Travelling light with companions

Travel light

'Pilgrims must travel light, otherwise they cannot continue on their way. Their equipment is designed for the journey and they do not fill their rucksacks with unnecessary 

possessions which only slow them down. As they walk, they discover other treasures: an inner peace, new ways of feeling, a delight in nature. It is because the are on the move that they can make new discoveries. And because they do not possess, they are able to enjoy everything.' (Gerard Hughes: In Search of a Way, p117)

I have lost stuff on the walk. A hat in a bog, which had slipped from a rucksack strap (I mourned). My treasured walking stick of 25 years, left at a B&B on Mull (I mourned some more). A tub of foot cream, slipped out of a pocket. Other bits and bobs. And then I have also decided that stuff I have been carrying for a week or more that I have not needed, I have left behind. A pair of trousers and some surprisingly heavy packets of wipes and cleansers. Travelling light is a lovely idea. But despite my best efforts, the rucksack still weighs more than I would like. I can't ditch the tent, the sleeping bag and other camping-related kit because it will be needed later in the walk.

Travelling light is an attitude of mind also, I am learning. It means learning to let go of the mistakes of the previous day and embracing the new day with a positive attitude. Also, not being able to see the full route but only a little bit at a time unfolding under your feet and to a smaller horizon enables a more full-hearted walking. The heart can easily drop when a long straight uphill path opens up before you. While a curved ascent over contours is somehow less demoralising. Travelling light seems to be not just about the burden you carry, but the sense of distance you have to cover as you carry that weight. Bite-sized bits of life are easier to digest, in other words.

Another way the burden gets lighter is by walking with companions. From Iona to Crianlarich, I have walked alone. I enjoyed the experience, walking at my pace, reciting psalms with just sheep and birds for company, and deciding when to rest and when to walk. From Crianlarich to just a few miles north of Glasgow, I have been joined by two companions - just in time for the most demanding stretches so far. Companions (those who share bread) keep you steady and provide a sense of accountability. They encourage when your emotions and energies take a dip. They provide a rhythm of walking and conversation which keeps your attention beyond yourself. And at the end of the day there is the share pleasure of remembering the trials and joys of the day's walk over a good meal and a pint. 

One thing we all have agreed, is that we always tend to think we have walked further than the map says we have and we over-estimate our accomplishments. The last three miles are always the toughest. And we need each other to push on and imagine what it will be like to take our rucksacks off at the entrance of the bunkhouse, campsite or B&B.

As I learned Psalm 122 - 'I was glad when they said to me, let us go to the house of the Lord' - I was struck how the psalmist glosses over the journey. The writer goes from the gladness of the pilgrimage to suddenly, in verse two, being able to say: 'And now, our feet are standing within your gates, O Jerusalem.' This is travelling light, surely!! It is as if the psalter creators what to encourage the pilgrims on the long slog with the news that they too will find their feet standing within the gates of their destination. What this psalm also captures is the real sense of comradeship which the pilgrims have as they share the journey. Verse eight says: 'For my kindred and companions' sake, I will pray that peace be with you.' Praying peace for fellow pilgrims helps me to travel light.

Watching over you

The Lord himself watches over you

During the last three days I have walked across Mull and met not one person coming the other way. There has been drenching rain and ever present Scottish mist (and not much difference between the two). There have also been warm breezes and spells of sun. But whatever the weather, Mull is magnificent. Forty miles of incredible valleys and streams in full-spate, waterfalls and almost inaccessible shorelines, awesome caves and flat calm lochs reflecting the mountain vistas almost perfectly - as if the mirror was as true as the view. 

During this pilgrimage I am attempting to learn the Psalms of Ascent off by heart. These are the pilgrim psalms said to have been uttered by people approaching Jerusalem for one of the great festivals of Judaism. Psalm 120, with its concern for truth, home and peace, I just have not got to grips with, yet. But it is interesting how frustration with lies, a sense of exile and a culture not seeking peace, spurs the pilgrim to head to Jerusalem. I will persist in learning it. 

But yesterday, in amongst the hills between Loch Buie and Loch Don, I found the rhythm of Psalm 121 gave me great comfort. ‘The Lord will not suffer your foot to stumble,’ was of course an apt encouragement for a pilgrim. But it was verse 5 that blew me away. After repeating the psalm some eight or nine times, it suddenly hit me: ‘The Lord himself watches over you.’ Further on verse 7 is also deeply moving: ‘The Lord will keep you from evil; it is the Lord who keeps your soul.’ I was alone on this grassy valley track tucked between significant peaks. The main road snaked some 200 yards away. It was just me, the butterflies, midges and my tears, which flowed like the mountain streams all around. I can’t yet fully explain the tears, other than sometimes when knowledge moves from the head to the heart, tears are the pathway. 

Gerard Hughes, in his book In Search of a Way, say this about pilgrimming on foot: ‘In walking it is as though ideas in the head are shaken up and some start travelling downwards to the heart, where they become full-blooded knowing, which sets off a physical reaction.’  

I wonder if you have had this experience, too?