Marking the 100-year anniversary of Mallory and Irvine’s disappearance on the 1924 Everest expedition at the Royal Geographical Society (RGS)
Image credit: Haus of Hiatus
With a few days in London, I decided to make a trip the Royal Geographical Society (RGS) to catch a special exhibition showcasing photographs from the ill-fated Everest expedition of 1924 where George Mallory and Andrew "Sandy" Irvine sadly disappeared.
Whilst having a huge interest in mountaineering and Everest, I didn’t know much about the early Everest expeditions not least the 1924 one.
The exhibition was hugely educational and opened my eyes to what set up the first successful summit of Everest in 1953, by Sir Edmund Hillary of New Zealand and Tenzing Norgay.
The 1924 expedition was the third attempt to reach the summit by the British. The expedition is particularly notable for the disappearance of climbers George Mallory and Andrew "Sandy" Irvine, who were last seen on June 8, 1924, making a final push toward the summit.
The expedition was led by General Charles Bruce and included several experienced climbers such as Edward Norton, Howard Somervell, and Noel Odell. They faced severe challenges, including harsh weather conditions, limited oxygen supplies, and the physical toll of high-altitude climbing.
From what I understand, Mallory and Irvine's attempt to reach the summit still remains shrouded in mystery.
They were spotted by Noel Odell through a break in the clouds, ascending a prominent rock step on the northeast ridge, now known as the Second Step. Odell’s sighting was the last confirmed sighting of the duo. Despite extensive searches, their bodies were not found during the expedition, and whether they reached the summit before they perished remains unknown.
The mystery of Mallory and Irvine's fate captured the imagination of the public and mountaineers alike. In 1999, a research team found Mallory's body at 26,760 feet (8,155 meters), but Irvine's body and the camera they carried, which might hold photographic evidence of their climb, have never been discovered. The 1924 expedition stands as a poignant chapter in the saga of Mount Everest, symbolising both the allure and peril of high-altitude exploration.
Definitely worth visiting if you’re in South Kensington in the coming months!
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A few days out from hitting the big 40 marker (this one definitely crept up on me), but sadly it’s overshadowed by the theft of my beloved Trek Marlin 7 mountain bike - my daily companion over the last 8 month of exploring Estonia’s epic nature, and getting me ready for my first bikepacking race, the Pane Pane Pane Kōkōva 800 in just 4 week’s time.
In 2016, I set my first world record when I successfully completed the London marathon carrying a 100-lb backpack, something that had never been done on record before (I suspect people have completed it before so I don’t think of myself as being the first to have ever done it).
The process was something I get asked about by adventurers after hearing my Tales of Adventure podcast, and so I decided to document the process for others who also want to enter the Guinness book of records.
To increase your chances of success of getting an expedition paid for (and to stop you wasting your precious free time), you should understand a little about the mechanics of how business works, and the sales and marketing functions of it, otherwise you’ll probably be wasting your time approaching people who don’t have the money to support you, don’t see the value in your project, or a combination of both.
As a millennial, we find ourselves caught between life chapters also: buying a property; starting a family; launching a business; concentrating on a career; or just jack them all in to go and climb mountains; live in a van or sail around the world.
The idea of big, wieldy goals seems great when you’re in your twenties but not hugely achievable as your responsibilities to family, career, or a mortgage mount up in your thirties and forties.
I understand the benefits of adventure, increased social mobility by widening your social circle and professional network, education, life skills, increased resilience – the list goes on. However, how can we access these huge opportunities knowing that we’re contributing to an unsustainable way of living.
Being independent and active is a large part of my identity and purpose.
Of all the injuries, the most complicated has been the compound fracture to my leg. Initially I had a couple of surgeries and rod inserted into it, pinning the shattered part together. This stabilised the leg, and after a month, I was starting to get back on my feet with the aid of a wheelchair. Being able to get out of bed was a real game changer: It meant I could go to the toilet, move around and not have to constantly rely on help from others. It meant being able to wash and brush my teeth instead of having a flannel bath in bed.
Ever since I almost died on the Matterhorn two years ago, my approach to physical risk has changed.
As a young man, I had an entirely different risk appetite to what I do now. High risk adventure sports – like mountaineering, climbing, racing mountain bikes down hills, skydiving and riding motorbikes were a regular part of my life before a big fall that also finished me.
Now, my appetite to take the same risks has been sated, but for how long – I don’t know for certain. I still dream of big mountains and that feeling of elation when you’re stood on a summit after months of planning and the hours spent plodding uphill.
When you’re so intensely focussed on your career or family, your attention to where you are in life can go unchecked. For some people, this lack of checking-in with yourself can last years or even decades. For others, they check in too often and it stops progression forward and upwards. I think this ‘analysis paralysis’ can be a cause of unhappiness for some.
Taking a sabbatical to row across an ocean, cycle across a country (or continent), or run across a desert, might seem like unhelpful to some, but I think it can be useful in ways we don’t really consider.
I’m lucky for many reasons: Not just because I’m surrounded by people who put their own lives on hold to limit the impact of my near-fatal fall, but also how things turned out for me since my life almost came to an abrupt end some 12 months ago.
We’ve had some difficult years making expeditions and personal goals happen recently. The pandemic, conflict, a shift in global politics, and cooling economy have conspired to increase the size and number of hurdles, however there are ways to mitigate them that you might not have thought of or be familiar with.
You may well have signed up to an ocean rowing race, to run the Marathon des Sables, or even to take on the mighty Everest – however with the current fiscal uncertainty, it’s hard to see how you can possibly fundraise if the outdoor and charity sector is struggling as we believe it might be.
One of the hardest things I experienced during my recovery from a mountaineering injury, was to be physically and spiritually supported by my partner, family and friends.
I was in a wheelchair when I first left hospital. My partner had to push me around when I wasn’t strong enough to go more than a few metres on the crutches. Whilst I had completed ultramarathons like the Marathon des Sables the previous year; my fitness had utterly deteriorated from the 3 months in a hospital bed – so I had to rely on her to help in almost all daily activities.
It is four months since the accident, and I’ve been out of hospital for a few weeks. Christmas would usually be spent driving hundreds of miles to the north to see my family however I choose not to struggle with the British rail service.
The effort it would take to get across London from the south coast (itself already experiencing difficulties from flooding) and then many more hours on the trains just seems beyond me at this stage – so my girlfriend and I settle for a quiet one at home watching Netflix and drinking too much tea.
It takes me many days to overcome the feeling that I’m letting people down, but I get reassured that I’m not.
I have been thinking a lot about time recently.
Somehow, I always perceived time as being linear. Everything having its own beginning and ending. Its own past, present and future.
But it was the evening of the accident when I felt the true meaning of time. I have heard it being described before, in books, in films, by other people with remarkable stories - that in certain moments in life, time can stop.
Stand still.
Cease to exist as it did before and change your life forever.
The night I received the message about the accident was the moment when life and time truly stood still. I can still remember some of it, how alien time felt. I remember my knees getting weak and shaky. The outside world disappearing. The truth is, it is a feeling like no other, one that I hope that you would never experience.
And yet, it was once of the rarest moments of my life when I felt time as raw as I ever have.
Late last year, I had a big fall whilst trying to climb the Matterhorn mountain – tumbling fifty metres which put me in coma for eight days and hospital for almost three months. After spending a week in a coma, I woke up with a traumatic brain injury. The Italian doctors had found three lesions (damage in the brain) which affected my short-term memory, speech and vision in one eye. At first I didn’t recognise my girlfriend, family or close friends whom had all flown to be with me throughout the coma. But as time went on, I started to become more like the person I was before – but some perspectives had changed.
It was undoubtedly the hardest period of my life, but these basic principles helped me to endure it and come out stronger.
In September 2019, my tiptoeing the tightrope between life and death went the wrong way. After trying to summit the Matterhorn mountain in Italy, I slipped and tumbled a long way down.
When I write this article, it doesn’t bring back terrible memories – they were wiped clean in the accident. But the pain comes from hearing your loved ones recounting when they were told that you’ll either die or spend the rest of your life with life-changing injuries or big personality changes; hit me harder than anything else I’ve dealt with in my entire life.
82 years old and completing an Ironman triathlon. That’s a 2.4-mile (3.8-km) swim, followed by a 112-mile (180-km) cycle, and finishing with a 26.2-mile (42.2-km) run. Just think about that for a second longer.
It’s stories like hers that motivate me to keep going when the journey ahead seems impossible to move forward.
In the next few years, I'll be aiming to complete the Silk Road Mountain race, a 1700-kilometre continuous bikepacking race in Kyrgyzstan, and one of my biggest personal challenges since a mountaineering accident in 2019 almost permanently stopped me from doing things I love altogether.
There are the 7 principles that I use to fit training to previous adventures that I’ll use to get myself to the finishing line.
As a young soldier getting ready to deploy to some challenging environments, I found the concept of ‘situational awareness’ challenging to grasp. I remember coming away with a feeling that it was in part, guesswork combined with Spiderman’s spider-sense ability and a touch of clairvoyance.
But it has now become my most effective skill in managing my safety when I’m travelling alone overseas.
At some point in our lives, we decide that what we are doing as a job or career at the moment, isn’t the best for us in the future.
In 2015, after some 12 years in the military – itself a spur of the moment decision that I made when I saw how much friends were really thriving in it - I decided that I should try something new to support causes that I’m passionate about. I’d reached a waypoint in my career, although not achieved the things I’d wanted to – but realised that I had stalled and momentum in a new direction would help me regain the initiative.
This article came about as I regularly get asked by friends leaving the military, how transition works from someone who’s undergone many of them and how it can be more successful.
This is a simplified version of how I transferred from the Royal Marines into the BBC, an international media charity, going freelance, and then starting my own creative agency (Haus of Hiatus).
During the lockdowns, I wanted to start planning endeavours for when they’d completely ended, so I compiled (and in some cases designed) a bunch of UK-based physical challenges that can be completed according to difficulty.
I started off with 5 ideas that soon sprouted and turned into 5 more – so I allocated them a difficulty rating along the lines of medal you’d get for completing them.
Popular media is full of people who are showing how healthy and able they are in their sixties, seventies and eighties these days. By example, just look at Ranulph Fiennes who at the age of 65 summitted Mount Everest, or Rosie Swale-Pope who ran around the world, starting at age 58!
In her article, ‘It’s Hard to Be What You Can’t See’, Marian Wright Edelman asserts that kids need to be exposed to a wide range of writing that reflect the true diversity of the way the world really is.
This perspective is useful to help explain why some veterans don’t venture far from employment that they know as a result of their service – and possibly why some organisations that have low numbers of veterans, may come to unfair assumptions of someone who has served in the military.
My search for Emergency Medical Technician (EMT) providers started with the Australasian registry of EMT (AREMT) - this is one of the better-known registries that are able to validate your skills and quantify your knowledge. This led me to PPA - a medical training provider based in Denmark, led by Nick, a former close protection Team Leader with a hugely impressive CV of medical experience (which was bought out during the course in vignettes to add real life relevance to the learning).
Around 4 months ago, I decided to join the freelance community. I wanted control of everything in my life.
Earlier this year, I had decided to leave a career in the military and start a new path in a London-based global media organisation. Life was simple – you just turn up, do your job, don’t rock the boat too much, go home, get paid, buy nice things. It’s that straightforward. But simple isn’t always the best and by now, I’d had enough of my life being defined by a safe career path that led to an unknown horizon.
Naturally, It got me thinking about becoming a good leader in my chosen field. Not just an effective leader - that implies you're good effectuating other’s judgements even when you don't necessarily believe in it. A good leader knows how and when to push back. And so I realised the artist and the scientist metaphor of duality:
About the Author:
Chris is the founder of Hiatus.Design, a mission-driven branding and website design company that works with clients all over the world.
Over the course of his life, he has travelled to more than 60 countries across six continents, earned two Guinness World Records, completed the legendary Marathon des Sables, summited Mont Blanc and unclimbed peaks in Asia, become a Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society (FRGS), rowed across the Atlantic Ocean and obtained a Masterʼs degree in Business Management (MA).

As millennials that grew up in the internet age, we’ve faced challenges that our parents and previous generations haven’t had to deal with. This requires a different outlook to those in the past, simply ‘getting on with it’ is no longer good enough.
We’re the most globally-connected generation and therefore, more exposed to what’s going on in the world – which includes the bad parts. To stop ourselves being overcome with anxiety and panic, it’s important to maintain a healthy balance of work and ‘play’ – that doesn’t focus on drinking alcohol or spending vast amounts of money.