Day 12: Bothwell to Lanark.
Distance: 19.8 miles (213.4 total).
Duration: 7 hrs 22 mins.
Lowest Temp: 2ºc.
Weather: Just like that song by Crowded House.
Highest Alt: 651 ft
The Archdeacon smells better than I do. That’s largely because whilst my journey to Lanark involved nearly twenty miles of walking along the occasionally elusive Clyde Walkway, his involved two bus trips, costing £1.69 and £3. Perhaps I should explain.
When The Archdeacon arrived in Bishopbriggs on Friday evening, I was rather dismayed to discover that he’d brought a tent and a sleeping bag with him. Given that our journey was going to be taking in a series of hostelries and bed and breakfasts these seemed rather superfluous, and I tried to persuade him so, but he was not to be persuaded; The Long Suffering One tried to persuade him that they were unnecessary encumbrances, but he was not to be persuaded; my Uncle and Aunty tried to persuade him that they were unhelpful burdens, but he was not to be persuaded.
So, off we set on Sunday morning, me with my spare pants and a change of socks, and The Archdeacon with his tent and sleeping bag, and who knows what all else.
Curiously enough, The Archdeacon and my Dad walk in very much the same way. They both tear off as fast as they can for as far as they can, before coming to a sudden breath-shuddering halt; at this point The Archdeacon tinkers obsessively with his walking sticks and rucksack straps, in the belief that if he gets them perfectly set he will Never Have To Stop Again.
We first realised something was wrong at lunchtime. He’d been keeping up a good pace, but when he removed his waterproof jacket there was actual steam rising from his clothing – owing to the space taken up by the tent (and sleeping bag), he was having to wear virtually every item of clothing he possessed. “I’m feeling a bit hot”, he observed.
It was at the thirteen mile mark that he really began to flag. The Long Suffering One was deeply sympathetic and helpful. I just wanted to hit him with one of his tent poles and then smother him with the sleeping bag.
Anyway, he soldiered on to Bothwell. This afternoon he met up with my Dad, who took away several kilos of utterly pointless baggage, and so he’s going to have another go at being a pilgrim tomorrow. Keep him in your prayers, and perhaps see if you can’t get a Mass offered up for me.
Hi Father Brother
ReplyDeleteWe are following avidly and looking forward to each new blog
Well done so far
Pete and Kath Austin
Hello Stuart
ReplyDeleteI've only just read the first bit of your diary so far but I have an answer to your question (can anyone think of a good reason to walk across Scotland in February). The answer is no because there are no badgers in Scotland in the winter. I might read some more soon.
Love from Joe Loveday xxx
Hi Stuart,
ReplyDeleteUmmm ..... although I think you are aiming at a (usually?) nice humorous style to your writing, may I cautiously hint that ..... possibly you're being a bit harsh on the Arch Deacon?
Now .... you are clearly a SERIOUS walker .... after all, anyone who plans and then actually DOES a string of 18 mile plus walks is by definition a serious walker. And us readers have been glibly observing the steadily mounting mileage ..... possibly without really comprehending what is involved?
However, I'm sure you and others will recall the pilgrimage some in the All Saints parish did last year between All Saints and St Paul’s? I think it was something in the region of 10 miles? Although, it might have stretched to 11 or 12? I can't rightly recall.
Well ..... I was certainly tired at the end! OK .... no specific training for that and presumably the Arch Deacon was warned that some training might be a good idea? :)
Still, 13 miles seems pretty good to me! And ... I'm going to give him Brownie points for initiative in working out what buses would cover the same ground :) After all, Chaucer and co used horses, so horse power seems OK to me :)
And, you know, on our pilgrimage through life, we tend to meet all sorts of people ..... and I guess on a bus will certainly enable the Arch Deacon to meet a variety of people!
Buses and bus stops can be funny places! When I was younger, my Mum always used to amaze me that, no matter what bus stop we stood at, someone would always 'open up' and tell my Mum their life story! Guess she has that kind of face! However, at 12 or 13 I found this incredibly embarrassing! Although, come to think of it, at 12 or 13 perhaps we spend a lot of time being embarrassed by our parents :)
Still, looking back on it now, I like to think that my Mum touched a lot of lives by listening. Perhaps that is what this pilgrimage is about for the Arch Deacon? I hope we hear from the Arch Deacon on any revelations whilst on the buses?
Elaine
Hi Stuart
ReplyDeleteI just finished reading the first 12 days and thoroughly enjoyed it, good luck and happy travelling. Sorry I can't help with descriptions of the area you're in, but we do have Cairns out here somewhere......Jim
Stu,
ReplyDeleteA priest is walking down the street one day when he notices a very smallboy trying to press a doorbell on a house across the street.However, the boy is very small and the doorbell is too high for him toreach.After watching the boys efforts for some time, the priest moves closer tothe boys position.He steps smartly across the street, walks up behind the little fellow and,placing his hand kindly on the child's shoulder leans over and gives thedoorbell a sold ring.Crouching down to the child's level, the priest smiles benevolently andasks, "And now what, my little man?" To which the boy replies, "Now we run!"
See you at the Spread Eagle
TG
Dear Elaine
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for your understanding and perceptive comments. As you have intimated I have had some very special meetings and conversations on the buses - not necssarily acknowledged by Fr Stuart. I hope that he will allow me to write about these in the Blog!
The Archdeacon