If you looked at my calendar, you’d see a chaotic map of motorway miles, climbing chalk, and clinical recovery. As a self-employed outdoor instructor and rehabilitation specialist, my “office” changes by the hour, and my mission is always the same: helping people redefine what their bodies are capable of after life has changed the rules.
Here is what it looks like when adventure and recovery collide in a single week.
The Week in Motion
Monday began in the quiet focus of a clinical setting, providing soft tissue therapy for a gentleman with Cerebral Palsy. From there, the energy shifted—first to a fast-paced game of rehabilitative table tennis, and then to the climbing wall with a young woman navigating life after a brain injury. Seeing her find her footing on a vertical wall is a powerful reminder of why I do this.
Tuesday was defined by the rhythm of the road. I covered 300 miles, trekking from Barnsley to Peterborough and back, all to ensure a client with a brain injury could get back on the rope and keep their progress moving forward.
By Wednesday, I was smelling of woodsmoke and damp earth. I spent the morning teaching Bushcraft in Hull, showing others how to thrive in the woods, before the sun went down and I headed out to coach a group in the technical, high-stakes art of night navigation.
Thursday was a masterclass in resilience. I spent the day at two different climbing walls working with amputee clients who had lost limbs in accidents. Watching them adapt their technique to a new reality is humbling. I finished the day under the bright lights of a Virgin Active gym, working their indoor wall.
Friday took me to Northampton for more indoor climbing, but the day didn’t end at 5:00 PM. As night fell, I swapped the harness for a helmet, leading a mountain bike group through the trails by headlamp.
The weekend brought a shift from teaching to doing. Saturday was a classic day of rock climbing at Wharncliffe, feeling the gritstone under my fingers. Finally, Sunday was “office maintenance”—a white water SUP session at Matlock. Even the coach needs a coach, and there’s nothing like a cold river to sharpen your skills and remind you why you love the water.
The Constant Thread
From the quiet of a physio room to the roar of a white-water rapid, my week is a blur of different faces and environments. But whether I’m helping a survivor walk or a climber lead their first route, the goal is identical: finding strength where it’s least expected.
No two days are the same, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Get in touch if we can help you in any way.