July 28, Dryburgh to Kelso

Since I had walked from Melrose to Dryburgh yesterday, I needed a taxi to take me to Dryburgh so that I could complete the last fifteen or so miles to Kelso. I did not sleep well at all last night due to excessive worrying that the taxi might not show up at 5:30 a.m.  It did.  At 5:50, we reached  Dryburgh Abbey and I was ready to get going.  But there was a problem.  A big one.  One might even call it a crisis!  Access to the path was blocked by a locked gate because the abbey does not open until 9:30.  I could not believe it.

I uttered a number of expletives.

I scaled the wall.

Then there was the worry;  what if I cannot get out at the other end? Fortunately, I could. (I cannot believe I scaled the wall!)  

After a bit, there was a choice:  Go the strict BAW along the edge of the barley field:

Or go crazy and walk along the river, after checking the map carefully, of course, to make sure that the river route connected with the barley route farther on.  It did

The price you pay for this is listening to the voice telling you every 30 seconds, "The route is 110 feet to your left.  You are not on the route.  The route is 120 feet to your left..."  Of course, I could stop the navigation, but these apps are so temperamental, that if you fool around with them you can mess things up.

The thing about today's walk is that it was excruciatingly boring.  90% was on "quiet, country roads," code for asphalt.  

I so think that a lot of my training is for situations such as this:  being able to deal with long periods of tedium.  Also, it was rainy, and muggy, and not rainy but still muggy.  Whileplodding along, I was so so relieved that I had decided to do that circular walk yesterday because— I don't know if I could have tolerated another five miles—and those first five miles were the hardest.

View of the day.

At last, Kelso!  First introduction to the town was the racecourse.  Then there is a golf course.  There is a building that houses curling, ice skating, roller skating, and some other kind of skating, I think.  This is a prosperous town, and probably the biggest one I have been in so far.

You remember that 60+ year old woman hiking the Appalachian Trail a few years ago who stepped off the trail to pee, got disoriented and ended up dying becaue she could not find her way back to the path?  Well here is a story about a hiker that is pretty freaky....only it has a better outcome.

I am staying at a place called The Old Priory (built in 1796) , in a big, old fashioned, gracious room, lovely woods and fabrics and draperies a nd rugs, all maybe overdone but just marvelous, and  there is a gorgeous garden, and I totally love it!

July 27, Melrose to Dryburgh round trip

 The stage from Melrose to Kelso—we are now on the Borders Abbeys Way, and in Scotland, although Eyemouth is in Scotland, too—is close to twenty miles (depending on which source you get your mileage from), and that seemed like too much.  It is not supposed to be difficult, but still.  Since I had an extra day in Melrose, I decided that I would walk to Dryburgh, about 4 1/2 miles distant along the route and either take the bus back or walk back.  Then I came up with a super good plan!  Take the St. Cuthbert's Way route to Dryburgh and the BAW back to Melrose.  In brief, the "out" was way more fabulous than the "back."

The sun was shining brightly before 6:00 a.m.  The colour was not like this,  but I guess this is the effect the suns gives when you try to take its picture:

Can see the cows! (Don't forget to enlarge.)

The first thing I noticed was how easy it was to breathe.  The air, OMG, the air was so cool, and clear and not humid.  It felt so good!!  And thank goodness because.....

Hills, man, were there hills, the Eildon Hills

Fortunately the severest elevations were at the beginning of the walk when you can give it all ya got.  Not only were there long, steep climbs, there were stairs.  The first staircase to heaven was 133 steps, followed by 95 down followed by 64 up and then I stopped counting and making notes  But it was so so gorgeous!

The staircases had benches about every fifty steps!

(I did not use them.)

More heather is beginning to show:

A florette of mushrooms (if there is such a thing):

St. Cuthbert's Way and the Borders Abbey Way are sometimes one and the same.

which, for some reason, makes me think of the song from Oklahoma, "Oh, the farmer and the cowman should be friends..."

The Abbey at Dryburgh was not open when I arrived and I did not feel like waiting 45 minutes, so I headed back.  The Borders Abbey Way route was nowhere near as pleasant as the St. Cuthbert's  Melrose—Dryburgh had been.  A fair amount was on asphalt, which is so so tedious, but it was a lot shorter.

I passed a cake shop:

And an ad for a polar spa:

That sounds like the worst thing ever!  But I suppose if you have an injury or something, the cold might be therapeutic.  In my world, the words polar and spa simply do not belong in the same sentence. Marjorie, not for your party even if you beg!

After returning to the hotel and changing to sneakers, and having a raspberry ice cream, I visited the gardens in town:

Apples working on getting big:

And there were flowers:

The gardens were nice, just not super impressive.  They did, however, afford a good spot from which to take a picture of Melrose Abbey:

July 26, Melrose

 I had booked a taxi to take me to Melrose—could I have taken a bus?  Yes, but I did not want to schlep with my back pack and a suitcase on a bus, so I opted for comfort—worth every pence.  The taxi driver was very nice but drove too fast, just like the other taxi driver.  Because he showed up 25 minutes early due to a miscommunication (actually, a non-communication), I was worried that I would get to the hotel before the doors were unlocked and would be standing outside in the rain, which would be most unpleasant.  However, maybe because I had been such a pest about the whole thing, the door to the hotel was left slightly ajar, so I went in; no one was there; I hunted for a bathroom, found one, used it, came back to the front desk and a few minutes later the receptionist showed up.  It all worked out perfectly except for the rain.  It was raining—but not too heavily!

Off I went to Abbotsford, home of Sir Walter Scott.  It was a lovely riverside walk.

This is not the riverside, it is Eyemouth Beach at 6:15 a.m. (I had time for a walk before the taxi came.)  Prizes it won't win even at its best:

This is a section the riverside walk path:

And this is the river Tweed with one of its residents:

The bottom of the bottom sign reads, "Walk your way to health and happiness:

Who might this fellow, near the entrance ot Abbotsbury, be:

Why, it isTam Purdie.  This is the story:

"In 1804, the 37-year-old Tam Purdie was caught poaching on Scott’s land at his former Borders’ home of Ashestiel, near Selkirk, poaching back then being an extremely serious offence. Scott himself had been appointed Sheriff Depute in the County of Selkirk in 1796. Purdie pleaded his case, citing his impoverished circumstances and duty towards his family as motivation for his crime. “Work is scarce and game plentiful,” he protested, adding slyly that he had merely “girned a hare or twa to prevent them from doin’ ony mischief,” a risky strategy in a court of law …

But these pleadings worked in Tam Purdie’s favour, and he escaped the charges, though on the condition that he work for Scott. He began as a shepherd, and, given more and more responsibility, eventually became Scott’s personal assistant, an eclectic mix of gamekeeper, forester and librarian when Scott eventually moved to Abbotsford. Indeed, in 1812, Scott invited Purdie and his family to come to stay in his household.

For the rest of his days, Purdie and Scott became almost inseparable. Scott was deeply affected by the death of his trusted companion in 1829 when Purdie was sixty-two years old. A stone sculpture of Tam Purdie stands at the entrance to the Abbotsford Gardens overlooking the river Tweed, and he has the honour of being laid to rest in Melrose Abbey."

Even though I had purchased a ticket on line, I still had to get "processed" at the Visitors' Centre before gaining entry to the house. It took the woman at the ticket counter about twenty minutes to do this.  

If you are interested in Abbotsford or in Walter Scott, click on that link and you will get a good tour and see excellent photos.  

Here are a few  of my takeaways from me:

Impressive library:

Many many many books.

Some beautiful windows:

In fact, it was surprising to see so many large windows and so much light.  Most were not stained glass, but there were two beauties.

Trivia:  Abbotsford was the first home in Scotland to have gas lighting (so they say).  

There was an armoury containing many arms. This cabinet was of interest because of the crucifix among the weapons:

Cardinal John Newman (now a Saint, apparently) a great lover of Sir Walter Scott's work, gifted some vestments to Scott's great granddaughter 

Do not confuse Cardinal Newman with Isidore Newman of New Orleans (as I did until enlightened) who founded the school where Alex Allain and Michal Kern met and became life-long friends!  And if you are interested in Cardinal Newman you might want to take a look at Seven Facts you never Knew aoubt him  And if you are interested in Isidore Newman you can read about him here.

A tiny picture in a huge frame:

There were gardens.  Some not too impressive

                                        

Some with a whole bunch of different varieties of flowers but all in large rectangular beds so the garden feeling, if you know what I mean, was absent.

Sightseeing over, I stopped in at the cafe where for $5.34 I bought a dixie-cup size ice cream which was so freezer burned that it met its fate in the garbage.

The walk back was one of those put-the-rain-gear-on-take-the-rain-gear-off sort of affairs, rather tedious, but when I arrived vack in Melrose, I could check in at the hotel into a huge room, so I doffed the boots, put on my sneakers and headed for the Co-op to buy supplies for dinner.  I have a whole new approach!  Instead of "This is what I want," I focus on "This is what they have," and make it work!  Usually it works!

Melrose is an upscale Scottish Boarder town.  Quite pleasant.

July 25, Eyemouth but not to Berrick

I was really looking forward to  walking the Berwickshire Coast Path from from Eyemouth to "Berrick" today.  But it was not to be!  When I started out it was windy and the wind got worse; in fact it got very very bad.  I could barely move against it.  "This is crazy," I thought.  I checked the wind velocity for Eyemouth and it was 39 mph, only I was up on cliffs, so it might have been higher than that (see safety tip #1 below).  Do instruct yourself on Google's take of walking in high winds: see just below.  I couldn't say it better!

Walking in a 40 mph wind is arduous, affects your balance, and can make steady movement very difficult. Gusts at this speed can easily push you off course or off your feet, making it a hazardous situation. 

What It Feels Like

• High resistance: You must lean forward or into the wind just to move forward.
• Unsteady steps: Your feet may not land where you intend, and walking straight requires a lot of extra effort.
• Debris hazard: Small twigs, dust, and grit blown by the wind can sting your face and eyes.

Safety Tips

• Avoid open spaces: Stay away from exposed hill ridges, cliffs, and tall buildings where gusts are stronger.
• Watch out for trees: High winds break branches easily, so avoid walking under large trees.
• Lower your center of gravity: Take shorter steps, use walking poles for support, and crouch down slightly if a heavy gust hits.

Before proceeding with the wind factor, we have to look at another weather issue:  the clouds.

Sun and clouds were in competition:

If you get my drift:

There was a golf course to traverse:

I just love that warning because I would love to know how one can actually beware of a golf ball that would knock them unconscious if it hit them in the head. I thought that was one thing I did NOT have to worry about because no one is going to be on the 14th tee at 6:00 a.m. And besides, who would be crazy enough to play in this horrendous wind? 

There was a wide red line painted around the periphery of the course. 

I will stay on the INSIDE of that line whether I am trespassing or not lest I be blown into the North Sea:

To be fair, the path, so far, was safe from the edge of the cliff, but I said to myself, "If I get to a place where it is scary, I will turn around.  Of course, I did get to a place that was scary (way too steep and too narrow) and I looked up to see a large, dark grey, low-hanging cloud.  This is definitely a message from God!!  Since I was utterly exhausted after only about two hours, and could barely stand against the wind, I decided to head back.  It was disappointing, but I knew I could not manage the distance and the hazards of cliff walking. under those conditions.

The excursion, short as it was....maybe three and a half hours left me utterly exhausted, more than any other challenge so far.  So I went to the famous gelato shop in Eyemouth and had a cone.  I was only sorry I did not order two scoops; it was that delicious.

Then I decided to drag myself on a different walk, which, for the most part was poorly designed, but it did pass through the harbour, where I had wanted to walk, anyway.  

You are posing so nicely!

Fishing traps:

There was a museum in town, so I went.  It had good displays and explanations of some ordinary items that people used to use in farm communities, such as the forging of horse shoes, and what is involved in making a wagon wheel, and barrels, and millstones, fishing nets and lines, and other implements.  I hd no idea a bellows for  a forge was so BIG:

Maybe the item that impressed me most was the wagon wheel.  It was huge, made of several kinds of wood, and had a metal exterior rim.  It makes you realize what a big deal it was when an axel or some other component broke.  

It turned out that this is a big day in Eyemouth.  There was a queen to be crowned.  I asked a woman down near the beach, "What sort of queen is being crowned today?"  "The Herring Queen."  "Herring Queen?  What are the qualifications for that?"  "You have to e under 18, a good student, and be a scout."  At 2:30, boats, ferrying the queen and her entourage, make their way from St. Abbs to Eyemouth:

Pipers piped:

And drummers drummed:

And at 4:30, the queen was crowned.  I was too done in from the morning's exertions to wait for the big moment, so I went to the Co-Op, bought a Sprite Zero, and came back to the B and B.  No doubt it was a splendid ceremony.  

July 24, Eyemouth

 Let's see, today's itinerary had a lot pieces.  First, at 5:45, Harry's Taxi drove me from Reeth to Darlington, about 50 minutes.  The lady driver drove fast and the road was curvy and she didn't have a Lexus, if you know what I mean.  I did tell her that I suffer from motion sickness and could she possibly go a bit slower. She obliged for about five minutes.  At the train station, an employee helped me retrieve my ticket, which was supposed to be available from the app only it wasn't.  Pleasant  90 minute train ride from Darlington to Berwick-UponTweed, (known as Berrick, to the locals) during which I read the Daf, did Connections and the Spelling Bee.  Woods Taxis picked me up and brought me to Eyemouth where I dropped off my suitcase at the B and B, and then took off along the Berwickshire Coast Path heading north.  

The coast looks like this:

Anyone who has done coastal walking would know what the ups and downs are like.  First you go way way way down, to the beach,  followed almost immediately by a way way way up to the top of the cliff.  The cycle is repeated several times. Fortunately, it was not a scary path, as in I never felt that I might end up in the North Sea.

At one point, however, I thought the directional sign was pointing to the little gap among those ferns.  "No!  The route cannot go through there and up that monster hill!"  It didn't.

The harbour at St. Abbs.

The walk continued around "St. Abbs Head" but that would have added several miles and since I did not start out until 9:00 a.m., that would have made too long a day, so I headed back.

People were frolicking and cavorting in the water (I know they were frolicking and cavorting because I could hear them laughing)....this is the North Sea.  Can you imagine how cold the water must be?

Some impressive cliffage:

There are a number of places where you can divert and go down to the beach, although the beaches are, for the most part or for the whole part, not very nice.  And besides, those are hellish descents.

I do not have to be told twice:

Hydrangeas:

This guy, Willie Spears, with the fish who looks as if he is saying, "Go West, young man," only because of the fish, that does not quite work.  Anyway, he is a local hero: he fought the Church for twenty years because they wanted to tax the fish being caught.

Twenty years of fighting with the church is persistence.

I returned to the fairly pleasant B and B, which has one super amenity:  A FRIG!  The one grocery store in town rates about a C minus, but I am learning how to make do!  

The town: I have never seen more bird shit in my life and bird feathers, too, blowing around.  Legionnaires Disease you could get even without an air conditioner, I swear!  The town has two main churches that look alike, one with a red door and one with a blue door.  Tomorrow, I shall explore the harbour after getting back from walking  to "Berrick."