A walk of many beginnings and one end?

Day 5: Lochgoilhead to Carrick Castle

Distance: 5.2 miles (64.3 total)

Time: 1 hour 48 minutes

Today had many beginnings. It began with my friend Paul getting me into long distance walking in 2001. It began with being brought up with a love for Scotland which is both nostalgic and true. It began with a phone call to my brother at half-time in Watford's last home game of the season (1-1 versus Sheffield Wednesday, although it felt less exciting than 1-1) to check that he was okay with my last minute plans. It began with me sitting outside a pub in Lochgoilhead with my Uncle Jimmy as we walked The Cowal Way together, and me seeing a little bus bearing the destination 'Carrick Castle'. It began with the happiness and laughter that used to pour out of my mum whenever she would tell stories of her childhood holidays in Carrick Castle. Parking in a farmer's field in Whistlefield near Garelochead, and then loading up a rowing boat with everything that was needed for a family holiday; she would laugh describing all the pots and pans that her mum would fill the boat with. They would row across the lochs and spend the holiday in not much more than a hut, which was fed by water running off the hills; when the water stopped flowing they would have to head upstream to find where leaves had blocked the flow. Her favourite story involved a time when she had been standing in Loch Goil, gutting fish which her dad and brothers had caught; flinging the guts over her shoulders, she got the fright of her life when her mum shouted at her to get out of the water, as a shark was swimming up behind her, drawn by all those tasty fish innards. Yes, perhaps today's truest beginning was in my mum's happiness and laughter.  

The day began with us sitting on bar stools waiting for the rest of the family to join us for this last walk to where Granny had spent so many of her childhood holidays, and what would be her final resting place. In a loch, nestled between the mountain. The walk today was unlike the other days in three ways. First of all, we've been up in the hills and glens whereas today we walked on a road along the lochside. The distance today was a mere five miles, whereas the other days it has been ten to eighteen miles walking. The people we were with today really made a difference as we walked with three of Granny's nieces, a great-nephew and we were joined by her younger brother, Uncle Jimmy, and one of her sisters-in-law, Aunty Maureen at Carrick Castle itself; it just felt right that we were together, it's what Granny would have wanted. However, there is one thing that did not change. Midges. Today's Midge-Day Prayer was at a whole new level, and for the first time in mine and Dad's history, we had to skip the second half of the prayers and go straight on to the Our Father as we were getting eaten alive.

If today's walk had many beginnings it had just one end. As the week had gone on I'd become increasingly focused on (I say 'focused', I mean 'worried about') the 'how' of returning Mum's ashes to Scotland. This morning I just knew in my heart that what I most wanted to do was to find a strong stream running into the loch, so that she would be drawn away into the deeper waters. Just below an old stone bridge, we gathered together at the edge of a stream; I could hear Mum telling me to stop and listen to the beautiful sound of the water. James, Barnaby and I had all carried a part of Mum's ashes across the sixty miles of our pilgrimage. The boys and I took off our walking boots and socks and walked into the stream and together we poured the light grey ash into the clear flowing water. My cousin Jacqueline played a verse of 'Amazing Grace' on her bagpipes, the last piece of music we'd heard at Mum's funeral. Nothing had been planned. Everything was right. We dried our feet and put our boots back on. Today's walk was inspired by one of the most beautiful and loving (and funny!) souls I have ever known, and for as long as we share the stories she shared with us through tears of laughter, and seek to show others the love and compassion that she showed us, and for as long as we try to live out that love in simple acts of practical kindness, then this walk of many beginnings will not end for a very long time to come. Oh. And for as long as we smile when we hear a bit of Cliff Richard on the radio, then she's still walking with us wherever we go and whatever we face.

Today was a good walk it was definitely a 9/10 also it was really cool for everybody to come and join us and it was very fun yea. The only thing is there were so many midges but it wasn't that bad because i didnt get bitten so it was fine. OH and the bagpipes were fantabulous.

THIS WILL BE ALL THE END.

 

It's time to end this walk

Day 4: Arrochar to Lochgoilhead

Distance: 11.9 miles (59.1 total)

Time: 5 hours 45 minutes

Tomorrow: It's time to end this walk.

I'm learning to walk differently. When I walked in February it was boots on, head down, complete the miles. Partly because the miles to be completed each day are slightly more reasonable on this walk, and partly because B and I are trying to persuade Walker Number 3 that these hikes might actually be quite fun, I've been open to all sorts of new experiences: we've been to cafes, we've not started a walk until after 9, we've even stopped to enjoy the view. Yesterday I remarked to Barnaby that maybe in future I could go on shorter walks and take my camera and enjoy both my favourite hobbies; to me this was quite the breakthrough moment, but the look that my youngest gave me rather suggested that this was not exactly rocket science. This new-found adaptability came into its own today, when we decided at the last minute to change our route. The original route for today was going to take us over The Brack, quite an exposed and steep peak, but with 30+ mph gusts predicted and rain setting in for most of the day, we decided to change tack and follow The Cowal Way to Lochgoilhead instead. We still had quite a climb, we were still on quite an exposed peak, and we still struggled to stay upright in the fiercest gusts, but it was a far more children-friendly day than it might have been (these things are all relative!).

As Dad taught me, some days no matter how many waterproofs you're wearing, you are still going to get soaked through. Today was one of those days. The walk started with a steady climb out of Arrochar where we soon realised that today was going to be, one of those days. As I talked about in yesterdays blog, Midges and Midday Prayer seem to come together in a most frustrating way. Today was no different from yesterday, which is why we have decided to officially rename Midday Prayer, Midge-Day Prayer. 

Okay, so I thought B was going to write a bit more, but he's asked me to fill in while he gathers his thoughts, so this is what I have -

- I used to have a boy who would skip, just skip, when he was really happy. Today, making our way through a forest as the rain poured down, I watched him skip ahead of me. Just writing this is making me want to cry.

- As we walked towards the summit of today's hike, the rain got heavier and the wind got wilder. Although James had a waterproof coat with him, he refused to put it on, in spite of my frequent pestering. As we came down off the summit (and the only other people we saw up there were soldiers on training) I chastised James for being the only person I'd seen in a tracksuit top, to which he replied, "And you're the only person I've seen all day in shorts." Busted.
- The walk is nearly over. I hate it when these walks end. Always. And I know that tomorrow I need to return Mum, and that's been on my mind a lot today. She loved being up in the hills (although I don't think she'd have enjoyed them today) (in fact, she'd have given me a right royal bollocking for taking the boys up into the hills in the weather we had). Tomorrow my pack will be a lot lighter. My heart will be a lot heaver; for a time.

As we got closer and closer to the top, the wind picked up more and more. By the time we were at the summit you could barely stand still without getting blown all the way back to Arrochar. It was at this point that Dad(dy) decided that it was time to record my daily 'Bring Me Sunshine'. I think that James would agree with me that we weren't too keen on being up there for too long, but I did it anyway, I think that my loyal fans deserve it. As I was struggling to keep myself upright whilst singing 'Bring Me Sunshine' the wind howled over the hilltops.

Tomorrow is going to be tough. The three of us have shared in carrying Granny all this way, but now it's time to end this walk and bring Granny hame.

James writes:

Today's walk was alright but midges were everywhere. The climb wasn't that bad and when we got to the top it was a little bit windy but me and Barny didn't notice it but father was getting battered about and he was whinging for the whole walk also the walk was a 8/10 and the veiws were pretty cool and yea.

this will be all

Red Flag Means Live Training in Progress

Day 3: Garelochead to Arrochar

Distance: 10.6 miles (47.2 miles total)

Time: 5 hours 13 minutes

Tomorrow: Arrochar to Lochgoilhead (est 10.3 miles)

Funny how a day's walking can turn out. This morning Barnaby and I were joking that with only twelve miles or so to walk, it was barely worth putting our walking boots on. We had a leisurely start to the day and didn't actually set off until almost ten. Some five hours later, when we spotted a short-cut into Arrochar that would take a couple of miles off the day's walk we were eager to take it. Some days the miles just fly past, and the last couple of days had been like that; "What, we've done seven miles already?" Today was the opposite and it seemed to take forever for us to reach the halfway point of six miles, and then we seemed to be stuck on six miles for hours. Why it felt like that I have no idea, because weather-wise it was such a lovely day and in terms of the walking itself the landscape was the best of the three days so far, rising and falling through forests and across hills; you might even say that the landscape was constantly undula... oh, wait, that's not for me to say. 

Undulating. The only word to describe today. We started with a steepish climb out of Garelochead followed by a flat couple of miles through active shooting grounds. The red flags (meaning training was happening nearby with live ammunition) were menacing at first, but the more and more flags we saw and the more and more gunshots we heard, the more it all just became part of the landscape. If you are a dedicated reader you will know that we stop for midday and afternoon prayer at 12 and 3. This is normally quite a still peaceful moment. However today it became frenzied as we had stopped by a wee stream in a forest and if you have been to Scotland you would know that that is the perfect climate for MIDGES! The further we got into the prayer the more and more midges joined us. By the Our Father we were surrounded by a swarm of midges. Without saying anything we closed the prayer book and put our rucksacks on (all whilst still praying), we were quite proud of this as we think it was our quickest turn around yet.

Just before B and I share an important announcement, I have to share one of my favourite moments of the day. Looking down at a beautiful view, James remarked, "Is that all one loch?" When I replied that it was, he said, "That's a long loch." It was, of course... Loch Long.

A JOINT STATEMENT OF GREAT IMPORTANCE, FROM BARNABY AND DAD(DY):

This is the first time that James has joined in one of our long walks. We have been absolutely delighted to have him walking with us. Even though he's usually walking about a hundred yards ahead of us as he tunes in to Kendrick Lamar, we just LOVE all being together. When we started this walk we mentioned how happy we were that he was with us and how much we'd love it if he walked with us again. This enthusiasm on our part was not mirrored by James, who repeatedly made it very clear that this was most definitely a one-off event in honour of his Granny. However.... Over the course of today James' attitude towards walking has changed as he has realised that the best way to experience Scotland's beauty is through walking. That is why we are happy to announce that James will be joining us on all walks from this point onwards. We shall now pass onto James to explain more about this... 

Guys this is clickbait I am not gonna join in on any more walks and if i were to do another walk i would walk with people that can actually go my pace so I don't have to wait every 20 minutes or so for them to catch up. Also this walk was an 7.5/10 but there was good views also I wasn't the one that said 'that is a long loch' that was dad. Barnaby will back me up on that also I've finished writing now.

THIS WILL BE ALL.

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The welts on my shoulders have been getting redder each day. The experience of carrying the extra weight of Mum's ashes is creating new walking challenges for me. 

I've been thinking a lot about carrying Mum and about the times and ways in which she 'carried' me over the years; from being literally carried as a newborn, as a child, through to being carried by there being someone there who believed in me when it felt like nobody else did, when I didn't much believe in myself. I think too about the ways in which I have 'carried' my boys, the ways in which I seek to lift them up and to let them know how much they are loved. There's also the careful emotional/psychological algebra of trying to figure out when it's time to not carry them, when it's time to let them walk on their own two feet, and to make their own mistakes, and to fall; knowing that it's okay for them to fall, because I'll always seek to be there to reach out a hand and help them back up again. 

Mum was always there to reach out a hand to help me back up again when I fell; that's what love does. And the painful red marks on my shoulders that I'm getting from carrying her these last few miles is a small act of thanksgiving; that's what love does. 

Barnaby is terrified (James is not impressed)

Day 2: Dumbarton to Garelochead

Distance: 18.2 miles (36.6 miles total)

Time: 7 hrs 52 minutes

Tomorrow: Garelochead to Arrochar (est 12 miles)

Barnaby writes: The day started with us presenting James with the two routes that Dad and I had plotted from Dumbarton to Garelochead. He instantly asked, 'How long is each route?' When I responded with, 'Mine is 16.9 and Dad's is 18', he replied, 'The shorter one'. Dad's route would have consisted of climbing up a hillside and following the ridgeline all the way until we needed to drop down into Garelochead. However... my route was mainly down 'A' roads although with a long off-road section through Glen Cruin. My high point of the day was when during the off-road section we were faced with a large stream. I heroically said to Dad, 'Don't fear, get on my back and I'll carry you across this raging river.'

Well, it's difficult to know where to begin with this massive confection of lies and half-truths. It's certainly true that James' decision about our route today was entirely based on distance. It was quite funny to find both boys on their bed this morning, with Barnaby trying to interest his older brother in the routes on offer and James interested in one issue only - distance. That said, Barnaby's route really was rather lovely. The beautifully peaty brown River Leven was punctuated with fly fishermen all the way out to Loch Lomond. Barnaby was delighted to discover that we were going to pass the aquarium he'd visited with his hero, Neil (formerly known as Rabbi Neil). As for the stream in Glen Cruin, someone was definitely carried across, but I think that little Barnaby's memories might be playing tricks on him. And I think it was the stress he experienced as we walked down in to Garelochead that got him so muddled...

As we got closer to Garelochead there was an abundance of signs reading, 'Troops training. Do not touch suspicious objects', alongside a picture of something blowing up. I felt like every step we took was a risk and that just got worse as we got closer to Garelochead. As we reached the highest point of our walk I was intrigued by the [CENSORED BY MOD]. As we got closer I took out my phone to take pictures of the intriguing [CENSORED BY MOD].  On the drop down into Garelochead James noticed an off-road shortcut that I was worried might lead to James' demise. Although I was feeling quite anxious, Dad was more than happy to say 'Go on and see what happens.' As we joined the main road we saw the big fence around the [CENSORED BY MOD] littered with signs saying 'People who take pictures may get arrested and prosecuted.'

Okay, enough with Barnaby's mealy-mouthed nonsense. As we reached the summit looking down on Faslane Nuclear Submarine Base he took a photo on his phone. He was tremendously excited by the huge base down below us on the lochside. I told him about how excited I'd been as a child, seeing submarines going up and down the Clyde. However, his excitement turned to anxiety verging on neurosis when we reached the base perimeter and B saw signs prohibiting photography. He firmly believes that it's only a matter of time before a couple of burly MOD police burst into the pub we're staying in and cart him off. I just know that I'm not that lucky.

James concludes: The walk was a 7/10 at best. A summary is there was lots of dead stuff and a submarine base and the walk was a mile longer than it should have been so that was not cool. Actually because of that the walk was a 5.5/10 maybe a 6/10. Also we crossed a stream and Barnaby had to carry father over because father didn't want to get his toes wet because he is a baby. 

THIS WILL BE ALL.

Puerile Contests

Day 1: Bishopbriggs to Dumbarton

Distance: 18.4 miles

Time: 8 hours 6 minutes

Tomorrow: Dumbarton to Garelochead (est 18 miles)

One of the really special things about this pilgrimage is that James is walking with us. It's just been such a delight to be walking with both my boys. However, concessions have had to be made to help keep James onside; specifically, we've stopped for something to eat in actual eateries not once but TWICE. Luncheon was taken at a retail park on the outskirts of Glasgow; the boys feasted at KFC and I sat on my own in a Burger King. Later in the afternoon we came across a lovely coffee shop by the canal at Bowling, and James and Barnaby devoured Rocky Roads the calorific value of which I really don't want to speculate on. Those Rocky Roads were the only rocky roads we saw all day, and I'm going to pass over to Barnaby to tell you more about today's walking.

Our day started with Aunty Maureen's loving hospitality which gave us a perfect start to our walk. This walk is a pilgrimage between two places that were a significant part of my Granny's childhood and we realised this was the right time to bring her hame. Most of the day was steady flat path along the Forth and Clyde Canal (which does make it quite a boring walk to talk about). 

Reluctantly, I disagree with my fellow pilgrim, I didn't find today boring at all and it was my two companions who made it so much fun. One of my absolute highlights was when Barnaby tried to introduce his big brother to Pink Floyd's 'Comfortably Numb'; he listened for about a minute and then exclaimed, "What! There's another nine minutes of this?" We also spent quite a lot of our time playing really juvenile word games which invariably descended into a lot of kn*b jokes; with regret I have to confess that I was definitely the best at this vulgar, puerile contest. Sorry Mum.

The highlight of today was definitely having James with us as he has never joined us on a walk further than the front door. His presence was enough even though he was listening to music 90% of the time... Nevertheless, it was nice to have him there walking with us even though he still isn't fully on board with the whole thing. He was the one who encouraged the outrageous outcome of stopping TWICE on this walk. (although I did enjoy the KFC...)

James writes:  I very much enjoyed this absolutely fabulous opportunity to venture out with my fellow peers. Whilst I was, at first, daunted by the many miles I had to walk at the start of this pilgrimage my spirits greatly improved further on in the day. One of the things that slightly miffed me on the walk was my kin, Bartholemew's hair, which greatly resembled a jutting out edge of a cliff; in addition to that he put bountiful amounts of hair product on his hair [THE REST OF THIS SENTENCE HAS BEEN CENSORED BY BARNABY] [OUR ABILITY TO TELL YOU THAT THE REST OF THIS SENTENCE HAS BEEN CENSORED BY BARNABY HAS ALSO BEEN CENSORED BY BARNABY]. [BARNABY HAS NOW ALSO CENSORED OUR ABILITY TO TELL YOU THAT HE CENSORED THE CENSORED SENTENCE.] This will be all.

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When I made my pilgrimage in February my backpack weighed 27 pounds. My pack for this walk is 35 pounds, and it's Mum's ashes which make the difference. We have shared her out, but I'm still carrying most of her. On Saturday afternoon we poured some of her ashes into two Mountain Warehouse flasks, so that the boys can both be sharing in taking Granny hame. Quite how she's added so much weight is a mystery to me, because there was nothing of her. At times today I've definitely felt the difference of carrying the extra weight and my shoulders really hurt tonight. I remind myself that she carried me so far, her love and example carried me to today, and sore shoulders are a small act of thanksgiving really. I'm in Scotland, I'm hiking, and I'm with both my boys, I couldn't be happier. A huge part of that happiness, a huge part of the Dad I am, is the Mum she was.

   

Land of Hope and Dreams (Going Home)

If you were with me as I walked from Gartan Lough to Iona, you've probably heard this story before. My youngest son, Barnaby, walked with me for two days from Drymen to The Drover's Inn (look it up). One of the themes I was reflecting on as I made my pilgrimage was exile, and the related idea of home. Talking to Barnaby about the sense of 'homelessness' I felt, the sense of exile, I made the mistake of reflecting on my mortality. "The problem is", I told him, "when I die, I have no idea where I'd want you to scatter my ashes." He's a quick lad, my Barnaby, and without a moment's hesitation he chirped up, "Wetherspoons?"

The thing is, I'm not entirely sure that he was joking.

Mum would never have had a second's doubt about where she would have wanted her mortal remains to return; for the longest time she always wanted to go back home to Scotland. But she never left Essex. Scotland was always in Mum's heart and hopes, but an ever greater part of her heart was invested in her sons and her daughters-in-law, and her most beloved grandsons. Those loves were home too, and ultimately those loves had a stronger pull on her than the road North. Family meant everything to Mum.

For five years she's been in my bedroom cupboard and while she rested in peace everything I knew to be home fell apart outside her closed door; everything that mattered most to me was denigrated and destroyed. At the last, even the little sense of 'home' that I could hold on to, my own sense of the past and a history of love and family, was painstakingly deconstructed. There wasn't much left. So in January I went for a long walk and Mum stayed shut behind the door.

A pilgrimage can be a powerful thing. When I came back to Berkhamsted everything was whole, and happy and renewed...

...well, I made that bit up. When I came back from my pilgrimage everything that had been destroyed remained destroyed, and almost everything that had been lost remained lost. Almost everything that had been lost, remained lost, except for myself; somewhere between Letterkenny and St Columba's Bay I found myself again.

I found myself again and so at last I can take Mum home. It's time for her to go home. To be honest, I could have driven over the border and scattered her ashes in the first layby I found and I'd have done all that needed to be done, she just wanted to be in Scotland; and to be honest some more, part of her would have found the idea of being scattered about amongst the fast food wrappers and empty drinks cans of an A Road layby ridiculously funny. Anyway, it's not going to be like that. My two boys and I are going to make a pilgrimage from Bishopbriggs where she grew up, to the loch where she spent so many happy childhood holidays. By that loch we celebrated her seventieth birthday with her twin brother, her wee brother, and a lot of family. 

By that loch we'll say thank you to the God and the country who gave her to us, and then we'll give her back.

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In a few weeks' time my boys and I are going to see Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band at Anfield. The tour is called 'The Land of Hope and Dreams Tour'.

I remember one of the last Sundays when we went to visit my diminishing Mum. We came home and put the boys to bed. I got very drunk. I sat outside and looked at the garden and drank and drank and drank. And as I drank, I listened over and again to a song by Bruce Springsteen: 'Leave behind your sorrows, Let this day be the last, Tomorrow there'll be sunshine, And all this darkness past.'

Land of hope and dreams. We're going home.