When I got into this walking lark I was really worried about it. Going back to my first hike, when I walked from St Bees to Robin Hood’s Bay, I thought that people would judge me as I turned up at the beach. They’d be thinking, ‘oh, there goes another one of those coast to coast walkers – what does he think he’s doing?’. I was imagining that they’d be judging what I was wearing, the equipment I was using, why I was doing what I was doing. Would they be questioning the time of year I was attempting to do it, the route I was taking, or just simply seeing me as an inconvenience, cluttering up their beach front. Maybe seeing me as just a sheep that was copying the latest walking trend, following the crowd, not doing something original.

Those thoughts put me off. They made me question why I was attempting this. In a total contradiction to being concerned I was just following the crowd, doing the same as everyone else, I wondered why everyone wasn’t doing what I was doing, what was the catch, what major pitfalls was I missing. Because this seemed like a great adventure, and I wondered why it wasn’t on everyone’s todo list.

These same feelings go along with most things I have done. I feel embarrassed to be doing the things I do. Sometimes that embarrassment, or fear of what others might think, and how I’ll look if I fail, have stopped me doing things that I want to do. I have definitely, in my past, not applied for jobs for fear of failure or out of my depth. Not joined bands because I wasn’t good enough at playing guitar. Not asked a girl out because I wasn’t good enough and scared of looking stupid. Not gone into a cafe as I was worried they’d stopped serving. Or even, on a very basic level, not contacting my friends to organise going out for a drink, because if they say no, I’ll look needy, or rejected, or something that I can’t describe but feels unpleasant. Really, the list could go on for many many pages. To be honest, I’m actually surprised I’ve achieved as much as I have with all these nagging doubts.

Apparently I’ve always been a bit like this. According to my parents, when learning to walk, I used to hide away where no-one could see me and practice. So even then I didn’t want to be seen to be trying something that I couldn’t do. The more I think about it the more it applies. When wild camping, ideally, no one can see what I’m doing. If flying my drone, I prefer there to be no-one around. If recording a video, better that no one can see me. It’s not just trying not to look stupid though. If I fell over in front of someone, that wouldn’t bother me. But if I tried to get a table in a restaurant, and got turned down – well that thought fills me with dread. Easier just to avoid.

Now, I’m still a bit like that. But these hikes have really changed me. When I originally planned the coast walk, everything was booked up front, and I knew exactly what I’d be doing every day, I knew where I’d be staying. I’d always prefer to booked campsites online. Anywhere that I needed to just arrive at, turning up on spec, was definitely avoided. I didn’t like the unknowns. Now though, I’ll start a hike with no idea where I’ll be staying. I’ll use campsites, if convenient, as I come across them, but rarely book anything except for on the day. Ben, 3 years ago, would not have done this. I’m still not perfect, I know there are campsites I’ve thought looked good but I’ve walked past due to these underlying fears, but there are also some I’ve just walked in to, totally on spec, no booking, just on the off chance I can stay. The Cashel campsite the other day is a prime example. I nearly walked past, as surely it wasn’t open and I’d look daft, but found some courage and went in, and that turned out great.

So walking has made me much braver. Still probably not as brave as people are naturally, but brave for me. And it’s made a change to everything. I know that me, pre hiking, would not have left Rolls Royce. Even though it made total sense in my head. However, because no one else was doing it, despite saying they wanted to, it was obviously a bad idea. I think, before, I would have just stayed there. I wouldn’t have trusted my instincts and instead gone with the safe option. I’d just wait till retirement, like ‘you’re meant to’. All these ideas I had, like learning to drive a lorry, or becoming freelance, doing more hikes, were just stupid dreams and, because no one else was doing them, clearly not workable, and definitely not sensible.

But I did it. I decided to take this new, less well travelled, route. And although scary, and having to spend lots of time in my own head justifying the decisions, much more fulfilling. Time has slowed down. I used to work in the week, have a few beers at the weekend, then work again. Time flew by. It’d be Christmas again before I’d had time to get over the last one. Now, months take ages to go by, years feel well utilised and packed with fulfilment and not wasted. Life feels more worthwhile. I think back on all those years, where I was scared to do things I desired but nervous of the consequences, or, and this is the big one, what other people would think. I was just sticking with what was safe, things that would cause me the least harm, would not make me stand out in the crowd, just quietly conforming.

I don’t normally steal other people’s work, but there is a song that I really love and, unusually for me, one where I listen to the lyrics. I think it highlights what I’m trying to say. I think lots of people lock themselves away from the world. Be that because they’re scared of it, or because they’re afraid to do something different. I’ll quote a bit of it here. I think it both literally applied and also metaphorically.

I don’t know where we’re going

I don’t know what we’ll do

Laying in bed tonight I was thinking

And listening to all the dogs

And the sirens and all the shots

How careful man tries

To dodge the bullets

While a happy man takes a walk

And maybe it’s time to live

—— Mark O. Everett

Lots of miles to cover

I should have started the day early. But even as I went to sleep the night before I knew that I was going to have a relatively late start. I had 23 miles left to cover, which is exactly the same distance I’d done on the first day, albeit in reverse, the first time I walked the West Highland Way. The difference that time was that the days were a lot longer. Last time I was able to walk well into the evening and still have daylight, so really there was no pressure.

I clearly wasn’t that worried though as if I had been I’d have got moving earlier. It was very cold, and even though I woke up before the sunrise, I just didn’t fancy getting out of bed until I had some daylight. I think my theory being that it’d be a tiny bit warmer. Also, as I was on a campsite, I spent more time faffing around, going back and forth to the toilet blocks to get water, wash, fiddle with contact lenses. Efficient was definitely not a word that could apply to my morning.

I was happy though. Despite how cold the night was, I had slept well, and been very happy with my decision to use a campsite. My feet had been nice and warm thanks to the hot water bottles and I was in a really good place. I wasn’t really worried about the last few miles being in the dark. So I continued to take my time. I can’t remember the exact time I was finally ready to leave but I do remember the weather was perfect and I was happy. I was looking forward to finishing now and felt very lucky that my last day was going to be in good conditions.

Before I left the campsite I found one of the campsite managers to return the hot water bottles, thanking them as much as I could mange whilst handing them over. I couldn’t come up with enough words to describe how grateful I was.

Decision vindicated

It was much further to Balmaha than I’d remembered. I was very glad that I’d not attempted this the day before. I think the walking would have been bearable, although I was very tired the day before, Loch Lomond is tough, but it would have got very cold and dark and I was glad, as I got near Conic Hill, that I wasn’t now trying to set up camp. Yes, I had given myself more miles to do today, but I think that was the lessor of two evils. I’m sure I would have been fine but it wouldn’t have been pleasant.

As the weather was perfect I decided I was going to risk going over Conic Hill. My only concern was ice, because temperatures had been well below zero for quite a few days. But the skies were clear, and visibility was good, so, despite this being my third time, I decided to make the climb.

I’m very glad I did. Yes, it was a little bit of effort, but the alternative was walking on roads (I think) and I would have missed out on the views over Loch Lomond and the snow covered mountains filling the view as far as I could see. I had no desire to go to the summit, as this is not on the route, which surprises me really, but summits don’t seem to interest me, so was quite glad when the path eventually levelled out and I started to descend on the other side of the hill.

Almost immediately I encountered a lot of ice. Some sections of the path were totally covered and there was no alternative but to leave the path to get around. This did slow me down but I was just grateful that the ice was clearly visible so there was no danger of accidentily treading on some and slipping. I don’t like falling on ice – it feels horrible. And getting up with a backpack on your back is never an easy affair.

It probably took about half an hour to get past the worst of the ice, which had slowed me down, but I had my head torch in my pocket, with a spare battery, so I wasn’t worried that I would lose daylight. It really was inevitable, unless I suddenly found an unexpected burst of speed, so I just carried plodding on. I was determined to enjoy my final day.

Just to prove my point, about not being worried, when I bumped into a lady at the bottom of the hill I decided there was plenty of time for a long chat about hiking and our experiences. When I told her about my trip and how I was worried about the smell of my shoes, she suggested I could put them in the bin.

Well done

Just before I got into the woods after Conic Hill I met a local man who was out for a walk. He said ‘well done’. Which I really appreciated. I often don’t tell people the extent of my walk, but the fact he was congratulating me on finishing the West Highland Way, meant quite a lot to me. I liked that people were noting that I was doing it backwards. It felt nice to be doing something very slightly different, even if only a little bit different.

I did meet a few hikers, maybe 4, on this final day, so walking it in November wasn’t quite the novelty I had thought. I wasn’t jealous though that they had it all ahead of them, and I was nearly finished. No, I was glad I wasn’t them. I’m not sure what that says about my resolve. I decided not to think too much about it.

One of the hikers was on his second day, which did worry me, because it was around lunchtime, I had 15 miles still to go, and was planning on finishing that day. It did stir a little anxiety in me, but the numbers didn’t lie, I could walk at 3 miles an hour, so should be able to walk it in 5 hours. Yes, it’d all be ok. Head torch still ready for action if required.

The Truman Show

I find it funny that sometimes you meet people at certain points in your life and the timing feels a little too perfect. It does sometimes seem that they’ve been planted at certain points, just to give guidance, or reassurance. Like the day before, I’m sure that campsite should have been shut, but it just fell so exactly, right place, right time, it felt planned.

Well, I was about 9 miles from the finish line. I was pondering my next life step. I thought, probably, I should look for a job, even if just part time. Now I’ve got my HGV licence it seemed that having a go at that industry seemed a logical step. I was walking along and someone called out from behind me. It was just a man walking his dogs, he was calling to the dogs, not me. We ended up walking together for a couple of miles and chatted about all sorts. Somehow, it came up that he was an HGV driver, but his background was quite diverse, he’d had many jobs since leaving university. He was very similar to me although younger. So I got the opportunity to ask him about HGV work. He really enjoyed the job and, of all his jobs, was one of his favourites.

After we went our separate ways, it just got me thinking. What an opportune conversation. Exactly what I needed at that exact moment in my life. What were the chances of it happening at that exact moment, in that place. The paths are quiet – I haven’t seen that many people. It all seemed a bit too perfect. I’m not complaining though so please let these coincidences carry on.

You must be mistaken

The last few miles were difficult. I was really struggling. As the sun started to set it was getting cold and I was very tired. My legs and feet hadn’t felt this tired for the whole trip. I was thankful that I was nearly finished. There was a lot of ice on the path so I was having to tread carefully but I was keen to make progress. I ploughed on.

My mind was taken off some of the aches and pains by a beautiful sunset as I neared Milngavie. The weather really had played its part in a wonderful last day.

It did start to get cold and I had to stop just as I got into the final woodland before the finish line to put on my gloves. I took this opportunity to set up my head torch as well. I could just about see but I was missing bits of ice on the ground so decided it prudent. It seemed daft to fall over now and hurt myself. On I went.

I was so happy to finally get to the finish line. Slightly paranoid that, as I appeared at the sign, people would be looking at the finish line, saying ‘look, another one of the West Highland Way sheep’. I tried not to worry about that and did a quick video. I was so happy to finish. So glad I’d soon be able to put down my rucksack for a while. Looking forward to getting into the warm.

One of the best things about these walks is the feeling when finishing. The elation is worth all the hardship. I was on an incredible high. I wasn’t even so bothered about not completing all of the Outer Hebridean Way. I was happy I’d done my best. I felt slightly proud of myself.

I walked to my hotel and checked in. The lady at reception asked me if I was walking the West Highland Way. I didn’t tell her about the Great Glen Way or the Hebridean Way, but did proudly tell her that I’d actually just finished it. She said, ‘you lot are mad walking it in November, I’ve just had another man check in who’s just finished it’. What!! I thought I was unique. And now I had heard about someone who’d just done what I did. Maybe, and I suppose not confirmed, he’d just done it backwards as well.

I chuckled at how short lived my feeling of superiority for doing it backwards, and in freezing conditions, had lasted.