Sometimes the upgrade is not newer, shinier or faster

Three years ago this week we swapped my very nice 4x4, with all the bells and whistles, for a pre-loved VW campervan called Nelly.

At the time, it felt slightly mad.

Less comfort. More unpredictability. A vehicle that rattles, leaks occasionally and asks for patience instead of polish.

What we didn’t realise then was that we weren’t buying a van. We were changing the shape and texture of our lives.

Since Nelly arrived, travel has become something we do together, not something we recover from.

As a family we’ve wandered far and wide. The Alps. Bodyboarding in the south of France. Our yearly pilgrimages to Cornwall. Wales in all weathers. The NC500 through the Highlands, long roads and bigger skies than any of us were used to.

The memories are layered and physical, full of sand, wind, tired legs and laughter that comes from shared effort.

We also made a quiet promise early on. Each year, Ant Ackers and I would take the kids away one-to-one, just us and them, for a proper adventure. No rush. No distraction. Just time, attention and space to really see each other.

Those trips have become some of the most grounding, connective experiences of our family life.

It has been just as transformative for our work.

Ant and I have our business strategy days in the van. We hike first, let the noise fall away, then sit at the little table capturing what actually matters. Clarity arrives differently when you’ve walked it out of your body.

I meet clients for Trailblazer Days in the van too. We hike. We swim. We talk properly. Then the kettle goes on, the stove warms the space, and we capture actions and decisions while everyone feels steady, safe and replete.

It is amazing what people can access when their nervous system has softened.

And for me, it has meant freedom.

As a female leader, the van has given me a way to adventure bravely and safely.

I can pack up, disappear into the wild, hunt out waterfalls, and reconnect with my courage and vision without needing to negotiate that choice.

I sleep nestled in the van, journal with coffee in the early light, and watch the sun come up over the mountains.

Those mornings have shaped who I am far more than any boardroom ever could.

Nothing about our lives has become smaller because of this choice.

Not our ambition.

Not our work.

Not our sense of what is possible.

If anything, everything has sharpened. We are clearer about what matters and braver about protecting it.

Three years on, I am quietly certain of this.

Sometimes the upgrade is not newer, shinier or faster. Sometimes it is choosing a life that gives you back your breath, your presence and your courage.

This ethos is core as we continue to build WildEdge Worx together.

Nelly still rattles. We still adore her.

And I would make the same choice again, every single time.