It seems a long time ago already – that I packed up my bag to walk from Edinburgh to Croydon. From one home to another. From the city I am proud to now call home, to the south London town I grew up in. Plus, there were a whole host of ‘homes’ (other places I’ve lived in) to pass through on the way down – Galashiels, Manchester, Coventry, Leamington Spa, Guildford. And, since I’ve moved progressively north over the years, each step forward took me further back into a not so easy past.

I thought the Edinburgh-London journey on foot might be like when I cycled from Scotland to Bhutan, except better. I’m older, wiser, and calmer – or so I thought. It turns out I get just as anxious in familiar lands as I can in faraway places. Maybe from knowing a place a little too well. Long distance walking is also really hard. There is less margin for error than with cycling. If there are no spots for stealth camping, or water and food supplies are low, it’s not possible to zip off down the road to the next town or valley. Plus, an extra kilo in the backpack, as opposed to on the bicycle, makes a bigger difference. It was the dull ache of my shoulders, which only grew as the journey progressed, that was my biggest challenge of the 700 mile journey.

Nevertheless, I learnt two important things. The first being how narrow my focus in life used to be. It’s not that I didn’t have access to certain forms of nourishment in the past, its that they were outside of my awareness as sources of enrichment. Take Guildford, for example. When I lived there twenty years ago, I was surprised as I passed through over the summer to find that in order to get from town to university, there was a river that had to be crossed. I had no memory of the river’s existence. It was a joy to trek out of town along that river on this journey, especially with the knowledge that Croydon was just two days walk away. Other examples of things that I hadn’t recognised as important in my past include spaces that allow some escape from the pressure to consume (e.g., community spaces, be they spiritual/religious buildings or community funded hubs), being open to connect with anyone that passes my way, and wholesome nutritious food.

The other important learning was about my life as it is now and that I didn’t need to do this journey. Not like I did with the cycle journey to Bhutan. That catapulted me firmly onto a path of deeper fulfilment and I didn’t for one second miss what was left behind. On this journey, I began to miss what I was leaving behind the moment I stepped out the front door – my wife, my daily rituals, my work, my community… I’ve come a long way to ensuring I’m properly meeting my needs where I am.