The girl stood on tip toe on the narrow knobbly rock, one hand holding on for dear life, the other reaching for the ledge above.
The ground plummeted some 5 metres below.
Her friend holding the ropes sat not far above her, urging her on.
She had about one metre left to climb. She just needed to get over the ledge, the tricky obstacle in her way.
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I don’t consider myself especially brave.
Yet I’ve been called that a lot recently.
It all started with my solo trek down the length of New Zealand.
But I definitely didn’t feel brave when I stood at the northern tip of New Zealand about take the first step.
In fact, I was a total bundle of nerves and riddled with self-doubt and fear. I’d never done anything like this before. Who was I to think I could walk 3,000km (1,864 miles)?
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Almost four months on a cosy 28-foot boat with the love of your life, dealing with temperamental weather and an ocean as changeable as a teenager’s mood swings is one of those experiences that make you look at life and your place in it.
I don’t know if I’d go as far to say I’m stronger or that it was a transformational experience – during the sail I often compared to my 3,000km (1,864 miles) walk down the length of New Zealand, which really did change me as a person – but the sailing challenge made me sit up.
These are some of the things I learnt.
Continue readingIf there was one word to describe the realisation that I had been in an emotionally abusive relationship, that word would be shame.
It would quickly be followed by the word weakness.
How did I not realise I was in an emotionally abusive relationship? How weak was I to get into this sort of relationship and to stay so long? What does that say about me? What will other people think?
For several years, those two words have hung around me like a bad smell.
I no longer want to give them power, which is why I’m talking about it now and why, during our upcoming sail around Great Britain, my current (and amazing) partner Mark and I are fundraising for the UK charity SafeLives, which works to end domestic abuse. You can donate here.
Continue readingIt’s getting real now!
Under three weeks until my partner Mark and I set off sailing clockwise around Great Britain.
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I can count on one hand the number of times I have been on a sailboat – and that’s with chopping two of my fingers off.
I know nothing about boats. I can’t remember port from starboard, stern from bow, gybe from tact (opps I mean tack).
I have no idea if I get seasick.
The toilet is a bucket with a toilet seat, the contents of which I have to chuck over the side of the boat.
There is currently nowhere to decently wash my hands and I don’t do dirty hands.
And dirty hands are part and parcel of sailing – disgusting, wet, dirty, muddy, mouldy ropes wherever you look. As well as large, copious amounts of gluggy bird poo. Yuck!
So, when my partner Mark, who has been sailing for 20 years, bought a new boat recently, I was suddenly introduced to a whole new and scary world.
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A couple of weeks ago, I trod the Hadrian’s Wall Path in northern England from the east coast to the west coast. All 135km (84 miles) of it, walked in six days, passing through two cities, Newcastle and Carlisle, and following sections of ancient wall that had been built some 2,000 years ago to keep the marauding northerners out. It’s a walk I’ve wanted to do since I first arrived in the UK 15 years ago so to finally get round to doing it was pretty incredible.
Here are 10 things I learnt:
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I went to the dentist on Monday. Over the weekend I went clothes shopping for the boyfriend and filled a skip with junk. I drank gin and tonics on Saturday night and the other week I voted in the European Parliament elections.
You can’t get much more normal (or dull) than that.
Life in South London is a world away from walking the Te Araroa trail in New Zealand.
I’ve been asked so many times (that I’ve lost count) what it’s like to be back. My answer is the same – it’s all a little surreal. Continue reading
I don’t need a bully. That nasty someone to belittle me, call me names, tell me I’m no good, that I’m stupid and ugly. Nope, I don’t need a bully – and yet I’m bullied every day.
That’s because I’m my own bully; I’m my own worst enemy.
Since my school days, I’ve barraged myself with negativity, put downs and self-doubt – you’re so uncool, you’re boring, you’re stupid, you’re not attractive, I would tell myself. I’d question what I thought and what I did. I’d tell myself other people were better than me, that I should be more like them, but that I could never be because I wasn’t good enough. Continue reading
I’m saying it, it’s out there – starting in November, I’m going to solo walk the 3,000km Te Araroa trail down the length of New Zealand. Continue reading
Katrina Megget 