B&Bs, Highland Beef, and Hunting Stags

As I wrote before, I'm taking my zero day at a B&B in Morvich. The owners here, David and Hazel, have been absolutely incredible. Given my kind of awkward situation where I don't have a car or really any plans in Morvich besides resting, they have been very kind to me. Hazel made me lunch today, which was an unexpected but very appreciated meal. On top of that, she said that I could eat supper with them! I had no idea what a feast it would be.

Homemade Yorkshire pudding, highland beef, roasted potatoes, carrots, broccoli, and Scottish whiskey

After supper, David said that he would drive me down the road to the old castle that was part of a clan feud a long time ago. The same cadtle used to film Highlander, the Sean Connery film. So we drove down on a beautiful night in the mountains and took some photos.

On our way back home from the castle, David got a call that two stags he had been watching were in one of his fields, and he said he would be over in a minute to "waste them". This would be the equivalent of us saying "take them", so don't read it as overly malicious, but rather just the matter of fact nature of farmers. David isn't only a farmer, but also a "business adventurer", in his own words. He and Hazel have several hundred sheep, lots of cows, the B&B, a taxi and tour service, and they drive the local school kids.

Needless to say, I was excited that David was going for the stags, and so I asked of I could tag along, as long as it wouldn't be an imposition. He said it was fine, and off we went.

David made little work of the two deer, red deer is the type, and before dark we had cleaned them, put away the chickens, and fed the lambs. Then it was into the kitchen for a wee dram of whiskey and conversation before bed. If this isn't an authentic Scottish experience, I have no idea what is.

 

 

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An Unexpected Turn

Well, this is not a post that I expected to be writing, but here I am writing it. I've decided to come off the Cape Wrath Trail for safety reasons. Many things contributed to this decision, and after 3 days and 50 miles of actually walking the trail, I feel as if I made the right choice. To start, I didn't meet a single local Scot who didn't tell me that I was foolish and stupid for going into those hills alone. The weather here can change at an instant, from sunshine to hail and gale force winds. One older Scottish man that I met said, "You're fucking nuts! The English come up here every year, with their big heavy rucksacks, and go into the hills... and many of them die." An older Englishman told me, "You could be on a trail that you know intimately well, but then when the rain starts pissing on you, and you can't see, you can get lost and die."

I came over here pretty optimistic, knowing that it was a hard trail but confident in my gear and my abilities. Anyone who knows me knows that I love to talk to people, and so rest assured that I've talked to plenty. With each person who warned me against doing it alone, and each hour that spent looking at trail maps and my guide, I began to get a very deep uneasy feeling inside my soul. It was just a bad feeling... unshakeable. I ignored it and walked for three days, to see how it went.

This trail. It's unmarked and remote. Often you're days away from the nearest person, and the trail conditions add to the mess. I found out on my second day of hiking the Cape Wrath Trail that the "bogs" I read about in my guide are quite real, and quite more formidable than I expected. They aren't just bogs that you walk past and say, "Aye, glad I'm not in them." No. Because sometimes there is no path, you have to forge your own way. I found out quickly that what looks like solid, sure ground is actually bog that I sunk into up to my mid-thigh. This wasn't a one-time misstep, but every other step for miles. Fatigue wasn't the issue, nor the heavy pack on my back. Even my spirits weren't the issue, thanks to prayer and hymns. The issue was wet boots and socks; safety.

I got into the worst of the bogs on day 2, between Laggan and the bridge over the river Garry, and my boots only got wetter during the rain that night. The next day, hiking from the river Garry to Claunie, about 14 miles with 1100 meters of ascent, my feet, which had already started to blister, got in trouble. One of my blisters opened, and others were close. There wasn't really anything I could do. If I changed my socks, the new ones would only get wet from the shoes. My main worry was the fact that the bogs I was trudging through are filled with sheep and deer feces, and with each new rush of bog juice that surged into my shoes I knew that I had a very real chance of getting an infection. I pushed on, knowing that if I made it to Claunie, where there's an inn, I could get a room, have a bath, clean my feet, and figure out what to do.

Well, the inn at Claunie didn't have a bed for me, but when the woman realized how concerned I was for my feet, which were still in there bacteria-ridden Salomons, she called around and found a B&B in Morvich, 16 miles up the road, and her husband gave me a ride there. The hosts here were waiting and ushered me straight to a bath and then to my room. Sitting on my bed, clean but unable to walk without limping, I was forced to confront this deep feeling of unrest that had been with me for the last several days. I knew that the advice I had been getting, along with the deepest gut instinct I've ever felt, were telling me that I need to change course. This, along with my maps and guide that show me the terrain and remoteness are only significantly worse from here. I called my parents and several others, and with each person I talked to I felt assured that it was the right decision to come off the trail... and that it was okay.

So, now what's next? Well, I'm pretty thankful that I have two really good options. I don't want to just sit in a pub for the next 2 weeks, so I've decided on two other trails. Today is Monday, and I'm taking a zero day for my blisters to heel before I get a bus start the other trails. The Great Glen Way and the West Highland Way are both National Trails that are marked and established. Sure the Scottish rain will still be a factor, but given that I'm alone with no mobile, these two trails will allow me to keep hiking in Scotland, but in a way that isn't life threatening. If I were to become injured, for example, I would be found within a few hours rather than a few days. Thankfully I don't have to change the title of this blog. Ha. I'm still walking, I just changed my route. The Great Glen way is from Fort William to Inverness, 72 miles, and the West Highland Way is 95 miles from Fort William to Glasgow. One day I would like to come back for the walk to Cape Wrath, with a partner and better boots. But this just isn't the time.

 

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3 Days on the Cape Wrath Trail

This entry will describe my first 3 days of the Cape Wrath Trail, but make sure to read the post "An Unexpected Turn" to get an important update on the trip.

Day 1: Fort William to Clunes

This route is a popular alternative start to the CWT that actually shares the first day with the Great Glen Way (GGW). The first several miles were pretty uninspiring, as walking in a city tends to be, but it got prettier with each step into the country. Just outside Fort William, in Banavie, is Neptune's Staircase, a series of 8 locks that raise and drop ships 64 feet to and from sea level. The walk was along the Caledonian Canal, which is a remarkable waterway. At Gairlochy the path crossed a small lock and entered into some beautiful forest, and the gaps in the trees gave a great vista of the North West side of Ben Nevis, the highest peak in Britain.

The woods past Gairlochy

The NW side of Ben Nevis

After about 17 miles, I ended my day on the shores of Loch Lochy. I set up camp and cooked a hot supper of Scottish broth and tuna (hey, everything tastes good hiking). It was a beautiful campsite, and it was probably one of the clearest days I'll ever see here.

Setting Up Camp

Loch Lochy

Home Sweet Home

 

Day 2: Clunes to Garrygualach

I had originally planned to walk from Clunes to Laggan for a short day, but when I got there in two hours, I realized I had made much better time than I expected. It was only 1:30 when I arrived in Laggan, so I stopped to let my feet breathe. During my lunch, that bad feeling (the one described in "An Unexpected Turn") hit me really hard. I began to have a kind of panic attack because of the anxiety and unrest. Thankfully a hostel in Laggan had wifi that I bummed from outside and I called John. We had a good talk, and though he told me to stop for the day and think about it, I decided to press on to my destination just past Garrygualach. I had now separated from the GGW, and there wasn't a soul to be seen. My first 12km or so for Laggan were along a forestry track that passes through 2 small "villages" before a "footpath" appears along the river Garry. I put these words in quotes, because that isn't at all what was actually on the ground. The first "village" was as I expected it, a few little farm buildings and a farmer's house. After that, the track began to get worse and worse until it ultimately disappeared just as the ruins of the second "village" came into sight. With no track or path, I forged my way up to the ruins looking for a path that was supposed to be there. Then I saw the buildings.

Garrygualach, at least it appears to be the case, was burned and abandoned years ago. It was one of the eeriest places I've ever been, mainly because, though the most of the buildings were obviously burned, their interiors were left exposed. Burned mattresses, scorched end tables. Charred remnants that weren't so far destroyed as to be unrecognizable. Then there was the main house...not burned. There were couches visible through the window and a table set for tea, but it was completely abandoned as far as I could tell. Nobody had been there in years, if I had to bet. Since it was getting dark soon, and I didn't yet know if I'd find a campsite, I contemplated breaking in and sleeping inside. The silence and abandon bested me after a few, quiet moments. I walked on.

The footbridge that was marked on the map had collapsed, and I was forced to ford the little river, thankful for my rock hopping abilities I've been fine-tuning fly fishing with John on the Hiwassee. Then came the bogs. Now, if you read the other post, you know all about them. They're terrible things to walk through. Bacterial, sometimes waste deep (I've now talked to people who tell me that people have been swallowed by them), and deceptive. What looks like solid ground completely gives way as you plunge to mid-thigh and are held by suction. Add a 25 pound pack to the mix and its tricky walking, to say the least. The section of map circled above was all bog along the river Garry. This is where my shoes and socks became inevitably soaked and muddy, and also where the blisters started and opened. As terrible as these bogs are, and as much as I hate them, it's actually an amazing part of nature. That a piece of land can look grassy, green, and sure, yet be completely unstable for meters, amazes me.

If you look at the map and find the little cluster of islands in the middle of the river (just SSE of 152), that's where I camped along the south bank. The spot I found was terrible, but compared to everything else it was a godsend right at nightfall. I set up camp and was too tired to cook, so I ate a piece of chocolate and went to sleep.

 

Day 3: West of Garrygualach to Cluanie

It rained on night two, so my hopes for drier shoes and socks were quickly put to rest. I knew that my day would be hard with a few more miles of bog, wet shoes and socks, 3600ft of ascent, and a river crossing. But I also knew that Claunie had an inn, and given my very real concern for my open blisters in the bog, I decided I would push on to the inn and get a room where I could clean and rest my feet. The ascent was tough. You would think that halfway up a mountain there would not be any boggy stuff. Guess again! I had a few nasty falls descending the pass at Màm na Seilg into Glen Loyne. The vista was beautiful, and there was even snow still capping the mountains to the west. Glen Loyne is also quite remarkable, winding between several mountains at 250meters above sea level.

Fresh out of the bog

Second ascent with Glen Loyne behind me

The river crossing was painless, thankfully, and since my shoes were already drenched I just trampled right though the shallow ford. After a pretty draining second ascent, I came upon an old abandoned road that descended about 10km into Cluanie. I was thankful for firm footing, and the sight of the inn in the distanced spurned me on, despite my groaning feet. I saw a car pull into the inn and then leave a few seconds later. That's when I got the feeling that they weren't going to have any rooms available. I had to force myself to accept the possibility, and I thought, "Maybe they'll at least have a little pub and I can have a beer."

I walked into this inn, limping, wet, and very stinky, and asked if they had a room. "Sorry, 'fraid not. We're full," said the woman. I explained my situation to her and, when she realized the risk and my concern for my feet, she went and called around, ultimately finding a bed and breakfast in Morvich. Her husband gave me a ride, sixteen miles up the road, to the place I'm staying now. It's quiet here, set in the mountains, and I'm taking a zero day for my blisters to heal. Read, if you still haven't, "An Unexpected Turn" to see where I go from here.

 

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Striking off; Into the Highlands

This will be a quick post due to the fact that I'm running behind, thanks to some logistical issues. I begin the Cape Wrath Trail today from Fort William. Something that I've come to realize is that the further north I get, the less available wifi will be. I've made an agreement with Tim, with whom I stayed two days in Kilchoan, and since its local and free to phone him from a landline here I'll be calling him and he will email mom the updates. Every 5-6 days I might come across wifi and be able to make contact with family myself, but otherwise it will be through relay. I really appreciate everyone following this, and I hope that its been at all interesting. I'll update when I can, but for now don't be concerned that posts aren't as often.

For those of you who remember that I quit shaving the day of graduation, here's a photo. It's not quite as full as I hoped it would be. Haha. Maybe the wild will fertilize it.

 

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Some Photos: Kilchoan and Ardnamurchan

On the Craignure Ferry

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the Tobermory Ferry

Ardnamurcha, Westernmost point of mainland Britain

 

 

 

 

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The West Highland Line

At platform 7 of Queen Street Station in Glasgow, I boarded the train to Oban. It's about 3 and a half hours long, and from Oban it gets a little tricky. In Oban, I'm meant to connect with a 4:00pm ferry to Craignure, then get to Tobermory, from where a ferry departs to Kilchoan at 6:00pm. I might never have figured all this out on my own, but Tim, an incredible guy who is going to host me for a few days while I plan, told me what I would need to do. So now, I'm sitting on the train as it winds through some of the prettiest country I've ever seen. Glens (valleys), lochs (lakes), bens (hills), and quaint, remote platforms have composed the shifting painting of my window. The train headed west before it separated from the Fort William line and headed south. My ultimate destination today is Kilchoan on the western coast of the country where Tim lives.

I don't have a way with words like many do, but this landscape warrants some effort towards description. Each loch seems to hold its own beauty, with the rivers feeding into them and the bens surrounding. It's wild almost, and outside the industrialized cities, of which there aren't actually that many, the homes fit into their context and form a very intimate and beautiful picture at every turn. It's no wonder that the directors if Harry Potter chose this line to film the train scenes in the movies, most memorably the Glenfinnan viaduct. Not being quite into the Norther Highlands yet, the hills are just that, hills, though no doubt some would fatigue any who set out to climb them. Some have deep cuts in them, down which waterfalls travel into the lochs. The train itself, and the iPad I'm writing this on, are the only things that keep me from slipping away into a much older and simpler time. The closer I get to the wild, and the closer I get to beginning the Cape Wrath Trail, the John Muir quote sinks in deeper and deeper.

"Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home; that wildness is a necessity."

 

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Beith

I landed in Glasgow at 5:30pm yesterday (Monday), and thankfully I had just hours before found a place to stay in a small town about 40 minutes out of the city. From the airport, the 500 bus took me to the city center, and from there the X36 bus hauled me 40 minutes out of town and dropped me in Beith (pronounced Beeth). My new friend, Breandan picked me up at the local co-op (market) with his friend Frankie and we walked to his house which was about 5 minutes away.

Breandan is a very interesting guy. He's 21 and is already a widely traveled fellow. Not to mention he's a world champion speed-cuber. If you don't know what that is, let me just say that Breandan can solve a Rubix Cube from any starting pattern in around 7 or 8 seconds. Needless to say, that's a pretty impressive feat, especially to me, the guy that gets a headache just looking at a Rubix Cube. When his mum got home from work, they cooked me supper and we ate together. Pauline is no less interesting, a self-taught harpist who not only writes music, but even wrote a country-western song on the harp, covers songs from the Foo Fighters to classic Irish ballads, and runs marathons across Scotland. AND she's a Bob Dylan fan. Anyone who knows me knows that I really enjoyed myself.

After supper, Breandan suggested that we take a drive from Beith over to the sea coast. The roads we took could have been in any calendar, picturesque and winding. Sheep dotted the countryside , and Breandan tried his hand at shepherding a lamb that was blocking the road back into the pasture . The sun set behind us as we turned way from the coast and back home. After a cup of tea, and a few episodes of Family Guy, I we headed to bed. Though I met these fine folks though couchsurfing, they offered me an open bed, and I slept better than I have in a long time. I woke up to a wonderful surprise. Blue skies and sunshine! After hearing about how pretty weather is so hard-earned and highly appreciated here in Scotland, I'm really soaking up the sun and vitamin D while I can. I had a shower this morning, first in a few days, and hand washed my clothes in the tub. It reminded me of hand washing my clothes on the Camino de Santiago with Emily, my sister, and I wish she was with me.

I left Beith this morning and bid farewell to Breandan and Pauline around 11:15am. After getting the bus back into Glasgow, I boarded the train at Queen Street Station bound for Oban. The next post will pick up from here. Breandan and Pauline, next time I see you I would very much like to hear the harp, see some juggling, and try that famous French toast I've read about. You'll always have a place with me, and I hope our paths cross again sooner than later.

 

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Transatlantic Thoughts

I'm now on the plane from Chicago to Glasgow, Scotland. The last couple days have been full of surprises and new experiences. I want to share them, yet I find myself questioning whether or not anyone will want to read it. BUT! I decided that I'm just going to write what strikes me, and I'm going to try and write it 'honestly', as the reputable John "Bear" Moore would say. I'm going to break this up a bit, for organization. Now that I'm stuck in a plane seat, I can give the last few days some proper attention.

Chattanooga to Nashville: Alex

I never thought this leg of the trip would make it on here, but exceptional people warrant attention. I met a young man on the shuttle to Nashville, and we struck up a conversation. I mistook him for a college freshman when I asked if he went to UTC. He laughed, in the same pleased way that I would have if I were mistaken for being in college when I was still in high school. He told me that he was wrapping up his sophomore year at McCallie in Chattanooga, and we launched into conversation. I told him that for the last two years I tutored a few McCallie guys in Latin - I was pleased that he knew them and that we had established a common thread.

Several things stood out to me about Alex. As he told me about aspirations for Harvard, success, and money, I wanted to know what brought him deep joy. I asked him, "What brings you deep joy?" Every other time I've asked this of a high school age guy, the answer took a while, and even then it wasn't very confident. Hell, even with adults the answer sometimes seems like an unsure thing with which they aren't even familiar. But Alex answered immediately and confidently, maintaining intentional eye contact the entire time, "Music. Music is what brings me deep joy." Our conversation went on from there to happiness, life, society, fathers, and adventure.

I mention him on here for the simple reason that his authenticity and genuineness struck me, moved me, and left me in contemplation for quite a while. His story is real, and his response to it is admirable. I've spoken with him a few times since we met - we exchanged information - and I hope to keep in contact with him in the years to come. And that he might fill me in on everything The Lord has in store for him. Pursue your deep joy Alex, and reconcile it with the world's deep need.

 

Nashville: The Boyd Family, The Franklin Rodeo, and Tuna Cans

My dear friend, Stuart Boyd, picked me up in Nashville. Yes, he picked me up in that weak Dodge Ram of his, but he did it with a willing spirit so I won't hold it against him. His family had supper waiting when we got to the house, and I was immersed in one of the most fun and comical family dynamics I've been exposed to. Dr. Alan Boyd, his wife Lori, and daughter Taylor were great to stay with. They told me all the ridiculous stories about Stuart (ask him about the Super-cross magazine) and jested with me as if they had known me for years.

Stuart and I headed to the Franklin Rodeo after supper, and gosh was it fun. I had forgotten how much I loved the rodeo, especially barrel racing. Before I realized what was happening I was whoopin' and hollerin' as those gals rounded the barrels. There were a few 8 second rides, but the cowgirls stole the show. When we got back to the house, we went out to the workshop and fashioned a cook stove out of a tuna can. Now for those readers who are familiar with tuna can --> cook stove designs, I won't even try to pretend as if mine is well made. It was quick, simple, and yet functional. We tested it and it works - boiled water in 3 minutes with just a tuna can and denatured alcohol.

After a quick breakfast at the Puffy Muffin in Brentwood, and a stop in for a watch at REI, Stuart dropped me off at the megabus stop and headed on to Cleveland to do some pretty incredible volunteering. He's a good guy, and he helped me out a lot. Thanks buddy.

 

Megabus: Flora Montanae (Latinists will get that)

I really lucked out with my seat on the bus. It was one of those double-decker rigs, and pretty new. Compared to my last bus experience, with Greyhound, this was awesome. I'll only use megabus from here on. I sat on the second deck in the very first row, with the entire windshield right there in front of me. I spent much of the time listening to the CD that Brooke Sherlin and I had recorded last week, really just because her harmonies are gorgeous. Then I got a neighbor! It was the woman who had overheard me talking about the PCT earlier, and I was tickled to death when she moved up to the recently vacated seat next to me. Her name is Flora, and she lives beside Glacier National park in Montana. We struck up an incredible conversation about hiking, her incredible, late husband who sounds like one of the best teachers that has ever been, my family, education, and literature. Despite the generation gap, I met a kindred spirit and friend in Flora. I was so thankful when she told me that I would always have a place to stay in Glacier. Flo, you are a joy to take a bus ride with, and I look forward to seeing you again soon.

Flora and I

 

 

Couchsurfing: My first experience

 

First and foremost: my Mamaw must never know that I am couchsurfing. She would worry herself to death over it. Well now that that's taken care of, lets move on. For anyone unfamiliar with couchsurfing.org, you should look it up. While some people might be sketched out by the idea, the idea of global reciprocity of hospitality is incredible, and I fully back the mission.

When I put out a couch request for Chicago, I wasn't sure what to expect, but I kind of saw myself staying with some younger hippy guys, college guys, or something similar. What I did NOT expect was the email I got from Phil Hoover, an alum from my alma mater, Lee University. Phil graduated in 1985 from Lee, and to say that he's passionate about it would be quite the understatement. Phil is crazy about Lee, and for this reason he was thrilled to have me as his 175th couch surfer in 9 months. Some people volunteer at soup kitchens, but Phil hosts the world in his living room.

Phil and I

He met me at the bus stop, greeted me with a hug, and we talked about Lee for most of the night. I was really excited when he said that we would be going to church in the morning- the Moody Church of Chicago. I didn't know much about the history, but I know that it's one of the most historic churches in the US. We woke up early early and walked a few blocks away where we had the worlds best cinnamon roll and coffee for breakfast. Phil treates me and I enjoyed hearing more about his transition from Huntsville, to Lee, across the world with the Air Force, and then ultimately to Chicago.

After a 45 minute bus ride, we arrived at the Moody Church, which Phil told me was the only Greco-Byzantine church in the US. The building's exterior was beautiful, but it was the sanctuary, pictured below, that took my breath away. The rotund room, with booming ceilings and imposing organ pipes, was a deep, old color that made me feel as though I had stepped back in time a bit, and maybe even into another country. The Logos Romanian Symohony and Orchestra played music, accompanied by a combination of choirs that did an incredible job of leading worship. The congregation was loving, and everyone who knew Phil stopped and talked to him. He introduced me as his first couchsurfed from Lee, the epithet I became quite used to after a while.

After an awesome Mexican lunch and a 3 mile stroll along Lake Michigan, we made ready to head to the airport. What we didn't know was that the Cubs game would let out right as we passed the stadium, and the bus became just packed with loud, upset Cubs fans. Time kept passing and was getting nervous, because we still had a 20 minute ride from Irving Park to O'Hare on the blue line. With one hour till departure I burst into the terminal to find an empty line for Aer Lingus. All worked out. Phil and I said farewell at the security checkpoint and I boarded with plenty of time.

 

Dublin, Ireland

Well I'm just now finishing this post from the Dublin Airport. I have 5 hours left in my layover here. I had planned on going into the city center during the layover, but its an hour trip round way and it would have taken at least an hour to go through customs, then security again upon reentry. Given all these factors, and that I was super hungry, I decided to hand out here at the airport and work on some things until my flight. Tonight will find me in Glasgow, and hopefully with a place to sleep!

 

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Chicago: The Moody Church

My new friend and Lee University Alum, Phil Hoover, has shown some great hospitality since I arrived last night. This morning we are at the Moody Church for Sunday school and morning worship. What a beautiful place! I head out tonight from O'Hare!

Itinerary!

I'm leaving from Nashville to Chicago tonight, staying with a friend, and then leaving for Scotland from O'hare International tomorrow. Here's my itinerary if you'd like to check the flights. I'll post when I arrive safely.