THE views from Portsmouth’s iconic Spinnaker Tower – built to commemorate the millennium – are nothing short of spectacular.

Hundreds of thousands of people literally flock to Gunwharf Quays every year just to soak up the panoramic splendour across the port city.

It’s a view which takes in the jaunty little green and white ferries which slosh and slide their way across the harbour to Gosport. It’s a view which stretches as far as the eye can see and takes in Portsdown Hill and the A3 road north to London. And it’s a view to the picturesque Isle of Wight with a distinctive church spire standing proudly in the coastal town of Ryde.

Now, imagine seeing those same stunning views from the outside of Spinnaker Tower rather than the warmth and safety of the viewing platform inside the tower, 100 metres above terra firma with only a couple of ropes, a pair of sturdy gloves and a snazzy orange crash hat for company. Because that’s exactly what I did one balmy – barmy? – Saturday morning in May.

Now, sliding down the side of a building which is two-and-half times the size of Nelson’s Column – dedicated to arguably Portsmouth’s most famous son – isn’t everyone’s idea of a nice relaxing start to the weekend, but it was a leap of faith I was more than happy to take to support the Phyllis Tuckwell Hospice’s sterling work caring for cancer patients nearing the end of their lives.

The hospice, which cares for more than 250 patients, relatives and carers every day in their own homes, in the community, at its Farnham base or at the Beacon Centre in Guildford despite the NHS and the Government covering only 20 per cent of its £20,000 daily running costs, is four decades old this year and set up the ‘Phyllis at 40’ fundraising campaign to help meet those critical costs.

So how could we at the Herald help the hospice? By getting someone tojump off a ludicrously tall building at Gunwharf Quays, that’s how – the first of a series of challenges where we aim to raise £4,000 for the charitable fund.

My own mum and dad have both been struck down by the dreaded big C – happily both have lived to tell the tale, many others have not been so fortunate. So abseiling for the hospice was a very small sacrifice to make.

And let’s face it, if Portsmouth’s very own daredevil Doris Long could break a world record as the oldest person on the planet to abseil at the grand old age of 101 as she did in 2015, then I really had no excuse.

Was it scary? Surprisingly not. Would I do it again? Most definitely.

Abseiling in pairs over the course of the day, with 32 adrenaline-fuelled folk of all shapes, sizes and ages – but strictly over-18s only – taking the plunge, the guys and gals in charge of the whole operation and safety procedures put the abseilers at their ease to such an extent that there was no real time, need or cause to feel any sense of trepidation or panic.

In truth, I thought some serious nerves would kick in as I made my way out of the tiny doorway which leads onto the small metal platform which juts out 100 metres above the bustling retail and leisure hub that is Gunwharf Quays, but there was such a huge wave of calm emanating from the guys who talked us through the basics of the harness and the ropes, ensuring in a thoroughly professional manner that abseilers knew exactly what they were doing and how to control their rate of descent, that any nerves made way for a feeling of excitement.

Even stepping off the metal platform and anchoring both feet on the side of the tower failed to raise the tension levels – quite the opposite.

In their place were feelings of euphoria, of achievement, sitting there in a harness in mid-air for the obligatory picture with arms held proudly aloft and the words of the instructors ringing in your ears – ‘have fun and don’t forget to look around you and enjoy the view’.

For some, that’s the most ridiculous advice they will probably hear in their lives as they battle 100 metres of sheer terror to simply get through the experience, but for most that advice is sound because once you have quickly realised that the harness you are strapped into is absolutely rock solid and secure, you can really start to relax, look around and fully appreciate what a wonderful experience it is to take on something as challenging and satisfying as an abseil.

And to do it for such a worthy cause as Phyllis Tuckwell Hospice makes the feeling of personal achievement all the sweeter.

The emotions I went through on my abseil don’t compare in any way to what so many brave cancer fighters go through on a daily basis, but hopefully the results of it will help make at least a few lives a little more bearable.