Mud Sweat & Tears - Bear Grylls [121]
They vary from the tough to the ridiculous, the dangerous to the embarrassing. But in this book I wanted to show my roots: the early, bigger missions that shaped me, and the even earlier, smaller moments that steered me.
Along the way, I have since had the struggle of coming to terms with recognition and the press; the tightrope of balancing the inherent risks of my work with having a beautiful young family.
Both are still unresolved.
There have been so many mistakes, failures and losses. Too many to mention.
But I do possess an acute awareness that, through it all, someone has been blessing me greatly.
Make no mistake – luck has played a huge part in all that has happened, and there is not a day that goes by without me being aware of that.
The by-product of being aware of being blessed is learning – against so many of the values of our society – to try to walk modestly, give generously and help those who need a little leg up.
Simple lessons, but they have shaped the way that Shara and I try to live our lives together.
And, I am the first to admit, we often get it wrong.
Life continues to be an adventure, and in many ways more so than ever.
I am still away from home more than I would like. (Although much less than I think people often believe.) And I have learnt that when I am at home, I am at home – not away doing press or meetings. Both of which are so boring!
Instead, I have had to learn to prioritize clearly in my life: to be safe, get home fast, and keep it fun – the rest is detail.
I still do have more risk in my life than feels comfortable – and you can’t depend on luck too often. Be grateful for the lucky escapes but don’t bank on them.
But there is no getting away from the fact that risk is with me every day when I am away filming or on expeditions.
I mean, in the last few months alone, I’ve been pinned in a big set of white-water rapids, been bitten by an angry snake in a jungle, had a close escape with a big mountain rockfall, narrowly avoided being eaten by a huge croc in the Australian swamps, and had to cut away from my main parachute and come down on my reserve, some five thousand feet above the Arctic plateau.
When did all this craziness become my world?
It’s as if – almost accidentally – this madness has become my life. And don’t get me wrong – I love it all.
The game, though, now, is to hang on to that life.
Every day is the most wonderful of blessings, and a gift that I never, ever take for granted.
Oh, and as for the scars, broken bones, aching limbs and sore back?
I consider them just gentle reminders that life is precious – and that maybe, just maybe, I am more fragile than I dare to admit.
Granny Patsie at her beloved Portavo Point in Northern Ireland.
Dad (back row, fourth from right) at the Royal Marines Commando Training Centre, Lympstone.
Family portrait, at home together in London. Guess who the good-looking baby is …
Granny and me, aged seven (about the only time I’ve ever worn a bow tie!).
Dad and me in the mountains together.
On holiday in France – that cheeky grin beginning to shine through.
Aged ten, at home in the Isle of Wight and ready for adventure.
Me, Dad and my sister, Lara, in the garden on the Isle of Wight.
My first school portrait, aged seven.
Lara, aged eighteen – always beautiful.
Mick (Crosthwaite) and me getting ready for a sailing expedition on the island, both aged eleven.
Winning the shield for the best karate student, aged sixteen, before leaving for Japan.
House cricket team at Eton, aged seventeen. I’m second from left on the front row.
Charlie (Mackesy) and me, aged eighteen, messing around as always.
Having just passed SAS (R) Selection, doing our parachute training.
Me and soldiers from my SAS (R) squadron in the North African desert.
Gritting it out in bad weather in the mountains – one of the great