This is it. The very last blog of our NC500 trip in Scotland.
As I explained in the last itinerary, the day’s plans changed and we spent quite a bit of the day in the car taking in the sights. I’ve since come to realise that we opted to avoid the crowded spaces as we weren’t quite used to them after a very quiet trip otherwise. It became very clear from our journey south from the Isle of Skye down to Glencoe that we were one of the many vehicles on the road and we both longed for the slower paced days from the first week of the trip.
I’m not sure what it is about crowds that has us both clamouring for some quiet, it may be covid and its many lockdowns, it may be how used to space we have gotten on our recent hiking trips to Northumberland. We could speculate for a very long time about the whys and hows. The fact remains after being so quiet, we weren’t prepared for the big crowds on the popular resorts we were travelling through on day 12.
That being said, arriving into Stirling to find the 3 Loch Forest Drive was as big a revelation as driving the NC500. The roads were smoother and much narrower but we didn’t see another soul for miles. Turning into the Forest Drive afforded us the much needed time to explore some beautiful woodland without feeling the rush of the roads we had experienced that very morning.
The route through the forest is very short and we saw several small signs along the way marking camping sites. Baffled about what this meant, we pulled over at an absolutely stunning picnic spot and praised the phone signal that was reaching us. A quick look online told us that you can camp in this area for a ludicrously small fee. Mr W and I got to talking about our already ‘in the works’ return trip to Scotland. There were so many sites to pick from when putting our plans together that we had to pick our very favourites. However it was always in the back of my mind that a return trip may be on the cards and therefore the research we didn’t use was kept intact for future use. And there we were on our last day of the NC500 talking about returning to this spot to try our hand at camping in Scotland.
I remember the time spent at that picnic area fondly, while Mr W flew the drone over the loch. I took the time to find order in the chaos of the car. I also changed for our meal later that evening. I smile now when I look back at the drone footage from that afternoon. There was no rush to head home or onto the next stop. It was comfortable. We had found our rhythm again. Amongst the trees and the calls of the birds we came to life.
Travel really is such a blessing that we often take for granted. In 2020 we were so unbelievably grateful for the chance to travel to Italy in between lockdowns. In 2021 we spent a lot of time in the UK hiking. The Scotland trip of 2022 was our longest and most intricately planned trip we had ever taken as a couple. It was when we started talking about future trips, including the return to Scotland, that I was reminded of how lucky we are. A place that can stop you in your tracks and remind you of how fortunate you are is really special.
There isn’t any one special place that does that for everyone collectively. So this highlight is about how it affected me and how I believe that when we travel we all find those places that draw out the best in us. This blog is a celebration of all those place we have found and loved and to the places we are yet to explore.
Hello 2023. I won’t pretend I’m shocked at how long it’s been since I’ve written. There’s been a lot going on, there always is and somehow writing has taken the biggest back step to everything else. It’s a shame because of how much I love it, how much there is to tell you and just how much it helps. However, forcing it also isn’t great.
So where do I begin. We’ve had SO many days out in London which have been amazing. Unfortunately, the saturation of the word amazing in social media these days is quite something but let’s take it back to basics. ‘Amazing.’ It is when something amazes you and I’m not talking about the perfect frothy detail on your cappuccino, no I’m talking about something that quite literally feels your mind with amazement. Whether it be on the day, that evening, the day after and/or when you look back at pictures taken. We obviously have the great pleasure in doing the latter frequently because we are big photo takers and we had 4, 5, 6 (can’t remember until I recap them) amazing days out which means there are plenty of photos to go through. Two of those days in particular would not have been possible without meeting our new friends from America, which I’ll go into more detail when I recap those days.
Mr W and I had a lovely Christmas, which after 2 years of covid disruptions (it took me a long time to think of polite word ‘disruption’), was really nice to just again get back to basics. Lots of family time, good food and just stopping. That actual stopping of work and plans and obligations, as such, and rushing around. It was really important for us to do that and we knew the benefits of stopping because we do it every year. Every Christmas Mr W will have off a big chunk of time and we halt the horses so to speak. However after the last couple of months it’s been just horrifically busy and we have been (I think) closest to burnout that we’ve ever been. It was both nice and necessary to just stop and we really did. There were days where we didn’t get dressed. We didn’t eat anything but Christmas leftovers. It was absolutely great.
Moving forward into this year things are going to look a bit different for us both. We’re already planning some big big renovation works in the house. Which is very exciting. It does mean that our travel budget is cut in half this year. Which seen as we are on year 2 of working on a travel budget it’s quite strange. It is all very new territory for us. I must say that Mr W and I do shine best when we have a project as a couple and I am so excited for our ideas to come together. Of course, it will be lovely to have our very own bathrooms rather than a shower that doesn’t work and a bathtub we have to vault to get clean. Back to travel; we’re maybe going to have a weekend away before starting the renovations and then a big travel trip at the end of the year. We’re going to do a lot more days than in 2022. I’ve actually taking it on myself to write a list of all the day trips we planned last year and never got to. This is done to other commitments and the fact there are only 52 weekends in a year. I mean, hardly fair is it!
Last March, we planned to do Dancing Ledge on the Jurassic Coast when we spent time in the New forest but we simply ran out of time. So 2023 will be the year we catch up doing things like that. It would be great to do these big days out and freshen our weekends up with adventures. We’ve got the wet suits, so who knows what we’ll get up to! There is a lot more we both want to see in London but we also just want to enjoy the silly things. This Saturday, rather than you know have a coffee in bed (something we love and certainly plan on doing a whole lot more of this year, adding our books into the mix) or drive to town and having a coffee, we’re going to drive into London for free parking and have one in St Katherine’s Dock. It is honestly just such a lovely place. Even though you’re in the middle of the city, you find this micro community hidden behind the tall buildings of Tower Hill. It feels like nobody really knows about it or if they do it’s like it’s our little secret. It’s like our own little club of people that’s waiting for the waking up of the city that surrounds it. And that is a simple moment between us, coffee and the city noises.
The big trip this year is looking like it’s going to be in September. Shocker right? I don’t want to tell you too much right now because although it’s not heavily reliant on budget it is slow in its emergence from ideas and trying to push ourselves to go new places and do brand new things. There seems to be a form of doing less in the way of tours and entrances and yet more in experiences that mean more to us. There will be some moving from country to country via train. To gain the most from this means a lot of research, as you can imagine we don’t just want to move from country to country and not be on the best route to see what the new country is all about!
When we went to Brussels in November (blog coming soon) we were there for roughly 30 hours.It was just so thrilling to be in a brand new country (for us, tick!). We didn’t feel rushed even though it was a very short amount of time. Those kinds of experiences wake you up a bit and it felt revitalising to have left the UK for the first time since late 2020.
We have had such a busy but beautiful and blessed life since our return from Scotland that there has been a vast array of things to write about. However, lately it’s been problematic to find the time to write. There is a lot going on and in all honestly when Mr W gets home I just want our time to be together. I don’t want to be typing or editing. I came to the conclusion on our return from Scotland that we really only have a very small window each weekday to be together. 3 or 4 hours away from the office in which we can live our married life and just enjoy ‘us’ without the interruption of other hobbies and choices. It won’t always be so easy. We aren’t simply a family of ‘two’, we have a large family that is important and it is my goal this year to see as many of them as possible and more often. It’s never a duty or a chore, it’s just a case of prioritising. So if I can write during the day. Perfect.
Speaking of nightly activities, when Mr W gets home we inherently have dinner and watch TV. Which is fine. When you consider that the nights have been darker, it’s been colder, the snow, oh god the snow (!) laziness is put into perspective weather-wise. But since New Year’s Eve (and this was very subconscious on both our parts) we kind of realised that we didn’t want to sit on the sofa every night, just watching something for sake watching it. This was called into conversation when Mr W asked me out on a date night last week! How cute. We went out to dinner, which we never really do, we’re always so budget conscious that we don’t go out. Most of the time, we cook, it’s rare that we get takeout, if we’re gonna have pizza we’ll dig one out of the freezer. Which is obviously everybody’s nightmare. You always want takeout pizza, they just taste better and that’s a fact. I digress! We went out for dinner. It was lovely. Really lovely. And last night, we went to the cinema. The fact that it cost a tenner is just awesome and I am pushing myself to think that £10 here and there will not blow our chances of travelling this year out of the water. Or… other obviously important things like paying bills and house renovations. Of course. Last night we had a very very cheap Costco dinner sitting at the plastic table and chairs, you know the ones, inside the store. And for a supremely awesome dessert, I smuggled in my pocket some leftover Christmas chocolates. It really was a really cheap night out. Something like £17/18. We’re planning on doing a lot more of these kinds of nights out and chop and change it up a bit.
2023. It’s here. It’s almost unexpected to be here. Not living, but that 2023 is here already, where did 2020/21/22 go? It is is time to get back into the writing and there are a few other projects I’m working on at the moment. All time consuming but worthwhile. Just need to find my rhythm again. I’ve been dictating this particular piece if you have noticed how much my writing changes when I do so. It just gives me a chance to get back into the swing of it before starting with a big piece with just typing. There’s so much to write about as well. I’ll need to write a little list of what I can share with you all. I’ll be heading back to the Scotland pieces soon, as I’m a hater of unfinished business and the itineraries could really help you, someone, plan that NC500 trip you’ve been longing to go on.
I really love the fact that I’m still getting followers despite my absence, hello to all of you, it may mean that this blog resonates with people which is really special actually. I didn’t think it would to be honest and in the beginning it was just some way of me talking through things. If you like what you’re reading and feel like sharing it please do send the link on to people you think may like it too. Thank you for sticking around if you’ve been here since the beginning and thank you to everyone who has ‘liked’ and shared the odd writing over the last couple of weeks. Until next time, be kind to yourself. I think that’s the most important thing we can learn from the past couple of years. Do what makes you happy. I’ll see you soon.
For the past six months I have been busy. Busy with travel. Busy with friends and family. And then, busy personally. In my head I have been coming to terms with living in a bigger body. This has made my mind busy.
I have always been big. I am an emotional eater. I eat when I’m happy. I eat when I’m sad. And I have PCOS which means regardless of what I eat and how much there is I will put on weight. it is also extremely difficult to lose weight. Way to mess with one’s mind eh?
Sugar.
Fibre.
Carbs.
It doesn’t matter.
Growing up in a bigger body meant I continually struggled with clothing and fitting (get it) in with the latest trends. But even then, I didn’t particularly like the trends of my childhood. The Schott jackets and short black skirts at school were just not my thing. I know now that if I had worn those items of clothing it would have been to fit in with everyone else and be worthy of those clothes because I fit in them. If I could have shrunk myself down maybe I would have felt normal. But then… If I didn’t want to wear the clothes others wore, would I have been their type of normal?
As my twenties turned into my thirties, I found that I drowned myself in big jumpers and jeans, which was a big step up from my dress and legging situation of a decade ago. Of course with the obligatory safety cardigan. That is until I started listening to a certain podcast, which I have mentioned before.
The aim of the podcast is to help everybody love themselves in the here and now without feeling the need to change something about themselves. Hence the name, ‘Go Love Yourself’. One early October Sunday morning saw Mr W and I wandering into our fast-becoming favourite haunt in Greenwich for breakfast and Mr W remarked on my strut into the dining area. I laughed nervously not knowing what he meant. Was I strutting? As we sat eating breakfast and sipping our caffeine hit, we talked about why I felt so comfortable. The fact of the matter was, I walked into a place I genuinely loved being, with the person who makes me walk tall and wearing my beloved black trench coat. Under said coat was a pair of khaki dungarees. It was a huge deal to be out in public in a pair of loose fitting trousers without a care in the world. Girls like me aren’t seen in dungarees. And yet there I was. The coat itself makes me feel good because it’s stylish without the price tag. I’ve had it for donkey’s years. It was then that the penny started to drop.
Therefore in October, with holes in many of my clothes including my trusty stretchy jeans, Mr W said enough was enough and unleashed me online to buy clothes I actually liked the look of. My aim has always been to fit into clothes and not once have I stopped and wondered whether I have liked anything that I wear. In fact I have on occasion bought the same ugly top in every single colour it comes in for the pure reason of it fitting my body. Ironically I never asked myself whether the selling point of these items was the fact I liked the way it looked. I’ve never asked myself that question. The exception being my wedding dress.
A big box of clothing turned up 4 weeks ago with various casual dresses, trousers and a rather cool hat. Mr W eagerly anticipated my transformation as I tried on each new item with disdain on my face. What on earth had I done?
This wasn’t me. Dark green waffle knit dresses. Carrot leg grey trousers. And the hat. Why the hat? I didn’t recognise this person.
Fast forward to the 31st October when I mustered up the attitude to wear an outfit from my new capsule wardrobe for a day in London. We had a fancy meal booked using a voucher from my birthday in March, an exhibition booked at the Tate Modern and a talk at Cadogan Hall by Levison Wood, tickets I had gotten for Mr W for his birthday. It was a far cry from our usual days out in our capital city.
I wore a burgundy dress with black tights, my new fedora hat, the trusty coat and some suede ankle boots. Team that with one of my favourite bags and I didn’t feel too bad. The hat was quite a statement piece in my eyes and I could feel the nerves of people looking at me creep in as we jumped on the underground into Liverpool Street.
Training my eyes to watch the pavement as I walk has been a lifelong trait of mine and it’s normally to watch out for my clumsy feet. Only occasionally is it to avoid peoples glances at me. I would always wonder what they were thinking when they looked at me. Why are their eyes gazing at my neck, is it the double chin? They’re looking at my stomach, it’s too big isn’t it? You can imagine the pains I rotate through my head.
And then, the second penny dropped. Regardless of what I wear, my chin and stomach will still be there. Why should I wear items of clothing that make me feel hidden away? When I can wear things that give me a bounce in my step because I actually like them.
Upon arrival at the restaurant, I was complimented on said hat. Smiling nervously I said thank you. Surely, he was just being nice. And yet several times throughout the day and days since I have received similar compliments. This is beyond strange to me.
That evening, we listened to Levison Wood talk to us and the other audience members about his travel ethos. I was totally entranced and equally as shocked when my right arm extended upwards to be picked during the question and answer portion of the night. Someone else was picked and my arm was withdrawn rapidly in embarrassment. What was I thinking? How could I talk out loud in front of 900 people? They would all look at me. It had taken me the hour since the announcement had been made that there would be a Q&A to formulate a question and gather the guts to lift my limb, let alone actually speak. And yet as the questioning continued. My fuck it attitude kicked in, I scolded myself for thinking my question wasn’t as worthy as anyone else’s and I raised my arm again. This time I was noticed. I asked my question, Levison spoke back to me and I grinned nerdily as we maintained eye contact.
I couldn’t believe it. That was me. The one speaking out loud. As the lights came up in the venue, Mr W smiled as he questioned what had gotten into me. It was highly unlikely for me to speak up in a room full of people I know let alone in an auditorium full of strangers. My only reasoning was that ‘fuck it’ had entered my mind and taken hold.
With my new clothes I felt I had taken on a persona of someone with confidence. It is only now I realised that wearing ‘the real me’ was the fashion that fit me best. It will inevitably take time to adjust to wearing new clothes on the body I do not like and choosing not to hide it away. I deserve to feel good no matter my size. That is what the podcast has taught me. I’m just slower on the uptake than others. Or maybe just too scared at times. We met new friends from America in London the other day and we got to talking about introverts and extroverts. They were shocked to find that I am an introverted extrovert. One of them couldn’t believe the fact that I am mostly a shy person because I was so talkative. And yet wearing clothes I love, including the hat and coat, made the extrovert appear for a fun day out. It made me realise that the clothes I wear may not be a true reflection of who I am on the inside, but they are helping me push through a little more each day.
I have never pretended that I have got it all together on this blog. Mental health, PCOS and travelling are the biggest things I’ve ever talked about with you. They’re all big factors in my life and sometimes one will take precedence over the other.
With my PCOS there are huge fertility implications and a lot of my mental health problems come with the condition. It’s often when I’m planning travel or travelling that these battles will get pushed aside and sometimes they’re forgotten. It means that I feel my best because I’m not trying to conquer the demons in my head or worrying about my future with or without a child. And even as I say that I am tearing up because that is where my mental health is at the moment. The battle everyday to stay positive on the fertility side of things in our life is enormous.
For the first time in a very long time I’m dictating this blog. So what I’ll do is speak into my phone as if I’m talking to a friend and then I will go back and edit it. This means it’s much more coherent for you to read! And covers up the mistakes on the phone’s part. This just means that everything in my head is coming out as it needs to and then all I really do is add in punctuation and that means, I hate this word, I can be as ‘real’ as possible about PCOS and mental health for those of you out there that maybe need to hear this story. If I can be to my readers ,or to those who stumble across this blog who has PCOS or lives with mental health issues, someone to relate to and therefore feel less alone with these conditions, I don’t think that’s a bad thing at all.
So it’s been 3 weeks since I wrote and (if you want to just follow the link below it will go back to that blog in particular) it discussed how busy our life had been since our Scotland trip. So, we got back from Scotland on the 2nd of October and I didn’t write for 11 days. It’s now been 3 weeks since that day, so in fact it’s been nearly 5 weeks since the loss of momentum with the writing. What I found I was doing was posting the blog title and then catching up with writing later or spending a whole day just writing blog after blog and then scheduling them to publish. I wasn’t just doing one a day I was either doing 0 or 4 and it just didn’t work. Then I found myself in a pit I could not climb out of.
I’ve not sat here doing nothing. I have been really busy. We decorated our home office and that was back to the bare bones. The skirting came off, we took all the furniture out, the windowsill came.We had to do this has it’s not really been done properly in the six years we have lived here. We’ve got a lot, as you can imagine, of cameras, lenses, photography bits and travel gear in that room, as well as a computer and other you know fiddly bits. All the furniture was all dismantled and removed. It then took over a week to decorate as there was a mishap with paint where we didn’t have enough and the store no longer did that colour. I could go on but you can imagine how it eventually worked itself out.
There was a lot going on and at the same time I’ve been having some osteopathic treatment for my back. The first session, which to be honest I thought was quite tame, didn’t really make much difference to my sciatic pain and I was worried it wasn’t going to benefit me at all. The lady did discover that the bottom of my spine had twisted and therefore on the second visit she did manipulate my sacrum quite a bit and I did feel a lot more pressure in that area. Since then I have been happy with the results and the advice on how to sit and sleep moving forward is really important because that is a massive factor in the predicament I have found myself in. Unfortunately it’s just what we are used to isn’t it, we get into the same positions to feel comfortable. That has been a change in the last week, unfortunately my step nan died last week. When the opportunity arose in September to go and see her, I didn’t go because of my back issue.There was a plan that as soon as I could sit reasonably in a car again that we would travel over to Wales. Sadly, I didn’t get the chance and because of covid I haven’t seen her since late August 2019. That’s been a really harsh blow and naturally I have been beating myself up about it since. We had been writing letters to each other for the past three years and I will miss that massively.
We’ve taken our time putting the office back together so we can take advantage of space and this week I’ve capitalised on this new found sense of get up and go and decluttered the house. We aren’t necessarily messy people but the small changes have made big changes to my frame of mind. I’ve been putting picture frames on walls rather than having them on furniture, just to give the element clear space and to be honest it has really helped to have a lot more order to our home I’ve also had a clear out of my wardrobe and I’ve earn some extra money on vinted which is always great this time of year. I’ve not really experienced money troubles or worries with all the new problems with the economy but it’s always in the back of my mind. I do worry about Mr W and how he takes it all on board. So just by making those few extra pounds I hope it takes the burden off a little bit or you know shows that I’m trying. And there you go, that’s where we’re at up until today really.
The biggest change has come about in my mental health. Where a few years ago, especially during the first few months of covid in 2020, to ease my anxiety over what was happening in the world I would keep myself busy. To cover the cracks in my own problems and my own dealings with it, I would just constantly keep busy but as soon as the busy times stopped the anxieties were still there. In the last 6+ months I’ve actually tried to settle into my anxieties and just feel the feelings because they’re not going to go away. Just because you’ve cleaned your house top to bottom with a toothbrush or you’ve decided to go for a 4 hour walk, in my experience, doesn’t mean your anxieties are banished. It just pushes it aside, it doesn’t really deal with it. I’ve been focusing on what I’ve been feeling to try and process it a lot better but the problem is the deeper you go the harder it is to find your way out. Especially when you can’t pinpoint why you feel so sad. There is a lot of negativity going on in the world and my own struggles with maybe never having a child have thrown me through a loop. The past 3 to 4 weeks have possibly been the worst mental health time for me in a very very long time. What’s worse is on the outside, so as soon as I step outside our front door, I’ve almost gone back to how I used to behave. Putting on a rather poor show that everything’s fine, happy happy, happy, go lucky but as soon as I’m back home I just retreat and Mr W and I just settled into this whole routine of home life. Get up, do the dishwasher, cook dinner, watch TV, go to bed and my and Mr W’s relationship has become quite static. We’ve had a lot of time to talk over the past week about how to make some changes and see what we can do. We’ve got a few things in the pipeline over the next couple of weeks, and like I said it is really there a little things that make the biggest differences.
I will be writing again, I’m not going to sugar coat what’s been going on but I hope by looking back at the Scotland trip, because I still haven’t finished the itinerary blogs and their highlights for you, I’m hoping that it will give me some structure. Looking back as well, which I haven’t done in weeks, will remind me of that fantastic trip and will ignite in me the need (obviously) to pursue the next trip.
We have a little trip coming up in 10 days, a tiny trip, but we’re going somewhere we’ve never been before and I’m hoping I’ll be able to share it with you live so that’s something really exciting. It’ll give us a lovely little boost before Christmas. We have so many lovely things coming up over the next couple of weeks and then we are currently talking about what’s going to happen next year in terms of travel of which I’m already so excited about. Potentially we’re going to two new countries and travelling in a way we’ve not traveled before so that is really exciting. It’s obviously also something to think about logically because of the economy. I don’t want travel to be the reason we fall apart when we have responsibilities at home as well. There’s gonna be a lot of talk but I often find that that’s how we shine as a couple. We brainstorm and explore and we grow individually and together. In some way’s that’s why I write this blog because travel for me eases so many worries in my life.
I used to think it was because it was an escape, that when something bad happens I just run away but now I find it just brings out the best in me. That my anxieties just float away. Maybe it’s down to the fact that when we travel I have my itinerary and I know what to expect. There are no questions and I feel safe. I’m safe from the unknown. For instance today, our igniter broke on our oven and it seems that every year something big goes wrong in our home. You can’t predict it nor can you run away. You have to find the easiest way through anxieties or none. I also think travel just brings out the best in me and that’s because the anxieties of PCOS, mental health and homelife (to a certain degree) don’t exist in my travel brain. They’re all gone for a short portion of time. I get to exist as who I am. I don’t have PCOS nor does my brain hate me.
The plan is to continue travelling on a budget because we, quite frankly, don’t know how to go backwards. It’s not that we would not worry about money when it comes to travel, you just make it work but now we realise it’s not about the money you spend, it’s about the experience you have and they don’t have to cost the world. We have done that for so long. Since the covid pandemic really. We have changed so much as travellers that it would seem almost foreign to go backwards.
Really looking forward to the next couple of weeks and seeing what actually happens next year so stay tuned and thanks for sticking around.
This is my highlight from Day 6 of our recent trip to Scotland to drive the NC500 route.
The links for the itinerary and recap of this day are below. I hope one day you experience this magical route for yourself.
Wailing widow falls is 50 foot high and flows off a nearby Loch. Read the linked blog below to find out about our eventful walk to see the waterfall from above and why this part of the day was such a turn in the other direction.
As you will gather, the day so far had been really special. Smoo Cave, pristine beaches and a shoe losing incident that had me nearly peeing my pants. Although I did have to pee behind some heather eventually or actually pee my pants. The whole trip so far had been a test on whether my sciatic nerve would let me walk where and when I wanted to. So far so good. Arthurs Seat. Duncansby Stacks. Big Burn Falls. All amazing days with the stubbornness in me pushing my body to its painful limits.
Wailing Widow falls presented a new idea of waterfalls to this lover of the cascading beauties. It flows directly from Loch na Gainmhich and having seen it partially from above, it was an exciting thought to see it from the riverbed below.
Advertised as being one of the easiest and shortest walks in Scotland, my feet and back were thrilled at the idea. Something that excites me about hiking is how new it still feels to me. Having travelled extensively but never really done the Uk breaks before, I have a newfound love for hiking. It started in August 2021 when we took a short break to Northumberland and fell head over heels for the challenges of hiking the hills to reach the rewards waiting at the end of the trails. This is where my obsession with waterfalls started and in 2 short days we had hiked to 4 complete stunners. We also turned our feet to the trail alongside Hadrian’s wall to Sycamore Gap. As a complete novice, my only real piece of walking attire are my boots. When I slip them on I feel powerful and I trust them to stop me slipping and tripping. Other clothing is simple layers under a thick fleece gilet and beanie hat. I am yet to look into proper waterproofs as shopping while living in a bigger body is fraught with frustrations and feelings of inadequacies. And yet, so far, the odd rain shower has not deterred us from taking on the northern temperatures and changes in weather.
As someone who has and does travel for pleasure, I have questioned myself quite often in the past year as to why this new found enjoyment of walking has become so embedded into who I am. The pleasures I usually find on holidays are wandering around a city or laying on a beach. I sometimes wonder if this new obsession will run its course, as is so often the case for new found hobbies, and yet we are already in the midst of planning two more hiking holidays. I think something I don’t want to face up to a lot of the time is not having the confidence to do these things. I will still catch myself looking at other people on hikes and wonder what they are thinking when they are looking at me. Are they questioning whether I should be on these walks? Hell, on Arthurs seat, I came down from the top scooting on my bum and felt quite embarrassed as it is one of the first hikes we have done where we have been surrounded by hoards of people. The usual places we go to are really quiet. I scooted down the sides of two secluded waterfalls in Northumberland last year, got covered in mud and didn’t care an iota. I hate the part of myself that desperately clings to others’ perceptions of me on the path of loving myself.
I believe the reason I have enjoyed hiking so much is coming to realise that the body I live in and have hated for so long is capable of so much more than I give it credit for. Having spent many vacations walking around cities and the odd day spent trailing across London I know that my walking endurance has always been there. Yet something about the hills, rocky slopes and stumbling pathways of the UK feels different. It feels like an accomplishment to return to the car, coated in grime and sweat, having been out in the elements relying only on my body’s strength to get me through. There have been times when a simple guide on the internet will describe the walk as 2 miles and yet when you are on trail you realise this is most definitely not the case. But by the time your brain catches up with your feet and logic kicks in you are invested and it no longer matters. The journey is just as important as the ending. The legs once so fat in your mind’s eye are pushing on. The only thing that stops them is you.
That is why when planning our trip to Scotland it was less about Edinburgh and the towns and more about hikes and rivers and lochs and everything in between. Both Mr W and I feel such a great need to keep this new love for the outdoors alive that we have approached travelling in this fresh way without too much trepidation.
Maybe that is why when my confidence came crashing down around me I took it so badly.
As I said above, the advice online about the walk to Wailing Widow falls said it was a short and simple walk. We had already noticed that the western side of the Highlands was much soggier than the east and yet armed with our boots we ventured onto the trail heads held high. From only about 10 metres into the walk we noticed just how different this was from other walks we had taken in the UK. Where most trails were signposted. This was not. Where most walks had clear pathways. This did not. Where other walks had rails or even trees to cling to. This DID NOT. In fact the only picture I can paint in your mind is this. Imagine a fast flowing river on your right. It isn’t deep, it’s very clear and it is very cold. Rather than running alongside a well defined river bank, there are rocks and custard thick pools of mud that meet the waters edge. In front of you are a few deeply set footprints in the mud which help you navigate the way. The ‘path’ is not flat and seems to follow a very up and down pattern much like a constant seesawing motion along the riverbank. When the ground levels out there are enormous boulders you have to climb, stretch and pray your way over. You pray that the mud on your boots won’t cause you to slip. The rocks in the ground are not steadfast and they too seesaw in their muddy grottos under your feet.
Now, I am a stubborn person. I will always try before walking away. In fact we made it over 60% along this trail before I realised that my anxiety was taking over and my brain was no longer operating my limbs. For every step I took Mr W was checking the route beforehand. If the mud wasn’t threatening to slide my legs into the river the moving forwards were going to throw me in. After 30 minutes or so, my anxiety exploded out of my body in one of, if not THE, worst panic attacks I have ever had in my life. My whole being sensed the danger and I started shaking and crying. I clung to my husband with actual fear flooding through my veins. He tried to get me to calm down and yet I felt like I was going to die. Looking back, I know if I had fallen in the water, other than being cold and wet, I would not have died and I would have been able to stand quite easily in knee deep water. And yet, on that riverbank, with the unsteady boulders and boulders and thick mud, my brain and the logic it brings with it, shut down.
As I stood in absolute fear and panic, two women walked towards us having completed the trek. I turned quickly to hide my face. It was a response I didn’t question at the time but it is only now I know why I didn’t want them to see me. With my face strewn with tears and my lip quivering I didn’t want to be the fat girl who couldn’t complete the walk. Who am I to think they even cared about me, albeit if you see someone crying, you naturally want to check if they are okay. But who am I to think that they are considering my weight and my ability over their own footfall. My god, I need to get out of this pattern of thinking. At that moment in time, those ladies were watching their feet and the sketchy landscape around us a whole lot more than thinking about my dress size.
The truth of the matter is, and something Mr W and have spoken about at length, is that trail is really dangerous. Upon further investigation online I found a lot of advice about the walk that said how risky it was. With a clear mind upon our return I naturally started thinking about each day and visit and what they entailed. When I thought of this particular visit I started piecing together the images and realised that the slopes of the riverbank had slipped and we had been navigating the aftermath of rock and earth.
I am also now very aware that my confidence in hiking will take a hit now and again because no walk is ever going to be the same. Just because my ability is better than I thought it initially was does not mean I can do everything. When I see other people looking at me in such a mess I naturally think they are seeing my weight and coming to their own conclusions. Fortunately I have given myself a massive figurative slap round the face. My weight does not stop me stepping onto muddy river banks. Nor does it stop me balancing on a rock that is moving under my feet. My fear stops me doing those things. I am afraid because it is a new situation. I am still learning about my abilities in this new hobby.
That day, my confidence took a massive hit. I stood shaking and hysterical amongst those muddy boulders clinging to Mr W with my entire being because fear had finally found me. Why then, have I set out to describe this visit as a highlight to you?
Sitting in the car afterwards, I felt the flooding of anger replace my fear. As we drove to our next stop I watched the mountain ranges and let their calming influence take hold of me. This was one moment in a wonderful day. You have to take the bad with the good. Not two hours before had I been bent double, clenching my legs together, unable to breathe through the laughter. This was not a bad day. It was a bad paragraph in what was a pretty phenomenal chapter.
I still sit here and regret not overcoming my fears that day. I regret that so far I haven’t seen that waterfall and I regret crumbling so much like that riverbank. My fear in the moment engulfed my stubbornness to carry on and I learned that as much as I need to recognise the strengths in my body, I need to acknowledge the weaknesses too. There was a reason for me to be scared that day. I had reached the limits of what I was used to and what I could push myself to do. As someone living in a bigger body and hating that body for my whole life I will always blame my size for my physical limitations and yet that day it was my mind that stopped and said no. As someone who has been bigger than most people my age in every situation I will also put limitations on what I should or should not be doing. Don’t get up and dance at the wedding reception, I tell myself, people will only stare. Don’t wear the dungarees, it’ll show your belly in a way people aren’t used to. Don’t hike that river, your legs can’t carry you.
What a load of bull. Since covid I have danced at parties without the need of an alcoholic drink to stop that voice. I have bought dungarees and am slowly starting to change my wardrobe to reflect the style I think I like. It is hard to say if I do like something for sure or not because I don’t think I’ve ever found a style I am comfortable in, but that is one huge other discussion I will find time to go over at some point. I have believed my legs can carry me over hills, rock faces and treacherous river banks. It is only when my mind shut my body down that I recognised the weaknesses in me deserve a voice. And they have nothing to do with my weight.
I am so very busy putting together the last bits for our Scotland trip and yet I found myself reminiscing about a trip from a long while ago.
In 2008, my mum took my brothers and I to the Dominican Republic. She has been before herself and always wanted us to go. It was, until that point, the furthest we had ever been from home. The weather was sticky and hot. The beaches were stunning. The pool was cool.
And boy did it rain. Every other day the heavens opened, the floodgates opened and it rained cats and dogs. It wasn’t itty bitty rain, it was big stair-rod rain that forced its way through clouds and air to the ground. The lush greenery was evidence of its great power on the island.
Whenever it rained, sun loungers would be thrown aside as people grabbed belongings and ran for shelter. Bodies would burst from the pool and into the dry doorways of hotel rooms.
And it wasn’t until I started planning for Scotland that I saw how funny this practice was.
People would get out of the pool because the rain would make them wet.
Hysterical.
Whilst planning Scotland, I have had to think about every eventuality when it comes to food, weather and clothing. We have hotels booked every night but to keep costs down we are taking about 90% of our food for the fortnight and have needed to be quite inventive in our approach to every travel aspect. Something we will be doing for the first time is wild swimming. We have invested in wetsuits and as a bigger girl this is something that I would usually avoid. Wetsuits are unforgiving when it comes to lumps and bumps. And yet I had a fuck it moment.
The other day I was looking up the details of Loch Maree and made a mental note to pack a woolly hat to wear with the wetsuit so no heat escapes through my bonce. Good eh? I then made a small prayer that it wouldn’t rain while we were swimming…
See where I’m going with this?
Heaven forbid it rains while we are in a body of water.
And there you have it. We have come full circle from the Dominican Republic to the Scottish Highlands. Lovely. I really think situations can be determined by your approach. Why run from the rain? Clothes dry, puddles evaporate, may as well make the most of it!
Sticky notes lay out in various colours across my bedroom floor. My friend and I had some planning to do. Our first trip abroad was looming and we wanted to make the most of it. We were 17 going on 18 and New York was calling. My friend had wholeheartedly been on board with going on the trip however when I asked what she wanted to do she had no idea. The pressure was on to make sure she had the best time. In my mind I had wandered those streets thousands of times. Now I was preparing to make those walks a reality.
As we sat there on that wooden floor, we used the post it notes to piece together a plan for our 5 days in Manhattan. We put them into columns based on which days they would work best on and used a map to pinpoint which stops were close to one another. This was way before I was confident using the internet and so the process took us a few hours. And yet it was exciting.
The trip in the Spring of 2004 was amazing. Perfect even. And therein started the development of my skills towards itinerary creation. Since then I have created itineraries for family, clients and Mr W and myself. It is an absolute joy. There is something so soothing to create something particular and bespoke. A blank piece of paper transforms into a carefully crafted and researched travel bible.
I’ve never really had much confidence in my ability. It is a mixture of self esteem issues and a bad experience working in the travel industry. Recently I have felt particularly crap about it all due to my client list becoming practically nil due to the pandemic.
Last week, I had the best time talking to a new friend on zoom. She lives in America and we met on a facebook group in March 2020. The group was a place to talk about Italy and at the time was being flooded with questions about Covid and how the country was doing. It became very clear very quickly in which way the new virus was going and it became a space to share fears and tips on how to salvage our bookings.
Over two years later Carrie and I have shared pleasantries online. We have a similar travel history and I was able to share our trip to Italy in September 2020 with her as she is yet to rebook her own. Just a month or so ago she told me the very exciting news that she would be coming to England for the first time. She asked if I would look at her list of plans and let her know if I could recommend anything she had missed.
I said it might be worthwhile talking ‘in person’ and after a few hiccups we finally ‘met’ last week. I’m always nervous meeting a new person but having been laid up with a bad back all day and only remembering that I was due online at the last minute I felt exceptionally unprepared. As someone who is trying to remember that the least interesting thing about myself and others is the way we look, I annoying found myself finger-brushing my hair and thanking my low-light lamp.
No worry was ever needed less. Carrie was so friendly and intrigued by my accent that we spent a good 20 minute talking about all sorts of things. Afterwards, we got down to the nitty gritty and talked incessantly about London. Although Mr W and I spend a lot of our free weekends in our capital city I do find that we avoid tourist traps and feel that our days there would not be too impressive to an out of towner. It soon became clear that the index in my mind was so much bigger than I originally thought and I found myself smiling as Carrie took copious notes. It was as if a light had blinked into life in my brain and I sat for over an hour unloading everything I knew. We agreed to meet up when she comes over and I sat in quiet contentment at my ability to spurt out knowledge so quickly. There was another half hour or so of chatter about Paris, Italy and how we generally approach travel and I felt the prickles of twinship with another soul.
With promises to share our Scotland trip with her and glance over her London itinerary upon my return I signed off for the night. I sat for a while smiling. A new friendship across the Atlantic ocean was forming and based on something so very special to me.
It was a great pleasure to be reminded of just how much travel is embedded in my very being. I’ve been quietly simmering with pride ever since. It also reminded me of how friends can come from anywhere at any time in our lives. I am revelling in a new experience however small it may seem from the outside looking in.
Note to self, this is just another reason to take a chance when you maybe aren’t feeling your most confident.
And a pinch of looking around and taking it all in
A cup of positivi-tea. Boil yourself a brew.
You may have read my piece ‘Mental health: triggers’ (linked below). If you did, you’ll now know about the impact negativity has on my mental health. The problems of being a people pleaser and an emotional cheerleader is draining. In my own being I am inherently a negative person. I look at myself with less than loving eyes and foresee potential problems to safeguard myself against future worries. Silly when tomorrow’s worries become today’s sleepless nights. Ironically I don’t want others to feel bad in their lives and try to be a positive influence on them. I am the epitome of not living by my own advice. Silly girl.
I have started to view the world in a rather ‘off’ way recently as I recognise my own mental health triggers. I have seen maybe what I have not seen before and wondered if my eyes have deceived me. Has my new awakening conjured up the negative people or have they been there all along?
It wasn’t until I was watching the news reports on the passing of our Queen that a particular phrase struck me. The man being interviewed had been asked how he thought the world would react to Her Majesty’s passing. He said the obvious things about sadness and grief and yet went on to say how the world of late had become very angry. Though this is a natural reaction when grieving, he said it in a way that it would be outside of the grief, and just how people are used to reacting today. It got me thinking about how true he was. I started to wonder why the world is so angry.
The unrest of the last 30 months has been so unprecedented that the human race has become the tennis ball being hit backwards and forwards at such a rate that we are all worn and befuddled. I understand the reaction. I even understand the anger. We are the proverbial two year old who is tired and yet doesn’t want to sleep. We want ice cream, a pony ride, a big fluffy blanket, pasta, our favourite movies, a day at the beach and hugs all at once. Now! We need constant reassurance. We are catching up with the events of 2020 while navigating 2022 and wondering where on earth the year 2021 went. We are battling through a kind of PTSD while engaging with more battles foreseen and wondering when the peace will return. I understand entirely.
What is happening is unbelievable. Incredibly implausible. Far-fetched. Unthinkable. Impossible and preposterous. What has happened is the same. What will happen is enough to make us sink to our knees and beg the world to stop spinning.
And yet it won’t.
The only thing you can control is how you react. Everything that has happened was hard and everything that will come to pass is hard. At each step we are tested. There has been no rest. Just a hard slog through. And yet you are still here. You are choosing to continue. To not give up. Just waking up in the morning, making a cup of your favourite hot drink and walking out that front door proves you have not given up. I promise you that your reaction is your armour against whatever this life throws at you. If you need to scream. Do it. If you need to shout. Go for it. Stomp that foot. Throw those arms in the air. Bow that head with frustration. But do not give up.
Anger is the one emotion that controls you. So let it in. Let it do its thing. And then throw it into the wind. Let the wind carry it far away. You are not anger. You are who you choose to be. Don’t let anger rule your heart. It will win. You will lose yourself. You will sink to your knees and not regain your composure.
How you react to whatever life throws at you is the person you will be moving forward. I feel your pain. We all do. Life is damn hard. Don’t let it change who you are. You deserve so much more.
One cup of positivity
½ cup of reality – it sucks, but it is all we have.
3 spoons of sugar – there is sweetness locked into the smallest moments, if you only take the time to seek them out.
One cup of gratitude – put your hand on your chest. Inside is a heart that beats to keep you breathing, walking and talking. Feel the breath in your lungs. The pulse in your wrists. You are alive.
And a pinch of looking around and taking it all in – go on, do it.
Drink it all up. Let it warm you and comfort you. You are not alone.
On social media there are photos of children in their clean and ironed school uniforms. They are standing still for the first photo of the new school year. There are remarks about how time has flown and how much has changed in one year.
I’ve never noticed it before but today was unreal. Photo after photo. And then there’s me excited to be travelling again soon. It made me feel like travel is our baby. That with others around me chatter revolves around children and babies and with us it is what country or city is next. Is travel a distraction? Is that all it has ever been?
That may sound dramatic but when you start feeling like something is missing in your life you ultimately look back at choices to see if things could have been different. The truth is that no, travel, although an escape in my late teens/early twenties, is one of the greatest joys in my life today. It makes me strong, confident and the best version of myself. I am grateful to be able to still go out into the world as much as we do now and to have Mr W with me.
Today I started feeling really guilty about the time I have spent travelling instead of finding a way to deal with my fertility issues. Hey guess what, if you had a baby six years ago, you’d be sending a child off to school today. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. But again, you question everything in your life when you are feeling particularly sad. What could I have done differently? Nothing.
And that’s the truth.
I hope when the day comes that I’ll show my child the picture of me in my uniform and tell them about my school days. I hope to take the picture of them on the doorstep as they take the leap into their scholastic life. One day I hope to share that photo with the people around me who have waited just as long as me to see it.
For now I have no one to send to school. So I take the joy in the things I do have instead of those I don’t. I want to be mentally healthy for the baby I will one day hold in my arms.
Today I donned a blue dress. I’m not a fan of blue but it was a special occasion.
A baby shower for my cousin. She is having a little boy.
Hence the blue.
The balloons were hung with care. The sandwich platters laid out just so. The sun even made an appearance. Do I like baby showers? Yes. Do I find them difficult? Also yes.
It’s a reason to eat party food, which are just little bite sized morsels of foods of your own choosing, get together with loved ones and a chance to celebrate the future. Someone in your life is happy and therefore sharing that happiness is only natural.
Today was no different. There was chatter and laughter. Quizzes and games. The games had us guessing the weight, name and arrival date of the baby boy. Even though when the event was announced I had been apprehensive about going, I didn’t feel anxious or upset by being there. By having time to prepare over the last few months, my feelings of insecurity around our own fertility was put on the backburner and I sat for hours with family enjoying the time together.
As people slowly drifted out of the door to travel home, Mr W and I sat with my cousin’s wife and thier baby while the gazebos came down and the empty plates were tidied away. Baby Grace is 5 months old and so far I’ve managed to avoid the cuddles. It has to be said she is the smiliest baby with the most adorable chubby cheeks and so my trepidation about cuddles has nothing to do with her. I’m just very aware of being around baby’s and how it can affect my mental health. Nothing like a baby being in your arms to remind you that you don’t have one of your own. And then, she was in my arms. I didn’t crumble but by now my poker face is my real face. I’m getting pretty good at it.
After everyone but us had left we stayed behind to chat. My Aunt got upset and said she wondered how on earth I had coped. Despite my insistence that I was fine she got really upset on behalf and it took a while to calm her down. In all honesty I hadn’t really felt sad until that moment. Like I said before, the time to mentally prepare for the day had helped a great amount. I was not however prepared to help someone who was sad for me.
It is a difficult path to tread when struggling with fertility. If you keep it close to your chest you end up feeling alone. There is also the odd occasion when and if someone asks what the situation is that you’ll both feel awkward for needing to discuss it. Alternatively if you do tell those around you what’s going on, you open up the can of proverbial worms which can wriggle around at any moment. They should feel comfortable to ask how things are going whenever they want to. Unfortunately it can catch you at a time when you are quite happy ignoring the situation. It then brings the whole issue to the forefront out of the blue.
So what’s the happy medium? How do we tell people so they are in the know and yet not have to talk about it when it’s the right time for them? There is now how. You can’t control it. You can perhaps ask to talk about it another time. But what if it’s a reaction like I had today, the sadness of tears. It almost feels strange to sit there consoling someone who is sad for yourself. I’ve thought about it a lot. Would I rather no one know? No, been there done that. Would I rather talk about it all the time? No. I need space from this reality from time to time.
So what is the answer?
Ultimately I don’t think there is one. I think as honest as we have been about our struggle is just how honest we have to be about our feelings when approached to talk about it. If today was a day I needed to ignore my feelings then so be it. If someone else gets upset I need to understand that too. If I need to scream I will. If we aren’t in the place to talk it is okay to say so. It all comes back to being honest and open. It’s the only way to be kind to ourselves. We told others to share a part of ourselves that is hurting. They ask because they care.
Framework Travel 