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PrefaceIn the past weeks, I tried to make most of the confinement we have here in France, during which we are allowed to leave the house only for a handful of reasons such as work, going to the doctor's, shopping. For physical exercise, we are allowed one hour per day away from your house/apartment, in a maximum radius of one kilometre, on foot (no bikes, no going anywhere nicer by car first). So there's much time spent in the house, which I used to do some translating, and here's the result.
This was the first walk report I have ever written, back in 2003 after having completed the West Highland Way as a student with David, a friend of mine who lived in Cambridge at the time for an abroad semester at the University of Cambridge.
This is the English translation of my original text, followed by a few notes about my observations during my second WHW, 11 years later with my wife.
People’s names have been changed where I deemed it necessary for the sake of privacy.
The original text is full of puns and wordplay which are hard to translate into English or even to transcribe if you’re, like me, not an English native speaker. So, if anything strikes you as weird, it is just my failed attempt to translate sentences that are already bizarre in the original into a foreign language... When translating, I noticed that in the original text, being young and foolish, I used quite some idioms in contexts where they do not fit. Also, that I have no clue about tenses. In none of the languages I speak.
As you will notice, I did not have much of a clue about walking long distances at the time either, and neither about Scotland. It was however already my second visit to Scotland, having made a round trip by rental car the year before with another friend, after having been entitled to a quite
expensive free flight to Edinburgh, but that's another story...
My 2003 photos were all taken on a 1975 Asahi Pentax KX SLR, on slide film. David's were taken on normal film with I don't know what kind of camera. The 2014 photos were taken on a Pentax K-5 II digital camera.
Finally, a word of warning up front – the text is quite long, rather a long short story or a very short novel instead of just a report. I hope you enjoy reading it anyway. 😉
Prologue – Arrival, Sunday September 28th, 2003Needless to say that just in time for departure, the weather changes, rain clouds are moving in. Even though Scotland is quite a distance away, the satellite weather image does not really nurture my hope for sunshine in the highlands. Into the bargain, Hahn airport no longer has free parking, as I realize much too late to have time to organize arrival by bus. After one and a half hour of eventless driving, I have no choice but to park the car, unguarded, behind a barrier that won’t open again after my return unless I pay three Euro per day parked. It starts raining.
In the airport, the usual procedures and the usual questions via the PA system for a passenger with destination Oslo, who checked in a black suitcase and is kindly asked to report to airport security. After check-in and a warm croissant, I move to the waiting area and scan my fellow passengers for hiking boots and a possible “hello again” on the West Highland Way. Negative. I wonder if there is even one other person flying to Scotland for hiking in this weather.
The gentleman with the black suitcase and destination Oslo is being called for the fourth time already.
No, certainly neither the blonde with noticeably too much make-up, looking as if she would dismiss any activity involving physical exercise right away, nor the young lady with the disproportionally big mouth, nor the Indian extended family, nor the group of loud English speakers will be going hiking. Most of the backpacks were queuing up for Oslo anyway, there are almost only suitcases on their way to Glasgow.
Again the airport announcement:
“Ladies and gentlemen, may we ask you for your attention for a brief moment.”
Certainly this is again about the missing gentleman.
“We are looking for a passenger who will either fly to Oslo, Glasgow-Prestwick or Bologna and who checked in a black suitcase.”
Interesting, they don’t even know where he’s going… Just as I’m about to focus again on the other passengers, the announcement continues:
“In the suitcase, there are among other things a beige jacket and a birthday card addressed to a certain Carsten. Please immediately report to Security next to the counters.”
I wonder what they would mention of my backpack’s contents. The tiny and super-light sleeping bag? The original Aldi outdoor clothing in mouse grey and dirty blue? Or rather the 750g rye bread for David?
Shortly afterwards, the flight to Scotland is ready for boarding. We walk directly onto the apron and are given directions by a lady:“Please board the second aircraft on the left-hand side.” The flight is rather dull, nothing to be seen through the dense blanket of clouds. In preparation, I read a little in my Lonely Planet “Walking in Scotland” before the aircraft touches down in Glasgow Prestwick. My backpack soon arrives on the belt, no black suitcase to be seen.
The train to Glasgow Central for half the fare is twice as full as it should be to feel comfortable. The tickets are sold by a jovial conductor with unmistakably Scottish accent. In the door compartment where I am standing, various suitcases, backpacks and five people are piled up, one person is crouching on the floor, dozing and not letting himself get disturbed by the masses of people squeezing past him at every stop. A few stops before Glasgow, two teenage girls get in who should have had a better look in the mirror before dressing in belly tops. Or maybe the typical British adolescent woman has a distorting mirror at home – in the next days I should see the proudly displayed flab flowing over the belt many times more… Anyway, the two provide entertainment for the door compartment by singing silly nursery rhymes. However, after the third song, the performance is abruptly interrupted by the cry “Conductor!” and a hasty flight towards the rear end of the train. A few stops later, the train has arrived at Glasgow Central, and the masses pour out of the train.
- 2003: Glasgow Central
- 2014: Glasgow Central, photo by Mrs. Zatapathique
Glasgow Central had already impressed me the year before as a sightseeing tourist, and it gains even more in fascination when you arrive there as a traveller. Nevertheless, I do not stay long and use the city walk described in the Lonely Planet as guide to the hostel, which is about a mile from the train station. It looks as if it would rain soon, a few drops have already started falling. After half an hour, I arrive at the hostel, and my shoulders ache from the weight of the backpack. And with this thing I really want to walk more than 150 km on narrow paths through the highlands? Here in Glasgow, at least the ground is reasonably level… I put away the thoughts about the 15 kg in the backpack and go back to the train station right after checking in. In the meantime, it’s bucketing down and not really warm, even though just a few minutes earlier the bearded host wanted to convince me of the contrary by opening wide the window in “my” dorm. The watertight Aldi jacket defies the elements water and wind and brings me back to the station relatively dry, where David soon arrives by train from Cambridge - he had to start there earlier to get to Glasgow than me who started a 1.5 hour drive from the airport in Germany... We reach the hostel dry-shod and live yet another proof that the world is a village. In our dorm “lives” Marco, a German having just started his studies in Glasgow. He is from Koblenz and has studied in Mainz until now. When David says that he’s from Geltow, a small place near Potsdam, Marco just says “Oh, right next to Werder!” Of course, both have a common acquaintance – a friend of Marco’s girlfriend (from Werder) studies in Mainz and went to the same school as David…
We spend the rest of the evening shopping for the hike (which means walking again the mile to the city centre) and cooking our dinner in the presence of a gentleman from Munich with the urge to talk to somebody. There is no real international atmosphere – apart from the Korean girl declaring us crazy for wanting to walk so far and a Japanese girl also starting her studies in Glasgow, the rest of the guests are Germans… After a short look at the hiking map, we go to sleep to have enough strength for the first stage.