Julie Lewis likes to joke that she was born wearing a pair of trainers. As a child she was always outdoors, walking, running and exploring, and she only came home when she was hungry or when it got dark. At 64, she has spent more than two decades leading groups on expeditions everywhere from the Arctic to Antarctica. Her advice for anyone feeling flat, stuck or lonely is refreshingly simple: step outside, switch off the noise, and pay attention to what you can see, hear and feel.
Julie studied sports science more than 40 years ago and spent around 20 years in the health, fitness and sports management industry. Then, for her 40th birthday, she climbed Mount Kinabalu in Malaysia. Standing at 4,095 metres with her arms outstretched, people singing happy birthday, she felt totally alive and had an idea: a company that takes other people to wild places to challenge themselves, connect with nature and discover strengths they would never find going from home to the office.
It took her another year to find the courage to leave her full-time job. In April 2003 she led a team of 18 women to Everest Base Camp in Nepal, 18 days and over 18,000 feet. When she got home, everyone asked what she was doing next, and she decided to do what she said she wanted to do. That leap of faith became Mountain High, and she has been leading expeditions for the last 23 years.
Anthony suggested that turning 40 sounded like a midlife crisis. Julie prefers a different label: a life awakening. She describes those bathroom mirror moments, brushing your teeth and asking yourself, "Is this it?" For her, that question sparked leaps rather than panic, because it came with a second one: what can I do to create what I want "it" to be?
Julie says each landscape has taught her something different.
Seeing the cycles of life, the patterns, the colours and the wildlife, is for her the biggest injection of joy there is.
Not every expedition went to plan, and Julie is open about that. On Mount Elbrus in Russia, a storm and whiteout forced her group to turn back about 300 metres from the summit. A gust of wind tore her mitten away, she knelt to lower her centre of gravity, and she remembers thinking she had so much more to say and do. She talked herself through it with some self-regulation and followed her guide to safety.
In 2018, aged 56, she attempted to swim the English Channel. After four hours in the cold and dark, the official observer told her she wasn't going to France. A strong current was pulling her towards the shipping lanes, and she knew she couldn't battle ships. She was disappointed, but she reframed it quickly: better disappointed than hit by a boat. The takeaway she shares is that with all the will in the world, Mother Nature always has the last say, and moments like these build what she calls your resilience muscle.
For listeners who feel frozen by stress, whether it's family, health, relationships or money worries, Julie's starting point is to unplug from screens, information overload and the comparison that comes with social media, then go outside. Look at the sun or a tree, or listen to the birds. Then ask yourself two questions: when did I last feel fully alive, and what have I stopped doing that I loved as a child?
She encourages what she calls micro moments of joy: small deposits into your own account across the day. That might be laughing with friends, patting a pet, dancing to music, or sipping a coffee or tea slowly rather than gulping it down. Her own three o'clock ritual is a green tea and a piece of dark chocolate, savoured fully. Nobody disturbs Julie and her chocolate.
She also suggests a simple sequence for tough moments: notice how you feel, work out what is behind it, ask what you would like to feel instead ("name it to tame it"), and then decide who could help. Asking for help is part of the process, not a failure of it.
Julie points out that we are supposedly more connected than ever, yet loneliness is a huge issue globally. Anthony added that convenience plays a part: when we order everything to our door, we lose the small conversations that used to happen naturally. Julie isn't against technology, and she's glad it lets her chat from Abu Dhabi to Sydney. Her invitation is to balance it. Take digital detoxes, call a friend instead of sending a quick message, pop into the shop and say hello.
On her walks she says good morning to everyone, and the regulars now know her. If no one is around, she suggests a butterfly hug or simply holding your own hand, and she says a tree is a fine hugging partner too. For more on why connection starts with the relationship you have with yourself, see our earlier post on the three relationships that help you feel whole again. Larry Kesslin also explores how comparison gets in the way of joy in Joy Is Not an Achievement.
As cost of living pressures bite, Julie's ideas have the bonus of being cheap or free:
She compares it to a forest: the trees look like individuals, but they are connected through their roots. Anthony's key takeaway was that connection takes intention. We have to put aside the time, rather than waiting for it to happen.
Julie's website is julie-lewis.com, which links to her LinkedIn and Instagram, her two books and a set of audio journeys with layered frequencies designed to help regulate your nervous system when you can't get outdoors.
This article is general information drawn from a conversation and isn't a substitute for professional support. If loneliness or stress is weighing on you, please reach out to a trusted person or a health professional.
Listen to more episodes of Joyful Mate on the me&my wellness podcasts page, and share this one with someone who could use a little more joy today.