How I ever managed to get to sleep on the hard uneven ground below the tarp I shall never know, my limbs,shoulders and back aching from the stresses I'd put them through during the first half of the trek.
It was raining again and the damp cold air welcomed me back from my cozy dream state as I emerged from the warmth of the bivibag but something felt wrong with my face. A cold damp lump on my cheek. Using my hand I wiped my face, a slug dropped off. Ew! Using my middle finger I gave it a hardy flick, promptly evicting it from my personal living space where it had landed.
Yes it was raining once again, welcome back to Scotlands west coast. I was alright though, I was sheltered beneath a cheap ground sheet I'd bought for £9 from a hardware store in kyle. I was living every boys dream of battling against nature and living a self reliant lifestyle away from the socially acceptable norm. I must have been mad, a temporary lapse of judgement. Escaping from the confines of a controlled state where men in suits dictate what is good for you and ultimately what is bad. A modern form of slavery that binds every citizen of the country without them knowing it. A land of freedom, I was free, I was completely free, a free man and boy it was hard work. Every boys dream, maybe for a weekend but for eight months thats just simply the talk of a mad man. Was I mad, how would I be able to tell, what are the signs. It was a question I pondered over as I poured what remained of the tainted water I'd collected the evening before in to my saucepan along with a beans and potato ration. My last breakfast ration.
As the water boiled I wondered what this delightful meal would taste like. Eight minutes later I'd find out, it tasted like beans and potato, it tasted like one of the best breakfasts I'd ever had. In fact they always did with the exception of the feeeze dried scrambled eggs and potato ration pack jo had got me a few months earlier. That meal was truly rank and despite being hungry I couldn't stomach it leaving a fair amount left in the bottom of the pack. This breakfast was nice and went down a treat, scraping as much from the packet as I could I found myself wishing for seconds.
Packing my gear away beneath the tarp was easy. I was able to sit upright on my bivibag and remain sheltered from the wind and the sudden downpours amongst the light showers. I left the tarp till last, getting my wet weather gear on and tying up the laces on my boots all the time hoping for a small break in the weather. It didn't happen. Seizing the chance to untie and fold the tarp up when it was lightly spitting I jumped into action moving as quickly as possible. I'd just about finished rolling the tarp up, my gear now dripping with cold water, as the rain subsided. Thats just typical, I thought. I attached the tarp to my pack and swung the load onto my back. In doing so I noticing that the pack was now becoming manageably lighter. Either that or I had overnight become increasingly stronger.
I headed over to the end of the bay to the section I'd been gazing at the night before planning my escape, the route I would climb and scramble up to reach the tree line above. It must have rained quite heavily and continuously overnight as the mud was sliding down the slope and I wasn't able to get a good foot hold to start my ascent off. After a couple of attempts and stepping back to search out another route I conceded to accept the fact that I wouldn't be leaving that way, I would have to go back up through the woods and marshes the way I had arrived at the bay. I never liked going back it felt like I was retreating but I had no choice. Picking up my own trail I followed the imprints of my boots in the mud back into the thick of the trees. I was slowly becoming disoriented a fact that became very apparent after traipsing through the woods looking for new trails to pick up abd ending up back where I had started that morning, back looking down a familiar treeline towards the bay. Fresh footprints leading up the muddy slopes between the trees towards me.
I turned around and once again followed my footprints back, this time trying to stay true and not wandering off trail looking for an alternative route round. Continuing in the same direction eventually led me back to the bay I'd found with the ruined cottage and from there finding the trail back to the track was simple. I'd wanted to venture closer to the coast as explained by billy but the weather had made the terrain impassable at the bay and I'd have to follow the track along the loch side, eventually leading me up to the road that ran parallel and above.
It was mostly a clear day with odd showers here and there but that wasn't a bother. As the day progressed and I continued along the road I began to notice the wind picking up. It was the wind that concerned me the most, it had a bite to it that I could feel on my hands. It was a chilling bite that could if not watched bring on the first stages of hypothermia. I was alone, I had no companion to keep an eye on me. I was alone and only I could keep an eye on me. Would I recognise the symptoms, did I fully understand what had happened back in Plockton. I knew I was confused whilst stood in the toilets, I knew I wasn't feeling right but would I recognise it if it happened again and how would I manage myself and take control of the situation and stop myself from loosing control spiraling into a state where there was simply no return. Plockton had shaken me up badly. I stopped by a small waterfall and made a mug of coffee. Sat at the side of the road I reassured myself that I'd be more aware of my body and the weather conditions. It was going to get worse before it would begin to appear to get better, much worse. Winter was well on its way and there would be several more months before it would become noticeable that spring was on its way.
The hot liquid gave a comforting warming within me. I packed my stove away and continued along the road to arnisdale, a small village where I have been told the author of the james bond novels, ian Fleming's father lived and I would assume the young fleming would have grown up.
The road continued around the bay and its little floating pier passing the village post office, a garden shed situated in the garden behind one of the houses that sported the familiar red oval of the post office emblem. Only open on Monday and Tuesday between sometime in the morning and lunchtime.
At the end of the road was the hamlet of Corran, the road went no further. I was once again beginning to feel the cold, the wind blasting against my body in waves. Passing the Corran community hall I decided to stop for a hot chocolate. I went onto the veranda and crouched down behind the wall. The whole building shook as wave after wave the wind struck the sides. My hands were beginning to feel numb with cold now and the thought of drinking hot chocolate filled my thoughts obsessively.
It was taking a long time for the water to boil and I found myself pacing up and down anxiously waiting to see a plume of vapour escape from the saucepan lid indicating the water was beginning to boil as well as keeping myself warm knowing that if I stopped my body temperature would drop and I'd have to begin warming myself up once again.
Trying to take my mind off the chill I looked around at the scenery and the small community of houses. Driving towards me I saw a familiar green van. It was billy. As the van approached I gave him a friendly wave. The van pulled up alongside me, this time the passenger window was wound down. "You made it then! " billy exclaimed. We began to chat about the journey I'd made from last speaking with him and I tried to explain where I'd spend the night. I then explained my plans for negotiating the next section of the trek that would take me around knoydart.
Billys house was the last house in the hamlet. It sat on the side of the loch overlooking the impressively mountainous peninsula across the loch. An old footpath had been built leading away from the other side of his cottage towards Kinloch Hourn about 250 years earlier although it was never finished. In fact they only got about half way. 4 miles to be precise.
Offering to show me to the start I followed billy to his home and down to an old holiday caravan he'd bought to try and earn a little extra through the tourist season. "I was going to offer you this when I first chatted to you" he said "i dont want anything what youre doing is for a great cause. Anyway the path starts about 100 meters that way, see the trees turn in there and you should be able to follow the trail quite easily. At the end, I'm afraid you're on your own". The wind was howling strongly and constantly and the light was beginning to fade as billy unlocked the caravan and ushered me in. "You're welcome to stay the night, or even a couple of daya if you like". His offer was extremely tempting, I knew I wouldn't get much further that night and had to find somewhere to camp. Should I accept the offer, common sense began battling with pride. I'd already stayed in an inn in Plockton and at the backpackers on skye. I'd failed to fulfill the requirements of the challenge even though I was still determined to walk the coast all the way round. I wasn't prepared for winter but I was prepared to suffer. Should I, shouldn't I. My head began spinning. "Thank you" I said. One night inside, I'd still be spending most of my nights under the stars and I still had a good 5-8 months left to go. I knew I'd have to make changes in the way I completed the trek and accepting someones offer of shelter under bleak conditions was going to have to be one of the sensible changes I'd have to make.
No comments:
Post a Comment