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.

THIS is why I couldn't move to Sticksville!

This afternoon I got a call from Brother. He wanted to talk about Mother, but he didn't know where to start. So he just started.

Sunday he and SIL had gone out to see her impromptu. When they got there (midday) she was still in bed, more or less unconscious. She had been sick, vomited in the bed, and then fell back asleep in it. They pulled her out of bed, washed her, washed the bedding, and tried to talk to her. But she was pretty unresponsive, and had no interest in eating or drinking anything. They had a lot of trouble just getting her to eat some toast and drink some fruit juice. They stayed over Monday as well. (Brother had to take a day off work.) She wasn't much better, but at least a little. Today they left. But they are—understandably—really worried about her.

No shit. With a story like that, of course they are. So am I, now that they told me.

In training

A couple of months ago, I mentioned that my conversations with Debbie about hiking the West Highland Way have moved from "some day" to "this spring." It's really going to happen.

• We have fixed dates for the trip: leave the US on April 15, and return home on April 30. This year. Six weeks from today.
• Debbie contracted with a travel agency that has secured us lodgings all along the route.
• We've bought plane tickets to Scotland and back.
• I had a long, necessary, and totally predictable conversation with Marie about our plans, during which I assured her—more than that, I committed to her—that Debbie and I wouldn't fuck while we were in Scotland or en route. I think my exact phrase was "no sex and no quasi-sexual activity."

Remember when I first mentioned this trip, that I said I was woefully out of shape? Well, now I've got six weeks in which to get in good enough shape that I can hike 96 miles across the Scottish Highlands.