Day 14: Flying home

And so the trip wound to an end. We got up at 5:30, checked out, met our taxi, and were at the airport before 7:00. Debbie's flight took off at 9:20. Mine was a lot later. I tried calling the airline to see if they could move me to an earlier flight, but the up-charge would have been over a thousand dollars. No, thanks.

Day 13: Sightseeing and one last pub

Another day that probably doesn't require too much detail. Once again, we breakfasted at Café Wander. Then we walked over to visit the Tenement House, an apartment that has been preserved pretty well exactly from the early 1910's. So it provides an excellent snapshot of middle class life in Glasgow a hundred years ago. While we were there, one of the guides asked gently if she detected "North American accents" from us. As we talked with her, we learned that she had been born in Kentucky and grew up in Ohio; but as a young woman she had fallen in love with a Scot and followed him back to Scotland. That was 50 years ago, and so, … well, … here she was. We told her a little bit about ourselves and our trip. It was pleasant.

Day 12: Sightseeing and theater

I think I can keep this part brief. We had breakfast at the delightful Café Wander; then we walked over to tour St. Mungo's Cathedral and the Museum of Religious Experience. After lunch, I went back to our hotel for a nap, while Debbie went in search of a fabric store. She didn't find what she wanted and got back late, which was a bit of an issue because we had theater tickets for that night. But we also had a lot of food leftover that we had packed for the hike and then not eaten. So we had a picnic in our room, and then walked the four blocks to the Theatre Royal where we saw "The Beekeeper of Aleppo."

 

      

Day 11: Back to Glasgow

For once, we didn't have to get up early. Our train left at something like 11:45, and it was less than a half an hour's walk from our hotel to the station. So we ambled downstairs for breakfast, then ambled back upstairs to pack. At this point I happily put my boots back in my suitcase: they were part of the reason my feet had hurt so often on this hike, but I wouldn't be needing them any more.

Day 10: Arriving at Fort William! And another pub.

The last day of the hike was also the longest: over 15 miles from Kinlochleven to Fort William, with no other habitation in between to break up the walk. By this time there was no question of my doing even part of the hike with her. But it so happened that the place to pick up the trail was pretty much just across the street from our hotel, and down a few yards. (As I may not have made quite clear in Day 9, the trail coming into town was more or less on the other side of town.)

Because the path was so long, Debbie made a point of leaving early. Well before I was ready to leave the hotel I walked her to the trailhead, gave her a quick kiss for good luck, and watched her set out. This particular part of the trail looked like a comfortable amble through a city park, and I felt sorry that I wasn't going with her. But I also knew that 15 miles would be more than I could handle.

Day 9: On to Kinlochleven

This morning after breakfast, the taxi came for Debbie to take her back to the Glencoe Ski Center (which you remember she had reached on Day 7). Looking at the map, we had figured out that there was no reasonable way I could walk the first part and then skip the rest, because there is no human habitation along the Way between Glencoe and Kinlochleven. Also, this leg of the walk involved climbing a stretch called the Devil's Staircase, which reaches to the highest altitude anywhere along the Way. After my experience with Conic Hill, I was not eager to challenge this particular incline.

But Debbie was determined. So off she went in the taxi to begin her walk. Meanwhile I had confirmed which bus would take me to Kinlochleven: it was, in fact, the same bus we had taken the day before to go into Glencoe Village, but I had over an hour to wait for it. So I made my way to the bus stop, and waited.

The bus was more or less on time, and an hour later I was in Kinlochleven. I didn't have a map with me (Debbie had the maps), so I ambled around for a minute and finally asked someone where the West Highland Way comes into town. I got directions, and set off to find it.

Day 8: Rest day in Glencoe

This was our "rest day." But we didn't just hang out doing nothing. We took the bus from our hotel into Glencoe Village and walked around. There was a museum but it was closed that day. But we were able to buy some art and souvenirs. Debbie visited a yarn store that was attached to a café. I waited outside while she was buying yarn, but then joined her in the café for lunch. After lunch we took the bus back to our hotel, napped for a while, and then had dinner and repacked for the next day.

          

Day 7: Arriving in Glencoe and Ballachulish

This morning we had one last breakfast at The Real Food Café, and then waited for the taxi. Debbie had called them the night before to clarify the instructions: the driver was to take her to the Inveroran Hotel, and then was to take me straight on to the Glencoe Ski Center. The former was covered under our package deal with the travel agency; the latter required me to pay him in cash for the extra miles. But the Glencoe Ski Center was our planned terminus for that day. From there, our itinerary said that another taxi would drive us to the Ballachulish Hotel for the night. Two nights, in fact: when the agency first planned our trip and we asked for something more leisurely, they gave us a rest day in Ballachulish.

Day 6: More hiking and a GREAT conversation in a pub

The plan for today was to hike from Tyndrum to the Bridge of Orchy, and then take a taxi back to spend a second night in Tyndrum (since all the accommodations in Bridge of Orchy were already full).

The hike wasn't difficult, not the way Day 2 or Day 4 had been. Mostly the route followed an old military road from a couple of centuries before, so it was rocky and closed to cars but pretty much straightforward. But my feet still hurt from the day before, and after an hour I told Debbie I was giving up and going back to the hotel. (Of course the walk back took another hour.) The first thing I did when I got back was to take a nap. After that, I know I spent part of my day writing up notes on the trip so far. I forget if I ever bothered to get lunch.

Debbie called me early in the afternoon to say that she had already reached the Bridge of Orchy, and didn't really feel like sitting around for a few hours until the taxi was scheduled to pick her up. So she hiked on another two miles from the Bridge of Orchy as far as the Inveroran Hotel. Then she called the taxi company to let them know where she was, and to ask for a ride back to Tyndrum whenever it would be convenient.

Day 5: From Inverarnan, by way of Crianlarich to Tyndrum

This was the last day that I slowed down Debbie's morning progress. Not that I got any better—oh no! But after today (or maybe tomorrow, depending how you count it) it was no longer practical for me to join her in the mornings, because there were no longer convenient spots early on in the day where I could call it quits. As you get deeper into the Scottish Highlands, the scenery gets ever more spectacular but human habitation becomes correspondingly sparser.

Day 4: From Rowardennan to Inverarnan and a haunted inn

After breakfast, a taxi took us and several other hikers to Rowardennan. On the way a conversation picked up, with the result that Debbie exchanged email addresses with one of the other women, and they each promised to visit the other at home sometime in the future. (To be clear, the other woman was English. Debbie, of course, is American.) Once we got to Rowardennan, we set off.

The route to Inverarnan hit a halfway point at the village of Inversnaid. And our hiking instructions stated clearly that there are two routes between Rowardennan and Inversnaid: an easy one that follows the road, and a hard one (but much more scenic!) that closely follows the shore of Loch Lomond. After my experience on Day 2, Debbie and I agreed we would take the easy way. But we never saw the road branch, and finally we deduced that we were taking the hard way. It really was profoundly beautiful; but it also meant that we were clambering over tree roots and crossing large rocks that had pre-empted the path. My progress was not fast.

Day 3: Debbie walks to Rowardennan

This day is a lot briefer to describe. After breakfast, Debbie walked to Rowardennan, and got there in the early afternoon. I stayed in Balmaha and rested my aching feet. I sat in the park by a statue of Tom Weir, wrote for a while, and decided to stay for the rest of the trip using the half-and-half approach Debbie had suggested the previous night. Debbie caught a taxi back to Balmaha and we spent the night there again. 

      

Day 2: From Drymen to Balmaha, by way of Conic Hill. Hosea breaks down.

We had breakfast at the Drymen Inn, around the corner from our B&B. I didn't understand the menu (that we were entitled to a large, hearty breakfast) and in any event didn't feel very hungry, so I ate lightly. (Spoiler alert: this was the wrong choice.) Then after we checked out of our B&B, we set off. 

The first couple of hours were pretty easy, and then we came to a fork in the Way. One branch went pretty directly to Balmaha (our next destination) by the easiest and most expeditious route. The other branch was described as "more challenging but more rewarding" and took the long way around, gaining a good bit more altitude and circling Conic Hill, but rewarding the hiker with tremendous views. Debbie definitely wanted to take the longer route, though she was solicitous of my well-being. I had already figured out that I was a lot slower than Debbie would be on her own, but I was still laboring under the delusion that slowness was my only problem. I thought to myself, Hey, I ran cross-country in high school and I put up with Wife for thirty years, so I can handle anything if you only give me enough time. Looking at the mileage we calculated that even in the worst possible case we'd still get to the hotel before dark, and so we took the second fork.

Day 1: From Milngavie to Drymen

Some of these narrative posts are going to be really brief. This one, for example.

We got up early, had all our luggage ready to be picked up by 8:00, and then had breakfast before setting out. "Setting out" meant first making for an obelisk in the middle of the Milngavie shopping district marking the start of the West Highland Way, so we could take our pictures next to it. (Sorry, you get a stock photo and not one with our faces.) And then we started walking. For the first hour or so, the environment was urban or suburban: walking through parks or along roadways. But gradually the signs of the city got fewer, and the incidence of sheep pastures increased.

Day 0: Getting to Milngavie

The first day, getting to Milngavie (pronounced "mull-GUY" and a suburb of Glasgow) was very long.

The previous week, on Thursday the 13, I had asked the Tarot what I needed to understand about the trip to Scotland. I dealt three cards: the Queen of Wands, Strength reversed, and the 8 of Wands reversed. I've always associated Debbie with the Queen of Wands, so reading that one was easy: the trip will have a lot to do with Debbie. I wasn't sure how to read Strength reversed (though I soon found out!). And I guessed that the 8 of Wands reversed might indicate travel delays. I wish now that I had made book on that last point. 

The last couple of weeks before the trip had been packed full of things to do, to get ready. Acquiring things I'd need for the hike. Figuring out how to pack efficiently for two weeks abroad. (And this was my first trip abroad since I went to New Zealand with Marie back in 2019!) Then on Friday the 14, I drove to visit my Mom, because her house is closer than mine to the Big Airport I was leaving from. We visited and had dinner, and I went to bed early. On Saturday the 15, I got up at 5:00 so I could be sure to leave the house by 6:00. By this time the anxiety that This is actually happening! had caught up with me, and for an hour I had dry heaves while getting dressed. But then I loaded my luggage in my car and broke down everything I had to do into discrete steps. Turn on the car. Pull out of the driveway. Drive to the freeway onramp. Get on the freeway. All of these are familiar things I've done hundreds of times. Drive to the Airport's new overflow parking. That one was new, but I found it easily enough on a map. Then take the shuttle to the Airport and do Airport things. Right, right. I know how to do all that. And when I broke it down like that, I calmed down and did it. 

Writing about the West Highland Way

NOTE: I'm writing this a month later than I am posting it, on Sunday, May 14. 

For a while I've been trying to think how to write about my trip to Scotland with Debbie, to hike the West Highland Way. I kept a lot of notes about the trip: about what happened, but also about the thoughts and feelings I had. And sometimes a given theme cropped up several times during the trip. 

I think what I want to do is as follows. First I'll write a series of posts about the narrative: what actually happened. As I type this it is mid-May already, but I will post each of these as of the date that it took place. Then I'll write some more posts about common themes that showed up more than once: big ones, like the nature of my relationship with Debbie; and smaller ones, like Debbie's growing flexibility around alcohol. And when it is relevant, I can refer back from a thematic post to this or that narrative post … to give you some idea of when these ideas cropped up, or in relation to what events.

It will probably take me a few days to write all this. Please bear with me.

          

Fear of flying

You all remember I'm going to Scotland, right? I'm traveling there with Debbie to hike the West Highland Way. In fact, at this point I check in for my flight in just about 60 hours from right now. 

I've bought all the things I think I'm going to need. 

I know where we are going to be staying. 

I even tried packing my suitcase a few days ago, and all the big stuff fits just fine. I haven't packed the carry-on backpack yet, but I'm not worried about it.

I just wish I could shake this overall feeling of anxiety.

A successful marriage after all?

You all know that my marriage was in many ways a slow-moving train wreck: very slow-moving, but ultimately a wreck all the same. So it has always amused me … well, "always" since I read the relevant post … that the system of numerology propounded by John Michael Greer says it should have been a success. But this evening I thought of another way to look at it.

I won't summarize my marriage, because you can just go re-read all of my posts here from December 2007 through June 2017: I mean all 932 of them. It's easy. But maybe I should recap what Greer says about the numerology of relationships.