a pilgrimage of sorts

West Highland Way…14 miles to Tyndrum

I realise I write nothing in my paper journal yesterday. It really was just a matter of keeping going, and there were no places which invited me to pause and scribble. With our arrival in the glens today a more leisurely day was promised, even if the distance was the same.

Last summer, walking in the Dolomites, our tour guide wouldn’t show us a map as he felt it might discourage some of the less confident walkers. Yesterday, I found myself checking my map on my phone to make sure I was on the right path, but I deliberately avoided doing so when I felt I was in one of those “are we nearly there yet?” moments.

It was a relief to be able to go at the pace my legs felt capable of sustaining. This got me thinking about how one’s sense of time changes. There are fixed points in the day; breakfast and the deadline for getting bags into the place for them to be collected, but most of the day becomes divided much more loosely - around lunchtime (I should be about half-way) or mid-afternoon (I ought to be getting close to my hotel for the night). This feels very different from the more common sense in which time is a commodity in short supply, or is the cause of so much pressure (the tyranny of the urgent). When walking, time becomes the rhythm of the day. 

In the Incarnation, God allows himself to be subject to time, but he is unbounded by it, whereas we can never achieve this. In the Garden God chose his time, he walked in the cool of the day. I pondered how we might take this idea of time as a rhythm rather than a dictator into the busy and time-dependent life of ministry. When walking it is as if our heart and lungs and our legs are working in harmony, not like running where you eventually have to stop because they are inherently out of kilter.

Just before stopping for lunch I reached the Crianlarich crossroads, the half-way point on the West Highland Way. Time and miles pass, even in this “out of time” few days. And then, somewhat bizarrely, our on the trail I bumped into someone I had last seen in 2005. Such is the serendipitous nature of life constrained by time.

West Highland Way…14 miles to Inverarnan

Yesterdays’s push to be more grateful hit the buffers, rather, with the depressing discovery that there was only instant coffee available at breakfast. 

I left the hotel early, around 7:30, and realised I had already formed a pattern for each day; breakfast as early as possible, then out onto the trail and going for most of the morning so that I could stop for lunch at least half-way, then take a bit more time in the afternoon so as to be able to check in and enjoy a shower and rest before trying to write up the day and have some food.

As I set out, I found myself pondering the text I am preaching on in a couple of weeks - Romans 8:26-30, and particularly what it means to acknowledge and sit comfortably with a sense of weakness. This morning’s section of the trail splits early on. The “low” route by the side of the Loch is supposed to be scenic but quite arduous. The “high” route is easier on forestry roads but without the views. As the clouds and mist were enveloping the hills on the other side, the decision was an easy one, especially as the afternoon section is notoriously demanding.

I was pleased that my feet and legs seemed to be recovered from yesterday, but I was aware of a bit of a twinge in my right knee when climbing. I’ll need to be mindful of that during the day.

Accepting one’s weakness means recognising limits and also what things push one’s buttons, but this does not mean becoming fearful. As a group of fit, younger men passed me discussing their various walking achievements I wondered if I would have have been able to do this walk when I was their age? I may have had more stamina, but would I have had the resolve to keep going?

I walked alone for over three hours until I reached the waterfall at Inversnaid, about which Gerard Manley Hopkins had written a poem. For the next two hours I tackled the slippery rocks, exposed tree roots, uneven steps and twists and turns of the trail. I saw one or two other walkers - all equally exhausted. Finally, at the top end of the Loch, I bumped once more into the Canadian hiker I’d met on the first day. He looked bushed as he had been carrying a full pack on that last section.

Leaving the Loch behind, the landscape changed. Ahead, the hills and mountains that form the glens began to appear - some even had patches of snow still visible. The trails ahead promise to be less gruelling, following some of the old military roads even as the landscape becomes more remote.

 

 

West Highland Way…14 miles to Rowardennan

I slept deeply but woke early. I watched a YouTube video of someone walking today’s route. Everyone agrees this stretch is tough. The first half of the walk goes up to the ridge of Conic Hill before descending to the Loch-side village of Balmaha. The trail then heads north along the shoreline. 

It is lambing season, so there are some restrictions on the route over the hill. I consider the low level option but that is along a road. The weather is overcast with rain expected, and the wind is stronger and colder than yesterday. My mood is challenged somewhat when I read Morning Prayer where, in The Preparation, it says;

May we, the firstfruits of your new creation,
rejoice in this new day you have made.

and so I set myself the task of being grateful and I reminded myself of Eugene Peterson’s encouragement to have a graceful heart as the antidote to the rampant malaise and dissatisfaction which can so easily creep from our culture into our Christian faith.

it is important for me to take photographs as a part of my sense of gratitude, and so I resolve to go up the hill, even if the views from the top are restricted by cloud. The first section of the trail follows an old military road, but soon changed to forest track and then a variety of wet rock, slippy grass and uneven steps for the rest of the ascent and down the other side into Balmaha. One has to concentrate on the steps ahead, unlike yesterday’s much easier trail where the mind could wander. Sometimes focussing on the next foot step, and other times looking two or three strides ahead to judge the best route around a boulder.

It was still raining as I entered the town. My research had uncovered a coffee shop and I looked forward to a hot drink and perhaps a cake. However, the shop was rammed with wet walkers and I knew that if I stayed it would not be the peaceful opportunity I had imagined to reflect and journal. I also knew that I would have to go back out into the rain and so I decided to stand in the drizzle and eat a banana and a bit of chocolate.

The second half of the day was deceptively tough. Tired legs and feet still having to negotiate the twists and turns (and uneven steps) of the path along the side of Loch Lomond. The rain carried on until last 1pm, so I kept going - stopping to drink my water and take the occasional photo of the mountains across the water.

Gratitude got harder as the day wore on. I was trying to listen to my legs and feet to discern at what point they got tired. Even as I crested Conic Hill I felt I could keep going forever, but by early afternoon I was not so sure! As I had left Drymen earlier than most I spent the majority of the day alone. I chatted with two young women on top of the hill as we offered to take photos for each other, and then later I overtook one of the party of Americans who had skirted the hill, leaving their companions way behind.

I thought more about gratitude and about what it means to isolate oneself - a phrase which usually has a negative connotation, but here I was alone unless I happened upon someone, or the happened upon me. Is it easier to do a tough walk alone like this, or would the camaraderie and banter of being in a group distract from the effort?

At dinner I was booked in to eat on my own, but the Americans were at the next table with a spare seat, so I was invited to join them. They find themselves in London over the Coronation weekend and wanted to pick my brains for places to visit (or to avoid).

West Highland Way…12 miles to Drymen

An easier first day than feared.

I had my alarm set for my normal wake up time so I can check in with home. There is time to do some last minute sorting as the weather forecast is much improved, so I can put some of my wet gear into my big bag which will be taken on to my next stop in a van. I find this hard as I am aware of a sense of stepping slightly away from reliable and accessible transport infrastructure if something goes wrong which can make one over-compensate and take too much stuff which would only weigh down as the day went on. I then do Morning Prayer and read Psalm 139;

Where can I go then from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?

Over breakfast there was a business man in a suit and shirt, a couple of men in workmen clothes, but most were in hiking gear. I got chatting to an American in the queue for the coffee machine. He is one of a group of five who are walking together.

We had to meet the van with our main bags at 8am in the car park, so we gathered and then once loaded walked into the town to the start of the trail. I had planned to stop for lunch at a cafe part-way, but at the last minute dived into the M&S Food Hall for a sandwich. The group separated fairly quickly on the trail; at times people were visible ahead and behind as we left the town, but then a series of twists and turns and one was suddenly alone again.

I caught up with the Americans outside the town and we were joined by a Canadian solo backpacker. We walked for a while talking family, careers, politics and previous walking trips. I stopped to take some photos and I was met by a teacher shadowing his D of E pupils who were in a small group ahead.

The dramatic mound of Dumgoyne became prominent to our right, covered in a dappled sunlight, and would remain visible for much of the rest of the day before disappearing behind as we crossed a ridge to find views of tomorrow’s walk ahead - Conic Hill and Loch Lomond.

We had been discussing how quickly one becomes “walking fit” and I was aware that, sadly, this has to involve putting some miles into tired legs.

The cafe I had planned to use was closed, so I stopped to eat my sandwich. However, shortly afterwards there was a small Deli just off the track where I could get a coffee and a slice of cake. Much of the trail followed a disused railway line, and so it was relatively level and straight. However, the final few miles returned to a tarmac country lane; twisting and turning - not great for tired feet. I arrived into Drymen ahead of my check-in time and so I was thrilled to find a tea shop where I could have a pot of tea and a table where I could sit and write my notes.

I was aware of keeping an eye on my progress. When walking I was averaging a fraction under 5km/hr and adding in stops of food and rest this dropped to just under 4 km/hr overall. I kept trying to do the mental maths for the long day across Rannock Moor and how early I would be able to start. However, I was also relishing the freedom to go at my own pace. Ted, the Canadian soon disappeared ahead of me and the Americans slowed down and I lost sight of them behind me. I tried to be attentive to my legs and feet in particular; any aches and pains or hot-spots so that I might deal with them before anything serious arose. I stopped to take my boots off and then put them back on again as carefully as I could with no snags or creases in my socks.

I had been reading In Praise of Walking by Shane O’Mara in which he says about walking

when we stand up, things suddenly change in brain and body: we become ‘cognitively mobile’, our minds are in movement, our heads swivel, our eyes dart about. Our brain activity changes when we move about, with electrical brain rhythms that were previously quiescent now engaged and active.

it struck me that if we are truly meant to be “minds in motion”, should this not also apply to our souls? We’re we not made with an instruction to be active - to tend creation and make it fruitful? Was God not moving in the Garden? 

After checking in, even the rather compact hotel bath tub seemed luxurious and I soaked for a while before heading out to explore the town and check out the local shop for what I might be able to buy for tomorrow’s lunch. The Americans were sitting outside a cafe and so we got chatting about our exploits. One of them had rescued a new-born lamb from a ditch and felt very proud of himself! I also made sure I took the time to stretch my legs and rub tired muscles.

It was good to get miles in and to start the walk - finally. Tomorrow is meant to be tough going on the second section alongside the Loch and it looks like there may be rain in the afternoon as well.

West Highland Way…to Milngavie

I collected my tickets yesterday afternoon from a strangely quiet local railway station. Upon checking, I discovered that Southern Rail had problems with biofuel, and as a result the local trains to London were cancelled. This did make me panic somewhat as I had an important connection to make in order to get north in time to check in and get sorted. As a result, I changed my plans and went up to London on another route which (as much as is possible with the trains these days) guaranteed me to arrive in the city in time for the long journey north.

This worked fine and I had plenty of time to cross the City and wait for the Glasgow train from Euston. This train, however, felt disappointingly cramped. There was a party of golfers, so they had extra luggage in the racks, and I was sharing a table seat with a couple and a toddler. I had to force myself to sit back and be contained.

I caught up on podcasts and read a little. I checked the distances I would be walking each day. Most days are certainly manageable, although the one 19 mile day will be a challenge. I resolve to try to make early starts so I can walk and rest frequently.

Milngavie lies at the southern end of the West Highland Way and gives the impression that this passing trade is its major industry. Several probable fellow walkers were visible in and around the Premier Inn and one chap got off the train in the late afternoon and seemed to make his way to start the trail there and then.

I walked to the start of the Way. There is an obelisk and the start leads straight off from the pedestrian shopping street. I’d seen these on lots of videos and selfies from those who had gone before. However, it did not feel right to walk down it…just yet.

I need to reorganise my bags for a prompt start tomorrow.  

West Highland Way planning (Part 4)

Travel Day -1 arrives and I need to pack.

There is plenty of advice about the 10 C's necessary for survival, but I hope to do more than simply survive! Having said that my packing also has to be within the limits of what I can carry and be transported. Additionally, I want to explore something of what the Desert Monastics meant by withdrawal. Anthony, the first real exponent of the solitary life in the desert, did not see this as a complete cutting off from the world; he took part in the most important theological debates of his day and ministered to those who came to seek his wisdom. We have a joke in the house that whenever I go away something happens; the power goes off, or there is an important admin matter to be dealt with, and so it is important for me to be able to keep in touch with home. Our phones are now also important means of accessing maps etc, and so that means a healthy boundary needs to found to fence off the usual external interruptions as well as internally falling into the distractions of YouTube and Wikipedia. That will be a valuable lesson to learn and bring home with me.

John Climacus places haplotes, by which he means simplicity and meekness, at the 24th step (out of 30) on his Ladder of Divine Ascent, which places this at quite an advanced stage in development, suggesting these are amongst the harder things to get right. This sense of holding lightly to "stuff" allows the things which are of ultimate value to become more conspicuous and prevalent. It may even become tempting to tick off the rungs on Climacus' ladder so as to bask in the sense of achievement but, as Lane reminds us,

The spiritual practice isn't the success one achieves in the end, but the process itself.

We might romanticise that for those who went out into the desert wilderness to find the solitude they needed to allow them to fully commune with God, that they could easily leave all responsibilities behind, but that seems not to be quite as cut and dried as we might like to think. Certainly for us, our complex society brings the expectation of our being permanently "plugged in". The challenge, therefore (for most of us), is not how to step away from these things, but how might we hold them at such a distance that we are not being so constantly interrupted from ourselves and the time we need to take with our environments and with God for, as John Chryssavgis puts it,

Detachment is not the inability to focus on things, material or other; it is the spiritual capacity to focus on all things, material and other, without attachment.

I ponder my fortune that, despite thinking about travelling light, I have enough clothes to ensure I can put a clean, dry ones on each morning and enough cash to be able to ensure I find a decent meal each evening.

West Highland Way planning (Part 3)

The weeks have passed, and it is now down to days until I head north for my walk.

I had made several longer runs than I had previously been undertaking; up onto the hills and along the road for 5km each way. I noticed that my trusty Lowa Renegade boots, used almost every day for the last twenty months (including my walking trip in the Dolomites last June), were showing signs of wear and I made the last minute decision to replace them like for like.

However, I still hadn't walked for the sort of distance I would need to be putting in each day and so I took the opportunity to walk to a meeting in town rather than drive. I calculated (using the OS Map app) that this was just under 13km each way which would be a really good test of boots and legs in particular.

One of the key things I learnt in the Italian mountains, thanks to the excellent example of our guide, was that one did not walk past a Refugio with taking the chance to rehydrate and refuel - usually a beer and a plate of strudel! Therefore, I made use of two cafes on my trial walk. We think of our country as being densely populated, but it is amazing how easily it is to find oneself alone on a byway. I passed a walker, a jogger and a cyclist (and a couple of cars on the lanes) but otherwise it felt like I had the world to myself.

The local town has a prehistoric trackway, clearly predating the roads, trading estates and housing. Walking in a straight line through the changing urban landscape felt like taking a core sample and examining the various layered deposits; the overgrown bushes alongside the railings and fencing, emerging to cross a busy road before disappearing once more, and then out along pavements fronting houses, schools and shops.

I was pleased to have learned how to avoid blisters when I was in the mountains, and it felt good to have boots with feet comfortably supported. I was tiring by the time I got within a mile of two of home, as to be expected. I had some muscle stiffness the next day on the front and back of my lower leg. I have been developing a daily routine of stretches, and so I will add these two muscle groups to the list.

 

West Highland Way planning (part 2)

Having reach a point of preparation which seemed to involve reading of others’ success (and failure!) on long distance walks, and the West Highland Way in particular, my attention has shifted elsewhere as I had to complete submissions of my longer written piece for my MA which provided for a theological underpinning of the rationale for this walk.

My starting point for this has been the Desert Monastics from the 4th Century onwards; in particular Evagrius and John Climacus, primarily because we have access to their own words in Praktikos and The Ladder of Divine Ascent, respectively. What we find in both these men was an appreciation of the physical in their own bodies, but also in their environments - either their cells or the desert wilderness. They thought of their physical space as a means of learning spiritual truths.

There is also a similar sense of needing to pay heed to the body and environment in books such as Gabor Maté’s When the body says no and Bessel van der Kolk’s The body keeps the score. By attending to the physical body, they argue, it is possible to find the best route to healing after times of stress and trauma.

Triangulating three texts allowed me to make a proposal - my working hypothesis, as it were - values to address in our “spiritual” lives which cohere with scientific work in our striving for well-being. The three principles I have adopted are;

• Stillness - a tranquility within self which is not disturbed by external circumstances (Climacus writes about fearless resistance even when there is cause to be afraid). An element of this also requires what Maté calls a compassionate curiosity with self.
• Withdrawal - not necessarily a hermit-like stepping away from the world, but a withdrawal of the important part of our selves from the parts of our selves and our surroundings which are not helpful (as nice as they may be). This challenges our attachment to “stuff” and having things (there are plenty of blogs and YouTube videos from people who take on long walking challenges but who do so in a way which perpetuates G.A.S. - gear acquisition syndrome).
• Attention - this is the need to keep a careful eye on our bodies and emotions so as to be alert to any warning signs that might be raised. On this walk I expect to need to be aware of those hot-spots which might lead to blisters, to levels of physical energy I may have for whatever the next challenge on the route may be, to those times when I might have low blood sugars and could possibly then make a silly decision out of haste, as well as my own feelings of tiredness or anxiety.

I have also been trying to work out the best way to record the walk in such a way that I can post usefully about it and also have material for me to reflect upon as I test my working hypothesis. I love having a notebook to write in with a good pencil, but I am also going to try to keep an old dictaphone with me to record more instantaneously for my record. I will also have at least one camera with me to post daily photos to twitter, but also to have images I can work on afterwards - an important part of being attentive to my surroundings for me.

Anyway, that’s the plan so far. More reading to be done and some checking of my travel bookings and route.