On Wednesday (Jan 20th 2016) my (younger) brothers and my dad made it to Base Camp, Mount Everest.
Let’s just let that sink in.
Base Camp. Mount Everest. 17,598 feet above sea level.
My parents used to climb mountains before my brothers and I were born (in their late twenties/early thirties), so we’ve always known that they’re pretty badass. In fact, my middle name (Brigitte) is because my parents did a few climbs with Brigitte Muir (the first woman to summit Everest and the first Australian to climb the 7 Summits).
In 2013 my dad spent around 5 months hiking New Zealand along a trail called Te Araroa which stretches the length of New Zealand, both North and South Island. Badass as fuck.
In April he flies to Norway (I’m pretty sure it’s Norway) to organise his food drops before he begins an 18 MONTH LONG hike from the north of Scandinavia down through Europe to the tip of Italy.
I know right. Wow.
So yeah, basically my family are fucking badasses whilst I’m sitting here eating Percy Pigs in my minion pjs contemplating which Topshop jeans to buy…
That is all.