Amelia Fryer

21st January 2025

Fears and self-doubt are things that every person faces on a daily basis. From kids trying to fit in on the playground, to teenagers trying to fit into made up beauty standards and ever so time-fitting trends, to adults wondering if they’re doing everything right: everybody faces it. This is no different for me, and since starting my university career in September 2024 I’ve learned a lot about myself and coping with these fears, while also trying to figure out who I am and function as an adult.

My transition up to university was an unexpectedly difficult one, but since joining USMC in September 2024 I’ve found the thing that I felt was missing, and the thing that filled the gap that leaving home left. No one tells you about the everyday things that seem so simple but become a real struggle when you’re on your own, eating, sleeping and managing time became somewhat difficult. Overwhelmed with more coursework than expected, emotions through the roof, homesickness like I didn’t know what, and entirely new surroundings and people to adapt to – I felt as though I was entirely in over my head and not cut out for university life. However since like all humans beings I have somewhat of an ego and something to prove (to myself and everyone I know) I was determined to prove that I had what it took.

Joining the USMC has been one of the best decisions I’ve made for myself since moving away from home; the confidence and tenacity it has taken both to myself to continue on and learn essentially a whole new world from scratch has been something else. From worrying my parents even more than they already were, with their only child going from moving out to another city to going up literal mountains with (at the start) not a clue in the world what she was doing; in hindsight I probably could have eased them into me being an adult in a nicer smoother way, but I live on adrenaline, sorry mum and dad – to worrying myself at times when beginning a hill day thinking ‘what on earth are you thinking Amelia, this is a terrible idea, you’re not cut out for this, you’ve never stuck at anything in your life and you thought an extreme sport was a good idea’.

It’s true, there’s nothing other than training horses that I was able to stick at and truly pour my blood sweat and tears into, wanting to get better and do more; I’ve tried every hobby under the sun: guitar, piano, violin, swimming, boxing, archery, football, rugby, basketball, figure skating (that went well for my uncoordinated self), drawing, painting, three types of dancing and probably a few more – somehow mountaineering has been the only thing that I’ve had the unforced urge to pour my heart into, that even when I’ve doubted myself or thought I wasn’t built for it, I wanted to keep doing it with everything I had.

The skills I have learned in the sport have certainly evolved me as a person. I’ve learned patience and how to better adapt to things in a short space of time as making last-minute decisions has never been something I’m any good at: I like a fixed plan that doesn’t have the chance to change, I always have, however this is hardly ever the case in real life, and certainly not the case in mountaineering. The mental balance and emotional stability I get from my time thinking about life while in the hills will always be the facet of mountaineering that means the most to me, and it will always matter more to me that I am proud of myself after the hikes rather than how fast I do them.

I was under the impression, for longer than I’d like to admit, that I was slow in terms of hill walking and that this was a bad thing. It’s no word of a lie that my pace is significantly slower than that of my friends and certainly more so than that of the more experienced members of the club, however my brain had it straight that this was a negative thing and that it was hindering to those out on the hill with me, when actually – I’ve found there are arguably more benefits to being the slower walker. Yes, I won’t deny that it gets lonely from time to time; watching my friends find the same thing as me so significantly easier and feeling like I’m hindering the group or making things irritating for the others by slowing them down or making them wait. However, it took a certain kind of mentality and experiences both within hillwalking itself and in my own personal life to realise that actually these things were not true, and that I have every right to be on the mountain and in the club as anyone else. Who cares if my journey started in September and if I take longer to get up a mountain? The point is it started, and I won’t be backing down any time soon.

The USMC has placed a plethora of incredible opportunities in front of me that I have held onto with both hands, one of these incredible opportunities was the biggest trip of the year in the club: Wintermeet. I wasn’t convinced that I was skilled enough with my summer hillwalking never mind learning how to use an ice axe and crampons and going up a large steep mountain in knee-deep snow for 8+ hours a day. When I heard that our president was happy to have me on not only the trip, but on one of the two limited spaced winter skills days I was incredibly surprised and grateful, I wanted to have the skills to go out in winter to see the beauty that Scotland has to offer all year round and appreciated being able to do it as I was able to do the guide day cheaper since I was doing it through the club.

Though the guided winter skills day was incredibly arduous and strenuous, it was outstandingly rewarding; I gained more to the skills I already had and gained new skills in new areas and also summitted my 5^th Munro (Carn Liath), this I am proud of. However, this was only the first of eight long and difficult days of the trip. I was surrounded by people who were far fitter and more experienced than I was, and it wasn’t long before that feeling of being outclassed and unbelonging began to creep back in that I faced when I first joined. I knew that I would have to take more rest days than everyone else; my original plan was to do four hill days and have three rest days, however this did not work out the way I wanted to as I ended up only doing two hill days (the other being Beinn Na Lap in Corrour) and leaving a day early as I ended up being sick.

When it came to be the final day that I could have done a hill day, there wasn’t anyone on the trip I could have gone with. Plans were made, none were adapted and I was left alone. I had no energy to debate, I had skipped out on valuable time I could have spent with my family and my best friend: my horse whom I have now lost. The trip had certainly left me feeling more defeated than triumphant as I know for a fact I put more into it than what I got out of it. I am extremely grateful for the opportunity and I learned a lot from the trip, however I felt like I would never be able to go on another hike with anyone without feeling like an annoyance for my pace and lack of experience, and ultimately it significantly knocked my confidence.

After losing my horse I lost my drive for mountaineering, I felt as though I had dishonoured her in some way as I had spent a great deal of time on mountaineering and with the club that I could have spent with her before she passed away for me to (in my eyes at the time) have gotten absolutely nowhere in my journey to progress – I felt as though I had gone backwards, certainly at least not forwards. I stopped doing anything to do with the sport or the club other than the weekly committee/meetings for just over two months. I felt as though me joining the club was a mistake, and that there was no place for me in a club and sport where I had forced myself into somewhere I didn’t belong – in my head I had wasted valuable time, and made a fool of myself in the process.

Loving a sport in the way I have come to love mountaineering is strange to me – I understand loving a person or an animal to such an extent but there has never necessarily been an activity that I have wanted to genuinely fight for. It’s like even when I try and let go of it pulls me back to do more, there is nothing about me that should make me fit to do it; I have genetically bad knees, no coordination, no patience, a rather questionable ability to adapt to change, and I’ve never been particularly sporty, the only thing that sort of makes sense is my tenacity (or stubbornness, whatever you want to call it) to not back down, especially when people think I can’t do something.

After two months of feeling defeated, I woke up one day sick of feeling sorry for myself and decided I wanted to get back on the hill. For me, realising that just because you’re part of a club and a large community, that doesn’t mean that you have to want to be with all of those people to do what you want to do. I have always done better and operated on a few close friends all from different backgrounds and with different interests – it was just the same in this case.

In the last couple of months I have progressed further than I thought I ever could have since joining the club, and especially since my hiccup after Wintermeet. I have now officially completed 11 Munros (with far more to come). I summitted Ben Lomond as my seventh Munro, which was the least stressful and most enjoyable hill day I’ve done to date. I then went on and did three Munros in one day of Beinn Ghlas, Ben Lawers, and Meall Corranaich to mark my first ten Munros – this warranted a small dance at the top as I was excited to be back in the game. I have also since done my first ever wild camp after reaching the summit Beinn Dearg near Blair Atholl (facing my fears of the dark on that one).

Joining USMC has been one of the best decisions I’ve ever made for myself, though I’ve had moments of fear and of self-doubt both in starting the sport and in my personal life, I like to think I’ve come out the other side ready to take on new challenges, and I’m excited to stay in the club and stay on committee next year. Trying to remember to really live while also just learning how to survive on your own is difficult, things can cloud our judgement and we can so easily lose the ability to think straight, but for me, knowing I have people in my corner who are willing to help me if and stand by my side even when things get difficult, and knowing that I have the confidence and strength (again, could be construed as stubbornness) to keep myself afloat is what makes everything worth it. This year has been a challenging one, but I’m excited for what other adventures (outdoors and otherwise) I’ll face, and what new things life will throw at me, and I now know to grab onto with both hands and not back down.

Featured image credit: taken by Amelia Fryer on Càrn Liath (Creag Meagaidh).

Article first published on ‘Brig Newspaper’.