Three Cycle Adventures Of The Summer Part 3: Yn ôl i Cymru.

This is Dilly.

I got a message from her back in January after she saw an article I wrote.

In essence it said "You seem cool, let's hang out."

So while she cycled south through the UK from John o'Groats towards Lands End over the summer I joined her for three days from Manchester back into her homeland of Wales and down to Machynlleth.

She was back in the UK for the first time in three years ready to start her PHD and on a mission to see the country from a new angle. There was no stopping between landing in the UK and heading to John o'Groats so here is her enjoying her first visit back to Wales in quite a while.

A fun three days on the bikes practicing our Welsh, eating far too much sweet food and generally having a laugh with a new friend.

She insists these Super Noodles are really quite good but for someone who has done a lot of this traveling light and camping I've not yet had the urge to try them. Maybe next time.

Here's to more bike trips, long and short, soon.

Jacob

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Three Cycle Adventures Of The Summer Part 2: The Snowdonia loop you shouldn't do…yet.

A couple of years ago Tom, Hugo and myself cycled the Lakeland 200, it's a brilliant but tough bikepacking route around the lake district that pulls together the best rough riding of the area.

I thought that Snowdonia could do with its own version so I started plotting and planning and came up with a route.

In late August I once again gathered Tom and Hugo as well as our friends Will, Issy and Mike to test out what I had made.

The route took in a number of mountain passes, the Penmachno Trail, the Gwydyr Trail, the Ogwen Valley, the Llanberis slate mines and the summit of Snowdon itself.

We had planned an early ascent of Snowdon but as we didn't fancy getting hit by lightning we decided to move the start to the other side of the mountain and to finish up there instead.

We set off with rain showers coming and going but luckily no thunder and lightning to be seen. It stayed like that most of the weekend, just the odd shower here and there but generally good weather for wiggling around the mountains.

I thought the ride up and down Snowdon would be the crux of this route but after lunch on the first day we found the real crux. A forest trail where you could sink past your knees in mud and bog, though with no alternative route we smiled and tried to see how far we could cycle through each section. Sometimes you'd come to an immediate stop and sometimes you'd disappear quite deep but somehow reach the other side.

We were glad to get past that.

The rest was fun with good views and nice trails.

A highlight was of course the Ogwen, a treat every time you go and especially so when you go by bike.

After there we looped over the hill and down into Llanberis via the slate mines.

Then it was just Snowdon left to do.

I wasn't sure if leaving this to the end would be a good idea or not. But after fueling ourselves up we started the ride and push to the top no problem at all.

There were many a hike a bike in this route but they're just part of this silly game where we take our bikes to interesting places. In some weird way it's not enjoyable and so very enjoyable at the same time. It reminded me of the hours long push and carry of our bikes up and over Black Sail Pass during the ride that inspired this one.

Then once we were at the top it was just a wild wild almost 1000m of descent back to the bottom.

We had a good laugh as we always do on these trips but I'm not sure I can recommend this route to you just yet, I need to get back to the map and iron out the creases a little.

Jacob.

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Three Cycle Adventures Of The Summer Part 1: Landsker with Amity Customs

Matt owns a lovely little bike shop called Amity.

Charlie, Emrys and I met him there early one August morning.

They fuelled on coffee. We all faffed with our bikes.

Then we set off down the hill to start the ride.

I had put together a loop, 95km or so.

I think it was Matt's idea, to turn the Landsker Borderlands trail into a cycle route.

So that's what we did, following closely to the original trail but along little lanes and bridleways.

It was supposed to be a gravel bike ride but I do remember Matt remarking at one point "I don't know what you think gravel biking is, but it's not this."

But seeing as I was on a mountain bike and Emrys was on a road bike and I survived the roads and he survived the rocks and mud, I would say that averages out somewhere near a gravel bike ride.

Either way we were having a lot of fun.

A lot of fun eating pastries and pies.

A lot of fun flying down hills, on road and off.

It was nice to explore a little corner of the county I didn't know so well, to travel through places I've been before and see them in a different way.

We were tired as we neared being back at the bike shop but not too tired to give it some beans for the last mile or so. Flying down these little lanes whizzing past each other with huge smiles spread across our faces.

It was a good day, as days on bikes usually are.

Thanks Matt, Charlie and Emrys.

This route is coming as a fun little event with Amity sometime next year.

Jacob

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Inis Mór - An Island Climbing Adventure

There’s something about an island.

The way it’s contained, limited, surrounded maybe. Something about them sparks a glow in my brain.

It was pouring with rain as we walked into the booking office to buy our ferry tickets.

“Are we sure?” we asked again. I was excited to head over as soon as possible but the others understandably were sceptical and thought we should wait an extra day or two.

I talked them into it in my excitement and we headed to gather together the final bits we would need on the island. A couple of hours later we hauled our heavy bags of climbing and camping gear onto the boat and sat down inside still unsure if this was the right decision.

Up and down and up and down the boat went. We hadn’t even left the harbour so we knew it would be a rough one. As the boat pulled out we discovered it was a lot more wild than we thought. The four of us bounced high out of our seats, bounced again and again and grabbed tight to whatever was around us. It was quite the ride, feeling a lot more like a rollercoaster than a ferry.

After an hour and a half, stopping at the two other Aran Islands and feeling really quite sea sick we stepped wobbly legged onto Inis Mór. Our expectations were low but our optimism high for good weather and dry rock in the coming days. 

The journey to an island must have something to do with what makes them so special to me, this certainly wouldn’t have been the same had it been all flat and calm. 

I had met Bert and Dan in Fontainebleau back in March where they had told me about this island off the West coast of Ireland, its crashing waves and high imposing sport climbing crag on the limestone cliffs overlooking the Atlantic. I was immediately sold on the adventure and doubly so when I saw the photos and said I’d certainly come across and join them there. Natalie also came across from Wales and Alex was another friend Bert had made on his climbing travels earlier in the year.

The morning after we arrived we walked to the crag confidently. Though this confidence didn’t last long when we found ourselves tucking behind one of the many stone walls to shelter from an incoming rain shower. 

The week started like that. Dodging rain showers and climbing between mini waterfalls. No matter, we made do, enjoying the spells it was dry and having a laugh anyway when it was not.

As the days went on it got drier and drier and better and better until it was warm, sunny and the sea looked inviting for a swim. The whole place was transformed. We went from slipping on wet green slime while belaying to sunbathing between climbs. Showers on cruxes disappeared, we stopped having to hide in caves and the sun gave us time to look back and enjoy the spectacular place we were in. Spirits were high, we cycled to natural sea swimming pools and enjoyed fiery sunsets. 

The final day was topped off with Nat, Bert and Alex getting to the top of their week’s projects. Before we said goodbye to this cliff and enjoyed a calm walk back to the campsite as the sun went down. We reminisced about the fun we’d had, laughed at how wet it was when we first arrived and remembered the crazy boat ride that got us out here.

There was a reason Bert had spoken so longingly of this place.

There’s something about an island.

I have made a small limited edition A6 photo zine from this adventure which you can get here. There are only 100 available. The support means a lot, I hope you enjoy. 

Jacob

The Zine - Details
A small photo zine of our adventure to sport climb on Inis Mór, a wild island off the West coast of Ireland.

• A6.

• 32 sides.

• All photos taken on film.

• Only 100 copies available.

• £3 standard price.

• £10 to help put more film in my camera.

There are 50 standard price copies and 50 at the supporter price. The supporter allows you to further help my work, put film in my camera and make more projects like this happen. When each type is gone, they are gone.

Bikepacking without a map

The idea was to get from Hugo’s house in the hills of Somerset to our friend Max’s new campsite somewhere south of Barnstaple. A simple trip except we decided to leave the map and GPS behind and see if our noses alone could get us there.

We didn’t know what we were going to discover, to be honest we barely knew where we were going. Hugo had a little, somewhat questionable, local knowledge for the start and Tom knew how to get to Max’s farm as long as we got to the river Taw. While I, the non local simply knew it was roughly West South West. So I set my compass in that direction and chose whichever path was closest.

That’s how we made most of our decisions on this trip, that and simply “this feels right”, “that looks cool” or “I think we should go this way”. If there was ever an option for dirt we had to take it and if we realised we were going the wrong way we had to carry on regardless and see where we ended up. It really does sound like a recipe for disaster, it sounds like we would end up on some terrible roads and stuck down dead end paths. But whatever our noses had caught the scent of was heading the right way down some brilliant trails.

We followed country lanes and whenever we could bridleways and off road paths. We passed through little villages and bumped into some friends of Hugo’s who pointed us back in the right direction. We felt free, there were no wrong decisions and every turn was a little exploration.

We left one village by a little lane called West Street, simply due to the ‘West” in the name. Through some luck this led us on to a bridleway and continued along the edge of some fields and through woodland before spitting us out next to a river and another bridleway that followed its path. That was 10km or so of off road we otherwise wouldn’t have known about.

I’ve no idea how far we cycled over these 24 hours or so. By the most efficient route it would have been about 70km but of course this wasn’t efficient at all. I’m sure we zig zagged all over the place and almost ran over our own tails once or twice, though if a place is nice you may as well see it from every angle.

Having no map forced us to speak to a lot of people we otherwise wouldn’t have spoken to and go places we otherwise would never have gone. Not all paths were perfect, but every path and track and road was exciting, intriguing and totally not how it is when you know what is next.

We stopped at a pub in Dulverton for dinner then took the local’s recommendation of a bivvi under the trees in the park. It was a good spot with a thick canopy of leaves that held off most of the rain that fell in the night. Tom and I slept well, Hugo on the other hand forgot his bivvi bag and had a somewhat less pleasant and dry night.

In the morning we continued, fuelled by pastries from the village shop. We followed more lanes, tracks and the wisdom of the compass. We found water from a hose pipe and took a passer-by’s recommendation on a ‘good cafe’.

At some point around lunchtime Tom realised he knew where we were, this was South Molton, the last town before we reached Max’s farm. So we grabbed some food for the BBQ and rolled on down the hill to the river Taw. Then just one hill back out of the valley and we got to where we wanted to be.

This little wild idea somehow worked out, somehow didn’t end in disaster but as we expected was a great little adventure.

Jacob

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Fontainebleau - A Forest With A Story.

“Go to the mountains” I was told, but there was a reason I didn’t listen and went to a forest far from the nearest mountain instead. Fontainebleau is a circus of like minded people enjoying a simple life, some come for just a day or two, some for a week and some stay for the whole season. It all depends on how much time they can find, maybe just a day trip from Paris, maybe they can squeeze a week off work or for some this is a lifestyle they have created where they work for three months a year and travel about climbing for the rest.

Each person is different and like always that makes it interesting.

Picture a little ever changing village visiting the forest, made up from those who have come from every direction around. We all arrive not knowing who our neighbours will be but we know we’ll find them and they know they’ll find us. Everyone helps everyone, supporting them on their projects, fixing each other's vans, sometimes cooking together and always sharing tales of the day's successes and failures of an evening.

It must be a confusing view for anyone looking down from above. Honestly, it probably seems confusing to many other people in this world. Why would you go and live in a forest just to get up rocks in ways other than the easiest? You don’t get to see a spectacular view from the top, however there is something quite wonderful about how much of a point you can make out of something so pointless.

But does anything have a point anyway?

I’m not convinced.

So we may as well make our own.

We were all brought here by the rocks but without the people I’m sure we wouldn’t stay. Both the people who are there at the present and those who were there before us. Those who first imagined and invented the sport, those who first climbed the boulders and named them, those who painted the first circuits that have developed into what they are today. Those who did good to the forest and those who did bad.

These people defined the culture of bouldering in this forest, and the culture of this little corner of climbing as it has bled out further to the sport. I’m not sure if they knew at the time and I’m not sure if we know right now if what we are doing is defining the culture for the future or not.

The forest is not just a forest, it’s a forest with a story.

That’s why I didn’t go to the mountains.

Jacob

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Cold Nights In Fontainebleau

I woke in the morning to a thick layer of ice on the inside of my van where the condensation from my breath had frozen to any piece of bare metal it could find. We were still deep in the heart of winter at this point and without a heater to keep me warm I had been tucked up in bed for almost 12 hours.

I was feeling a little lost and not sure if I had made the right decision to be here at this time of year. I had messages from a friend telling me how nice and warm it was climbing in Spain. “Why did you come here?” I thought to myself as I pulled my thickest woolly socks over my feelingless toes.

I was in Fontainebleau, France. A huge forest just south of Paris that is home to the best bouldering in the world. Here is where the now hugely popular sport began and where it continues to grow and evolve. Once I had thawed myself out and the first rays of sunshine hit me I remembered that is why I was here, there is no other place in the world like it. No other place with the history or stature that has defined the sport and culture. Both complete beginners and the best in the world can climb here side by side. The rock is seemingly endless, there is enough for you to spend the rest of your life here without ever running out of things to climb.

I came with my climbing shoes and my camera to experience this place more, meet the people who spend their days living in the forest and see for myself why Fontainebleau is Fontainebleau.

This wasn’t an ‘epic’ adventure like last year’s, but I wanted to go somewhere and stay, stop, and be in one place for a little while. Throughout my cycle across Europe I saw a lot of places very briefly but didn’t get to know anywhere well. Here however, I stayed for almost three months. Getting to know the culture, the weather, the people and the best boulangeries. 

By the time I left the winter had gone, spring had passed and the summer was just getting started. It was an interesting three months that I’ll tell you more about soon, for now I need to dig through all these rolls of film I just got back and see what I can make with all the photos.

Jacob.

Podcast - More stories from the European Divide Trail.

I sat down with both Anna and Max who joined me on the cycle across Europe to record a couple of podcasts and share a few more stories from the three months of adventure. I am forever grateful to Max for joining at the start and for the friendship I made with Anna over the many many miles.

Max

Max was the only person I could find crazy enough to join me. He came with me to the start and stayed for the first three weeks, through Norway, Finland and into Sweden.

Anna

As we sat at the start of the trail in Grense Jakobselv we met Anna. She happened to be in the same place, at the same time doing the same trail. About half an hour later we started cycling south and about 3 months later Anna and I now great friends arrived in the opposite corner of Europe.

I made a photo book from the trip, if you would like to get a copy or support me you can get one here.

Strangers Make Great Friends - Photobook.

At the start of June 2022 I set off to bikepack the European Divide Trail. The plan was for my mate Max to join me for the first three weeks and then I would continue for the next two months alone. However, on the very first day as we sat on the coast of Norway we met another cyclist. Anna just happened to be in the same place, at the same time, riding the same trail.

Half an hour or so later the three of us pointed our bikes south and started cycling.

Three months or so later Anna and I arrived in the opposite corner of the continent, now friends.

Strangers Make Great Friends is a photo book telling the story of this adventure, the story of a friendship and the story of a moment in time.

Lessons From The Trail

I want to tell you about some notes in my notebook.
You see, over the summer as I cycled from one corner of Europe to the other,
I started this list.
I called it Lessons from the trail.

I noticed the first as I came into Gothenburg.
After a month of riding through the wilderness of Norway, Finland and Sweden.
I noticed something was different.
I noticed it when I couldn't fill my water from a river any more.
I noticed it when the people we passed stopped saying hello.
I noticed it when I had to lock my bike outside a shop.
Civilisation isn't civilised.

The next I don’t remember writing down.
But it helped.
Reading signposts can be useful.

The third. I remember noticing a lot.
When we stopped for lunch or camped for the night.
I noticed, there's something about a bench.
Well, it doesn’t have to be a bench but just something to lift you out the dirt. 

Things didn’t always go to plan on the trip.
They usually don’t.
The difference however when you’re in the middle of nowhere, is there is no buying your way out or calling for help.
There will be problems. The trail will teach you how to fix them.

I’m lucky to be here.
I’m lucky to be here.

The next one is obvious.
Bring a full roll of duct tape.

I remember before I went away I found a flat stone on a beach not far from where I live,
It had scratched into it, “You never regret a swim”.
I think that inspired the next one, which we ended up making a rule.
Never pass a good swim spot.

We met a guy called Steve on about the 4th or 5th day.
He would clean his bike thoroughly most evenings.
We weren't as disciplined as him, but we tried as often as we remembered.
It didn’t take much to make the bike run more smoothly.
So, lube your chain.

Some dating advice from one of the many chats on the trip.
You are a hot ticket.
Believe it.

The next seems obvious.
It seems easy.
But if you are cycling every day.
It can be hard to realise how much you actually have to do it.
Eat. Eat. Eat.

Finally, I want to tell you the most extraordinary story from the trip.
My friend Max joined me for the first 3 weeks,
after that I would continue alone.
I didn’t want to go alone but it's hard to find anyone else crazy enough to cycle across a continent.
However on the very first day as we sat eating lunch looking across the Arctic Ocean with Russia merely a couple of hundred meters away. Another cyclist turned up.
About half an hour later we started cycling south with this stranger.
About 3 months later I arrived in the opposite corner of Europe with one of my best friends.
Strangers Make Great Friends.

I have made a photobook from the trip. It tells the story of an adventure, a story of a friendships and a story of a moment in time. It launched last night around pizza with friends. You can get a copy here.

Jacob.

The Swedish River Crossing

About 40km into the day we reached this wide fairly fast flowing river. The route description had said there was a free ferry crossing. We could see the ferry sitting alone on the opposite bank and it certainly wasn't going anywhere soon.

There was nothing we could do but wait. So we sat in the sun and made some lunch, until a while later when we saw a person on a bike over the other side. We waved and shouted until we had their attention. She shouted back in Swedish but switched to perfect English when we unfortunately couldn't understand.

We should knock on the door of the red house and there is someone there who can help, she told us.

Confusingly all houses in Sweden seem to be red but eventually Max found the right one. He bound back excitedly that we finally had a way to cross the river with an old local man following a few minutes behind.

At this point we thought he would take the small boat across to fetch the ferry and take us across on that. But instead he gestures for two of us to get in the small boat.

So Max and I timidly got aboard and before we knew it he pushed the boat out into the river with the big wooden pole. Then over a few tense moments as we floated increasingly quickly down the river he tries and fails three times to start the engine before it finally spluttered into motion and took us across the river.

He brought Anna and Steve across to join us before leaving with a wave and heading back to finish the nap Max had accidentally woken him from.

Jacob.

This was one of my favourite moments from bikepacking the European Divide Trail over the summer. See more stories from me by joining my monthly(ish) newsletter.

See more from me by joining my monthly(ish) newsletter.

You Never Regret A Swim.

I woke up after a fairly good night in my little boat hut.

A pretty cool place to sleep on my own private beach.

Someone had built the little hut with an upturned boat stacked on some of the rocks collected from the beach.

I crawled out and noticed the sign I found the night before.

I'd propped it up at the door of the boat hut so I wouldn’t forget about it.

“You never regret a swim.” it said.

I couldn’t not get in then really.

So I searched out my towel from my backpack, walked down to the water's edge, stripped right off and jumped in.

Not too long later I was back out again and wrapped up in my towel but felt so good.

Thank you whoever wrote the little note.

You never regret a swim.

The day before I had set off from Poppit Sands to walk the coast path.

Just me.

No internet.

Dumb phone only.

A notebook in one pocket and a camera in the other.

I’ve walked parts of the Pembrokeshire Coast Path for years but never linked it all together.

So I thought I’d have a go.

In part optimistically hoping to do the whole thing but also just going as far as I go.

It was great.

Everywhere was familiar but I hadn’t explored all the ups and downs and ins and outs of the path before.

So it was also unfamiliar in a weird way.

I camped out wherever I got to that night.

Ate what I could carry.

And filled up with water where I could.

No distractions from the internet.

Just listening to the sound of the world.

Just watching the show in front of me.

After four days of walking there was a pain in my knee developing.

I umed and ahhed about whether I should carry on.

Feeling a little like I was failing as I had hoped to do a lot more.

But I eventually realised it was the best choice.

I’d only damage my knee further.

And I certainly hadn’t failed.

The days weren’t wasted so far from it.

I’ll be back for more another day.

Jacob.

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See more from me by joining my monthly(ish) newsletter.

The Best Rock In The World

We headed out in hope that it hadn’t snowed so much further up the valley.

In hope that some rock may still be dry.

In hope that it would be gone by the next day.

We trudged along through the snow, slid on hidden rocks and tried to avoid breaking any ankles.

There was a fresh eight inches of fluffy white powder dusted across the mountains, valleys and little villages.

Beautiful.

Perfect for a skier.

But we immediately knew we weren't going to find a dry piece of rock.

We were in Ticino, Switzerland.

Just north of the border from Italy.

Home to maybe the finest rock the world has to offer.

Honestly we didn’t think we’d climb for another couple of days at least.

And only if it didn’t snow again.

We were in luck, however.

The next day some friends let us know the valley they were in nearby hadn’t had a whole lot of snow.

We drove up there and discovered the last of the snow disappearing in front of our eyes.

The climbing could go on.

For the rest of the trip the weather was as good as it gets.

The next day we found ourselves in t-shirts laying by the river waiting for the sun to dip behind the mountains and the rock to cool off.

We toured the various areas and boulders.

Brione, Val Bavona, Chironico and Cresciano.

Visited classics.

And bumped into a good selection of the best climbers in the world.

Eliot and Solly were ticking off problems right up until after the sun had gone down on the last day.

We laughed.

We ate pizza.

We met good people.

Jacob.

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Home Is Where My People Are.

I grew up in a little village in the far west of Wales.

In the middle of nowhere.

I can ride my bike from the door and straight up into the hills.

It’s lovely.

But unfortunately the front door is a long way from other’s front doors.

I didn’t have that many friends as a kid.

I got my first real friends when I started climbing.

At that point the climbing wall became home.

I’d spend hours there.

Then as I got to know more people my home grew.

It grew to the mountains.

It grew to the trails.

To the crags.

To the beaches.

To the sea.

To laybys full of my favourite people living in their vans.

Home isn’t one place anymore.

It’s not really this little village in Wales.

My home moves.

It comes, it goes, it changes.

Home is where my people are.

This all really came true and grew a lot last year.

I met so many people and had the most amazing times with them.

It was a great year.

I have put all my favourite photos from this year of adventures with great people into a little photobook/zine.

There are a few available here.

You can pay however much you want and the money will help put film in my camera, chocolate brownies in my belly and make more projects happen in the future.

Thank you.

Jacob.

Talk To Strangers.

A couple of years back I wrote a little list.

It was kind of a list of ways to change the world.

My world at least.

It has seven points.

Point number three says “Talk to strangers.”

- Jacob.

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Big Questions

1. Who are you?

2. Who do you want to be?

3. What do you dislike about yourself?

4. What are your rules for life?

5. When did you last cry?

6. When are you happiest?

7. When are you least happy?

8. What are you truly scared of in life?

9. What could you do today that would matter a year from now?

10. What do you want to be when you grow up?

11. Who do you look up to in life?

12. How could we fix the problems of the world?

13. Who do you aspire to be?

14. What do you value most?

15. Do you want to say anything else?

I wrote these questions for my More Like Them pop-up podcast.

You can listen now on Apple Podcasts, Spotify or in your favourite podcast place.

More Like Them Podcast.

They are some of the kindest, brightest, most creative, thoughtful and interesting people I know.

They make me happy.

They inspire me.

They help me more than they realise.

They make me who I am.

They will make me better tomorrow.

If I could be more like them I’d be a better person.

If everyone could be more like them I’m sure the world would be a better place.

These people are my friends.

This past month I’ve sat down with some of them.

Microphone in hand.

Big questions in the mind.

I’ve made a little podcast.

A pop-up podcast.

The first episode is out now.

You can listen on Apple Podcasts, Spotify or look for More Like Them in your favourite podcast place.

I hope these chats are interesting or useful to you, like they were to me.

- Jacob.

Episode 1 - Tim Wilson

Climber. Van liver. Taker of photos. Musician. Adventurer.

See more from Tim here.

Episode 2 - Ella Sibbering

Surfer. Diver. Outdoor Instructor. Always go, always adventure.

See more from Ella here.

Episode 3 - Emrys Plant

Rider of bikes. Maker of things. Poet. Doer. And a whole bunch more.

See more from Emrys here.

Episode 4 - Jordan Wright

Designer. Surfer. Mum to the coolest kid around. A great adventurous human.

See more from Jordan here.

Episode 5 - Jade Anderson

Climber. Van adventurer. Great at big chats.

See more from Jade here.

Episode 6 - Max Higginson

Mad. Good mad. Rider of bikes. Helper of people. A man who makes things happen.

See more from Max here.

To keep up with the adventures and happenings here in the middle of nowhere please join my newsletter.

Perfect Isn’t Perfect.

Perfect isn't perfect.

Perfect things aren't the best.

And the best things aren't perfect.

Imperfections are necessary for perfection.

We need dirt.

We need scrapes.

We need bad days to make good days.

- Jacob.

For more stories like this from my adventures please join my newsletter.

I Hate The Sea.

I hate the sea.

It’s too cold.

It’s too scary.

It’s generally not a place I want to be.

That thought sat in my head for a while.

For years.

Keeping me on dry land.

Keeping me watching from the shores.

Keeping me safe.

But safe is not a good place to be.

So yeah.

Now I’m here.

Some friends dragged me in.

Threw me in what I thought was the deep end.

Ha, really it was fine.

No, it was more than fine.

It was amazing.

Of course it was cold.

Of course it was scary.

But not too cold and not too scary.

It was actually a place I could happily be.

Since then I’ve jumped in the sea, rivers and mountain lakes at every opportunity.

I’ve found a new world.

A new world, just a small step away from where I was.

- Jacob.

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Without You There Is No Me

This is to all my friends, old and new, present and future.

Dear my friends.

What would the world be without you?

Honestly, I don’t know...

You are the one thing I couldn’t live without.

The one thing needed to spark happiness.

And I’m pretty sure the only reason why I ever get out of bed in the morning.

Nothing scares me like the thought of not having you.

Like the thought of no one to laugh with.

Adventure with.

Or eat cake with.

I’m not always sure why with all these people to choose from, you choose to spend time with me.

But oh wow, I’m glad you do.

You make me who I am.

And you’ll make me better tomorrow.

Without you there is no me.

- Love, Jacob.

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