Nick Allen | Brand Ambassador

Nick Allen | Brand Ambassador

Nick Allen is a Christchurch-based writer and climber. He is passionate about experiencing and capturing moments of beauty in familiar and out-of-the-way landscapes, all to inspire others to get outdoors.

Diagnosed with neurological disease as a young adult, Nick thought his climbing dreams were over. However, with specialist rehabilitation and lifestyle modification, Nick manages the limitations of his condition and has climbed in the Himalayas, Australia and throughout New Zealand.

Nick also runs Mastering Mountains Charitable Trust, which helps others with neurological conditions get outdoors. The Trust offers grants and mentoring to people with functional neurological disorder and multiple sclerosis to get the rehabilitation help they need to achieve their adventure dreams.

Read on for more of his story.

Nick’s story

It was early 2014, I was in my late 20s, and I had purchased my first ice axe: a Black Diamond Raven. I felt a knot in my stomach as I shifted uneasily in the seat of my car on the way home with my purchase. I desperately wanted to use this axe. But could I? I asked the same question when I purchased my first pair of SCARPA tramping boots two years earlier. Given the circumstances, this was an appropriate question to ask.

I’ve wanted to climb mountains for as long as I can remember. I vividly remember the moment I first witnessed (what I assumed to be) an endless expanse of snow, ice plateau and mountain sitting on the horizon. I wanted nothing more than to explore that limitless wilderness, survey it from a peak and bathe in the unclouded sun. It was the birth of a dream, and I knew this was what I wanted to do with my life.

“One day, I am going to climb all those mountains, Mum”, I announced triumphantly, pointing at the horizon from the comfort of my car seat.   

“Sorry darling, but they’re not mountains, just clouds sitting on the horizon”, Mum replied. I was very disappointed.

 Nevertheless, a dream was born at that moment. Not long after, I learned of a true mountain range that was just as breathtakingly expansive: the Himalayas. I was hooked. That’s where I was going to climb one day.

Nick Allen on his 7th birthday at the Pinnacles in the Coromandel

As a kid (back before the internet existed), I collected seasonal product catalogues from my favourite outdoor brands. I was a budding gear nerd. More than that, I loved the photos of Himalayan and Antarctic mountaineering expeditions. The images offered me a glimpse into a life spent exploring: moments of breath-taking beauty, profound struggle and intoxicating joy. I wanted to experience it all.

Amongst those photos, Scarpa boots were a visual refrain in the images captured from the planet’s peaks. It seemed that any mountaineer worth their salt owned a pair of Scarpa boots. For me, Scarpa was a brand that epitomised the spirit of exploration I wished to embody.

Nick with his father and brothers

Turning 21, I had a plan and a timeline, actively charting a path to the Himalayas. I was very fit and enrolled in a high alpine skills course to learn the skills I needed to take my climbing beyond tramping, snow plodding and rock climbing. It felt like it wouldn’t be long until I surveyed the peaks and bathed in the Himalayan sun’s full brightness.

However, in all my planning and pushing, I ignored the thick, grey clouds slowly building in the sky above me. Strange neurological symptoms were cropping up, and I tried hard to train the pain and weakness away.

A couple of months after my 21st birthday, and usually able to cycle hundreds of kilometres per week, I went to work one morning and came home feeling a bit off. Waking the next morning, I could barely climb a flight of stairs or shower myself. Weak, fatigued and often in pain, I found walking increasingly difficult.

By the age of 24, I was dependent on a mobility scooter to get around outside. Those years were dark and aimless.

Shortly after my 26th birthday, I was formally diagnosed with multiple sclerosis (MS), a degenerative neurological condition. The neurologist told me I had a progressive form of MS and that there was nothing he could do for me. (This was eventually found to be a misdiagnosis.)

My condition would only become more debilitating, he said. I was unlikely to regain my ability to walk outdoors, much less climb. It seemed that my climbing dreams were over.

I made the difficult decision to sell my climbing gear, as I needed the money. I was devastated.

In time, I became connected to my local MS society. Through my connections there, I became aware of the growing medical evidence for the importance of lifestyle factors in MS and the possibility of regaining mobility. Others had managed to leave their wheelchairs and pursue their hobbies and sports.

For me, this was a shaft of light breaking through – after I had overcome my initial scepticism. Slowly, I developed the conviction that maybe the neurologist’s prognosis was not the only possible future: that I might be able to alter the course of my disease.

I became determined to walk and tramp again. But could I climb? That was yet to be seen, but the mobility scooter had to go, whatever the case.

Nick Allen in Tongariro National Park

Three years and hundreds of rehabilitation hours later, I nervously drove home with my Black Diamond ice axe. I felt the same way driving home with my boots two years earlier. My Scarpa tramping boots had enabled me to step back into tramping, faltering at first but surer at each turn.

Short hikes turned into longer, multi-day tramps, and I ventured deeper into the backcountry. Tongariro National Park and Mt Ruapehu were my favourite places to tramp. Each trip took me higher and further. Each step in confidence lifted my gaze, shifting it toward the peaks. An ice axe was necessary.

I got the ice axe home and hung it on the wall above my bed. It was a visual representation of my dream, a reminder to imagine the sun on the summit of Ruapehu on a cloudless day.

It felt scary to dream of climbing again. Maintaining good health while growing my physical capacity was an extremely fine line. Push too hard, and I could relapse and put myself in a wheelchair. Fail to push hard enough, and I would come close but never realise my dream, and that would be a terrifying type of torture.

Nick upon finally reaching the summit of Mt Ruapehu
Nick Allen on the summit of Imje Tse (Island Peak) in Nepal

That winter, I took snow craft courses to gain the skills I needed to move confidently through alpine terrain. I began acquiring the technical equipment I needed, mostly Black Diamond gear. I felt a growing sense of pride and confidence with each new piece. All the while, I was pressing upward and gaining experience.

In December 2014, I finally reached the top of Ruapehu. It was a cloudless day, and I spent time on the summit soaking in the sun. I felt like nothing could stop me.

 

A couple of months later, I decided to make a radical move. I was due to begin a PhD, but I decided to put it on hold and devote the year to work and training. My goal? A 6,000 metre peak in the Himalayas. I was determined to realise my lifelong dream.

 

Less than nine months later, on the 10th of October, 2015, I successfully summited Imje Tse (6,189m) in the Everest region of Nepal. My guide and I reached the summit early, and I could see for miles. The enormity of the landscape took my breath away.

From the summit, I watched the sun rise into a cloudless sky and gently light the mighty peaks around me. It was more than I had ever dreamed.

In retrospect, the most significant outcome of the trip was not the summit – as incredible as it was. Through the trip, I launched Mastering Mountains Charitable Trust to enable others with neurological conditions to achieve their adventure dreams. I raised roughly $10,000 to seed the Trust’s grant fund so that we could begin paying people’s rehabilitation costs. I could not have returned to climbing without the help of my community, and I wanted to extend that support to others so that they could experience the joy of attaining a goal.

These days, it’s my life’s purpose and passion, and I don’t know what I would do without it.

The next couple of years were intense. I wrote a book, resumed study for a while, started a new job, got married, moved to Christchurch and did a lot of work on Mastering Mountains.

It was a lot, and those grey clouds started rolling across the sky once again. I started having new neurological symptoms, atypical for MS. As I had done before, I tried to ignore them and kept pushing. I focused on rock climbing, a highly accessible pursuit in Christchurch’s Port Hills.

Nick Allen Allie Rood and Mark Heighton on Grey Ghost Crag on Stewart Island

In early 2019, I led a small team to explore the largely unclimbed granite faces of the Ruggedy Mountains on Stewart Island. I had no idea that Stewart Island was so beautiful: the diversity of bush and the richness of birdsong. The terrain, however, lived up to its name: it was rugged, and we often struggled.

Donning my faithful old Scarpa boots, it felt like a proper adventure, and I was proud to have Black Diamond as a sponsor for the trip. (Click here to watch a video about the trip.)

Our team put up ten new routes, and I will never forget the joy of sitting on top of our rock spire and eating dinner as we watched the sunset in a blaze of colour.

Later that year, I experienced a series of significant health setbacks. I struggled with increasingly severe chronic pain in the months after the trip. My GP put me on a high dose of medication to give me some relief. A few days after starting the medication, I went out for a 5k run and returned feeling slightly strange. Within two hours, I quickly declined, and my wife rushed me to hospital to see a neurologist. I had reacted to the medication, triggering a massive relapse.

In a few short hours, I had lost years of upward progress. In the months following, I required crutches to walk outside, and I was plagued by debilitating fatigue and chronic pain. This was another time of darkness.

In assessing this relapse, my medical team determined that I had been misdiagnosed and had functional neurological disorder (FND) and fibromyalgia.

FND is a strikingly under-researched and poorly understood neurological condition that is frequently misdiagnosed as MS. Like MS, FND causes the signals between the brain and body to become distorted. Unlike MS, this distortion occurs for unknown reasons.

Since then, I have been on a lengthy rehabilitation process, and I am only now able to get back into rock climbing and tramping.

Clouds continue to come and go, and I am becoming more skilled at accepting them as a part of my life, not as something to be ignored. My steps still falter sometimes, but I get more confident at each turn and continue to build strength and stamina.

In the last two years, I’ve often wondered if I could or would climb again. My Black Diamond ice axes (I now have a few) hang close to my desk and continue to remind me to dream. As I write this, I am confident I will need them again soon.

Follow Nick on social: