More than anything there is the sense of scale: you can fly for hours and hours of Alaska and you look down and all you'll see is forests, lakes and snow-capped mountains, with no sign whatsoever of human beings.
Britain has some of the finest climbing on the planet, with a sense of wilderness that rivals anywhere else on earth. You can be on a rock face watching crashing waves and feeling a million miles away but because we're a small isle, you're never really that remote; there's always a village nearby.
Most of my job is out in the wild, miles away from the public and it's nice to see people and hear what they like and don't like about the shows. It's really helpful.
I'm not a great technical climber, but over the years it has given me the opportunity to see wonderful corners of Britain that I wouldn't have been able to experience any other way.
Lose the sharks, the mighty, mysterious lords of the deep, and our planet's oceans would be infinitely poorer places.
The night sky, seen from a deserted foothold where no man-made light shines, is more spectacular than any giant cinema screen could ever display.
My favourite climb is St Kilda, west of Benbecula in Scotland's Outer Hebrides. It's incredibly remote, with the highest sea cliffs in Britain.