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.
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