Plus, I trailblazed like a badass.

In the aftermath of Seema’s solo rescue, I’d learned a serious lesson: by using oxygen during my expedition, it had been possible to save her. Without it, the chances of me summoning up enough energy to conduct a rescue would have been slim to none. For that reason, from now on, I was climbing above the higher camps on an 8,000-er with bottled air,

because of our fading energy levels, to stop and rest would have caused us to fail.

Turning my thinking around, I found fuel: I saw myself a year down the line, fuming at my inability to pull through at the end. I thought of the people that had put their faith in me, the friends I had made along the way – and most of all I considered Suchi and the family. They needed me to get back. Finally, I envisioned the finishing line, my

I then took on one of the hardest treks in Nepal on foot with my Sherpa team, at speed, running all the way to Kathmandu, only stopping to drink beer and whisky, until we’d completed a six-day journey in eighteen hours.

But that same mindset was available to every climber. It was possible for a novice to become accustomed to the harsh realities of life in base camps very quickly; after a few days or a few weeks, surviving even higher up the mountain becomes a habit for a lot of people, especially if they have positivity.

On average around three hundred people climbed Everest successfully every season; at Kanchenjunga that number came in at around twenty-five.

I was fast learning that the biggest challenge for any climber was self-awareness; it’s impossible for anyone to run or hide from themselves, their truth, on the mountain.

If I could show kids and adults alike what was humanly achievable, then my far-fetched ambitions might inspire others to think big; to push themselves in ways that were previously considered unimaginable.