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I was really, really wild in my early twenties and a bit self-destructive.

I've always had an interest in doing something that was outside my comfort zone; I had this thing about standing on the edge of the cliff and deciding to jump.

I think, as a young guy, I was always drawn to being in wild places. Climbing was a logical extension of that.

I climbed nine mountains because I love adventure, and I got addicted to that feeling and I never wanted to stop. I wanted to see what I could accomplish. I finally can say that I stood on top of the world.

When I was 23, I went to Alaska by myself into the glaciers of the coast range and climbed a mountain by myself. It was incredibly reckless, incredibly stupid. But I was lucky. And I survived, and I came back to tell my story.

Although I'm a retired teenager, I remember what it was like to be one. I could have sworn I was riding an emotional roller coaster most of the time. Looking back, I'm actually amazed that I survived. Barely.

I rode horses since I was a kid.

My mum used to ride, and when she was mucking out, I always wanted to sit on a horse. And if she took me off, I'd scream my head off.

My friends and I were wild and we liked to joy-ride.

I was at the pinnacle of my career one day and the next day I was put out to pasture. I felt like a race horse with a broken leg.