And so. We reach the end of 2012's first month. How's it been for you?
I started January pretty positively, and feeling good about the year. Has the past 30 days changed that? Well, yes and no. Its just been a funny old month really; with ups, downs, and inbetweens.
Health-wise, things are good. The diet (the no-carb no-fun diet as I'm calling it) has been a good change, and the walking has been good too. I've done one Munro this month. Incidentally, Schiehallion is the 59th highest mountain in Scotland, which impresses me more.
Career-wise, well the jury is still out on that one. Standby for more news, but I'm working on it.
Anxiety-wise, I've been doing pretty good. In fact, I learnt something recently that really made me think. Somebody put a thought in my mind, and the thought was this: that anxiety is actually a part of me, not something I can change or alter, but something I need to accept and then work with.
Which puts my blog sub-title slightly into jeopardy. It is not as if I genuinely thought there was an actual cure for anxiety. But I have to say, I kind of thought I could...get rid of it.
However, this thought - that anxiety is a part of me - is novel, new, and necessary. Maybe if I learnt to embrace that part of me, I'd start to realise that it is not necessarily a bad thing, and therefore acceptance will make me happier. I've always had a very negative perspective on my anxiety. It is hard not to. Nerves are never nice - not for me anyway. I believe that my anxiety is very obvious to others, and so I'm always trying to rid myself of it. But apparently I may not be as transparent as I first thought. Maybe - just maybe - it makes me who I am. And who I am is....well, possibly not as bad as I seem to think.
It all comes down to confidence. Oh, confidence, my old foe. You've always been just out of my reach. Well, perhaps in a year that I have promised myself to ford every stream climb every mountain chase every pot of gold at the end of each rainbow etc I may just extend my reach slightly and gain what I have sought for so long. Sometimes I feel I'm almost touching it, with my fingertips, but then it slivers from me, as elusive as its always been. But with a bit more effort, who knows, I might just grab on and see what happens.
In the meantime, I am just me. And I hope that this year I can finally learn that me is not such a bad thing.
February - what will you bring?
Tuesday 31 January 2012
Monday 16 January 2012
two down, 281 to go!
I am absolutely elated to report that the Munro Plan is back on track. On Sunday, 15th January, I bagged my second Munro! I am thrilled, and proud.
A lot has changed since Ben Lomond. I would say I am in a very different place now than I was back in September 2011. And feeling a lot better about a lot of things. 2012 has started positively and healthily. There has been a change in diet in the flat I share with Dave (the flat has also made much progression in the past year; I now have a living room!! I'm thrilled about that too by the way). It's his change - but I'm pretty much going along for the ride. It's protein-rich and carb-free. It's not always very exciting. Spinach leaves are not always a great replacement for pasta (yes, we did serve bolognase on top of spinach - interesting), oatcakes are not always a great replacement for bread (although delicious), an extra portion of carrots and broccoli is not always a great replacement for potatoes (there is only so much veg a girl can eat). But it is A. Good. Thing. Lots more water, lots more fruit, lots less crap.
And we've both been walking a lot too; averaging six or seven miles daily. After almost three years out, I have made a return to the sport of badminton. Last week I played twice in three days - I managed to get hit on the head by my teammate, a bruised bum after a backwards fall, and a tender, purple thigh after a particularly powerful smash - yes, I managed to injure myself with my own racket. It is a dangerous sport I tell you.
But lots of good stuff going on, and I think I'm feeling better for it.
And of course, ever since the first Munro, I've been champing (chomping?) at the bit to do another. And as you know, dear faithful blog reader, I have tried. But a car crash, a lot of dodgy Scottish weather, and something called Christmas got in the way. You can only imagine the stirrings deep in my walking soul when I heard the forecast for the past weekend. Cold, but dry. Perfect Munro climbing weather (says me, the expert).
We threw together a plan for Sunday; the first without any family members. I was worried how I would cope without my parents experience and sensibility (okay okay I was most worried about how I would cope without the food they usually bring). But this would be a different dynamic; myself, Dave, and two of Dave's friends Col and Gibson. Good guys, good banter, good walking. Schiehallion it was. Third time lucky...
The day started with porridge, complete with dried cranberries, crushed almonds, brown sugar, and (shudder) skimmed milk. We then drove (after scraping ice from the car in minus six degrees!) for around two and a half hours; a lovely drive with some early morning freezing fog, some cracking scenery going up the Sma Glen.
We parked at base camp (aka what we thought was base camp based on the other cars parked there) and began walking through the forest path.
We came out of the forest only to realise that we were about 300m up a hill from the path we should've been on. So we tramped through the heather, narrowly avoiding massive break-yer-ankle holes, and joined the proper walkers path. I was relieved to see we weren't the only ones who had made this mistake (although the couple behind said they had followed us, under the impression we knew our way, fools). So we began the climb. Officially. The path zig-zagged its way upwards, steeply. I struggled almost immediately. I had so many layers on due to the forecast (risk of hypothermia above 800m), but for now we were in direct sunlight and sweat was fast in coming. (I later noticed that I had sweated right through all my layers and my hoody). Up we went, steadily, slowly, surely, sweatily.
Soon the path went left, traversing the mountain. Soon we were walking straight into icy winds, and so all those layers that had been removed were put back on. I could feel my heart beating in my throat. It was bitingly fresh, and we had to trudge our way through a fair bit of snow. We kept passing people with ice picks and crampons and serious walking equipment. I was worried that we were ill-prepared for the snow we were heading through and towards.
But for every other ice pick spotted, there was also a child, a pair of trainers, a pair of jeans, and - the worst pair of all - a pair of shorts.
I started feeling really good and (dare I say it?) enjoying it. I kept thinking, life and mettle in my heels, life and mettle in my heels, life and mettle in my heels, life and mettle life and mettle life and go go go.
Schiehallions' many false summits and sporadic cairns were a test to the mental strength. Many times I felt close to the top, and I got a shift on. Many times I was wrong. The same thing happened on Ben Lomond, although that was far more challenging because the summit was never in sight and the mist was all-consuming.
The boulder field was, as expected, challenging.
But I hopped on through it, smiling, getting ever and ever closer to the summit of my second Munro. I genuinely felt ecstatic, I felt chuffed, I felt on top of the world. And soon, I was:
Two of Scotland's highest mountains climbed, only another two hundred and eighty-one to go!!
We didn't spend too long at the top; there was no wind, but it was freezing. The views were incredible; we were above the clouds, and could see so much. Loch Tummel to the right, Loch Rannoch to the left. It was difficult to distinguish between the clouds and the snow-capped mountain tops, but we could just make out the mountains of Glencoe and -ohwhatwasthat - the top of Ben Nevis, the highest mountain in the UK!
There was lukewarm tea to be had, accompaigned by smushed cupcakes, made the day before in a baking frenzy. But soon I couldn't feel my hands, and it was time to go. The descent was fairly rapid, although care was taken on the icy rocks and packed snow. We passed a woman sliding on her bum. We passed quite a number of people on their way up, at around 2-2.30pm, so I hope they got up and back down before darkness fell. We trooped our way back through the snow, and then we were back on the zig-zag path, and it was then a relief to finish the descent and join a level path. The knees and hips were starting to give way.
We decided not to tramp back up through the heather thankfully, but it meant there was an extra 15minutes of walking on the road back to the car. Not ideal, but it didn't quash the happiness of a glorious day, a fantastic climb, lots of fresh air, and just great times.
I thoroughly enjoyed conquering Schiehallion. There was more to it than just a Munro; there was emotion tied to it, there was meaning in the mettle. I'm relieved it is done - as it was becoming something to fear. I'm pleased we chose such a good day. I'm impressed at the achievement (because it was seriously tough going at times!). I'm proud.
A lot has changed since Ben Lomond. I would say I am in a very different place now than I was back in September 2011. And feeling a lot better about a lot of things. 2012 has started positively and healthily. There has been a change in diet in the flat I share with Dave (the flat has also made much progression in the past year; I now have a living room!! I'm thrilled about that too by the way). It's his change - but I'm pretty much going along for the ride. It's protein-rich and carb-free. It's not always very exciting. Spinach leaves are not always a great replacement for pasta (yes, we did serve bolognase on top of spinach - interesting), oatcakes are not always a great replacement for bread (although delicious), an extra portion of carrots and broccoli is not always a great replacement for potatoes (there is only so much veg a girl can eat). But it is A. Good. Thing. Lots more water, lots more fruit, lots less crap.
And we've both been walking a lot too; averaging six or seven miles daily. After almost three years out, I have made a return to the sport of badminton. Last week I played twice in three days - I managed to get hit on the head by my teammate, a bruised bum after a backwards fall, and a tender, purple thigh after a particularly powerful smash - yes, I managed to injure myself with my own racket. It is a dangerous sport I tell you.
But lots of good stuff going on, and I think I'm feeling better for it.
And of course, ever since the first Munro, I've been champing (chomping?) at the bit to do another. And as you know, dear faithful blog reader, I have tried. But a car crash, a lot of dodgy Scottish weather, and something called Christmas got in the way. You can only imagine the stirrings deep in my walking soul when I heard the forecast for the past weekend. Cold, but dry. Perfect Munro climbing weather (says me, the expert).
We threw together a plan for Sunday; the first without any family members. I was worried how I would cope without my parents experience and sensibility (okay okay I was most worried about how I would cope without the food they usually bring). But this would be a different dynamic; myself, Dave, and two of Dave's friends Col and Gibson. Good guys, good banter, good walking. Schiehallion it was. Third time lucky...
The day started with porridge, complete with dried cranberries, crushed almonds, brown sugar, and (shudder) skimmed milk. We then drove (after scraping ice from the car in minus six degrees!) for around two and a half hours; a lovely drive with some early morning freezing fog, some cracking scenery going up the Sma Glen.
We parked at base camp (aka what we thought was base camp based on the other cars parked there) and began walking through the forest path.
Soon the path went left, traversing the mountain. Soon we were walking straight into icy winds, and so all those layers that had been removed were put back on. I could feel my heart beating in my throat. It was bitingly fresh, and we had to trudge our way through a fair bit of snow. We kept passing people with ice picks and crampons and serious walking equipment. I was worried that we were ill-prepared for the snow we were heading through and towards.
Schiehallions' many false summits and sporadic cairns were a test to the mental strength. Many times I felt close to the top, and I got a shift on. Many times I was wrong. The same thing happened on Ben Lomond, although that was far more challenging because the summit was never in sight and the mist was all-consuming.
The boulder field was, as expected, challenging.
We didn't spend too long at the top; there was no wind, but it was freezing. The views were incredible; we were above the clouds, and could see so much. Loch Tummel to the right, Loch Rannoch to the left. It was difficult to distinguish between the clouds and the snow-capped mountain tops, but we could just make out the mountains of Glencoe and -ohwhatwasthat - the top of Ben Nevis, the highest mountain in the UK!
There was lukewarm tea to be had, accompaigned by smushed cupcakes, made the day before in a baking frenzy. But soon I couldn't feel my hands, and it was time to go. The descent was fairly rapid, although care was taken on the icy rocks and packed snow. We passed a woman sliding on her bum. We passed quite a number of people on their way up, at around 2-2.30pm, so I hope they got up and back down before darkness fell. We trooped our way back through the snow, and then we were back on the zig-zag path, and it was then a relief to finish the descent and join a level path. The knees and hips were starting to give way.
We decided not to tramp back up through the heather thankfully, but it meant there was an extra 15minutes of walking on the road back to the car. Not ideal, but it didn't quash the happiness of a glorious day, a fantastic climb, lots of fresh air, and just great times.
 |
| Col, Dave, moi, Gibson |
Monday 9 January 2012
Tam O'Shanter and a Grey Mare's Tail tale
One of my absolute life ambitions, near the top of my Bucket List, is to learn Tam O'Shanter off by heart. Arguably the best of his work, Rabbie Burns wrote this epic tale in 1790. Even he didn't expect to better this seminal poem, apparently saying in 1791 that the poem had been given "a finishing polish that I despair of ever excelling." It is truly an awesome piece of work; a story that equally excites, thrills, terrifies, and pleases the reader. If you've never read Tam O'Shanter go and do it NOW.
I've loved this poem ever since I heard it; probably at school first, then at Burns Nights at the golf club in West Linton, whilst I was weaving my way between the tables or listening from behind the bar. I've always thought it was a great skill to be able to recite such an epic poem. Not just because of its length but because of its pace, intensity, and the enthusiasm and energy required to recite it aloud.
As a tour guide for a company named after our national bard, I saw it as important to tell our visitors about Rabbie. And I did. Voted the Greatest Scot of All Time in 2009, the poetry of Robert Burns touches us all as Scots. Poems written over 250 years ago still have relevance and interest today. Rabbie is the gift that keeps on giving. I was proud to be an ambassador for a company called Rabbies, despite the high volume of tourists mistaking the Great One for Rabbis or worse, Rabies. I would highly recommend a visit to the Robert Burns Birthplace Museum in Alloway. I attended a very interesting talk with my dad last year during the Edinburgh Festival about Rabbie's unpublished - and very controversial - poems, complete with heckling from some drunk guy at the back - "G'AAAAN YERSEL' RABBIE!". Ahh indeed, Rabbie is a man I have a lot of time for. An auld romantic, I know I would have been wooed all too easily.
I used to recite a few poems on my tour. My pride and joy was 'Bruce to His Men at Bannockburn', or Scots Wha Hae'. I can do bits and bobs of others, including the first verse of the 'Address to the Haggis'. I, of course, would like to learn the whole thing one day! But Tam O'Shanter would be such an achievement to learn, and to recite, and some day I WILL.
I think the reason Rabbie has so much staying power is his uncanny ability to talk to every person, on every level, in every aspect of life. At any time. Recently I realised that there are certain lines of his poetry floating around my head. Occasionally it is my favourite line from Tam O'Shanter - a line that is also in the top two in the running for Favourite Line of All Time, constantly jostling for position with 'And I will love thee still, my dear/till a' the seas gang dry' from 'A Red, Red Rose' - which is: 'Where sits our sulky, sullen dame/Gathering her brows like gathering storm/Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.' All of that speaks to me, but especially the last part. On some days, there is nothing I like better than to nurse my wrath to keep it warm. But more recently, it is the part of Tam O'Shanter where Tam peaks into the auld Alloway Kirk, and sees 'Warlocks and witches in a dance/Nae cotillon, brent new frae France/But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels/But life and mettle in their heels.' Again it is that last part that speaks to me. There has been life and mettle in my heels recently, and so this line keeps popping into my mind.
All of my ramblings and ruminations about Rabbie seemed very relevant this weekend when we undertook a walk at Grey Mare's Tail, a National Trust site in Dumfries and Galloway, and home to one of the highest waterfalls in Britain and the highest loch in southern Scotland. Visited by the great man himself, and also featuring in Sir Walter Scott's 'Marmion', it is truly an impressive place.
We - me, mum, dad, Dave, and big bro Andrew set off towards the top of the waterfall; the walk was immediately steep and sharp, and a test to post-Christmas bodies. Lactic acid pumped through my legs pretty quickly, and so I worried whether I'd be able to go very far. But the steep incline evened out and soon it was a fairly level hike with the water on our left and the odd wild goat here and there. Eventually we stumbled upon Loch Skeen, southern Scotland's highest upland loch, at over 1,640 feet (500m) above sea level. It was beautiful.
Some nutter (mum) then decided we should climb the hill in the distance. We had decided against climbing White Coomb on account of poor visibility. However, we climbed the hill ahead, Mid Craig. It was worth doing; a short scramble, another challenge for the legs, but in poor weather. It also involved a hop, skip, and leap over the river, which proved entertaining:
The clinging mist turned to drizzle and then to that fine rain, the kind that soaks you through. At one point on the way up Mid Craig I couldn't determine whether it was sweat or rain pouring down my cheeks. We were drookit, but happy.
A short time at the top, some snow, and then a descent.
A most enjoyable walk, and yet another shifted from the 'must-do' list to the 'must come back in better weather' list. A beautiful part of the world. My thoughts were with Skye, as the scenery was, in places, unexpectedly similar. My thoughts were with Rabbie, his mare Maggie, who lost her tail, and the final part of Tam O'Shanter:
'Now, wha this tale o'truth shall read,
Ilk man and mother's son, take heed:
Whene'er to Drink you are inclin'd,
Or Cutty-sarks rin in your mind,
Think ye may buy the joys o'er dear;
Remember Tam o'Shanter's mare.'
Simply genius.
I've loved this poem ever since I heard it; probably at school first, then at Burns Nights at the golf club in West Linton, whilst I was weaving my way between the tables or listening from behind the bar. I've always thought it was a great skill to be able to recite such an epic poem. Not just because of its length but because of its pace, intensity, and the enthusiasm and energy required to recite it aloud.
As a tour guide for a company named after our national bard, I saw it as important to tell our visitors about Rabbie. And I did. Voted the Greatest Scot of All Time in 2009, the poetry of Robert Burns touches us all as Scots. Poems written over 250 years ago still have relevance and interest today. Rabbie is the gift that keeps on giving. I was proud to be an ambassador for a company called Rabbies, despite the high volume of tourists mistaking the Great One for Rabbis or worse, Rabies. I would highly recommend a visit to the Robert Burns Birthplace Museum in Alloway. I attended a very interesting talk with my dad last year during the Edinburgh Festival about Rabbie's unpublished - and very controversial - poems, complete with heckling from some drunk guy at the back - "G'AAAAN YERSEL' RABBIE!". Ahh indeed, Rabbie is a man I have a lot of time for. An auld romantic, I know I would have been wooed all too easily.
I used to recite a few poems on my tour. My pride and joy was 'Bruce to His Men at Bannockburn', or Scots Wha Hae'. I can do bits and bobs of others, including the first verse of the 'Address to the Haggis'. I, of course, would like to learn the whole thing one day! But Tam O'Shanter would be such an achievement to learn, and to recite, and some day I WILL.
I think the reason Rabbie has so much staying power is his uncanny ability to talk to every person, on every level, in every aspect of life. At any time. Recently I realised that there are certain lines of his poetry floating around my head. Occasionally it is my favourite line from Tam O'Shanter - a line that is also in the top two in the running for Favourite Line of All Time, constantly jostling for position with 'And I will love thee still, my dear/till a' the seas gang dry' from 'A Red, Red Rose' - which is: 'Where sits our sulky, sullen dame/Gathering her brows like gathering storm/Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.' All of that speaks to me, but especially the last part. On some days, there is nothing I like better than to nurse my wrath to keep it warm. But more recently, it is the part of Tam O'Shanter where Tam peaks into the auld Alloway Kirk, and sees 'Warlocks and witches in a dance/Nae cotillon, brent new frae France/But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels/But life and mettle in their heels.' Again it is that last part that speaks to me. There has been life and mettle in my heels recently, and so this line keeps popping into my mind.
All of my ramblings and ruminations about Rabbie seemed very relevant this weekend when we undertook a walk at Grey Mare's Tail, a National Trust site in Dumfries and Galloway, and home to one of the highest waterfalls in Britain and the highest loch in southern Scotland. Visited by the great man himself, and also featuring in Sir Walter Scott's 'Marmion', it is truly an impressive place.
Some nutter (mum) then decided we should climb the hill in the distance. We had decided against climbing White Coomb on account of poor visibility. However, we climbed the hill ahead, Mid Craig. It was worth doing; a short scramble, another challenge for the legs, but in poor weather. It also involved a hop, skip, and leap over the river, which proved entertaining:
The clinging mist turned to drizzle and then to that fine rain, the kind that soaks you through. At one point on the way up Mid Craig I couldn't determine whether it was sweat or rain pouring down my cheeks. We were drookit, but happy.
A short time at the top, some snow, and then a descent.
A most enjoyable walk, and yet another shifted from the 'must-do' list to the 'must come back in better weather' list. A beautiful part of the world. My thoughts were with Skye, as the scenery was, in places, unexpectedly similar. My thoughts were with Rabbie, his mare Maggie, who lost her tail, and the final part of Tam O'Shanter:
'Now, wha this tale o'truth shall read,
Ilk man and mother's son, take heed:
Whene'er to Drink you are inclin'd,
Or Cutty-sarks rin in your mind,
Think ye may buy the joys o'er dear;
Remember Tam o'Shanter's mare.'
Simply genius.
Tuesday 3 January 2012
And so it is. 2012!
...a very Happy New Year to you all, and best wishes for 2012! I have always preferred even-numbered years - they just sit better with me - and so I began 2012 with high hopes and positive vibes!
Christmas and Hogmanay passed quickly, as always, and without stress. I made far more of an effort this year not to get stressed out (why get stressed out?) and it paid off. A very enjoyable time, with family, food, and fun. A temporary Christmas contract with M&S made me feel active and hard-working. I caught up with good friends from university, and on Auld Years Nicht a small gathering in mine and Dave's flat provided many laughs.
I began 2011 hungover and shameful - after a drink-fuelled argument with my boyfriend of five months. I continued in an employment that - even then - I was unhappy in. I struggled through January feeling very low. Tours were ruined by the snow; on one occasion I was stuck in Dalmally trying to get to Inveraray. The road to Inveraray was closed, the road back to Tyndrum was closed. There was only one way I could go - west towards Oban, then through Ballachulish, Glencoe, and over Rannoch Moor. At certain moments, as I manoeuvred my way over one of the last great wildernesses in Europe, visibility was zero, snow and darkness consumed everything. The snow poles were useless. The road - that I driven so many times - seemed to change and move in ways it had never done before. Hellish, but I made it. On another occasion last January, I took a bunch of heckling Lithuanians through Highland Perthshire, another tour spoiled by the snow, but made worse by their sexism and rude remarks about my driving and tour guiding.
On the 14th of January, our flat was flooded by our charming neighbour upstairs, who, whilst renovating his own flat, had removed the bath and forgotten to cap the pipes. Water soaked through the building until the bathroom carpet was sodden and the kitchen ceiling stained. In his defence, he couldn't possibly have been the culprit: " 'cos am'a plumber ". A year of chasing insurance, of new lightbulbs, carpets, a whole new kitchen ceiling, of anxiety, anger, and stress.
February saw more anxious times, and sadly another stressful argument between me and Dave, fuelled by cider and Scotland's dreadful rugby performance during the Six Nations. A whole lot of crying and soul searching later, we came out a lot stronger. This was confirmed by a few days on wild Skye; me, Dave, and my female soulmate and gorgeous best friend Emily, and a month apart.
Emily and I travelled up, down, over, and around Europe, taking in Munich, Prague, Berlin, Frankfurt, Trier, Luxembourg, Brussels, Bruges, and Amsterdam. A trip I would be interested to do again with some of my lessened anxiety levels, a trip I would be intrigued to try again when me and Emily are in our thirties, a trip I would do all over again exactly the same - except for a few things. I wouldn't fancy sharing a small hostel room in Munich with two fiftyplusyearold men who snored like freight trains and didn't speak a word of English. I wouldn't stay at the same hostel in Berlin where a 'computer error' saw a male put in an all female room. Shock horror you say - well, an excusable error if the young man in question had had a good nights sleep and hadn't puked all over the floor at 3am. I wouldn't eat that spinach in Trier again. I wouldn't revisit the hotel in Brussels that had probably modelled itself on the hotel from The Shining. I wouldn't have engaged the over-friendly Canadians in conversation in the hostel in Bruges if I'd known they were going to be horribly obnoxious and then drop (and spectacularly break) Emily's camera.
But. What a fantastic trip despite those moments. Experiences and memories that will last a lifetime; moments of sheer joy when recalling all the laughs. And the pigeons. And this.
And then. A 25th birthday. A summer of tours - with good, bad, and indifferent moments. A year anniversary. My brother, home from France. A burn-out. A baby for my cousin. Time spent with Dave's brother and family, over from Australia. Signed off with stress. A Munro. A blog. A time to reflect. A chance to change, to grow, to learn. A return to touring, and an exit. A resignation, and a rejuvenation.
And now. 2012. A year of progression, transition, movement. I begin 2012 with an air of positivity. I have hopes and fears. I have things to anticipate, and things to be pro-active about. I have mountains to climb and streams to ford and rainbows to follow and dreams to find.
Yes!! Here we go 2012!!
Christmas and Hogmanay passed quickly, as always, and without stress. I made far more of an effort this year not to get stressed out (why get stressed out?) and it paid off. A very enjoyable time, with family, food, and fun. A temporary Christmas contract with M&S made me feel active and hard-working. I caught up with good friends from university, and on Auld Years Nicht a small gathering in mine and Dave's flat provided many laughs.
I began 2011 hungover and shameful - after a drink-fuelled argument with my boyfriend of five months. I continued in an employment that - even then - I was unhappy in. I struggled through January feeling very low. Tours were ruined by the snow; on one occasion I was stuck in Dalmally trying to get to Inveraray. The road to Inveraray was closed, the road back to Tyndrum was closed. There was only one way I could go - west towards Oban, then through Ballachulish, Glencoe, and over Rannoch Moor. At certain moments, as I manoeuvred my way over one of the last great wildernesses in Europe, visibility was zero, snow and darkness consumed everything. The snow poles were useless. The road - that I driven so many times - seemed to change and move in ways it had never done before. Hellish, but I made it. On another occasion last January, I took a bunch of heckling Lithuanians through Highland Perthshire, another tour spoiled by the snow, but made worse by their sexism and rude remarks about my driving and tour guiding.
On the 14th of January, our flat was flooded by our charming neighbour upstairs, who, whilst renovating his own flat, had removed the bath and forgotten to cap the pipes. Water soaked through the building until the bathroom carpet was sodden and the kitchen ceiling stained. In his defence, he couldn't possibly have been the culprit: " 'cos am'a plumber ". A year of chasing insurance, of new lightbulbs, carpets, a whole new kitchen ceiling, of anxiety, anger, and stress.
February saw more anxious times, and sadly another stressful argument between me and Dave, fuelled by cider and Scotland's dreadful rugby performance during the Six Nations. A whole lot of crying and soul searching later, we came out a lot stronger. This was confirmed by a few days on wild Skye; me, Dave, and my female soulmate and gorgeous best friend Emily, and a month apart.
Emily and I travelled up, down, over, and around Europe, taking in Munich, Prague, Berlin, Frankfurt, Trier, Luxembourg, Brussels, Bruges, and Amsterdam. A trip I would be interested to do again with some of my lessened anxiety levels, a trip I would be intrigued to try again when me and Emily are in our thirties, a trip I would do all over again exactly the same - except for a few things. I wouldn't fancy sharing a small hostel room in Munich with two fiftyplusyearold men who snored like freight trains and didn't speak a word of English. I wouldn't stay at the same hostel in Berlin where a 'computer error' saw a male put in an all female room. Shock horror you say - well, an excusable error if the young man in question had had a good nights sleep and hadn't puked all over the floor at 3am. I wouldn't eat that spinach in Trier again. I wouldn't revisit the hotel in Brussels that had probably modelled itself on the hotel from The Shining. I wouldn't have engaged the over-friendly Canadians in conversation in the hostel in Bruges if I'd known they were going to be horribly obnoxious and then drop (and spectacularly break) Emily's camera.
But. What a fantastic trip despite those moments. Experiences and memories that will last a lifetime; moments of sheer joy when recalling all the laughs. And the pigeons. And this.
And then. A 25th birthday. A summer of tours - with good, bad, and indifferent moments. A year anniversary. My brother, home from France. A burn-out. A baby for my cousin. Time spent with Dave's brother and family, over from Australia. Signed off with stress. A Munro. A blog. A time to reflect. A chance to change, to grow, to learn. A return to touring, and an exit. A resignation, and a rejuvenation.
And now. 2012. A year of progression, transition, movement. I begin 2012 with an air of positivity. I have hopes and fears. I have things to anticipate, and things to be pro-active about. I have mountains to climb and streams to ford and rainbows to follow and dreams to find.
Yes!! Here we go 2012!!
I conquered Schiehallion!!!
Ok........so it wasn't the mountain, but its namesake beer was delicious!! Thanks Alun!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)