Month: July 2014

Scotland End to End

Cameron McNeish is a Scots hiker and backpacker and was for 20 years the editor of The Great Outdoors magazine. That makes him a logical choice as the person to design the route of the newest long-distance walking trail in Scotland: the Gore-Tex Scottish National Trail (pity about the corporate branding, but that’s life in post-Thatcher Britain, I suppose, and given the weather in Scotland Gore-Tex makes sense as a sponsor).

The Scottish National Trail begins in Kirk Yetholm (the northern terminus of the Pennine Way, just across the border from England) and ends at Cape Wrath, the northernmost point on the UK mainland. Scotland End to End is McNeish’s account of walking the trail (after poring over maps to decide where it would go) with photographs by Richard Else. (I believe there’s a DVD available as well, so although from reading the book one might think that McNeish is on a long solo hike, there must’ve been a film crew trailing him, too.) It’s an odd book, both a trail guide with detailed instructions about the route, and a reflection on the state of Scotland’s wilderness at the beginning of the 21st century (hint: not good). But given the size and heft of the book–it’s a weighty hardcover–nobody in their right mind would stick it in their backpack, so I found myself wondering if a more portable guidebook will be forthcoming.

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I was surprised to learn that many experienced hikers in Scotland resist the idea of waymarked trails altogether. “Up until comparatively recently the hiking convention in Scotland ws that people made up their own routes,” McNeish writes, noting that the country’s large network of rights of way and paths and trails helps people plan their route. “Indeed, I recall as a youngster poring over the excellent little book, Scottish Hill Tracks . . . spending many pleasurable hours linking rights of way together, making long routes through some of our wildest landscapes.” McNeish says “There was a real joy in that kind of planning, a deep and satisfying sense of exploration that can’t be experienced if you simply buy a guidebook and then follow signposts all day long.” Indeed, he continues, “There was for a long time a deep suspicion of anything that might threaten our cherished freedom to roam, and that included the southern”–that is, English–“attitude to waymarked trails.”

Of course, for most of us it’s adventure enough to buy a guidebook and follow signposts (or yellow arrows painted on guardrails and the backs of highway signs), especially if you’re coming to walk from another country or another continent. The idea of wandering off into the wilderness is a very foreign one to me, mostly because Canada doesn’t have any freedom to roam or network of paths and rights of way, but also because it would simply be too dangerous to hike into the trackless boreal forest. There’s a reason for hiking trails, at least in this country, where getting lost in the wilderness can be fatal. But I agree that it’s important to know how to use a compass and read a map–two things I need to practice doing.

It’s good to know that the Scottish National Trail exists, and someday, if I complete a walk of the Pennine Way, I’d like to use it to carry on all the way to Edinburgh. Hey, it’s only another 120 kilometres!

Brave words. Christine and I walked 22 kilometres yesterday, which means we’re more or less ready for the Cotswolds. I’m surprised at how much of a struggle it was. Partly it’s the boredom of walking two 10 kilometre loops around the lake, a route that’s getting a little tired, and partly it’s the fact that I haven’t been walking those kinds of distances for at least a month or so. I’m finding that no matter now much electrolyte mix I drink, or how many bananas I put away, I’m always on the edge of heat exhaustion after 20 kilometres or so–even when it’s not hot. I blame the statins that the doctor has prescribed to keep my inherited tendency to high cholesterol in check; apparently they affect the way the body handles minerals like magnesium. Still, I was taking the same medication in Spain and never had any problems. Is it possible that I just need more practice?

Solvitur ambulando

“Solvitur ambulando”: I heard that expression many times on the Camino. It means “it is solved by walking around,” and although I’ve heard it attributed to Saint Augustine I have no idea if he actually said it (or, more accurately, wrote it) anywhere. The authors of this article on walking borrowed those two words as their title, and structure their longish discussion of walking around some eleven problems that walking can solve, from providing people with a cheap mode of transportation to curing spiritual dryness to aiding in artistic inspiration. It’s a pretty good introduction to the literature on walking, with many quotations from writers ancient and modern on the benefits of bipedalism. Check it out!

Today’s walk didn’t solve any problems, though. Christine and I set out to walk 22 km, but we started late and it got hot–today is the first day this year that the temperature has hit 30 degrees here–and neither of us are used to the heat. To make things worse, both of us ate too much at lunch and felt more like having a nap than going another eleven km. Lessons learned: eat smaller portions, start earlier–things I already know but needed to be reminded about, apparently. Any way, we decided to stop early. Normally we would’ve walked north, along the creek, but because of all the rain we’ve had lately–an entire spring’s worth last Sunday–the creek is in flood and the footpath under water in spots, so we decided to walk loops around the lake instead. Good thing, too, because that allowed us to cut our walk short and come home. If we’d walked out eleven km along the creek, we would’ve had to walk back eleven km, because neither of us carries a cell phone when we walk (stupid, I know, but I’ve never felt the need to be reachable every minute of the day) and so calling a cab would’ve been out of the question. On the other hand, sometimes when you’re forced to do something, like walk to the next town because, dammit, there’s no other way you’re going to get there, you often–usually–surprise yourself. You’re capable of more than you think. At least, that’s one of the things I learned in Spain and something I’ve kept telling myself since.