He returned the cardboard folder to its hiding place, feeling none the wiser. His father had been hassling him about his UCAS application but he kept stalling and Bo kept steering the conversation away from the topic, as if she instinctively knew. Losing his mother had been unbearable but Bo had just been there for him, quietly and patiently and the decision to move to Cumbria had been an easy one, although he knew it had hurt his step father. But Bo came as part of a job lot and he had always loved his trips to see Aunty Belinda and Uncle Dave, Nan and all of Bo's siblings, much to his mother's chagrin. It didn't seem to matter that he wasn't related to them in any way, he was their daughter's step son and Nan had sat him down very early on and told him, in no uncertain terms, that this meant he was family. Bella was his favourite cousin, although he never dared tell her, or anyone else, that he had always had a huge crush on her and, encouraged by Bo, she was now in her final year at Leeds University, finishing her degree in chemical engineering.

Bo had gone on a short tour not long after he had moved in, it had been hard, but neither his dad nor himself would hear of her not going. 'Go and do the job you're bloody good at,' his dad had said, so she had gone, tearfully leaving him with a huge hug and a man who he suddenly realised, he didn't really know. It had been a relief a few hours later when they heard the local minibus stop outside and the unmistakable tones of his Nan had filled the house. His dad had rolled his eyes, but he knew that secretly those two loved each other more than the vast majority of in laws. His dad had protested about her arrival, immediately insisting he reimburse the train fare and telling her she couldn't just drop everything in London for him. Having been ushered upstairs, from the landing, he could hear that his Nan was having none of it.

'Look 'ere mate, you may be able to lead soldiers in Afghan and men up mountains, but I doubt very much you've had much experience in getting a teenager out of bed and off to school. No offence mate, but you weren't really around much when he were growing up, so wind your neck in and let me 'elp until Mol's back. Besides, she's been telling us how the charity's just gone into the stratosphere, so I doubt very much you can cope with running that and looking after your grieving son on your own.'

'Maybe I can't look after him, maybe I should send him back to Peter in Bath?'

'He ain't a sodding parcel! He's your son and he thinks the frigging sun shines out of your sodding arse. You've already made the decision to give up them expeditions so you can be a proper dad to 'im and he wants to live here with you and Mols, thinks the pair of you are 'eroes, so step up to the plate and get on with it. We're a family, we'll get through this as a family.'

His father's reply was inaudible but his Nan must have got her way as she stayed until a couple of weeks after Bo retuned. He had loved every minute of her visit, as, it would seem, had George the minibus driver!

His dad sometimes found it difficult to hit the mark with discipline but Bo, as ever, acted as a counterbalance. He had wanted to go off into the hills when he first arrived but his father had become overly concerned about him being on his own. Before any real argument could begin, Bo had looked up from her book and simply said, 'This ain't East Ham mate, he's not going smoking and drinking on street corners. Take my phone, take food and clothing and ring us immediately if anything happens or you just need picked up. It's a lovely day, enjoy it.' His dad, realising he had been overruled, just nodded in agreement and sprung into action to find a suitable rucksack, compass, map and food. The next day he had taken him into town and kitted him out with his own decent gear. It was almost as if his father could only articulate his love through actions, while Bo just said it like it was.

He looked over to the wall above his bedside table, where a laminated centrefold from a magazine was neatly pinned. A huge photograph filled the page, overlaid by white text on the right hand side. The picture was of a group of people standing on a Himalayan mountain side, the sun rising behind them. They were formed into a V shape, all adopting unsmiling postures. The man at the head of the V, nearest the camera, stood with his arms folded across his chest, his steely eyes set into chiselled, tanned features and his hair an explosion of unkempt dark curls. 'Healing Mountains: Jon Griffith meets the enigmatic Charles James'.

In truth, he didn't even need to read the text any more, he knew every word on that page by heart, the names of everyone included in the photograph's caption. He had researched who Jon Griffith was and looked at all the photographs he had taken on his father's expeditions. Clearly it was not just Sam who found his father an enigma, but at the same time, he felt this article showed him a side he didn't know, tantalising glimpses into a past he wasn't part of. Bo knew though, even his mother had had to admit that Bo and his father had a synergy few would understand. He lay back on his pillow and began to recite the article.

Celebrated Alpinist, Charity founder, army veteran, husband and father. Just five ways to describe a man I first met in 2016 when he was part of a multi national expedition to put up a hard winter route on the Aiguilles Rouges, which I had been asked to document photographically. The decision by Leo Houlding to include this unknown Brit was badly received by the more 'established' French members of the party, some going as far as to relinquish their positions, amid accusations of favouritism and incompetence. But Leo Houlding stuck to his guns and Charles James remained on the team. Self assured, observant and immediately likeable, as the expedition began, it became readily apparent that this man was not only a talented mountaineer, but also the epitome of a team player and when Leo himself was forced to retreat as a result of serious illness, the whole venture then threatened by vicious in-fitting and poor weather, it was he who emerged as a natural leader, totally unflappable under pressure and with a remarkable ability to mould wilful, independent and at times selfish, mountaineers into a well oiled and extremely efficient machine. In the end, the team put up not one, but three new winter routes and the expedition passed into the annals of climbing history. As much as for his incredible ability to bring a team together in the face of adversity, as for the routes themselves, Charles James was nominated for a Piolet d'Or award that year and is now considered as one of the finest British mountaineers of his generation.

Recently I managed to catch up with the man himself at his Derwent Water cottage.

JG: Earlier this year you led the British Army expedition to Annapurna I to commemorate Henry Day's 1970 ascent. How did that come about?

CJ: I run a charity offering rehabilitation to those injured during active service, through hillwalking, climbing and mountaineering. We also encourage serving personnel to come to us to improve their skill set, to work with the veterans and to gain outdoor leadership qualifications that they can use within their own units, after they leave, or better still, within our organisation.

I'd been working quite closely with the guys based at Catterick for about two years and obviously had been involved in Alpine and Himalayan expeditions myself, when someone muted the idea of an attempt on Annapurna I. To me, the idea represented everything I had been trying to achieve with the charity and I agreed immediately, but it took a tough selection process and about a year of training before we had a team I was certain could summit.

JG: Many of those who took part in the expedition say that it has changed their lives, that they no longer feel that they are defined by their injuries. Many say that this is in no small part down to your own abilities as a leader. What makes you so good in the face of adversity?

CJ: (He looks embarrassed). I didn't drag them up that mountain, they used their own abilities to get them there. I helped them train properly and I gave advice, but ultimately they could have got there without me. As for my skills in adversity, well, I was in the army, I was trained to lead, simple as that.

JG: When I first met you and asked what you did prior to becoming involved in serious mountaineering, you told me that you had seen a bit of the world and done a few things. Why are you so reticent to talk about your army career, when it seems you are also held in extremely high regard in those circles? (At this point Charles' wife appears with a tray of coffee and cake and tells us she is off fell running with the lads as they need 'a proper rinsing')

CJ: Our centre is literally 100m down the road, we bought a farm when it became vacant and with the help of the National Park Authority and with some funding with the MOD, got proper facilities set up. We now have a 20 bed bunk house, the Dylan Smith Centre and can accommodate pretty much any kind of injury.

JG: Watching his wife jog down the road, I ask Charles how they met.

CJ: In Afghanistan, well technically at Brize Norton, but I was being a right bastard at that point so I don't count it. (He appears to continue thinking as he sips his coffee). People often ask about my army career and I don't really want to talk about it. It's 6 years since I left so it's in the past. I just don't believe I'm any kind of hero, ultimately I made some pretty serious mistakes and I can't forgive myself for that (he nods towards his wife), she's the hero round here, although she doesn't see it like that either! (Sergeant Molly James was awarded the Military Cross at the end of her first tour of Afghanistan, after risking her own life by crossing a mine field (and being caught in a minor blast) and the presence of a sniper, to save the life of a wounded Private. More recently, she has been awarded an OBE for services to combat medicine. It has been said that her pioneering work on improving battle casualty care has saved hundreds, if not thousands of lives throughout the world. It is difficult to believe that she is still only 26 – Charles is 35)

JG: But you had your own personal reasons for starting the Healing Mountains charity?

CJ: (He looks very uncomfortable as he prepares to speak) I resigned from the army because I had been too badly injured to return to active duty. Molly saved my life, actually. But when I got out of hospital I was a tortured soul, I didn't know what to do or where to go, the only thing that kept me sane was being outside, being physical. I dug holes all over my parents garden, just to keep fit and keep active. But then I came up here again, I had had an Aunt who lived nearby and when I was at boarding school and my parents were away, I was farmed out to her. It was idyllic. I saw an advert for expedition leaders in Climb and I realised that I could combine the thing I was good at, leadership, with the things I love, mountains. So we moved up here and I worked really hard with some guys I knew until I was fit. I met Leo Houlding through them and after climbing together for fun for a few weeks in the Dolomites, he asked me to join the Aiguilles Rouges expedition, well you know the rest.

JG: And what about the charity?

CJ: Well, the sense of achievement after Aiguilles Rouges was immense, not the Piolet d'Or nomination, that was just embarrassing, but the personal achievement of going from the man who was a wreck, to the man who had helped his team surpass their aims. Physically and metaphorically I felt like I was standing on top of the world when I reached that summit. As soon as I came home, I made contact with some people who had helped me with my rehabilitation at Headley Court and with some of my old unit over at Catterick and the project began. I thought when I decided what to do next, that I would perhaps end up running some kind of outdoor centre up here, but I never thought I would do the expeditions I have done, nor that the charity would expand exponentially like it has. I'm living proof that you can achieve anything if you want it enough and that's the confidence I want the guys to feel when they leave us.

JG: You have a son from a previous marriage, what does he make of his mountaineering dad?

CJ: He's a 13 year old boy, mainly he just grunts! He's always lived with his mum because I was, and still am, away from home a lot, but he seems proud of me, his mum says he keeps anything he sees about me in the press. I'd really like to get him more into climbing and walking though, I hope it's something we might enjoy together.

JG: Would you like him to follow in the remarkable footsteps of you and Molly?

CJ: (He thinks long and hard). I think I would prefer it if he worked in a bank!

At this point a sprightly Molly runs past 'Laps, Boss' she shouts over the wall. Twenty seconds later, a far less energetic group of about 10 men follow behind. Charles stands up, 'Come on lads, you're the bloody instructors! Have some human decency and put some bloody effort in.' As he passes, a rather red faced man with vibrant ginger hair shouts back, 'Only if you get some new bloody lines, Boss.' Charles sits down and turns to me with a grin, 'Proper rinsed.', he says.

To round off the interview I ask him his plans for the future.

CJ: To be honest the charity keeps me very busy at the moment and I'm finding it hard to find the time for own training and expeditions, although I do have a trip to the Lofoten Islands with Leo and few other guys in the pipeline. Nothing hardcore, we'll see when we get there. Oh, and Leo emailed me a picture of the Aiguilles Rouges the other day, with a big red line drawn up the face, so I think he probably wants to go and do that! I'm 35 now, I'll give things another couple of years and then probably concentrate on the charity... (he looks to Molly approaching for the 3rd time), and my family, of course.

Speeding down the M6 towards London later that night, I could not help but reflect on this remarkable man. To me, at least, he remains a fascinating enigma.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and began typing. 'Fancy a few routes tomorrow? Forecast looks good.'.

The phone beeped in response almost instantly, 'Brains', displayed prominently on the screen. 'I'm only next door, you lazy get, next time, put on your trainers and come and ask! But yeah, totally up for that, Mansfield and Fingers keen too.'

'Great, what time?'

'0830 here at Smurf's? BTW Fingers says have you spoken to your dad and Molls yet? Cos he's going to start withholding climbing partnership if you don't do it soon.'

'No, I don't know what to say. Chat tomorrow?'

'No worries, must be good to have 7 surrogate older brothers when you need advice!'