There’s something about the mountains that calls to the soul — a raw, unfiltered place where the noise of the world falls silent, and you’re left with the truth of who you are. This September, I’ll answer that call once again, this time in the high Atlas Mountains of Morocco. I’m heading to climb Mount Toubkal, North Africa’s highest peak, and as with every step I’ve taken on this journey, it’s about more than the summit.
It’s about survival.
For those who don’t know my story, I’m David Uttley. Over a decade ago, I was diagnosed with melanoma — skin cancer. What began as a mole became a battle that’s left me with no pancreas, no spleen, and more hospital visits than I can count. In 2021, I was told I had Stage 4 cancer. The words landed like a hammer, but I refused to be defined by them. I chose instead to fight, to climb, to live.
Since then, I’ve stood on the roof of Africa — at the snow-covered summit of Kilimanjaro. I’ve walked above the clouds and wingwalked above Cirencester. I’ve done it to raise awareness of melanoma, to shout into the wind that life after cancer is not just possible — it can be extraordinary.
Now, at 61, I’m preparing for a new challenge: Mount Toubkal.
At 4,167 metres, Mount Toubkal is not as high as Kilimanjaro, but this mountain holds its own tests. The terrain is rugged, the air thin, the path demanding. But I go not to escape — I go to reconnect. To remind myself, and others, that scars do not end stories. They start new ones.
This climb is for everyone who’s been told “you can’t.”
For every person who’s sat in a waiting room, staring down a diagnosis.
For those who carry fear quietly in their chest.
And it’s for the sun warriors — those of us who know that UV damage is real, that skin cancer doesn’t care how old you are or how strong you look on the outside. I’ve made it my mission to raise awareness about the risks of sunbeds, excessive tanning, and ignoring that “harmless” mole. Climbing mountains is one thing — but the biggest mountain is educating people and saving lives.
So, as I lace up my boots and head to Morocco, I carry more than gear. I carry the names of those I’ve met through Melanoma UK, the stories shared through tears and laughter, the weight of loss, and the hope of healing.
The mountains may test me, but they never beat me.
Because I’m still here. Still climbing. Still shouting from the summits:
Check your skin. Respect the sun. Live fiercely.
If you’d like to support melanoma awareness or follow my climb, stay tuned here or reach out through Melanoma UK.
Every voice matters. Every story counts.
