False starts and happy endings: Walking in the Highlands, Part Three

Saturday, 3 October 2020

I'm barely even sore from yesterday. Weird. All the more reason to go ahead with my even more ambitious plans for today.

After an even more severely edited Scottish breakfast -- I got the quantities right this time -- I get ready for my walk. It's cold and rainy, and the forecast is for rain all day, but fortunately I have waterproof everything. I even remembered to pack my contact lenses, which I pretty much never wear, to avoid the annoyance of rain on my glasses. So I am very much ready to go.

Except I forgot the cardinal rule: "Be bold, start cold." I have put on everything, and as I venture out into the rain and the cold I think I need it all. But a couple of miles in, I am miserably sweaty, and consequently cold. I take off a layer and then think, no, I don't think it's a great idea to risk another nine miles when I've already botched my thermal regulation so badly; that feels like a good way to get sick. So I head back, somewhat dispirited, but feeling sensible. And it's not as though I didn't get any good scenery along the way.

False start #1.

Sunday, 4 October 2020

It's my last day. I'm up early and get in as much walking as I can before breakfast. I'll have an omelet today, I think.

My esophagus, alas, just isn't having it. When it gets in one of its moods, there's nothing to be done but let it pout for a while and then try again later. So no breakfast.

False start #2.

I pack my things, and my host drives me to the station, where I'll catch the 11:39 train back to Edinburgh.

Which is canceled. There were storms all over the UK yesterday, blah, blah, blah.

The train after that? Also canceled.

False start #3.

As a dedicated watcher of British panel shows, I've heard tons of jokes about unreliable rail service in Britain -- the phrase "replacement bus service" is always good for an easy laugh -- so in a weird way this seems right. Here's Miles Jupp on Mock the Week, for example.


There is, of course, a bus due in at the same time.

It is, of course, not there.

But there's a delightful lady waiting for it with me -- she was actually meant to be on the bus, not the train -- and she seems convinced that it really will come. And right about the time that the two of us have agreed will be the time we give up on it, it comes.

It's really only supposed to go to Perth, but in light of the storms, blah, blah, blah, it's going all the way to Edinburgh.

And so I get home, a little later than I had planned, too late to make the 3:30 Eucharist at the Cathedral, but still: home.

I have walked more and farther and harder than I would have thought possible. I have seen beautiful things and had wonderful meals. The waterproof everything actually did keep the water out.

I expect I'll be really sore tomorrow, though.