Starfish Moments and Surrender: Lessons from the Ghyll

It was an unusually mild October afternoon when I pulled into the car park at Coniston, hesitant, nervous, and excited. For now, the sky was grey, but the rain wasn't falling. My hope for the day was to explore the power of nature and how stepping beyond our comfort zones can transform the body, mind, and soul.

Friday's Wild Stride networking event was all about challenging ourselves, reflecting on what challenge means, and, at the same time, connecting with each other in a way that might not happen in a typical networking environment. Church Beck did not disappoint; the heavy rain had swelled the water, and there was plenty of challenge and fun to be had!

After a short walk from the car park, Al from Path to Adventure gave us a safety briefing, emphasising the importance of working together to tackle the challenges ahead. After that, it was into the water. Even I initially hesitated, 'Go on, Ben, starfish,' shouted Al - and so I did, slipping back into the water and looking to the sky! Once my body was in the water, my nerves (for now) were gone, and I was feeling alive.

Nature played its part beautifully. The water, calm in places, offered small spaces to talk and reflect, bold and thundering in others. Tumbling waterfalls provided a chance to feel power more significant than ourselves - a humbling feeling that gives perspective and makes you feel alive. Trees canopied the whole stretch of ghyll in autumn shades of green, orange, and red - meaning there was a real treat to be had by lying on your back in the water and just looking up.

It was interesting to begin to share with each other, as we scrambled, the things that took us out of our usual routine, out of our comfort zone. For one of us, the water itself was the biggest challenge; for me, it felt safe, but heights made my heart race, and my fight or flight response told me to run! Interestingly, for the instructor, Al, being with a smaller group a little different from his usual participants meant a chance to get more involved with us and the scramble itself.

It was a powerful reminder that what pushes one person to their limits might be effortless for another. As a coach, it’s a valuable insight—what feels daunting and out of reach to me could be as simple as floating and watching autumn leaves drift above for someone else. It’s all about perspective and the unique nature of each person’s comfort zone.

Like Ray, from Climb High SEO, said, ‘For me, environments like this are like being in my playpen, but for others, it may seem very challenging. How long were we told not to go on those rocks because they're slippy? Well, here it's very much about getting on and across those rocks and judging for yourself, with the help of other group members, what's good and what's not.’

It was cathartic, too, to share my fears openly with the people around me and for them to ask, "What support do you want from us around jumping from heights?"

I read a poem called ‘The invitation’ by Oriah Mountain Dreamer around midway through. One verse really encapsulated how I felt that afternoon:

I want to know if you can be with joy,

mine or your own;

if you can dance with wildness

and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes

without cautioning us to

be careful,

be realistic,

to remember the limitations of being human.

Leaping off a rock and aiming straight for the swirling white foam at the waterfall's base felt like a true dance with wildness. But the real insight came in the heart of that powerful current—where to escape, I had to stop struggling and let the waterfall’s force carry me under. Surrendering to the power of the water was the only way through.

Overall, the day felt like an opportunity to live the values that Adnovar has at its core – mindful, liberating, curious, and light – a joyous afternoon of adventure play and lots of giggling! I was proud of what we achieved together, and it definitely delivered on the promise of networking, but different.  

In Ray’s words again, “For those who threw their hands up in horror at the thought of a dunking in an October gorge, you missed out.”

As we walked back to the car park, soaked and exhilarated, I hoped everyone left with more than just a memory of the water and laughter—I hoped they carried a sense of openness, of being willing to step into the unknown.

A huge thank you to those who joined me, and especially to Path to Adventure for making it possible.