic from Mr NICAS himself, Iain McKenzie, but the basic gist of all the replies was that whatever we call that combination of superhuman and battered-to-hell set of emotions we experience after a session at the crag or after completing a grade-pushing pitch it's definitely a mix of elation at the achievement, the endorphin release from the strenuous exercise and the adrenaline shot of fear. My original question came from having completed my first overhanging lead during an evening at Craggy Island. It wasnt a tough grade (only a 4) and had it been on less steep ground I'd have danced up it, but, I find overhangs deeply intimidating.

They stir something visceral which just makes me want to run and hide. I've got to say it was bloody hard work, definitely not elegant and I made some glaring errors (including z clipping the second quickdraw and having to down climb to rectify) but I got to the top and I felt incredible. By the time Matt had lowered me off I was a quivering, sweaty mess. My legs and arms turned to jelly by the adrenaline and lactic, my mind singing from the endorphins and I was on top of the world. What I was feeling was akin to the runner's high but the extra loading of fear turned it into something far more powerful. It started me thinking of the concept of the sublime as described by Robert Macfarlane in his excellent Mountains of the Mind. This concept of sublime is not the modern use of the word so beloved of Loral and the like where Cheryl Kerl minces about telling us her hair feels canny sublime, pet This is the Sublime where you are elevated closer to your respective deity by proximity to the force of nature, the search for this Sublime is the force that drove respectable Victorians to swoon at the sight of a glacier and to haul cases of claret to the summit of Mont Blanc to quaff merrily in sight of their god whilst their toes (and servants) succumbed to frostbite.

To my mind this is what we Climbers are experiencing, this Runner's High Plus we attain, is actually a little bit of The Sublime. We know now, in the 21st Century, that this feeling is just the effect of a few molecules of hormone on our bodies and minds, but to reduce this awesome feeling to mere science doesn't, I'm afraid, do it justice so I'm sticking with The Sublime and I intend to keep grabbing little bits of it whenever I can.

This article was originally published on my blog -http://notevenbleeding.blogspot.co.uk/ but I've placed it on here in response to Glen Downton's article examining why we want to travel.

Jungle Equipment

Hot, wet, humid and full of bugs; the jungle requires some specialist kit and a daily routine that takes a bit of getting used to. In this article I will cover the clothing and equipment you will need before venturing into the trees. What I hope to do is to give you some guidelines to help you come up with your own jungle kit.

Jungle routine

The general routine for working and travelling in the jungle is to only take two sets of clothing, a wet set and a dry set. During the day I wear my wet set, all day, every day. This will get wet, from sweat and or rain and will generally stay wet for the duration of the trip. When I have set up camp in the evening and all the camp chores have been done, I wash myself and my wet set in a stream to remove any salt, which will cause irritation if allowed to build up in the clothing weave. I then hang my wet set on a line under my tarp, dry and powder my feet and change into my dry set. It is very important that you make sure you keep this set dry at all times, as having two wet sets is no fun! In the morning I pack away my dry set in a small dry bag and then put that inside my main dry bag. Its then time to put on my wet set, which will be cold and horrible, I don't think anyone gets used to this! However after five minutes its like you have never been out of them and its time for another exciting day in the jungle.

Clothing

Clothes need to be tough to survive the constant wet conditions, the spiny wait-a-while vines and also protect you from biting insects. I generally choose natural materials over synthetics as I find cotton does not pick up body odours as quickly, although it does take a bit longer to dry.

Clothing is a very personal thing and what works for me may not work for you. Wet Kit Underwear I prefer to wear Lycra running shorts to reduce rubbing caused by wet trousers on your inner thigh. Some people wear swimming shorts and some wear nothing at all - like I said, its a very personal thing!

Trousers

British Army lightweights or cotton cargo trousers are the best option. Keep them loose fitting to allow freedom of movement and also allow wait-a-while to catch fabric rather than skin. Having a few pockets enables you to keep important items on you at all times. I tuck them into the tops of my jungle boots to stop leeches getting in. Shirt I prefer to wear a long sleeve shirt, which allows me to have the sleeves up during the day then roll them if the mosquitoes are a problem. The 5.11 Tactical range make a very good cotton shirt that is tough enough to stand up to the rigours of jungle travel. It has good chest pockets, which can carry a lot of gear and a good vent at the back to help keep you cool. As with trousers it is best to keep your shirt baggy and tucked in. Socks I go for a good pair of thick high percentage wool hiking socks without seams on the heels, as this reduces blisters on pressure points. Wool does not start to smell as quickly as synthetic socks. Some people prefer to wear one thin pair of socks under the thick pair to reduce friction, but I find in the jungle my feet get too hot with both pairs on. It is important to clean your socks each evening, to remove sand build-up, which can lead to very painful feet.

Boots

There is no point trying to keep your feet dry in the jungle, it just will not happen! I have seen people feet fall apart in waterproof boots, as once in, the water cant get out. It is a better bet to accept wet feet and choose boots with this in mind. I wear US Military jungle boots with a good chunky Panama sole, draining eyelets and a canvas upper. The ones by Altama are good. Jungle terrain can be very muddy and slippery and normal hiking boot soles cant get enough grip. The Panama sole allows good grip and it also pushes the mud out of the sides to keep the tread clear. The two eyelets allow the boot to quickly drain any water after submersion during say, a river crossing. The canvas uppers also aid the removal of water, as well as help ventilation. Any foam or padding in the boots will just hold water and make them very heavy. Belt Avoid leather, as it soon turns mouldy in the damp conditions. I use an old roof rack strap! Hat I am not keen on wide-brimmed hats under the canopy as I find they restrict my vision too much. I always take a baseball cap but only ever use it if I am in the sun, for example on a HLS (Helicopter Landing Site) or travelling by river. Poncho I carry a US poncho that packs up nice and small and weighs very little. It allows plenty of air to circulate so you dont become sweaty, unlike in waterproof jackets. I only really use this when it has been raining for a long time. A short downpour is more refreshing than anything else!

Dry Kit Shorts

I carry a pair of cotton cargo shorts to wear in the evening. They pack down small and still have pockets to hold useful items such as a head torch.

T-shirt

A cotton T-shirt is all thats needed in the evening. If mosquitoes are a problem I just apply mosquito repellent. Crocs It is nice to powder your feet and give them a chance to air and dry out in the evening. However some people prefer to take trainers or lightweight converse shoes as they offer more protection.

Equipment

You need very little equipment in the jungle, but what you do choose to take with you is very important. Rucksack An external frame pack has an advantage in the jungle as it increases air flow and therefore reduces the risk of getting a sweat rash on your back. Having external pockets means you can easily access commonly used items such as your brew kit or first aid kit, without having to go into the main compartment. Anything you want to stay dry needs to be put into dry bags as no rucksack is 100% waterproof. Depending on the length of your trip a 50-80ltr rucksack should be big enough. Remember the bigger your rucksack the more you end up taking!

Dry Bag

I find dry bags made by Ortelib to be the toughest. I prefer to put things into lots of little bags instead of just one large one in case it gets punctured. Make sure you label the outside of each bag so you can tell whats inside at a glance. Shelter There is no better shelter for use in the jungle than the tarp and hammock; it was designed for use in this warm wet environment.