By the time you read this I will still be out hiking on Scotland's West Highland Way, without access to internet. I will probably be suffering from blisters, trench foot (it's going to be WET) and internet withdrawal symptoms, but otherwise having a great time...
I've temporarily run out of ruminations, but didn't want to leave too long between blogs, so here is a rather gorgeous photo, taken by Mervin Thompson, of me setting out from Crescent City on 12th August.
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As hopes fade of finding Steve Fossett alive, the question presents itself again: is it ever worth dying in the pursuit of an activity that you love?
In answer to the first - I think it is for each person, adventurous or not, to decide what level of risk they are willing to accept. For some people, flying on a plane is outside their comfort zone, while others have an irresistible urge to climb Everest, where for every 6 successful summiteers, 1 will die.
On 9/11, people died at their desks. In London, commuters have died in train crashes on their way to work. There are no guarantees of safety in this life - so let's get the risks in perspective, and not allow irrational fears to hold us back from living our dreams.
For me personally, I have a low tolerance for risk and a powerful desire to stay alive as long as possible. I would not row oceans if I thought that the odds were poor. This is also why I prefer to stick to routes near the equator rather than venturing into rougher, colder waters nearer the poles. Prior preparation and learning from my mistakes have helped me mitigate the risks to an acceptable level.
For many years I dreamed of doing something adventurous, but was held back - more by fear of failure than by fear of death. Letting go of that fear was empowering - but also frightening in itself. It was almost more scary to realise that I could do anything I wanted to do than to hang on to my self-imposed limitations.
As the saying goes, Every Man Will Die. Not Every Man Will Live.
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Theory: Few things have intrinsic power. Most things only have as much power as we allow them to have. Giving away your power to externals leads to unhappiness.
I've had my share of addictions - cigarettes, alcohol, sugar, eating, not eating. At the time it seemed that each of these things had uncontrollable power over me. But they only had that power because I allowed it. At any time I could have decided; enough. I am reclaiming my power.
Every day countless people give away their power to externalities - their boss, their partner, food, body image, material possessions. How often do we think, "I'll be happy when I get the promotion / lose ten pounds / get a new car" or "I'm miserable, and it's all the fault of my partner / lack of money / weight"?
It doesn't have to be this way. Things are only annoying, depressing or irritating for as long as we allow them that headspace. Happiness doesn't have to wait for tomorrow, or depend on something outside of ourselves. We can be happy right here, right now - all we have to do is to allow ourselves to be. It's that simple, and that difficult.
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Unexpectedly I have internet access tonight - at the Inversnaid Bunkhouse. We are camping in the grounds tonight, but I am currently sitting in the gorgeous living room of this converted chapel, feeling clean and refreshed after my first shower in 2 days, and looking forward to a hot dinner.
My sister and I are two days into the West Highland Way, a 95-mile hike through some of Scotland's most gorgeous scenery. Not that you'd have known that this morning - we woke up after a night of rain and wind, to a view of... the inside of a cloud. We struck the tent and made ready to depart. This included the ritual of the foot repair.
I stared in horror at my left foot. I had just tried to remove the blister patch I had applied yesterday lunchtime, and in the process had apparently pulled away most of my heel. A gaping hole, about 2 inches across, had opened up in my tender skin as I pulled away the patch. Feeling a bit queasy, I stuck it back down with sticky tape. But this was not what I wanted to see on the second morning of a one-week hike.
I poked tentatively at the matching blister patch on my right heel. It had the consistency of bubble wrap, and I suspected that a similar blister lurked beneath. I decided it was better to burst it than to leave it intact, spreading ever wider beneath my tortured skin. I screwed up my eyes, took a deep breath, and pulled. Bleurgh. Another gaping hole.
But the theory worked - especially aided by a couple of painkillers. My feet have been sore today, but not as bad as yesterday.
And I have been pleasantly distracted by the spectacular scenery along the shore of Loch Lomond. The weather forecast for today had been for showers, but we seem to have dodged most of them, and have been rewarded with gorgeous views of patches of sunshine mottling the Scottish hills, golden bracken, lush moss, and pretty woodland. This is exactly the kind of place that I used to imagine in mid-Atlantic when I needed to be in my 'happy place'.
It's the best of British scenery - and suddenly I am glad to be back again on this little island I used to call home.
P.S. If anybody would like to run a hostel in one of the most beautiful parts of Scotland on the shores of Loch Lomond, the Inversnaid Bunkhouse is for sale at £300,000. Ideal for someone who loves hiking or water sports (you'd be free to do whatever you want from 10am to 4pm every day) but doesn't mind giving up their evenings to minister to the needs of footsore hikers....
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