Ian Finch

Driven by discovery - In adventure, the mechanics of nature & the human journey • Adventure Journalist • Photographer • Storyteller • [email protected]

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“Of These Wild Woods” - Blacks Kit Review

I’m often asked about my favourite wild corners of the landscape to spend a night under canvas. After a scratch of the two-day stubble and wistful gaze into the distance I usually struggle with a definitive answer. I battle between Snowdonia's quieter western border where the mountains meet the sea or the jagged peaks that cradle Loch Lurgainn up in North West Scotland. Each location occupies a truly wild corner of my heart and somehow satisfies a quieter more reflective side of my nature. They also can be brutal and demand that you are prepared for what Mother Nature has in store.

In the past I’ve walked the entire length of the Outer Hebrides Islands, crossed frozen pack ice in Greenland and canoed 2000 miles of the Yukon River. Where mental, physical and logistical preparations are key, kit and clothing choices play a huge role in the success and enjoyment of any adventurous journey. Whether on a narrow mountain ridge or an ancient woodland trail we want to be comfortable and equipped. Wherever you go, some sound clothing prep and foreknowledge of local weather conditions should keep you at the very least adapted and ready for whatever challenge comes along.

With that in mind I recently partnered with Blacks, the UK’s leading outdoor retailer, to road test some of their newest items of clothing. Part of Blacks approach as well as their sound product knowledge is getting live on the ground testing and feedback of their kit. To me, this is what suppliers should be doing and is what sets them apart in the UK marketplace.

On the backseat of my 4 X4 I had an Osprey Talon 44 rucksack, a super lightweight Berghaus waterproof shell, a Mountain Equipment Astron Hoody and a Berghaus Cairngorm 2 tent. I had two days off and I wanted a short sharp hit of wildness. I decided to drop into a deep wooded pocket of the Cotswolds, a valley bowl that overlooked the Severn Estuary and the fringes of Wales.

On the pack front, the Osprey Talon 44 is one of the top technical over night packs out there. It’s light, nimble and super comfortable even when loaded heavy. The Osprey design teams always pay attention to the small details that matter – The toggle whistle on the shoulder straps, the updated airscape back pad to effectively circulate air and the continuous and smooth hip belt. These made a huge overall difference to the comfort of my journey. For me the real key additions are the trekking pole attachments and the floating lid for extra capacity. This will become my go to overnight pack.

Beneath the Talon I wore the Mountain Equipment Astron Hoody in a deep red over a standard t-shirt. My initial thoughts were that this appeared to be a multi-use spacious soft shell with a crossover sporty appeal. The two Polartec fabrics provided sound windproof ability on the high ground and I felt protected by its weatherproof DWR (durable water repellency) when the drizzle threatened. One of my big plus points were the 3 adjustment options for the hood, the smooth inner fleece fabric and its overall light weight. This is a great 3-season jacket, especially for those running the trail.

As the afternoon weather darkened and began to drizzle it was time to turn to the Berghaus Fastpacking Waterproof Shell in vibrant blue. I wasn’t sure what to make of this jacket as I held it and moved it between my fingers. The material is so fine, the product so light. As I slipped this over my lightweight down jacket it felt secure and snug, an impenetrable barrier. I found it amazing how this packed so small and packed such a waterproof punch. If a tough multi day jacket is what you’re after I’d probably go for a hard shell, yet for backpacking and a day in the mountains I wouldn’t look any further than the Berghaus Fast shell, it’s a key component to a short lightweight adventure.

As dusk landed I’d found my hidden hilltop. With 360-degree view of the valley, I pulled out the Berghaus Cairngorm 2 tent. At 3.7kg it could be considered a fraction heavy for the solo light back packer or wild camper. Having said, for an adventurous duo, this is certainly a tent to consider. The four colour coded poles were easy to assemble even in low light. Once in and the cross poles pinned the tent takes shape instantly and effortlessly. Once pegged and clipped down I noticed the feature of glow in the dark guy-lines, a thoughtful and brilliant idea. The tents dual entry at its nose and spacious porch makes kit storage well away from the inner sanctuary. What I found impressive was how rock solid this tent was; I’d certainly feel safe in tough weather. All in all first time pitch was around 10 minutes. A two-person adventure cave for under £150? This is certainly worth a serious look.

Images 1, 3, 4 by Neil Irwin at www.nirwin.co.uk

Images 3 and 6 - By www.Blacks.co.uk

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4 Things I learnt From Nature School

Over the years I’ve found inspiration comes from many sources. Photography, film, people and literature – All have the power to shape lives and light an internal fire. I’ve often found illumination in the adventurous journeys of others; ones that share a chronicle of a life lived fully. Yet, up until recently I’d barely thought to look towards the much younger generation as a source of inspiration. Maybe it’s because I’m not a father yet and my time spent with children as a whole has been limited to the rare experiences I’ve had with my nephew.

The catalyst for this post smoldered inside me as I drove home from a day spent with 4 to 9 year olds at Grow Your Own Nature School in Bath. GYOS is a beautiful and humbling education project. Set amongst the serene hills of the Cotswold’s the focus of the nature school is to develop social and emotional skills, promote child led projects and incorporate social and environmental sustainability into their learning. All this is done within the framework of leadership and inspiring staff that use nature and the outdoor experience as their classroom.

I’d arrived with my pre-planned delivery of the Yukon expedition story. I was primed to spark fire in the hearts of a new band of explorers and illuminate the beacon of adventure and worldly curiosity. As I stood in front of the children and we began to speak I soon became aware of their already passionate and collective interest in the outdoors. Little did I know that this was no ordinary school and that I was about to get a crash course in living and learning from children 28 years my junior, here’s why:

1)    Gratitude

When my talk was finished the children shared one thing they were grateful for whilst holding a wooden stick. The stick represents the child’s chance to speak without group interruption and for the others to respect this moment (A Native American tradition). At lunch we sang songs around the fire giving thanks for the food and nature. Also at the end of the day the kids shared one person they were grateful for and one word that expressed how they felt in that moment. Gratitude became the wonderful thread holding the happiness together.

 2) Curiosity

Throughout the day the children continued to inspire me with their vibrancy and endless curiosity for the world. There was a fearlessness and endeavor to their questions that I adored. In everything I sensed inquisitiveness and a desire for understanding. In an adult world full of responsibility and social pressure sometimes we forget to always remain curious and interested in other people and the world. To do this with a child like sense of wonder can only impact our lives in a beautiful way.  

 3)    Acknowledgement

Once the talk had come to a close the children acknowledged, whilst holding the wooden stick, their individual thanks and appreciation for what they enjoyed most about the Yukon story. It was humbling to find that some of the most interesting aspects of the story were those moments of risk and challenge. I sensed growth in not only the children’s awareness but in my appreciation of those virtues of patience, listening and acknowledgement.

4)    Nature, The Worlds Best Teacher

Nature is the greatest teacher and the outdoors is the finest classroom. From the short time I spent with these children I was humbled to see how this nature based free play and outdoor learning was positively impacting these children to a degree I’d rarely seen. I witnessed happiness and a free state of spirit in this diverse play experience that I’m sure could only contribute to their healthy development. It appeared that their time spent outdoors and their gratitude for nature was the ultimate framework for their educational and emotional growth.

Anna, one of the founders said it beautifully: “We very much feel that pioneering the Green House Education Project approach to living and learning has and is a wild adventure, driven by an invisible call to finding a better way, to live, to be, to learn and to raise the next generation for a better, more compassionate, connected and peaceful world.”

Amen to that.

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Travel & Expedition Writing - How To Share Your Story

After school I didn’t think much about attending a writing course. I also didn’t go to university to study English or journalism. If I became inspired I would write on the nearest notepad, paper or napkins. Early on my writing had a theme but no point; it had feeling but no structure. I would try to describe how a landscape appeared to me, or the intricacies of a bird in flight and sometimes the visceral feelings of being exhausted and cold. I would wake up at 4am, write (sometimes on the toilet) and go back to sleep. I often struggled to write about things where I wasn’t presently or directly involved. Years passed as I followed an almost instinctive urge to write. I had no destination in mind. I did it for the love, the creative rush and the release.

Becoming older the creative growth mirrored the spiritual and physical journey. Travel (and later expeditions) became a lightning rod to the writing process with all its visceral sensations and emotions. Exposure to new and ancient cultures plugged me into an overwhelming landscape of inspiration. Never before did I feel more creative than when I was part of a human story in a remote environment, the two arms of the wishbone were converging. It had taken me 25 years to discover that my writing path was leading me here to discover, create and share a different kind of story. It was here, amongst the tiredness and discovery of expeditions and adventure, that I’d finally found my voice.

Today, travel writing is a widely competitive market. Never before have there been more ways get your stories read and published. From free blogs, competitions and magazines, there’s a myriad of options at your disposal. That of the “niche” expedition writing is somewhat more difficult. Like the expeditions themselves, they are few and far between and success here is momentary. This world relies on a specific circumstance aimed at a narrow and highly specialised marketplace. Yet, launching yourself into either direction is certainly achievable with regular content and being dog-eared persistent. On that note, I’d love to share my four tips that you might find useful: 

1.    Find Your Niche.

Your niche will be linked directly to your passions. When you write this will be your voice, your standpoint and your view of the world. You will determine your niche by what you write about, directly categorising your content. Start writing now, throw yourself in and enter the market. Identify areas where other travel writers aren’t focusing and bring your voice consistently to the table. See where you’re making progress, acknowledge what doesn’t work and don’t worry if your writing doesn’t fit in with the normal travel framework. Being different means you are unique and people are drawn towards the unique.

2.    Listen To Your Passion and Values.

Possibly the most important point of all. Your destinations, what you write about and how you write will be driven by your passions and values. When you begin, if you’re writing from a place of passion, you’ll be carving your niche with every letter. You’ll notice huge differences when you write about something you’re interested in rather than something you’re not. One will flow like a powerful river; and one the water will run dry very quickly. Find a subject matter, destination or way of life that makes you feel most alive and drawn to. Follow that trail of breadcrumbs, it will lead you somewhere special.  

     3.    Know the Point of Your Piece.

This is something that I had to work on a lot. Up until a few years ago I frequently over wrote my work. Before you begin the writing process have a clear vision of what you are trying to say and what you’re trying to get across. Remember, the reader is not standing in your shoes, put them there with words. So be creative, clear and concise as to what point your piece is making. Always start your work from a place of value and finish with a take away lesson.

4.    Development, Persistence and Feedback.

There is no failure, only feedback, it’s that simple. Keep writing, keep making mistakes and keep evolving. I look at writing as important as the beating of my own heart, without it i’m a ship left on the dock. With that, feedback and criticism can be hard to swallow, as writing is intensely personal. Let it fly because feedback will consistently make you a more effective and dynamic writer. What I’ve learnt is that with any skill, accepting, learning and applying feedback is key to development. Persistence is the engine driving you to your destination.

Footnote:

These tips are just a starting point to begin your travel or expedition writing journey. Even though the technical aspects of writing are certainly pivotal for success, the true creativity and depth of your writing will come from your unique and passionate standpoint on how you see world.

Images by Jay Kolsch at www.jaykolsch.com

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Mountain Equipment Titan 550WR - Review

Choosing the right sleeping system is an essential component to any form of overnight or long-term adventure.  Sound physical performance outdoors, whether just for one night or over an extended time frame, relies on us being well slept, fed and surrounded by the right kit. Yet sleeping systems nowadays come in a dizzying array of choices whether it’s down or synthetic, lightweight/medium weight, mummy shape or square. Each one has its place. One of the many benefits of choice is, with a little research and knowledge, we can now tailor our sleeping system to the specific conditions and adventure we embark upon.

With that in mind January I embarked on a winter wild camp with a new sleeping system in tow courtesy of the team at the UK’s leading outdoor retailer Blacks. Rather than heading north five hours I had the opportunity to divert west into the quiet and ancient rolling hills of the Cotswolds. This magical and secluded area, more known for its gentle and rustic beauty would feature perfectly for this short stint under the clear and frosty -5 skies. The sleeping system of choice – The Mountain Equipment Titan 550WR.

ME are known for their high end down sleeping bags. After a little research I found their multi bag Titan selection has a solid reputation and is reputedly their best value range. Receiving the bag I was initially impressed by the large loft sack accompanied by the smaller stuff sack. The loft sack being a great choice to let the bag expand and breathe when not in use. Once in location and settled into my tent routine it was time to get a closer look. Firstly, being nearly 6ft tall the length of 212cm was welcomed, these extra inches and the snug mummy shape would ensure I would have space to move and with the 625 ethically sourced down fill I’d have a warm body and conscience. The water resistant fabric used to offer protection from the annoying and ever-frequent tent condensation was also an insightful touch. Slipping in and sliding up the anti snag zip I could feel the warmth beginning to generate due to some smart internal designs. An adjustable soft “baffle” (collar) can be modified to fit around the neck, keeping warm air inside the bag. Coupled with elasticated inner seams to wrap snuggly around the body, dead air is reduced, maintaining maximum warmth in the central portion. I also noticed the “shark toe” ending to the bag, a great feature that supports the feet’s natural position when heal down and upright. I felt snug, relaxed and comfortable once the large hood was up and over my wooly hat.

With only a few nighttime waking points due to the -5 temperature that gently slipping between the inevitable openings, the overall performance and design of  the bag made this a superb choice for conditions reaching down to the minus mark. What I love about this bag is the thought and the careful process behind the bags design and ethical approach. Also, attention has been applied to the small details, and those small details make a huge difference when out on the ground. This is a high performance product with thought and innovation. And until the warmth of spring arrives it will be my premier bag.

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Lessons From Source To Sea

Written exclusively for British Exploring Society.

“In every one of the paddle strokes played the song of the Alaskan wilderness. In every tribal dialect spoken was a thousand years of history passed and in every unseen turn of the river were fear, uncertainty, discovery and learning. Sitting here, near that inevitable finish line, warn and cracked fingers scribble these words with a blunt yellow pencil. The mile wide Yukon River sweeps slowly past me on its last turning leg before draining and widening at the Bering Sea“

Looking back at these words from my crushed and dog-eared journal, written 67 days into a 90-day canoe expedition, I could never have fathomed the personal impact that such a journey would have. From the very seed and inception of the idea until the day my kit bag crashed back onto the living room floor I’ve been undeniably shaped by the depth and knowledge recieved from such a unique journey. Hard physical experience and remote regions have a habit of teaching you fast but the real lessons came from the intricate conversations with tribal elders and understanding their connection to the world they live in.

Directly from my expedition journal here are four of the valuable lessons taken from Source to Sea.

The Power of Generosity

I believe one of the most beautiful facets of the human spirit, in any culture, is generosity. Unbeknown to me traditional customs in the tribal communities along the Yukon dictate that when a visitor is welcomed into a home, regardless of ethnic background or religion, they are treated with a distinct warm friendship and kindness. Also as a mark of respect it is custom to offer the best food available, even when in short supply. What makes this generosity unique is the food and from where it is sourced (nearby forests and rivers) and so precious the message in offering it. To them, this selfless act of giving takes on a spiritual meaning. From community to community, day after day, we experienced this same level of generosity, which only deepened my perception of this special human quality. Ultimately, I found the act of true generosity was in giving time, love and friendship and asking for nothing in return.

Wilderness - A Space For Wonder

The Yukon is a powerful place and the river itself is only one part of an immense living ecosystem. The landmass covers over four hundred and eighty two thousand square kilometres with much of the southern region sitting rugged and untamed. Those basic facts alone focus the attention and open the minds door for a wondrous curiosity. The lessons of immersion in such a remote environment ran deeper than the tangible grandeur, vastness and solitude of the wilderness. Such prolonged exposure afforded the time and inspiration to question the inner vastness of our spirit on a human level. Some moments opened my eyes to the immense and cyclical forces around me, yet other occasions showed the delicate intricacies of nature and the passive turning of the seasons. Not only is the wilderness a space for wonder it regularly demonstrates (on a grand and micro scale) the often beautiful and harsh balancing act of the natural world. This alone is magical.

 Our Connection to Environment and Landscape

All of my expeditions, long or short, involve the story thread of native cultures. Within this there is my search for simplicity, wisdom and a way of life. 1st nation groups have permeated the vast Yukon River region for over ten thousand years and with that their connection to the environment and the wildlife has taken on a spiritual significance. Not only does this sacred relationship govern their way of life, it holds the key to the people and their culture. From conversations with native elders, subsistence fisherman and tribal chiefs I learnt how we as humans still require a living dynamic relationship to the landscape in order to feel connected to something greater than ourselves. And in order to deepen this connection, learning about and living close to the land was the way to achieve it. During one of those conversations I was told, “Once you have respect you care, and when you care you share, once you share you teach” – For me, these are all ways of living.

The River Of Life

On those long expedition nights, where darkness never fell, I would sit and be hypnotised by the influence of the river and its inevitable demise. In my journal I would sometimes contemplate how gradually I learnt about the rivers power and complexity. More so I would reflect on how our own human nature and lives subtly mimic the rivers journey. On July 28th 2016 – Day 67 – My journal read:

“Every man and woman has a river running through them. In us all there is a source, where everything begins. As we go through life the knowledge from tributaries, streams and other rivers gently feed into us, increasing confidence and flow. We learn to adjust and navigate as we face life’s rapids and turbulent waters. These obstacles do not cease our river yet they divert its course; the forward movement magnetised by something greater. As the river widens it has the power to give life and death, to move mountains and carve valleys, much as we learn find and follow passions we move the same mountains. At some points on our river the way is unclear and the next turn uncertain. By passing through with instinct and trust we learn to embrace the undefined and irregular. Finally, the once glacial droplet spills into the ocean and two of nature’s greatest forces are combined. Here, the pull of the river and the swell of the sea become a singular force of intricate systems working in tandem, much like us.“

Images by Jay Kolsch - www.jaykolsch.com

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Regions Of Discovery: 5 Reasons To Explore

Every journey we take has the potential to inspire, challenge, shape and teach us. These journeys can be as simple as a walk in your local park to a major expedition across oceans and to the top of mountains. It is important to note that we are talking about outdoor journeys in this article, although there is incredible value in exploring the world and your life from within your own mind and your own home. Today we want to talk about the range of benefits that outdoor exploration and journeys can provide us and what we believe to be the most powerful regions of discovery.

There is no doubt that the magic starts from the spark of an idea and continues through every single stage of the journey - from planning logistics to the physical undertaking of the adventure to sharing your story with the wider world. Both of us have done our fair share of adventuring around the world - we’ve climbed mountains, canoed rivers, sailed oceans - but we’ve also explored and enjoyed our local backyards, parks, beaches in the UK and Canada. We hope this will inspire you to see adventure everywhere you look and will encourage you to undertake journeys of all shapes and sizes as well as reflect on those you’ve taken already. They truly are one of the most rewarding experiences you will have in your life - so let’s get exploring.

Cultural

As you travel through a new environment filled with unfamiliar smells, sights, sounds and faces - one of the first regions of discovery is cultural. People, whether it’s in your local town, a global city or a mountain village half way across the world, are fascinating. Their lifestyles, behaviours, values and also their connection and relationships to one another and the world around them often appear magical and vastly different. Exposing ourselves to different cultures is one of the most rewarding parts of travelling and adventure. It’s a chance to experience and learn about different ways of living and interacting with the planet.

But it’s also an opportunity to reflect on your own culture. The version of the world you grew up in, that’s shaped you and the culture you choose to, or currently, live in. If you are coming from cultures similar to ours - urban city centres or even small towns and villages in North America or Europe - very often with international and remote expeditions, you will have the chance to experience cultures and communities that have a very different worldview and relationship to one another and the environment around them. We encourage you to be open, curious and respectful to other cultures as you plan, experience and share your journey. This can be one of the richest and most fulfilling aspects of your adventure and if given the chance, it has the potential to shift and shape your thoughts, behaviours and approaches to all or many aspects of your life.  

Environmental

Undoubtedly, one of the main reasons we as human beings undertake journeys, is to experience far off places and new environments. Our need, or in most cases, is to discover and explore the world is deeply rooted within us. However, as anyone who is planning an adventure will soon realise - there are fewer and fewer “new” places to discover and so we must be innovative and creative in the ways that we approach journeys.

Instead, we think there is a different form of discovery - not of “new” spaces and places - but instead, the discovery of Environmental awareness and connection. Anywhere you travel will be new to you. Never forget that. But the way that we experience these diverse ecosystems and environments matters - we encourage you to take journeys that will demand a close interaction with the ground, water, flora and fauna of the place you are exploring. This direct and intimate experience allows us to reflect on the interconnectedness of the world and our role within that wider web of relationships.    

When you experience different cultures, one of the most fascinating aspects is how people around the world relate and act toward their environment. As mentioned in the cultural piece above, if you are from urban areas, towns or villages in North America or Europe - despite your best efforts and intentions - our societies have become increasingly disconnected from our ancestral environment. When we experience cultures that rely on nature to stay alive, like the Yukon, or we rely on the environment to keep ourselves alive on remote expeditions, we tend to reconnect to the planet and learn or re-learn that it provides everything we need to not only survive but to thrive! In the words of Mahatma Ghandi, it accounts for human need but not for human greed. This return to simplicity and direct reliance on the environment around us often creates and strengthens our connection to the world.

Personal

When reflecting on adventures we’ve undertaken, both of us agreed that the region of Personal discovery is undeniably interwoven and creates the foundation for all other regions of discovery. But, there are aspects of it that deserve to be separately explored. We believe there are three distinct parts of the personal experience of journeys that are powerful and enlightening to the adventurer. These are Psychological, Physical & Spiritual aspects, and they can be seen as smaller internal journeys within the trip as a whole.  

(a) Psychological

The psychological journey you experience when on an expedition or adventure will often be characterised by your interaction with other people (or lack thereof) and yourself. If undertaking the journey alone or as part of a team, each will have it’s own sets of strengths, drawbacks and psychological challenges.

When adventuring as part of a team or alone, we have the opportunity to learn in-depth and first-hand about interpersonal relationships with others and our selves. When travelling with others, you tend to learn very quickly about people’s likes and dislikes, annoying habits, skills, characteristics and things you can learn and teach one another. What’s actually most powerful about experiencing journeys with other people - in some cases under pressure and in life-or-death situations - is that it provides us with a valuable opportunity to reflect on all of these different aspects in ourselves and how we show up in the world.

(b) Physical

As with mental resilience, physical resilience plays an equally integral and interconnected role in adventure. Just as you train physically for endurance and the challenges you will face - so you train your mind.

It is so important and educational to listen to your body when you are on a journey. Your safety and health must come first, but learning the difference between a life threatening exhaustion and just “feeling the strain” is vital. Obviously, you wouldn’t head out on a 3-month canoeing expedition having never canoed before - that’s a no-brainer. However, it is the training of your mind alongside your body that can make all the difference. It will allow you to understand when you have gone to far (and are putting yourself or your teammates at risk) or knowing when there is more gas in the tank and you can push further. It is amazing that on expeditions, people always surprise themselves with their ability to physically and mentally overcome obstacles when needed. This is a sign of good overall preparation.

c) Spiritual

This is an aspect of the personal journey that takes different forms for different people, but it is an integral part of any expedition. For some it is feeling a greater connection to a deity or a closer connection to nature and the earth - this is an aspect almost always experienced in one form or another. We encourage you to be open to this - to feel it, explore it, explain it to others if you can and talk about how it affects you. It may be moments shared with your teammates, or on your own. It may be a view that takes your breathe away or a feeling of complete calm as you sit by the fire. It may be the case that your exposure to other cultures will also create or enhance your spiritual experience while on your journey. In cultures that have strong beliefs about deities, spirits and the earth - your likelihood of having a profound spiritual experience are increased. Above all, seek your own version of this and if you choose not to seek it, at least be open to it finding you - we are confident it will.

Spatial

One of the most incredible parts of being on an any journey is the physical and psychological spatial separation from everyday stresses of money, commuting, work, social media - to name a few. Expeditions and journeys allow us the gift of survival and simplicity. Our main tasks for each day are getting from Point A to Point B and living to tell the tale. It’s a pretty liberating experience - but as with any adventure not without it’s moments of fear and frustration. However, the challenges faced out on adventures have very different manifestations and are often simpler than what we face at home - in the sense that they can and need to be dealt with straight away. There is no ignoring blisters on your feet when you are hiking for 9 hours a day, just as there is only one way to deal with a confrontation between you and your teammate. You don’t ignore things, you don’t procrastinate. you solve things and you solve them as fast as you can. No time for anything but forward movement. It’s a glorious approach to life that we’ve unfortunately become unfamiliar with.

Influential

As you undertake a journey, there is guaranteed to be at least one moment where you feel breathless with the vastness of the world, how small we all are and how short our time is here. For some it might be bobbing on a sailboat in the middle of an ocean, for others it might be sat on the edge of a cliff staring over endless swathes of pristine forest, or maybe it’s just lying in your tent listening to the rainfall around you. Regardless, these are magic moments. The piece of space and time when you have a choice to make. You can choose to see yourself as insignificant and powerless or you can choose to try and understand where you fit within this world and explore your sphere of influence. This is the influential region of discovery.

These moments are an opportunity to reflect and understand that your actions inspire others. We believe that ninety-five percent of the people you inspire in your life you will never know about. This is the curse but also the blessing of the modern world - we are increasingly connected yet disconnected. You can reach people with your stories of adventure and meaningful thoughts - yet most will not let you know that your actions shaped their values and behaviours. So just as we shape others through our experiences and stories - we are shaped ourselves. There are many interwoven and empowering experiences that join together to create the larger journey - your journey. We encourage you to be open to the magic that happens when you choose to adventure and please allow yourself to explore all of these regions of discovery.

We promise you won’t regret it.

This post was Co-written with Geographer and Filmmaker, Jen Pate. You can find out more about Jen at www.jenniferpate.com and www.windmill-lake.ca 

Pic (1) Credit: Tom Long

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Feeling the Loss: Life After An Expedition

I spent a year planning and dreaming about the Yukon descent. My waking life for that eternity was geared to making the journey happen. Top of the list was making it enjoyable. Problems and suffering was at the bottom.  At times, canoes, sponsors and logistics consumed my thoughts. For months I would fall asleep at night visualising the image of myself in a canoe with a paddle gripped in my hands. This would play out like a stuttering old film using the back of my eyelids as a screen. Fast-forward one year and in a whirlwind of kit bags and printed boarding passes I was off, wholeheartedly consumed in completing the journey and coming home alive.

Returning to England was magical. To see the green fields from the plane and to hear the broad London accent of the customs officer welcomed me back like a warm hug. As I waited to be picked up, the feelings of being home anxiously fizzed in my stomach like an alka seltzer.

For the next few weeks I threw myself into a frenzy of blog posts and networking with magazines and podcasts. My mind became a hurricane of new expedition ideas and a deep crevasse of memories. Albeit an exciting period I wasn’t feeling myself. There was something that needed addressing, something far more important: a feeling of loss. I noticed these hollow moments felt as if I’d lost a dear friend. Like leaving them behind alone on another continent, never to speak again. I couldn’t decipher how I felt other than I longed to be back in the unsophisticated and lucid world of my journey. I found the feeling of loss was down to leaving my friend, the expedition, behind. 

Life on the Yukon had a simplistic beauty and this is what I missed. We would wake, eat, paddle for four hours, eat, paddle for another four hours, eat and sleep. We had a target mileage each day and a clear objective. I was important, we were important, the journey was important. This way of life made sense to me in a place only my DNA could reach. In the canoe I had everything I needed to succeed; Food, water, tents, spare paddles, my journal and a direction of travel. Everything else I could live without. For three months this river routine stripped away my previous exterior and brought my character and soul back to a meditative and tranquil footing via a wilderness cleansing. In the act of coming home and losing this i’d now discovered how I wanted to live - Outdoors and with simplicity. With fire and with passion. 

Today I can feel my daily choices and decisions silently being driven by the positive imprint of the expedition and not the sensation of what I left behind. I’ve found more than ever, that I have a deep desire to live the simple and creative outdoor life. The transparency and effect of living this way now permeates through me like water seeping through rock, positively changing its structure.

I can still feel that my friend the river is out there somewhere, alive and waiting for me to return. Even though the texture of loss still remains it now serves a different purpose as a helpful reminder to what has been and what immense feats can be achieved. It’s with those nostalgic feelings in tow that I re-load my canoe with a ferocious forward thinking positivity while not forgetting to appreciate and remember my river. From here I look to the future, to the next chapter and a bright new horizon.

Images 1 & 3 - Jay Kolsch - www.jaykolsch.com

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Podcast interview for The Pursuit Zone - Yukon Descent - September 2016

Pretty damn chuffed to appear on Paul Schmidt's Pursuit Zone podcast today sharing the all important how's and why's of the Yukon River descent. If you fancy having a listen to me ramble on like a good'n go to the pod link here: https://itunes.apple.com/gb/podcast/canoeing-yukon-river-ian-finch/id663604995?i=1000374915690&mt=2

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From the ancient rugged peaks of British Columbia to the wind swept coastal tundra of the northwest. A 3 month, 2000 mile canoe journey to learn about the native people of remote Alaska

Images 1, 5 & 9 - Photographer Jay Kolsch - www.jaykolsch.com

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Exped Synmat Hyperlite Review

Achieving a good night's sleep whether out for an overnight jaunt, a multi day journey or longer expedition is something that cannot be underestimated. Each scenario requires varying degrees of kit all centered around the framework of type of journey, weather, weight and so on. I’ve certainly found sleep deprivation, for whatever reason, can turn an experience in the wild into a tired, aching adventure requiring a morning dash to dip in the nearest mountain stream. Ultimately what you’re sleeping in and what you’re sleeping on plays a crucial role in making this experience as comfortable as possible.

Over the past two years I’ve used a well-known inflatable mattress brand in Tibet, Nepal and Greenland purely based on it’s reputation and build quality alone. Where this mat faired well it lacked and underperformed in certain areas, so it was with interest and excitement that I recently had the opportunity to test and review Exped’s Synmat Hyperlite in some of Britain’s varied terrain over multiple weekends.

Weighing in under a pound (one of the lightest on the market) and compacting down to the size of a 1litre water bottle The Synmat’s light, 20 Denier fabric ensured a light packing weight was at the forefront of various excellent design features.

I continually slept well on the mat, which totaled 7 cm in height when inflated. One of my test locations was atop a flat compact mountain ledge, with minor rock and grass protrusions. I managed to inflate the mat to its full capacity with 13 full breathes but this method isn’t recommended. This process adds moisture to the core and even with synthetic insulation can affect the warmth. With the ingenious addition of the Exped “schnozzle pump bag” (picture below) the whole mat inflated in two and a half bags in quarter of the time. The inflation sack attaches via the male/female valve and uses air trapped within the bag to be pushed into the mattress chambers.

The Hyperlite two-way valve is the one of the best I’ve encountered and so well designed it ensures maximum input and zero leakage throughout the entirety of its use. The Microfiber insulation is equally distributed throughout the huge air chambers making sure there is zero compromise to heat exchange and loss if the primary surface is cold.  Being nearly 6ft in height and broad shouldered I opted for the Long Wide (LW) mat variation. Its tapered “mummy” shape works slightly to the mats detriment if cleverly designed to save weight. My regular sleeping position changes found this was still a narrow option and often one side of my body slipped from the mat – This is an important detail to consider if you are above average height.

As a whole this mat is superior in its class and now a staple 3-season addition to my kit list. Retailing at £115, its indulgent, comfy and the valve pump bag configuration is a superb handy addition for speedy inflation. In addition it has a repair kit and 2 year warranty that adds as a nice bonus to an already solid all round product.

I can honestly say; I’ve been converted.

For further information and to purchase the Hyperlite please visit:

http://www.exped.com/international/en/product-category/mats/synmat-hyperlite-lw

UK Exped stockists can be found via the UK distributor here: 

https://www.lyon.co.uk/outdoor/exped-stockists

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A 2000 Mile Canoe Journey To Find The Yukon Rivers First Inhabitants

What's the driving force behind this journey, who's going and how are we going to do it? I'm chuffed to be able to share our dedicated website for May's Yukon expedition www.pullofthenorth.com

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Riverwind - A canoe descent of the River Wye

As I sat there rubbing my hands in front of the small vehicle heater I somehow couldn’t shake the feeling that my tired eyes were playing tricks on me. I knew I was in Wales, I’d seen the sign, but this preserved and primal backdrop of winter greens and dusty browns reminded me of something closer to Canada. My warm mobile vantage point afforded me the first glimpse of the river we were to descend, through the tree line its green rolling watercourse twisted amongst the wildness and solitude of the Wye valley.  

At its source deep in the Cambrian Mountains the Wye River is still, shallow and gravelly. I’d heard stories of this river and it’s beauty long before I’d arrived. People had spoken of it being the lifeblood of the countryside, an ancient artery of commerce for the local land. They also spoke of its protected landscapes, dense native woodlands, gorges and sandstone plateaus. For friend and canoe guide Aylwin and myself it would provide the perfect multi-day opportunity to hone and refine the much-needed skills for the Yukon descent.

With the front of the canoe pointing up river, we nudged the green Old Town canoe from a flat tongue of gravel into the oncoming flow. Under a bridge near Glasbury the first arms of the river surrounded the canoe and we turned downstream, our paddles angled to straighten and project us down the central flow. On my lap I had the dog-eared pages of a small binded river map, its blue meandering route plotting our southerly course. The air temperature was a frigid 6 degrees, it was just past noon and it was 100 miles to the sea.  

For six cold hours our first day descended through the quaint Hay on Wye, Witney on Wye and Bredwardine. The subtle motion of the canoe and the reassuring sound of paddles through water brought on calmness I’d rarely felt. To our east, through the bare winter trees we could make out the rolling wooded landscapes and to our west villages with white smoking chimneys occupied the horizon. We soon found an efficient paddling rhythm of regularly switching strokes, sides and positions. This rhythm momentarily halting as we gazed up at the passing of an abandoned bridge or the sight of a soaring falcon. Later on we sat around our tents in a small dark orchard speckled in mistletoe eagerly absorbing the warmth from a searing fire. We noted how history permeated everything along this river; in the architecture, landscape and geology.

As we slid the canoe back down to the river on the second sunrise our stomachs were full of warm oats, fruit and nuts. The soon to be morning ritual of surveying the rivers temperament was observed high from an overgrown bank. Her flow was like a memory; steady, churning and rolling. The first bend brought us a set of harmless rapids before turning us into a driving headwind and shallow stream beds. With help from the clearing skies and a warming winter sun we soon became accustomed to reading the river's natural flow hundreds of yards upstream. Standing in the canoe and searching ahead, we’d watch the river in silence, choosing our line. Whether rapids or steady flow we’d point the bow (nose) into the turn and commit the boat to our decision, making minute course corrections with the paddle as we went. In the quietness between conversations, my mind correlated the likeness of paddling a river to that of the ebb and flow of life.

The next morning we awoke in Fownhope to a biting frost that cloaked the landscape. Overnight the skies had cleared and the temperature had plummeted to below zero.  As I rolled in my warm sleeping bag I noticed that my body was hurting. My wrists and hands we strained from the thousands of continuous paddle strokes and physical effort of the last three days. My knees, being posed in static positions into an unremitting cold wind, felt stiff. I knew this would pass. A tremendous sizzle brought me round as my stove water boiled over. This wasn’t a time for whining about age and failing joints, especially to a 19-year-old sprightly Aylwin, it was a time to suck it up as today the river became deeper and ever dangerous, boiling into a wild and beautiful section of water.

As we blew the cold morning cobwebs away, the warmth of our rhythmic paddling oozed through my veins, comforting the stiff cold extremities. Past Hoarwithy and Ross on Wye I noticed continued stacks of huge trees cascaded in piles against the stony uprights of bridges, simply torn like weeds from the soil and deposited downstream in flood. As the slow pace drifted us from reaching bend to run down relics we noticed how the river itself was free of human occupancy. Apart from one small group of paddlers in the upper reaches, a few dog walkers and the odd camouflaged fisherman tucked secretly into the riverbank, we’d been the only paddlers descending the river for three days. That night, we slept to the patter and tickle of rain on the tent and the intricate communications of river wildlife.

After the excitement of the rapids of Symonds Yat had settled, I looked up to find a horseshoe bend in the river framing the steep narrow cliffs. On both sides dense woodland clung to the narrow rock faces creating an enclosed, jungle like appearance. The paddles soothingly massaged and directed the canoe as we drifted down stream; the narrowing river shedding its skin once more to reveal a wilderness to which we were the only witnesses. Over my head, the long broad shape of falcons soared between the cliffs and at river level herons, buzzards, cormorants and woodpeckers elusively appeared and disappeared. The beauty and temperament of this section was unreachable, every turn felt as if you were plugging into somewhere different, somewhere far from Wales.  By now Aylwin and myself were in sync, driven by an unspoken rhythm from days of paddling, thousands of combined strokes and a little friendship. Moving at such a speed surrounded by such dramatic natural influences has such an effect. Simply boiling down to harmony and adaptability.

As our last sun rose we passed King Arthur's Cave high up on the hill at Little Doward. I later found out ancient remnants of hyena, rhinoceros and lions had been discovered there. It appears we weren’t the only ones who came to love this section of river. Passed Monmouth, Bigsweir and Brockweir the river now changed its emotion for the final time as the tidal influences of the Severn Estuary began to show their teeth. A once deepest green, the river colour now silt brown; a once fightable headwind now becoming a coastal gale. The incoming wind channeled by the river valley created a wind tunnel forcing us to fight for every metre of progress. As the hours and energy depleted, we revered in the calmer moments, resting and drifting, yet with a burst of intensity and power when faced with the turn of a corner and an oncoming wind. After four and a half days and over 77,000 paddle strokes later we drifted exhaustedly under our finish point, the Chepstow Bridge.

As I sat back in my warm mobile vantage point for the final time, I flicked through the pages of my weather beaten river map absorbing the memories. Turning to the last page I noticed a passage I hadn’t read before. “The Wye is clothed with forests or broken into cliffs. In some places they approach so near, that the river occupies the whole intermediate space, and nothing is seen but woodlands, rocks, water and wildlife; the character is of wilderness and solitude. No river perhaps flows for so long a course through well cultivated country, the banks of which exhibit so few habitations.”

After seeing this for myself over the last four days it would be easy, I thought, to be drawn into this net and move here tomorrow.

For canoe hire on the River Wye please visit http://www.ultimate-canoeandkayak.co.uk/

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Hunters Moon - Shifting Climate, Changing Culture

I sit in my cramped seat, safety belt buckled tightly; I look down at my plastic cup of tepid water, the juddering turbulence shaking its volume. As I look out through the scratched Perspex window, I watch the rapid rotation of the propellers and the buffeting of the small wing tips.  For a second as the plane momentarily dips below the grey cloud line to reveal the Arctic Ocean beneath, my eyes widen and from my high altitude vantage point icebergs the size of houses pepper the ocean appearing frozen in time. I write in my journal “even from high up you get the feeling this is somewhere special”

It’s approaching two years since I made my way to Greenland to spend time with the Inuit hunters. Every day my memory conjures up revolving images of a timeless and ancient way of life and it’s adaptation to the modernity of western influences. For the Inuit, their culture, identity and psyche is firmly rooted in their partnership between dog and man, landscape and wildlife.  For much of the year this magical balance and perfect partnership coexists with the brutal and enigmatic patterns of Greenland’s weather system. For centuries the Inuit’s success relied upon working with the weather, not against it, to thrive as a culture. Their strength and resilience as a group of people can undoubtedly be traced back to the ancestors and the ancient wisdom and religious duty passed down generation to generation. Yet in my heart I can’t help but fear times are slowly changing.

As the earth and the fragile climate have continued to warm, nowhere does it affect more dramatically than the Arctic. Ice once thick and passable has become thinner and softer resulting in an earlier shift in the spring months. The Inuit’s current subsistence lifestyle, dependent on the abundances of Arctic wildlife, is on the verge of irrefutable change. The Arctic, notably Greenland, has seen a temperature rise twice the global average. With that, the once concealed and frozen permafrost is thawing at a greater rate with each coming spring and the methane discharge into the atmosphere is steadily on the rise. This circular perpetuation of a shifting Arctic climate, encouraged by human and natural forces, will mean the ancient and magical partnership between dog and man; landscape and wildlife will have to change and adapt with it.

The strength of the Inuit people springs from the relationship to the land and the wildlife that inhabits it. Older communities centered on the preparation for the hunt, thus becoming the most important activity for the survival of their culture. In modern times this ritual and the outcome doesn’t necessarily mean life and death but the tradition and ceremony still beats on the drum and in the heart the Inuit people. Certain cuts of meat are still delivered to the elders as show of respect. The valuable skin is still awarded to the hunter who spotted and killed the animal. But what is a culture that relies on this vital relationship, without their animals in their natural habitat? What if they are forced to the mainland towards the economic market place, what for the culture then? Will these beautiful traditions nurtured and perpetuated in time, from hunter to son, through song and dance, poetry and drawings be inevitably lost to either time or the modern progress of coming generations? It’s possible that once that link with nature is broken it could be catastrophic for the people.

I have a growing concern for the future of one of the most unique and diverse environments in the world. We have a global duty to make the conscious environmental changes in our own lives that will support the ongoing awareness for climate change. This is not just for the Inuit but for all cultures, especially those that directly rely on their natural environment for subsistence living. Cultures are a breath of the human spirit, a reflection of our adaptability and strength as a species.  We have inhabited nearly every major region of the world, but what can a culture and environment truly teach us if it’s not there anymore, driven to the dusty pages of a history book, with us partially to blame.

Only so much.

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The unspoilt and secluded Cwm Pennant Valley, North West Wales

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Footsteps In Two Continents - 2015 - A Year In Review

As I sit on the sofa surrounded by dozing family members and the remnants of another Christmas gone by, the street buzzes outside the window with gizmos and shiny new bikes. For the remaining few days of the holidays my possessions lay at the foot of the stairs in my favourite rucksack falling apart at the seams. It’s soon to be hoisted over my shoulder for a pint-sized adventure before New Year's Eve.

The plan for 2015 was incredibly straightforward. After purposefully liberating myself from a time consuming yet enjoyable job in late 2014 my idea was to simplify every possible aspect of my life, refine material needs and move towards a life mostly spent outdoors. Throughout early 2014 I tussled with the notion of basic financial stability (long hour job) vs. more time outdoors; I coyly chose the latter and stepped down from a managerial role in a bid to see what new direction and knowledge could emerge in life.

I also had a number of long journeys and creative projects that I was eager to cultivate; although deep down I really didn’t know how or when these would evolve.

I truly believe reviewing our failures and successes is a constructive idea and there’s no more a perfect time to do this than during this festive lull between Christmas and the celebrations of new year. At the very minimum I reflect at least once a day. Not only on my immediate circumstances, but previous decisions that affected others and what currently isn’t working.  An honest review of your day, month or year will give you the framework to continually think about refining, if need be, certain ways of working or living. I would go as far as saying it’s a great awareness tool for progressing in whatever field of endeavour you’re in.

This Christmas I decided to focus on one time frame, the entirety of 2015. While I have honoured my small successes throughout the year I tried to focus more on acknowledging the actual steps that made the achievement worthwhile. On reflection, I found it’s the hard preparation work and seeing the tangible evidence of progress that’s far more rewarding rather than the actual moment of achievement, this point almost fleeting. The lessons learnt along the way are deep, valuable and life long and these are what we hold onto.

Of course, there were moments that didn’t go well this year. The most pertinent, my debilitating dizziness and vertigo condition I suffered from high altitude complications in the Himalayas that still trouble me to this day. It’s been a slow return to 3/4 capacities and thankfully I see a definite return to full abilities soon. I also made negative decisions to say no to certain new experiences or expeditions due to fear around the change of job circumstance and financial position. Reflecting on this I could’ve opened myself up more and found the time and resources to make them happen, to say yes more. I also failed in my ambition of setting up a new website, taking my first public speaking engagement and gaining my mountain leader qualification by the close of 2015.

In terms of success, the Tibet/Nepal, Thames River and Hebridean journeys went better than I could’ve ever imagined, each for their own reasons. I applied myself into learning how to tell a story with more thought, detail and verve, how to take my photography up a level and more importantly better understand the processes and principles behind the making of short expedition films. I’ve not been particularly good and co producing, sometimes my enthusiasm and creative eye for detail burns mistakenly as impatience, so giving responsibility to Joe Long at Speechless Films for the Paris and Thames River films gave me the opportunity to stick my ore in later on and offer creative advice at that stage – This knowledge has been totally enlightening and a thrill to apply solely to the “Upon A Ribbon Of Wildness” film which I managed myself. Thanks to a few individuals and making a lot of mistakes, I see films and cinematography in a whole new light now. Importantly, I’ve learnt to further express myself creatively, with my own voice, through writing and the moving image confident that this is a great outlet for those artistic embers that continue to smoulder inside me. The year matched, even surpassed, my expectations. One of my many goals for 2016 is to make a festival worthy film of the Yukon journey. Which leads me to..

My most unexpected turn of the year came in agreeing to a canoe partner for the Yukon River Source to Sea expedition. After suppressing my manly instincts to crack on for 2000 miles alone and talk to myself the whole way, I put out an advert for an adventurer who feels drawn to the journey I’d described. I’d hoped they could make up in certain areas where the physical engine and creativity of two would be far more efficient that one. I was blessed to find emerging adventure filmmaker Caroline from Quebec, Montreal. She shared the combined interest for learning about the people that inhabit the far western edge of the Alaskan Yukon but also the passion behind bringing their cultural and environmental message to a wider, global audience with an expedition film.

Stepping into 2016 further successes and inevitable failures will continue to be reviewed, maybe even at the same time next year, who knows. In fact, I’ve learnt a lot about what I did well in 2015 and what I’ve still got to look forward to in the simple act of writing this post and the awareness that comes from the thought process.

“Write down the thoughts of the moment. Those that come unsought for are commonly the most valuable.”

Francis Bacon, Sr.

So there’s lot to think about before and after the fireworks and bubbly of New Years have settled. I’ll be continuing to simplify my life, saving more money and refining the unnecessary material needs. I also have goals to try to be more of service and value to others by leading expeditions, bringing back knowledge, inspiring others to get into the great outdoors and to ultimately share teaching insights into the world's remote regions and indigenous cultures.

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London’s Wild Places and Green Spaces

Imagine of the star of a compass over London. Beneath its declination marks and arrows, four corner press against the twisting pavements, financial districts, cathedrals and theatres. Underneath its historic streets legions of workers and tourists travel on the subterranean systems on their daily commute.  As we expand from London’s heart in all directions iconic skyscrapers give way to urban areas, contoured parks and culturally diverse markets.

Nestled amongst these urban sprawls and villages are London’s wild places and green spaces. These are areas of rich natural habitats, of dense forests and abundant wildlife. There are numerous woodland trails waiting to be discovered amongst 10 to 2000-acre parks all under the varied mosaics of rare birds and small mammals. Imagine if you will, the compass. It’s reaching arms stretch north, south, east and west. Under those very arrows are the most beautiful and accessible walks the capital has to offer.

• North - Highgate Wood

Set in 70 acres of ancient dense woodland Highgate Wood is the little sister to the grandiose and rugged Hampstead Heath. Enter the small trailhead at Cranley gate to the northwestern end. Follow the well-trodden path as it loops unhurriedly into the heart of the wood.  Stop by the beautiful wildlife hut packed with photos and art while sipping on a latte from the café. Continue on the trail to the northern tip and follow it back to Cranley gate. Expect to jump streams and walk to the sound of woodpeckers drumming on this relatively short wander.

• West/Central - Thames River

As the iconic river snakes its way 180 miles from a meadow in Gloucestershire to London it flows through some truly beautiful and isolated terrain. As it approaches London an unforgettable stretch begins at Hampton Court Palace, passing through Eel pie Island and into Richmond. To get a panoramic of the rivers western entrance route climb the hill and sit in awe.  Back down on the river you’ll pass the fragrant notes of Kew Gardens and the sight of endless riverboat homes. The degree of this walk depends on your ability to keep strolling towards the nations capital.

• Central/East - Regents Canal

At 14km The Regents Canal walk is one of London’s best-kept secrets. Stretching from its source at the Grand Union Canal Paddington the 180-year-old river way spills into the Thames near the Limehouse basin.  Its peaceful and unbroken route is a breath of fresh air and gives a new perspective to some of London best-known areas while offering a chance to see a side to the capital most people miss.

• South – The Tamsin Trail and Richmond Park

Richmond Park is a firm favourite. A place that at times feels so rugged and beautiful words can’t do it justice. As a site of special scientific interest it’s place of great historic and wildlife importance. The Tamsin trail is a man made walking trail that reaches to the far corners of the park, leaving the interior wild and untouched. Walking at a steady rate the route should take 2.5 hours. As with any trail, discovery is rarely found on the expected path.

• Chilterns

1-hour west outside London the Chilterns are forever a place of my heart and an area of outstanding natural beauty. Covering over 300 square miles the many diverse walking trails spread across the rolling chalk valleys like a spiders web. A favourite route starts in Wendover village, where the Chilterns reach their highest point. Follow the small steep national trail, past ancient beech woods and wild flowers, to the top of Coombe Hill for staggering views across the Aylesbury Vale. Keep an eye out for the Prime Ministers country residence, Chequers, from atop this weather smoothed chalk feature.

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Expedition 2016: Yukon River source to Bering Sea - A canoe journey of 2000 miles