Day three arrived and I started to pack my bag. I felt good and wanted to get started. I ate a good breakfast and got myself organized. I dawned my backpack, set up my walking poles and hit the road. As I exited the hostel, I looked up at Ben Nevis and it was only what I could describe as the physical portrayal of what my internal mind was feeling. The top of the mountain was invisible and suppressed by cloud cover, the snow that had accumulated on the upper half over the last 24 hours made the mountain impassable and unsafe to climb. But I turned my back on it and began my walk knowing the next two days were already going to test my physical limits and so I tried to suppress the mental shadows into a corner of my mind with a steel vault and walked on. Overall, the day itself was actually wonderful. I managed to avoid the rain as it stayed out in front of me but it made for difficulties when I wanted to take breaks. Everything was wet and the wind was harsh enough that I froze immediately as soon as I stopped. The temperature was so awkward for body temperature regulation that it was too cold to de-layer because of the wind but too hot to keep it all on. So the choice was – sweat my ass off or freeze my ass off – neither of which felt that great. My overloaded, oversized, too heavy pack was also weighing me down as if God had decided to add an extra 20 lbs to it just for “fun”. I have no idea where I went wrong on the packing of that beast. Last year, the same gear felt so much lighter!
My first evening on trail, I decided to push into Kinlochlevan for a 23km day. It was pouring rain upon my arrival and so I was grateful to get set up and have a nice hot shower to get rid of the sweat smells and warm up my now frozen body. It rained on and off for the entire evening and most of the overnight. I took my time in the morning of day four as the radar showed the rain would be pushing out by 10am and the rest of the day was supposed to be sun cloud mix. With a long climb right out of the gate, the last thing I wanted to do was complete that in the rain. Plus, I only had about 15km to camp and I was not about to set myself up to arrive at 11am. Forcing my over-weight pack onto my back, I began to climb what I knew was going to take at least a few hours, as I needed to climb all but the last 5km of the day. Just before heading out into the exposed mountain crossing, I watched a wall of clouds and rain begin to make its way towards me across the mountains. It was beautiful to watch and something that I would expect is only visible in this fashion by way of mountain ranges. But to me, it felt like an omen. The type of omen that was going to destroy whatever willpower I had somehow managed to bring with me.
These overbearing clouds and walls of water followed me for the bulk of the day. Attacking me every 30 – 40 minutes, bringing gusty winds with sharp cold bursts that made the atmosphere feel more reflective of fall/winter conditions than the beginning of summer. I was utterly defeated when I arrived at Kingshouse. The weather was showing solid rain for the next 8 days and based on what I knew was coming, how I was feeling and that my heart just wasn’t in it, it was an easy decision to pull the plug. Standing inside the Kingshouse Hotel, trying to talk my way through my tears with the clerk, I was able to secure a bus back to Glasgow. All I cared about at this moment was getting out of the 50+km/h wind gusts, walls of water that kept repeating themselves and find myself a warm bed for the night. The niggle, turned overbearing shadow, had now officially morphed into a full on tornado of destruction and it was successfully crushing me.
When I arrived in Glasgow, the sun was shining and I was exhausted. I found myself in a unique hotel that resembled that of a university/college campus dormitory called The Social Hub. It was so unique. In getting settled into my room, cleaned up and re-finding the sense of feeling safe, the enormity of the decision that I had made that afternoon started to hit me. However, it was not regret that I was feeling. Surprisingly, it was excitement and anticipation for the adventures I could now have within the city limits. I spent my evening exploring the local museum options (which included way too many to see in one day) and trying to figure out which ones I would want to see the most within a reasonable distance from my hotel. Scotland museums are all free entry and that realization made me want to see them all. But I had also re-booked my flight to return to Ontario a full week earlier than originally planned. And so, I had to narrow it down to the main museums I would like find the most interesting. In the end, I settled on the Glasgow Cathedral, Glasgow Infirmary Museum, St. Mungo’s Museum of Religious Life and Art and the Provand’s Lordship Museum (the oldest house in Glasgow).
The pivot to explore the city instead of the naturalistic endeavours of Scotland was also another first for me. Again, back to my usual avoidance of tons of people! But this was different. I found myself thoroughly enjoying these moments and taking in the learning that was happening in these various museums around me. Saturday evening, I also ventured out to take in a show at the local Concert Hall which was a Burlesque performance. A unique change to what I have ever seen before.
On so many levels, this trip could be classified a complete failure. I failed myself by allowing my demons to completely demolish my ability to push through adversity and persevere to what I know could have likely been another successful thru-hike, be it a wet, cold, miserable thru-hike. I failed to be content in my aloneness and allowed the feelings that correlated encourage the decision to cut my hike short. But in the end, it really comes down to what one would call a failure over a success. It is all in the perspective of the viewer really. To define success or failure is not to say something went right or went wrong. To me, it is in the eyes of the beholder, the one who experienced it and their determination of the value in which it had for themselves.
For me, I see this trip as a success. The whole point of not planning the entirety of the trip was to allow for spontaneity and that is exactly what happened. I got the best of several different worlds and pathways that would not have been created for me if I had of not “failed” on the thru-hike attempt. I got to climb a mountain, see a childhood dream from a movie set, backpack for two days through the highlands and learn about the history of religion in Scotland, the Jacobite uprising, the various medical developments that we still use today and the best learning of all was that the complete change of plans was allowed. After all, it was my trip. The only person who can label or define its outcome a failure or success is myself!
Adventure is not about the expectation but about the experiences you allow yourself to embrace. Whether they be alone or with others, planned or unplanned, spontaneous or not, real adventure is never going to include standardized by a set of rules. If a set of rules and regulations outline the boundaries of what you can and cannot do then it is a trip and not an adventure. So, to the demons in my mind – bring it on! Because if that is the best you can do, then I will win every time! All you did was teach me that I am capable of anything, can be anyone I want to be and embrace adventure for what it is truly supposed to be.
