Hi Impossible people,
I meant for this to be sent by Impossible DM but the character/send limit on DMs and my rambling made that too difficult. So here it is, as I first typed it out in DM to @lisaventer. I'm adding photos and other media here to illustrate things a little. (if you haven't come from Impossible.com then this doesn't make sense unless you see the initial post there.)
This (above) is a photo of me coming into land in my paramotor trike, right by my wheelchair which you can just make out in front of the paramotor. I was paralysed in 2004, in a climbing accident when my rope anchor gave way as I was abseiling off the top of a cliff in England. I fell about 65ft onto the rocks below and was immediately paralysed as my vertebrae smashed and pushed their way through my spinal cord. Thankfully a quick rescue by the Edale Mountain Rescue Team and RAF helicopter saved my life, I had multiple injuries and was resuscitated three times on the operating table. 3 weeks in ICU, 7 months in hospital. Needless to say, I very much support the NHS now.
Being lifted in a RAF Search & Rescue helicopter from the base of Stanage Edge in the English Peak District.
One month after leaving hospital I went to Sweden to learn how to ski sitting down, and decided being back in the mountains was too important to me to give up (wheelchair aren't very good in the mountains!). I moved to Canada to really learn how to ski and ended up racing with the British Disabled Ski Team. I had lost my job as a soldier, the only thing I knew was adventure so I decided to just keep going and try to find some from a wheelchair.
But it turned out I hated ski-racing. Being confined to an icy course and constantly being disappointed at not being better/faster was ruining the fun of skiing. I was travelling around North America to different race meets, living in the back of an SUV, and was miserable. One day, after a race in Vail I decided to take a break from training and go backcountry powder-skiing, and was hooked. The freedom, fun, and exhilaration of skiing was back, I emailed the ski team that day and told them I quit.
I travelled around in my SUV, chasing the storms to get good powder to ski. I found new friends to ski with from internet forums and had a blast. This is turning into a novel, but I ended up skiing in the Winter X-Games in the Monoskier-X race, was in a Warren MIller film, I actually got a job as a ski guide in Utah for a season, and I went to Alaska to heli-ski some of the scariest slopes I've ever seen. I was literally terrified (and before I was injured I was a soldier, I've been to wars since I was 18 and don't scare easily) but I managed it. I honestly believe that one slope, the first time I was dropped-off by the helicopter on top of some un-named Alaskan peak was the most challenging and rewarding thing I've ever done. I'm so proud of that, in myself.
'The Slope". I watched terrified and incredulous as one by one everyone else ski'd down leaving just me and the "tail-gunner" guide in silence. I had to "drop in".
Between all this (snow only lasts so long and you have to do something in the summer right?) I learnt to dive in Australia, learnt to paraglide in Turkey, cycled the length of the UK. All without the use of my legs.
Diving with one of these is like being a human torpedo. A charming, handsome, and modest human torpedo.
"How do you launch?" - Well to be honest I've never had any difficulties in finding volunteers to throw me off a mountain. Not sure if that's a good or bad thing. (I've used this joked for years, it always works)
Eventually the difficulty of getting up to mountain tops with a paraglider in order to launch off them became too frustrating, so I had a trike made and stuck a motor on the back. Freedom! Now I could be 100% independent and launch from fields, fly around mountain tops and go anywhere I wanted again. I can never put into words that feeling, of not being encumbered by maneuvering a wheelchair through a world full of obstacles. It's simply overwhelming.
A nice clean sunrise launch, no flighting to get up to a mountain launch, and no fighting to stay up on thermals.
So then in 2012 I mounted my biggest challenge, a 3000 mile expedition through Europe. Handcycling, kayaking, and flying the paramotor along a route that followed The Danube down to The Black Sea. Which was incredible. Meeting people and being constantly amazed at the kindness of strangers. I slept in people's gardens, spare rooms, or sofas. Was treated like a long-lost relative or celebrity and stuffed full with home cooked meals.
Handcycling. Like cycling but with your hands. In case you didn't work that out from the name, but I have to write something here don't i.
Which brings us to now. Slowing down a bit, and not being quite so crazy. My love of travel and especially the people you meet has me focusing on photography for my next adventure and life-experiences.
Through all my travels I've met truly awesome people, and despite everything I've told you (which has been very egocentric), my fondest memories have been from the conversations and interactions I've had with people. It took becoming paralysed and all my accompanying adventures to realise every single person I see has a life as complex and challenging as mine.
I know it's a bit of a cliche to go to India, have an awakening and take photographs of Holy-men, but to be fair they have practiced meditation for years and are patient enough to stand for me while I fumble at camera and lighting settings.
Which is why I love photography so much, and trying to capture at least some of that complexity in a portrait inspires and excites me so much.
10 years after that fall and I'm still looking for adventure. I call it my constant, it's the only thing that has kept me sane and helped merge my life before and after the accident.
Anyway, I hope that wasn't too long a read I'm sorry if it was. I sometimes I ramble on, I always get asked to tell my story because people think it's motivating and inspiring but I'm always embarrassed by that. I've met enough people and had enough conversations long into the night to know the old cliche is true, everyone has their challenges and everything is relative. I'm most proud of skiing some distant slope no-one has even bothered to name, where only one person saw me.
Everyone has their own slope. So be fucking proud of yours, and if you haven't found it yet, get out there.
Take care,
Andy