Scotland was amazing. Challenging and humbling as a long walk should be. I nibbled on wild strawberries and contemplated an ultimate surrender as a bog took half my leg and shoe. I did manage to retrieve both, thankfully, just a little damaged but in working order. Both foot and shoe stayed muddy for days but functional.
I had left Athena behind in Edinburgh and with the help of new friends I picked up a pack, walking poles, and headed for the start of the Penine Way.
I will divulge much more in some short stories.
I am honored to have a few short stories in a book created by Thor and Siffy Torkildson called The Walkabout chronicles: Epic Journeys by Foot.
Available on Amazon here.
But for now, let's get to the title of this blog. A Tramp. It's quite an interesting word to me. I only ever heard it growing up as a nasty word to describe a promiscuos woman. However, New Zealand (and Mr. Webster) describes it as a walk through a place for long distances. A local kiwi goes tramping in the forest or in their paddocks or through the town. So, I'm a proud woman declaring that I'm about to go tramping myself in the woods.
I'll take a deep breath and see if I can share a few highlights now.
I walked the heather moorlands where the Brontes sisters lived and understand how lonesome those hills were to inspire Wuthering Heights. The slugs in Scotland like Oats. Tartan is the true word for plaid.
Back in Sicily, a woman joined me for a week- she taught me how to open a bottle of wine with just a sneaker. No joke. And yes, I'm proud to have that in my bag of tricks. Thanks Nadia!
There's a lot more but for now I'll practice writing these strange and wonderous events to share it with you as a whole picture in the future.
Thank you for all your encouragement and support.