Day Two

 

2nd May 2009   Scotland

Man cannot live on shortbread alone

 I wake up it is still dark I reach for my bag take out the phone and look at the time, it is just a few minutes past three. I think for many the idea of sleeping outside under the wide open sky in the moors on a bed of heather sounds pretty cool… even bordering on the romantic… hmm I’m not so sure… a little cool maybe when you don’t have the best of gear.. romantic…nah not at all. I will not grumble again about a simple mattress inside the cab of a truck. There are still a few stars visible between the clouds, I lay awake looking up at the night sky It is hard to imagine there are a hundred thousand million stars in our galaxy, and one hundred billion galaxies in the observable universe. It is incredibly hard to get my head around those kinds of numbers. If one day in the far away future we find a way to travel at just one per cent of the speed of light it would still take us close to five hundred years to reach the nearest star to our own star ‘the Sun’… a sun that is still behind the horizon. Maybe one day somebody will write down the story of that journey between two stars… I wonder if they will have a can of Irn Bru pushed into their space bag. I turn around pull the bivvy bag back over my head; right now I don’t need big numbers with a whole lot of zero’s in my head… I just need a few more Zzz . 

A few hours go by before I again wake up under the vastness of all the stars and galaxies above, only I don’t get to see them, the sky is both grey and wet. I stay in the sleeping bag waiting for the drizzle to take a break and when it does, I take mine, the sleeping bag seems to be dry it looks like the bivvy bag has done its job, that’s a good start to the day (and the many days to come). By 8:00 o’clock I am packed with a sandwich in hand and some sweets in my pocket and back to walking on the single-track road heading towards Lairg. The top of Ben Kilbreck to my left is still very much in cloud, but in front of me shafts of sun light are beginning to break through. The drizzle that has now stopped has left this heathland with its peatbogs, grasses and heather looking and smelling like brand-new; to complete the scene all I needed now was a blackbird to sing like the very first bird…but instead I got the throaty squawk of a startled grouse… I guess there is more than one way for a morning to be broken. 

 The walking this morning is similar to that of yesterday, a single track road winding its way south gently through a wide open landscape… no lochs to walk alongside today, the bigger hills are in the distance… once in a while a car would pass by… a hand would be raised from behind the wheel, eye contact made, the nod of a head.. in those few fleeting gestures there is a full conversation "…good morning... you ok… take care… maybe see you around"… and then the sound of tyres on tarmac fading into the distance. There is much to be said for a friendly nod of a head… the smallest connection with another is good… better still if one of the cars had pulled up with an ice box full of goodies and some Irn Bru… I’m kidding… well half kidding. 

In this small island of Britain there are still pockets of wilderness to be found. If I was to be standing where I am now with the gear that I have on… in the middle of winter, snow drifts, low cloud and blizzards… I would be in a whole lot of trouble. 

Close to three hours into this morning’s walk I come across probably one of the most isolated pubs in these islands the Crask Inn. I push the door open not knowing if they are yet open for business, the place seems empty, I’m about to turn around and head out when all of a sudden, a head pops up from behind the bar. "Hiya how can I help" and after the smallest of pauses "oops sorry did I make you jump" "no not at all" I say, both knowing that she had. "not sure if you can help" and then I go on about what it is I’m trying to do and how I want to do this walk without a penny in my pocket and… and do you think maybe I could have a mug of tea and sit down for five minutes. She smiles "sorry we don’t do mugs I’ll make you a pot of tea instead … I’m sure I can also find some shortbread, go and sit yourself down". 

It is while leaning back in a chair hands pushed deep into my pockets and legs stretched out under the table in this remote pub in the north of Scotland, that I suddenly realize for me to reach that church on the south coast of England, I will need to meet many more people like the lady from behind the bar, who has just given me a second pot of tea. This walk is no longer an idea, it is real and for this walk to be successful, my believe that people in essence are good also needs to be proven to be real. I finish the last of the tea and pick up the one remaining piece of shortbread; I express my gratitude for the tea and biscuits and in return I am given another smile and a ‘good luck’. Stepping out of the pub I feel good, how true it is that man shall not live on shortbread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God. It is in the genuine smile of a stranger that I many times experience, maybe not hear but sense the quiet still voice of God. Outside the sky has become a little brighter and I wonder if the people I have not yet met on this journey will also surprise me with their generosity, smiles and maybe also on occasions make me jump. 

A few hundred yards out of the Pub I walk across a stone bridge that takes me over the small river Tirry, like me it is also heading south. I scramble down to its edge and fill my water bottle then tip it over my head; the water is freezing if I was not fully awake, I am now. I fill the bottle again and push it into my bag. I still have a good four hours of walking in front of me before I reach Lairg. 

The landscape is changing a little; the heathland seems to be expanding pushing the hills and mountains further apart. The walking is pretty easy going; the single-track road gently rising and falling. 

My thoughts drift back again to those that toiled before us and the idea of a relay race. We living today hold that baton and in our hands are the hopes of a thousand previous generations. That is one lot of responsibility. On good days I imagine that our generation will be the one that crosses the finishing line, bringing to an end a history of conflict, broken life’s and shattered dreams. On rubbish days I am scared that not only will we drop the baton but lose it altogether, condemning future generations to never ending heartbreak. To lift the mood, I decided to try and walk the rest of the way to Lairg in the historic footsteps of all the good people from the past that had left the world in better shape than they had found it. 

The landscape is again changing, the more south and closer to Lairg, there is more evidence of land management taking place, there are more conifer plantations on the slopes to my left and on my right between the road I am walking on and the now much wider river Tirry the fields have become smaller, flatter and are now enclosed with dry stone walls rather than wire fencing. 

 I arrive in Lairg a little after three…I think the only footsteps I walked in were those of stray sheep and maybe one or two roe deer, so much for high ideas. 

In Lairg I find a church and in doing so make contact with a Rev. Goskirk, again I explain the idea of the walk and again surprised by the generosity of people, the reverend takes me to a Bed and Breakfast and pays for me to stay. At six o’clock I am picked up and taken back to his home for a huge meal with his family and afterwards we sit in front of the family fireplace with map books open talking of past adventures. 

 At a little after nine o’clock I am back at the Bed and Breakfast. I unpack a little, my sleeping bag is not quite as dry as I thought it was, I hang it over the radiator, plug my phone in, grab a shower, make a tea and climb into bed. The idea was to read a little… only I don’t… I am again thinking about what this walk is all about… as I have said I believe in essences people are good… only people believe in a lot of different things… to believe in something doesn’t make it true. There are people out there who believe the world is flat… sorry but it’s not. I guess this walk is about taking something I believe in and throwing it out there… for want of a better phrase ‘to walk the talk’. 

I look up at the clock on the wall, it has just gone eleven and I suddenly realize that I am tired. I close the book I never read and put it on the bedside table alongside a cold half empty mug of tea, as I switch of the bedside light the night sky on the other side of the window becomes visible… and I feel gratitude… a good man has put a roof between me a billion stars and a grey sky… he didn’t have to… but he did… thank you Reverend Goskirk.