The Spreadsheet I Left on the Trail

I'd like to begin with a confession. When I set off to walk part of the Lycian Way last spring, I had a spreadsheet. Every day was mapped out, right down to the cafe where I'd stop for lunch. By the third day, that spreadsheet was in tatters, and I'm rather glad it was. On the second afternoon, the rain came in sideways, and I took shelter in a village I'd never even heard of, where a family insisted I stay for dinner. Rarely have I eaten so well, or so slowly. That evening taught me more than any guidebook could: the trail is less a route than an invitation. There were practical lessons, too. I packed far too much; my rucksack was heavy enough that by day four I'd posted half of it home. As for navigation, the red and white waymarks are easier to follow than I'd feared, though one junction by a stream had me going round in circles for an hour, until a shepherd pointed me in the right direction. Now, don't mistake this for advice to abandon planning altogether. What I'd suggest is planning the first day and the last, and leaving the middle deliberately open. I came home having covered only two thirds of my intended distance, and yet I'd call it the most satisfying trip I've ever taken.