THE STORY SO FAR
Trip Start
Mar 05, 2008
1
20
Trip End
Ongoing
Where I stayed
Oslo, Oslo, Norway
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
When I tell people that I'm traveling to Australia from Ireland overland the majority of people are enthusiastic and maybe even a bit envious but quite a few people, more than I would have imagined have asked "why". I would love to have some spiritually deep, meaningful and life changing response to say in reply but I'm afraid I don't. The only response I can give is "why not" and "because its there to be done".
I got the "travel bug" from a post university trip I took through the U.S, Fiji, New Zealand and the obligatory year working visa in Australia. The words "travel bug" seem a bit cliche but in truth that's exactly what it was like for me. Its as if some form of bacteria or virus has got under my skin and I have to feed it's urge to see all places and experience all things. It was while on this trip and meeting other backpackers, hearing their stories of places they have been and plan to go, that I realized the world is still such a big place. You hear people say, and goodness knows I've said it enough times myself, that the world is a small place and sometimes through random meetings with people it can seem like a small world. However the best thing I learned from that trip was that the world is massive with so many different places to see. Getting a job in a travel company on my return provided me with a launch pad to to see more destinations like India, Nepal, Thailand, Hong Kong, Philippines, Mexico, Kenya and Tanzania. While climbing Mt Kilimanjaro and sitting in a little tent with my guide Roman and his team of porters, eating cucumber soup and fried eggs with noodles and looking around at their smiling faces that I realized to experience new cultures and to meet people like these guys was something that filled me with such a thrill that my quest to do and see more could consume the rest of my life. I also realized that if traveling to other lands was going to consume my life then trekking was going to be my hobby and that to combine them at every opportunity would make for a very happy life indeed. It was that night spent sleeping in the shadows of the mountain that I decided I was going to live the dream, my dream of traveling along the silk road from Istanbul to Beijing. In school I had always been fascinated with a road linking the east and the west, a road that was so important for trade, a launchpad for so many great explorers like Marco Polo and a battle ground for conquering armies. It was also that night I decided that I would make the trip a complete overland from Ireland to Australia, just to spice it up a bit. People have said to me that life is too short but I'm not so sure if I believe that. I believe that for most of us, if we are lucky we will live long lives and life will only seem short if you don't try and do all the things you want to do. I'm not saying that everyone should quit their job as I have done and start traveling the world but I'm sure that a lot of people reading this will have some activity that they like to do and perhaps don't do anymore because they don't feel they have the time, it might be painting, learning a musical instrument, salsa dancing or even playing with your children, whatever; my advise for anyone that wants it is too fill your life with things that make you smile or life will seem short to you. So I'm off to boat, train and automobile my may from Galway to Sydney, lets hope I have something interesting to write about along the way............
Saturday 5Th April: The journey begins
I had many different ideas on how I wanted to begin this trip. I had felt that with it's magnitude it should begin with something that makes a kind of a statement. I have lived in Galway, in the west of Ireland, for most of my adult years and I still have many of my best friends living there so it seemed like the perfect place to begin my adventure. Besides it would also add some extra mileage in the bargain. With that idea in the bag I was now back to the statement thing. I decided, eventually, that a swim in the Atlantic Ocean was the perfect way to start but as with most of my bright ideas it didn't quite go according to plan. The day started bright enough, even if my hangover from the night before was making me feel a little worse for wear but by the time we approached the beach the hailstones were beginning to fall. Unbowed I was still prepared to go ahead with the plan only to realize as we pulled up by the beach that the tide was out and I mean way out. Sitting in the car with Roie beside me and both of us looking out the window not quite sure of what to do next I eventually settled for a photograph with the distant ocean in the background. We then made our way to Leitrim for a night before heading back to Dublin. With going away parties in Galway and Dublin and a small shindig in Leitrim I think my family and friends were starting to tire and were wishing I would just go already.
Monday 14Th April: The United Kingdom
Today was the beginning of my overland trip proper, and my aim to get to Australia and was beginning with an 11hour bus and ferry ride from Dublin to London. It was the first decent piece of mileage to get under my belt and also the first long-haul bus journey of what I'm sure will be many long-haul bus journeys to come. Long-haul bus and trains are something that I will have to get used to, they will play a pivotal role in getting me to where I want to be and I'm going to need them to be cheap and reliable. It wasn't the first long-haul bus journey I've ever taken, Edinburgh to London is one that sticks in the mind quite well but also a number of others in the U.S and Australia so I knew what I was letting myself in for at least in this part of the world anyway. I'm sure it will be a totally different story when I get to places like central and southeast Asia. As the days leading up to my departure were a general mish-mash of snow, rain and cold wind I was somewhat surprised by the glorious sunshine in Dublin and I remember thinking is the sun shinning because its happy I'm leaving or is it a gentle reminder of how good Dublin can look on a summers day. Either way I took it as good omen, said goodbye to family and friends and made my way to the station.
The one-way fare on euro lines cost me Eur20 from Busaras to London Victoria coach station, not a bad fare I thought. I had been wondering who would get the bus these days and not fly. Before now it has certainly never crossed my mind to get the bus, and I'm not a great man for the joys of flying either. The queue for the bus was massive when I got there, rows of people all standing orderly around big bags of luggage. I reasoned quickly that along with the cheap bus tickets the other main attraction to going by land was the amount of luggage you can bring. Boarding the bus I was faced with the dilemma that has haunted some of my public transport stories....you know, when there are people sitting in all the double seats and its then your choice to chose who you sit beside. The dilemma is as follows, sitting beside anyone of these people can dictate whether you have a good, nice and pleasant journey or you have the most miserable and sometimes freaky few hours of your existence. Now in the past I haven't always made the correct judgments´s when faced with these circumstances. The time I boarded an Amtrak carriage with 3 newly released ex-cons from New York state Penn with one getting re-arrested in Kansas and another thinking id robbed $100 from him; also the time I was getting the bus from Longford to Galway and had some guy asking me how big my willy was would stand out as two moments I may have made the wrong choice. My decision was kind of made for me this time because I was thinking too much about it and was nearing at the back of the bus having to make a quick decision. I need not have worried though as I sat in beside Frank, a 71yr old man who has spent most of his adult life in England. He is from north Leitrim somewhere near Bundoran and was just back for a visit to check on some land of his. With my father being from Leitrim is was a stroke of luck, and we had a good chat. As we pulled out of the station I watched the sunset over Dublin and wondered how long it might be till I see that again.
As we were waiting for the coach to board the ship Frank started to begin telling me the in's and outs of his day. Now I'm not going to go into everything that we talked about, his day was action packed, but there is one story that I will tell you and its true significance will be revealed at a later stage. Between his bus to Dublin and his onwards bus to London Frank decides that he will go into a cafe for some fish, chips and mushy peas. When he had ordered his food he was told to take a seat and they would bring his food down to him when it was ready. Frank ate the fine supper but as he was walking out the door he couldn't remember if he had paid for it. Instead of going back to check, he didn't want to make a fool of himself, he mulled it over in his mind as he walked down the road. He passed an off-license on the way and thought to himself that a bottle of bulmers would be just the job to help him relax on the ferry ride. While Frank pays for the bottle he realizes he has much more money than he should have and thus came to the conclusion that he hadn't paid for his dinner. Again not wanting to look silly by going back he decides that he will say no more about it and buy 2 bottles of bulmers for the ferry. When he had finished telling me the story he asked my opinion. Now not wanting to upset my new traveling companion in any way I told him that it sounds like an honest mistake to me and that I wouldn't worry about it as it could happen to anyone. He had just finished the story when we disembarked the bus and we went our separate ways on the ferry, him to find a quiet corner were he could enjoy his few bottles and me to find another spot where I could contemplate the coming months. I got a nice couch to myself so that I could stretch out in total comfort and the ferry ride was so smooth that I wasn't even sure we had set sail. In fact I was totally taken by surprise when the announcement came for us to all go back to our vehicles, I didn't feel the 3hours go by at all. Frank was at the bus waiting for me when I arrived, a little more rosie in the cheeks than he was before I saw him last so I guess the cider went down well. After a bit of a catch-up I settled down for the bus journey ahead. It is my plan wherever possible to travel at night. The theory behind it is you can save on a nights accommodation and hopefully you can get some sleep along the way so you can arrive at your destination fresh. Also you then don't lose any of the days kept for exploring the cities. That is the theory anyway but I'm afraid that wasn't the way it panned out for this first overnight bus journey. I felt every minute of every mile as the bus edged its way across Wales and England to London. It was a complete nightmare, I was sitting on the aisle seat so every time someone passed my elbows were knocked about and thus sleeping was something of an intermittent thing. Even a break at a truck stop outside Birmingham failed to improve my mood. As I was getting off the bus I was hit with this feeling of deja-vu. It was a real drab place, but I suppose it was 4.30am, and the small tea shop dolled out the worst tea Ive ever tasted. It was upon tasting the tea that I realized I had been here before. While traveling from Edinburgh to London I had stopped in the same truck stop and it was the taste of the luke warm tea with a floating layer of scum on the top that brought it all back to me. Needless to say I was in even less jovial mood getting back on the bus 30min's later. However my poor mood was lifted by Frank and it is at this moment that the significance of his last story comes into play. On sitting down Frank asked if I had bought anything. When id finished my tea complaint he took a packet of crisps and a bottle of coke out of his pocket and said that these were what he got...but that I would never believe what happened. He then proceeded to tell me the same story as with the fish and chips but this time he had put the crisps and coke in his pocket while he glanced at a newspaper and totally forgot to pay for them before leaving the shop, and sure its too late now to go back as he would just look like a silly old fool. Well, I just couldn't contain the laughter, I was nearly doubled over with the pain and it only got worse as I heard him tell another passenger the story after another small truck stop later in the journey except this time it was with a bottle of fanta and a mars bar. Good old Frank in his typically Irish country look of woolen cap, black faded blazer and big bushy eyebrows he had been robbing from every shop he entered since he had arrived in Dublin that afternoon. I made a mental note to keep a close eye on these Leitrim folk for now on. classic!!
I arrived at the Piccadilly backpackers, with the sun already out on a lovely morning in London, totally shattered. All i was ready for at this stage was a shower and bed. Unfortunately the rooms in the hostel, £18 a night, were not available till 2pm which meant i had another 5hours to kill. Not to be downbeat so early in the trip i took advantage by doing a few of the touristy things. I took a stroll from Piccadilly to Buckingham Palace and then down to Westminster, the London eye and Downing Street before returning to the hostel via Covent garden and Piccadilly circus. I remember first seeing Buckingham Palace as a child on a family holiday to London and i must say it was as boring an experience now as it was then. The only interesting thing i find is the guards, I'm sure we have all dreamed of a job where we can get paid to stand around and do nothing but to me that's got to be the toughest stand around and do nothing jobs that you could possibly get paid for. I don't know how they can stand like that for hours at a time. What do they think about?? By the time i had paid a visit to these sights it was time to check into the hostel for a much needed shower and a little power nap. That night i hooked up with Derek, a work colleague from Dublin, for a few beers out in Hammersmith. Derek worked alongside me in the travel agents but has since moved back to London and when i knew i would be heading this way he was high on my list of people to see. Over a few pints of bitter we chatted about all the gossip from the Dublin office, my trip and of course cricket. I went to sleep that night contented to finally have the first proper days traveling behind me and that my trip was now well underway. I also slept well knowing that the next big days activity was already in the bag "the cricket".
On the Wednesday was the first official day of the English county championship. Surrey were playing Lancashire and courtesy of Derek i discovered it was going to be the first match marking the return of Freddie Flintoff from injury. Now i know what most of you maybe thinking, cricket....i cant believe he likes cricket!! Believe me, if you had asked me to go to a cricket match a few years ago i would have laughed in your face but Ive come to realize that i will watch any sport as long as i know the rules of the game. Competitive sport, the winning and the losing have always have always held a keen interest of mine, whether its the hermit crab racing in Fiji or the curling at the winter Olympics, and when an auld kiwi explained the rules to cricket to me in a bar in my first night in Auckland i was instantly hooked. I went to a few matches in Australia and with the success of the Irish team in the last world cup the hook has only cut deeper into my sole. Now the Lancashire V's Surrey was a lot different to the matches i witnessed in Australia. Firstly the game at the oval was in danger of being called off due to a wet pitch, something i had never encountered while in Australia. There was no full house of spectators in the stadium and unfortunately no drunken Aussies getting kicked out as the match progressed. There was however one thing that was better here and that was to witness my first batting century, 102 not out by Mark Rampracash as Surrey ended the first days play with 273 for 3 wickets. I totally enjoyed the game even if the atmosphere wasn't the carnival atmosphere i had experienced in Australia. Ive no idea who won the eventually won the match as there was another 4 days to go but Surrey were definitely in the driving seat when i left. That night i paid a visit to another work college of mine, Anna whom i had trained with in London, and who and put on a cracking spread of fajitas while i got the chance to rabbit on about my trip for a few hours. It was great food and great company, and i headed back to the hostel in beaming form. I had Paul Simon on the mp3 player going back on the tube and i couldn't help but sing aloud with a massive smile on my face, people must have thought that i was just out of a loony bin.
Thursday began with a short bus ride to Brighton, booked on mega-bus.com for £4 each way. My visit to Brighton was to see another two people on my list of people to catch up with while i was in UK, Tommy and Lisa. Tommy and Lisa were friends of mine for my years spent in Galway. We were a good gang back then and Tommy and Lisa were of good stock. I hadn't seen them for a number of years, in-fact since they had moved to Edinburgh. Since then they got married and were now living in Brighton where Tommy has gone to college to study music. Tommy is another guy who has quit his career in order to chase a dream, a dream of playing music. I totally respect his ambition and by all accounts he is going to succeed and i will one day be asked if i have the right credentials to speak to him back stage at one of his bands gigs. Even though i hadn't seen them for a number of years it was great to find that the years that passed hadn't changed them one bit. The bus journey began well but it soon became clear that the bus driver was a bit of a lunatic and judging by the speed he was driving must have been under some pretty severe time constraints. At one point we were booting down the motorway at a savage speed when the driver quickly realized that he needed to make a left turn, not wanting to slow down any he just turned into the bend with the bus mounting the kerb and its passengers being tossed around like lettuce in a salad. I was sitting behind the driver so that i could easily ask him which of the three Brighton stops i was looking for but you know when your listening to your ipod you tend to say things a little louder than you think. Well my response to the kerb mounting went something like this "fucking hell, holly shit balls this guy is a nutjob" needless to say he was not impressed and reminded me that he had told us to have our seat belts fastened when we were departing the station. I'm pretty sure that we were wearing seat belts to survive any potential accident, a safety net if you will, not because this guy was going to drive like some bat out of hell and not give a damn if there was road to drive on or not. I was really glad to arrive in Brighton in one piece i can tell you. Brighton is regarded as one of Britain's hippest cities and on first impressions you get the feeling that anything goes. It has a vibrant cultural scene with a youthful edge, it reminded me of Galway in many ways. Plenty of art for arts sake types but along with it being the gay capital of the south, the dog grooming and clothes shops are a bit of a give away, its a city that's relaxed and comfortable in its non-conformity. Its people are free to revel in their individuality and i found that quite refreshing. After a stroll around the cobbled streets we settled in for a nights drinking around the many bars of the city. The next day it was a thankfully uneventful bus ride back to London to visit another friend of mine from my years in Galway, Cha and his girlfriend Sara. It was great to see all these people again and over an Indian we were able to catch up on all the news of the last few months then it was down to the important things, Tiger Woods golf for the playstation 2.
Saturday 19Th April: The south Downs
I arrived late to my uncles house that morning due to some train delays and a tube guard giving me a lecture on how i had bought the wrong price ticket and should have paid another pound more. My dumb expression only seemed to fuel his anger but finally after a few minutes he let me on my way with a stern warning not to do it again. My uncle, Brian, was taking me to one of his favorite trekking spots in the south downs in the south east of England. I was delighted with the invite, a chance to do some trekking and also the chance to spend some time with Brian doing what we both love. He has a true adventurous spirit and has sumitted Mt Blanc, and was also within a day of reaching the top of the Iger before bad weather and an injured team member forced them to turn back, not before having to spend the night on a small ledge while getting battered by strong winds and freezing temperatures. I have a huge admiration and respect for what he has achieved and i would say in no small way is he to thank for the spirit of adventure i have within me.
It was a dry day when we boarded the train in London but by the time we reached Seafood, a small seaside town, the weather was starting to deteriorate somewhat. Not to be put off in any way we began with a trek up the cliffs to our accommodation for the next two nights, a barn in the middle of a field. Now when i say barn i mean barn but it was kitted out with lockers and heating lamps and benches where you could roll out your sleeping bag. With toilets and cold water showers it was the best barn i have ever had the pleasure of staying in. In Ireland i think we could take a leaf of of the British book when it comes to walking holidays. If a trail is marked on a map then you are entitled to walk along it no matter who´s land it belongs too. I´m sure i don't have this totally correct so if I'm wrong i stand corrected but in Britain there is a law that gives the right to citizens to enjoy the countryside meaning that the have right of way along these trails. I believe that back in the 1920´s many people protested and even went to jail to protect this right of way. Even the might of Madonna couldn't stop people having the right to walk through her land. And if you want to camp you can pitch your tent anywhere along these trails as long as you respect the area and leave it exactly as you found it, and if you don't want to camp the parks commission maintain these trekking barns that you can reserve a spot in. There are so many people for whom 2 weeks in the sun lying on a beach is not the holiday they are looking for, they are active and love the outdoors and two weeks trekking in the countryside is ideal for them. In Ireland we should promote ourselves as a destination that can cater for these types of holiday makers. The weather is not important to these people its the scenery that they want to see and goodness knows in Ireland we have as good a scenery as any country Ive visited. OK ill get off my high horse now, but you get my drift. With our camping stove and provisions we were both in our element amidst all that peace and quiet, no traffic noise, car alarms, it was just the sound of the wind blowing through the trees and the calls of various forms of wildlife. That first night we headed by torch light for a few pints in a country pub close by and returned to the barn for one of the best nights sleep Ive had for years.
We awoke the next morning to find the barn a wash with a morning sun and after breakfast we headed off up the rolling green fields, through forest trails to whats known as "the longman". The south downs area was once populated by the Celts and the marks they have left behind are things i have only ever seen books. Why they left these markings we will never know but these chalk drawings etched into the hills cant help but make you wonder and marvel at their magnitude. After a spot of lunch we continued on our trail to Alviston, a small but quaint old English country village. I´m not 100% sure but i think Michael Pailin lives somewhere in the area and as we stopped for a refreshing pint i hopped we might bump into him so i could see what the great over-lander would make of my trip. After Alviston the trail continued along the river passing the 'white horse 'and back to the barn. It was a good days trekking and along the way Brian and i had managed to solve many of the worlds problems and therefore rewarded ourselves with a few pints before i crashed out as soon as my head hit the pillow. The next morning we walked back along the cliffs to Seaford and our train. The cliffs are called the "7 sisters" and are like the white cliffs of Dover except much more spectacular. In fact in many films the 7 sisters are used as the back drop for the white cliffs of Dover. With a light mist coming in from the sea they were in majestic form that morning. It had been a great few days and it was a little sad to be heading back to London but i was busing it up to Scotland that night so i needed to get a riggle on. My few days in London finished with a lovely dinner with Brian's friends Len and Marina and her two lovely children. A perfect end to the few days, Marina was even kind enough to give me a lift to the bus station. Another megabus journey for £17.
Tuesday 22Nd April: Ben Nevis and the West Highland Way
I don't exactly remember how i first heard about the west highland way but when i did i knew it was something i had to do. The part that probably drew my attention was the fact that it was 95miles long. The way is probably one of Scotland's most popular walks. It runs from a suburb of Glasgow called Milngavie (pronounced mil-gye) to the capital of the west highlands, Fort William. The route passes through some of Scotland's most beautiful landscapes, through mountain and by loch, over moorland and along forest paths. Along with an attempt at Ben Nevis they were two of the things i was looking forward to most in the early part of this trip.
I arrived into Glasgow at 8.30am having spent the bus in the company of some cider swilling blokes with no teeth. Great fun i must say especially when one of them lost a mobile phone and made everyone get up out of their seats so he could look for it, it didn't matter if they were asleep or not. I had planned on getting the train up-to Fort William, its regarded as one of the worlds most spectacular train journeys but just my luck they were doing some track renovations so the train wasn't going to whole way. In the end i just got the bus straight up with citylink for £13. Now you might be wondering, if the west highland way is from Milngavie to Fort William why was i going straight to Fort William. Well to climb Ben Nevis was the real reason i was in Scotland in the first place and i had heard that the weather had been good so i decided that i would do the climb first and then do the walk back to Milngavie. Unfortunately as i arrived in Fort William the weather was starting to change again and it looked like it would be pretty bad for the next few days. As a town Fort William is quite pretty, situated on the banks of Loch Linnhe, but in truth its only really a good base for exploring the local mountains. I stayed in the Fort William backpackers for 13pounds a night. After checking in i got some supplies for the next days attempt on Britain's highest mountain and bit of a reconnaissance on where i was starting the treks and returned for a good nights rest.
Next morning i arose early to get a good run at the day. My thinking was that if i got an early start then i would have the best chance of making the top as there was a lot of cloud cover expected late in the day. It was raining lightly as i started but as the morning wore on that began to fade. The recommended starting point for the ascent of Ben Nevis is the car-park at the Ionaid Nibheis visitor center. The trail first follows along the river Ben Nevis along lush vegetation before rising steeply giving way to a more rocky landscape. As i was crossing the Red Burn it became clear the the trail was going to zig-zag its way to the summit plateau, unfortunately with still quite a bit of snow cover this trail quickly became invisible meaning the going got very tough indeed. I hadn't seen many people on the trail up-to that point but as i was scrambling through the rocks and the snow i came across one walker, Ben from Texas. Ben was in his final semester studying to be a surgeon and he was completing that semester in Edinburgh. If i was to say that Ben was a little unprepared for this climb then i would be understating quite a bit. Kitted out in a pair of Adidas trainers, Levi jeans and a worn leather jacket Ben looked more like he was out for a Sunday stroll around town then climbing Britain's highest mountain. He had no compass, no food of any kind and it seemed the only thing he was carrying in his backpack was a small bottle of water. As i was looking at him i was thinking "what are you doing mate, your going to kill yourself". I have many American relations and they are all sound people but i tend to have this love hate relationship with the rest of American people. I love them when I'm in the states, its their country and I'm in it so they can behave whatever way they want, its usually quite funny but for some reason the Americans that you meet traveling the world drive me mental. In fairness to him Ben was a nice guy so when he asked if he could tag along with me for the last stretch to the top i didn't mind one bit. By now the weather had turned really bad, the temperature had dropped quite considerably and we were engulfed in cloud, so much so that even seeing 100yards ahead was difficult. I was in two minds what to do at this point, the enjoyable trek up-to now was quickly becoming more and more dangerous. I decided to sit and wait it out for awhile to see if the cloud would clear any. After 15Min's or so it was clear it wasn't going to clear anytime soon and sitting around only brought on the effects of the cold. With a determination to get to the top i took a compass reading and decided to keep going up. Nearing the summit plateau the snow was nearly waist deep and it was a real struggle to get footing taking one step forward and two steps back. After nearly 30Min's of hard slog we finally reached the plateau but the cloud cover was worse now, to the point that it was a complete white-out in the snow. There is a sharp drop down the right side of the summit plateau and i was very conscious of just walking straight off the edge or falling through the snow and plummeting to my death. It was a tough decision but one i had to make so i decided that this was as far as i was going to go. We had taken a few risks to get to where we were and to continue would have be crazy. I explained the situation to Ben and i think he could sense in me the risk was too great on this particular day to go any further. He agreed and we stopped for some photographs. Ben had been carrying this rather large backpack with him and when he had told me that he didn't have any equipment with him i had wondered what it might contain. At that moment i need not have wondered anymore because to my total surprise he pulled out a giant hot-dog costume and put it on for the photograph. Apparently him and his mates take this thing everywhere they go and try to take photographs of themselves standing in some strange places. I was gob-smacked, i mean you couldn't make this stuff up. I wanted to give him a clip around the ear and tell him to cop himself on. So photographs taken, and one final tantalizing look around for the highest point of the summit, we were less than 100meters from that point, we began our decent. On the way down Ben got stuck in a snow drift and i had to dig him out. My hands were aching from the cold at this point and i was getting the feeling that Ben was more trouble than he was worth. I stopped for some food, fed Ben and decided that i was going to let him fend for himself from this point on so i could enjoy the scenery on the climb down alone. To speed up our separation i made a Bear Gryllis style decent to the rocky trail below, sat on my ass sliding at some speed down the snow. The last stretch down the mountain gave me ample time to take in the stunning scenery all around. To coin a phrase from someone i used to work with "it had real wow factor". The weather was starting to improve by this time and i was toying with the idea to make another attempt at the summit but the weather conditions on the top of this mountain can change so quickly and can be so severe at any time of the year that i thought better of it in the end, better to live and fight another day. Its the first mountain that has ever defeated my challenge but that only makes me respect it even more. I will most definitely be back to try again. That night over a beer and the Barcelona V's United match i was able to reflect on the day. I was finally able to laugh at Ben and the hot-dog because at the time i had no sense of humor at all, at £8000 to get rescued from the mountain i think that's enough to wipe the smile of anybodies face.
Most recommendations for doing both Ben Nevis and the West Highland Way were for 8-9 days with 7-8 days needed for the completion of the way. I wasn't sure how long it would take me. I didn't want to have to race along and not be able to take in any of the sights along the way, but i hadn't booked any onward travel arrangements so i suppose it didn't really matter how long it took. The first day i had a 15miles to cover from Fort William to a town called Kinlochleven. It was raining lightly when i set off but within an hour or so it started to get heavier and heavier. The way begins along the motorway for the first mile or so before it ascends sharply along Glen Nevis before entering some woods. I took one last look at Ben Nevis in its majestic beauty and set out along the forest trails for the next 5miles. I met many other walkers that day and indeed everyday along the walk but they were always going in the opposite direction, i was yet to discover the full extent of why. After the forest path the trail winds its way through Lairigmor, with mountains on either side its a beautiful trail. In good weather the Lairigmor can be a pleasant walk but unfortunately for me in the wind and the rain the westerly glen offers little shelter. The trail is an old military road built by Major Caulfield around 1750 to enable this armies to march and crush the Jacobite rebellions of the time. The terrain is really rough, lots of rock and stone that makes the going quite tough and with the weather the way it was i was starting to long for Kinlochleven. You were never able to put your foot firmly on the ground, the rocks and stones were putting a huge strain on my ankles. I remember thinking at one point that the English built pretty crap roads back then and maybe they should have got the Irish in to do it for them. That though was quickly followed by another, they probably did get the Irish in to do it for them and i had visions of an O'Reilly type from that episode of faulty towers and Basil being the major;
Major: O'Reilly is that road going to be finished anytime soon, Ive got to get up there and crush them Jacobite's you know.
O'Reilly: well major she is nearly finished now, you cant rush good quality work. Ive had the lads up there working day and night to get her finished. Oh she will be a grand sight when she is finished i can tell you. Guaranteed for 800years she will be.
Mark: 800years my arse!!
Oh the things i think about when I'm out walking.
It was with great relief that i climbed over the last hill at the end of Lairigmore to reveal the little village of Kinlochleven down below. That night i checked into a great hostel called the blackwater hostel. It owned by a lovely guy called Callum, he actually built the hostel himself and for £13 its one of the best hostels Ive ever stayed in. He had built a big drying room on the premises where you could leave all your wet clothes and bags to be dried by the next morning. He was a great guy and we had some good chats about my trip to Australia and about the West Highland way. There was none of this leave your boots at the door with Callum, it was a come on it, don't take the boots off you might never get them back on attitude. It was from these chats with him that i realized that why doing the way from north to south was seldom attempted. All the big climbs were on my side and i would always have the weather blowing directly into my face hence meeting everybody going the other way. In-fact it had been awhile since Callum had seen anybody doing it north to south. When he asked me what made me think of doing it that way my only response was that its because I'm Irish and we like do things the other way around. He seemed to get a good kick out of that one and even though they were busy he shuffled people around so that i could have a room to myself. That night was spent in the company of other walkers doing the trail, swapping tips and offering advise on what to expect over the next few days. There is a real camaraderie between the trekkers, you get the feeling that we are all in this together. Telling people your doing an overland to Australia always makes me the centerer of attention and usually i can spot someone who has over heard me talking about it, they hover around doing nothing in particular and when they get their chance they step in with "did i hear you right, your traveling overland to Australia". Luckily its a conversation i don't mind having one bit.
The next day started much the same as the last, the rain spitting in the morning but within an hour or two it starts to bucket down. I was able to gauge from the conversations the night before that this was going to be the toughest day for me and it started straight from the off. The climb out of Kinlochleven passing the pipelines that bring water down from the blackwater reservoir was very steep and the local road workers looking aghast at the direction i was going only showed that there was worse to come. The trail continues to rise up through the "devils staircase", not named because its an easy path i can assure you, leaving you very exposed to everything the weather throws at you. Its the highest point above sea level that you reach along the way, but from south to north its mostly a decent meaning that i had to climb all the way. Due to the fact that two of the next few stops, Kingshouse and Inveroran were only hotels that charged up-to £60 per night for a room i had planned on doing a rather large walking day of 21miles to the Bridge of Orchy. After the mornings climb i was feeling quite strong but i was very aware that i had a lot of ground to cover to get to my stop before nightfall. Approaching Kingshouse the weather even started to improve but no sooner had i taken off my jackets and walked 100meters it started to rain again. My shouts skyward to mother nature only resulted in a downpour that didn't let up till i got to my destination. From Kingshouse to Inveroran the trail leads through Rannoch Moore, the most exposed section of the walk. A solid 8miles of battering wind and driving rain, i could feel the blisters starting to show on the inside heel of my feet making every step along that Moore more pain-full than the last. The Moore is quite beautiful in its ruggedness but the appreciation was washed away by the rain and wind. I finally arrived to the Bridge of Orchy at 7.00pm or just after, completely soaked to the skin. I was checking into the bunkhouse in at the hotel in the village and was greeted by an elderly woman who ran the reception. I shouted from the door that i was a bit wet but she beckoned me over without even looking, big mistake. By the time i had signed the register the reception floor was awash with rain water, and in good wicked Scottish humor the lounge boy put a wet floor sign around me. There was nothing left for me to do that night than to dry my clothes and head straight to bed.
I set off after a poor nights sleep, i think i was too over tired to sleep. Happily though the weather had improved dramatically and the terrain was kind to my feet meaning that this was a days walking i totally enjoyed. It was a relatively short walk to a town called Crainlarich, 14miles or there abouts. The trail followed along the rail tracks so in the end is was no disappointment to have missed out on the train to Fort William, i got to see first hand the beauty of the highlands rather than just looking out the window. About halfway i stopped in a town called Tyndrum at Berine's shop where i had the best bacon and egg sandwich with cheese i have ever tasted, i think id do the walk over again just to have another one. After Tyndrum the trail meanders along river banks, through fields full of newly born lambs and finally through forest. It was really beautiful and along the way i encountered plenty of wild deer. I also encountered lots of joggers running by. When i stopped to chat to a woman she was able to tell me that it was a race from Milngavie to Tyndrum and that the leader and winner had already finished. She also told me that the winner once ran the whole West Highland way to Fort William in 15hours, i was nearly bowled over with this statement, i think ill stick to the walking i said before i continued onwards. The hostel in Crainlarich was a YHA and was quite nice, again £13 a night. While i was waiting to check in i got talking to a guy who was fixing up a racing bike. His wife had died from cancer in October and he was in training to do a charity cycle from one end of Britain to the other. He was also telling me that he had walked the West Highland way a few years ago to raise money for the same hospice as his wife's mother had also died of cancer. He was a remarkable man and I'm disgusted that i cant remember his name. I was so touched by his attitude and it really put many things into perspective for me. I have been in this bubble for the last few months with only this trip in my mind, it really brought a few things home to me and i wish him every success in his noble crusade.
For what ever reason i didn't sleep all that well last night either and this was starting to take its tole on my body. I was happy in the knowledge that the worst of the trek was now behind me....or so i thought. Leaving Crainlarich the weather was immaculate and by lunch time was upon 22degrees. After the days of rain and wind i was glad of the change but with the sun came other problems. The trail out of Crainlarich was an old cattle trail so the going was really tough, trying to pick your way through the mud. At one point the trail was blocked by the biggest hairiest bulls Ive ever seen. Id spent many a childhood summer working down on my granddad's neighbors farm so i was confident i could solve this problem with minimal fuss. I had always seen myself as a bit of a Dr Doolittle type back then so a began to make conversation with the bulls, suck, suck suck....to my horror that only brought them on mass closer to me. There must have been at least 20 altogether. I tried not to panic and racked my brain from the only other call that i knew, then finally it came to me, hup, hup, hup and amazingly just like moses and the red sea my sea of bulls parted so i could walk freely down the trail. At the end i took a bow to some imaginary applause and continued in great spirits onwards. After 10 or so miles of the 21 i had planned to do i mounted a small hill and was greeted with probably the most spectacular sight i had seen along the way. The view of Loch Lomond on that day is one that will stay with me for the rest of my life. I struggle with trying to find the words to best describe it, beautiful, amazing, spectacular just doesn't cut it. I guess it needs to be seen to be believed. I'm sure all of you have heard about the pleasure pain theory, its that for every good thing there is on the flip side a rather bad thing to balance it out, well if the sight of Loch Lomond was a pleasurable experience lying in wait along her banks was the painful experience. The path cut its way along through big boulders and tree roots for the next 4miles. In the heat of the afternoon sun this terrain made for one of the worst experiences of my trekking life. It took hours to cover the short distance and by the end i had completely lost my marbles. I had to stop for almost an hour in Inversnaid plying myself with cokes and fizzy orange trying to recover the will to carry on the next 7miles to Rowardennan. How i did it ill never know. Ive always known i had good stamina if not raw fitness, but my stamina was tested to the limit this day. I can honestly say i was starting to lose the plot when i received a text from a friend telling me that Munster were winning the rugby, Celtic had beaten Rangers and Chelsea had beaten United. I don't think anybody will ever fully realize the lift that that text gave me and at such an important time. I gritted my teeth, powered through the pain and ploughed my way forward, i was doing it for Munster and for Ireland!! At one point i was so exhausted that i just dropped my backpack in the middle of the trail and stuck my head into a little waterfall to try and get some respite from the sun. It would have looked a strange sight I'm sure if anybody had come along at that moment, all they would have seen was a lone backpack in the middle of the road and two legs sticking vertically out of a hole in the ground. The feeling was amazing though, so intense, i felt energized to go forward again. After another few miles i was nearing the hostel and i gave into an urge that was nagging at me the whole day, i jumped down onto the river bank and dived into Loch Lomand. It was bloody freezing and i came up gasping for breath with the shock of the cold, i was out of the water within 2Min's but i can tell you it was with a clear mind. I was lucky enough to get a hostel bed that night, one of the last two beds so i went to sleep thinking that my luck might be starting to change. I got chatting to a few young lads in the room that night and was telling them about my trip, i don't think they were too sure what overland meant because they nearly jumped off their beds saying "your walking to Australia". I nodded my head and pointed to my trekking poles but I'm afraid i could hold the pretense much longer than a few seconds before the laughter took over.
Going to bed the night before i had decided that today was going to be my last day on the walk. I was starting to feel mentally tired and wanted to get it finished with, that meant however that i was attempting to do nearly 26miles to Milngavie, an amount that i hadn't previously attempted to do. I set off really early and in the knowledge from one of the other walkers that it was a flat walk and nothing too strenuous. Indeed it followed along those lines through the town of Balmaha but when i turned the corner and was faced with an almost vertical climb up Conic Hill i was screaming the mans name in frustration. In his defense he was walking the other-way so it would have been down hill for him but i wasn't so reasonable in my thoughts at the time i can tell you. I cursed and shouted my way to the top only to find that after a short downhill it was all back up hill again. It took awhile but i made it through and until the end in Milngavie it was the last bit of hard walking i had to do. The rest followed along road, an old railway track, passed Dumgoyne and the Glengoyne distillery, through forest to eventually reach the park on the outskirts of Milngavie. By the time i reached the park i was in bad shape mentally, i was singing a mixture of Shakira (hips don't lie) and Damien Dempsey (party on) to try and get my mind onto something other than the 3 miles left to go. I met this family out for a walk and the first thing they said to me was "you didn't happen to see a brown shoe anywhere did you", i hadn't planned to stop and chat when i saw them approach because i was afraid if i stopped i would collapse but i was so taken by surprise by the question that i had to double check that they were definitely asking me that. I held in the urge to yell "no i haven't see a bloody brown shoe, what the hell would i be doing looking for a brown shoe", but i remembered my manners and bit my tongue responding in the nicest possible way that "no i didn't see a brown shoe, sorry". As i approached Milngavie the signposts were counting down the last mile and a half. I had wanted to cross the line looking strong, like i do this kind of walking every day but my stride was a mixture of speed walker in an Olympics race and cross country skier with the trekking poles, a sorry sight I'm sure. For the last half mile i could hear bagpipes playing in the distance, at first i thought i was imagining it but as i drew nearer to the obelisk that marked then end of the trail they got louder and louder. Now I'm not a fan of the bagpipes but that day they sounded like the angels calling from heaven. I reached the marker threw my arms around it and gave it an almighty kiss....what a strong mans man everybody must have thought!!
The next morning i spent around Glasgow while waiting for my bus. I had been in Glasgow once before and had actually slept in the bus station as i couldn't get anywhere to stay. I had been curled up in the photograph booth with my bags wrapped around my legs and the curtain drawn protecting me from the lunatics outside. Its a great city if your with a group of friends out on the town but when your strolling around taking in the sights i find it a depressing city. I'm really sorry, i don't mean to offend anybody from Glasgow, its just the opinion of one guy. I don't know whether it was the sight of track-suite clad youths drinking beer on street corners at 10am, or if it was the horrendous thunder and lightning storm that hung over the city for what seemed like an age, or if it was even the flock of gulls that eerily flew over the bus station looking like something out of Alfred Hitchcock's film the birds, maybe it was a mixture of them all i don't know, but i took them as a sign to get the hell out of the city.
The next two days were spent back in London getting my strength back for the travel through Europe. It was good to be able to chat to Brian about the walk as it had seemed a bit surreal since i had finished it. We had a few beers a walk in Battersea park and dinner with Len, Marina and the kids, a perfect end to the U.K leg. The only hitch was checking the accommodation availability in Amsterdam for the following night, nothing until i found the "hans brecker hostel".
Saturday 3rd May: Amsterdam
I arrived into Amsterdam later than expected due to the cancellation of the ferry, some technical difficulties, but there was a later ferry i was able to get and other than that the journey was uneventful. I slept most of the way on the bus so i think my body is starting to adjust to the long bus trips. I don't know where i got my ideas from but i had thought that the journey would start with a bus to Harwick and then a ferry to the hook of Holland and then another bus to Amsterdam but in fact the bus left Victoria coach station for Dover and the ferry ride was then to Calais with the bus then passing through Belgium and onto Holland. Somewhat longer than i had thought. With the accommodation escape i had made the day before and now this I'm starting to feel that i should start planning things a bit more. My take each day as it comes philosophy way start to get me into trouble further down the road. I'm making a vow to wake-up a bit and start to consider a few things. I have been in Amsterdam many times before and feel like i know it like the back of my hand, unfortunately it seems i don't know the back of my hand too well. The tram from the bus station to the hostel "hans bricker" left me totally disorientated so i spent the best part of the next hour trying to find the hostel. It was a fantastic day, a type i had not witnessed on my previous visits to Amsterdam, so i guess i couldn't complain too much but by mid afternoon my patience was starting to wear thin as i walked down the same street for the 5th time. Its amazing how the difference in weather can totally transform a city. My other visits to Amsterdam have been in October/ November when its been dull and drab and generally raining. This time however the sun was out in force and the city was sparkling in the suns glow. Even the canals looked postcard picture perfect with the slow moving barges passing up and down, their ripples creating a glistening reflection of the over hanging trees. The cafe's had lines and lines of chairs outside full to the brim with people enjoying the early signs of summer and Dam square was packed with people milling around buskers and street performers. While sitting out soaking up the atmosphere i came to the thought that if you were to take away the cannabis coffeshops and the red-light district that Amsterdam is famous for you are still left with a city that is both picturesque and full of history and has enough to fill the senses of any visitor. I had many plans before arriving on things that i wanted to see and do. This time around i was going to do all the tourist things that i hadn't managed to do on my previous visits to Amsterdam, like the Anne Frank museum and the Van Gough museum but I'm ashamed to say that over the next few days i did nothing of the sort. I reverted to type so that after i had checked-into the hostel and showered i was off to the greenhouse to sit in a purple haze and chat to a long white widow. Actually the next 3 days pretty much followed the same pattern, get up around 10am and have breakfast (some croissants), pay a visit to the greenhouse or some other coffeshop, spend the afternoon sitting in the sun in Dam square to write this blogg before getting bored and making a return to the coffeshops again....its such a hard life!! I must say that i do feel a little guilty that i didn't take in more of the sights but what can i say. One task i did manage to achieve was to book my bus onwards to Scandinavia. I had been mulling over the idea of going to Copenhagen and then Stockholm before arriving in Goteborg but with time starting to close in on me i decided i would bus the 21hours straight to Goteborg. Amsterdam and Denmark will always be there and are so easy to access from Ireland that i can do them anytime. I feel its best that i keep the time for destinations I'm not likely to ever see again. Also Denmark and even Amsterdam were not on my original itinerary leaving Ireland so it might sound like a cop-out but i found it easy to drop them. I have a friend to meet up with in Goteborg so I'm going to head straight there. I didn't book any accommodation so it seems my new leaf to start planning ahead is only half turned over, but i don't forsee any difficulties. My bus didn't leave Amsterdam till 23.00pm so i had the day to loiter around the city. However the night previous i had gone to sleep with the window open due to the heat and as i woke up it quickly became apparent that i had been eaten alive by mosquitoes. I don't know what it is about my blood but they love it. I had bites all over my arms, legs, neck and ears. As i was climbing down from the bunk-beds i could tell that my right eye didn't feel so good and on checking my reflection in the mirror i was horrified to see i looked like i had gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson. I'm not joking you it looked terrible. I'm not sure if i got a bite around the eye or if it was some kind of allergic reaction to so many bites. Either way I'm sure to most people walking around Amsterdam that day i looked like i had caught some terrible disease. Thankfully my sunglasses were able to hide my shame. To make matters worse while sitting enjoying the sunshine in Dam square i was approached by these born again Christian religious types. Maybe they saw my eye, maybe something else drew them to me but whatever it was i couldn't shake them for 15min, we had a little pray for my trip, my family, a pray to God that he would bring me a nice woman to settle down and have a family with. Man, i just don't have the rude bone in my body to get rid of these people, it was so uncomfortable. After they had gone i quickly ran through the red-light district to a coffeshop to dirty up my sole after my near salvation.
