There is a growing community of young climbers who travel out to the remote reaches of the Jurassic Coast in order to push themselves physically and mentally on the rock faces. From cold winter nights to warm summer weekends, there is a presence in this sport that has a uniquely strong draw among its participants.

I grew up climbing the Welsh Snowdonian mountains with my dad and uncle; I can remember the mix of intense fear and exhilaration on that cold and dark day where a ten-year-old Fin scaled a 150ft cliff face without ropes alongside my farther - wanting to make him proud. The motivation driving me all those years ago is experienced by every climber and boulderer when on the rock - it is the ecstasy that draws us junkies back whenever we can afford the time.

In an age where so many hobbies and sports are incredibly accessible, why do we choose to climb? Why travel so far along rugged terrain with heavy bags to scale cliff-tops or mammoth boulders, destroying our hands in the process and, eventually, injuring ourselves.

In fact, during the project there were two injuries among the following subjects - one requiring surgery. But this question of why is one that I kept finding myself coming back to. As a climber and a photographer, I was in a unique position to explore this through the lens, and so I spent close to a year walking out onto the boulder-fields with my climbing, camping, and camera gear, sleeping under boulders or in pillboxes, and climbing as much as I could. Bouldering has always been a big part of my life, but it feels as though I have uncovered a far deeper and intimate side to it over the past year and during the production of this book, and this experience has been utterly amazing.