The wanderlust is on me

I’ve known for weeks that on the Saturday the 16th I’ll fly to Madrid and the next morning set off to walk the Madrid route North to Sahagún. But still the excitement is mounting.

I’ve walked thousands of miles in several countries. But still the excitement is mounting.

Recently I’ve been working in the Pilgrims’Office in Santiago for a few weeks. Living and working in the medieval city and dealing with pilgrims every day was hugely rewarding and great fun. But I still miss walking.

Then over the last couple of days the tune of a Scottish song has been rattling around my head as if it has been recorded on a loop. Over and over. The truth is that I don’t like Scottish music. It is in the same category as tartan dolls and shortbread. And whilst I am fond of haggis I certainly wouldn’t talk about it in public. As for the bagpipes, I have long believed that the definition of a musician is someone who can play the bagpipes but decides not to. Worst of all is listening to a bunch of Scots expats anywhere in the world talking about their “but and ben” and offering to buy each other a “wee doch and doris”. Errrrr, excuse me, NO ONE in Scotland speaks like that.

But here I am being driven insane by the tune and words of the song:

Oh' the wanderlust is on me

And tonight I strike the trail

And the morning sun will find me

In the lovely Lomond Vale

Then I’ll hike it through Glen Falloch

Where the mountain breezes blow

And we'll drum up in the evening

In the valley of Glencoe

Then swing along to a hiking song

On the highway winding west

Tramping highland glens and bracken bens

To greet the Isles we love the best

I have two excuses for this behaviour. Firstly I have walked in all of these places in Scotland and they are incredibly beautiful. (Loch Lomond above)

Secondly somewhere in my head the definition of the word “wanderlust” as a “very strong, irresistible urge to travel” is the most accurate description of how I feel. Especially when walking through a remote area like Glencoe (below).

I have also been looking out clothes and messing around with kitchen scales again. (I realise this post has a somewhat confessonial tone to it) So while I’m at it I might as well also admit to considerable joy in Marks and Spencers the other day to find underpants which are not only 2 ounces lighter in weight than my usual underpants but they also take approximately 2 hours less to dry when washed.

By Saturday I intend to have a rucksack which when packed weighs no more than about 6kgs. Maybe less.

When I walked from Seville to Santiago in 2006 I was returning to walking after a gap of many years. My previous experience had been packing an old rucksack with my gear: a heavy winter sleeping bag, cotton underwear, tshirts and woolen jumpers, cutlery from the kitchen and a towel from the bathroom. A billy-can and tin mug tied to the outside completed the array. Weight didn’t seem to matter on short day walk through Glen Falloch. (below)

I learned that it does matter on long distance walks. When I prepared to walk the 1000 kms of the Via de la Plata I listened to all of the wise voices – “keep your weight down”, “don’t carry any more than 7kgs”, “remember in addition to what’s in your pack, you’ll carry food and water”.
I listened to them. I understood the point. I made a genuine effort to minimise the stuff I took. It just didn’t work out like that.

I used a basic packing list – rucksack, sleeping bag, three pairs of socks, three sets of underpants, base layer, middle layer, rain shell. Boots and sandals. Travel towel and toiletries etc. So how did I end up with 13kgs?

I now know it was those “extras” which I thought at the time were essential. With this memory I start to blush:

I was walking in winter, it might be freezing, so I took a thermos flask and a box of dried soup.
I was walking alone on a isolated route, so I took a shortwave radio to listen to the BBC world service.
I might not be able to speak enough Spanish, so I took a comprehensive phrase book and dictionary.
I might have great thoughts as I walked so I took a notebook to write a journal
The little torch I had with me might fail so I took a second torch.
The batteries for the radio and the torch might run out so I took spare sets of batteries.
I worried that some unknown tragedy might happen to one of my three pairs of socks, so I took four pairs.

Enough. You get the picture.

I discovered:
I needed to buy sunscreen instead of carrying a thermos flask.
I wasn’t interested in listening to the radio, I was either too tired or enjoying the walking.
That if I wrote on one piece of paper the key phrases I needed to find a bed, get directions and order food I could ditch the dictionary.
That I had great sleeps instead of great thoughts.
That one torch was enough and, lo and behold, in Spain they have shops! I could buy spare batteries if I needed them.
I have still have the socks. No one stole them. I never lost them. They have not self destructed despite being put under considerable duress from time to time.

It took me some time to realise these things. And considerable pain.

Although I had done considerable walking in preparation for the first journey there is a big difference between walking around Clapham Common in full kit a few times or even doing day walks along the canals and walking an average of 27 kms all day every day for 30 or so days.
The extra weight I carried turned from reassuring friend to blister causing enemy. As I had listened to the advice I clearly thought I was the exception to the rule. I could carry extra weight and not get blisters and pain. I wasn’t and I did.

Since then I’ve also realised that it isn’t necessarily what you take but the weight of what you take. I’ve built up a small collection of “technical” clothes and a rain suit– they are the ones that are reasonably cool when it is hot and warm when it is cold. I invested in a decent lightweight sleeping bag and a silk liner which is sufficient for summer walking. But I also paid next to nothing in 99p Stores for thin nylon tops which are great for walking in summer and which virtually dry when you shake them after washing. I’m very proud of my new underpants and I have ditched every single extraneous item. Small truly is more comfortable.
For those who read this and know me. One more thing. I only cut the toothbrush in half to fit it in the bag. Honest!

And after writing about all of this I am going to have to go and check the gear. Again. Oh nooooooo …its starting,

Oh' the wanderlust is on me

And tonight I strike the trail

And the morning sun will find me

In the lovely Lomond Vale

Then I’ll hike it through Glen Falloch

Where the mountain breezes blow

And we'll drum up in the evening

In the valley of Glencoe

Then swing along to a hiking song

On the highway winding west

Tramping highland glens and bracken bens

To greet the Isles we love the best

Islay, Jura, Scarba, Lunga

And the islands o' the sea,

Luing, Mull, Colonsay, Staffa,

Coll, Iona and Tiree,

Sgurr of Eigg and Rhum and Canna

And the Minch waves rolling high

And the heather tinted Cuillins

Of the lovely Isle of Skye

Chorus

Then I'll bivouac and I'll slumber

Till the dawn gives place to day

And I’ll wander by the river

That inspired old Ossian's Lay

Then I’ll do some mountaineering

On the Bidean's snowy crest

Just to view the Hills o' Derry

And the islands o' the West

Chorus

When the wanderlust has left me

And I grow too old to roam

Still the memory will linger

Of my lovely highland home,

Silvery streams and mumbling rivers,

Verdant vales and glorious glens

And the pride of Caledonia,

Heather hills and bracken bens.

Chorus