The Glory in Going

I began climbing toward the Old Man of Storr believing the reward would be reaching the end of the trail at the base of the imposing geological formation.

That is usually how we imagine travel. We choose a destination, make our plans, follow the path laid out before us, and picture ourselves standing exactly where we intended to go.

The ancient rock formation towered somewhere on the hills above us, hidden from sight as we started along the trail. This was one of the places I had wanted to experience while visiting the Isle of Skye on my trip to Scotland. I wanted to stand beneath that jagged, towering form, look out across the landscape, and feel the satisfaction of being there.

But before any of that could happen, I had to go.

That sounds simple until you think about how many reasons we can find not to travel.

There is the expense. The planning. The uncertainty. The unfamiliar airports, strange roads, different foods, changing weather, languages we may not understand, and places where we do not know exactly what awaits us.

Travel asks us to leave what is familiar and step into a world we cannot completely control.

Sometimes that can be frightening.

Still, we began walking.

Honestly, we were not quite certain of the exact path or how steep the ascent would become. As we left the car park, the sun peeked from behind white, fluffy clouds while the wind blew in sharp, cold gusts. We joked that at least it was not raining.

The trail was filled with climbers heading both up and down. Around each bend we decided to go one stretch farther, then another, then another. Eventually we began to believe we might make it all the way to the summit.

Then Scotland reminded us that travel rarely cares about our plans.

As we climbed higher, the weather changed dramatically. The sun disappeared behind dark clouds. The wind reached gale-force speeds and whipped at our raincoats. An ordinary Scottish drizzle turned into a torrential downpour, curtains of water soaking us as we climbed.

Then the hail began.

The universe seemed determined to throw everything she had at us.

There I was, thousands of miles from home, climbing the side of a mountain in Scotland while wind, rain, and hail assaulted me.

Travel can be like that.

The photographs we see before we leave rarely show the missed turn, the delayed flight, the pouring rain, the confusing train station, the unfamiliar food, or the moment when we stand somewhere completely foreign and wonder what exactly we have gotten ourselves into.

Those moments are part of the adventure too.

Eventually, the weather became too severe and we made the disappointing decision to turn around before reaching the top.

There would be no triumphant photograph beneath the Old Man of Storr. No sweeping view from the summit of the trail. No proof that I had conquered the climb exactly as I had imagined.

For a moment, I felt disappointed.

But as I began retracing my steps down the mountain, something happened that I could never have planned.

With hail still stinging my side, I looked up.

Sunlight had found the rain.

Before me, stretched against the dark Scottish clouds, was one of the most brilliant rainbows I had ever seen. The colors were impossibly vivid, cutting across the landscape in a scene far more beautiful than anything I had imagined when I started the climb.

I had been so focused on what I expected to find at the end of the trail that I nearly missed what was appearing behind me.

Rainbows require both storm and light. Without the rain, there is nothing for the light to enter. Without the light, the storm remains only a storm. When sunlight passes through the raindrops, it cracks open the light and reveals all those brilliant colors.

Standing there, soaked and cold on the side of a mountain in Scotland, I understood something.

Had I been too afraid to take the trip, none of this would have happened.

I would not have explored this part of the Isle of Skye. I would not have felt the Scottish wind against my face. I would not have struggled up that trail or laughed about the unpredictable weather. I would not have seen that rainbow stretching across the sky.

I would not have known what I had missed.

That may be one of the strangest things about fear. It can convince us to protect ourselves from experiences we have never even had.

We imagine everything that might go wrong. We worry about getting lost, being uncomfortable, traveling alone, navigating an unfamiliar culture, eating in a foreign country, flying across an ocean, or simply being somewhere where we do not know exactly what will happen next.

Those concerns can be real. Travel requires preparation, awareness, and sometimes a healthy amount of caution.

But caution does not have to become a cage.

There is an enormous world beyond the places we already know.

There are mountain trails and ancient cities, quiet villages and crowded markets, oceans we have never crossed and landscapes we have only seen in photographs. There are people whose lives look completely different from ours and others who will remind us how much we have in common.

There are experiences waiting for us that we cannot predict because we have not lived them yet.

Not every trip will unfold perfectly. Sometimes the rain and hail will come. Flights will be delayed. Plans will change. We will take the wrong road or discover that the place we dreamed about looks different than we imagined.

Sometimes we may even have to turn around.

But none of that means we should have stayed home.

The beautiful thing about travel is that the itinerary we planned is only part of the journey. Somewhere between where we begin and where we think we are going, something unexpected often appears.

A conversation.

A view.

A meal.

A person.

A moment.

Or perhaps a rainbow breaking through a Scottish storm.

We cannot know what is waiting for us if fear keeps us from ever starting.

So take the trip.

Prepare carefully. Ask questions. Learn what you need to know. Pack the raincoat. Leave room for plans to change.

And then go.

The world will not always look exactly as you imagined it. Sometimes it will be harder. Sometimes stranger. Sometimes more uncomfortable.

But every once in a while, sunlight will find the rain and reveal something more magnificent than anything you could have planned.

Had I never started that trek, I would have missed the brilliance.

Had I never traveled to Scotland, I would never have known it was there.

Perhaps that is reason enough to be brave enough to go.

Gluten Free Will Travel

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