The WEST HIGHLAND WAY, Scotland
‘What on earth possessed us to do this?’ she asked, watching me navigate the slippery rocks of a waterfall-drenched path. It was day three of our pilgrimage and after a challenging ten miles in the rain (with another four to go) Sara was beginning to lose her sense of humour. Her walking poles were supporting her more than her spirit by this point, it seemed …though both were necessary for the physically challenging and mentally tiring terrain along the shores of Loch Lomond. (At one point the path disappeared into the overflowing loch). But we kept going, and after nine hours of mostly ascents and descents (or so it seemed) we made it to our destination - ankles and ligaments soaking, aching, but thankfully intact - and, seven minutes late for the hourly ferry crossing to our hotel for the night. But physical tiredness can be a beautiful thing, especially when there’s no-where to go. So we sat quietly on the jetty as the rain stopped and a late afternoon sun appeared. A moment of pure bliss, alone, surrounded by nature. Over the stillness of the loch we passed each other a wee dram (purchased during our Glengoyne Distillery visit on day one - every good walk should pass by a whisky distillery :)) and ate the remains of our packed lunch. A Mars bar has never tasted so good :)
The West Highland Way is a ninety-six-mile walking trail through the Scottish Highlands. The route - which begins in Milngavie and finishes in Fort William - was created in 1980 and is completed by over 40,000 people a year. Broken down into sections (due to the remoteness and limited availability of accommodation, unless camping), it is usually undertaken over a period of between five and eight days. Reaching elevations of over 500 metres, and comprised of rocky, uneven and hilly terrain, the walk requires a certain level of fitness.
We were fortunate with the weather: just three days of rain (which is plenty when you realise your waterproofs are no longer waterproof!) and some days of sunshine. We chose April to avoid the midges, which are notorious in Scotland. And equipment-wise, we were prepared. But this is just one part of the preparation: our souls were ready, too. Having walked part of the Camino de Santiago in 2019, we intended to make this a pilgrimage. We knew it would change us - somehow, in some way. And I was fascinated to experience the energies of a ‘man-made’ route through the wildness of the untamed Highlands.
‘The Way’ is both expansive and detailed, and somewhere within all this, we are invited to walk. I love a sign-posted walk - where I don’t have to think or have a map in my hand, and in this respect the West Highland Way created the perfect backdrop. From snow-covered peaks (referred to as a Beinn, or hill, but energetically more like mountains) to the hundreds of over-flowing and spontaneous waterfalls (given the recent heavy rains) the path led us through a visual and musical soundscape. From simple trails through moss and lichen-covered forest floors (and I mean covered) to sudden views across vast glens and mountain ranges - our senses were filled to the maximum. (Each day felt like we had lived two or more day’s worth of experiences). A lot of thought and care has gone into the route - it’s a tangible feeling which never subsided the whole distance - with minimal, if any, impact to the glorious landscape. Signs (beautifully made and maintained) were kept to a minimum and over the ninety-six miles walked I only saw one item of rubbish: an aluminium can which had blown out of arm’s reach by the wind. ‘Wild and cared for’ …it’s what our planet needs, isn’t it? The accommodation was a mixture of B+B’s, guest houses and hotels - and the local food felt wholesome (wild venison for dinner and freshly caught trout for breakfast were stand-outs - though thankfully I took my own coffee). Scotland has an energetic simplicity - raw, strong and brave - reflected in the honesty of its people and landscape. I found it entrancing and grounding, and it, in turn, gave me the necessary energy and stamina.
The route, which despite beginning in the outskirts of Glasgow quickly drops into woodland and nature, builds and expands as it goes. It also follows the line of the Highlands Boundary Fault until Loch Lomond. It was interesting, energetically, to move between the Lowlands and Highlands (the Glengoyne Distillery is located on the road which separates the two geological plates, with part of their property in the Lowlands and part in the Highlands) - and to feel the difference as, over the days, we climbed into the highland depths of what had previously been a distant view ahead of us. The energies of the land varied: in parts magical and awe-inspiring and in other places more ‘basic’ energetically. Special moments included vividly bright rainbows illuminating hills we were about to climb, placing stones we had previously collected upon surprise hilltop cairns, and moments of synchronicity and near-instant manifestation which reminded me of being within the energy vortexes of Sedona. The water was crystal clear and at the higher altitudes the air had a purity of energy which felt like it emanated from within the mountains themselves. Walking the glorious Craw Knowe peak in sunshine on the fourth day…and we were almost touching the clouds. The mountains felt so light…floating, almost, between the heavens and Earth. The range of Craw Knowe felt feminine and soft…almost delicate, and later mountains (such as Buachaille Etive Mor and Ben Nevis) more ‘masculine’ in energy. But despite their strength and landmass I could detect what my spiritual guide, on day six, invited me to notice: ‘This is a special part of the land,’ he said. ‘Notice the sway of the land and how you feel within it.’ I had the distinct sense of the mountain peaks moving through space - that, whilst as solid as a mountain range can be, it was also agile.
‘It reminds me of America,’ I kept saying, aloud and to myself. The vastness, yes, but it was more than that. I could not shake the feeling that I was on American soil. Sharing this with one of our fellow travellers - a lovely man called Steve, who’s pace and humour dropped into ours at different parts of the Way - he reminded me that many eons ago - 60 million years, apparently - Scotland was joined to America and Greenland and was once part of the Appalachian Mountain Range. The sense of this - from the still virgin and untouched land - was omnipresent and powerful. And fascinating…as in, how can that be, these millions of years later?
Our crossing of Rannoch Moor was in the rain and low clouds. Denied the view and buffeted by a harsh wind, I focused on the energies around my feet, noticing it felt both masculine and feminine - a magical and magnetic blend which I was still able to absorb despite the relentless conditions. My sense is that invisible worlds live on this moor and within its interaction with the surrounding hills and glens. But Scotland is a gamble weather-wise, so you never know what you will get to enjoy view and experience-wise. So, onwards…northwards…(a surprising and tangible feeling of ‘walking north’) and after a wet and exposed ten miles, we were rewarded with a night in the gloriously located Kingshouse Hotel - and that’s when the pilgrimage pivoted for me. I, we, had at some point entered an energetic portal.
It was at breakfast (after feasting on a huge dinner - it’s amazing how hungry you get walking so many miles!) that we could see the breath-taking views…and when the rainbow of all rainbows appeared. Right in front of us, covering the whole glen we were about to walk. ‘This area is a portal,’ said my guide. Something in me knew that I would not remain the same from this point on. I wanted to stay and soak up the energy, and also, I wanted to go and head into it. We had the ‘Devil’s Staircase’ to climb that morning, but it was the combined energy of the curved valley and landscape joining the imprint of the rainbow above which had my attention. Something special had occurred.
And yet, the path continued to call me. Backpacks on…
There is an art to walking in the great outdoors, which, no matter how many times we do it, cannot be mastered. That’s its beauty…what makes us its student to the awe and majesty. To the fragility of our perception within the multitude of outcomes and moments to gaze upon. To the interaction of the weather, our bodies, the landscape…all moving and breathing together. Creating the path as it unfolds.
There is also a beauty to walking into the unknown. Into a single direction. A forgiveness which happens, as step leads to step. As the ground below us - the only known thing, when in the remoteness of unknown land - urges us forward. After a while, as the once familiar blends into the background, a sacredness arises. We walk out of ourselves and enter a liminal space: a portal of a delicious and invisible mix containing the essence of trust and the magical. Something otherworldly, carried in our steps, as we are carried into it. We are met by a fullness, which always was…and asks nothing of us. Just…nothing. As we are. Step after step, through the discomfort and because of the step,..and a lightness arises, no matter how tired and weary our body might be. This can also be the moment when we hit an invisible inner wall - if there’s a wall to be dissolved. This is what a pilgrimage does to us. It takes us to the sacred within. It keeps us on the path.
There is so much I could write about our time on the West Highland Way - and much, I sense, yet to unfold now I am back. It took me to new limits, environmentally and physically. I am home, but the ‘me’ who has returned is not the same. She is more confident and capable. More humble, and more subtle. Like the landscape maybe. I’m not sure how she will fit in…what I will discover.
And that’s the point of a pilgrimage, isn’t it?
It seems a ‘man-made’ path has made a better human out of me.
Love Delilah
PS. Some things to consider when booking a pilgrimage:
Traditionally, pilgrimages are made to a sacred or religious place, as an act of worship. They may evolve naturally and organically, and are often hundreds of years old (the Camino de Santiago is over 1000 years old, for instance). I also like to think of each day as a pilgrimage or journeying between the seen and unseen.
Be clear on your personal intention. No matter how many are in - or join - your group, it is a solitary journey.
Choose your walking companion/s wisely. It’s less so about what you have in common…it’s your walking pace and personal habits which matter most. (We were cheerily overtaken every morning by a man in his 70’s who finished hours before us). Walking speeds really do vary, especially over longer distances. Kindness and compassion, and a healthy dose of self-awareness and detachment, count during physically or emotionally challenging conditions.
A sense of humour is vital. If you can’t laugh at least half the way, don’t go. Be willing to pause, walk in silence, observe what you’ve never noticed and learn. Untie yourself from what you know.
Be respectful of your limitations - I would not attempt to camp, for instance. A pilgrimage is about going to the edge of your discomfort - not beyond it. The goodness lies in the subtlety, and can be easily missed. It is not a competition or a race. I ate something before I was hungry, drank before I was thirsty, and slept before I was tired.
Invest in the best boots and socks your money can buy (I was professionally fitted for both). And wear them in! Walk uneven ground and inclines before you go. Strengthen your ankles. Walk long distances. Prepare your posture…the smallest change to your equipment or backpack can affect the fascia of your body (and therefore create blisters). Quite a few hikers had to drop out whilst we were walking…knee injuries, blisters, etc.
A pilgrimage is emotional, mental and energetic as much as it is physical. Remember this. The spiritual comes last, somehow. (I know, not what I would say…but you get my drift).
If walking in mountainous or uneven terrain: take collapsible walking poles…I know, not a good look, but essential, I’m afraid :) (Choose a rucksack with loops for the poles - and plenty of dry-bags). Good nourishing face cream is essential at altitude and in harsh weather (I caught the sun in an overcast April, even through factor 50). And at the slightest hint of a potential blister, tape your feet with Kinesiology Tape - it's a miracle product and life saver! (yep, no blisters)
Finally, leave no trace; just love.
…and pass the love on.
(BIG thank you to my friend Sara for being an amazing - and patient - walking companion. Your wit and grace were a joy :))
Walked: 12.04.24 - 21.04.24
Distance travelled: 103.6 miles (official route is 96 miles), or 261,548 steps.
Booked through MACS Adventure.
Overnight locations:
Milngavie, Drymen, Rowardennan, Ardlui, Tyndrum, Bridge of Orchy, Kingshouse/Glencoe, Kinlochleven, Fort William.
PPS. The photos - of which I have so many! - do not do the views or energy justice. I have posted a few more on Instagram - but the only way to really experience it is to go :)