I almost forgot my childhood.

The truth is, I almost forgot I had a blog.


Its been a year since I am back in Singapore. I love this place so much. It means so much to me. Its where my bestest friends are, my favourite foods are from. The culture, the language, everything about it sets a pace that my heart beats to. I like it here.

Britain can never be a substitute. Don't get me wrong, I love Britain. I have awesome friends there, I know the country (geologically) well, and I love everything British, Bill Bailey, Eddie Izzard, Buzzcocks, the Queen, and of course, the Highlands, and caves. But Britain, will never, never, be home. It'll be like a prolonged holiday.

So much has happened in the past year. I was offered a good job, I took it. I now work in some government ministry, doing something completely unrelated to my first-love. I can't say that I completely enjoy myself, but a job is a job.

Now? what wages? I was doing some readings (geologically inclined readings) and realised how out of touch I am with the subject. I want to get back into Geology, but won't be able to do so with the kind of knowledge I have. Surely the skills are transferable, and hopefully the knowledge should come to me like riding a bicycle, but I still fret. I am a fretter, I fret needlessly.

I fret, I worry. I am scared for my future. I press double space after every fullstop. An occupation hazzard no doubt.

God put me in my current job/position for a reason, and I completely trust him. However, that still doesn't take the pang of doubt that wriggles in my gut. The doubt planted by the nonexistent joy on my face on mondays, and the overwhelming joy on my face on fridays. The doubt planted by the inadequacies I face everyday.

I am a scientist. Or rather, I was. What am I doing to myself?

I fear. I fret, and I worry. Can you blame me?

Because it was not my will.

The will of God will never lead you to where the grace of God cannot sustain you.

West Highland way in 5 days.

The idea was borne out of sheer admiration for the highlands while I was on tour with my mother. The proposition was made through a text message, which followed an enthusiastic reply a couple of hours later.

The aim was simple, in theory. We had to cover 95 miles (132 km) in 5 days, we would camp in the wild, and on the odd day, stay in a wild bothy if lucky. There would be no facilities, no toilets, nothing. We will have to carry 5 days worth of food and snacks, and there is no giving up. Sounds easy enough when said.

After a couple of days of hasty planning and tent purchasing, we set off to our impending doom.

Driving up on Friday night to camp out in Milngavie was the right thing to do, it meant that we had a full day 1, and also we were well rested, instead of being flabbergasted from a reasonably boring 4 hour drive from Manchester.

Day 1: Milngavie to Balmaha (20 miles, 30km)

The Beginning.

Starting off at Milngavie seemed easy enough, the weather was pleasant, and the route was very flat by our standards! We easily blitzed through the first 12 miles or so, overtaking lazy tourists who hired a company to carry their rucksacks!! assholes. We were true hikers, carrying all our load with us, and living in the simplest possible way. There were hardly anyone who was doing it "like us" and it became a mission to befriend and root out those who were wild camping.

Closer to Drymen, the "normal" stop for "normal" people, we found that we were alone, apart from a triple of rather inadequate walkers who were ridiculously slow, and we never saw any of them for the rest of the trip, again. The reason why there wasn't anyone anymore was because no one was going to Balmaha, it was just us, crazy nutters, doing it in 5 days. Fucking mad.

The climb at the end of Balmaha up conic hill proved to be the killer. After climbing very many tall hills and mountains in Britain, that 185 metres seemed like HELL after about 16 miles of walking with full load. I swear, even Scafell and Pike via Eskdale seemed like a piece of piss afterwards.

View from Conic Hill

After a lot of moaning, we arrived at the bottom of Conic hill, and despite being overall short by 1 mile, we decided to camp as we had decidedly found a spot near water (a tap in a carpark), and it was relatively midge free as well.

Day 2: Balamaha to Inverarnan (21 miles)

We knew from the guide book that this was going to be a killer day. It was meant to be the hardest and most tiring day due to the convulations and undulations in the path. It was meant to be fucking true. To the ounce. The highest climb was 80m. I have never done anything harder in my life. That was my mantra throughout the 2nd day. There were serious doubts if we could even complete the walk, and at moments, the atmosphere was tense.

Loch Lomond

Despite saying that we were doing this for enjoyment, it became clear to the both of us that not meeting our goals were affecting our morale and moods very much. It was almost pointless and painful to do this walk. There was almost no saving grace other than the exceptional beauty of Loch Lomond. The only thing that kept me going was the friendship we had, and the beauty of the Loch. Of course, there was also the mini competition with the Frenchies, whom we outlasted (vive la angleterre!)

Towards the end of Day 2, it began to pour it down, and the route was becoming ridiculously hard, there were large boulders and tree roots to get over, and this took up alot of time and energy, at the end of the day we found that we were only doing 0.5 miles per half hour, and that was absymmal compared to our aim of 2.5 to 3 miles an hour! We were still 2 miles of short, excluding the 1 mile we failed to meet yesterday, in total, we were 3 miles short.

Duone Byrne

So we decided instead to stay the night at Duone Byrne Bothy, a common property hut with rudimentary sleeping facilities that was free for use for all walkers. The rest was good, and the company we met there, 2 glaswegian mates, were hilarious, and the Islay whisky did our bones some good.

As such, we arose on Day 3 feeling refreshed and once again, rearing to go.

Day 3: Inverarnan to Bridge of Orch (19 miles, ended up doing 22)
So, we set off at 0830, and walked very extremely briskly towards Inverarnan to catch up with the 3 miles lost over 2 days. We did it in an hour, used the Inverarnan campsite facilities to top up our waters, had a butty breakkfast, and went off towards Crianlarich.

View above Crianlarich

There were THOUSANDS of people at the campsite who were going on WHW. It was silly, there were so many people, and we actually have not seen any of them on the way before!! After poking around and asking a few questions here and there, we find that people weren't at all honest hikers per se. haha... i'm sucha fucking snob. But yes, they were doing WHW over 7 or 8 days, and were thus only doing 10 to 12 mile days, which was almost half of what we do, as such, we stop at different places, and thus we don't see them at all! Worse, they hire a company to carry their packs for them, so they only travel with day sacks, which is about 1/15th of the weight that we are carrying! Some even only started halfway! cheats!

No one else, was going to the Bridge of Orchy.

The day started with a lovely valley/woodland terrain toward Tyndrum, and the midges started becoming a nuisance everytime we stopped, as such, we always looked for a spot without midges before having a break.

View along the way to Bridge of Orchy

On our last 6 miles towards Bridge of Orchy, we were very sure that we would be able to do this, we would be able to meet our aim, and have a good nights rest! We agreed that at BOO, we would go to a campsite WITH facilities as a treat, and that would be a good morale booster. However, along the way, Frost discovered that there was NO campsite with facilities at BOO.

The views were stunning, this was at last, the proper highland scenery that we are so accustomed to through the media, photos, and previous experiences. Walking through the glen along the A road, and the highland railway was a stunning and spiritual experience.

However, in the last 1.5 miles, pain kicked in, 3 days straight of 20 ish mile walking had taken a toll on our feets. My feet and toes were swollen, and there was an unbearable pain originating from my ankles. It was agony. We knew that it was a combination of heavy packs and horrible roads that did this to us, but we knew had to do this, and complete what we set out to do.

Now, it wasn't just a sightseeing walking tour, but a mission, something to prove to myself. I could do it, I will do it, and I wanted to do it. It was like as if it was our own special way to worship and pay homage to the beautiful scenery that surrounded us. Every wood, hillock, mountain, corbett, munro, glen, corrie there was along the way. It was like mass for the walker. We will finish what we set off to complete.

Arriving at BOO was wonderful. We were anxious to set camp and go to rest, however, the midge situation at BOO was terrific. The midges were so thick it was literally difficult to breathe or to blink without one catching in our eye/mouth! After 20 mins of dallying with our tents, we decided to give up and pay £15 for a bunkhouse.

It was heaven. Never had a better night in my life, and never felt more comfortable.

Day 4: Bridge of Orchy to Kingshouse (14 miles)
Everyone on the WHW does this stretch this way. It wasn't going to be any different for us because we knew that it was dangerous to camp near Altna Feadh, at the opening of the Highland's 3 greatest glens. If the weather turned, we would be so screwed we would literally, DIE. So to be on the safe side, camp with everyone else by the Kinghouse inn!

Rannoch Moor. Boring killer.

The walk was a killer. 3 days of 20 miles each really took a toll on our feet and our souls. Everyone walked past us, the 90 year old german walker, the nice english couple who kept telling us to cheer up. They were all tourists, who hired pack carriers and stayed in BnBs, but hell, I wasn't about to listen to a bunch of people who had enough money to pay for BEDs!

Grub

Completing the walk was amazing, and we spent the evening in the pub, where we met a couple of kids who were on their first hiking trip (incidently, also their first multi-day). They hadn't a clue what they were doing, printed out instructions off the internet, and one was wearing plimsols! After a couple of hours of silly stories from them, we were tired of it all, and went to bed for an early start for our final day!

Day 5: Kingshouse to FORT WILLIAM (22 miles, but we have to camp at the only campsite at 20miles).

This is it, the final push. We were going to go through one of the most dramatic sceneries of the Scottish Highlands, Glen Coe and Lairrigmor. There was no screwing this one up.

We were relatively fresh, and managed to blitz through the first 9 miles easily, reaching Kinlochleven at 1pm ish, stopping for a 1 hour lunch break at the local coop.

Kingshouse

Starting again after lunch proved to be very difficult. A full tummy, and a big big big hill up past Kinlochleven was not at all morale boosting. To make matters worse, it started to chuck it down. Poo.

Anyway.. those bits weren't too bad because we actually remembered them. These were the areas that we spent 4 to 5 days studying for our 2nd Year Scotland field trip, and it was by all measure, a welcome familiarity.

Passing through the Old Military Road, we ended in Lairigmor, that big painful pass that took forever to walk, horrendously exposed to the elements, and not at all easy. It took us a good 6 hours to cut through the pass, and we were very unfortunately overtaken by a couple of lady non-breeders.

Despite the odds, the bad feet, the blisters and the painful swollen ankles, we had to get to the Glen Nevis campsite that night. We desperately wanted a shower, and of course, food.

The sky was getting ridiculously dark, and it was it even darker in the forest that surrounde us in the final mile, that was all that essential to burst out of in the light.

Finally, we made it, we emerged through the forest, and there it was, the bloody campsite, a mere 600 yds aay and there it was Ben Nevis, large, like a table, a big flat top rock, like a jarhead marine, framed by pink flowers. We were only 1.5 miles away from completion

Ben Nevis

Arriving at the campsite, we were greeted by the friendly staff, and of course, curious campers, and the concerned.. who were wondering where did we come from, and why were limping so badly.

The very next morning, we headed along the metal road as suggested by the campsite lady and hit jackpot less than 45 minutes later at the obelisk that marked the end of the walk. The elation, wasn't really there, it was overshadowed by the previous night's burst out of the eternal forest, and nice warm shower, but it was nevertheless a proud moment that marked a new age, and also, the end of the fatigue.


Lastly, I wouldn't suggest to anyone who wants to do the WHW to do it in 5 days. It depends on what you want to acheive. We did it in 5 days because Frost could not take that many days off work, and I needed to get on a flight to Istanbul on Friday. It turned out to be a massive challenge, so much more than what I had expected, and it was very very difficult.

The suggestion is, if you just want to enjoy the walk, and have a great touristy time, do it in 6 or 7 days, if you want to challenge yourself, and make it an amazing trip, work your calves and feet, and do it in 5. The pleasure of a challenge is always a big turn on.

Photos are all mine, quality is crap because i've got to smallerise it.

The clocks start ticking.

In exactly 27 hours, the travel bug will kick alive. I'll be on my way back to manchester, in prep for my exciting big hike, and almost immediatly after that, on a plane to Istanbul, and 3 days after that, Singapore. Its going to be a very long 12 days of walking, travelling and flying. But its going to be ace.

This makes up for the uncertainty for the future, and the difficult road ahead.

I am in a dilemna. I just got another rejection from a job, with the British Antartic Survey. It was a crap job that I didn't really want, and plus, i'd have to relocate to cambridgeshire. which is boring, cave-less and flat. But I thought I should just apply for it anyway.

There are other things on the plate that are so much more tasty and interesting, like the Research job in MMU, and the PhD in Leicester, but I know that they are long shots, miracles in themselves, even though they are on the top of the list of jobs that I really want. I know I shouldn't feel sorry for myself that I didn't get the BAS job, because I have even better things to hope for and look forward to, the job was right at the bottom of the list!! but I still can't help feeling a little pooped out from having 1 too many rejection letters from utterly shit jobs that I think i'm overqualified for.

Like what someone from the geology department said to me; it'll come eventually, and you wouldn't know it when it does, but it'll come soon enough, and it'll all be alright.

There are places that speak,
telling the stories of us and them
a village asleep loaded with dream
an oceann flicking its pages over the sand.
Eventually we reply,
a conversation of place and page over time,
inscribing the map so that each in turn,
might hold the line.

- - - - - -

The finals loom, not loom, they flood. They surround me, like creatures of dark mills, and cast shadows over my head. They are, indeed, dark days.

I was once told that having a degree meant that I had the world at my feet. I always believed it to be true. On the contrary, it seems as though, I now am at the feet of the world.

I scarcely believe it to be true that I have to now choose my life to what and where there are jobs. I cannot say, I wish to stay, because that wouldn't happen, and they would say nay.

Where will I be?

it almost feels as if i've lived a false dream.

: (

On having boundless amounts of energy.

The original plan today was to go to the library in the morning, and work on my dissertation. It would be quiet, and i would be free to run naked in the John Rylands Library because everyone else won't be nerdy enough to come in on a Saturday morning. I am desperate for that 1st class. Yes.

Then, I woke up at half 7. And felt utterly FILLED with physical energy. I had to do something. I couldn't sit to read. Mr Dickens was entertaining my mind but not my body! I HAD to do something. So I started cleaning. the house. again. and cooking.

I thought, why not go for a run! great idea.. But its fucking -2 outside and i'm a cold weather wuss. Fuck that. Lets go in the evening instead.

So now.. I'm sitting here.. without about a TONNE of work waiting for me. But I can't do a single shred of work because my body is absolutely going apesshit for the want of physical activity. Brill.

My drawer just collapsed. fucking shit table.

I need to get out there tmr. NEED is not an operative. It is a deep sunken desire so great it surpasses all other desires and temptations. I need the company of society.