If Van Morrison had taken the walk with me today from Inverernan to Crainlarich, he’d surely want to write a song about it. He’s not a Scot, sure, but I think he’d get it in his Celtic heart. Titles like “A Sense of Wonder,” “Into the Mystic,” “In the Garden,” and even “Cyprus Avenue” were in rotation in my head as I walked beside the River Falloch.
This was a gentle one — thank God, after yesterday — no rock piles to climb, few inclines to surmount, no risk to life and limb.
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The WHW trail from Rowardennan to Inverarnan has a bad reputation. No doubt about it. Books call it the hardest stretch in the whole trail. An experienced hiker yesterday called it “Green Hell.”
Let me add to all that: This is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life. Physically, I mean.
The books say this segment is broken into two parts for a total of 14 miles. The reality is you can add a few more miles to that, and a lot of them require climbing up and down, up and down, up and down — over rocks and tree roots, through boggy bits, up steep steps, some ladders, and along nervously narrow cliff-side paths. There are a lot of undulations in that trail.
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I would like to report that the chubby red squirrel navigated its way up the pine tree to the fifth level of branches with no assistance from me whatsoever.
You may be amazed to learn — as I was to see — that Red carried a small pinecone in its jaws while performing this feat.
Look, I know squirrels do this sort of thing very well without me. But it just seemed so important to me at the moment.
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How long did it take? Maybe less than a mile. No, easily less than a mile.
But, technically, I wasn’t lost.
I just didn’t know where I was headed.
And I did feel … what’s the word I’m reaching for? Ah, yes: Foolish.
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It looks like I won’t be wearing a kilt as we hike the West Highland Way.
It’s not that my heart was set up on it. The whole idea started as a bit of a joke. I think Susan suggested that her husband, Brian, wear one because he has nice legs and would look good in one. He good-naturedly went along with the idea.
Rose said my legs were OK, too, and maybe I should wear one. I went hot and cold on the idea.
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Well, we’re off to see the Wizard.
Or very soon.
Our bus left at 1 p.m. for CDMX, the airport in Mexico City. Our British Airways flight takes off at 10 p.m. for Edinburgh. There has been discussion over whether nine hours is leaving enough time to make our flight, given the capricious and precarious nature of highway travel in Mexico.
Our first roll of the dice. First of many in the next couple of weeks, I imagine.
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Sometimes, the best thing you can do is just get out and take a hike. Especially now, while the rains have turned the region into an emerald dreamscape. Sure, the roads and trails can be a bit muddy (OK, a lot in some places). These photos, taken on Saturday, were from a walk near the north end of Pressa Allende.
There is a photo below of the extraordinary power of the Obraje stream as it courses and tumbles through the canyon in El Charco del Ingenio, the botanical gardens. See it before the rains slow down and it returns to a trickle!
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How do they do it? How do they put on some of those costumes that look not only like a second and third layer of skin but a whole winter coat for a grizzly bear — and then head down the street dancing and twirling and skipping to the pulsations of Mega the Sound Systems Inc. on the back of a pickup truck?
Crazy, I tell you!
Locos, by name. This year, the Locos are earning their name and reputation for endurance, exuberance, perseverance, and any other “ences” you can think of. It is hot. Every single day. Hot. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen it rain on a Locos parade.
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This week starts off with not one but three locos parades. Each leaves from a different location at staggard times but they will emerge and find their way back to Parroquia San Antonio de Padua where a towering soundsystem is set up.
There will be dancing food and music into the night. Don’t miss it.
At the other end of the week, the long-awaited memoir and photography of Ojala Ninos founder Elsmarie Norby, “It Is To Wonder,” is published and she will talk about her journey on Friday. Take my word for it: It is too wonderful.
Continue readingHow can you tell if a parade is about to break out in San Miguel de Allende?
Sadly, if you are a gringo, you’re probably the last to know. Parades and processions, for the most part, are cultural. You may not be connected to the network that announces such things. So, pay attention. Follow these tips and you may end up on the sidewalk watching one of the most unique and exciting things to happen in this city.
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Musings, Magic, San Miguel and More 