a pilgrimage of sorts

West Highland Way...and home

At lunchtime today I had spent 17 of the previous 24 hours sitting on trains. It is good to be home.

I completed the West Highland Way around 4pm two days ago in Fort William. I marked the occasion with a cup of a tea and a cinnamon bun. I walked (slowly) back along the pedestrian precinct to find my room for the night and had a lovely (if rather compact) bath. I couldn't face the sort of "fast food" options available, so made a lovely couscous dehydrated meal I had brought along in case. It was a strange mix of feelings; I had set myself the goal of walking these 94 miles, and I had done that without any real problem, but I was tired - not the physical tiredness that needs to rest, but that inner weariness of pushing myself one last long day. I am pleased to be able to say that I have done the walk, though.

I had mentioned previously about getting walking fit, and so it didn't cross my mind to not then go for a stroll along the sea (or loch, or whatever it is there) front and enjoy the fading light and a bit of cooler weather. Likewise the next morning I stretched my legs before breakfast, as I knew I was going to be sitting down for a while. It was then a four hour ride back, more or less the way I had walked. It was wonderful to see some of the stretches of trail from a different angle - indeed, it almost felt as if it had been a different person out on the paths trying to keep going and not get too concerned about the next bit of the walk and the train was acting as a time machine.

I had walked across the Bridge of Orchy late on Sunday morning. The station, hotel and scattered houses are on the middle left of this photo. I had thought I would eat my packed lunch there, but continued on across the river and then through the trees and up the side of the slopes on the right toward Inveroran. As the train left the station, walkers approaching the bridge were visible to my left.

The track wound along the valley before reaching Tyndrum, for where I had set out on the Sunday morning. I could see the guest house and the Green Welly shop. On and on, going further back in my week of walking. The hotel at Inversnaid was visible across Loch Lomond, marking the start of the toughest two hours I had walked that I could remember back on Friday afternoon. We arrived at Glasgow Queen Street by late afternoon.

I walked around the centre of Glasgow for a time to keep the legs going. The Rennie Mackintosh School of Art still, sadly, shrouded in scaffolding and hoardings. I did take my time over a good meal as the sleeper train didn't leave until 10pm.

Sleeping is not easy, even on the sleeper. I couldn't quite get comfortable, and the lady behind me had a phone conversation at 2am. A steward handed out blankets, which I could roll up into a makeshift pillow and that allowed me a solid few hours.

I got a photo of the sun rising over Luton, and we arrived at Euston over an hour early, allowing me to be the first person in to breakfast at our favourite spot near Embankment. I took my time, and then read the papers before lugging my suitcase up and over one of the Golden Jubilee Bridges and across the South Bank into Waterloo.

I have some photos to work on. Although the scenery was beautiful, the light was mostly flat and the views from the trail were not necessarily the best angles. I'm looking forward to seeing what I can get out of them. I also have quite a bit of writing to do now. My previous blog posts were written on the day, and so the opportunity to reflect was a little limited, but now I can put my notes into a more complete form as a part of this current module on my MA, and I have a deadline for that.

 

 

West Highland Way…14 miles to Fort William

My final day walking. The last 14 miles into Fort William. I read the notes on the route and it suggested a significant uphill section and a rough stage through some woodland. I have mixed feelings. I want to get home, but I also feel I could go further if I had the opportunity. I have no blisters - amazingly!

I have breakfast as soon as the Inn allows, and hit the road by 8:30. The climb out of Kinlochleven starts almost as soon as you leave the road and is hard on tired legs. I normally let the first hour’s walking loosen me up, but no such luxury today. My left knee began to grumble a little, so I made the maximum use of my trekking poles to share the weight. This niggle mirrored how I was feeling about myself today on the trail. I had set out to explore stillness, attention and withdrawal. However, even though I had relished the space and quiet to be still amidst the rhythm of walking, the joy of this elevated stillness was offset as it shone a penetrating sidelight onto those parts of me that remained un-stilled. My swift irritation at a couple of very minor things over recent days, and some part resentments dug up again.

I felt I had done better with the other two. I had loved being able to be contained within myself, whilst greeting fellow-walkers and conversing with some of them for a little longer. I especially missed my American friends from the first stages, who took a shorter walk on Sunday and so were now a day behind me, but otherwise having the space to think, reflect, and take some photographs was a gift. I had also learnt about attention; being aware of myself physically and emotionally as well as my close environment. Pacing oneself demands this sort of attention, and then learning to trust that I would eventually get there becomes easier.

This is a hard landscape. The ruins of abandoned farmsteads on Larig Moor bear testimony to the hardships folks endured in order to be able to live, but who must have eventually conceded defeat. I was also reflecting on Saint Fillan, whose ruined 8th century Priory I had passed a few days earlier. No grand vaulted ceilings fit for pomp and grandeur out here, just sturdy walls and enough space to shelter from the elements.

There was an odd experience today as I tried to keep weary legs going. It seemed almost as if I was perfectly stationary, and it was the effort of my legs which slowly rotated the earth beneath in whichever direction I strode.

Ben Nevis eventually appeared around a shoulder of rock to my right. Vastly overshadowing the hills around but unfortunately not bathed in the sort of light to allow for the best photographs. The drag down and into Fort William seemed to last forever. I chatted briefly with an exhausted Polish couple who were thinking there was another two hours to go! On the outskirts of the town is the old marker for the end of trail, but the new official end is in the town centre. After 95 miles of moor and hill, the sight of a string of tired walkers making their way down the pedestrian precinct, weaving in and out of the passing shoppers, was surreal.

For any stats-geeks reading this, over the last seven days I have;

walked 95 miles (approx 155 km)
taken 213,000 steps
climbed 3701 flights of stairs*

I decide to split my celebration in two. Firstly, I stop in a tea shop for a pot of tea and then, after checking in and enjoying a hot bath, I have one of the emergency dehydrated camping meals I have kept in reserve, washed down with a small bottle of Merlot I bought from the Tesco Express, topped off with a yoghurt and a Crunchie.

It is going to take me a day and half to get home, and so I will do some final thoughts then. This has been an amazing experience, one I would heartily recommend to anyone with some good shoes and a reasonable level of fitness. Using the baggage transfer option meant only having to take a day bag. Some of the wild campers looked like Sherpas laden down with tents, and pots and pans. I can’t imagine how they managed the sections along Loch Lomond!

The Polish couple took a photo on my phone.

*I have no idea how this is worked out or what it actually means.

West Highland Way…9 miles to Kinlochleven

I woke thinking over what I had been reflecting on yesterday and how the sense of being out of control is a significant stressor. Yesterday, I had not been in control of the weather, but I had planned and prepared in order to mitigate against it as much as possible by ensuring I had a good rain-jacket and overtrousers. I also opted to wear contact lenses in order to avoid the depressing feeling of rain-covered glasses slipping down one’s nose. Neither was I in control of the route - one simply had to accept that it was what it was. I had read about the stretch of moor and watched some videos to get a feel for the landmarks and terrain.

My mind did play back some of the times in ministry when I had felt not in control; the most painful of which had been with people who initially had acted as if they were wanting to be close supporters but who, over time, revealed that they had been operating their own agenda leading to conflict over issues of approach or direction.

Being in control suggests having the power and resources to overcome the chaos, but that is the role God plays.

From the waters of chaos you drew forth the world,
and in your great love, fashioned us in your image.

as I read each day in Morning Prayer. However, we can plan and prepare so as to mitigate the chaos, and thereby reduce the impact of our not being in control. I wondered whether it is fair to say that we tend to assume leadership is about the Godly exercise of power, rather than in the Christ-like embracing our weakness and accepting the reality of the chaos around?

It was later start today, that suited me with only 9 miles today. It started raining as I left Kingshouse toward Glencoe. I don’t normally do rainbow photos, but I couldn’t resist it looking towards Buachaille Etive Mor. The scenery was stunning, but for the first hour the path ran very close to the main A road north and there was lots of groups of walkers. I tried to focus on the mountains and clouds and not get distracted. Eventually the path veers right and starts to head up towards the skyline on the hills looking above. This is where the Old Military Road makes for a pass over the side of Glencoe over to Kinlochleven and is commonly known as The Devil’s Staircase. The path rises for some time before a series of switchbacks begin to overcome the steepest gradient. One could see the path stretching up and ahead by the bobbing and swaying luminous rain-covers on rucksacks.

I looked up and took a photo of the final stretch of the climb. I realised that my mind calmly tried to estimate the remaining distance to climb and could say to myself “another 20 minutes”, rather than wish I was the tall, athletic young man with the blue cover who had just strode effortlessly past me. Trusting my own ability to get there eventually is something I have learnt on this trip.

The climb was actually easier than the long descent into the town. For much of the way we were on a road connecting the hydro-electric station to the town - just steep enough to make you feel you need to brace yourself from going too quickly.

As I entered the town I chatted briefly with a lady tidying the front of the Salvation Army building. A cafe allowed a well-earned cup of tea. I sat and watched the river for some time before heading off to find my digs for the night.

West Highland Way…19 miles to Kingshouse

Sunday arrives, and my longest section of the trail by far, 19 miles distance and across some terrain that was wilder and more remote. Morning Prayer seemed to be emphasising the goodness of God, which made me aware of all the beauty and grandeur of this landscape also being tainted; the occasional pieces of rubbish lying around as well as the historic injustices that have taken place - the Highland clearances, for example.  Much of today will be on the Old Military Road, built in the 1750s to allow troops from the south to quell rebellious Scottish clans.

I had been awake in the night, a little anxious about the day. My biggest concern was that when I reached the latter third of the walk I would be so tired and, possibly, feeling alone and miserable that I would slow down further and not enjoy the experience.

I had breakfast as soon as the restaurant opened and was on the trail for 8. I had spent some of my time awake working out the times and distances to the, albeit few, obvious break points. The trail was quiet and relatively easy and so I was surprised to pass my first possible lunch stop by 11am, and so I keep on going from the Bridge of Orchy towards Inveroran. I knew this next section was tougher, gaining altitude into the mist, but I found myself at the Inveroran Lodge by 12. A cup of tea and a piece of cake were in order, along with a brief chat with walkers I’d met on previous days.

However, as I set out just after 12 the rain started and fell heavily for an hour. I felt ok in my rain gear, and tried to keep going and enjoy a sense of experiencing the elements and being able to keep moving. The track rose steadily through pine woodlands before emerging onto Rannoch Moor. The hills in the distance looked unfinished as the tops were lost in the cloud and I was alone to my thoughts. I walked alone with a few walkers ahead and behind. The trail was clear and obvious, so this was purely about perseverance and having faith that I was making progress.

I knew I was making good time, even though it was impossible to see any real features to use for a bearing. Finally, around 3:30, I rounded a headland and the approach to Glencoe opened in front of me. After walking without a frame of reference for so long, the ability to see the end point made me feel I was making no progress whatsoever, so slowly did the distant objects move closer.

By the time I had reached my room for the night, showered and eaten it was late and there was no Wi-Fi in the rooms. I allowed my tired body to grab an early night. I was glad of today. I couldn’t have learnt about keeping going and remaining contained within myself without actually walking that distance in the mist and rain.