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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