As part of my mission to conquer the Borders Abbeys Way stage-by-stage, I set off from Edinburgh on a dreich Sunday morning to meet Dad and Andrew in Kelso. The weather did just about everything on the drive down, but as always it was a lovely drive. Dad and Andrew got to Kelso shortly after me, and we then took one car up to St Boswells - or actually just outside, in Clintmains, future village idyll.
We set off along the road initially and then into the woods. It wasn't long until we stumbled upon our first minor problem:
There's been a fair bit of rain recently, and the path literally disappeared into the torrent in front of us. However, as Andy pondered over the best place to jump, Dad and I spotted a bridge. Over we went, feet still dry. Andrew was still tempted to jump though...even though the bridge was clearly the sensible option...
Thankfully, he made the right call and took the bridge, but it certainly wouldn't be our last stream to ford.
The path took us through fields, and onwards alongside the Tweed. The river was very high, and very fast. We passed a wee angler's hut, but there was no chance of fishing today. Dark clouds loomed ahead of us, but the rain stayed off, for now.
It was great walking along the Tweed, but it wasn't long before the path twisted away from the river, through the fields once more.
It was here we stumbled upon our next problem. I'm sure normally at the point above there is a small stream or trickle of water or boggy bit to cross ... not for us. The field was very muddy, and the fast flowing stream was very wide as it cantered its way down in to the Tweed. How on earth were we going to cross this one?
As Dad pondered shimmy-ing along the fence (a sight I wish I'd seen actually) I managed to find a narrow part of the stream. With the biggest leap I could muster, I went for it. Thankfully I made it, but with a bit of a squelchy landing. Now I was on the other side, I was in the perfect place to catch Andrew's and Dad's attempts to ford. Unfortunately - oops I mean fortunately - they both made it safely:
From there we meandered our way up, through and over fields. There were a few small hills, each effort rewarded with panoramic views all round. After a few miles we reached the small settlement of Makerstoun, where we took a short break for lunch and a breather. Previously there had been a clammy sweaty mugginess in the air whilst walking; now sitting brought a distinct chilly breeze and our jackets were soon back on again.
Buoyed by our sandwiches and pork pies (best walking fodder), we were soon striding back out again. Again, the clouds looked ominous above us, and it wasn't long before they turned to rain.
Andrew had had his waterproof trousers on from the start of the day, but as the rain started to get heavier, Dad and I swithered about - and then stuggled with - getting our waterproofs trews on. By the time we eventually had managed, the rain had stopped.
On we went along paths, skirting round fields, trudging through long, wet grass. From what I've seen of the Borders Abbeys Way so far, this wasn't the most exciting stage. That's not to say it wasn't enjoyable, as it certainly was. But once we'd gone past the Tweed and the views, there was a fair amount of trudging to be done. This wasn't helped by the fact it was very muddy, and very wet. My feet were wet from quite early on, and it really is time I invested in some leather boots for wet walking.
Whilst some of the fields weren't all that exciting, there were some nice ones to be seen:
More trudging, each left turn through the fields making us feel like we were going further and further away from our destination, Kelso. Of course we were getting closer and closer, and after a sweeping tree-lined downhill section, we were alongside this famous landmark:
After we'd past the amazing intertwining of the Racecourse and the Golf Course, we were out onto the outskirts of Kelso, and there was a bit of discussion whether to take the 'quickest' route into town, or the official route of the Borders Abbeys Way. Well, with two votes to one (sorry Andrew) we were following the official way into Kelso town centre - past the ice rink, through a housing estate, and then out with a great view of Poynder Park and the North Parish Church:
We then continued to follow the official path down to 'the Cobby', which now holds memories for me - Dave taking me down to Kelso to show me where he'd grown up; and then last summer with many of the Keith clan, including Dave's brother and his family over from Australia, seeing their old house Falcon Hall - the former home of the falconer for the Duke of Roxburgh.
We didn't spend long - the rain was starting to get heavy again - and the town square was moments away. We'd arrived - ten miles later - and lovely though Kelso is - we were wet and ready to head off.
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| Happy Father's Day daddy! |
We drove back up to Clintmains to collect the other car and then re-convened at the Buccleuch Arms in St Boswells - for what was supposed to be a celebratory cup of coffee. But the 'Free pint for all Dads on Father's Day' sign soon put paid to that plan - pints all round.
It was then a lovely drive up from St Boswells on the A72 towards Peebles and to West Linton for a much-needed shower and a delicious dinner.
More great times on the Borders Abbeys Way - 3 stages done, 3 to go....
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