Here is part 4 of a serialised article recollecting the Camino To COP I was part of in the run up to COP26 in 2021, to inspire us in our endeavours as activists.
The COP26 conference in Glasgow came at a critical time for the world, when commitments were needed to half COz emissions by 2030. It was hoped that the weight of the hopes and dreams represented by patchwork pilgrimage of the Coat of Hopes and Camino2Cop would be a way of encouraging and inspiring world leaders and delegates to do the right thing at the conference.
…It was around this point, about an hour into the march, that I began to regret taking an impromptu trip to local gym the previous day. Ever one to keep myself in trim, and mindful that my fitness for the following day’s walk probably wasn’t up to par compared to many of the others who had been walking almost every day for several weeks, I hit the cross-trainer and then the squat rack particularly hard, something that was extremely satisfying, especially when followed by a lovely hot shower in the changing rooms afterwards.
Freshened and re-energised, I returned to in a much better frame of mind which, to be honest, over the course of 24 hours had become slightly clammy and fetid, housing as it did around 50 dampish walkers, their togs and their clogs.
Later on that evening, however, the combination of my over-zealous gym session, unusual living conditions, and my fibromyalgia began to tell, and a dull yet persistent ache spread over many parts of my body. This wasn’t what was meant to happen, but fibro is an unpredictable and capricious condition. Sometimes exercise helps, other times it makes things worse. This time it was the latter, and the next day’s brisk walking which might have been quite enjoyable, became quite painful, with my body becoming achy and stiff.
Nonetheless, the intensity of the occasion, and the vibrant energy, camaraderie and companionship of the other Camnistas, carried me onward towards Glasgow.
We crossed roads and annoyed cars (although on this occasion the protestors weren’t trying to). We traversed bridges and forded flooded footpaths, where the Clyde had swelled ominously in the autumn rains and burst its banks.
The variety of ways chosen to traverse the flooded, extremely muddy areas were very entertaining to behold. (I chose a hop skip and jump approach.) We sang songs and played instruments.
We stopped on a bridge over the Clyde, stood in a circle, held hands and sang lovely folk songs. We turned cartwheels, and did somersaults. (Actually I made that bit up – just checking that you were paying attention!) Finally, at last, we arrived at our destination on Glasgow Green.
And were hit with a wall of the local, national and international press, the like of which I had never seen, with Cameras, and still more cameras – and flashes, lots of flashes, as we arrived on the Green.
By this time I had somehow made my way to the front of the procession, and in my role as Barbara’s little coat-helper was helping hold up the edge of the coat, so that its full splendour might be revealed to the world’s waiting media…
Joy in Enough 