Almost everybody will share in bumps, bruises, and even blood when they walk.

I question some folks decision to walk parts of the South West Coast Path. Yesterday, hiking up the Gold Cap, at 627 feet the highest point on the southern part of the SWCP, I see an overweight elderly woman, walking with a cane (not a walking pole) hanging onto a younger man (her son I assume) for dear life as she tries to make it up the steepest and highest cliff. YIKES. I’d think twice about walking up this cliff if I was her!

Later, as I walk down Doghouse Hill (I love the names here, earlier I had passed Sheepwash), I meet a younger fellow who had paused. Trying to be encouraging, I say: “Not far now, you’ll be there in another few minutes.” “Thanks. I’ll make it but my wife won’t.” “Yes, it is a hard trek up this hill.” “Well, she’s got a hole in her heart. Maybe I’ve pushed her too hard today. She’s resting partway down.” YIKES. My memory takes me to Roxanne. She lived down the street from us and died probably at the age of 9 or 10 from a hole in her heart. In the late 1950’s, doctors did not know how to help individuals with congenital heart defects such as that.

Earlier, as I’m walking, I’m at Seaton. I pass the giant Golden Cap Holiday Park. I start up Ridge Hill. Only 100 yards up the trail, not a super-steep incline, I pass an older fellow. He’s paused and looks a bit befuddled. “Are you okay?” “Oh, yeah, I’m resting a bit, heading down to my caravan.” I continue “another beautiful, but hot day. How you doing?” “Well, I fell back there. I fell backwards coming down one of the steps and hit my head and tore up my arm a bit. When I hit the ground, my glasses flew off. Having bit of a problem making it down the hill without them.” YIKES. I may be projecting, but I’m blind without my glasses! “Well, stay here. I’ll go look for them.”

In only a few yards, I see one series of steps. To be honest, the vegetation along the trail is so thick that I’m not very hopeful about finding the glasses. Nope, not there. I see another series of steps. Around the third or fourth steps, there are the glasses. I grab them and return to him. “Here’s your glasses. You’ll be able to make it back down the hill.” “Thanks a bunch, I’ll be okay now. I did have brain surgery last year. Had a shunt put-in. Glad that I didn’t hit my head too hard.” YIKES. I think of our son Dwight, his shunt, and his need to be careful with any head contact.

Some folks have problems before walking. Some folks have problems while walking. I have no idea of all the emotional or relationship problems or employment problems or other problems people carry with them on the path. While a legion of individuals could be working through problems, I don’t get a sense that that is the case. I don’t pick up the signals that many individuals are intentionally walking this path to work through those problems. I’m sure there are some; I’m sure that I’m not clearly meeting many.

Bumps, bruises, and blood. It seems as though people are colliding with the ground or about to collide with the ground all around me. The best that I can do, that others can do, is to replace our desire to get to the next bench, or get to the next seashore snack shop for a drink, or get to the nights lodging. The best thing that I, that we can do, is simply offer a bit of help.