I’m only three days into my “Four Corners” expedition, backpacking the cardinal points of mainland Scotland. I’ve only walked ten miles and I’m already taking a couple of days off because the weather is challenging and I’m cold and uninspired. I simply don’t think I’m good enough.

Recent challenges and events in my life lead me to this conclusion. It’s a debilitating place to be and certainly not conducive to undertaking a major adventure. It seems to me I’ve arrived at a critical juncture, faced with the many mistakes I’ve made through my life. During these first ten miles of my big walk, my capricious mind was leaping from one personal frailty to another, never dwelling on any faintly positive attribute. I hoped my departure from the Mull of Galloway would be filled with emotions of anticipation, a sense of possibility and excitement. Instead, despite a smiling selfie for social media posterity, I wandered down the road away from the iconic lighthouse atop the mighty southernmost headland, with a deep sense of gloom. I realised then, this journey was to be a personal test for my inner resolve.

I am daunted. I’m not sure I can do this. I’m not certain this time I will make it. I’m hunkered down, avoiding the bitingly intrusive cold, choosing instead to sit with the discomfort of my being. I’m already feeling a failure before I’ve gained momentum. The depression which saw me hospitalised in the early summer last year, suddenly looms above me again. A dark and forbidding shadow like the sleet and snow laden clouds scudding across the tempestuous seas of Luce Bay before me.

There is an ironic temptation for me to allow this cloud of depression to descend and envelope me. It is oddly comforting and this way, I would have an excuse to really give in and rationalise this premonition of failure. There is painful solace in acceding to the illness. I’m not certain I’ve the strength to fight it off.

However, there is a struggle within me as I fiercely debate with myself about giving in or keeping going. I have nothing to prove to the outer world, though I admit I will feel a strong sense of shame in my social media existence, if I were to give up at this stage. The real shame though will lie deep within me and how this will reinforce the negative view I have of myself. I am not good enough.

Experience tells me I will come through this - eventually. I will ‘process’ these self-limiting beliefs and emotions, to achieve a deeper understanding of myself. I will dig deep into my resources to motivate myself into action. I will quite literally, keep putting one foot in front of the other. Right now though, I’m wallowing in self-recrimnation and crystal clear memories of my failings as a man. All the hurt I’ve caused others. My inability to relate well. My tardiness in communicating. My weaknesses. My inability to let go of my past and the hurts it has accrued.

A tag line I associated with this adventure is “walking towards the light”. When I conceived this challenge, this is what I hoped I would gain from the endeavour. It’s symbolic to walk out of the dark of winter, into the bright sunshine of the early spring and the hope this holds. I came up with this journey when I was in hospital last year, pouring over maps of Scotland spread across my hospital bed. It was apposite then, to associate this undertaking as a powerful metaphor for my recovery.

The icy winds batter and howl around me. The forecast is challenging and the enormity of what I’ve chosen to embark on is overwhelmingly daunting. I need to find my mojo and pull my socks up. I need to prove to myself I am good enough.

Onwards!

Tomorrow my wife Karen is going to put me out on ‘solo’ and I’m both excited and nervous about the prospect.

I once worked as an instructor for Outward Bound in the UK and Southern Africa. The twelve years I spent with this remarkable charity informed so much of what I understand of humanity as well as delineating my aspirations for a life well lived. Briefly, Outward Bound is an international charitable organisation (nearing its eightieth anniversary), which primarily provides personal development courses in the outdoors and through outdoor activities. As the name Hoover is synonymous with vacuum cleaners, so is Outward Bound with outdoor personal development training. Those of you who know me will understand how firmly my attitude towards living is anchored in the humanistic precepts of Outward Bound, originating as they did from the great educationalist, Kurt Hahn. Google his name and I hope you’ll agree with me that much of the philosophy he espoused in the mid-twentieth century is as relevant today in the twenty first.

Outward Bound courses by their nature, provided myriad opportunities for powerful personal insights for the course participants. One of the privileges of my life work were hundreds of notable moments when I facilitated significant new awareness for individuals or groups, knowing they would embody this for the benefit of their futures. The ‘mountains speak powerfully’ and through many outdoor challenges, people came to realise the limits they set themselves were eminently flexible - outwards. Witnessing this occur so many times, is a strong reason why I seek this process for myself when I undertake my kayaking journeys or other small adventures. I have come to the conclusion that the outdoor personal development process develops resilient self awareness. Resilient because the metaphors are powerful enough to anchor the moment the awareness came to light, for continued future reference.

A key element of the traditionally long Outward Bound courses (three weeks in length), was the ‘Solo’. Here, the course participants would be individually placed, out of sight of each other, in an area of remote wildness, where they would spend 24 to 48 hours on their own. They would have the means to construct a rudimentary shelter, have basic food rations and all ‘luxuries’ would be taken off them. No books (apart from notebook and pen), no cameras, nowadays no phones and no watches. The purpose wasn’t to elicit individual survival skills but to provide a rare opportunity for contemplative solitude. It is highly uncommon for us in our lives to enjoy total solitude without any distractions. We often think of ourselves alone but in the background there maybe a television, a radio, and these days our phones and the internet. Somehow or other, we are permanently connected to a modern pace of life. Even during my long kayaking journeys when I may be alone for three to four days, I am still connected through online activities, texting and informative sources like my radio. It was hoped for the participants, the removal of everyday distractions would provide a somewhat challenging experience of enjoying solitude - aloneness.

The solo took place mid-course when the individuals were now aware of the personal development process and would have the opportunity to test new awareness out after the solo during the latter stages of the programme. Invariably, the notion of complete solitude was alien to most and a great challenge to many. It certainly wasn’t an activity we could take lightly with plenty of emphasis on safety and the emotional well being of the participants. However, it was the element of the long course programme I enjoyed facilitating. Listening to the excited chatter on the night everyone returns from their solo told me all I needed about the importance of this powerful personal development course element. Of course, not everyone enjoyed the experience. There were often quite a few who decided to make their way back to the base before the allotted time was complete. Each individual would be placed in a suitable spot to create a shelter and shown the defined boundary of their solo site. The importance of remaining within this area was pressed on them and they were instructed to return to the base if they felt unsafe or unhappy and not to seek out other participants, thereby breaking their solitude. If time was given by the instructor into establishing a meaningful reason for the activity and framing it so it held relevance, most if not all participants would embrace the challenge.

As an instructor, solo was a time of rest. It was welcome down time from the rigours of delivering a high energy course. In Wales, we would link the solo with the middle expedition so in the end five days and nights were spent out of the centre. We would arrive at one of the four wooden cabins we used in the expansive Dyfi Forest from the expedition to find trayfuls of solo rations and other rewards. For the instructor there would be our solo bag where we would have put our books, our Sony Walkman, or other little luxuries we would treat ourselves to while our group was out on solo. After placing the individuals out, all that remained was a leisurely 24 or 48 hours where we went and visually checked on them three times a day. The rest of the time was ours. When the time was up, we would collect each individual, chat to them about their experiences and send them on their way back to the base where a huge fry up breakfast was being prepared. The following hours would be given to eliciting awareness through hearing each person’s story and what insights they may have gained.

I remember feeling a level of envy at the end of every solo I delivered because I had never experienced what they had just completed. I had never been on my own for that length of time without my watch and rudimentary kit. As I have said, I am used to solitude but not total solitude. This is an experience I have yet to encounter - until tomorrow this is.

With this dreadful pandemic gripping our nation and the subsequent curtailing of activity, it’s not possible for me to sea kayak to the islands I have wanted to bivouac on. It struck me that in a way, through our social isolating, we are undertaking our modern day solos and really, this will be a wonderful opportunity for me to undertake my first and probably only, proper solo experience. Karen will walk with me to the secluded location I have chosen close to Tobermory and leave me there for a full 48 hours. Two nights and two days. When the time comes, she will walk out and collect me. I will follow the rules I set the participants on my courses; no watch, no camera, no reading book, no modern gadgets, basic shelter, basic rations, sufficient clothes and a note book and pen.

I am both ready for this and reticent too. I’ve conducted my own risk assessment with regard to the state of my mental health. I am entirely confident I will be OK and not detrimentally suffer from my solitude. I know and trust myself enough to return home if this waivers. I have no desires to complete my suicide. I will be safe.

I will write up my experience here on my blog when I return. See you in two days time. :)

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