"Among my many adventures, none was as perilous as my time in Colombia. In an effort to secure safe passage through cartel-controlled territories, I found myself in a situation that tested my survival skills and determination to their limits. The negotiations with cartel chiefs were some of the tensest moments of my travels. Despite my best efforts, things took a chilling turn, and I was abandoned in the dense Colombian jungle. Alone, disoriented, and with danger lurking at every turn, I had to rely on my wits and survival instincts to navigate this unforgiving environment. This is the story of how I survived, and the lessons that ordeal taught me about resilience, resourcefulness, and the depths of human endurance."

Our Amazon expedition began with days of preparation in the sweltering town of Mitú, Colombia. Equipped with a modest dugout canoe and essential supplies, we set off, only to face an immediate disaster when our overloaded canoe capsized in the Rio Negro. This brush with death prompted us to enlist a Brazilian boat captain, but plans took a twist when we found ourselves abandoned in the remote community of Tainá. Surviving on minimal food, including worm-infested fish, we navigated rapids and encountered frequent checks by Brazilian soldiers. Awaiting the aid of a seasoned pastor from São Gabriel, we learned invaluable lessons in resilience and adaptability. Despite the hardships, the true essence of our Amazon adventure was just beginning.

As we ventured into the centre of the river, disaster struck. The canoe, far too small for our load, capsized almost immediately. In those frantic moments, as the river swallowed us, I experienced the closest brush with death I have ever had. Despite my previous life-threatening experiences, both in expeditions and otherwise, this was a matter of mere seconds. On returning to the UK, I have since made it a point to swim at every opportunity, a testament to how profoundly this incident affected me.

Embarking on a six-week expedition through the dense and untamed jungles of Colombia’s Vaupés region into Brazil’s vast Amazonas was a journey that tested my limits, reshaped my perceptions, and immersed me in the vibrant tapestry of local cultures and landscapes. Joined by a journalist for the initial five days, we meticulously documented our adventure, capturing the essence of this extraordinary experience.

In the world of adventure and exploration, there are journeys that push the boundaries of human endurance and curiosity. Today, we're diving into an extraordinary narrative of relentless ambition and the countdown to an unparalleled expedition. This expedition, following in the footsteps of challenging past journeys down the Essequibo River, across the Darien Gap, and through untouched regions of three South American nations, promises to eclipse them all in terms of its audacity and isolation.

You would think I would need a break from travel after my last expedition, but, it isn’t long before I find my feet itching and the desire to fly away calling me.
However, planning an expedition is not a simple case of sticking a pin in the map and away you go.
No, it takes time. In my case, planning an expedition takes up to two years of research.
Firstly, you have to be drawn to a particular location. For me, there is always a reason behind why I want to go to a certain country.
It could be an animal I would love to see in its natural habitat, or simply the culture of the location that draws me in, making me want to experience it for myself.

That saying ‘can’t wait to get home and have a cuppa’ is no lie.
Be it a freshly brewed cup of tea, catching your favourite tv show or climbing into your own bed, as much as we can’t wait to go away, coming home to our creature comforts is a feeling you truly can not beat.
But for me, there was something else, my comfort was in being able to say ‘I did it. I proved you wrong’

I felt sick, I felt overwhelmed, I felt relieved.
Is it really possible to have so many feelings hit you simultaneously?
The truth is ‘yes’

I came out unscathed from the deadfall, although I witnessed it happening only 10 metres away from me, so it was difficult to get any peaceful rest. Also, I took the time to assess the damage and found that skin was torn from my shoulders and hips, and my toenails were ripped out—the exposed nerve endings kept surging me with pain—especially when I was back on the move.
Whilst following the river, I started to feel lost, and no sight of any communities or people as my guide promised — I was not meant to take on this part of the journey alone.

I began to have muscle spasms in my legs to the point it became debilitating, where I had to just take a seat and sit with my anxious thoughts. My chest was also in pain and I believed I might have picked up some disease from the insects.

The guide and I had covered 15 miles of walking on our first day on foot in the Darién Gap. Still, we hoped to have covered more ground that day to reduce as much time spent in this hostile jungle as possible. The longer you stay, the faster you begin to break down, as though the wild slowly digests you.
We were no longer on fresh legs as we had been on day one. Now it all depended on willpower to push through on day two, where we made it into the most remote, mountainous and central region of the jungle between the start and end of this journey.