Sidetracked Field Journal
No. 334: Above All Else
Each week, our Field Journal newsletter lands in the inboxes of more than 23,000 subscribers. It’s a curated round-up of what we’ve been working on and what’s caught our attention – bringing together original storytelling, photography, films and carefully selected links from across the world of adventure. Below is a recent edition. If you’d like to receive Field Journal directly to your inbox, you can sign up for free here.
‘If a dream is easy to achieve, is it even worth trying? A dream should be just on the cusp of what is possible.’
—Tim Howell
The wind is whipping up the north face of the Eiger, blasting ice crystals against exposed skin, numbing my fingers. A buff covers my face but my goggles are fogged by warm breath. The full-face helmet keeps my ears warm and muffles the noise of the helicopter hovering about 60m away from me. I look down at my toes, shuffling them closer to the edge of the cliff. Soon I’ll have a countdown over the radio.
The helicopter will be filming me, and I can afford any second-guessing if I am to synchronize the movement of the heli and my flight. I need to react instinctively to the countdown. More than 1,000 jumps have created muscle memory. There is no need to overthink the actions; just let them play out and react to any negatives.
The radio sparks into life. ‘Three.’ My right foot leads, toes pressed into a little edge of limestone to give me maximum traction when I push.
‘Two.’ I lean back to gain momentum to push forward.
‘One.’ I spring into life, looking down towards the alpine meadows below, and my legs extend, pushing away from this notorious face of the Alps. My body follows my head and I extend into the perfect flying position. The suit inflates, creating an aerofoil; I spread my arms and legs to put tension on what is now a rigid wing. Intuitively I turn to my left, flying metres away from the cliffs at speeds of up to 240kph.
But this is just a test run – a warm-up for bigger things to come on bigger mountains.
Stories Behind the Gear: KAVU
I pulled through a quintessentially Pacific Northwest scene. The mirror-flat lake reflected the setting sun and the pine trees lining the lagoon. Each paddle stroke sent capillary waves towards the shore, a slight wake trailing behind my kayak. We were enjoying an evening paddle around Drayton Harbour on the US-Canada border. A bald eagle, a little ruffled, perched on a protruding tree branch; a couple of cormorants stood on the dock, wings out like preachers, presiding over the seals. The sky was clear. It was a CAVU day. Or, as I’d come to learn, a KAVU day.
On the Cuillin Ridge with Danny MacAskill
I try to rationalise fear – sometimes maybe too much. I try to assess the consequences. There’s a bit on the Cuillin Ridge called Collie’s Ledge – a thin trail, maybe 1m wide in places, with a 300ft drop off one side. You wouldn’t be having a good time if you fell off there. But before riding it you make sure you know about every loose bit of rock that could affect your path, any stuff that could catch you off guard. And then, when you’re on it, you think: well, riding along a pavement that wide is straightforward. You just make sure you don’t clip any pedals or anything like that.
Sidetracked Volume 35
How would these fully loaded boats handle in the rapids ahead? Xaver’s expression betrayed his doubts. ‘I don’t think it’s going to be easy,’ he said. I could only agree. But all we could do was try. We climbed into our packrafts, deeply laden with equipment – including mountain bikes – and I tried to visualise the challenges that lay at the crux of our journey two days ahead. Then I dipped my paddle into the water to take the first stroke.
Summits, Setbacks and Second Chances
Adventure is often goal-oriented. People set aspirational challenges to push their physical and mental limits - setting out to climb the highest mountains in the world, swimming the Channel or taking on ultra-marathons not because they are easy feats, but because they are hard.
Photographing the Women of Svalbard
Rather than focusing her lens on glaciers, polar bears, and the northern lights, Lemblé documented the women who live and work in and around Longyearbyen – mechanics, researchers, guides – highlighting the human presence in a landscape often depicted as remote and forbidding. Shot on medium format film and shaped into a carefully sequenced book that includes historic archival images sourced from the Norwegian Polar Institute, the project quietly challenges how we imagine the far north’s wilderness and communities, and who belongs within them.
What it Takes to Make Something Great
Letters to a Young Creator features reflections from Tim Cook, Jony Ive, Paola Antonelli, Jon M. Chu, Es Devlin, and many more on what it takes to bridge the gap between idea and execution.
The Richness of Being Alive
Facing a terminal cancer diagnosis, Rob Shaver commits to running every day to make the most of each moment. This deeply personal story explores finding joy, connection, and gratitude through movement despite immense physical challenges.