Distance: 19.9 miles (259.8 total)
Total ascent: 1,801ft (19,523 total)
Tomorrow: Ballantrae to Maybole
Without a shadow of a doubt, today's was the best day's walking of the pilgrimage so far. A little over three miles from my B&B in Stranraer I was walking away from the main roads and onto a beautifully quiet single-track lane that climbed away from the sea and up into the hills. I wouldn't need two hands to count the number of vehicles I saw as I walked. After a mile or two's climbing the road stayed fairly level for the next eight miles or so, curling out past Penwhim Reservoir. Leaving the lane I followed a track up to a summit called Beneraird, after which I was led gently, lazily, peacefully down into Ballantrae with the sun breaking through more fully with every step. This is probably a good time to say something about how lucky I've been with the weather. Almost the entirety of today's walk was on exposed moorland and hillside; in different weather it could have been a miserable day. Today it was perfection. For fifteen miles I neither saw nor spoke to a soul. For some personality types, there's some perfection in that too.
Anyway, you want to know about the Rabbi who made me cry, don't you? Well, before we get to him we need to rewind a bit.
My youngest son, Barnaby, loves long-distance walks; who knows how that happened! When I realized that my pilgrimage took in the February half-term I tried to see if there was any way to get him up to Scotland to join me. One of my longest-standing and kindest of friends, who also happens to be Barnaby's Godfather (and who also happens to be about the only person I know who is as garrulous as Barnaby... did I say that?) kindly agreed to drive Barnaby up to Scotland and to drive 'back up' for him as he joined me for five days walking from Milngaive to Taynuilt. Unfortunately, last week it became clear that this just wasn't going to be possible, and my friend felt so awful about not being able to help. I feel so awful for all that he's going through. There was also a selfish part of me that felt really low that Barnaby wouldn't be joining me on this adventure; I know that it's highly unlikely that I'll ever get an opportunity to do something like this again and I was so delighted that he was going to be a part of it with me. I wanted us to make stories which we could keep for the rest of my days; stories that maybe he'd get to share one day with his children. At first we tried to figure out alternative ways to get Barnaby up to Scotland to join me, but quite quickly I realized that even if we could figure that out, it still wouldn't be the solution we needed; there was no way that my lovely eleven year-old could carry all that he needed for a week and do the walking we were planning to do. We didn't just need to get Barnaby to Scotland, we needed that back up driver too.
It was in Ballycastle, as I was brushing my teeth and getting ready to start another day's walking, that I realised that we just couldn't solve this problem; my reflection in the bathroom mirror had tears on his face.
Which brings me to my new friend, the Rabbi. Well, he's actually called Neil, and if he wrote something in which he repeatedly referred to me as 'the Vicar' I'd probably send him a sweary WhatsApp message telling him to knock it off. Yesterday morning, having breakfast in Belfast, I knew that this was the day that I'd have to email half a dozen B&Bs and cancel the bookings for Barnaby and his Godfather, and I just really didn't want to do it; coming to terms with life's harsher realities has never been one of my strongpoints. I decided to put it off until later in the day when I was in Stranraer. And then an hour or two later, while I was on the ferry, I received a message from the Rabbi Neil, that made me cry: 'Do you have time for a call? Was thinking about if I can help. Thinking if I fly up with Barnaby to Glasgow and hire a car and then fly back with him... Wouldn't be the whole time but would be some of it and I'd be able to be back up driver for you as well then.' I didn't have any words then and I don't really have any words now either.
For a bit of context, Neil and I have known each other for less than five years. Across that time a really special friendship has begun to grow; but all the same, I never expected anything like this. Ironically, he was one of the very few people I had told about Barnaby not being able to join me, because I knew that there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. There's something about the asymmetry of his generosity and kindness that speaks of the truth of true friendship. If I could ever do anything to reciprocate then of course I would, but it's hard to imagine a similar situation arising. It's hard to imagine that I'll ever be able to truly 'repay' my friend Neil. But that's what the best friendships, the best relationships are about; there's no 'keeping score', there's just generosity, there's gift, it's grace. I'll probably get him a pint when he arrives in Drymen with my son; it's the least I can do.
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Thanksgiving: I'm guessing that you can figure that out for yourselves.
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