LEJOG Day 69: Riccarton to Linlithgow

Weather: Sunny and hot with refreshing south-wester

Distance covered today: 30.8km (19.1mi)

Last night's B&B: Heriot Watt University (£43.50)

Cumulative distance: 1391.3km (864.5mi)/ % Complete: 72.7%

GPS satellite track of today's route: Day 69 (click!)

Where did that come from?  There I was complacently looking forward to a restful walk along the Union Canal to the nearby town of Linlithgow. I should have looked more clearly at the maps!  It was another case of using Google Maps to plot the B&Bs and then plotting the actual route with the OS maps when they eventually arrived. I did have a brief initial look at the OS maps, and I failed to notice that there wasn’t a single lock between Riccarton and Linlithgow. The only way the engineers could have achieved that was by wandering all over the geography, and they did that with a vengeance! It turned out to be the second longest walk of my journey so far!  At one point I was heading directly towards John O’Groats, but exactly away from tonight’s B&B, finding myself actually getting further away from JOG with every step towards it!
 
On top of that, it was hot and sultry and I found that my victory celebration in the Battle of the Little Toes was somewhat premature!  The Boots have staged a sneaky comeback. They waited until the Compeed thought it had done its work and removed itself. Then they pounced! I immediately applied new strips in the hope of arresting the situation, but I fear that the damage has already been done! Watch this space for further match reports!

And to cap my displeasure on this disagreeable day, I had taken the trouble to phone tonight’s B&B, which I had seen from the grid reference was well outside the town, to find out whether there was somewhere in the locality I could walk to in order to get a pint and a bite to eat for tea. I was assured there was! When I got there, I was told that it would involve a four mile (6km) round-trip hike down to the village!  No lift was offered! I’m writing this in the pub and I’m delighted to say that the pint in front of me is both anaesthetising my painful little toes and making me feel better about the long trek back up the hill after supper!

It could of course have been so much worse!  The spectacular weather lifted everyone’s spirits along the way. I was amazed how many people were out walking, running and cycling along the canal.  I had become used to the rather dark and dour expression of the average Scotsman that I pass along the way, but today was a revelation!  Everyone was smiling!  I was amused that the weather was the only topic of conversation. The most common comment was “Nice one for it, no?” Generally that was the only comment but the really chatty ones would add “Probably change by tamorra!” To be fair, this was mainly from old men. Youngsters were either too involved in their iPods or too scared of potentially nasty perverts to engage in any conversation at all. At one point, as I was applying Compeed with my socks and boots off, a public servant with a strimmer was approaching, laying waste to the summer growth. His colleague spotted me and tried to persuade the strimmer to cease and desist for fear of injuring me. I couldn’t hear the conversation, but there was lots of effing and blinding and the strimmer wasn’t at all deterred. I hastily donned my boots and moved on, thinking that public servants in Scotland view service as a privilege for the recipient!

I was also impressed to see that the canal was in excellent repair, the very best I have seen anywhere on my journey.  I saw a notice informing me that the money was coming from British Waterways, effectively supported by English taxpayers, and the European Union Development Fund. I was just beginning to become a little jaundiced in my view of the Scots in the Edinburgh/Glasgow corridor when I met a few delightful walkers and I decided it was too early for generalisations!

The thing about canal paths is they are mesmeric. Not a lot changes compared to the excitements of my last few adventurous days. It allows time to think, and if there is anything I have learned on this trip, it is that walking is not a good activity for thinking!  There is generally just too much going on. Today though, was different, partly because I was out there for so long, but mostly because of the peaceful, undemanding canal towpath. I got to thinking about Kelly who I had met much earlier on the journey and who had delightfully and unexpectedly commented on yesterday’s post. Kelly comes from Washington DC, and she made me think about my own memories of that capital city.

Many years ago in 1968, as an exchange student, I had converged on DC on a Greyhound coach, along with thousands of others for a celebration of international brotherhood after our year in the US. We had all been allocated families to stay with and, as a South African, I had been assigned to stay with the Rhodesian High Commissioner.  Those were the days of UDI, and I was fascinated to get the inside story. Hardly had I arrived though than I was told that all the students were going to the DC Stadium for a grand celebration of the youth of the world. More than a thousand of us attended.  I was astounded to hear the Indian delegation argue in plenary that everyone was welcome except the South Africans, who should be required to leave. There was no vote, but the US organisers, sensing an ugly atmosphere, came to me and suggested I leave. I was mortified. I wanted to know why nobody was even interested in what I thought about the situation in South Africa. But I did understand that the Indians had a point, and I left.

I told the Rhodesian High Commissioner about it after my early exit, and he was, in retrospect understandably, hugely incensed. He questioned the decision on constitutional grounds and I understand that there is a reference to his diplomatic intervention on the Congressional Record, though I have personally never seen it and I’m sure he wouldn’t have referred to me by name. I remember him as a thoroughly decent man, representing a regime that became increasingly illegitimate and desperate. It was ultimately responsible for reprehensible acts of terror, but it was no worse than the current government of Zimbabwe.

In those days, I was still dealing in absolute philosophical and political truths.  I had the Jesuits to thank for that.  It was hugely demoralising to find myself branded on the basis of the colour of my skin and my nationality in exactly the way against which I was fighting.  I thought that was an aberration. I have discovered after many years of experience that in most parts of the world, it is the norm.

I must be careful that I do not commit the same calumny on the Scots! 

My B&B for last night. An interesting experience!

I went in search of Silicon Glen. I wasn't too impressed at what I found. The research park looked American in design but uninspiring in aspiration. I was though, looking at the outside. I gave up and headed for the canal...

A statue commemorating the original canal transport. Those horses must have been strong and long-suffering

Today's canal: beautiful and peaceful

The M7.  Another snarling, irritable conduit. It did, though, empty the A-roads! 

A housing estate in Broxburn. The one unifying context throughout the entire United Kingdom is the postie delivering the post! Long may it continue...

A bridge on the canal. It shows the impact on the bridge stones of ropes drawn by horses hauling the longboats in times gone by.

They were drinking a fine Chenin Blanc. For once, with my sore feet, I would have liked to change places!

I find these bridges endlessly beautiful

She certainly got about! When Queen Liz topped her, she should have realised that the Scots would bear a grudge! I had no idea that it would be so widespread!

An enormous dovecote without expanation. But there were lots of doves!

Back to the canal, still in the evening air