For me, the hills and mountains are my sanctuary, a place to find happiness, to achieve, and to celebrate life. They are where I go when I can’t see clearly, when I feel lost, or when I need to reset. They are my escape, my salvation. They’ve seen me at my worst and at my best. The John Muir quote, “The mountains are calling and I must go,” sums it up perfectly. Out there, surrounded by wild beauty, I connect with nature and find a profound sense of peace and simplicity that fills me with contentment.
But in 2015, everything changed. At 43, I had a serious car accident that turned my world upside down. I was sitting in my parked car when I heard the screech of brakes and looked up to see a van hurtling towards me. In that surreal, slow-motion moment, everything was sharp and vivid, but the sounds were strangely muted, like being underwater. The impact was violent. My car was thrown against another, my body tossed from side to side, glass splintering around me. When the world finally stilled, I looked down and barely recognised the body wedged in the twisted metal.
A slow recovery
That moment marked the start of a long and painful recovery and, unexpectedly, an early menopause triggered by the trauma. My injuries were extensive: severe lateral whiplash, internal bleeding, inflamed organs, and a pelvis broken in 13 places. These injuries also exacerbated a previous injury, a broken back, from a paragliding accident a decade earlier. There is always a silver lining, the consultant told me my climbing-honed muscles had saved me from even worse damage and possibly saved my life.
Recovery was slow and, at times, excruciating. I went from being bedbound, to using a wheelchair, to taking those first tentative steps again. Patience has never been my strength (and being “a patient” even less so!), but I had a goal: to get back to the mountains. That focus drove me through the long months of rehab and physio, determined not to be a burden on my family and to reclaim my life outdoors.
Today, I feel incredibly lucky. Yes, I live with pain most days, but I am in the mountains, hiking and climbing. I also run NG Mountaineering, where I teach a range of courses including navigation, mountain skills, Mountain Training Walking Awards and first aid. One of my greatest joys is running Women’s Only courses, creating space for women to build confidence and thrive in the hills.
Celebrating survival
This year marked the 10-year anniversary of the accident, and I knew I wanted to celebrate, not just survival, but life itself. I also wanted to share that celebration with the incredible mountain women that I am proud to call friends, who have supported and inspired me over the past few years.
In August, I set out to walk the Offa’s Dyke Path, a 285km journey from Prestatyn in North Wales to Chepstow in South Wales, with over 9,000 metres of ascent. It was the height of summer, blisteringly hot, but along the way, these wonderful women joined me for sections of the walk. The hills rang with chatter, deep conversations, and raucous laughter. One extraordinary friend, Judith, a powerhouse who also volunteers with Avon & Somerset Search and Rescue, walked 10 of the 12 days with me, her quiet strength keeping me moving forward when the miles got tough.
The journey reminded me just how far I’ve come, but more importantly, it reminded me that we are capable of so much more than we think. It deepened my confidence, showed me the true power of companionship, and reaffirmed something I’ve always believed: when we lift each other up, there’s nothing we can’t achieve.
This guest blog was written by Lisa Newton Goverd. Lisa runs NG Mountaineering, where she teaches a range of courses including navigation, mountain skills, Mountain Training Walking Awards and first aid. To find out more about NG Mountaineering and Lisa’s journey, you can follow her on instagram (@ngmountaineering) and facebook (@Lisa Newton-Goverd)