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This past week I spent canoeing and hiking along the way down Glenn Finnan, down the river and to where the sea meets the river and Glenn Moirdart.We camped there under the watchful eye of Castle Tioram (pronounced Cheerumn).It was an incredible experience and one I will always cherish, but one that was personally very difficult.I didn't let on to the group I was in, but physically I'm just not up to the capacity I used to be.Running around like I was ten years younger, I was bound to hurt myself.For most of the trip, I sat on the front of the canoe as the power rower.Laura, one of the guides who was sitting behind me, joked to the other canoes that she had an engine on the front of her canoe - that she only had to steer and the 'engine' (me) would do the rest.Indeed I am quite strong.When I got into "Karate Kid" rhythm (wax on… wax off…), I was unstoppable.I just kept paddling and paddling and paddling and….. that is, until my carpel tunnel kicked in and I had to switch sides.Then I'd be at it again, transferring muscle power from my hip, up my core and through my back to my arms.It was almost zen-like - the rhythm of the movement.Like Tai Chi.Seven days of that… I was smoked.But intermingled between paddling stretches were day hikes and exploring around the banks and up into the hills above the loch.Our opponents were the weather (kind of like Florida - can't make up it's mind); the midges (teeny tiny mosquito-like bugs that would dive into you like a kamikaze.Kind of like gnats - only blood-sucking cesspool 'festations' that leave little welts all over any exposed skin); and ourselves - our own mental or physical limitations.There were ten of us.7 Brits, 1 Frenchie, 1 Irish lass and one loud-mouthed American, hooping and hollering after jumping in the freezing cold loch.Oddly enough, there wasn't one Scot on that trip.Then again, Scots wouldn't take a guided trip like this because they'd probably be able to guide it themselves.But could they plan and coordinate the kind of cuisine we had?I think not!The eating was excellent - although a bit strange to me how life is planned more around when to take a tea break than anything else.Nonetheless, we were not wanting for caloric intake.I noted to one of the guides how grateful I was for that, seeing how for the past 6 months anything I ate in Afghanistan made me sick.I am so grateful that my decisions involved choosing if I should have more rather than if I should eat at all.
Experiencing the wilderness of Scotland like we did gave each of us a whole new awareness of its realities.Looking at the green glens and bens, they appear to be perfect for an easy afternoon stroll.Negative.What you don't see from a distance are the bogs - round tufts of grass about the size of a large mixing bowl surrounding by muddy runoff streams about 6-10 inches wide.The tufts have large blades of grass that lean over the trenches, obscuring them from view.Each step is a surprise.Either your stepping up onto a foot-high bog, or down to your knees in the mire.Up down Up down Up down… murder on the ankles and knees.Multiply that by about 6 hours and a very bouncy, energetic guide (sort of like Tigger), it's hard to even notice the beauty of the surrounding areas because you're just trying to not take a nose-dive into the bog.Waterproof boots?Forget about it.The mire is so deep in some areas, the sludge just pours into the top.The second hike we did I wore my neoprene socks - much better!
There is so much more to write about as far as how the experience went, but what's more important is what I learned during my time out there.I noted in my previous blog entry that I am a changed woman.It wasn't the camping that did it.No.The 'change' happened many months ago, but I came to a more solid understanding of it while alone in my thoughts during paddle meditation.The things that I used to care and fret about are no longer, and I find myself desiring and finding fullness in very different things.Many of these things are personal to me so I don't think a blog is the right place to 'talk' about it.But having that time to place many internal things on a scale helped me see what now is of weightier concern.So the mighty change of heart didn't occur on the trip, just a filling of my understanding.You see, I don't think that change is necessarily experience-related.Rather, it comes about as a culmination of many.But most notably, the change within the heart comes from something far bigger than any experience.The mind and intellect changes with experiences, but if we don't seek that change of heart - it stays the same, thus producing that cyclical pattern we tend to fall into sometimes.In other words, we keep making the same mistakes over and over and over because our heart has not changed.We know something is wrong, but we do it anyway.That is torture on self-confidence and esteem.But we fail to address the core of the matter - which is the heart and not simply the actions.Until we ask for help from above to change the heart (the only way it can really be changed), the actions will keep repeating themselves.For example: my tattoos.They're there.They aren't going away.But that's not the point.The point is who I was during that period of time when I got them.The addiction became stronger than reason.No matter how hard I tried, the desire and wanting was still there, even after I 'decided' I was done getting them.But when the heart changed, my mind and eyes changed.I don't look at them with regret, but I also don't look at them the same.They aren't as significant as they once were.But they are what they are and that is that.Anyway, I'm getting off on a tangent.
Camping in the highlands of Scotland was a difficult experience for me both physically and mentally, but I am very grateful I did it.I wish to go on more about that, but I've got more vacationing to do and more memories to make before I write them down.
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