Walking Versus Hiking
I slept surprisingly well in the little shepherd's wagon last night. Birds woke me at about 4:30 in the morning. I used the Merlin app to identify some of the sounds. Shortly thereafter the sheep started bleating, and I could hear cows from a nearby field. It was a pleasant cacophony.
Since I was awake, I needed to dress and get over to the house to use the facilities. It was not convenient but it wasn't nearly as bad as anticipated. Back in my little, hut I laid back and enjoyed the sounds all around me.
At that moment, I had a revelation: I'm not a hiker, I'm a walker. All the miles I put in on the Camino trails, as challenging as they were, were nothing like this adventure. The Camino did have difficult sections, without question. But except for time spent in the Pyrenees, in the snow, you were never far from help, water, food, or a taxi if blisters or the sun became too much for you.
Out here on the Wainwright, you're scaling rocks and fording streams miles away from the nearest town at any given time. There is no cell phone service, so calling for help is a challenge in itself. Information gets passed down the line, and I’m told of injuries on a daily basis: twisted ankles, broken ribs, even a torn rotator cuff. While climbing or descending on slick surfaces, you realize that one bad foot placement can result in injury.
There are day hikers here, but it's not like a picnic lunch on a lawn. They go up to the highest and most challenging peaks. In some cases they run up and down to the most challenging peaks. Maybe it's the challenge that keeps drawing me to these things. If I'm going to be a serious hiker I need to upgrade my equipment and learn some additional skills.
I have discovered that hikers don't hurry. Taking time out to adjust equipment, grab a snack, or check the route are all essential. Hikers also look out for each other. The common greetings are "How are you doing?" and "Are you okay?"
I was very fortunate today to walk along with three Australians. Duncan, his daughter Sally, and their friend Bill were emergency room doctors in Australia and very skilled hikers. Bill made a very valid point that when you're walking, you do nothing else. Any distraction could spell an injury. Bill also got a big kick out of seeing me pull my gaiters out of my backpack in their original packaging. A real hiker would have examined and fit their equipment well before they got halfway up a mountain.
While we paused for a break, Amelia caught up from behind and joined our group for the remainder of the day. She had the biggest pack among us and was still suffering from foot blisters. Watching her fight back the pain and continue to walk with all the extra weight was a display of pure grit.
Around every bend there was a panorama. Tarns or lakes or ponds were everywhere. The thing that was a little unusual was that these beautiful spots out in the country were pristine, with no homes anywhere. Even at my age some of the scenery left me with a sense of wonder. It was beautiful and totally worth the effort.
While the climb was challenging due to incline, terrain, and weather, the way down was even trickier, being very steep and studded with loose rocks and mud. Without the trekking poles I do not believe it would be manageable.
The last 8 miles were relatively easy in comparison. There were some walks up and down rocky areas around the lake, but nothing treacherous. Later things flattened out and we started crossing fields. The terrain shifted again and now we had some rolling hills. A brief amount of time was spent in a wooded area filled with fragrant bluebell flowers.. I was also introduced to the gorse, a very pretty, yellow flowering plant. It's the last plant you want to bump into, because it's filled with thorns, and the flower emits a sticky substance that attracts bees. I remarked to Duncan that it would make an excellent security hedge. Finally, we knew we were getting close to our destination when we came upon Shap Abbey.
Another hiker named Richard had joined us earlier, but he was at the back of our pack and spoke mostly with Bill. It wasn't until the last couple of miles that I got to meet Richard, who works with a German company that engineers food products. I'm going to have to see him again somewhere on the trail to fully comprehend what he does. It turns out at the completion of this walk we are probably riding the same train to London.
As I said, I'm pretty new to this hiking thing, and some of the physical demands just about took me to my limits. But like Amelia, I refuse to quit. Overcoming challenges makes the view even more delicious.
The first person I encountered when I entered the village of Shap was a little boy with a small black puppy. Before saying hello, he told me "Shap always smells like this,” … and indeed, the air was ripe with the smell of dung. Luckily, my hotel was upwind.
Arriving there, I entered through the only door and walked into the pub, where Kiki and her husband Stan were sitting comfortably at a table . They had arrived hours earlier and I couldn't imagine how they got there before me. I was quickly informed that they had taken a ferry across the lake — the same lake I had circumnavigated over iffy terrain — cutting about four hours off the day's journey. I wonder, if I had known about the ferry, would I have walked anyway?
