Blood And Bandages

So … If you were reading the blogs about my walk on the West Highland Way last week, I need to apologise.

First off, apparently it wasn’t clear to some that every days description was written ahead of time, as though I had access to a Time Machine. Yes, it was all a figment of my imagination.

Secondly … well, it turns out that my imagination is pretty poor at predicting the future. Suffice to say that the actual experience was nothing at all like the prophecies that I wrote so confidently in the week leading up to the walk.

I will probably, definitely, possibly, maybe write more about the whole experience. It wasn’t quite a week of Blood And Bandages. But there were casualties. And suffering. And emotional wounds.

There were some good bits too. And we all survived, it must be said.

There are also a lot of lessons learned or needing to be learnt. By me anyway.

I just need some time to process it all … :-)

Like Minds

The travelling of time ends today. We finish, in theory, the West Highland Way.

So, we’re on the final stretch to Fort William and our train back to civilisation. One thing we’ve had plenty of time for on this nearly completed walk, is time to chat.

And we’ve discovered, as we talked, that in many areas we are all Like Minds.

But often it was the Not Like Minds that made everything more interesting. Not knowing what we were going to see each day made for a wonderful walk. And not agreeing with each other about everything made for some brilliant, albeit sometimes tense, conversations.

Are we still all friends (and family!)?

Of course.

This is the world we live in. The one we have to constantly learn to live in. Vive la difference! And bring on the next challenge. That was a humdinger.

Everything Is Wasted

Back to the future WHW, once more my friends…

And back to the clearances I spoke about yesterday. It wasn’t just people. Scotland was once covered with trees. And not those non-native Sitka Spruce deserts. It was very different then. Native Caledonian conifers and wild oaks, hazels, rowans, beech and birch were a large part of an immensely rich landscape.

Attempts are being made (where mass land ownership by wealthy absent owners allows) to restore some of that previous heritage.

But still.

Today we’re walking through the modern day version of Scotland on our way past Kinlochleven. It’s got an epic beauty, no doubt. Yet a time traveller, like myself, but from 300 years ago, would think, looking around at this present day “classic” highland scenery, that Everything Is Wasted.

It’s food for thought.

Weaver’s Bay

My Tardis informed WHW. It’s all written in the past. But it could be true!

Today is our longest hike. Nineteen dang miles. We’re looking forward to a bit of luxury at the end of it all though. A bunkhouse/hotel. Hot showers. Not that we stink. Oh no! But anyway, a nice respite from Tent Land, before our last two days of walking.

And here’s a thing. This constant walking feels like a bit of suffering by our standards. But have a listen to Weaver’s Bay, and imagine what it must have been like during the clearances here in Scotland. People forced to leave their very homes and leave for a completely uncertain future in another land.

I’m imagining that today. This little ramble is a relative walk in the park. Any one of those involuntary migrants would have swapped places with me, without hesitation.

I’m a lucky bugger.

Everything On Gold

So what’s been happening today (in my imagination) on the West Highland Way…

Fortunately, to survive, we don’t have to put Everything On Gold.

As wild walks go, the WHW is relatively tame. For instance there are lots of places to fill up with water and a lot of out of the way little tuck shops, with nobody there, except for an honesty box. Try that one in London!

It’s refreshing that this kind of honesty and trust is still around in these “interesting” times. And it’s literally refreshing to get a bottle of cold (ish) fresh orange when you’re tired after having already walked for ten miles.

The views have been fantastic. And being away from the madding crowd is also wonderful. But people, it’s good to be reminded, can be very decent, given half a chance.

Ranches And Mansions

Back to the future West Highland Way…

Tents. They’re a home of a sort. We are creatures of comfort of course. Not used to sleeping so CLOSE to the outside world. Not used to NOT HAVING a slumberdown, goose feathered, body hugging mattress.

Tents are not Ranches And Mansions.

We may or we may not acclimatise. But either way, we’re stuck with them.

And there is a beauty in hearing the rain patter so close to your head without getting wet. A beauty in hearing a Tawny Owl close by. And the wind in the trees. Of being further from civilisation than usual.

I can overlook the little bit of aching, and the not quite enough sleep. It’s a price worth paying. See you tomorrow.

Too Much Of Everything

Welcome back to the WHW Tardis!

Well, it’s raining already. Yep. Inevitability is a thing. And we’re doing actual hilly bits today. But it’s fair to say that we’re not yet at the point where it’s all …

Too Much Of Everything

Maybe that moment will come, further down the line. We’ll soon be at Balmaha, where we hope to meet up with songwriting blues guitarist, Dave Arcari, and then along a part of Loch Lomond to Rowardennan. That’s where we’ll be losing three of our number. The part-timers! From ten down to the seven who will hopefully make it all the way.

We’ve just climbed Conic Hill, so I’m a little bit out of breath. It’s tougher with a rucksack of course. So you’ll forgive me for stopping to enjoy the view for a while…

Angus

For the next week, welcome to my Time Machine as I write my imaginations regarding the experiences I may or may not be having while doing the walk I am not doing right at this moment, but will be doing once we enter our West Highland Way Tardis thingy. I’m going to have to wangle my song titles into this. Could be tricky. Three, two, one…. Atomize!

So here we are walking happily from Milngavie to Drymen on the first day of our walk. Unlike my original forecast, we are experiencing blue skies. Everyone (almost … there’s bound to me a moaner ….could be me) is in good spirits.

And why wouldn’t we be. The sky is blue…look there’s an Aberdeen Angus frollicking in a field…. and we’re fairly skipping along. We’ve already escaped the northern outreaches of Glasgow, and though the world renowned Highlands aren’t upon us quite yet, we are content.

Only 10 more miles to Drymen. Only 96 more to Fort William. It’s gonna be a doddle.

Indian Summer

I don’t know about an Indian Summer. I’m expecting more of a Scottish Spring over the next week as we start to walk the 100 miles of the West Highland Way tomorrow. Our Irregular Spring is coming to an end.

Dry would be nice, but it likely ain’t gonna happen.

And that’s what happens.

I’ve got organiser nerves. Where are we eating? Will we survive the midges? How will we cope with the wet? Are we well enough equipped? And so on.

Mostly I want everyone to enjoy it. But whatever happens, it will be another chapter in the Great Happening.

See you from my Tardis Writing Desk on the way from Milngavie to Drymen tomorrow ;-)

Miss You When You Go

“Miss You When You Go"…

… that’s what we often hope that people will think of us. That’s what I might have once hoped that Ineke would be thinking tomorrow, when I head off on my big adventure with an all male crew for our walk of the West Highland Way starting Friday.

But really … I don’t hope that anymore. If she thinks about me, I hope it brings nice thoughts of course. Just because I hope she has nice thoughts. They’re better than the other kind.

It doesn’t need to be of me though. It could be of anything. Maybe she doesn’t give my absence a second glance for the 8 or 9 days I’m gone.

Missing someone, or something, will always be a part of the human experience. But it brings a sense of loss. And that shouldn’t be a given. True love wouldn’t wish that experience upon someone else.

Would it?

Potatoman

Sometimes I’ll drive you mental
Sometime’s I drive a van
Occasionally I’m up in space
I go there when I can

I try to keep myself awake
That’s usually the plan
But sometimes I’ve been let down
By weed and temazepan.

I like to be outdoors a lot
I’ll find myself a view
And when the sunshine shines as well
The view is often blue

You’ll often find me writing songs
I’m regular with bran
But don’t ask for help to build your shed
I’m not a handyman

In my head I’m fit and sound
You could call me He-man
More often, when snacks abound
I’m Fried Potatoman


Well, I rhyme words like scan and flan
And ban and span and gran
It’s hard to do it all the time
Coz there are only so many out there.

Forty Two

There’s a number that will certainly fix
Your particular problem quite quick
It’s called Forty Two
And it’s the answer for you
If you’re looking for seven times six.

Your Couldn’t Care Less Heart

Today’s Sunday Song is the new release by another long time songwriting friend, Murray Webster.

Your Couldn’t Care Less Heart is a completely self made project, video ‘n all. Murray, as well as being a very talented songwriter and musician, is also the founder of London Songwriters, introducing and helping develop the craft of songwriting with a large number of very grateful students.

The song (and recording) is excellent, and gets a big tip of my hat. Albeit that my hat is not as cool as Murray’s ….

Shine On You

Shine On You crazy thing.
Shine on when the night is falling
And the song is ending
Shine on when you don’t want to.
You can’t help it you mad fool.
It’s a light that cannot go out.
Even if you wanted it to.
It’s powered by life.

And you are the torch.

So shine on.

Suspicious

It’s Suspicious.

The Skies have been blue for forever. It’s been lovely. But it can’t last. It’s got to stop sometime.

And it is gonna stop :(.

Next week apparently, according to weather reports. Just when I’m about to start a week long walk along the West Highland Way, with my Boys and a couple of friends, camping en-route.

*Shakes fist at the Sky. *

“Why Me!!!!?????” WHYYYYYYYY!

Doh! I’m complaining before I’ve even started.

That’s the spirit!

ps. I’m really looking forward to it though. It’s to celebrate me turning Sixty, and I’m very grateful to the victi…volunteers who are joining me.

Sauly

I’m excited to be taking Sauly on a little bushcraft weekend next month. We’re going to be learning how to make shelter and fire together. Like real men! LOL.

It’s to celebrate his tenth birthday. All being well I’m hoping to do something similar with all the grandweans when they reach that landmark. Male or female!

And Saul is the eldest.

Being the eldest is not something you choose, as I well know. It doesn’t guarantee you any extra respect. It shouldn’t really. After all, you didn’t get any choice in the matter.

But it does, sometimes, make you feel more responsible. Again, not really something that you should feel (you didn’t get any choice….etc) but it seems to come with the territory.

I know that Saul is a great brother and an excellent example to his younger siblings anyway. I hope they maintain their healthy relationships with each other for life. It’s not always a given by any means.

But it’s a great blessing to have, I think.

Fog

The skies outside of my window couldn’t be clearer. It goes on forever.

Fog too, has been, and will come again. It closes in.

Yet the space inside my tiny brain is infinite. And it can encompass both these realities.

Or … it can be the prison that tries to capture them both. Either by trying to hold onto my concepts of reality (impossible) or, if unpleasant, by pushing them deep into an even tinier solitary confinement in that same tiny brain (they will escape).

It’s better when I don’t treat my brain as a prison, and myself as the guard, who both guards and is contained by that same prison.

Space is big. And so is consciousness.

ps. And so is my ability to aim at something with my brain and not quite hit what I’m aiming at. But hey, practise makes perfect.

It’s A Beautiful Game

Life can seem very serious. It can feel very serious. We can carry the weight of it all, very heavily, on our shoulders.

At times like that I’m trying to see that, in reality, It’s A Beautiful Game. Just that. It has a beginning and an end. There are winning days and losing days. But the weight of it all, the good and the bad, is mainly in our imagination.

In a game we roll the dice and then we let go. We see which numbers come up, then we take our turn as best we are able.

It’s always been this way.

Let’s play. :-)

This Is The Life

Well, she did it again. My amazing wife Ineke finished another mini-triathlon this morning, beating last years time by more than 4 minutes.

She’s seizing that nettle of life, and getting every last bit of, um, nettle juice, out of it. And why wouldn’t you? However you choose to do it.

This week’s Sunday Song is This Is The Life by Amy McDonald.

Jack Sorrow

We’re on a roll.

Jack Sorrow is here to ensure that we continue to remember The Great Bearer of the Terminal Scythe. The Dark Knight of Impermanence. The Herald of All Endings. Yes, Death continues to cast its shadow over these here blogs. He (or She!) is inescapable, and will not be silenced.

Also, according to Jack Sorrow, Death has feelings too.

So, please, a bit of sympathy for the one who bears responsibility for the ending of all life forms. A little bit of respect.

And also some appreciation for the way that Death always manages to give the glory, all of it, to Life itself. By keeping Life short, Death ensures that we cannot help but value its existence.

Thank you Sir (or Madam!).