Mud Sweat & Tears - Bear Grylls [72]
But above all, I feel a quiet pride that for the rest of my days I can look myself in the mirror and know that once upon a time I was good enough.
Good enough to call myself a member of the SAS.
Some things don’t have a price tag.
CHAPTER 65
Meanwhile, Trucker and I, through all of this, had been renting that cottage together, on a country estate six miles outside of Bristol. We were paying a tiny rent, as the place was so run-down, with no heating or mod-cons. But I loved it.
The cottage overlooked a huge green valley on one side and had beautiful woodland on the other. We had friends round most nights, held live music parties, and burnt wood from the dilapidated shed as heating for the solid-fuel stove.
Our newly found army pay was spent on a bar tab in the local pub.
We were probably the tenants from hell, as we let the garden fall into disrepair, and burnt our way steadily through the wood of the various rotting sheds in the garden. But heh, the landlord was a miserable old sod, with a terrible reputation, anyway!
When the grass got too long we tried strimming it – but broke both our strimmers. Instead we torched the garden. This worked a little too well, and we narrowly avoided burning down the whole cottage as the fire spread wildly.
What was great about the place was that we could get in and out of Bristol on our 100 c.c. motorbikes, riding almost all the way on little footpaths through the woods – without ever having to go on any roads.
I remember one night, after a fun evening out in town, Trucker and I were riding our motorbikes back home. My exhaust starting to malfunction – glowing red, then white hot – before letting out one massive backfire and grinding to a halt. We found some old fence wire in the dark and Trucker towed me all the way home, both of us crying with laughter.
From then on my bike would only start by rolling it down the farm-track that ran down the steep valley next to our house. If the motorbike hadn’t jump-started by the bottom I would have to push the damn thing two hundred yards up the hill and try again.
It was ridiculous, but kept me fit – and Trucker amused.
Fun days.
We lived the life of our many student buddies out and about the town, yet would also then suddenly disappear for three weeks with our squadron, returning as soon as we could with a nice suntan – back to the pretty girls of Bristol.
It was a perfect existence, and only a handful of our close buddies ever knew that we weren’t just normal students – albeit students who didn’t go to lectures. (Although few of our buddies seemed to go to many of those, either!)
It was a perfect ‘work hard, play hard’ lifestyle. We were fit, doing a job we both loved, yet, when we were not with our squadron, we were having a great time in a university town.
Two years passed like this, and as a young man I was living my dream.
I mean, find me a young man who isn’t going to love being trained in how to blow stuff up, climb cliffs, skydive at night and practise evasive high-speed driving!
But it had taken a lot of hard work to reach that point.
Along the way, Trucker and I encouraged several close friends to try for Selection as well, but sadly none of them ever got very far down the road. Some people suited the life, others simply didn’t.
One of those friends once asked me to sum up the qualities needed for life in the SAS.
I would say that what matters is the following: to be self-motivated and resilient; to be calm, yet have the ability to smile when it is grim. To be unflappable, able to react fast, and to have an ‘improvise-adapt-and-overcome’ mentality.
Oh, and good tunnel vision when it comes to crunch time.
Looking forward, these are also many of the same qualities that I have relied on so heavily in subsequent adventures, from big expeditions like Everest to filming the likes of Escape to the Legion, Man vs. Wild, Worst-Case Scenario and Born Survivor: Bear Grylls.
It’s not rocket science; it’s just about showing heart in the big moments. I have always liked that.
But, and this was