West Highland Way - Day 4

April 9, Easter Sunday. Rowardennan to Tyndrum. 13.25 miles. 

Hello again, my friends. I am sitting - alone, but also with you - on a tall stool at a bar at the Real Food Cafe, sipping beer and eagerly awaiting my gluten free(!) fish and chips ( this restaurant won an award for the best fish and chips in Britain this year. They also boast of paying a living wage, serving ethically sustained and sourced fish and chips, and have an electric vehicle charger in the parking lot).  It’s quite crowded - looks like a mixture of local families and walkers and cyclists. 

Today was a relatively short and easy hike and my fourth day with no rain. Despite predictions that it would be overcast all day the sun absolutely broke through. But tomorrow - 19 mikes which at my slow pace means a minimum of 9 1/2 hours and that’s with no rest stops at all - is expected to be rainy. Not just a light drizzle. Serious rain. Which means, given a long walk without the shelter of trees, that I will get seriously wet. Rain gear helps of course but you simply can’t walk all day out in the open in rain and stay dry. My shoes and socks and very likely every layer of clothes will get wet. Now why, you might ask, as indeed I am asking myself, put yourself through this? Why not climb on a bus and arrive at Kinghouse dry? Now that is a very good question. Am i trying to prove to myself that I can do it? Is this a way to honor my Scottish ancestors by experiencing the real Scottish climate? Didn’t I know when I planned this walk, I tell myself, that it was likely to be cold and wet and windy? If I don’t walk tomorrow, what about the rest of the mostly rainy days in all the other walking days ahead? If I want to prove something to myself, it’s that I can walk through the wet and the cold and still experience the beauty and joy of being here in this place. Can I do it? I don’t know but I sure didn’t think I could walk through these past four days (of lovely weather) on my recently injured foot. How will I find out if I don’t try? And what a powerful metaphor for walking through depression, anxiety, my own and others’ and the whole world’s trauma, and keeping my eye on what is beautiful and contributes to joy. 

But back to today’s walk. I totally forgot it was Easter. Given my “come to Jesus” experience that introduced this walk and made it possible, that seems extraordinary. But my imagined Jesus doesn’t care. He’s been human (unlike his father) and doesn’t expect infallibility of either himself or of humans. He just loves the whole beautiful mess - as it is. He would - I am sure of it - encourage me to walk through the rain and look for what I can love in the experience. But I wander. Let’s talk about todays walk. 

I began as usual in the dark. I walked down the fire escape from my third floor room because the hotel’s doors were all locked. The manager warned me not to forget anything because there would be no way to get back in. Fortunately I did not. And she did not forget to move my suitcase from my room down to the baggage transfer shed. It showed up here this afternoon exactly as planned. This luggage transfer service seems a bit magical to me - like “poof” it disappears from where I was last night and reappears here at the end of a day’s walk. 

The walk. I enjoyed as always the transition into light. I was surprised to see the colors of sunrise and some blue sky - I had expected it to be too overcast for that. Here’s a collage of early morning photos. 

I think one of the most striking things I noticed in todays walk was how much I love Scottish rivers. It has to do with the colors and textures along the shores - mostly the rocks with their - I am not sure if they are layers or veins, I don’t know the geological language, but they are dramatic with a lot of contrast in colors and somehow juxtaposed with all the movement of the water, both the thrust of the forward flow and tumbling falls and the ripples in wider areas. I find it very moving. Both beautiful and dramatic. So I say to myself “I am a Scottish river! They are my relatives.”

I also discovered today that some of the sense of the land curving gently into and around itself that so captivated me in the lowlands can also be felt in the highlands. 

I found myself loving the trees and the forest parts of today’s walk though I confess I loved them best when the sun came out. 

I like the old arched stone bridges too. And they look just as good in overcast weather as in sun, I think. 

So maybe I will end with a photo of reflections in a river and we can think of this as reflections in a river reflected in a river …. Maybe it can go on and on like in the mirrors in a dressing room where we see images reflecting themselves reflecting themselves on and on and on. Reflection - whether in words or in pictures - is truly one of the great joys of a solo adventure like this walk (or like life itself?)

Thank you for your company and your encouragement. And just a reminder - If my words or photos stir up memories, thoughts, or feelings that you are willing to share, I would love to hear from you. 

See you tomorrow for our long slog through a whole lot of rain (also a colder day - highs in 40s whereas they’ve been in the 50s for my walk so far). Nevermind tomorrow: for Wednesday they are predicting highs in the 30s and snow! (Wednesday will be my 7th and last day on the West Highland Way - then Thursday will be a day of rest before heading on for the Great Glen Way and the Speyside Way). 

See you tomorrow. Don’t forget your rain gear.