Yesterday was my last day of walking Saint Cuthbert’s Way, and the walk across the sands along the pilgrim’s path was amazingly, breathtakingly, utterly stunning! The day started with several kilometers of easy walking along farm fields before arriving at the tracks of the East Coast Rail line where I had to call to make sure there was no train coming (there was, at 100 mph!).

 

After another 2 or 3 km, I reached the causeway to Lindisfarne, which is completely covered by water at the high tide.

I crossed over this bridge, and met several other walkers as I waiting for the ebbing tide to recede further.   When it was time, we all took off our boots to walk the 5 km across the sand, following the line of poles that are interspersed with occassional rescue platforms for anyone caught by a rising tide.  The air and wind were warm and the water was not cold as expected.  The light was stunning! The clouds and the water and the company and the experience all melded together to create such a feeling of happiness that was far beyond what I had expected and hoped for.

Sometimes we were walking in an inch or two of water, and sometimes over sections of sand or very slippery clay-like mud.  The water was always moving, the wind was blowing, and the light would change as the clouds moved in front of or away from the sun.

 

After a while I slowed my pace because I wanted to settle back into solitude, and my companions moved away from me.

I continued on, following along the line of the poles, looking towards the island and out across to Budle Bay and Bamburgh Castle in the far distance, and towards the dunes at the northern edge of Lindisfarne.  I inadvertently frightened a huge flock of sandpipers and they took off and flew in formation away from me and swooped left and right, so fast, until they finally settled again.

I am almost there!  The photo above is the last photo I took looking forward to the island, and the next is a photo looking back towards where I’d begun.  The sky had darkened and rain was advancing quickly!  By the time I reached the shore, the rain was pelting down and I had to quickly pull on my rain jacket and pants and try to get damp socks back on wet sandy feet!

What an experience that crossing was! I was elated! I had just completed Saint Cuthbert’s Way!  I walked the short distance along the road into the village where I immediately sought out my accommodation, The Open Gate, a Christian retreat centre housed in a 15th century building. I took a few quick photos, met the hosts, and treated myself to a hot shower and a cup of tea while warming up in bed!

 

After a little rest, I headed outside to explore.  By now it was late afternoon and the light and sky continued to be changeable.  Here are some photos from around the small village.

 

I walked to the western edge of the village towards the beach and took some photos as I headed up to the Heugh, a whinstone ridge with an elevated position and views over the island and surrounding area.

From further along the Heugh, I got another view towards the priory and Saint Mary’s Church as well as of an active excavation site beside it.

Then, a wonderful view of Lindisfarne castle from atop the Heugh and then from the water’s edge at the end of the harbour pier.

I walked along the edge of the harbour beach where there was a jumble of boats, fishing gear, and storage sheds made from the overturned hulls of old herring fishing boats.

I walked towards the castle, taking photos as I approached.

 

Then I walked around towards the rear of the castle, on the way to visit a walled garden designed in 1911 by the Arts and Crafts garden designer Gertrude Jekyll.  The National Trust maintains the garden with Jekyll’s original planting schemes.  I sat on a bench to rest, thinking how nice it would be to have a walled garden.  I was getting tired, after such a full and exciting day, and was in a quiet, reflective mood.

 

I left the garden and turned to head back to the village. Boom! I heard thunder from across the way and saw dark grey clouds across the fields to my right and over the village.

I picked up my pace but wasn’t quite fast enough! The wind grew stronger and the rain started when I was only half way to the village, which luckily wasn’t too far away! I was wearing my rain jacket so up went my hood and I arrived at my accommodation not too wet. Straight upstairs, straight into bed, and the thunder boomed again and the rain lashed against my single-pained widows. One flash of lightening, more thunder, and the rain turned to hail. This was my view, cozy from my bed.

It was 5 pm. How can so much happen in a day? I started to read a very good novel, found earlier on a sharing shelf in the lounge, and an hour later took it with me to the Ship Inn where I had a light dinner and a pint of cider.  Then home to bed, more reading, and the cider and the wind and the sun and the water and the bare-footed crossing to Lindisfarne all combined to leave me feeling somewhat spent, yet fully replete. It was truly a magnificent last day of my Saint Cuthbert’s Way walk! Goodnight.

 

 

Again, a wonderful breakfast this morning, with the great company of my gracious hosts, and then I was off for my day of walking.  Because I was going to stay in Wooler for a second night, I was able to leave my big bag at Millyard House and wear just my daypack today, which felt very freeing, and I set off with good energy for my 21 km day.

I walked first on a paved road past a school, very aware that back home today was the first day of a new school year.  I felt only a teensy-tiny bit of sadness that I wasn’t there this year, much less than I had thought I would.  It helped that I was here in this beautiful part of the world doing this walk.  The road climbed a hill and soon the way turned left into path along the edge of a field.  I zoomed in to take a photo down towards Wooler and the beginnings of the Cheviot Hills behind it.

Soon I reached a sign saying that I was rising up to Weetwood Moor.  The bracken made room for heather and grasses, with some conifer plantations scattered in the distance.  It had a very different atmosphere compared to yesterday’s moor as the wind was barely a whisper and the air was warm and sleepy.  It was very calm walking along and I only passed one morning walker.

The path continued through a series of sheep fields. These sheep by the gate looked like they were plotting an escape, but as I approached they did what sheep do and followed their instinct to “run away!”.

It was in a further sheep field that I lost my way for the first time on this walk.  Saint Cuthbert’s Way is extremely well signed, and there had only been a few times during my entire walk when I had wondered if I was on the right path (I always was) or felt that I needed to check with my guide book or map.  This morning though I was in a day-dreamy mood and missed a signed turnoff.  I soon realised my error when I reached the end of a sheep field, with no marker on the gate exiting the field, or on the gate at the other side of the field.  So, I retraced my steps to the last marker that I had seen, a matter of only about 15 minutes of walking, and I was back on the right path. Pay attention Christine!

All too soon, the path descended off of the moor to cross a road and then a rather picturesque bridge, dating from the 16th century which was restored in the 18th century and again in 2005.   After the bridge, there was quite a long section of road walking along country lanes up and over the horizon’s edge, with pastoral views all around.

At one point, as I started to grow a little tired of the road walking, I let out a sigh, and that frightened a pheasant out of the hedgerow!  So pretty!  He quickly ducked back out of sight in the thick vegetation but I had seen him and it cheered me immensely.  Then, Saint Cuthbert’s Way finally veered off of the roads and onto a path that bordered a field and a wildflower meadow, where I was cheered again and inspired to take some flower photos, though my old friend the wind was back and making it difficult to focus my camera on the swaying flowers.

 

I walked happily down the path and then saw about ten young pheasants at the edge of the field.  They are timid like sheep and rather than flying away (though one or two did), most of them ran directly away from me for some distance before finally deciding to escape either to the left or the right.  I wished I had my zoom lens with me! (I have some photos of some brown specks but I won’t share them!)

The next excitement of the day was the approach to Saint Cuthbert’s cave, up this road and into the forest beyond it.

For those walkers doing Saint Cuthbert’s Way as a pilgrimage, the cave is a very special place as it is reputed that the monks of Lindisfarne hid here in AD875, during the time of repeated Viking raids, with the body of Saint Cuthbert and other relics from the monastery at Lindisfarne in order to protect them from the invading Danes.  The cave is very atmospheric upon approach, as you can see from the photos below.

But for me, the association with this place is murder (!) – due to an episode of one of my favourite British crime drama series, “Vera” starring the wonderful Brenda Blethyn. In the episode, a body was found, wrapped in black plastic in the back of the cave to the left, and another body was later found buried in front of a large rock on the right.  “Get forensics up here with shovels,” might have been the line delivered by Vera!

All morning I had walked alone, except for one brief hello in the morning to a walker on Weetwood moor. I was quite surprised to be alone at the cave as I had expected that there would be quite a few Saint Cuthbert’s Way walkers about, or local walkers.  But, I had not seen a soul during miles of walking.  As I approached the cave, there was no one about and I was feeling a little creeped out.  What if there was a copy-cat murderer who had loved that episode and was just waiting for me? I very quickly took a few photos, and when I turned to leave I spotted the silhouette of two people at the bottom of the trail, half-hidden in the brush.  My heart skipped a beat! But, of course they were just a polite English couple, out for a walk. We conversed for a few minutes (they had heard about the episode but not seen it so I didn’t feel it was a good idea to describe it to them). Then, another walker came up the trail right after them, with a big pack, and just behind him a group of ramblers. I scooted away quickly, wanting to regain my solitude.

I re-connected with the path, travelled up along the edge of the forest, and saw a rocky outcropping off to the left, on the other side of a stone fence, and also a long narrow hill, completely covered with purple heather and topped with a cairn.

I quickly scampered up to the top of the rocky outcropping to see my first views of Lindisfarne!

And further down the coast I could just make out Bamburgh castle.

While behind me were fields and the start of the Cheviot hills.

After sitting and enjoying the views from the outcropping, I was very eager to also climb up to the top of the heather-covered hill before any of the other walkers arrived so I scampered back down the rocks, climbed the stile over the stone fence, and quickly set off up the narrow beckoning trail towards the cairn at the top of the hill.

The views were wonderful! I sat at the top for a while, happily alone, to rest and soak it all in.  I had walked all the way to here!  It was such a great feeling.  I drank some water, ate a light snack, and decided to air out my boots and change into dry socks.  As I rested, I thought to look at my guidebook and map to estimate the remaining distance and time down to Fenwick. But, something didn’t make sense. My hill wasn’t on Saint Cuthbert’s Way! That was the second time today I was off trail!  Thank goodness I looked at my map because otherwise I would have kept right on going down the other side of that hill to who-knows-where.  It was a easy fix, just head back down the hill and past the rocky outcropping to the edge of the forest.  No wonder none of the other walkers were showing up on my hill! I was a little perturbed to be off-trail twice in one day, but also rather glad that I had made that mistake as otherwise I might not have climbed on the hill.  I got back on the right path, and it descended and rose across fields towards the sea.

 

The path turned and went towards and then into a forestry plantation for a good long while.  I was feeling a little tired, but mostly good striding along, and the forest section reminded me of home.

I noticed from the marker badges that Saint Cuthbert’s Way was now sharing the path with the Northumberland Coast Path and with Saint Oswald’s Way.  And, then I saw a very welcome sign, “Fenwick, 2 miles.” Almost there!

 

The path emerged from the forest and continued past some fields of pink clover.  The sweet smell was wonderful and I picked a few flower heads to nibble on as I walked.

 

Finally the path joined a paved road that descended towards the tiny community of Fenwick, with views across to where I would be walking tomorrow, across the sands to Lindisfarne.   I felt overcome, and started to cry with happy emotion.

 

Bob, my B&B host who had kindly offered to pick me up, arrived at the Fenwick Village Hall only minutes before I did, and he zipped us quickly along the country lanes and into Wooler.  It was yet another wonderful day of walking on Saint Cuthbert’s Way, with a peaceful moor, lovely countryside, a dramatic cave, and my first exciting views of my final destination, the Holy Isle of Lindisfarne.  Goodnight.

 

I am feeling rather blissed out right now, after another fantastic day of walking up in the hills and on a high moor, and also having consumed “just a bit” of sherry here in my lovely bedroom, compliments of my hosts. The expression “be here now” is one that I use to focus my attention on the present when I’m walking in the forest at home and I notice that my planning brain is in full gear (which it usually is – having been a teacher for almost thirty years, and a mom, this part of my brain is very well developed!). On this entire holiday, because everything is so new and exciting, I have had much less trouble being “in the moment” and aware of my self and my surroundings.  I do find though, that my “narrative” brain, and planning brain are on more than I would like due to the writing of this blog. I find myself rehearsing what I will say for certain photos and experiences on the trail.  For this reason, and because it takes quite a bit of evening time, I have been considering abandoning the blog, but I decided that I would just try to be even more mindful of when my narrative and planning brains were turned on, and use “be here now” to get me back to the experience of the moment.  I succeeded fairly well today! It was hard not to, with the wind and the rain and the ever-changing scenery all around me, and I made a point of stopping more to rest and just be.

The first wonderful moment of the day was looking out my window, just after awakening, to see a European robin on the wall of the garden at Hethpool House.  I love them! They are the prettiest birds, and I was so charmed to see one.  The sun was shining and I proceeded downstairs to have yet another delicious breakfast. After packing up, and saying goodbye to my kind hostess, I headed outside to see that the sun had somehow disappeared and it was starting to rain, so I came back in and put on my rain jacket and pants.  I felt good, and ready to walk, and didn’t mind the rain at all.

I retraced my steps from yesterday on Saint Cuthbert’s Way, heading again towards Yeavering Bell.

And I felt very lucky to again see the Cheviot goats!  It looked to be the same group as yesterday, feeding on grasses beyond the bracken. They are quite magnificent looking beasts!

I carried on uphill until the junction with the trail heading up to the top of Yeavering Bell.  I was so tempted to go up to the top, to see the views and the ruins of the Iron Age fort, but I decided to carry on ahead without making the detour. I regretted that decision on and off for a good part of the day before I finally let my disappointment go.  Actually, I feel it again now!

After walking a little further on, and zooming in with my camera, I could see that it was a two-topped hill, and I could also see the remains of rock walls of the perimeter of the fort, a gray line encircling the top of the two hills.

The path ahead though was enticing, and lined with patches of heather and golden grasses that were blowing in the strong wind.  I startled at least twelve grouse out of the heather as I walked along the next kilometre or two.  They complained quite a bit as they flew off!

Soon the trail was just a thin path through the heather, and after cresting the rise I could again see hills in the distance.

When I met two lady hikers coming towards me, I finally remembered to ask someone to take my picture.  Here it is Gaetanne!

I crossed a stile over a fence (always fun for some reason!) and the moorland went on and on. Sometimes more grassy, or a little boggy underfoot, and sometimes with great swaths of heather.  Lines and shapes were created by the path and stone fences and distant hills and clouds.  The wind was constant and brought rain and then whisked it away again, and the light was constantly changing as the clouds moved across the sky.  It was exhilirating!

More photos, as I’m too tired and tipsy to discriminate well!

I met another pair of local walkers, on a particularly windy, rainy stretch, and asked again to have my photo taken. I had to brace myself against the wind!

Finally, after I passed through the gate in the photo below, the weather began to settle.  There were storm clouds ahead, towards the far hills, but where I was walking the sun had managed to break through some of the clouds behind me, and the wind eased up.  The heather disappeared, and then I was walking on a long wide ridge covered in golden grasses.  I did not want it to end!

I could see the beginning of the descent down to Wooler, my final destination.  I sat for a long time on the edge of the path and just enjoyed the moment before beginning to head down, slowly and mindfully, very grateful for the time I had had on the moor.  The descent to Wooler was longer than expected, in a good way, and very pleasant as I again began to pass along farm fields and the edges of woodland and by small valley streams.

The path finally joined a road at the edge of town which descended down to the High Street.  I took a few quick pictures (including of an Austin mini!) before heading into the Co-op to buy an inexpensive but nourishing dinner of banana, milk, and cheese, to be supplemented with left-over bacon and bread from breakfast.

Here are a few scenes from Wooler, the “gateway to the Cheviots”

 

 

I turned and walked down Church Street to arrive at the Mill Yard House Bed and Breakfast. I am so so so spoiled! A lovely home, set in a pretty English garden (I had my dinner on the garden bench), and a beautiful garden-view room complete with a serving of sherry, designer chocolates, and the prettiest furniture.

 

 

Well, at the moment I’m mindful of how late it is getting! I am tired, but comfortable.    Tomorrow is a longer day, 21 km, and will take me to within close sight of Lindisfarne.  Then I will return here for another night as my host will pick me up and bring me back the next morning. So, from my pretty room, after a wonderful day of walking on the windswept moor, here is a second mirror picture to say hello and send peace to everyone I know.  Goodnight.

I woke up to a beautiful sunny day, with bright puffy clouds and only the hint of a gentle breeze, much different than the last several blustery days.  After another excellent Scottish breakfast, I headed up and away from town and I took this photo looking back just as the Sunday church bells were ringing.

The road climbed up a hill, with another morning gift of blackberries in the hedgerows, and then descended towards the start of the trail at the base of the hill ahead.

The trail rose quickly and gave a lovely view back to the way I had come.

The trail continued up on grassy paths, and I felt peaceful and happy and had good energy for climbing.  I looked back to see that a group of hikers behind me on the Pennine Way, and there was a pair of walkers far ahead of me so I wasn’t completely alone today on the trails, which made sense on such a beautiful Sunday.

I climbed up and up, with great views back and all around.  What a place!

Sooner than I wanted, the trail started to descend from the ridge down into a valley where it crossed a fence and then passed through a large logged off area.  I had wondered about whether the conifer plantations were selectively logged, or cut all in one go, and now I had my answer.

The trail continued to descend through some fields into a valley, until it joined a pleasant farm road, with many curious sheep!  At one gate I passed, I saw a Northumberland National Park sign, and was a little surprised and sad to realise that somehow I had missed the wooden marker that indicates the border between Scotland and England.  Oh well, I was now in England!

 

After a peaceful meander down the road and alongside an adjacent stream, I could see landmarks for the start of the College Valley ahead, and my destination at Hethpool, a smattering of cottages on the College Valley Estate.  The road descending south past the cottages is known as the quietest road in England as drivers must buy a permit to drive down the valley, and only ten permits are sold per day.

 

Here is my grand room at Hethpool House Bed and Breakfast, an Edwardian style, Grade II listed house built in 1919.

 

After meeting my hostess, who had kindly allowed me an early check-in, I put away my big bag and filled my small day pack with my lunch, water bottle, map, and my rain jacket.  Just as I headed back out to climb one of the nearby hills, a heavy rain shower started so I decided to add my rain pants to my bag, and to wait for the downpour to stop as I knew it would be short lived.  Sure enough, less than ten minutes later I headed out to bright sunshine to climb the Wester Tor hill.  At 537 meters high, I was looking forward to amazing views of the College Valley and beyond.

I walked along Saint Cuthbert’s Way for a ways to connect to the trail up Easter Tor, and then from there travel along the ridge down to a saddle and then up to Wester Tor.  As I started to climb, there were great views back towards Hethpool and the head of the College Valley.

And towards the east, was the large hill named Yeavering Bell, the top of which is the site of the remains of a large Iron Age hill fort.  And, I had climbed high enough to see the sea!  (Off to the left on the far horizon.) Also, I saw a small herd of wild Cheviot goats! The wild goats are regarded as a good example of a primitive goat that helped sustain people of the British Isles from the times of the earliest Neolithic farmers. They pre-date modern goat breeds and are hardy, living a totally wild existence.

As well as this small herd to the east, there was another group just above me and I followed them up hill, trying to get the perfect photo.  I actually missed the perfect photo of three of them, quite close, all in a row and all looking at me, with their horns clearly visible, the sun shining on their coats, and their beards blowing in the breeze! Darn! But, this photo is not too bad.  They are very skittish!

As I was walking up the hill on the shoulder of Easter Tor, trying to photograph the Cheviot goats, I heard a loud rumble of thunder behind me.  I turned and saw that above the hills on the opposite side of the valley, there were dark thunder clouds with rain showers clearly visible.  The thunder rumbled several more times.  I looked for lightening but couldn’t see any, but then judged by the direction of the wind that those thunderclouds were headed directly towards me!  After another loud rumble of thunder, I decided that it would be prudent to get off of the high ridge and descend towards the shelter of a wood below.

On the way down however, I was distracted by another group of wild goats, this time a group of dark-coated bachelors. They seemed less skittish than the females and kids I had been following earlier, and those horns were quite something so I didn’t feel like trying to get too close!

Suddenly I felt a change in the wind and temperature and I looked behind me to see that the rain cloud had travelled much faster than I had expected and it was almost upon me.  I hastened down the hill quickly, and then started running (carefully!) when the first big drops started to fall.  The sky turned dark, the thunder rumbled, and I made it to the edge of the wood just as the rain started to really pelt down.  I couldn’t enter the wood as there was an electric fence at the edge of it, but at least I was a tiny bit protected by branches above. I quickly donned my rain pants just as the pelting rain turned into hail! I made myself as thin as possible, and then just enjoyed it! Here are views from my small sanctuary during the cloudburst, looking right towards the top of Easter Tor and left towards Yeavering Bell.

Luckily I brought my rain jacket and pants!  I decided to give up on my climb, having already had a full and wonderful day, so I continued on down the hill to reconnect with Saint Cuthbert’s Way.  I love this next image of the sun emerging above the tail end of the thunder cloud, with blue skies behind.

Soon I was walking in the warm sun and the breeze was gently again.  I found a nice place to have a very late and welcome lunch, with pleasant views both distant and close.

I decided to take an alternate trail back to Hethpool, in order to see the Linhope Spout.

And lastly I visited the small lake just behind Hethpool House, with its small summer house. There were a pair of swans with eight cygnets!

I had a brilliant day in the Cheviot hills and beautiful Northumberland National Park. Calm, peaceful, beautiful, inspiring, new, fun, exciting (thunder! rain! hail!), then calm again, and very very satisfying.  Goodnight.

 

 

Today was another wonderful windy day, especially atop Wide Open Hill which marks both the half way point, and the highest elevation reached on Saint Cuthbert’s Way.  It was a short day of walking, only 11 km, and as I entered Kirk Yetholm at the end of that distance at only one o’clock in the afternoon, I wished that I could keep on going to the next destination.  It was such a beautiful day of mixed sun and cloud, with a bit of wind-blow rain, and so much wind on the hilltops I had to fight to keep my balance.  And the views were stunning!

I set off from Morebattle climbing up and away from the town on a paved road.  Here’s a view looking towards Wide Open Hill, zoomed in.

The section of paved road was short and I soon turned onto a field and the path started to zig zag up a hill, and then it climbed straight up the grassy slope steeply.  There were cows directly in my path, and a sign at the bottom had said that mother cows can be unpredictable when they have calves.  Also, the young Dutch hiker that I had met had told me that he had been chased by a bull on this trip, and I had a strong feeling that this was the place!  I surrounded myself with an aura of calm and serenity (that was barely masking fear!) and proceeded at a slow but steady pace past the cows without making eye contact.  Phew! No running away needed!

Here’s a view looking down after I’d climbed higher up the hill.

And here’s a view looking west, and my last sighting of the Eildon Hills, centered on the far-distant horizon, before they were obscured by the fast-moving clouds.

The path continued to climb steeply until it reached this ladder over a stone fence.  From atop the ladder, I took photos of the views to the south and the west, looking back from where I had travelled.

And this is the view to the east, as the path continued up towards the summit of Wide Open Hill.

And here’s the summit. It was so incredibly windy!!

 

After the summit, the path descended steeply until it reached another ladder over another fence, and after that it began to climb again, up towards the top of Crookedshanks Hill.

After crossing Crookedshanks Hill, the path carried on along the ridge, the views pulling me forward and the wind trying to knock me sideways!

I didn’t want it to end! Sooner than I wanted, I was starting the last descent off of the ridge, onto a steep farm track, and finally onto a paved road, still with lovely views in every direction, until I arrived at Town Yetholm.

 

Walking into Town Yetholm, I came across the my first thatched cottage on this trip, and then in Kirk Yetholm, a half mile further on, there was another, with a red telephone booth beside it!

 

It was too early to check in to my accommodation, so I visited the Kirk Yetholm church, had my lunch on the grassy village green, and then spent some time in the Borders Hotel chatting with some other walkers and enjoying a cola and some fries while I got caught up on email and started on my blog for yesterday’s walk.  The hotel bar was crowded with walkers as Kirk Yetholm is also the terminus for the very popular Pennine Way.

 

After my afternoon at the Border Hotel, I walked the short distance to the Mill House bed and breakfast (so nice!), where I relaxed in the lovely room, skyped with Daniel, and did some reading and blogging.

I’m so looking forward to tomorrow’s walk to the beautiful College Valley, with more hill climbing, and hopefully more of that wind! Sadly, I’ll have to say goodbye to Scotland as I cross the border into England, but I’ll also happily say hello to Northumberland.  Goodnight from the Borders!

 

 

I woke up in Jedburgh to the sound of a steady rain outside.  I lingered over breakfast and my packing, hoping it would start to let up, and then I decided to call a taxi to take me to the point where I had left Saint Cuthbert’s Way to join the Border Abbeys Way into town.   That would eliminate three kilometers of uphill road walking, but would not be a “cheat” as I would not miss any of Saint Cuthbert’s Way.  The taxi driver said that she gets “Americans and Australians” who ask her to drive them further along the Way, and they say, “You won’t tell anyone will you?” She laughed and said to me, “I tell them who would I tell? I don’t know anyone in [America or Australia]!”

All kitted up with my rain gear on, and happy to be walking, I regained Dere Street for a short uphill  section before the path turned into a wood with views of the nearby fields.

The path alternated between stretches in woods and stretches along fields as I turned left and right and left and right, heading generally uphill in an easterly direction.

 

I crossed a stream over a solid wooden bridge, feeling gratitude for the people who created and maintain this wonderful trail, and then I followed a curving path up an exposed hill with the rain now being driven sideways into me by the blustery wind and the clouds scuttling quickly past the top of the hill.

 

Some of the wooded paths went through conifer plantations, mostly of pine, with lots of bracken ferns as the understory.

 

I walked up along the edge of this newly ploughed field and watched two tractors working on the opposite side of the field.  Besides these two farmers, I did not see one person for the entire 12 km walk, until I began to arrive into the town of Morebattle, the site of my accommodation for the night.

I climbed up over a stone fence, and then followed the trail along the fence, waist-deep in tall wet grasses and nettles, towards a distant plantation that had a somewhat spooky air about it, in a Hans Christian Anderson sort of way.

 

But, the trail veered left instead of entering the wood, and carried on down a farm track and past beautiful fields with some now far-reaching views.  It was approaching noon and the sky had finally started to lighten and brighten, thanks to the heroic efforts of the sun.

This view, below, across a beautiful field features Cessford Castle (a little indistinct) in the center of the photo.

The farm track descended to a paved road which which turned and then rose uphill in the direction of the castle which was built in the mid 15th century by the Ker family.  Only 8 miles from the English border, it was built with defence in mind and some of the walls are nearly 4 meters thick! The castle was besieged several times in the 1500s, and then abandoned in 1607.  Here are some photos I took as I walked up to the castle and then circled around it.

Unfortunately, these photos do not give any clue as to the strong, blustery and invigorating wind that was blowing atop the castle hill!  I loved this old oak tree, which added to the drama of the scene, and I decided to name it The Cessford Oak.

This is my favourite photo of the day I think, of a field just below Cessford Castle and of the distant hills.

I said good bye to the castle behind me, and followed the road downhill.

 

Finally, after several kilometers of pleasant road walking I reached Morebattle, a very pretty town with a charming primary school.

 

And here’s my accommodation, the Temple Hall Inn, where I received a warm reception (that included a free half pint!) and a cozy room with a lovely view of the hills I would be walking in the next day.  Till tomorrow then!

 

 

I arrived in Jedburgh yesterday evening fatigued and with aching feet, but I was excited to arrive at my lovely accommodation on Old Bridge Road in the center of the historic old town.  Here is the “old bridge” over Jed Water, and just on the other side of it is my small apartment!

 

And here is the interior, a comfortable place to relax, spread out, drink tea, cook a meal, and wash my clothes!

 

After a restful night, I woke up to some morning rain which provided a good excuse to linger over breakfast.  The blustery wind soon blew the clouds away, at least for a few hours, giving me a chance to visit a few sights in Jedburgh.  Just across the river was the Mary Queen of Scots Visitor Center, located in a 16th century tower house typical of the Borders region.  It is believed that Mary lodged here during her visit to Jedburgh in 1566.

I enjoyed viewing the rooms and displays that chronicled the tumultuous life and times of Mary Queen of Scots, and I am always keen to learn more about her. When the rain started up again in the afternoon, I spent some time at my apartment reading more about the relationship between Mary and her cousin Queen Elizabeth I and about the letters they exchanged over their long association as rival queens.

 

After visiting the museum, I made my way to the high street where I took a few photos on my way to Jedburgh Abbey.

 

Jedburgh Abbey is the most complete of the four Border Abbeys, all of which suffered multiple attacks and destruction by the English over the centuries.  It was founded in around 1138 by King David the First of Scotland.  He founded many abbeys in the region, including Melrose and Dryburgh, both for religious and political purposes.  By creating magnificent abbeys so close to the English border, he was making a statement of his power and claim to the land.  There was an excellent audio guide that provided so much interesting and well-presented information about the creation of the abbey, its architectural, social, and political changes over time, and the life of the Augustinian canons who worked, worshiped, and lived there. The abbey is stunning!

Here are some other images from the ruins of Jedburgh Abbey.

 

And also some close ups of the intricate stone carvings. So much devotion to a task!

 

After visiting the Abbey, I walked up to the top of the high street for a quick photo of the castle, as well as one of the high street and distant hills taken from in front of the castle gate.  The rain was starting and I was ready to return to my comfortable little apartment for some more rest and relaxation before resuming my walk tomorrow morning, up and over those hills beyond the town.

Goodnight from historic Jedburgh.

 

I had a magnificent walk today from St. Boswells to Jedburgh, with the blustery wind my constant companion, the most stunning scenery along an ancient Roman road, and blissful solitude.

I left my accommodations at St. Boswell’s early and stopped a few blocks up the High Street to have coffee and carrot cake for breakfast at this somewhat famous Borders book shop and cafe that hosts many top authors.

After my quick breakfast, I only had to walk several blocks through town to reach this lane, and then turn down a drive to a golf course that bordered the river.

I walked along the edge of the golf course, enjoying the early morning quiet, the cool air, and the fresh wind that scattered the first of the yellow leaves about.  When the golf course ended, the trail was once again right beside the river.  I am so impressed by the routing of this trail!

The trail followed the river for a good long way and it was so peaceful to hear only the river, birds, and the sound of the wind through the leaves in the trees.  There were several lone fishermen spaced along the river, enjoying their morning meditation of casting and pulling, casting and pulling.  After a while, I finally encountered three of my brethren, fellow Saint Cuthbert’s Way walkers, who overtook me, but we were all intent on the start of the day and we didn’t say much more than a hello.

The trail passed by an old mill on the opposite bank, and then under a pretty bridge.

And then the trail carried on for another kilometer or so along the river’s edge until it finally turned away from the Tweed at this beautiful spot to climb steeply up the bank to the village of Maxton.

I felt sad to leave the river, but was also very grateful that so much of the trail had followed its banks yesterday and today.  From here, the river will continue to flow eastwards to enter the North Sea at Berwick-upon-Tweed.  I won’t visit it there on this trip, but perhaps on another as I now have a great fondness for this river!

The church at Maxton, just above the river, is dedicated to St. Cuthbert.  There is reputed to have been a place of worship in continuous use on this site for almost 1000 years.  From the church, there began a section of road walking along several quiet country lanes lined with hedgerows, with occasional patches of blackberries that provided a reason to stop for a few moments.  Tiny bursts of flavour, nutrition, and happiness!

The roads rose and fell, providing ever-changing views.  I love this image of a wheat field, with the Eildon Hills far in the background and a beautiful sky.

I love this kind of landscape! There are so many curves and lines and shapes formed by the fields and hills and trees. And, I love how you can see so far in the distance – it  gives such a feeling of possibility.

Then I turned onto Dere Street which follows on the path of the Roman road, built around the year 80 AD, that travelled north in a straight line from York to Edinburgh.  At first, the trail on Dere Street went through a wood, but then it opened up and travelled between farm fields, up and over long hills, with meadow grasses and great oaks and beeches and ash trees scattered along the path. It was so beautiful it made me dizzy with happiness.  And the wind was blowing constantly, bending and waving the meadow grasses and leaves and moving the clouds overhead.

Here are a few photos from my wonderful walk along Dere Street.

And three more because the beauty just kept going on and on! I had not passed one person since I left the river.  All of this was just for me.

Eventually, the path left Dere Street and entered a somewhat dreary and dark wood, approaching Harestanes (though I did spot two grouse!).  A bit off-trail, it was where I had planned to buy my lunch.  But, by now my feet were starting to feel sore, and without the excitement of the views of Dere Street my pack started to feel rather heavy.  I was hungry, but I didn’t feel like proceeding to Harestanes and having to backtrack again to Saint Cuthbert’s Way.  It wasn’t a long distance, maybe around two kilometers, but Brent knows how I hate to backtrack!

So, I decided to skip lunch and I found a spot to have a brief rest, take off my boots, drink some water and eat a handful of nuts.  Somewhat restored, I retraced my steps and was soon out of the dreary wood and onto a path that led to my third pedestrian suspension bridge of this trip, this one over the pretty Teviot river.

The trail followed the river downstream, with a beautiful field of ripe barley on my right.  (The lady walker in Melrose had mis-identified wheat as barley.)

I plucked a stalk and munched on the seeds as I walked.  It was quite a day of wild eating, with blackberries, wild raspberries, wheat and barley seeds, and tangy sorrel leaves all found alongside the trail.

After leaving the river and crossing a main road, the trail regained Dere Street for a long steep section.  I was excited and somewhat relieved to finally reach the sign indicating the turn off into Jedburgh along Border Abbeys Way, and I took one more photo from there of the Eildons, barely visible near the center of the photo because they were now so far away.  I had walked from all the way from there to here!

But my excitement was rather short-lived as the trail down to Jedburgh very quickly joined a paved road which went on and on much longer than I expected it to.  My feet were extremely unhappy (though my knees did well thankfully), and I just about limped into my accommodation.  Almost 20 km with my pack, and close to seven hours of steady walking!

What a day! A Roman road.  Solitude.  The wonderful wind.  Time to think and space to breath, and treasures on the trail.

Goodnight.

 

I said goodbye to Melrose this morning and headed up past the High Street and onto Saint Cuthbert’s Way.  I was a little disappointed that there was no one nearby to take a picture of me at the start of my walk, but that was a small thing, soon forgotten as I began to climb.

 

It was another beautiful day, with some early morning mist, and I turned to take my last photo of Melrose below.

I climbed slowly but steadily towards the saddle between the hills.

 

And reached it sooner than expected – easy peasy!

I headed down the other side and was soon descending gently through a lovely shaded woodland.

I enjoyed the quiet of the walk, with not another soul in sight from the moment I left Melrose until I exited the woodland at a pretty meadow at the edge of the small village of Bowden.  I exchanged cheery calls of “good morning” with two dog walkers, and snapped a few photos of Bowden as I passed through.

 

Then, I was alone again on paths beside farmers’ fields and then through another woodland as I walked along the Bowden Burn.

 

I emerged on a paved road where a break through the hedgerows provided a look back at the Eildons from which I had come.

After the section of paved road, I soon arrived to the edge of the town of St. Boswells. So quick! Luckily, after crossing a main road and walking along just a few streets, Saint Cuthbert’s Way once more became a wooded trail which followed another burn down to the River Tweed.

There was a pedestrian bridge over the river, and I took pictures from the middle of the bridge both upstream (featuring the requisite salmon fisherman) and downstream.  I stayed for a while and looked for salmon in the water but I was not lucky enough to spot any.

Soon after crossing the bridge I arrived at the ruins of Dryburgh Abbey.  At first I was disappointed to learn that there was no audio guide as I had planned for this to be a big learning visit.  But, after a brief rest on a sunny bench where I aired out my feet and boots, and had my lunch, I was ready to just enjoy and appreciate the serenity of the ruins and the beautiful grounds.

Dryburgh Abbey was established in 1150 by Augustinian monks. It was the smallest of the four Borders abbeys, and like the others it suffered greatly over history from British attacks, particularly in 1385 by Edward II (the Scourge of the Scots), and in 1385 by Richard II.  It was again attacked, and finally abandoned in 1544.

In 1786, the Earl of Buchan purchased the abbey ruins and transformed them into a place of romance and beauty that was so well-loved by Sir Walter Scott that he chose to be buried here.  Here are some images from the beautiful ruins of Dryburgh Abbey.

 

The grounds were also beautiful, with lawns, meadows, seating areas, a mature arboretum of trees, and a path down to the Tweed where I saw an otter swim from one side of the river to the other and back again!

 

I became enamoured of the seeds of the beech tree which are spiky and rather dull on the tree, but when dry and open they are beautiful!  The outer cover opens in four parts to resemble the petals of a flower and the two seeds inside rise up like stamens and have three smooth sides that dip inwards. Beautifully geometric and symmetric and lovely to the touch!

I also enjoyed photographing the fanciful seeds of the lime tree, and the flowers and flower heads of Queen Anne’s lace that dominated the meadow grasses.

 

Here is a photo of the Dryburgh Abbey Hotel, adjacent to the Abbey grounds.  Quite posh! I had originally made a booking here, but decided to stay in St. Boswells’s instead in order to have a shorter second day of walking  (19.5 km) to Jedburgh.

So, after several peaceful hours at Dryburgh Abbey, I made my way back to the pedestrian bridge and crossed it over the Tweed to regain St. Cuthbert’s Way.  I was happy to find that the trail progressed again for some distance alongside the river, with increasingly beautiful views as I walked along in the late afternoon sun.

The trail crossed another burn, and then climbed steeply up to the town.  I emerged very near the village green, with my accommodation, the Buccleugh Inn (pronounced buck-loo I finally learned!) just across the road.

 

A lovely inn, and best of all there was a bathtub!  A wonderful opportunity to get clean horizontally!

Now, I’m in the restaurant having finished the first really nice dinner of my trip. (My breakfasts have been so huge that I’ve been keeping the bacon and toast and jam for lunches and have still not been very hungry at dinner time.  Last night my “dinner”, bought at the Melrose Co-op, cost me 62 pence! 10 pence for a banana (potassium) and 52 pence for a pint of milk (calcium for my bones, protein for my muscles, B vitamins for my brain)).  It’s a bit of a feast tonight though – a small sirloin steak on salad, with yam fries and a delicious cider called Aspalls. I’ll keep my eyes open for that one again!

Well, a longer day of walking is ahead of me tomorrow, and the forecast is calling for  rain so I had better start getting ready for bed.  I had a wonderful first day of walking on Saint Cuthbert’s Way and visit to peaceful Dryburgh Abbey.  Thank you for joining me on the journey.  Goodnight!

 

Yesterday evening, after blogging, I was looking again at the Melrose area walking map and I noticed that I could arrive at Dryburgh Abbey by way of the Border Abbeys Way instead of St. Cuthbert’s Way.  That route was several kilometers shorter, and skirted around behind the Eildon North Hill instead of  climbing up and over the saddle. Hmmm, I thought, I could go that way. Easier, and no one would be the wiser!  I was sorely tempted with the idea, both last night and again momentarily this morning, but I also knew that if I went that way it would likely be the first compromise of many.

There is a wonderful young English woman online named Abbie Barnes who has become a bit of an inspiration to me.  She is a long-distance walker and a lover of nature and wild places, and she uses her walking as a way to help herself deal with some mental health issues of anxiety and depression.  She has a beautiful smile and a great manner (and accent!) and she is so personable and easy to watch.  She creates videos of her walks, and provides advice on how to to gain health benefits from walking and being in nature.

She is an inspiration to me because of her earnestness, generous spirit, and basic goodness, but also because she can walk well over 20 miles daily, and she camps too!  Now, I know that the 20 plus miles a day is beyond my knees and feet, and I’m quite happy with my comfortable bed and breakfasts (though I feel I could camp).  But, if Abbie can do what she does, then I can darn well start as I mean to go on and do the entire Way as planned, even if feeling challenged.  Abbies’ words of wisdom that really resonated with me are, “It takes a brave heart and a courageous soul to commit to the unknown.  Now all you have to do is decide that you want it more than you’re afraid of it.”  

I  highly recommend watching the first two minutes of her video “Learning to Thrive, 100 Miles Along the West Highland Way” to hear that quote and to get a great introduction to who she is and what she is about – even if you’re not all that interested in walking!

Now, on the subject of young and inspiring long-distance walkers, yesterday I spoke for a while with a handsome young Dutch man who I met on the way down from the Eildons.  He couldn’t have been more than 21 or 22, was tall and very slim with long legs and a loping walk – super friendly and with a great smile. He is doing a 470 mile walk, the Scottish National Trail (not all in one go!). On this holiday he is going from Kirk Yetholm in the Borders to Loch Ness (he has already done the West Highland Way section).  The Scottish National Trail terminates at Cape Wrath, an isolated, wild, and truly stunning place (take a look on google images!).  The young man carries his camping gear, like Abbie, and he was just so positive and enthusiastic.  I can imagine how proud and ecstatic he will feel at the culmination of his journey when he stands at the edge of Cape Wrath, overlooking the wild North Atlantic.  It was such a pleasure, and an inspiration, to meet him.