So far, I have covered 566km of the route. This doesn’t include the additional distances from getting lost and relocating myself. There is however the need to vent and since this blog was set up as an outlet. A way of putting feelings, fears and ideas in a space where they can be contemplated and made sense of.
This is how I intend to use it today. The language will be harsh. The words of no inspirational value and merely a way of getting out the frustration that builds near the end of each day.
Contrary to belief, I have had enough food. The sources may not match the comforts of everyday life, where your every need and desire is easily met, but there has been adequate nutrition that I rarely felt the need to stop for rest. I have been managing with the tent, and although it allows in biting insects and the inner flynet touches the outer and so needs drying out every day, I have had shelter. My leg however is the source of frustration. It feels like yet another master class in a slow and unavoidable car crash of an adventure. In fact, it feels at times that it should be titled ‘this how to completely fuck up an adventure and a stable life’
The day begins with fresh hope, the pace is good, but as the km pass, the pace drops and the low level pain becomes a scream that blanks out all positivity and engaged the base instinct of anger. Everything is subject to this anger from a rock to a patch of grass. The reality is that the anger is directed at myself and this leads to the inevitable frustration. I end a day mentally exhausted and in need of time away from all but physically I don’t feel like I’ve pushed myself.
Today, for around 1km, I ran. The joy was overwhelming. The frustration was overpowering and tears poured from my eyes. Tears of joy but tainted with the inevitable deathly end to the day, where every step was a battle of will power. I am heading from a tough section to one that will test me even more…
The Swiss Alps in winter, and the longer I take, the tougher and more likely failure will be. The fury that I feel is only abated by observing the joy of ‘the Knights that go ni’ at completing there multiday trip to the mountains.
Some would say that it is a dark place I am in but it’s not. Each step I take…
Each hard earn metre of progress is one step towards a change. I will not be different, but my mentality will be forged by pain, mind numbingly intense pain. This what the ‘dark place’ is. It is a room of metamorphosis and it is our choice to stay and watch to carnage or to leave for the safety of our normal lives that defines it as a dark place or no. I entered, eyes open and along the way, placed my self in a postion where I have closed the windows and barred the shutters. For now, I see little light entering this space, and until I am fixed or am able to make the progress I feel I should be, I will continue to feel as I do. Frustrated. Furiously frustrated and insignificantly alone. This is what I realised in those first two days of pain. Miles away from anyone and anything, placing my hopes on the possibility of a hut at some point and the chance to stop lifting and placing one painful footstep after another.
Negativity is a bastard and best placed in full public view, so it can be seen as the bastard it is. It is a shame…
It taints everything I see in a given day and blinds me to most of the beauty around me.
A landscape carved by fire, water and ice. incredibly breath taking in its beauty but benign to my presence and in no mood to suffer fools gladly.
I give my apolgies only for the complete fuck up of a trip so far, regardless of the progress made.
Tomorrow I will undoubtedly feel different but at present, with a mind that feels like it has done battle with the gods of old legend, I drink, rest and look for solutions. Complaint without action is more pointless and unnecessary than complaining and feeling sorry for one’s self.