The first days of the third year of the walk

Hi everyone, Silas here. Back for another season of walking to India.

It has been 178 days since I sent the last message in the WhatsApp group that has been the hub of this multi-year walk, and there hasn’t been much on the site here either besides a little vignette on my way out of Istanbul, hence putting my name up top here in case some of you have (quite reasonably) forgotten all about me :D

I guess this is kind of a re-introduction, for me and for you, to the walk to India. Welcome all, to year three!

Some of you know that I’m already back in Turkey and on the move — today was the fifth day of this third year of the walk. Currently I’m somewhere east of İznik, following tractor and goat tracks through rolling hills covered with olive groves and vineyards.

The first couple of days always offer a bit of a shock to the system – that familiar feeling of getting the walking legs back, the weight of the pack settling in. There was a moment on Day 2, reckoning with what felt like new depths of muscular atrophy, where I wondered if the physicality might be too much this year. But thankfully, the body is already adapting, reminding me that getting stronger often just means hurting a little less each day. I even clocked in my first marathon of the year yesterday, which felt good! There’s been plenty of rain, which makes packing up a slow comedy routine, but once I’m moving I love the rain walking.

The biggest shift for me so far hasn’t been physical, though. Some of you know I had a bit of unfinished business with some bridges near Istanbul from last year. I returned having made peace over the winter, ready to let go of those 500 suspended metres. I felt that I had learned the lesson that the bridge was there to teach me… And then I came to another bridge (the Osmangazi), and stubbornly, foolishly, I tried again and, predictably, almost got myself arrested (again!). Initially it was frustrating, but standing there seeing (and then fleeing) the flashing lights again, it finally began to click.

Later that day I met Ibrahim. Standing in his shop chatting and laughing with him, I was able to understand how I was completely missing the point. I had made an “enemy” out of those bridges, allowed my frustration and stubbornness to overshadow my reason for being out here: to connect with people and witness something of the world. And the bridge wasn’t the obstacle in that; I was.

That realisation ties into something I’ve been learning a lot about lately, especially thanks to my time in Canada with Kyle & Avvai – the power (and practice) of being present. It’s the simplest of things, but has been a lifelong struggle for me. When I’m actually here, not lost in thought or worry about bridges or anything else, Turkey (and the world) feels incredibly welcoming. I’m having wonderful, albeit often hilariously mime-filled, conversations with people everywhere – farmers offering biscuits, Imams inviting me to stay at the mosque, kids demanding photos, men sharing tea and earnest questions via Google Translate. Yesterday, I spent time with two farmers, Isfim and Algud, and despite barely sharing a word of language, we understood each other perfectly. Presence, it seems, has a way of dissolving barriers.

It’s making me reflect on old habits too – how often a lack of presence made me a poor listener, or led me down paths of needless concealment. It’s a daily practice, but feeling more present allows for so much more gratitude – for the walk itself, for the incredible kindness of strangers (like the prayer beads an elderly mosalman gifted me and which give thoughtful work to idle hands on a walk like this), for the beauty of these landscapes (even amongst the signs of industry), for a delicious fruit smoothie after a long stretch, for the shelter I have tonight.

So, I’m feeling really positive and powerful in this years walk so far, in a way I’d lost sight of a little in my grief after leaving Albania last year. It feels like I’m finally shedding some old weight (metaphorically, still working on the literal pack weight, and the many pounds I piled on over the winter) and ready to truly see what this part of the journey has to show me.

Hope you are all doing well. Sending warmth and peace from the trail.