As I mentioned previously, I’m enjoying my efforts of making sense of this long-distance walking in general, and of this South West Coat Path in general.  I’m afflicting you with more of my early thoughts here, especially as this walk relates to pilgrimages.

For simplicity’s sake, a pilgrim is a person moving toward a destination. In Sigeric’s time, pilgrims often walked the Via Francigena with others. For those walking to Santiago de Compostela in Spain, pilgrims walked as a group. Safety in numbers.

In England, I walk with one other person. Thirty days, one other person. On the second day, an older woman from Maine and I walk for several hours. Not a single walker companion after that day. Amazingly though, on my last day, I meet a German teacher on a sabbatical who had also started at Minehead, my starting point. As our starting dates are only separated by two days, we both are shocked that we never met!

I did meet individuals, friends walking together, multi-generational families. There is never a day that I did not have conversations with others. Of course, I also meet four-legged friends who shared the path. While I meet mainly dogs, I say “hi” to goats, sheep, cattle, and horses.

Since a pilgrim, like other walkers, moves, we almost always have a word about the trail. “Great view ahead.” “Slippery up ahead.” “Lucky you, you get to go downhill.” “The trail is steep going to the next headland.” “Watch out at the exposed section ahead. The wind gusts will blow you over.” On and on.

Unlike most other long-distance walks, I sometimes could see miles ahead. Even if the trail dips, I can see the ocean and the coastline. In many places I walk on gorse or heather covered headlands. At other times, I walked across pastures on those headlands.

In those situations, I look for the trail. I also look for something moving. In particular, I look for a moving backpack. Red, gray, black, green backpacks. The color and size don’t matter. Even though I don’t know the person, even though I may never catchup to talk with that person, I find comfort. Comfort in someone walking the trail in front of me. Sometimes I know that those “someones” are runners completing a marathon and not hikers. Still, I say to myself “This is what to expect.” “Serious uphill, break time.” “Their cruising in high gear, must be easy walking up ahead.”

Moving along a trail can be a solitary experience; however, following a moving backpack assures me that somebody was there and that the trail was “doable.” Pretty important! Important here; important back home.