July 29 St. Abbs/Coldingham

A day of superlatives:  best walk of the bunch so far, best signage, physically hardest, worst weather, and I forget what else!  Andy, who has become my "personal driver" here in Dunbar took me back to the path after which he was going back to bed:

While waiting for Andy:

It was not dark as it seems to have been from the picture.  I don't understand why dark places, like a forest, come out light and light places, like looking over the sea, come out dark!  Pero bueno.

Sculpture of woman and children mourning husbands and fathers drowned in a disaster (of which there have been lots on the North Sea):

Cove, a sweet harbour:

I forget, exactly, why I took this one, but in case you want to know, yes, one did have to climb to the top....and many more like it!

Nuclear power plants are not the only blight on the landscape.  Not only do these caravan parks get prime real estate, they prevent the public from having access, often causing lengthy detours.  A pox on them, I say!

So delicious!

Lots of farmland:

When you cannot open the gate, it helps to be able to squeeze through!

This bit of adorableness:

has been replaced by this:

And dry stone  walls, when they tumble and crumble, are being replaced, too:

Most of the day the camera stayed put.  It rained.  It did not rain so hard that if a drop fell on the GPS it made the screen zoom in to an unreadable size, as big rain drops are wont to do, but it rained hard enough to have to wear full rain gear including poncho that doubles as a tent.  But the wind.  Ohmygod!  The wind was so strong that it blew me off the path.  It was that windy.  This went on for hours and there were many BIG hills to climb in the W I N D and the rain. One good thing is that my hair looks great from the rain only there is on one to say,"Gee, your hair looks great today!  Were you out for hours in the ferocious wind and rain?"  But nevertheless, I am happy to be sitting in a warm, dry B and B drinking tea and eating chocolate.

St Abbs Head deserves every bit as much respect as do the moors.  It demands all your energy to complete all its climbs.  You almost cannot believe it when a village actually emerges at its nether side.

Turns out that "suitable accommodation" was not to be had in St. Abbs (there is none), so it was another  generous mile and a half to Coldingham to reach refuge.  Ring bell.  No answer.  Ring again.  Phone.  No answer.  Call mobile number.  Paul picks up.  "Are you the walker?"  "Yes."  "Go 'round to the Bar B Que where you will find keys."  Do that.  Find keys.  And frankly, am happy to be alone when I take off poncho-that-doubles-as-a tent, rain jacket, other jacket, rain pants, gators, and wet boots.

July 27+28 Dunbar.

Bob, on whom I had to depend to get back to Longformacus to begin final, 18.5 mile, section of the Southern Upland Way, would not pick me up before 6:30 a.m., which was irritating, pero qu'est-ce que on peut faire?  So at 6:45 I set off, and it was actually a fairly interesting day's walk.  Lots of changes of direction, which keeps you alert, and some variety of scenery, including a wonderful pine forest, and finally, a bit of cliff walking, as this walk reaches the North Sea.

It is fun to take pictures of bridges!

Cairn in gated enclosure with bench and weather vane ('sup with that?):

 The North Sea....first glimpse:

Torrence Taxis, pre-booked to take me the ten miles from Cockburnspath (ck is silent) to Dunbar said, "Sure, call when you are about 1/2 hour away."  I did.  No answer.  Called 15 minutes later.  No answer.  Called from Cockburnspath, no answer.  As opposed to Longformacus where there was a bus stop but no bus, Cockburnspath has both a bus stop AND a bus, but the bus runs only every two hours and I did not want to wait almost an hour and a half, so called another taxi company and in 15 or so minutes Andy showed up, took me to Dunbar and gave me much useful information.  Worth every penny.

This garage—waiting point for taxi—functions twenty four hours a day:

Dunbar is home to John Muir.  Here he is as a boy:

John Muir said, "Of all the paths you take in life, make sure a few of them are dirt." He also said, "All that is perishable is vanishing."  He said many other wise and meaningful things.

Room in Rocks Hotel in Dunbar is more like a cell—not only is it small, shabby, and poorly maintained, but stupidly designed. For example, there is a kettle, but to use it you have to put it on the floor and plug it in behind the skinny wardrobe.  The room is also right over the kitchen, so you can smell all the cooking odours.  Guess they need some place to toss the old ladies, but they will not like my Trip Advisor review!  Anyway, at least the room has good light. Rest of hotel is probably pretty nice.

Oh....the Southern Upland Way....yes, I finished it!  I cannot say it was a joy; it was a challenge, so there is a sense of accomplishment.  It is a demanding walk for the intrepid and foolish.  I am so thankful for having had good weather.  For sure St. Medard (weather) and St. Apolonia (teeth) have been following me!!

John Muir link from Dunbar to Cockburnspath was the short (12 mile) route for today.  I am so happy to be walking by the sea again!  The air is so fresh, the smell almost intoxicating, the wind energising, the rocks a constant fascination.

Dunbar Harbour:

Looks like these remains area about to topple:




Blurry close-up of kittiwakes nesting in the ruins of the castle:

Two varieties of bridge crossed today.  High tech:

And low tech:

It is not all beauty.  For example, a nuclear power plant—doesn't it look like a prison?— takes up a good deal of prime real estate:

Maybe, the effluent from that plant is what makes these plants so vigorous.  God forbid!

Shoreline:

Got back to room and decided to banish chair, which is dirtier, more stained and worn than shows in the photo, to the hall.  Room now has 30%  more floor space!

July 25+26 Lauder+Longformacus (Duns)

To recommence the Southern Upland Way, one crosses the Chain Bridge (photo taken when about 2/3 across, so you see, it is really quite long):

which spans the River Tweed:

A VVP (very visible path):

There was an arrow pointing to these here woods, which were very very dark, as in night, except the flash deprives the viewer of that reality:

Turns out that that woodland caper was a circle.  Sometimes it is hard to read the signs.  A couple of days ago, for example, an arrow pointed directly across a field, but, no, you really had to turn sharp, as in 90 degrees, right.

Anyway, got to Black Bull Hotel at 11:00 a.m.; bags had arrived and lady let me check in.  How nice is that!  This Black Bull is not like other Black Bulls, and there area many.  In fact tomorrow, I stay at a hostelry, also called the Black Bull.  This one is elegant, but with one odd feature: the only window is a skylight, which is a bit disconcerting.   But the room is spacious, the bed luxurious, and it is quiet.

Made a cup of tea and took out my supplies to have a little lunch when all of a sudden, OH, NO, my temporary bridge has become unstuck! Immediately search on web for dentist, and do find a clinic in the town where I will be staying tomorrow.  They can see me at 3:10.  This means that hellish walk through moors must be commenced especially early so that prearranged transportation can pick me up in time to make appointment.

E-mail to Suzie to contact dentist in New Haven frantically sent, reply received, instructions to local dentist in hand, so off I went to visit Thirlestane Castle.  On the way, passed a pony patiently tolerating a swarm of flies around its face:

I think maybe I am done with castles and Houses and gardens for a while!  But anyway, tell me this isn't a silly hat that the colonel viscount is wearing:

Would a bookstand so large and ornate as this hold a tome other than a Bible?

Here is Bonnie Prince Charlie's wee bed:

And, his room being en suite, his wee toilet:

And his wee tub:

In case all the relatives could not make it to dinner, they, being deceased or absent for reasons we do not know, could at least adorn every inch of wall space:

Next morning, out the door at 5:45 with determination in every step.  Fears for this stage not unwarranted. "Diligence is required to stay on the correct line of the route." and  "...As these moors are so featureless and windswept this section demands respect, particularly in poor weather conditions." Weather turned out to be perfect, respect was given to the moors, and no wrong turns taken.  However, Bob, the taxi driver, who was to pick me up in Longformacus to take me to Duns could not be reached as there was no phone signal, and there is not a single commercial establishment in Longformacus from which to get help.  Phone in phone booth does not work; there is a bus stop, but no bus.  Do the only sensible thing: flag down a passing car, should one come. And wouldn't you know it, after a few minutes, one did! Debbie and Louie, who were headed to Duns, took pity on my plight and took me with them.  Bob was a pain to deal with anyway, and I would have had to wait two hours for him.  My lucky day! 

Featureless landscape...with sheep:

Bridge with stone steps:

I am not sure what all the hoo-haw was about the difficulty....OK, there was one section that was daunting, but at least one did not have to make one's way through grass and stuff like this as this very one had to do on the first half of the walk:

There are two famous cairns en route.  Legend has it that they represent two brothers, separated at birth, who fought on opposing sides of a war and killed each other.  (Is there is a moral to that tale?)

The brother cairn looks, again, like the 18th/13th century impulse to add or block up windows, only in this case, it is a door.....unless the other one had a door and it was blocked up, and we left not knowing which is the original construction:

Example of VVP (very visible path):

Due to generosity of Debbie and Louie, I made it to my dental appointment with time to spare.  Dentist, Paul Dunmore, cemented in the bridge (cost £30), and all that remains to be seen is a) whether it holds and b) if it holds too well, Dr. Fantarella will have to take a saw to it and make me another!  I am so high maintenance!

Melrose July 23+24

When you take a wrong turn, you never know whom you will meet:

A view on the way from Selkirk to Melrose:

Following my shadow:

Alex and Alex, if driving tanks over cars dis not satisfy, this could be your next adventure:

Completed the Borders Abbey Way at 11:00 a.m.  Photo of Abbey taken from Harmony Gardens a bit away:

Lots of tour busses stop in Melrose so that people can visit the ruins of the Abbey.  The town has several upscale tea shops and cafes, an independent fruit and vegetable store (first in a long time), AND a shop selling fine ice cream.  Happy to have a rest day here.  B and B lady was very nice today and I have a better room that boasts the teeniest frig you ever saw, which makes a big racket, considering its size, but will hold a pint of milk for tomorrow's coffee.

Because this was a rest day, a long-awaited one, at that, I decided NOT to walk the three+ miles to Abbotsford House, but to take the bus.  It is quite intimidating (for me) to take public transportation in unfamiliar places, but I did, and just to add to the anxiety was the fact that the bus did not drop you off right at the place, but at a big, and I mean big, roundabout about 1/3 mile away.  Google Maps, however, performed admirably pointing me in the right direction.  Of course I arrived early, so there was time to walk some of the surrounding paths, which were heavily treed and quite lovely.

This is Abbotsford House—NOT to be confused with Abbotsbury in England where there are subtropical gardens and a swanery—the home of Sir Walter Scott:

You would think that a tour of its rooms would take up the better part of a morning.  Such was not the case since visitors can access only a handful of rooms on the first floor.  Quite a disappointment.  There are also gardens, but they are of the flowers-planted-in square-beds-variety, so, again, not a thrill.

Sir Walter really liked weapons a whole lot, so to welcome you, as you enter, all the walls are covered—artistically, to be sure— with guns and swords and suits of armour, that sort of thing:

There were a couple of lovely windows:

And more walls of the finest oak decorated with more weapons.  That large curved sword at the bottom made me a little bit sick:

The dining table could seat thirty guests.  It is rather sparely set, don't you think?

Good-bye, Abbotsford House:

Lady who directed me back to very big roundabout passed me as I was waiting for the bus.  "You are standing on the wrong side of the street," she insisted.  "No, I don't think so," I said waveringly, and as the bus was due to come any minute, I did not want to be wrong, which, in these matters, I tend to be. Fortunately, this was one time I got it right, and for £1.70 the bus whisked me back to Melrose where I bought a double-scoop ice cream cone, raspberry jam, which I hope will be as good as the almost finished raspberry jam I bought on Arran Island, some nuts, a loaf of bread, yet to be sampled, and a couple of other things.  Mostly, I have been R E L A X I N G, catching up on crossword puzzles.  Soon it will be time to head over to the CoOp to purchase the daily ration of chicken.  Tomorrow's walk to Lauder is billed as 10 miles, so that will be almost like having another rest day.