I can’t stop time, but I can do things that time can’t take away. I turn 50 next year, and one of the benefits of getting older is spending my time more wisely.

I climbed and subsequently skied down the 4,164m Breithorn mountain in Zermatt, Switzerland. The jewel in the Swiss Alpine crown, Zermatt sits at the foot of the Matterhorn, close to the Italian border, surrounded by stunning peaks. It’s magic.

I’ve wanted to climb the Breithorn for some time and decided to do it as part of my ‘50 before I’m 50’ challenge. Inspired by Benjamin Franklin, the US founding father, who said, “You may delay, but time will not,” I didn’t want to put it on the long finger.

Rather than buy a sports car and play golf, I decided on vertical goals before my 40s are up. I’ve always loved hiking, walking and being adventurous. Also, I wanted to climb some of the mountains I learnt off by heart from my prized atlas as a child. Back then, I was scared of sitting in the ‘gods’ at the panto. Times have changed.

According to my self-imposed rules, only summits over 800 metres count. They can be anywhere — Ireland, the Alps or beyond. This eliminates lots of my past work, like traverses along the Inca trail, South African cliffs, glacier treks, rock climbs, Alpine hikes or epic horseshoes. I can climb or hike up, and hike, ski or get a train or gondola down, should a gondola be available. In Ireland, most mountains are under 800 metres, so the likes of Errigal in Co Donegal or Ben Bulben in Co Sligo don’t count, but Lugnaquilla in Co Wicklow, at 917 metres, does. By my maths, I’m at around 21 peaks now and have 29 to go this year.

Unavoidable shortcuts are allowed too. At 1,600 meters above sea level, Zermatt already gave me a head start, for example. I met my guide Andre Lerjen from Zermatters guides (zermatter.ch) and headed up 2,000 metres by gondola to the Matterhorn Glacier Paradise past the Matterhorn, Switzerland’s iconic peak. You can ski there all year round. I had been up the day before on normal skis to find my ski legs.

I hired touring skis for the ascent as these are lighter and you can hike uphill with them. The Breithorn is known as an ‘easy’ 4,000er and looks skiable, so I ascertained that it would be rude not to. The ascent is short, but pretty steep. We went around half way up with the skis, put crampons (metal plates with spikes) on our boots, roped up with harnesses and then headed for the summit. It was cloud-covered at first, but the clouds cleared and I could see nothing but high mountains all around. It’s endlessly beautiful.

From this height, I could see the Allalinhorn, which was my first 4,000er — the Breithorn was my second. There are 38 4,000ers around Zermatt and 43 in Switzerland in total. I made a note to return as part of my challenge and climb more of them. The Spaghetti tour takes in up to 10 peaks from Zermatt. It would be an amazing way to finish my challenge… but not till next summer.

The ski back down to Trockener Steg at 2,900 metres was incredible, though it was slushier than the day before, which I felt on my legs. Thankfully, I had the best hot tub in my hotel (Hotel Daniela), which was more like a swimming pool. It was amazing. Adventure is great, but so is a bit of luxury after.

The Breithorn in Switzerland is 4,164 meters high

Not all of my trips are like this — most of my hiking and climbing is done in rain. Sadly, in Ireland, you need rain gear and gaiters and look like a wet motorcycle courier most of the time. I’ve only ever experienced 800-metre-plus peaks in Co Wicklow, including Lugnaquilla, Mullaghcleevaun and Tonelagee, in sideways rain and low cloud. I have to laugh when I see perfectly manicured photos of Instagram hikers. I’ve never seen anyone look like that clambering up the side of a waterfall or walking in bogs.

My Irish tally stands at 10 relevant peaks — including Slieve Donard in the Mourne Mountains, which I recently climbed with three friends on a nice sunny day. Going hiking with the right people is crucial. My friend Vickey is great and has led us off mountains where I could barely see my hand in front of my face, covered in rain and mist. I also go out with a group called Trailblazers on Meetup, who have a great pace.

Tryfan in Snowdonia, Wales, was climbed with Irish guide Jonathan Redmond (mountainodyssey.co.uk). It’s 917 metres so fits into my challenge and offers lots of scrambling and some roped climbing (needless to say, it’s good to practise roped climbing before you do anything like this). I’ve been out with Jonathan in Wicklow before, and knew Wales would be perfect, as he lives there and knows his way around. He also does tours across Europe and guides around the world. I got a ferry to Holyhead, a short train ride and a cab to Snowdonia, where I stayed in a youth hostel. It’s doable financially.

I’ve also been out with Paul Swail (paulswailguiding.com) and climbed the Aiguille d’Entrèves in Courmayeurs on the other side of Mont Blanc. It’s also a technical climb and certainly one you need a guide for — unless you’re a brilliant climber, which I’m not. Paul climbed with rock climbing legend Alex Honnold in Alaska last year (the star of Free Solo, a documentary about his pioneering ascent of the Freerider route on El Capitan in Yosemite National Park).

I’ve been out on German-speaking tours with Hans Kammelander too (kammerlander.com), who has a speed record on Mount Everest among many other things. We climbed four 3,000ers in Northern Italy, which involved snow, exposed ridges and lots of rock. I’m half-German so I love going to German-speaking locations and going to the mountains with locals.

Back home, Iain Miller in Donegal (uniqueascent.ie) is a great man for the mixed terrain and learning new skills.

Getting guides is great, but it helps to be a pretty good hiker before you do any of these, have really good fitness and be really well-prepared. I’ve been hiking for years, but I still make mistakes, which I hate. Forgetting one thing —like shades, or spare socks or gloves — can be really annoying. My boots, which were rain-proof until my last two trips, suddenly aren’t anymore, and I need new ones.

If you fail to prepare, even for a small hike in Ireland, or you don’t have the right gear, you will pay the price. I lost my hat last time and spent the trip annoyed with myself. You need to have everything you need accessible — like mini sun tan lotion. Stopping and starting all the time is not an option, especially with guides, so I have my professional camera in front of me, rather than in my bag, where I have to pack it in and out. As per Murphy’s Law, good judgment comes from experience. Experience comes from bad judgment.

The best way to be good in the mountains is to go as much as possible. It’s a great activity for children too, as they learn to assess risk, organise themselves and get fresh air. I bring my nine-year-old daughter hiking a lot (as long as other children are there). She generally hates it, but it’s great exercise and it’s free. I brought her with me to Chamonix some years back and sent her to camp, while I went to the mountains. She even hiked up to the 2,500m Brevent in Chamonix with me.

For my ‘50 before I’m 50’, I’m dividing ascents into different categories, including peaks which I can do on my own. Some in the Alps, like Gornergrat, are no problem, for example. I’ve also pencilled in the Coomloughra Horseshoe in Kerry to do with my friend Vickey — it’s around 12km with a 1,300m ascent and takes in the summits of the three highest mountains in Ireland: Carrauntoohil, Beenkeragh and Caher.

I’d love to climb in Iceland, Svalbard, Glencoe in Scotland and Mount Kenya or Azerbaijan, but I’ll see what’s possible. I always have lofty plans. Before I had my daughter, I wanted to go to K2 in Pakistan, but that didn’t happen and now I can’t, as three weeks is impossible to go away for. The lesson from this is go when you can.

In fact, that’s the hardest part of going to the mountains — finding the time and money. Even in Wicklow, the 800-metre peaks take up the best part of a day, so I can only go if my daughter is looked after. When I travel abroad, I only have a few days where my daughter is with her granny, so there’s no time to waste. I’ve often only been there for one day — like in Ehrwald at the German-Austrian border, when I climbed the Zugspitze, Germany’s highest peak, and flew back the next day. With zero acclimatisation, going from sea level to almost 3,000 meters is a lot.

When you’re middle-aged, as I allegedly am now, these little breaks are so fun and exciting. Approaching 50, apparently I’m at the age where the least amount happens and I’m stuck in a cycle of tasks and boring pressures. But climbing and hiking gives me maximum adventure and a good feeling afterwards. In return, I forego unnecessary nights out, dinners, socialising, any kind of wanton spends — well, most of the time. It’s either pints or holidays — rarely both. I sound like Scrooge, but I’d prefer to book something and then figure out how I’m going to do it. Generally, I don’t mind being out of my comfort zone or travelling on my own. If you wait for others, nothing happens.

By announcing my plan to climb 50 peaks, I’ve now put myself in a position where I have to commit to them. I oscillate between being lazy and bed-bound to walking the distance of a marathon. If I don’t put my name down for something, I wouldn’t trust myself to do it. But rather than ruminate about getting older, I may as well do something. I can’t stop time, but I can do things that time can’t take away.

Climbing 50 peaks

Adventure travels with my daughter