A few steps further

Friday September 16, 2016

Fort William

Today was my third day in Fort William and I was beginning to get antsy. The town is not very big and I had been up and down the tourist stretch more times than I could count. So I stopped in at a cafe and asked the local barista what I should do. 

He asked if I'd seen the old fort yet. 

When I said no he told me, walk till it looks like you've hit the edge of town then it's a few steps further. 

So that's what I did. It really wasn't very far at all, but just outside of where all the tourist busses stop it seemed like a whole different world. Old stone walls, valiantly rebuilt. Steps leading down to the waters edge and a harbor with the hint of what this town once was, and on some levels still is, a fishing village. 

 

It felt like a completely different place. 

For starters I was mostly alone, except for a couple locals out for a picnic. 

And the glitz and tourist enhancements just weren't there. 

No souvenirs being sold.

Just the heart of a town once built around the fort designed to keep it safe. And the fisherfolk who came to work there. 

 

It was the best part of my visit to Fort William. 

How often do we stop just a few steps short? When do we fail to look past what is obvious and easy in order to see what is just beyond us?

When I think of the act of becoming disciples (myself and others) it feels like a parable that Jesus would have told. One that no one really understood. The surface meaning all that was grasped. 

Today was a reminder to keep looking, to keep seeking. To go deeper. 

The train to nowhere.

Thursday September 8, 2016

Fort William. 

Today I rode a train. Just that sentence seems a little ridiculous to me. And yet for most of the day, that is exactly what I did. 

 

Here in Fort William there is an old steam engine train, called the Jacobite.  Although it is much more commonly known as the Harry Potter train. If you've seen the movies then I'm sure you'll recall the iconic shot of the steam train crossing the viaduct (or great big bridge as I've been known to call it). This is the train used in the movies. It travels over that same stretch of track. 

When I heard about it I thought what a fun way to spend the day, that also does not require walking.  

And it was fun. And the scenery was stunning. 

 

And somewhere along the way it occurred to me that it hadn't previously occurred to me to care about where the train ends up! The destination didn't matter at all. 

How rare is that? That we can say we are in something solely for the journey.  That where we end up matter not at all. 

Our culture, our world is always pushing us to be on our way somewhere. Climbing the corporate ladder, finishing a project, raising our kids, etc etc etc 

And yet our faith lives are so much more about the journey. Yes we talk about life after death, but there is also so much more in our relationship with God along they way. How we discover ourselves and our world. How we step into God's grace. How we experience that grace for ourselves and share it with others.  Becoming disciples. Encouraging other disciples along the way. 

The train stops twice. Once briefly at a little village with enough time to tour the tiny museum, or if you're me discover friends you've met are also on the train and find a little path to a little red phone booth. 

 

And the end of the train ride, you stop for a couple hours in a little fishing village. Mallaig. It was a lovely villages suddenly full of tourists, while simultaneously a working fishing village. It was such a strange juxtaposition. And yet the perfect place to stop for a bit. To visit with folks I never expected to see again, before our journeys once again took us in different directions. 

Today I took a train that I thought went nowhere, and rediscovered the power of the journey, of becoming a disciple myself. 

 

Rest...no, for real

Wednesday September 7, 2016

Fort Williams. (Rest day: day 1)

Today was the first of three days I had scheduled between walks. It was always intended to be a day to relax, write, read, maybe do a bit of sightseeing. 

I have rediscovered about myself, that I don't do rest well. 

I'm pretty good at talking about rest, the importance of sabbath time, and even encouraging others to take it. I'm not as good at taking it myself. So building in a rest day seemed like a great idea. 

And my feet certainly agreed. Even as others in the hostel where I was staying were shocked I was spending the bulk of the day there, I remained committed to the plan. Largely because I had little choice. 

I may have gotten a little more beat up on the trail than I even realized. My feet now swollen are protesting the very idea of any footwear. 

So here I sit. Enjoying a cup of coffee and a gorgeous view from the window pondering what it really takes in our lives to make us stop and rest. 

 

Do we ever stop before we're forced to? God speaks over and over of balance and harmony and yet our world encourages us to go and go and go. 

And so many of us do.... Until we hit the proverbial wall. Today I am taking my aches and pains as a tangible reminder from God that part of this sabbatical is for rest. Rejuvenation of body and spirit. And maybe, just maybe the built in rest time is as important as the learning and going and doing times. 

When God said rest - God meant it. Right. Balance.

The End

Kinlochhleven - Fort Williams

Day 7.

Tuesday September 6, 2016

Today was the final day of the West Highland Way. The final 24km(but actually 30km). 

After such a long day yesterday, I simply did not want to walk.  At all. Anywhere. Ever again. 

The day began a little later than I had hoped, my feet were very sore so I was moving very slowly.  And it began with a hefty climb to the top of the ridge. I was soon getting passed by everyone as I was walking slower than I ever had. 

When I reached the top of the ridge and looked back at the village I had left an embarrassing 40 minutes before, I almost held my breath. It was a beautiful view. I was captivated. Suddenly I had energy all over again. 

 

There was certainly a part of me that simply did not want to keep going, but the sun was finally shining (a rare occurrence to be treasured!) and the views were once again breathtaking. 

It seems everyday of walking brought new and varied and stunning scenery. And so, as much as I did not want to be walking, I also couldn't imagine doing anything else. I both couldn't wait for it to be over, and never wanted it to end. 

 

The last of the walk was very painful. A long time on pavement. And the end, in the middle of town next to a statue of a man rubbing his feet brought relief and a bit of sadness. 

 

I loved this walk. Even the painful parts. I'm still processing everything - and imagine I will be for a long time to come. Part of me is already dreaming about coming back and doing it all again. 

The West Highland Way has captured a part of me - and it won't be letting go anytime soon. 

 

What mountain top?

Bridge of Orchy to Kinlochhleven. 

Monday September 5, 2016

Today was my longest day. 34km according to my maps. 39km once you add in the distances to and from my accommodation to the trail. This was a long long day. That included beautiful scenery across the moors, the devil's staircase (seriously that's what it's called, not what I named it), mountain top vistas and mountain pass views. 

It was by far my favorite day for scenery. 

And so so long. The first part (22km) it rained. And was misty or foggy. So not a lot of pictures of the stunning scenery - some of which I could see. 

 

After a quick lunch break and a visit with some deer came the climb. The climb that seemed to never end. 

 

As I was climbing what is known as the devil's staircase (because it is so steep) all those mountain top stories kept coming back to me. 

Moses up on a mountain talking to God. 

Jesus and the sermon on the mount. 

And especially the transfiguration. 

When we talk about these stories we talk about what happens at the top. Somehow we never seem to talk about the climb. As I was climbing and climbing and climbing I kept asking myself if it was worth it? And I began to wonder what the disciples had been saying to each other as they climbed. "Where are we going?" "Why are we still climbing?" "What, exactly is the point of climbing this giant hill?"

I could imagine them expecting something important and life transforming once they reached the top. And perhaps, even answers. Clarity. So they climbed on. 

When I finally reached the top. The view was indeed stunning (despite the fact that it was still raining). But the clarity and clear concise answers I had hoped for did not magically appear.  Mostly I was wet and tired. 

And suddenly I had way more sympathy for those disciples at the transfiguration.  It was a hard climb and then they got there and experienced the transfiguration. A powerful moment.  But one with more questions than answers.  The climb, so long. So hard. Get to the top. Now what? This is it? 

Just as the climb surely takes longer than we want - so to do answers. And clarity. They're never as quick in coming as we want. And it seems, they rarely arrive in the big grand mountain top moments we want. Instead we find ourselves at the top of the mountain going "ok, so now I just go back down?" 

But the view sure is amazing. 

 

Follow your instincts... not the crowd

Crainlarich-Bridge of Orchy

Sunday September 4,2016

Today started out well. The sun was shining (not always the reality here) and despite the pain in my feet I felt otherwise good. The short day the day before had served me well. I was ready to walk! 

The scenery was lovely, and I passed some interesting historical sights including the ruin of an old monastery. 

 

But that's when things went off the rails. There was a fork in the road. And rather than looking for sign posts or checking my map. I followed the two groups ahead of me. 

At first this seemed like no big deal. But before long I'd climbed a hill for about 1.5-2km and the path I was following was gone.  All that was left was field. And more field. And a lot of mud. And some water puddles. And did I mention the mud and field. 

I looked at the groups ahead of me. Still doggedly trying to climb the hill. But I turned and looked down.  Bellow me was a farm house. I figured there at least I could get directions! So I trekked down the hill. Through more mud and water. Climbed a fence and found my way to a path. 

Turns out this was the nice level path I should have been following all along. 

I thought it felt off but I trusted the people ahead of me more than myself. 

How often does something just not quite fit for us be we continue on because it's what everyone is doing?  It seems to me this is the life of faith. Knowing when to follow the crowd and when to say no, that's not quite right.  It's just a little off. We can do better. If we lean a little more toward Christ and a little away from the pack, that, I think, is where we find our sign posts, our path, our way through the wilderness. 

There's always a way if we're willing to trust the one leading us. 

 

It's ok to say no.

Inverarnan-Crainlarich

Saturday September 3, 2016

 

Today was day 4. And a break day for me. Only walking 10km I reached my destination by lunch (all while walking with someone else and a bit slower than my normal pace). And I thought about going onward to make the next day shorter. But I reconsidered. And am so glad I did. I can sit with my feet up for a few hours. Catch up on some writing. Maybe even get some of these posted!! 

And take care of the cold that is threatening me. 

Sometimes it's ok to say that's enough for today. To take a break. To relax. To stop and appreciate what you've accomplished already. 

Today I am at the unofficial halfway point. 

3 long days left (or 4 more reasonable days but more about that later once I decide). 

So here. Halfway across the West Highland Way. I will relax. And rest my poor sore toes. And rejoice in hot tea and some biscuits.  And maybe even find some soup for supper!