My Peak XV

Every time someone asks for my story, or what on earth "My Peak XV" actually means, I cringe just a little. Not out of modesty, but because telling it means dragging myself back through the fire, back through the wreckage, and across every physical and mental battle it took to reach the ground I’m standing on today.

What you are reading here is just a prelude, a quick timeline carved out of a story that will eventually fill the pages of a book.

It starts in April 1988. I was working for Loganair at Glasgow Airport, with big dreams of rock stardom. I was playing drums, chasing record deals, and coming tantalisingly close before the band predictably fractured over the usual "artistic differences." Right on cue, Loganair bought a hot air balloon for marketing. My colleagues grumbled that the budget should have gone toward pay raises. I had less than zero interest in it.

When a coworker mentioned that the pilot, a chap named Simon Hepworth, needed crew, I reluctantly agreed to help out in Drymen, in the Trossachs. I fully expected a miserable day of lugging heavy kit across damp fields.

Then we inflated it.

I watched it rise into the still Scottish air, and for the first time, thought: Okay, that actually looks pretty cool. With virtually no wind that morning, Simon landed back in the same field and offered to take me up. The moment my feet left the earth, everything shifted. The silence, the views, the absolute magic of skimming the tree line, it hit me right in the chest. This wasn't just a hobby; it was me.

When Simon asked if I wanted to train as a pilot, I said yes without a second's hesitation.

We logged six flights together over the next few weeks. Then came an out-of-the-blue call to meet at the flying club. I walked in to find Simon sitting behind a stack of manuals. He slid them across the table and said, "It’s your balloon now. I’ve been told to clear my desk."

Just like that, I was thrown into the deep end. I found a new instructor, which ain't easy in Scotland, earned my private license, pushed through to my commercial rating, launched my own company, and eventually locked in flight contracts around the world. I was living the dream.

Until June 2014, when it all came ending with a crushing, metal-mangling thump.

My sons and I were hit head-on by another driver who crossed into our lane. The combined impact speed was 100 mph. In a fraction of a second, my life was shattered. The job waiting for me in Myanmar that October evaporated. Years blurred together in a haze of chronic pain, surgeries, and severe disability. My right arm was essentially useless, a dead weight below shoulder height.

Eight years passed. Then, in 2022, the unexpected happened: my arm began to move properly again. Range of motion returned. The fire reignited.

I messaged the owner of Virgin Balloon Flights and told him I thought I could fly. A job offer came back within five minutes. I turned it down three times out of sheer uncertainty before finally agreeing to a test flight in Telford.

I checked the burner, inflated the envelope, took off, and the years melted away. It was as if I’d never left the basket. After rigorous medical exams and psychological evaluations, I was officially cleared for flight. Fast forward through a grueling comeback, and I landed precisely where I had always dreamed of flying: in Kenya, piloting for Governors' Balloon Safaris over the Mara Triangle.

Which brings me back to My Peak XV.

When we are pushed to our absolute limits, whether by physical trauma, mental fatigue, or the quiet, agonizing battles no one else sees, we often describe the struggle as having a mountain to climb. We face steep climbs every day, but some mountains are taller, steeper, and far more brutal than others.

I faced plenty of them: learning to navigate a world that had suddenly changed, fighting through chronic pain, enduring the mental toll of losing my livelihood, and overcoming the deep-seated fear that my flying days were permanently behind me.

Before the world knew it as Mount Everest, survey maps simply called the planet's highest point Peak XV. It represents the ultimate height, the absolute maximum challenge a person can confront. My largest mountain - my personal Everest - was picking up the broken pieces of my life, fighting my way through the physical and mental wreckage, and stepping back into that balloon basket to fly again.

That massive, formidable summit was My Peak XV. This brief timeline barely scratches the surface, at some point, there will be a book, laying out the real, full, and unvarnished story of My Peak XV.

Thank you...

Graeme