"Climbing saved my life" BMC Access Rep Iain Peters on surviving sexual abuse

BMC Atlantic Coast Access Rep, guidebook writer and life-long climber, Iain Peters, is well-known for his incredible volunteer work for the BMC, including successes like negotiating access at climbing cliffs like Carn Gowla, Cornwall, sharing his six favourite climbs in the area and attending Mend Our Mountains events on behalf of the BMC, like the recent opening of Great Bradley Bridge in Exmoor.

However, he has more recently been bravely speaking out about his experience of childhood sexual abuse, at events like the Mountain Medicine Weekend, this May in Hathersage. His latest book, The Corridor, chronicles his life and his climbing, which includes how this trauma has affected him. We interviewed to Iain to find out more.

Main photo credit: Dave Hillebrandt

What is The Corridor about?

Firstly, I would like to emphasise that The Corridor is not just a dark narrative about a horrendous crime and its aftermath, but also of hope and healing. On one level the book is my memoir about my childhood and adult life up to when I became a father at the age of 40, which obviously includes a lot about my life as a climber, here in Britain and on the crags and sea cliffs, of Britain and as far away as the Cordillera Darwin of Tierra del Fuego and the unexplored islands off the Beagle Channel. It’s also my memories of our family life in Kenya and Devon, of my grandfather, the Admiral who was a remarkable man and first ascensionist of routes like the Devil’s Slide on Lundy, and how he introduced me to climbing on the Cornish granite, sea cliffs when I was very young.

However, the other part of my story is that I was sent to boarding school, aged 9, where I and many other children, were routinely sexually abused by the charismatic deputy headmaster, also a mountaineer. Despite the obvious connection that could have made me reject it, climbing, became the key to my survival of that trauma. The long-lasting legacy of rape is the shame and guilt that prevented me from telling anyone about the abuse for over 50 years, until the morning I walked into a police station and handed over a grubby piece of paper with a description of the crime inflicted on me.

Once I had finally ‘come out’ as a survivor of childhood rape, I was fortunately introduced to a counsellor who gave me an understanding of what had happened to me, how it had affected my later life and relationships. I was able to talk openly about many of the difficult situations I’d found myself in; working for mobsters, in a menage á trois, letting down my closest friends, always struggling with shame, inherently afraid that success would lead to power and power equated to the brutality I had experienced as a child. My best friend was also abused by the same teacher, and was driven to a lifetime of drugs and mental illness. In many ways, climbing saved my life and sanity. Later, the very painful and emotional process of therapy showed me the impact that rape has on any survivor, particularly children, but also enabled me to accept that inner peace and outward happiness was possible.

The book is a lot about climbing and mountains, about why mostly men abuse power with dreadful consequences, but ultimately about hope, both on a personal level and in the strong belief that we need to change our definitions and expectations of masculinity.

How did climbing save your life?

Climbing is like any activity that requires total absorption in helping to release one’s mind from turmoil and worries. I reckon I’m not alone in finding physical exertion a fantastic stress relief, so much so that it now forms a part of mental health therapy programmes. When I was younger I wasn’t aware that climbing was keeping me from going mad, but I now know was absolutely central to how I survived, even though on more than one occasion it almost caused me to lose my life. Ultimately, I have always experienced climbing as being life affirming.

Why did you write the book now?

Well, it’s a decade since I disclosed what had happened to me, but I started writing about it once the police investigation was underway to counter any frustration and doubt as to its outcome. Counselling also helped as I was able to transfer conversations and insights onto the page.

Waiving my anonymity and giving a lengthy interview on C4 News at the time my abuser was convicted and jailed in 2017 led to a huge amount of reaction on C4’s Facebook page, which got nearly 3 million views and thousands of comments, many from survivors who had struggled for years in silence with the same shame and guilt that I had experienced. In a way, it was their voices that encouraged me to write more as well as the positive feedback on some of the chapters I wrote early on. But to complete it was a long, often very difficult process.

How difficult was it to write?

At times very easy, losing myself in the experiences of a lifetime, the good as well as the bad, but at other times almost impossibly difficult due to recurring fears of success, the old life rafts of denial and disassociation and even doubt about the validity of the book itself.

Place and time often helped. Kind friends lent me a traditional crofter’s cottage on Berneray in the Outer Hebrides. I spent three weeks of a stormy, early spring alone on the island, writing, watching the seals and sea otters just beyond the doorstep and long walks on the machair [grassy plains] and beaches with only the waves and the oystercatchers for company.

Lockdown was good in one way, as we were living close to the South West Coast footpath between Bude and Clovelly, on my all-time favourite, Culm Coast. I was able to walk out to an isolated old stone hut at Marsland Mouth, renovated by the poet and playwright Ronald Duncan and now kept open by his daughter and family for walkers to stop awhile and enjoy the superb views. A few locals might pass by, suitably distanced of course, but solitude once again.

Finally, I have to say Ellen, my partner kept encouraging me -she called it nagging – but if she hadn’t, I doubt I would have ever finished it.

What do you hope The Corridor will achieve?

I hope the book will give insight into the emotional trauma that is the legacy of rape, that the guilt belongs with the abuser not the abused. I also want it to give hope to survivors, like me, and the benefits of counselling to come to terms with the trauma of abuse. Healing is not the right word as you never recover but I would like other survivors to know it is possible to find peace through therapy.

I hope the book will enable those who have not suffered rape or childhood sexual abuse will understand the impact on survivors and even join in the huge challenge to address the causes of these horrendous crimes that have blighted society for thousands of years.

What message does the book give to other survivors?

Often healing is mentioned as the best outcome for victims. My experience is that I will never be healed. The wound will always remain, but through counselling, sharing the pain, the support and love of friends and family, and the realisation that it is not me as victim who should carry the guilt and shame, I can live a fulfilled life. That is the message I would like to give.

It is a huge task that we face, when every day there are new revelations about the cover up of serious sexual assaults within the highest echelons of the Church, grooming gangs violating children in our cities, the dark web peopled by men behaving monstrously at their computers as well as the domestic and sexual abuse behind too many house doors.

If The Corridor can in some small way promote further debate and subsequent action, then I will feel a real sense of hope.

What message would you like to send out to the climbing community?

That our outdoor community calling out sexual violence has to be the first step in eradicating it.

I’ve found my voice and I am more than happy to use it to move from despair and futility towards a solution. That is my personal on sight, ground up challenge!

I would like to emphasise that it is not just a dark narrative about a horrendous crime and its aftermath, but also of hope and healing.

Book review: The Corridor

BMC President Dom Oughton says, “This isn’t your typical climbing autobiography, though it starts in that vein. Iain Peters looks back on his early years and shares that Harry Potter moment, familiar to all lifelong climbers, when they enter the magical world of climbing and discover their passion, their tribe, their identity. We’re taken on a journey from sparkling West Penwith granite, via the Alps, to the Greater Ranges, with personal growth, joy, jeopardy and tragedy along the way. We encounter characters, places and experiences, vividly captured with an authentic voice, full of colour, wry observation and humour. It’s a great story, the story of a life well-lived, and a worthy addition to the genre within our gloriously rich heritage of climbing literature.

But it isn’t THE story of The Corridor. Woven into these reflections is a much darker thread, originating with the sexual abuse the author suffered as a child. Peters reflects with brutal honesty on the scars he bears from this time, and on the impact on his psyche and life-choices. It is a very sombre canvas on which to paint a memoir, but the light shines out in even greater brilliance in contrast. In particular the vital role played by his immersion in the world of climbing as a focus and distraction stands out. Not just the activity but the landscapes, wild places and especially the community and friendships.

Like most climbing books, The Corridor is full of brave deeds and derring-do, but it is the courage to bring the full story out into the open, and set it down in print, which takes the breath away. The result is a compelling narrative of resilience and heroism, on and off the rock. It isn’t an easy read, but it is a rewarding one. For a climber, it is a vicarious celebration of all that we hold dear. Hopefully, to anyone who has suffered similar trauma, it is a beacon of hope, and an inspiration to move forward.

Further help

If you have been affected any of the issues in this article and please visit NAPAC. BMC safeguarding info is here and you can report concerns to safeguarding@thebmc.co.uk or complete the online form here.