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Mollie’s story
I’m on today. When I was 17, she encouraged me to go on a school trip to climb Mount Kenya. Other mothers may have hidden the letter, unwilling to send their daughter to Africa to climb a 5,000-metre-high mountain. But Mum always urged me to be curious and experience the world.
I grew up with my elder brother and younger sister on the south coast of Devon and life was very outdoorsy. We surfed, hiked and explored together and Mum always joined in, too.
At first, I was hesitant about the Kenya trip, mainly because of the cost. I knew there was no way Mum, who separated from my dad when I was 13, could afford the £1,600 bill. But she assured me that if I wanted to do it, we’d find a way to make it happen.
I spent five days scaling the mountain, experiencing climbing at altitude for the first time. It was tough, a world away from the hill hikes I’d done in the UK before, but exhilarating.
For the next four years, I’d save money from part-time jobs to fund summer climbing trips to the Himalayas, South America and Tanzania.
In 2012, when I was 21, I decided to climb the south face of Everest. I’d written my university dissertation about the psychology of climbing it, interviewing mountaineers who’d made it to the summit, and just had to experience it for myself.
It was so much more serious than anything I’d attempted before, and while I didn’t think Mum would try to talk me out of it, I was painfully aware there was no way of alleviating the worry she would inevitably feel.
Climbing Everest was tougher than I could have imagined, both physically and mentally. Walking across ladders over deep crevasses, fleeing an avalanche and running out of oxygen, it tested me in ways I’d never experienced before. Eleven people died there that year. One day, my team came across a smear of blood where the body of a Sherpa guide had been pulled out of a crevasse. That was a visceral reminder of the risks I was taking with my own life.
Five years later, I climbed the north side – becoming the youngest European woman to reach its peak from both sides. On both climbs I channelled Mum’s unflappable nature. Such qualities were essential to staying safe because when you’re in a storm halfway up a mountain, you simply can’t be overly emotional.
With every expedition my thirst for adventure has only deepened. In November 2019 I began my solo 702-mile trek to the South Pole – my greatest challenge to date.
I felt confident I could do it, but I also realised how tough it would be for Mum, knowing her child would be all alone with no team in a freezing wilderness for weeks on end.
Every time I was able to call her on my satellite phone, it would leave me feeling calm. Just hearing her voice gave me strength. But it was a balancing act between needing to offload what I’d been experiencing and wanting to protect her because there was nothing she could do to help me.
I was taught never to see being a woman as a barrier to anything. When I’m on a trip, my gender is irrelevant. It’s the same achievement when you reach a summit. However, women face a much greater struggle before an expedition begins. I’ve felt, many times, the perception that I’m less likely to achieve my goal, making it so much harder to secure sponsorship for trips that cost tens of thousands of pounds. It’s frustrating but Mum has always encouraged me to keep raising the profile of women in the mountaineering community, to dispel the myth that we’re not as capable.
After reaching the South Pole, my reunion with Mum was every bit as wonderful as I’d hoped – including having Christmas dinner because I’d missed it while I was away. It tasted so good after weeks of dehydrated food.
Mum has always recognised how psychologically hard my adventures are, and never adds to that by trying to dissuade me or burdening me with the anxieties she must feel. Her strength and stoicism free me to follow my dreams, and for that I am so grateful.
When Mollie was just 21 she called me from an expedition to the Himalayas to tell me one of her fellow climbers had died in a terrible accident. Hearing her voice shaking, all I wanted was to bring her home so I could wrap my arms around her. To be thousands of miles from your child when they’ve experienced something so deeply traumatic – and knowing she still had to get off the mountain safely – was agonising.
Waiting for her to fly home a few days later, the rest of the trip cancelled, I thought about the family whose child wasn’t coming back, the mother who had suffered such an unimaginable loss. My pain was nothing compared to hers, yet every time Mollie leaves for an adventure I know it could be me facing that grief next.
Every time I have to say goodbye, holding her at the airport, it’s impossible not to think, ‘Will this be the time she doesn’t come home?’ I have so much confidence in her abilities, but Mother Nature is so powerful and the terrains Mollie explores are lethal.
For the weeks before she leaves on one of her trips, I am caught up in the anticipation and it’s easy to be distracted from what she’s about to undertake. But as she walks away into Departures, while I try very hard to hold back my tears, I always fail. My pride and amazement in her can never extinguish my maternal worry.
Despite the sleepless nights, I’ve never wished for Mollie to be less adventurous. This is who she is, and she’s had the same zest for life and deep curiosity since she was a little girl. With her head of blonde curls, she crawled early, walked at 11 months, and all my memories are of her storming around having fun and trying to copy everything her elder brother did.
As a teenager she was very sporty and I wasn’t surprised when she became interested in mountaineering. However, when your daughter announces she’s going to climb Everest, or ski alone to the South Pole, that’s very different.
Inevitably, I feel conflicted between my pride in her courage and wanting her to have these incredible experiences, but also an instinctive desire to protect her from the very real dangers I know she’ll face.
It’s surreal when I’m pottering away in my garden in Devon and I know Mollie is battling the elements in parts of the world few people ever get to see.
Her motivation is an internal desire for adventure and to see the world, as well as to inspire other women. She doesn’t care about praise or external validation – that’s not why she does it.
She had no idea, when she reached the summit of Everest for a second time, that she’d set a new record. Someone had to tell her on the way down.
That’s so typically Mollie.
From a living room trapeze to thinking pink (a lot), the home of interiors blogger Emily Murray is full of playful ideas to steal. Here’s how…
3 Need iNspo? check out your closet
When you can’t decide on a decorating scheme, ‘consider what’s in your wardrobe’, suggests Emily. ‘I wanted my home to feel like a sanctuary, so feeling comfortable was key. If you’re at ease wearing something, you’ll probably be comfortable living with it. I turned to my wardrobe for ideas and mirrored what I saw in my home style.’ Emily’s wardrobe boasts a plethora of pink, so naturally the hero shade in her home is Pink House Pink (mylands.com). Meanwhile, her hallway is awash with many of the gelato tones she likes to wear, and the maximalist floor tiles, much like her favoured print T-shirts, add wow. The encaustic floor tiles are from ottotiles.co.uk
5 don’t rush to renovate
Emily firmly believes that a room – once you have the walls and flooring decided – should evolve gradually. ‘You need to live in a space to understand how it works,’ she says. For example, lighting can change the look of an area throughout the day, so will play a vital role in choosing where to position the home office or the sofa. Another case in point is former gymnast Emily’s trapeze in the living room, from firetoys.co.uk. ‘We have been living here for three years and have only just decided to have it installed here. Now that the kids are older, this is where we spend the most time as a family, so it made sense. Have patience,’ she adds, ‘and those eureka moments will come to you’