A Long Walk in the Rain

Well, folks, I’m back. Whole, strong, tired, enlivened, and thoroughly adventured. I would like to preface this post thusly: This trip went exactly as planned, of which there was only a minimal skeleton so it could have gone many ways and still have been perfect.

I also want to mention one other thing. I have thought it through for the last week, and feel that I can mention it without misunderstanding and trust that people will not read any further into it than exactly what I say in the following as there truly is no more to it than this. I traveled with only one classmate, which odds make a female, namely Kristi. It was a wonderful experience to be able to have a meaningful experience with a person and to have no pressure of romance hanging over the situation, usually I can only accomplish this with men, but fortunately I have happened upon (for the most part) a group of women who feel like we can all be mature adults and share these experiences without the overtures. I have made my feelings about remaining in my current romantic condition, that is none and nil, very clear. It is just not something I want to complicate my struggles with. And I feel like people understand where I am at, and why I want what I want. That all being said, Kristi is a wonderful and interesting woman, indeed a good friend, and most of all a great person to travel with. She was understanding of all of my feelings and very open to the adventure that I desired.

But this adventure was not about who I traveled with, although she played an important role in making it what it was, it was about the spirit of adventure, the kindness of strangers, and the awe with which I continue to be struck when I explore exciting and beautiful places and people.

So here I present you with the story (and some pictures)…

When my master and I were walking in the rain, he would say,
"Do not walk so fast, the rain is everywhere.”
-Shunryu Suzuki Roshi-

Friday, 7 October, 2005
~10:00pm
I met Kristi at the bus stop on Cleveland Road, excited, tired, and a little unsure.
~10:30pm
We arrived at Heathrow, where we were catching our bus to Glasgow.
~11:30pm
The bus finally arrived about a half an hour late. We shuffled on; most seats were full so we were resigned to sitting across the aisle and one seat apart from each other. The next five minutes were when the romance of travel very quickly met the reality. After having himself a smoke, a very incredibly drunk Glasgowian boarded the bus and sat directly behind Kristi. He immediately began harassing her, which, thank god, she handled perfectly. She turned her iPod up and just ignored him. When he started making violent threats to everyone sitting nearby she got up and moved to the front of the bus. I say thank god, and I appreciate that she took care of herself, because having shared the bus with this man for fifteen minutes I was beginning to feel obligated to say something and make sure Kristi was OK and I am pretty sure that if I had he would have at least challenged me to a fight, if not just punched me in the face. So for the next three hours I pretended to be asleep, all the while keeping my ears open and my eyes cracked to keep track of the Scot while he worked his way through five more beers, and quite a few of my fellow bus mates, picking on them, yelling, randomly using language that I was surprised to hear. You could feel the tension on the bus. We arrived at our resting point at about 3am outside of Manchester at a truck stop where the Scotsman got off to have a smoke. I went up to check on Kristi and talk to my fellow travelers a bit, try to get a read on what should be done etc. But we were too late. Just as we were scheduled to depart at 3:30, we watched with trepidation as the drunk weaved his way out of the building and back towards our bus. He boarded and then as we waited and waited for the drivers (there were three) he got a hankerin’ for some KFC, and got off only to be met by the drivers, and about five minutes later was led off by Manchester’s finest to sleep off his Fosters in that city, some six hours from his (and our) intended destination. The rest of journey was uneventful and I finally got a few hours of bus sleep.


Saturday, 8 October, 2005
I woke up about an hour outside of Glasgow (Glas-go, not to be patronizing but I am going to thorw in some pronunciations because I was corrected all week, and I think they are interesting), and watched the mist hanging in the hills as we approached. I must say that our travel worked out pretty perfectly from a logistical standpoint. It was always off one bus, right onto the next, and right on and right on. It would have been nice to have some time to explore some of our transition cities, but it would have been hard toting the backpacks everywhere. And no matter what there is always more to see.

I have to say the drive from Glasgow to Oban(Oh-bin), was among the most spectacular of my life. It was through Scotland’s Western Highlands home to the Clans so formative in Scotland’s history. Beautiful mountains, rivers, and rainbows almost constantly, tiny stone villages, and castle ruins. The picture below is from where we stopped for a break in a town called Inveraray. It is a historic little town and quite cute.

Inveraray

We arrived in Oban to meet the ferry that would take us to Mull and stepped right on board to some of the most spectacular views of which I have included my favorite.

Looking back on Oban

(Ok, so I have about 120 pictures from this trip so… Obviously they’re not all going up, but I am sure I will share them all with you at some point on my return, maybe I will have a graduation/coming home party and put them together for people to peruse, anyway so hard to pick my favorites)

After the ferry ride we stepped right on to the bus that would take us from our landing point on the south of the island, Craignure (I have no idea, but if you say it fast enough with as little pronunciation as possible most people know what you are taking about) to Tobermory (exactly like you think) which was to be our base for the next few days. The next part of this story is just one of those things that just happens and it is so perfect when it does you barely realize it, but in retrospect it is something very special. We sat down on the bus and this middle-aged man sat in front of us, Kristi and I continued our conversation and right before we departed he turned and introduced himself to us. He was a native son, a history professor in London who had returned to give a speech in Tobermory, in honor of its clock tower’s centenary. He asked if we would like him to point things out and tell us some stories on the hour-long ride? Of course! So we had our own personal tour guide on the winding single-track way to Tobermory. Mull is the traditional seat of the Clan MacLean and was one of the meeting places for the Lords of the Isles. The MacLean’s most prominent member is Robert the Bruce, a seminal figure in the unification and fight for the freedom of Scotland. So the island is full of this history dating back almost a millennium. Despite the history it is impossible not to mention the beautiful views of the mainland and the waters separating the island.

Tobermory

Upon Arriving in Tobermory around 2pm we thanked the professor and departed the bus and headed to wards the youth hostel which was on the opposite side of the idyllic bay and in the picture is pink, the third from the right. There was a sign on the front desk saying they wouldn’t be open ‘till 5. So we hoofed it back around the bay to the bar. It was packed with locals and were lucky enough to find some willing to share there booth with a couple of smelly, exhausted Americans with backpacks. We ordered some pub grub and totally zoned out for about an hour. Then went back to the hostel to nap until they opened. After we checked in we went for a beautiful walk in a park that abuts Tobermory called Aros Park.

View from Aros Park

It has phenomenal views of the town, the bay and mountains beyond. Colors and mist that look painted.

Sunset in Aros Park

As we walked back into town we passed a back alley Bistro that we stopped at for dinner, it was pretty local. Just a few of the towns couples in for a quiet meal. You could hear the owner/waitress/cook singing 80’s ballads as she cleaned.

Then back to the hostel where I crashed hard. 8:30 lights out for Mike.


Sunday, 9 October, 2005
We woke up early and headed to get some coffee. I am not a big caffeine person but I needed a little jump-start.

After consulting the topographic map in the hostel’s lounge we decided to head towards a place called Glengorm Castle, it looked to be about 5 miles and a pretty good altitude change (150meters). While our first day vacillated between sun and showers producing those unbelievable rainbows the next few days were just going to be cold, rainy, and cloudy, just the way I like ‘em. It was a great walk. We walked through Glen Gorm, a forest through the rolling Mhors of Mull, and eventually we could see Glengorm Castle out in the distance. But between us lay an unforeseen obstacle. The iconic Highland cows were out and using the road, which was cut into the side of the hills, for shelter from the wind.

A Highland Cow gives me a dirty look

These massive cows can weigh upwards of 1200lbs and have some serious horns. So we ended up scrambling up the side of hill and then back down looking for safe passage. After several slips and puddles, and a few menacing moos we found our way around, wind-whipped and drenched, but safe.

Glengorm Castle

As we approached the castle we found a café and art gallery situated outside. It looked warm so went inside and dried off for a moment and asked how to get to the castle. Well, it turns out the Castle is now a B&B so we got as close as we could and ended up out in the hills walking around some beautiful country. We then headed back for the café.

See, I really was there. And wet. And happy.

I am going to interject here that Mull or at least Tobermory was a surprisingly green town. Green as in the color yes, but more importantly earth friendly. Our hostel had won some awards for its eco-friendliness, most places served organic food, almost all things were grown locally, they burned peat for heating, fair trade coffee, the works. It was very nice to see and be a part of.

Back to the story, this café was super green. Organic everything. A little grocery of stuff I have been having a hard time finding in Uxbridge. It was wonderful. We both had the Lentil soup and after our long walk in the rain it was the best I have ever tasted.

After lunch we took up a retired Newcastle couple’s offer for a ride back to Tobermory. They were a very sweet couple and it was really nice of them to offer us a ride, neither of us were looking forward to mountain-goating back around those cows.

When we got back we were wandering around town looking for something to do and we stopped in to the tourist center and I swear to god the lady said this when asked what we should do... In a thick Scottish brogue, “Go to the bar and get drrrunk.” So with little other choice we headed back to the bar to have a dram of one of the local whiskies. It was the perfect thing to warm a cold chest on a wet day.

After drinks and dinner at the pub we hung out at the hostel trying to make plans for the next day and getting back. Sitting in the foyer working at the computer I overheard the manager have this conversation with someone checking in, after this you will better understand our weather.
Guest: “Weather can’t get much worse.”
Manager: “Oh don’t say that. There are days the rain’s comin’ in the back door, and the sea in the front.”
Plans made we headed to our rooms to get some much needed sleep. I however met quite the character when I entered my room. It was a dorm style hostel, so I was sharing my room with two other men each night. I ended up talking to an 18 year old named Aaron who is from Fort Collins, CO, and is taking some time off before entering college, he was interesting chap, wearing a kilt, and also an audiophile, guitarist, atheist, and Celtic literature buff. It is always interesting to get to know people and their stories and Aaron was no exception.

After I excused myself and got ready for bed I laid in the dark for a long time listening to the wind blow a cold rain against the building and the waves crash right outside the front door. It was a beautifully wet night.


Monday, 10 October, 2005
We met early and went to the local bakery to get coffee and a pastry, which we took to the pier and ate as we watched the morning tide rolling out, it had yet to start raining so it was a very nice calm way to wake up.

We then headed to the local distillery for a tour. It was brief, but interesting. It always fascines me to see how things are made and Scotch is no different. At the end I bought myself a bottle, I really hope I can find it in the states, its good.

From the distillery we headed into the hills on the other side of town to quest for a lighthouse that was supposed to be kind of neat. Of course it had started to rain so we geared up and headed out. We had quite a pleasant walk out and a nice chat. When we arrived at the lighthouse we met a group of walkers and talked to a sweet old man, who was just kind and interested and positive. I was really struck by the kindness people exhibited us on this adventure. I really feel affirmed in my belief that people are innately good and kind.

View from my conversation with the old man

After taking some pictures and talking for a bit we headed back to the Hostel to get dry and wait for the bus. Once again our transportation was spot on.

View from the Oban ferry of Duart Castle, seat of the clan MacLaen.

Straight from one to the next. Soon we were whisking though the dark on our way to the Loch Lomond (Lock Low-mend) Youth hostel.

Now this is a story.

As we were beginning to draw near, civilization started fading. There were almost no lights flashing outside of the bus anymore and my heart began to race a little. It was pouring rain and pitch black outside. As we stepped off the bus we asked where the hostel was and the driver pointed to a sign across the road that merely pointed up a driveway with no lights in sight. The fates had seen fit to remind me to bring a flashlight and as Kristi and I hudled close to its dim, rain muted beam we slowly made our way up the tree ensconced drive. We could probably see about ten feet and most of that was obscured by large heavy raindrops. I am not ashamed to admit that had bolt of lightning struck at this moment I would have had to change my pants. We trudged about a quarter mile up the path before we saw some movement in the light just beyond the raindrops. Both of us jumped. Fortunately it was only a couple who had forgotten their flashlight and were able to reassure us that we were indeed on the correct path. As we turned the final bend we came on what can only be considered a castle. Its 13th century stone architecture barley visible from the few lights peaking through the heavy curtains inside. The inside is no different. Much less creepy, but still very Castle. It was a beautiful place to spend the night. Right outside the dormitories at the peak of the dormers were two signs as old as the building and a testament to the longevity of my theory of kindness.
They read as follows:
“Peace be with all who ‘neath this roof-tree rest.”
And
“Peace with the coming and the parting guest.”

I slept soundly and safely through the night.

The Loch Lomond Youth Hostel.
Now imagine it the night before.

Tuesday, 11 October, 2005
Tuesday morning we walked into Balloch, a nearby town, and ourselves breakfast with the locals. My first eggs since I got here. I have been nearly vegan since I come over here and it was nice to eat my favorite breakfast, eggs and toast. We then went up to Balloch castle and gardens which provided spectacular views of the Loch and surrounding highlands.

Balloch Castle

After meandering around the estate for a while we headed back through Balloch and took a footpath out of town towards Cardross, which took us up the other side of the valley with more ancient views.

Footpath to Cardross

After our walk we had lunch/dinner and headed back to the hostel to wait for our bus and journey home.

The bus ride back to Glasgow was no biggie, and it came on time, though we did have to make our way back down the darkened path and stand in the rain for a few minutes to catch it.

We waited at the bus stop for an hour and when our bus finally arrived we were happy to see not many people aboard and few people waiting so we quickly got aboard and staked out the long bench seat in the back so that we could both stretch out and get some sleep. Then about five minutes before we were scheduled to depart a group of young, drunk Scotsman got on. This couldn’t be happening again… Yes it could, they sat right in front of us, and one of them, the drunkest of all, sat right between us. The next hour we tried our best to hold him at bay and keep him happy as to not have a repeat of anger and crazedness. Thank god his companions were actually with it a bit and when he got up to get a smoke in the bathroom helped us escape up to the front of the bus where we were safe, and able to finally get some sleep. The rest of our journey was uneventful. We arrived back on campus just as the first light of day was shining through the low clouds.


It was an amazing journey. An adventure to be sure.
Glad to have done it, glad to be back. Warmed heart, strong will.

I have drunk deeply, and I feel like I was also able to share myself with a lot of people.


I feel full of life.