Get out there and have your adventure today. (Stephen Mason, Ride to the Midnight Sun)
On the morning before I meet Steve, it is raining heavily. I feel confident that he won’t be phased by the weather though. Steve is a true adventurer. Last year, he completed all of Scotland’s 282 Munros (mountains over 3,000 feet). He has been all over the world on his trusty BMW motorbike, Borris. And he has written extensively about his travels. Steve’s books are full of warm and engaging anecdotes and they are philosophical, too. They tell a story of embracing life, seeking out new experiences, and making things happen. He tells me that he is ‘a motor biker who writes, rather than a writer who bikes’. But I don’t know what he is like as a biker and all I can say is that I am enjoying his stories.
The rain obligingly eases off as we set off around the Moss. I am interested to know what Steve feels about this place. Compared to the long, dusty roadways of North America, the unfamiliar territories of Russia and Patagonia, and the mountains of Morocco, I wonder if he sees this bog as too small, too local and too predictable? Steve understands what I am getting at and tells me that on the contrary, he very much appreciates life in Lenzie and sees the Moss as a special place that he will always be able to return to. The thought of returning has helped him through some of the most challenging parts of his trips. When Steve was searched by Russian police and detained when they found a packet of codeine tablets that he had inadvertently brought along from Scotland, he was seriously worried that he might not make it back.
Steve moved to Lenzie 25 years ago after spending most of his life in Ayrshire. He also spent some time working in Silicon Valley but has long since retired from his work in computer manufacture. Like me, Steve didn’t know very much about the town before he decided to move here. The Moss was an extra bonus, and he is thankful to live close to a place that is so well maintained and with such a rich history. Steve often walks and cycles on these pathways.
Unlike some other areas of Glasgow’s greenbelt, Steve feels reasonably confident that the Moss will be protected from development. This is a concern of his though: while Steve understands the importance of building new homes and infrastructure, he is worried about the encroachment onto greenspaces. He lives near Whitegates Park, which has been designated as the site for a huge new school development in the area and a lot of the community are devastated by the loss of a vital parkland at the centre of the town. This has made him value proximity to nature even more.
As we walk down the boardwalk, a slow line of roe deer crosses over the bog beside us. Steve is pleased to see them for the first time. I am becoming quite familiar with these deer through these walks, and they seem to favour this area particularly. I attempt to photograph their passage, but they are a bit too far away for a good image. The photos that I manage to take are apparently of the bog with the line of trees and the top of the hill range in the background. But look closely and you can see a few white tails. The Moss is full of gifts and surprises for those who visit often and look carefully.
Steve tells me about an occasion when he was walking on the Moss with his family and they came across a group placing painted stones along the path. He later added to the collection with his young grandchildren. I mention that I have previously found such stones buried by my house and wonder if they were made by the pupils at the old primary school next door. It turns out that Steve knows my house – his wife’s friend having lived there around 15 years ago. Steve remembers attending a wedding that took place in my garden! I tell him about my walk with Sophie, when I learnt about some other past residents of my house, a couple who lived there many years earlier.
As we look out to the Campsies, I ask Steve about his Munro bagging. For his last climb, he chose Beinn na Lap, by Corrour Station on Rannoch Moor (the highest and most remote main line station in Britain). I climbed the same mountain in 2006 with a friend and remember snowy peaks and thick fog making the route treacherous. For a couple of years, I climbed several Munros and aspired to bag them all one day. Many years have passed since my last one and I have to admit that I have given up on the idea of climbing them all. Steve completed his challenge on a much finer day, and he also walked with his family. On the same day that Steve climbed his final Munro, his 5-year-old grandson managed his first. My own 5-year-old, Ruairidh, enjoys hill walking, but hasn’t yet summitted a whole mountain. Steve inspires me to head up a Munro with Ru one day soon.
Steve talks about the appeal of Munro bagging. He says he is very goal-orientated and he enjoyed keeping a spreadsheet of his climbs, revelling in changing the cells to green each time he completed another peak. I suppose that my Lenzie Moss project is goal-orientated, too. I will reach 100 walks in a couple of years or so, and that will be a good feeling. It is always satisfying to add another post to the blog. Perhaps Bog Blogging could become a new craze.
But I also think that my slow, repetitive circling of the mire offers something counter to the big expeditions that Steve has enjoyed. Lenzie Moss might not be experienced on the same scale as the motorbikes and Munros. But it has deer and stones and views of the hills beyond, and I discover new things each time I share an hour with a new walker. Every time I travel round the Moss, I go on a little adventure.
