Karen Darke

The tyres crunched and broke through a crust of salt, an unfamiliar experience after so many years riding over only tarmac and concrete. It was June 2022. It was the sound of liberation. It was the beginning of a new chapter in a story that had taken an unexpected turn three decades ago – a chapter I never thought I’d have the chance to write.

Across the encrusted salt of a Dead Sea beach, to the pebbles of a Loch Ness shore and the golden, wave-worn sands of the Scottish coast, the ICE handbike brought me freedom like I hadn’t known for thirty years of being paralysed. Each new terrain under my wheels was rewiring my mind, enabling me to reach places I naturally didn’t venture before. The reality had always been clear – if I diverted from a hard-packed trail or ribbon of tar, I would likely get stuck in my wheelchair or skinny-tyred handbike. But now, this machine was opening a whole new world.

I often found myself wondering: if I had known this freedom all along, I might never have funnelled my efforts for so many years into handbike racing around global circuits of tar. Perhaps those pristine racing circuits had been a compromise rather than a calling. Yet that racing history had built the strength and endurance for a challenge I never imagined possible.

When my friend Scott Wurtzbacher, founder of Inspire Campfire, invited me to join him and a group on a trek to Everest Basecamp, I marvelled at the word “YES!” as it left my mouth. I surprised even myself with the immediacy of my response. A previous version of me could never have agreed to ‘go trekking’: the Himalayas are not the first place that come to mind when thinking wheelchair-access, let alone the idea of scaling slopes to reach the most famed Base Camp in the world, below the most controversial peak on Earth.

Fast forward through a winter of anticipation, training, and preparation to March 22nd, 2025. The flight to Lukla promised to be the first hurdle: would my handbike’s super-size frame and ‘Al Mighty’ Schwalbe fat tyres possibly squeeze into the luggage compartment of the 18-seater twin-prop plane? “Yes, no problem” I was told months in advance during planning – but now, at the point of boarding the plane with only a tiny weather window to catch, it was a “Errrr, madam, we have big problem”.

The moment required rapid problem-solving, a skill that thirty years of paralysis has honed to perfection. With an allan key, some emergency dismantling, and a bunch of willing hands, we manipulated the ICE handtrike to fit into spaces it was never designed for. It wasn’t the last time on the journey that improvisation would save the day.

As our small aircraft climbed between towering peaks toward Lukla’s infamous mountain runway – allegedly the shortest, most dangerous runway in the world – I realized that this journey was already pushing me beyond boundaries I’d accepted for decades. I had never imagined, since becoming paralysed, that I would be trekking in the Himalayas, or witnessing first-hand the storied villages like Namche Bazaar that had existed only in adventure books and documentaries.

The ICE trike had experienced a warm-up in 2023, when its gnarly engineering with some help from African porters had taken me to the lofty heights of Kilimanjaro. But that was six days; this was a few weeks. That was a steady-inclined volcano; this was complex, twisted Himalayan morphology – a landscape that seemed to defy the very concept of wheeled movement.

As we flew in over the mountains, I felt their energy: waiting, indifferent to my paralysis, neither accommodating nor hostile – simply there, in all their magnificent challenge. I felt curious, but equipped not just with the right machine, but with the right mindset and some wonderful humans. It promised to be a journey beyond the assumed limitations of wheels, beyond boundaries that had defined my world since paralysis.

A piggyback from the plane and then over hundreds of steps landed me: along with our team, the porters who would support us, and my dishevelled, bubble-wrapped bike parts, on a concrete veranda. Whilst building the ICE trike, a tall rather Scottish-looking chap appeared at my side. “Karen Darke,” he muttered, “Only one person I know in a wheelchair mad enough to be here.” I looked up in disbelief. “Colin! What are you doing here?!”

Serendipity. Colin would become the knight, the saviour of my ability to pedal in the Himalayas, one of my heroes of the adventure ahead. The others that I would come to love and elevate to heroes were Durga, Kumar, Tez, Amar and Deepok, in fact all of their family, the ‘Basnets’, who would for the next few weeks be intensively involved in moving my wheelchair, my bike and me over super-tough terrain.

The body is so intricately interconnected that one torn muscle fibre can imbalance our whole system and prevent us from moving. My ICE trike is the same. A fine machine, meticulously engineered, meant that one missing front wheel skewer was effectively the end. Carefully wrapped in bubble wrap and tape to ensure it couldn’t come loose, it had disappeared – mysteriously vanished. A village-wide airport-scanning, bin-ravaging hunt began whilst I sat quietly, digging deep into my ability to reframe the situation. The prospect of being carried in a basket for two weeks did not feel an attractive alternative to riding. I am not at my best being a passenger.

Colin phoned his friend Sonam, a colleague instrumental in setting up the first fire and rescue service in the Khumbu region—home to the villages that line the path to Everest Base Camp. Sonam, a man with a small workshop and a reputation as “a magician with metal,” became our beacon of hope. While Colin tapped into his Himalayan network to locate a metal bar with the right diameter to serve as a makeshift axle, I braced myself for the only option available in the meantime: transport by basket.

And so, I found myself planted squarely in a wicker basket with a single strap fashioned from an old rice sack, designed to be carried across the forehead. The physical and mental resilience required to haul a human over steep, uneven Himalayan trails in such a manner defies comprehension. Yet I soon realised I was a featherweight compared to the commercial porters lurching past us with loads exceeding 100kg, balanced impossibly on their heads.

We had dithered long enough over what to do that, on route to our tea house for the night, we unexpectedly met Colin walking back toward Lukla – metal bar in hand. He had pushed ahead on the trail to retrieve the new axle and was now returning to join Sonam and begin the repairs.

To go into the intricacies of what unfolded in the following days would twist your mind and rattle your sense of what’s plausible. Let’s just say that the ICE trike – resilient and masterfully engineered – was pushed to its very limits, as were we. The improvised axle, made from metal that didn’t quite match the original grade, suffered under the strain: one catastrophic failure warped the brake disc beyond recognition, and others slowly bent out of shape as the terrain took its toll.

My nervous system was stretched taut, constantly anticipating the next point of failure. Yet every time it seemed we had reached the end of the road, another unlikely thread of magic unfurled: a spare brake disc discovered with Himalayan Single Track in Kathmandu; a sunrise motorbike dash to the airport; Chinese tourists arriving by helicopter for a champagne-and-croissant breakfast who just happened to have cargo space; and another metal rod, quickly reshaped into a handful of backup axles.

Colin and his deeply rooted Himalayan network pulled off quiet miracles in a land that gave nothing away easily—only challenge, grit, and a relentless sense of awe from the very first step. When the path became too much – its boulders, brutal gradients, and the sheer resistance it offered to a handbike – I accepted the basket with grace. It was, surprisingly, a welcome reprieve from the intense concentration required to navigate three wheels, all while a team of spirited porters pushed, pulled, and heaved me onward.

In those moments of surrender, I leant back and let go, held by capable hands that knew the terrain like an old friend. Freed from the urgency of movement, I could finally lift my gaze. Towering pinnacles loomed above – names I’d read in books came to life in dizzying dimensions: Ama Dablam, Lhotse, Nuptse, Lobuche… and countless other summits whose names I may never learn, but whose forms are etched into memory.

You needn’t have grown up on the flatlands, nor spent decades in a wheelchair, to be floored by the drama and scale of this living, breathing landscape. Its shapes aren’t static – they rise, fall, twist, and cut into the sky with a force that speaks to something ancient and untamed. The altitude starved my pedalling muscles and lungs, yet now and again I found the breath to gasp, simply: “Woah.”

Most of the time, though, my senses were too absorbed, fixated on the rhythm of the bike, or scanning the line of porters to anticipate the next lift or lurch. Moments to truly pause were rare. But when they came, they landed. Tears often streamed down my cheeks. I saw not just mountains, but the unshakable will of the people around me – their strength, their kindness, their quiet unquestioning certainty that we would reach Everest Base Camp. And in that, I saw a determination that, at times, out-scaled even my own.

Partway through the journey, Scott turned to me and asked how I was doing. I looked him straight in the eye and said, “This is the craziest thing I’ve ever done.” He later admitted that my words filled him with a quiet unease—if I saw it that way, what did that really mean?

I found myself unpacking that moment long after it passed, curious about my own choice of words. What made it feel so crazy? Was it the terrain – twisted, unforgiving, strewn with obstacles that turned every metre into a calculated risk, whether navigating by handbike or surrendering to the basket? Was it the relentless concentration required to manage each shift in gradient, to communicate with the small, committed team hauling me forward with trust and muscle? Perhaps it was the environmental intensity – the sudden swings in temperature, the effects of altitude, the constant need to protect a paralysed body from cold, pressure and injury.

There was also the emotional toll: my concern for the porters and the physical demands placed on them. The sheer scale of the challenge – aiming for Everest Base Camp at 5,364 metres. And an ever-present, quiet worry: that I might somehow be a burden on the others in our group, each of them navigating their own personal terrain – physical, emotional, or both.

Crazy? Perhaps. But what is “crazy” if not a reflection of our own perspective at a given point in time? What feels outrageous in one moment may feel inspired in the next. With the flick of a lens, I could have used a different word altogether: wondrous. Because it was. It was breathtaking, humbling, extraordinary – filled with moments that stirred awe and surprise.

And if anything was truly wondrous, it was the team that formed around me. The porters called me “Didi” – sister – and I called them my “Bais” – brothers. I felt it deeply: a bond built from respect, shared endeavour, and a kind of light-hearted strength that threaded itself through even the toughest moments. Their resilience and steady grace left me in awe. There was no trace of tension, no ego, no friction: only warmth, humour, kindness, and a respectful meeting with both the task and the land beneath our feet.

In a world so often defined by division and effort, it felt like a rare alchemy: the quiet miracle of people simply showing up for one another, moment by moment, step by breathless step.

Colin continued on with us. “I’ve never been to Everest Base Camp,” he admitted, despite spending much of the year living in the high-altitude village of Dingboche, just a few days’ walk away. “If ever there was a moment to go, this is it,” he said—and I deeply appreciated his companionship and selfless commitment to getting the ICE trike through, allowing me to experience as much independence and freedom in the mountains as possible.

He came equipped with tools, spare axles, and his ever-reliable problem-solving mind. With additional support from the most mechanically minded members of our team – Keith and Sam – it felt as though no axle failure, bent disc, or snapped cable could halt our uphill momentum.

Only on the final day to Base Camp did we decide the bike would need to be left behind and exchanged for the basket for the full day. The giant boulders and tangled path through the moraine of the Khumbu Glacier were simply not ‘trikeable’. I was in awe that we had made it so far—and felt a deep peace in surrendering to that final basket-haul up to Everest Base Camp.

Arriving at Everest Base Camp was a moment imprinted to memory. As the prayer flags fluttered in the thin, chilly wind and the giant icy peaks stood sentinel around us, we gathered at the iconic boulder that marks the end of the trail. Laughter, tears, and cheers mingled as we embraced each other, posed for endless photos, and soaked in the magnitude of what we had achieved together, an acknowledgement of perseverance, unity, and the quiet power of teamwork and human spirit meeting the vastness of the Himalayas.

Of course, descending had its own challenges and long days, but we all made it intact and safe, and I feel grateful for that.

In the end, what I carried away from our Himalayan journey was not just the memory of broken axles and improbable repairs, but a deeper encounter with surrender and trust. I had to let go completely, possibly more than ever before, to the unexpected. At times I felt I was being unravelled, but in truth, I see it now as a deeper weaving. Every day was filled with occurrences beyond my imagination. I flowed in the hands of others and with the landscape itself. I learned to trust not in certainty, but in the wild and generous rhythms of people and place. Even in the most precarious moments, there is beauty in being held, and in being part of something far larger than our minds can conceive. 

So, dear reader, whatever situation or challenge life presents to you: surrender, trust and see what magic can unfold 

Thank you, to all who were touched the core and edges of our adventure; to Scott Wurtzbacher for the suggestion (Inspire Campfire), to ICE trikes, ZTrikes (handbike attachment), and GM4X for prep and repair, to Badri our guide (Travel Nepal – Himalayas Treks), to the Basnet family (who formed the majority of our porter team), to Colin Bruce (Braemar Mountain Sports), to dear friends from Scotland (Vicky Sherwood, whose school St Leonard’s in St Andrews gave her term-time out to join me), to Clare Brown for her deep support and room-sharing), to new friends in our team (Sam, Keith, Ryan, Julian, Michelle, Clare, Shiv, Raul, Viktor, Kevin and Joey) and to every single person that supported us along the way (Olga, Dave Durkan, Jo Chaffer, Sonam, Anguru, Himalayan Single Track…the list is long and sorry if I have missed a specific mention!).

Detoxing for Health and Energy: A Personal Journey & Why It’s Vital for Paraplegics: Until recently, I didn’t realise how sluggish I generally felt; nothing serious, but low grade migraines, chronic constipation, bloating, and that a foggy-headed feeling I didn’t even notice—these were just part of my normal. It wasn’t until I started supporting my body’s detoxification pathways more intentionally (thanks to support from the Harpal clinic that identified my lower genetic ability for detoxification) that I noticed a dramatic shift.

Within three weeks of taking Glutathione, my mental fog lifted and I felt noticeably more energised. It was like my body had been carrying an invisible burden and something had cleared. In my days of Paralympic competition, I had found that Quercetin made a huge difference to how I felt – lighter and sharper – but had not investigated why and didn’t know that it, like Glutathione, has detox-supporting properties. 

These experiences made me interested in how much detoxification matters—not just for me, but for anyone dealing with health challenges, and particularly for anyone with paralysis. Reduced circulation, slower lymphatic drainage, and a history of medications like antibiotics and anaesthetics can all contribute to a higher toxic load. If the body isn’t detoxing efficiently, it can lead to fatigue, brain fog, chronic inflammation, sluggish digestion, and other health issues.

Toxins come from many sources—food, air, water, medications, and even stress. Normally, the body eliminates waste through the liver, kidneys, lungs, skin, and digestive system but for many of us, detoxification processes can become less efficient because of:

(1) Medications and Medical Interventions: Many of us have undergone surgeries, anaesthesia, or take long-term medications such as pain relievers, muscle relaxants, or antibiotics. While these are often necessary, they can leave behind residual compounds that must be processed and expelled.

(2) Reduced Circulation and Lymphatic Drainage: The lymphatic system, which flushes out toxins, relies heavily on muscle movement. Since paralysis reduces mobility, lymphatic flow can slow down, leading to a buildup of waste products. This can contribute to swelling, chronic inflammation, and general sluggishness.

(3) Digestive Sluggishness: The gut is a major player in detoxification, but paralysis (or other gut issues) often means reduced bowel motility. If digestion slows down, waste sits in the intestines longer than it should, leading to toxin reabsorption. This can result in bloating, discomfort, and fatigue. I personally experienced chronic constipation for years before realising how much it was impacting my overall health.

When detox pathways are sluggish, the body may start showing signs of toxin buildup. Some of the most common symptoms include:

• Chronic fatigue – Feeling drained despite getting enough rest
• Brain fog – Difficulty concentrating, forgetfulness
• Skin issues – Rashes, acne, dull complexion
• Inflammation – Joint pain, swelling, muscle aches
• Digestive problems – Constipation, bloating, irregular bowel movements
• Frequent infections – Weak immune function, recurring UTIs
• Unexplained headaches – Especially those that persist without a clear cause

The latter three symptoms have been clues to me that my detox pathways weren’t working well, but since I’ve been actively supporting them, those issues have significantly improved.

How to Support Detoxification Naturally

My approach to detoxing hasn’t been about extreme cleanses or fasting—it’s been about supporting my body’s natural ability to remove waste efficiently. Here are some things I have found helpful:

Prioritising Hydration: Water is essential for flushing toxins through the kidneys and urine. Many paraplegics struggle with hydration due to bladder management routines, but steady, consistent intake can make a huge difference. Adding lemon water can further support liver detoxification.

Eating a Nutrient-Dense, Anti-Inflammatory Diet: Processed foods, refined sugars, and artificial additives contribute to toxicity. Some of the best detox-supporting foods which I try to include in my diet daily are:

Turmeric and ginger – Support anti-inflammatory processes

Leafy greens (kale, coriander) – Help neutralise heavy metals

Cruciferous vegetables (broccoli, cauliflower, Brussels sprouts) – Aid liver detox

Fibre-rich foods (chia seeds, flaxseeds, beans) – Encourage regular bowel movements

Antioxidant-rich berries – Combat oxidative stress

Supporting Lymphatic Drainage: Since movement is limited, I’ve found that swimming or other exercise that means my legs are elevated (gentle handbiking) really helps stimulate my circulation and reduce swelling.

Deep Breathing and Oxygenation: Many of us unknowingly take shallow breaths, which limits the lungs’ ability to expel waste carbon dioxide. I’m still working on this one, trying to build a daily habit, but practising diaphragmatic breathing helps increase oxygenation, boosts circulation, and support detox.

Optimising Gut Health: Keeping digestion moving is crucial. Strategies that have helped me include: 

Probiotics(fermented foods, supplements) & prebiotics to balance & support gut bacteria;

Liquorice and ginger to soothe the gut lining; 

Flaxseed and chia seeds to increase fibre; 

Regular exercise and stretching / massage to stimulate bowel movement.

Sweating & Heat Therapy: Sweating is a powerful detox method, so a good workout on the handbike helps me, and I always feel good after a sauna (being careful not to burn the skin I can’t feel. Still working on a home sauna dream! 

Reducing Environmental Toxins: Everyday exposure to pollutants, plastics, and chemicals adds to the body’s toxic load. I try to use very few / no chemical products on my body (e.g. natural carrier oils with aromatherapy oils), natural cleaning products when possible.

Take a personal approach to detoxing. What works for me might not work for everyone. Each person’s body, genetics, and health history are unique, meaning there isn’t a one-size-fits-all solution. Just because Glutathione and Quercetin have helped me doesn’t mean they’ll work for everyone. I share my experience to highlight how much of a difference getting to know your body, eating well, and using targeted supplementation can make.

If you’ve been feeling sluggish, bloated, or foggy, it might be worth exploring whether your detox pathways need extra support. Small, consistent habits—like staying hydrated, eating nutrient-rich foods, and improving circulation—can reduce toxin buildup, increase energy, and improve overall well-being.

If you have experienced symptoms of toxin overload, I’d love to hear what has helped you feel your best – drop me a line 🙂 

A proactive approach and responsibility towards preventative healthcare seems vital given the health benefits and the existing overload of the NHS. 

If you are interested in taking a proactive approach you may wish to join our next ‘Rest & Digest’ online course and/or contact the Harpal Clinic in London to take up a complimentary 20 minute discovery telephone call to learn more about Longevity Nutrition for Preventative Health and how it can support you. This can be booked in with Victoria Marshall using this link.

You can also learn more about longevity nutrition here: https://www.harpalclinic.co.uk/longevity-medicine/longevity-nutrition-for-preventative-healthcare/

Imagine floating gently on water with a backdrop of Scottish mountains, sea merging to sky, magical light cast over the landscape. If like me, you appreciate “time out” but still being outdoors and gently moving, there is nothing like sea kayaking as a powerful way to reset mind, body and spirit. This inspired me to create these Transformational Sea Kayaking Retreats in Scotland – to combine adventure and nature with a dose of ‘inner growth’.

Blue spaces in nature provide a calm and healing environment. The world’s ‘Blue Zones’ illustrate that the combination of nature, activity and connection with others in meaningful ways is crucial to our health and longevity. Read more about the 2024 sea kayaking retreat here. The location of these sea kayaking retreats – the Moray Coast – is a hidden gem of Scotland: a tapestry of rock and rolling natural beauty, an area flourishing with nature and history. The sea here is ever-changing, a reflection of the expansive sky that shifts from moody greys to brilliant blues. Dolphins and seal play in the waters, and charming fishing villages with unique character punctuate the hues of blue. It’s the perfect place to enjoy the mental and physical benefits of sea kayaking, with coaching alongside nature to support you in navigating wherever you are in life.

The water-based retreats have sea kayaking as a focus. “I’ve always found nature to be like the CEO of my life. If I ever feel unclear, overwhelmed, stressed and even physically injured, relaxed time outside always seems to rebalance me.

I contributed a chapter about the healing power of nature to the book ‘Wilder Journeys: True Stories of Nature, Adventure and Connection (Watkins Publishing, 2023). Being paralysed from the chest down, finding ways into nature and particularly these blue spaces has been fundamental to my wellbeing. I spent over a decade committed to a Paralympic cycling career, led primarily by my desire to spend more time outside and to move my body, and now I am excited to help other people do the same. Any challenge in life can stretch and stress us and create imbalance in our mind and body, so we can all benefit hugely from getting into these restorative blue spaces”. 

The benefits of sea kayaking

The focus of these sea kayaking retreats is on wellness, with multiple benefits such as:

Meditative Movement – The gentle rhythm of paddling and the sound of the sea create a perfect flow state for relaxation.

Stress Reduction – Time on the water helps quiet the mind, improve focus, and reduce anxiety.

Natural Healing – The fresh ocean air and immersion in nature enhance mental well-being and provide a powerful reset for the body and mind.

Confidence Boosting – Gain new skills, challenge yourself, and experience the thrill of independent exploration on the water.

Low-Impact Fitness – Strengthen your core, arms, and shoulders without the strain of high-impact activities.

Whatever you do, you’ll be enhancing your immune system and benefiting your wellbeing, and supporting your metabolism and mitochondria. In conjunction with a group of others with sufficient space, you’ll also be helping yourself further with feelings of belonging and connection.

All instruction, equipment and high quality guiding is included. See ‘Scotland Retreats’ on this page for more information and to enquire. Next dates are 28th June – 2nd July.

Antibiotic resistance (AMR) is a global issue, affecting countries across all regions and income levels, posing significant challenges to public health and treatment efficacy. Persons with spinal cord injury or disorder (SCI/D) are particularly susceptible to antibiotic resistance due to their heightened risk of recurrent infections. This blog takes a look at these themes in releation to supporting the immune system to cope with chronic urinary tract infections, a topic that my own health challenges have led me to explore. 

In response to this rising challenge of antibiotic resistance, the government announced its new national action plan on antimicrobial resistance, a five year plan to protect people and animals from the risk of drug-resistant infections.Researchers are making progress, but clinical trials need to be developed to ensure safety and efficacy in humans. 

Researchers from Imperial College London have made significant strides in combating antibiotic resistance. They have discovered a method to impair antibiotic-resistant bacteria, such as E. coli and K. pneumoniae, by inhibiting a protein that drives resistance formation within these bacteria. Dr. Furniss from Imperial emphasizes that “due to the challenges in discovering new antibiotics, it is crucial to develop strategies that extend the lifespan of existing antimicrobials.” 

Additional progress was made in January 2024 when scientists discovered a new class of antibiotics that can kill one of the major drug-resistant bacteria threatening human health. Gram-negative bacteria are protected by an outer shell containing lipopolysaccharide (LPS). No new antibiotic for Gram-negative bacteria have been approved in more than 50 years, but this study with Zosurabalpin successfully treated highly drug-resistant strains of pneumonia and sepsis in mice, and is now being tested in human trials. 

Protecting our own health and that of others around us, means taking steps to help prevent antibiotic resistance. This starts with using preventative measures related to good nutrition and certain foods that can help avoid antibiotic use whenever possible.

If antibiotics are essential, standard measures should be taken to inhibit the development of resistance: clinical recommendations suggest:

• Avoid their use with viruses.
• Avoid saving antibiotics for next time.
• Take a course exactly as prescribed and complete it to the end.
• Do not take antibiotics prescribed for another person. 

For people like myself with SCI/D, other effective preventative measures like good hygiene and catheter maintenance are crucial, and a prevention strategy may include use of grapefruit juice and seed extract, D-mannose, Cranberry juice or extract, and choosing a diet that limits formation of debris and stones in the bladder or kidneys, which can attract further infection. This means stablising the pH of the urinary tract through diet: minimising intake of sugary and processed food, being measured in eating oxolate-rich foods, and also limiting dietary sources rich in purines. 

Thanks to the Harpal Clinic London for helping me explore my own health more deeply.

The benefits of ‘blue space’ and of nature, adventure and connection are increasingly being recognised. Wise to the health advantages of time outdoors, a group of reflective explorers on a ‘sea kayaking retreat’ left a huddle of wheelchairs sat on the shore beside the waters of Moray, Scotland.  A diverse set of adventurers, we were delighted to explore beneath cliffs, archways and geological beauties of the coastline, treated to rich bird life, pods of dolphins and the inspiration of a great group of people. 

The Moray coastal area is a hidden gem, a ‘blue zone’ of Scotland with its picturesque and rugged coastline, a tapestry of rock and rolling natural beauty that etches a line between the North Sea and restorative countryside. We had five days together on the water, and we could feel our bodies and minds release and reset. Blue spaces in nature provide a calm and healing environment. The world’s ‘Blue Zones’ illustrate that the combination of nature, activity and connection with others in meaningful ways is crucial to our health and longevity.

The sea is ever-changing, a reflection of the expansive sky that shifts from moody greys to brilliant blues, merging to sky, magical light cast over the landscape. Dolphins and seals play in the waters, and charming fishing villages with unique character punctuate the hues of blue. 

The water-based retreats had sea kayaking as a focus and were inspired by my own reverence for nature. I’ve always found nature to be like the CEO of my life. If I ever feel unclear, overwhelmed, stressed and even physically injured, relaxed time outside always seems to rebalance me. I contributed a chapter about the healing power of nature to the book ‘Wilder Journeys: True Stories of Nature, Adventure and Connection (Watkins Publishing, 2023).

Being paralysed from the chest down can make accessing nature more challenging, but finding ways to be in these blue spaces has been fundamental to my wellbeing. I spent over a decade committed to a Paralympic cycling career, led primarily by my desire to spend more time outside and to move my body. Now spending time in these restorative blue spaces helps me navigate through life with a sense of balance and peace. 

There are plenty of possibilities out there for water-connected time out. Finding a way to enjoy the benefits of blue space in a way that suits you is likely to elevate your health and sense of wellbeing, be it wild swimming, paddleboarding, surfing or simply being beside a body of water. Whatever you do, you’ll be enhancing your immune system and supporting your metabolism and mitochondria. Do it with a few other lovely humans and you’ll also be helping your health with important feelings of belonging and connection.

Nature restores us. If connected ‘time out’ in Scotland or Mallorca appeals, either as part of a retreat or one to one, drop me a line. I would also like to acknowledge a very special organisation I am collaborating with, whose lens on nature mirrors my own. THE BLUE DOT – providing Eco Therapy for humans of the modern world – whose mission is to help people draw on the 4.5 billion years of nature’s unparalleled wisdom. As the team there highlight,

“Extraordinarily creative; Nature has no ego, never judges, criticises or neglects. Transcending our politics and interpersonal conflicts, Nature provides a powerful mirror for us to reflect on ourselves, others and the world around us – challenging us to expand our awareness and commitment within our healing process.”

One of my big interests as a result of years in high-performance sport and living with a spinal cord injury is how we can optimize our health. By health I mean having good energy and an ability to be present and engage with where we are, what we are doing or who we are with. Managing energy is important in a sporting context to train and perform, but I am acutely aware of how my health often hasn’t been optimal. I have had too many hospital stays, most of them very avoidable! If we don’t have good mental and physical energy for every part of our life: work, relationships, social and fun stuff, then we are living sub-optimally. 

Many of us are living with chronic stress, too much desk or computer time, dutifully conforming to expectations of our job or role, not prioritising our wellbeing and at the cost of our happiness and health. I think this quote by Belinda Kirk from her book the Adventure Revolution sums it up well (p.47). 

“We have an innate need to belong, so we dutifully follow rules and conform. This tendency has enabled humanity to build civilisations. We’re told that by behaving like this we can create efficiency and achieve success, but we’ve somehow lost the balance along the way…”  

I have definitely lost balance at times. I have often over-done things from physical training to certain foods (some of which I thought were healthy), and in the process compromised my immune system and intermittently lost my spark. We often sacrifice our health for habits that don’t serve us. Many of us rely on a health system that is great at managing acute trauma but typically not chronic conditions as a result of our lifestyle choices. We feed our brains with news that is usually bad, fill our bodies with processed food and drink, and immerse ourselves in environments that are often polluting to our energy. The risk to our wellbeing is greater than ever, and our health system is stressed.

If we want to change things we have to make an effort, but our human tendency is to resist change as it takes us out of our comfort zone. It is easier to keep on doing what we always did, but this then keeps us limited. Often, it takes a crisis before we are willing to change.

Living with paraplegia creates more vulnerability to health issues. In 2022 I was about to pedal a cool Formula 1 handbike on the back of a yacht to generate power on the boat whilst sailing to Greenland, but instead spent a fortnight in an Icelandic hospital with sepsis. Due to antibiotic resistance I needed back-shelf antibiotics. It was scary, and that was the crisis that triggered me to delve deeper into how we can take more responsibility for our health and wellbeing.  

Most of know what it is like to feel unwell, to have pain or no energy, and of course, the opposite too: to feel energised and vibrant. What would it be like to experience more of that vibrancy and health? Is it possible to feel physically and mentally great all or most of the time? 

Initiatives like the Zoe podcast and products have generated wider interest (at least in the UK), but also fields like functional medicine (focused on finding root causes), regenerative, longevity and lifestyle medicine are growing in popularity. 

My own interest in this was piqued last year on listening to podcasts by Dr Gladden at Gladden Longevity in the USA, and since then I have begun digging deeper into the ideas and searching for areas of expertise closer to home. This month I visited the Harpal Clinic in London, their mission to: “Help your body help itself”.  I met with Dr Bains, the founder, and some of her dedicated team. I am excited to be a case-study for their holistic approach to finding root causes, combining functional medicine with stress and lifestyle methods. The consultation was to explore my own health, as well as helping me consider some of the broader issues that can impact us with a spinal cord injury.  

Whilst the detail of our health and lifestyle patterns are unique to each of us, my aim is to share any insights that might be useful to you too. I’ll explore some general themes like sleep and brainwave health, stress and the mind-body connection but also some specifics like digestive system health, skin health, bladder health and urinary tract infections (UTI’s). I hope to add in some perspectives from medics, practitioners and experts to help enhance the quality and to provide different voices on each topic. More soon…

Nature offers us so many metaphors that reflect the processes and changes of our own life. Spring is here. Buds burst into life and paint a maze of colour. Early morning air is filled with birdsong and lambs play in the fields. It is the season of new life, re-birth and the promise of opportunities that light and warmth bring. For me, Spring especially presents opportunity this year: a whole new possibility that has been absent from my landscape for many years.

Have you ever had an experience where something is emerging that is so far removed from your ‘normal’ that you don’t know quite how to share it with anyone? We hardly dare speak about it as it feels so fragile, perhaps with roots that run deep into our being. We sense the excitement and curiosity, as well as the fear and vulnerability. 

I am navigating this process at the moment. Last year, a new paradigm emerged for me as I entered into exploring healthspan and how to optimise it. An opening came to speak with a healthspan and longevity specialist, Dr Jeffrey Gladden MD FACC (Gladden Longevity), who suggested that by using  a multi-disciplinary scientific approach it might be possible to aim for recovery of my long-injured spinal cord. I felt an initial loud “Yes!” However, stepping forward into this possibility has been more challenging than I expected. You may have noticed a crowdfunder that has one contribution of $25 (thank you Ryan!), and two podcasts about the project thanks to Gladden Longevity & Inspire Campfire (Scott Wurtzbacher, who introduced us). The project has not yet taken flight, perhaps not surprising given that when we are ‘wobbling’ with our external goals, the path does not open easily. 

I rarely accept the ‘status quo’, and I fundamentally believe that we are responsible for our own reality, creating it with the small thoughts and actions we allow in each moment. I created the ‘Pole of Possibility’ in Antarctica and I live a life focused on possibility. My default is to embrace life without cynicism, skepticism or fear. Part of me is observing my role in this project not yet ‘taking flight’.

How do we move stuckness and open new ways forward? How do we decide which path to take and whether it is the right one for us?  In the past I have used all kinds of processes. I use my thinking brain to consider ‘reasons for’ and ‘reasons not to’, I might break down my fears and worries into tiny parts and find small solutions that gradually build my sense of safety and confidence to step forward. I connect to my deeper core of knowing by spending time in nature, meditation and other ways of listening within. I visualise and practice what I call ‘creating future in the present’. The combination of our smart thinking mind with our inner stillness help us dance with uncertainty and find ways through these ‘big’ sorts of life decisions. 

I share here some of my process in respect to this healthspan and spinal cord injury (SCI) repair project.  
On the ‘resistance’ side, I find myself asking questions like “Is it really possible to repair a body that has been paralysed for thirty-one years?” (Perhaps a limiting belief);  “Who am I to try?” (Maybe I am doubting my self-worth); “Does it matter to me given I am already fortunate to have such a rich, full, purposeful life?” (Perhaps avoidance or an excuse); “Whilst paralysis isn’t ‘ideal’, we all have incredible capacity to adapt and I have learned to love my life as it is, why risk change?” (Perhaps I have a fear of change); “What are the risks and could it make things worse?” (Sounds like a reasonable question!). 

On the ‘receptive’ side, I find myself asking questions of positive possibility like “Health is paramount and how could optimising it enable more good energy and contribution to the world?”; “Paralysis and its complications are rising in frequency – one person is paralysed in the UK every two minutes, consuming a lot of energy and other resources for individuals, families and health systems. Could this project give useful insights to help wellbeing of all with SCI?” ; “There are fifteen million paralysed humans in the world who tend to die on average around twenty percent younger than our able-bodied friends; what if we could all live with an enhanced healthspan?”. 

I have been paralysed now since 1993, unable to move or twitch a muscle from the chest level down, nor feel touch or pain below this level (classed as a ‘complete’ spinal cord injury). My body has developed its own curious ways of communicating with me, signals which I don’t always interpret soon enough or translate into appropriate action. For this reason, I have had some near misses, as many paralysed people do. If we could develop better means to avoid or detect some of these peripheral health issues like bladder, kidney, lung or skin infections, the risk of complication or mortality would be reduced. 

In recent years and with increasing regularity, I hear of a new breakthrough and how someone with paralysis has walked. From ‘tech’ aids like exoskeletons, spinal cord simulation and electrical implants to more fundamental changes via stem-cell work, there are ‘surprise’ results around the world.  Those who gain recovery attribute it to various causes: intense neuro-physio, stem cells, and neuroplastic effects of the brain and wider nervous system. When you love your life and you have been marinated in a paradigm of ‘no cure’, it is easy to dismiss these stories as someone getting lucky, or an injury being incomplete (meaning the spinal cord is not entirely severed).

Any idea of a long healthspan and restoring function with an injured spinal cord would have fallen on deaf ears even just a decade ago. The paradigm then was that paralysis was for life and full of complicated health challenges.

Medical technology has advanced and many scientists are optimistic about future treatments that can heal a damaged spinal cord. Whilst effectiveness has been limited, scientists continue to work on ideas to help spinal nerve tissue grow back and heal. There were breakthroughs in 2023 using both stem cells that signal nerve cell repair, and in a separate study, using an artificial matrix to help cells grow. Advances in research and development of regenerative medicine methods and stem-cell technology research have brought us to an interesting place where spinal cord injury no longer seems ‘incurable’. Sometimes the biggest scientific discoveries are made when ideas from different fields collide. I am fortunate to arrive in this interesting though challenging place, one which rocks my comfort zone and the ‘old’ paradigm that spinal cord injury is ‘incurable’, or that the health challenges it brings are something we have no agency to improve.  

The Project

Dr Gladden has insight and experience with regenerative medicine and has offered to apply regeneration medicine methods to optimise my body environment for healing. The work with Dr Gladden will assess the ‘health’ of my paralysed body using various diagnostic and laboratory tests to assess each system of my body. The results combined with his experience and knowledge of treatments to bring the body to optimal health, will prepare me for the possibility of cutting-edge SCI stem-cell treatment with leading researchers and clinicians.

The aim of the project is to take a multi-disciplinary approach,merging regenerative medicine methods with regenerative stem-cell research, neuro-physiotherapy, neuroplasticity and other modalities in approaching two specific questions:

• How can the body environment best be optimised in people with SCI to optimise healthspan and reduce minimise risk of life-threatening secondary conditions / early mortality?
• Has medical science advanced to the point that with a multi-disciplinary approach, joining together different fields of medicine and research, that spinal cord communication can be recovered even after decades of paralysis? 

My life as a paraplegic has been so rich in experiences, adventures, unique perspectives and human connections that I have grown to love it. When you love your life, it is easy not to embrace change; but change is the only thing certain in this life. It always guarantees learning and holds intriguing possibility. 

This project has been slow to ‘take flight’ in part due to my discomfort with asking for support for something that feels so ‘wild’ to my own thinking. It eases my discomfort that it an contribute knowledge and insight to a growing global health issue, not only for SCI but for all of us interestsed in optimising our health. I sincerely thank anyone who resonates with it and thank you for either contributing or sharing.

More details on the project and the revised, staged approach I plan to take are within the fundraiser link here https://gofund.me/44b3531a I would like to invite you to be part of this journey with me, and to offer something back. If you are able donate $25 or more, please email me via my website and let me know what you would most appreciate from the ‘menu’ of things I am offering in return for donations, listed within the fundraiser.

I recently returned from a journey through southern India. I love the unique energy, vibrancy and sense of chaos of this incredible country. From representing an empowerment charity at a disability inclusion festival via a cycle tour, a very special orphanage and an incredible stay at an Ashram, I felt inspired and enriched. However, by the time I returned home I was longing for the peace and simplicity of a more routine, predictable life. 

Time in India was a great reminder of the complexity of life. How do we flow and flourish and engage with all the choices and possibilities around us, meet the needs and expectations of everything that we are committed to, and maintain a sense of strength, calm and balance? It is an art that takes practice. 

It feels wonderful when we get it right and things feel to flow; less joyful when we get out of balance and we have that sense that there is ‘never enough’ time or energy. 

Thanks to this time in India it has re-focused me on what I really enjoy, and that is exploring and tuning our mindset so that we can be our optimal selves. We have the ability to shift our perceptions, to employ strategies to support us through change and to new aspirations, as well as to tame any rising ‘not enough-ness’, fear or vulnerability. We can strengthen our natural energy to change and adapt. We can be open to receive support from the connections, communities and the natural world that surround us. We can be kind and compassionate to ourselves to navigate from the busy-ness of more challenging times to a place where we re-connect with our sense of calm and our solid foundation.  

I am excited to share with you ‘Innergoldlife Retreats’: opportunities to do just this, set in the beautiful natural environments of Mallorca (Spain) and Scotland. These one-week retreats will bring focus to sculpting your mindset and changing your perspectives to support you with changes, challenges and transitions in life. The programmes are designed to enhance your natural energy and to inspire you with special environments and people, with time in nature and in the spirit of an aligned group. Perhaps you would you like to join one of these opportunities to explore some ‘Inner Gold’? Or know someone who would? 

I will host a discovery call on this theme and the retreats on Thursday 29^th February, 5pm UK. If this lights any curiosity in you, please come and find out more by clicking this link to REGISTER. 

We all have psychological barriers: things that seem daunting enough to feel impossible. Climbing Kilimanjaro by handbike should have been in that category…read on to find out why it wasn’t!

The intimidation of the unknown can be enough to stop us, as does our tendency to ‘ambiguity bias’: we tend to take decisions favouring known outcomes rather than taking chances on choices with unknown probabilities, or to favour a narrative of likely ‘failure’ and in doing so we almost inevitably generate that outcome. But this wasn’t the case for me with Kilimanjaro.

Climbing Kilimanjaro had never seriously been on my radar. After all, how would I? Climbing mountains was something I did before becoming paralysed from the chest down. But a ‘four-minute-mile’ effect impacted my mental view of it. For years, runners had been striving against the clock, but the elusive four minutes had always beaten them. It was a seemingly unconquerable mountain, until Roger Bannister succeeded. Within months, many other runners broke the four minutes and it became common place. Wharton School professors analysed the lessons for business of the four-minute mile phenomenon, in a book entitled ‘The Power of Impossible Thinking’. It wasn’t human evolution, genetic engineering or physiology that made the difference, but the shift in the mental model. Others suddenly saw how they could do something they had previously thought impossible.

Kilimanjaro had circled around me for decades: the volcanic slopes of the world’s largest free-standing mountain inevitably caught my eye when I once visited Tanzania, and soon after that I met an American paraplegic guy who had made an attempt up Kilimanjaro. He had reached Gilman’s Point, the first point on the crater rim. Following that I heard of the first paraplegic to summit Mt Kilimanjaro unassisted, by handbike, and more recently Martin Hibbert, paralysed in the Manchester arena bombing, summitted Kilimanjaro in a special wheelchair. The logistics company I contacted even had a ‘recommended wheelchair route’ for the mountain and as a small team of us gathered with the summit in mind, I came to the assumption that climbing Killmanjaro by handbike would be no problem, “Hakuna matata!”

On summit day, our fifth day on the mountain, clinging to aggressive scree, I wondered what on earth I’d been thinking. Inching forward then sliding almost as far back again, I waivered in my belief. The scree steepened, the slope finally too vertical to hold the rocks and volcanic rubble. As I looked up, I felt the doubt creeping into my neurons. “How?” It was impossible to navigate assisted, never mind unassisted! The steep, broken slabs of rock were way beyond the capability of my handbike, and it was an amazing set of wheels, The clearance and gearing on the ICE trike and the terrain it can manage is astounding.

Positive mental models are wonderful. They stretch us, challenge us, enable seemingly impossible things to unfold. But sometimes our desired end state, a compelling goal, our natural cognitive mechanisms and the overall mood of a team can take us into an optimism bias. All of this is good, as long as it doesn’t blind us too much or get in the way of thorough preparation.

There is no smooth, wheelchair accessible trail up Kilimanjaro. It takes intent, desire, resilience, the right equipment, a positive energy and a good team. There is a compelling, beautiful mountain awaiting and clearly, the possibility exists to make it.

Thanks to the team of guides and porters, we did make it to the roof of Africa and to the summit of Kilimanjaro. It was harder than we anticipated, the effects of altitude tougher, the length and difficulty of the scree magnified beyond expectation. I needed help. Between pedalling I was pushed, pulled, shoved and carried. Lucas the Masai was targeted as the strong, tall, blood-drinking main man for piggy-backs!

If you fancy Kilimanjaro, whether you are walking or going with wheels, please go to this mountain with the mantra of ‘pole pole’ (slowly, slowly in Swahili). Nothing about a four-minute mile will help you get up, other than adopting a mental model of moving beyond what seems impossible. Be optimistic, but also be wise to the facts. It is not a walk in the park: you will likely laugh and cry on the journey, there will be headaches, the scree is long and steep, the crater rim is spectacular.

Once again though I am reminded of just what is possible when a good team, good technology and a bit of tenacity come together. Thank you all involved!
Special thanks to ICE trikes and to my team-mates Kevin Benstead, Steve Bate, Mike Webster, Sherrill Mason, Bow Monk, Amelia Monk, Jannie Johnson, to African Scenic Safaris, and to the charities who partnered with us: Voice of Specially Abled People and World Jenny’s Day