a pilgrimage of sorts

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.

West Highland Way planning (part 1)

I have begun the planning for my trip. I have watched quite a few videos of people's success in completing the walk - they have been helpful as it helps one get to know something of the terrain and possible weather!

 

It is also helpful seeing someone's failure, and honest appraisal for the reasons. RoguePixel mentions three in particular on her first attempt. She is right to highlight the need for looking after one's feet. I will be using boots I walk in almost every day, and in which I did my week's walking in the Dolomites last June. I learnt a lot about blister control and pacing oneself on the circumstances ahead. I have invested in some new merino wool liner socks, so will give them a thorough test before packing.

Her second mistake was in relation to the weight of her pack and her fitness. I am slowly working on building up distance walked, and with running as well I am optimistic I will be ok on this. However, I would like to enjoy the walking as much as possible. I am re-using as much kit as I can from previous walking and camping trips, but have bought some new items as, even though I will only be walking with my day pack, there is no point getting soaking wet for the whole time.

She points out mistakes in the route planning, both getting lost at one stage (thereby vastly increasing the day's milage) but also in setting oneself hopelessly optimistic targets for each day. I will have set destinations for each day rather than relying on wild camping, so I will need to be careful about some of the required distance on the rockier paths alongside Loch Lomond, for example.

I will watch her second "fail" video with interest. Was thrilled she completed it on her third attempt.

There is an important additional piece of planning for me. I am reading Belden Lane's Backpacking with the Saints and have a stack of further books to get through as I will be trying to tie my experience of walking in with some studying for my MA.

To travel hopefully...

...is a better thing than to arrive

according to Robert Louis Stevenson.

Sadly, plans for most of us with travel in 2020 (and seemingly well into 2021 as well) have been well and truly kiboshed. The Silk Road still has a draw; that mix of history, religions, politics, art and architecture, but this is now stored on the back burner for the time being.

As lockdown eases I may dip into one of my Christmas presents and seek some sort of pilgrimage within the UK. I'm still not convinced that it actually was Saint Augustine who said

The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only one page.

but even so, it still says something important. The question in my mind as I think about this sort of trip is whether I have lost the ability to do something like this as an act of solitude, especially if I was camping en route.

 

The best place to start a new adventure...

Thoughts begin to gather about the next destination for a pilgrimage of sorts...

...and where better place to start than in the beautiful Daunt's Books.

My first presentation of my thoughts and reflections on the Uganda trip

I spoke at St Chad's Church on Palm Sunday, using my reflection and photographs from the Uganda trip as a way of unpacking how my Lent had been this year.

The easiest way of synchronising the audio and the images seemed to be to make a video.

The question everybody seems to ask...

Would you go again?

Yes, er..no..er, maybe.

It's complicated...

Yes, I would go again. I felt tremendously privileged to be given such access to an amazing country and people, not least because of the contacts made possible by those in and around our group. Other than the last few days when we did the game drives, it felt like we were not on the tourist trail and we were really able to get to know the people. As a photographer it was the first time I have been in a place where people generally act so openly towards being photographed. In the UK, the camera has become an object of suspicion and people are wary of being pictured as evidence of something. In Uganda there was delight, and not just from the children, as we took a photo and then showed the image on the back of the camera.

No, I wouldn't go again. I suppose I would be concerned about going back to Uganda and not having that same opportunity to spend each day concentrating on a place and trying to capture it in a RAW file. I certainly don't think I could go back on an off the shelf tourist package to do 'gorillas in the mist' et al. Neither do I think I could go back on one of the "mission trips" to build a maternity hospital or the like. It would seem far more fruitful to pay a local to build it so there is employment AND a hospital.

Maybe? I spoke to Francis, one of our drivers, and there would certainly be a way of going back and having a different experience but keeping the important elements that, even with two months of reflecting since I got back, energise my interest and desire to photograph. I would like to return to be able to spend some more time in the landscape, but for a whole host of good reasons, that was difficult on this trip...so, maybe. I was also inspired by the people I saw who were actively committed to changing their nation; not necessarily at the political level, but those who were building schools - that was certainly impressive.

I have started writing the next series of posts in which I hope to show some of the photographs that I brought back that I am really pleased with - not necessarily "exhibition" quality (a technically pleasing image which speaks for itself without the need for any external explanation). Some of them, inevitably, will be in those posts because they stir in me a memory of a moment or a person that I wish to retain.

 

Monday 5th February 2018 - the long and winding road

Our final day and another early start. We needed to be back at Paraa for the ferry so we left Pakuba by 6:45. The ferry does some early runs for workers and then closes until the tourists arrive. We needed to be on the road and get some miles under our belts. We crossed the river watching the sunrise.

We had a choice of routes for the return trip to Entebbe. We could re-trace most of our northward journey, better roads but it meant going the long way round the National Park. Our choice, therefore, was to head across the Nile at Paraa and then take the dirt roads south across the park to Masindi, cutting off the big dog-leg. The park south of the Nile is far more forested and if there were animals in any great abundance they were well hidden in the foliage.

We were in for a long journey, so the best thing was to hunker down with a book or music, or chat with whoever was in the next seat in the van. I tried to doze where possible, but was aware that we were in for some 30 hours on the road (or in the air) with a stop-over near the airport. The drivers continued to do a great job of coping with the state of the roads and some of the less careful other road users.

The town of Masindi felt like a bit of a shock after three days in the park and leaving the town we hit the Kampala-Masindi road on its south-easterly. After about 40 kms we entered the little town of Kibangya where we joined the Kampala-Gulu road we had driven up five days previously. We stopped soon after at the Kabalega Diner. We had to go through metal detectors between the cars and the diner - the owners were concerned about the activities of El-Shabaab, although we didn't see anything like this anywhere else.

We had a bit of a game going - who could clear themselves our their Ugandan Shillings in time for our departure. I spent some of my final notes on a decent coffee and then a large, chilled bottle of water. Returning to my seat I noticed that the top didn't have either a plastic film cover or a seal around the cap. In fact the cap was slightly split as if it had been screwed on more than once. I returned it was was given one with a proper seal. Better safe than sorry!

We shared the Ugandan papers around the table, and I read the article about allegations of corruption between the OPM and UNHCR in the Daily Monitor. I have to say I did feel crestfallen that the amazing work we saw and people we had shared time with was, in some way, tarnished. Does the actions of a few diminish the efforts of those who work from the next of motives? A question many need to consider in the light of the recent revelations about Oxfam and ONE!

We got to Kampala and the traffic was building, even more so as we got around to Entebbe. Seemingly, this was the first day back for many of the big schools and so there were more cars on the road as a result. Our van was in front, but we pulled to one side to allow a police convoy to pass us, blue lights and sirens going. The other van had tucked in behind them and tailgated them through the lines of traffic which had made way for the police. A car pulled out in almost directly front of us and Francis had to brake and take avoiding action - probably the only moment on the trip that I ought we might have an accident.

We arrived a the Boma by 2:15, 7½ hours after leaving Pakuba. The hotel had been where we had spent our first night in Uganda, and they kindly offered us a room and access to their lounge and restaurant as we awaited our flight home at a few minutes before midnight. We had a light lunch first, and then stretched and rested. We needed to use the internet to check-in for our flight to Brussels.

Chris, Alan and I went for a walk down to Faze 3, a cafe overlooking the end of the airport and out over Lake Victoria, so we sat on the large veranda and enjoyed a passion fruit juice.

Back the the Boma, I opted for a final tilapia and chips for supper and with a fairly minimal bar bill I handed over my complete stock of remaining Ugandan Shillings.

Security at the airport was noticeable. The van was checked as we entered the drop off area, and baggage was checked by X-ray machine as we entered the concourse. Entebbe is not the busiest or best equipped airport I have been to, and so late into the evening we sat at a cafe table and waited for the call for our flight to Brussels.

Somewhere over the Sahara I watched a film and tried unsuccessfully to get some sleep. The screen on the back of the seat in front showed our progress north, parallel with the Nile up through Egypt, and then across the Mediterranean and up the Adriatic. I kept my earbuds in and some gentle music on my iPad and dozed in and out. We arrived in Brussels before sunrise and with something like a 40^oC temperature difference from when we boarded the plane eight hours earlier. I had thought to bring some Euros, so buying coffee and pastries was easy and we had hours to kill.

The flight from Brussels to Bristol is short, the view from the starboard windows on our approach showed our housing development below the clouds.

It was certainly good to be over home turf. The experience of Uganda had been so full on; the sights and sounds of the place plus the constant awareness needed for simple things like decent water and food. I had hardly felt any jet lag on the way out despite the three hour time difference because of this having to be constantly alert and there being a full programme of activities to absorb and photograph.

It was a relief of sorts to be able to text family to let them know I was home, to tip the entire contents of my suitcases into the wash basket and to soak in the bath. The fine Ugandan orange dust was visible on the bottom of the bath after the water had drained out. Great trip - but good to be home! Our journey over the last day and a half could be measured in the thousands of miles, but the distance travelled by emotions can't be so easily calculated. I am looking forward to time to think, process and write.

Despite this being the story of the last day of the pilgrimage, there will be some more posts as I continue to unpack and learn. Thanks for reading (so far).

 

 

 

Sunday 4th February 2018 - a walk on the wild side

Inevitably, our last full day of photography had to come around. I joined the early trip out so that I might finally get to use the large tripod I had brought with me and try some of my graduated filters so I could get a good sunrise shot. Walter directed us to an ideal location - close to the road but with reasonable foreground, trees in the distance and a wide open sky. We revelled in the silence and stillness as we watched the sky gain in colour and brightness, before the sun became visible on the horizon. There was nobody around - only the nine of us plus drivers. It was perfect.

Having watched and photographed the sun and the colour of the clouds, we returned for breakfast and then we gathered to share our thoughts and celebrate Communion together; simply and quietly.

It was still in the high 30s, so we dozed after lunch. Our plan for later was to split into two groups. One would take the vans and head out for a final game drive, and the remaining four of us were to meet a guide and we would walk up past Amin's old lodge and into the bush beyond. We were introduced to Deo. He was a young man with a rifle. We were told that they would only have one bullet, so I asked him how much ammunition he was carrying

I have a round...[mild panic on my part as he looks to the sky thoughtfully]...I have around thirty [phew]

We left the lodge and walked south along the dirt road, before cutting into the scrub up to the ruins. The building had clearly been built to impress, a snaking S shape along the brow of the hill with sweeping views of the Nile, but Amin is not remembered with affection and his palace is just being left to fall down - for the present at least. The roof and windows were long gone, but the walls still showed evidence of expensive taste and skilled craftsmen.

We had been up this way on a previous drive. The track runs close to the ruins on the eastern side and then follows the walls around along the southern side for a distance. When we did this in the vans we had met a man setting up a field camera which would take photos or videos if it detected motion, as we were led to believe there was a leopard with cubs somewhere close by. As we retraced this route on foot Deo made us be as quiet as possible. He signalled for us to stop and look up - several of us got a fleeting glimpse of leopard fur as the big cat saw us and slipped quickly away, deeper into the buildings. Deo was concerned about this. Leopards are ambush killers, so he thought the cat was probably assuming we were going to walk around to the other side, as we had done in the vehicles, and that would leave us vulnerable to an attack. He led us quickly away from the building and down the slopes heading east. I couldn't help but glance nervously over my shoulder to see if there was any following movement in the long grass on either side.

At the bottom of the slope we could relax our pace and take in the view ahead of us. A sweeping 180^o vista lay before us, gently sloping up to the horizon. The left hand side was predominantly grassland with trees dotted around. Deer and antelope could be seen in quite large number. In the mid-ground ahead of us Deo spotted a hyena with its dirty brown coat and stubby semi-circular almost Mickey Mouse-like ears. It too had seen the antelope, and was making its way across ahead of us towards them. The right hand side of the landscape we faced was more wooded and spread down to the side of the Nile, flashes of reflections from which could be seen through the trees. We made our way forward through grass and thorn bushes, still alert to the possibility of a predator close by, and stopped to watch the hyena disturb the antelope, now some way away over to our left.

We were still making our way gently towards the river. Nearing the shore, the trees became a little denser and we could hear and the see elephants in quite some number. Some were heading to our right towards the water, a large male was moving in the opposite direction, presumably now fully rehydrated. We counted over 50 in an arc ahead of us; a few individuals, more in what we presumed were family groups and one larger cluster in the trees. We daren't approach too close, and so we couldn't take the types of photographs we had been able to on our arrival at the Park, but the moment was far too profound to capture in 20 megapixels. Standing and watching these creatures - gentle and gracious despite their size - was captivating. What threads of DNA and behaviour, I wondered, connected us through our common mammalian ancestry?

In time we moved towards the river. We could see fishermen out in the waters, but we were aware we were blocking the route of a small group of elephants wanting to follow the bank, so we withdrew.

Deo had us approach the ruined lodge cautiously and from a different direction. Trying to climb the gravel inclines silently was a challenge. Nothing was stirring so we continued back towards where we had first seen the leopard, although at a greater distance. Sure enough, there on a window ledge, we could see the male leopard lying with a paw dangling casually over the edge. He might have appeared asleep, but we could make out his eye opening and checking us out as we focused our long lenses on him.

We tried to get a good shot but the angles were against us. We retreated back towards our own lodge with a sense of triumph and with full hearts. Deo told us of the time he was driving through the park on his motorcycle and a leopard jumped out from a bush, knocking him to the ground. In the fall he was unable to grab his rifle, so he stood looking at the beast before yelling as loud as he could. The animal retreated into the bushes. Deo said that if he hadn't been wearing a helmet then he almost certainly would have been a goner. He wore a wristband saying 'Jesus is my saviour' in memory of that encounter.

We reconvened with our colleagues over supper. They had been present at a lion kill. We had seen the elusive leopard. Honours even.

 

Saturday 3rd February 2018 - Parklife and the Falls

It had been a hot and sticky night with little movement of air. I was aware of Alan getting up to go on the early morning sunrise and game drive trip, but I couldn't muster the energy to get up and needed some space to sort my bags and clothes.

The early venturers returned and we had breakfast together at 8 as we had to be off promptly to the Paraa Lodge where we were to spend a relaxing morning with shade and downtime before out afternoon expedition up the river. We broke into groups as the mood took us; some sitting by the pool, others nestling indoors whilst the rest of us sat under a large brolly at a table outside for coffee. Near the table was a bank down into the trees and we were aware of noises coming from down in the shadows. A group of warthogs were snuffling through the leaves and grass seeking out their lunch.

As part of our lunch package we had permission to use the pool, which some of us did. We swam and splashed about for a while, posing for photos and enjoying a cold Pepsi served from the thatched bar at the side. Lunch was buffet style, but quite reasonable nonetheless up on the veranda with a better view down to the ferry and quay from where our boat trip would begin. At the far end of the veranda was a large group of Chinese, presumably not the ones who built the roads, and next to us was a group of Americans we got into conversation with. They were on a Mission trip helping to build a hospital. They came every year and spent their final day at Paraa to unwind.

The vans took us down to the quay and we embarked onto our boat. We had a trip of around 10 kms upstream and then, if we wanted to walk up to the Falls themselves we would have to disembark and make the last kilometre or so on foot. The Nile varies in width at this point, several hundred meters in most places and up to 10 mtr deep in the middle. Several boats seemed to be heading up at around the same time, so our pilot took us across the river for a safety briefing. It was reassuring to know that there were life vests under our seats, but slightly less reassuring was the advice that if the boat capsized then the best thing would be to swim to the middle and await rescue. If you swam to the bank then the crocodiles would probably get you first.

There was a great variety of wildlife in the water and on the banks. Crocodiles lay in the shade and birds flitted from branch to branch. Hippos watched us lazily from the shallower patches. Milton, our guide and skipper, was quick to spot them and point them out. Being the only boat around we were able to make our way at our own pace and get some good close up shots.

We continued our easterly heading and the river wove from side to side ahead of us, but in the distance a row of hills became clear. It was through this escarpment that, at some point, the Nile had to pass. Flecks of foam began to appear in the water, steadily increasing in size and frequency as we drew closer to the cataract...and then it came into view. Even in the distance it was impressive; not so much in height but in ferocity. 300 m³ of water per second funnelled into a chasm a little over 7 mtrs wide.

The boat drew up to a landing point and we met Emmanuel, the guide who would walk us up to the Falls. It was 38^oC and we each took a large bottle of water. Several of the group remained in the boat for the return trip.

I had been looking forward to photographing the Falls for some time, and had done some research online to see what were the common views and shots - I was determined to try to get something different. We followed the trail along the southern bank, climbing up to the top of the rocks. Emmanuel knew his stuff and we stopped at regular intervals for a drink and to catch our breath, and to admire the benefits of different viewpoints. I got a reasonable shot from a rocky promontory down at river level, but struggled as we climbed higher - there was a wonderful view as in which the spray caught the sunlight and the rainbow effect was magnificent...but I couldn't find a space without a lot of grass in the way. Almost at the top a walkway heads back along the escarpment edge, and we could see the main falls and the Freedom Falls which run around to one side. Finally we descended slightly to the rocks alongside the main force of the Falls and I was able to catch one shot that I liked.

John, one of our drivers, was waiting in the car park as agreed and was able to drive us back along the tracks to the other side of the Paraa ferry.

We waiting for the ferry and boarded as foot passengers, crossing the Nile and watching the hippo heads bob in the sunset reflecting waters. Getting back to the lodge before dark was a real race and we could see dramatic areas of fire at different points, as the natural cycle of grassfire and rebirth continued unabated.