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).
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