His Way

A poem by Cicely Roy, inspired by 11 walks of 7 to 14 miles of the West Highland Way, completed with her husband, Rajat, who is sadly no longer with us. The final walk celebrated the couple’s ruby wedding anniversary in September 1999.

As many's the slip 'twixt cup and lip

So many the stones the toe to trip;

But surely a modest price to pay

For many a mile traversed each day?

Where coolly the Scottish breezes blow

For ninety miles north the pathways go

With many a bloom beside the track;

The rowan so red and the bramble black.

Down many a shady woodland ride,

O'er heathery moors and pastures wide,

By many a haugh and grassy brae,

When sunny the day or clouds were grey.

Past many a post with thistle sign,

Past cherry and birch, ash oak and pine,

Past many a sheep quite unaware

Of many a beauty gathered there.

Aye, many the views of mountains high,

And many a burn delights the eye;

Though many sad tales in tumbled stone - 

No steading or byre where bees now drone.

How many the times I've heard it said,

"I'll finish that walk before I'm dead!"

So happy the heart - though tired the feet -

His West Highland Way is now complete.