Day One on St Cuthberts Way.
I got the first bus to Melrose from the campsite with the intention to leave Melrose at 6.30. I like an early start, the sun was shining and I was excited. This was the longest walk I had attempted but thankfully I was walking back to my campsite and had left most of the contents of my backpack there.
After a pleasant bus journey on an almost empty bus I got off in the Town Centre. Of course nothing was open at that time of the morning so after taking a few photos at the Abbey I set off to find the steep climb which I knew awaited me.
The route up over the Eildon Hills starts using an almost hidden passage beside some bins before a long flight of wooden steps. I stopped to get my poles sorted because I knew there was no way I could do this day without them. I was right!
I stopped several times on the way up to look at the views. I would like to say they took my breath away but that was probably just as much the effort of climbing the hill. Taking photos is always a good excuse to rest.
It was with a great sense of relief I made it to the top, not to the top of highest of the three hills thankfully. The trail crosses between the two highest peaks. I can remember thinking that St Cuthbert didn’t come this way if he was travelling somewhere unless he wanted to take in the views. They were worth every bit of the the climb though.
Then it was downhill through beautiful woodland and lovely wooded valleys towards the River Tweed. I met some local walkers at the bottom who stopped for a chat as we negotiated a gate. As I walked on aIongside the Bowden Burn it was almost completely dry
Just before I got to Newtown St Boswells it was great to look back and be so suprised to see the Eildon Hills in the distance and think – I’ve just been there.
It was just a short walk through the town and then downhill through woodland to the River Tweed. It was time for a break and I came across a handy seat with a view do die for – well I think so anyway. I was able to take my boots off and rest and have a snack.
There seemed to be a lot of minor ups and downs along the river but it was cool under the trees and there was the ever present sound of the river. My second conversation of the day was a man from Sunderland walking his dog. To be fair he had moved up to the local town.
I stopped for a more extended break at a cafe in St Boswells then it was back down to the river again skirting the edge of a golf course then through some pastures thankfully without cows.
I passed the Mertoun Bridge which made me think of my Great Grandfather who was born in the Parish of Mertoun. This was the first of several times when I wished I had more time to wander around and visit places associated with my ancestors but on this occasion I was a man with a mission.
I passed Maxton Church but again did not stop. My next waypoint was joining Dere Street after a stretch of road walking.
Dere Street was a section of the road built by the Romans. I had pictured in my head roman roads wide enough for carts and for soldiers to march six abrest. Sadly over the intevening years it has degenerated into a rough footpath with loads of tree roots to trip the unwary. Nevertheless it made for another change of pace and scenery.
This was the last section too before I could branch off the trail to return to my campsite. I couldn’t wait. I was hot and at the limit of my strength. The last couple of kilometres are always the worst. I remember grabbing an ice cream and coke at the camp shop and then I was flat out beside my tent for a while.