From climbing up mountains to jumping off them
Algeria has just opened its doors to visa on arrival. This gave us the perfect opportunity to explore the desert in the South. Although the check-in counter at Geneva airport had never heard of our type of visa we had no trouble making it to our final destination of Djanet. The internal flight across the desert was 4 hours long, which really gave us the scale of this huge country. Algeria is 90% desert and is the largest country in Africa.
Below the tip of my toes is a 300-metre drop onto the glacier below. My foot is curled over the edge of the rock. Gaining maximum purchase as I push off at a perfect angle, pre-determined by a thousand other jumps. Ingrained into my muscle memory. Practice doesn’t necessarily make perfect, but it does make permanent so I’ve made sure to practice perfectly.
Dawn is just breaking in over the horizon. Zohre is perched on a limestone ledge, hanging out over the abyss, tethered to the wall with an anchor. As I take a photo she is painting her nails. It’s not a vain plight for the instagram followers but a sign of liberty. Out in the mountains she can show her personality. The mountains for most offer freedom, but for Zohre it’s freedom in the most literal sense. The mountains are a place where she can dance, put on her lipstick and wear the clothes that express herself as an individual, such things would be frowned upon in the cities.
There has been lots of questions about my wingsuit BASE jump from Lord Berkeley’s seat. I thought I would try and answer some of the technical questions in this article.
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A recce is seldom wasted, a phrase I have abided by ever since hearing it 10 years ago whilst serving as a Royal Marine. In this case it was no exception. We came to establish relationships with the locals, to set up a suitable camp and locate the access for the climb as well as landing for a potential BASE jump.
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Growing up I was surrounded by sailing. I would walk to nursery along the foreshore listening to the cables slapping against the masts. But while my friends grew up to become national champions and presidents of the local clubs, I instead looked up to the mountains. On ski holidays I would gaze up at the snowy summits and wish to climb them without the use of lifts. As a christening present a family friend promised me a set of sailing waterproofs when I came of age, and on my 21st birthday he reminded me of this offer. Instead I asked for a contribution towards my first parachute.
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We were approached by a wealthy Saudi philanthropist who wanted a film commissioned. The aim of the short film was to progress the slow movement of gender equality in the Kingdom. What we ended up with was a 4 minute film that was slated by the international press, wasn’t filmed in Saudi and ended with the slogan “behind every Woman is a great man.” So this is the story of how we got to that end result.
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Soles from boots littered the trail. Left behind during thousands of ascents from local guides. Anderson told us he had lost count of how many times he had made this ascent, and it reminded me to donate my boots to him after this trip. We hiked on the trail to a ridge line of dense shrubs, then into the higher altitude grassland. My fatigue told me I was at altitude yet the landscape did not. Not compared to the scenes of the Mont Blanc Massif I am used to. Instead a dry eerie landscape haunted by twisted rock and draping moss.
Piz Badile was the only unknown in my North BASE Project. I was sure over the next two days the time and effort would pay off and we would get our new exit point, but after the fifth hour of searching the summit ridge I begun to doubt. I had climbed the North face 2 years ago. A few people had searched the mountain for a wingsuit exit but weren’t content with what they found. The mountain still remained unjumped.
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