Learning about spirituality on the West Highland Way (pt 8)

My final day walking. The last 14 miles into Fort William. I read the notes on the route and it suggests a significant uphill section and a rough stage through woodland. I have mixed feelings. I want to get home, but I also feel I could go further if I had the opportunity. I have no blisters - amazingly!

I am in for breakfast as soon as the Inn allows, and hit the road by 8:30. The climb out of Kinlochleven starts almost as soon as you leave the road and is hard on tired legs. I normally let the first hour’s walking loosen me up, but no such luxury today. My left knee begins to grumble a little, so I make maximum use of my trekking poles to share the weight. This niggle mirrors my more general feeling about myself today on the trail. I had set out to explore stillness, attention and withdrawal. However, even though I had relished the space and quiet to be still amidst the rhythm of walking, the joy of this elevated stillness was offset as it shone a penetrating sidelight onto those parts of me that remained un-stilled. My swift irritation at a couple of very minor things over recent days, and some past resentments that my brooding had dug up again.

I feel I have done better with the other two. I had loved being able to be contained within myself, whilst greeting fellow-walkers and conversing with some of them for a little longer. I especially missed my American friends from the first stages, who had divided my long walk over Rannoch Moor across two days, and so were now twenty-four hours behind me, but otherwise having the space to think, reflect, and take some photographs was a gift. I had also learnt about attention; being aware of myself physically and emotionally as well as my close environment. Pacing oneself demands this sort of attention, and then learning to trust that I would eventually get there becomes easier.

This is an unforgiving landscape. The ruins of abandoned farmsteads on Larig Moor bear testimony to the hardships folks endured in order to be able to live, but who must have eventually conceded defeat.

I was also reflecting on Saint Fillan, whose ruined 8th century Priory I had passed a few days earlier. No grand vaulted ceilings fit for ecclesiastical pomp and grandeur out here, just sturdy walls and enough space to shelter from the elements.

There is an odd experience today as I try to keep weary legs going. It seems almost as if I am perfectly stationary, and it was the effort of my legs which is slowly rotating the earth beneath in whichever direction I stride.

Ben Nevis eventually appears around a shoulder of rock to my right. Vastly overshadowing the hills around but unfortunately not bathed in the sort of light to allow for the best photographs. The long drag down and into Fort William seems to last forever. I need to drink from my water, but feel too tired to remove my rucksack to allow me to get my water bottle. A fellow trekker helps me out. I chat briefly with an exhausted Polish couple who are thinking there is another two hours to go! On the outskirts of the town the old marker for the end of trail, is still there, but the new official end is in the town centre. After 95 miles of moor and hill, the sight of a string of tired walkers making their way down the pedestrian precinct, weaving in and out of the passing shoppers, is surreal.

The Polish couple took a photo of me on my phone.

For any stats-geeks reading this, over the last seven days I have;

• walked 95 miles (approx 155 km)

• taken 213,000 steps

• climbed 3701 flights of stairs*

I decide to split my celebration in two. Firstly, I stop in a tea shop for a pot of tea and then, after checking in and enjoying a hot bath. I then set out to hit the town once more and see what culinary delights may be on offer. Sadly, it looks like more of the same. I’ve had enough burgers and chips with too salty a taste. I return to the hotel where I have one of the emergency dehydrated camping meals carefully kept in reserve, washed down with a small bottle of Merlot I bought from the Tesco Express, topped off with a yoghurt and a Crunchie. After a long day this deserves a Michelin star!

It is going to take me a day and half to get home, and so I will do some final thoughts then. This has been an amazing experience, one I would heartily recommend to anyone with some good shoes and a reasonable level of fitness. Using the baggage transfer option meant only having to take a day bag. Some of the wild campers looked like Sherpas laden down with tents, and pots and pans. I can’t imagine how they managed the sections along Loch Lomond!

*I have no idea how this is worked out or what it actually means.