Oops!...I (almost) did it again

You'd think it would be fairly simple. With loads of time available and 4 whole weeks to get organised, why have I once again left it until the penultimate day of the month to get in my planned bivi-per-month? To be fair, I did have one attempt earlier this month with a trip up to Aviemore. I was doing a couple of route surveys for Scotways and had opted for an overnight camp at the top of a wee hill. When I arrived there (in the dark) I found the spot I wanted under lots of fresh snow and a strong wind starting up. I instead opted to sleep in the van in a much more sheltered spot and was glad I'd made that decision as the van was still rocking all night and more snow arrived. 

This time, the weather looked more settled and I decided to do a "classic" Scottish MTB route - Bridge of Orchy to Loch Etive via Glen Kinglass. By way of an warm-up I headed off up the West Highland Way from Tyndrum. I was aware that the evening was going to be cold and had dressed accordingly but the lovely warm sunshine was already making me pay for it as the track first heads uphill. I was also on the Fatbike and finding the big knobby tyres at only 12psi pretty hard work.

Once off the old road, the big tyres did make light work of the rocky section though it was very slippy going under the cattle creep and then I had to lift the whole bike and gear over the fence.

Back on the old road, I was soon down at Bridge of Orchy and then facing the climb up to Mam Carraigh. I can't help but feel that the gaelic speaker who named this high pass had a sense for a good pun as my legs gave in and I was reduced to pushing for a short while. Soon enough though, I broke out of the forest and could really appreciate the height gained for the wonderful views it provided. 

Time for a wee breather

The descent down to the Inveroran proved to be a real delight - all rocky and slabby. Briefly on the road I was soon at the start of the track to Glen Kinglass and again made good time to the edge of the forest, passing a small area of burning grass on the way. I'd seen a larger area from the top of Mam Carraigh and that turned out to be right at the edge of the track I was on so I took a deep breath and blitzed past it as fast as I could. Once through the farm buildings at Clashgour I had a bit of a choice to make. The footpath led to a nice bridge but would involve a climb over a high stile with the bike. Instead, I opted to see what the ford was like. I was delighted to see a set of high stepping stones, mostly well clear of the water level, so hopped across these, pushing the bike through the river as I went. 

The stepping stones were a lovely surprise

From there, the track carries on alongside the river for a while before it changes character rising up through the terminal moraine of a long-gone glacier. This was a lot more up and down now and I had a sense that the daylight was ending just as I approached the watershed and started my descent into Glen Kinglass.

This turned out to be an absolutely fantastic piece of trail, with large slabby sections like a natural McMoab. Well worth all the effort to get here. 

The route ahead goes thataway....

A couple more river crossings were required, with one old footbridge looking very much the worse for wear and better bypassed. 

Needing some work I think

However, I now had three pressures on me; I needed to concentrate on the trail both for safety and enjoyment, I wanted to look around to enjoy the scenery and take photos, and I still needed to make good time before the sun set. More than once I'd look up at some lovely mountain view, look back at the trail and realise I was about to come a cropper. However, I somehow held it all together and reached Glen Kinglass Lodge in one piece. 

I just happened to have the camera in my hand when this young deer ran out in front of me

From here, the trail improved yet again and  I decided to press on to reach the side of Loch Etive before camping. 

Getting dark now

It was a bit of a relief to catch my first glimpse of the loch and I decided to head uphill a little before pitching the tent. I reckoned that with such a still night, the cold air would slip down to the valley floor and I wanted to avoid the worst of this. I found an old section of dyke with enough flat ground beside it to fit in my small tent and soon had it pitched. I took the precaution of clearing away all the old, dry grass from the front of the tent and found a flat rock to set my stove on. I know how easy it is to start a grass fire and the two I'd already seen were warning enough. One miscalculation I had made was in not having enough water with me. I'd drunk more than I had realised and at this height there was no running water at all - all had frozen solid. Still, the malt whisky would be fine without....

Would you like ice with that whisky?

Orion over Cruachan

By the time I'd eaten and settled in for the night I was quite cosy and slept well until around 2:30 when I was awoken by the sound of barking. It was far too close to be any sort of estate dog so I can only assume it was a fox giving something a hard time. I popped my head out of the tent, hoping for a nice moon but it had clouded over.

Morning at Loch Etive

Just after 7am I was awake again and settled for a cup of coffee and porridge bar for breakfast before packing everything up  and heading along Loch Etive. This track proved to be much hillier than I'd expected and I was glad to finally see the outskirts of Taynuilt. I had a wee walk around Bonawe Furnace before heading for the village teashop, which turned out to be closed.

Bonawe Furnace - worth a visit

With few other options available I grabbed some food and drink from the grocery and headed down to the station platform where I knew there were a couple of shelters. I had the notion I might even get my stove out to make an impromptu brew but the warm sun and a bench were good enough and I simply relaxed awaiting the train back to Tyndrum.

Another fabulous run and a route I'd repeat as a one-day option some time. 

Now then - maybe I should plan the March bivi night soon?

Revisiting some old ground - and some new

The "get Mim fit" campaign stepped up a gear last week as we took advantage of a Groupon deal to head for the Bridge of Orchy Hotel. I've passed it many times and been attracted to it more recently as it seems to have been spruced up a little and has an excellent reputation for the quality of its food. With only one night booked, we decided we'd do two walks in the area, so all I had to do was come up with a couple of candidates. The presence of snow at higher levels ruled out any Munro-bagging attempts so I decided that we'd just stick to low ground and that our first walk would be a section of the West Highland Way. One advantage of this option was that we could jump on the train from Bridge of Orchy to Crianlarich and so walk a longer stretch - in one direction. the only down-side was that the train would be leaving Bridge of Orchy at 9:03 - and we had to get there first!!

An early start got us on to the road and we were well on track until a small convoy of trucks gradually settled in front of us and as the A85 is never the est road for overtaking, we just had to bide our turn. That over with, we then hit some lengthy roadworks and now we were beginning to worry a little. We made it to the station car park with just five minutes to spare, got our boots on, grabbed our rucksacks and headed out into the blistering cold for only a couple of minutes before the train showed up.

Alighting at Crianlarich, we were already in the mood for a second breakfast and so opted for a quick stop in the Crianlarich Hotel. Thankfully, by the time we stepped out again, the day had got a little warmer and we were certainly warmed up by the time we reached the top of the little spur path that leads onto the WHW. After a little calculation, I worked out that it was 20 years since I'd first walked the WHW and 10 years since I'd last attempted it, on the trip that brought on all my foot problems and effectively put and end to my days as a backpacker.  The path hasn't changed much in the last 10 years, although some of the trees have grown a little.

Looking down Glen Dochart from above Crianlarich

 The section down to the the A82 was all the better for the lack of summer leaves, being altogether brighter, and as we crossed the River Fillan to Auchtertyre, Ben More was looking resplendent and almost alpine in the sunshine. The path through Dalrigh dragged on a bit, as it has on my previous two visits. I reckon knowing that a coffee and food awaits at Tyndrum has some detrimental affect on the brains ability to judge time. In due course, the Green Welly Stop arrived and we were soon in for a bit of a carb treat, reasoning that we could break our diet on account of us doing "so much" exercise! 

Beautiful Ben More

I'm just impressed they can read - never mind close gates behind them!

Soon enough, it was time to head out again and up the track past the new graveyard, eventually walking alongside the railway we'd been on only a few hours earlier. Beinn Dorain was looking very majestic and the view towards Stob Gabhar showed lots of snow higher up. I managed the walk down to Bridge of Orchy much faster than last time. Not having to stop to relieve the pressure on my heels every 15 minutes or so certainly made a difference! 

14.5 miles all in and a very pleasant route. So much so that my thoughts of cycling the West Highland Way this year were very much in my mind and I really have to decided whether I opt for a two-day, relaxed trip or go for the one-day all-out challenge. Or maybe I'll just have to do both!

The result of a wee after-dinner walk and a 60-second timer on the compact camera

For day 2, we opted for a straight out-and-back on the path from Victoria Bridge to Glen Kinglass, reckoning we'd simply head out for a couple of hours before turning back. Although it features as one of the mountain biking classic routes, I'd only ever been here on foot and only as far as the farm buildings at Clashgour. I was therefore very keen to see what the track was like further along towards Loch Dochard. 

Scotways sign at Forest Lodge

 It wasn't long after leaving the van that we spotted our first red deer of the day and he seemed pretty much unperturbed by our presence. I reckoned that the intervening river was making him a bit less skittish than he might otherwise have been. However, that didn't explain our next encounter, with one stag standing only a few feet of the track as we passed him by. He looked up at us, watched us go past, then carried on with the salt lick at his feet.

The cheeky beggar was sticking his tongue out at us!

The Right of Way is signposted along the river bank rather than through the forest so we took the opportunity to remain in more open surroundings on the way to the little ford and then the footbridge over the Abhainn Shira. At one section, the riverside path has disappeared altogether due to water erosion and it's still possible to see large chunks of what was river bank slightly further downstream, obviously carried under the power of the river. 

It won't be long before this path is impassable

The track "was" here....

The good track carries on after the little footbridge, eventually climbing up the terminal moraine of an old glacier, past an old stable and then Loch Dochard. We carried on a little further until the path threatened to descend again and we were now astride the Druim Alba - the watershed of Scotland. Strange to think that this far west, we'd only just reached the point where the streams we saw would eventually lead in to the Atantic rather than the North Sea. A brief lunch in the open and a pleasant walk back - passing Clashgour farm this time - saw us back at the van in a little over 4 hours. 

Getting some direction

I'm not 100% sure when and where it started but it seems I've always had a fascination for maps and old routes. I learnt some map reading skills when I was in the Cubs and then the Scouts - certainly enough to get around the countryside fairly safely - and I've explained in my blog about my A9 trip that my father would often point out some old routes he was aware of, particularly the "Wade" military roads. Most of that was forgotten about when i took up motorcycling, especially as access laws in Scotland means you are more-or-less limited to tarmac. However, when I started to get back into hillwalking it wasn't long before I found myself poring over maps, looking at the various black dotted lines and trying to interpret how they would traverse the terrain in real life. As a Munro-bagger, many of these old routes are only used as a way of getting closer to the final ascent, or as a way into somewhere for an overnight camp. After all, our ancestors were mainly interested in how to travel through the countryside, not how to get to the tops of all the hills. 

That fascination also exhibits itself whenever I'm driving somewhere and I see one of the green-arrowed Scottish Rights of Way signs. I can never help myself from trying to work out where the path goes and what it might be like. Old railway lines and old roads also grab my attention whenever I look at a map and I am forced to ponder on what sorts of folk used them and why they are no longer in use. I have, at various times, harboured the notion of filming all the remaining Wade and Caulfield roads, probably from the saddle of a bike, and yet never quite got round to doing something about it. 

Now, as I sometimes find myself with an excess of free time and considering what to do with it, I've started to think about how I could put it to better use. I'd thought about various volunteering opportunities before and been in touch with some organisations. However, one look at my skill-set and I'm soon asked if I could set up a website or do some other IT role. Frankly, and this might sound a bit selfish, I've no intention of getting back into that. So when I was thinking about it again those old green SRWS signs came back to mind and I got in touch with the organisation now known as Scotways. We had chat to discuss how I could help out in a voluntary capacity, seemed to hit it off fairly well (well - it's more map geeks, innit?) and I now find myself as a volunteer path surveyor for Scotways and the Heritage Paths website.  

I really can't say how excited I am about this. I'll be walking and riding lots of routes, adding to the existing descriptions, adding new descriptions and taking photos as necessary. With my cycling background, I'll also be considering how usable they are by bike - and on horseback - with things like gates, fences and other obstacles to negotiate. So if you see me out and about, taking photos of random bits of track, or riding back and forth looking for some hard-to-find bit of a route, you'll now know what I'm up to!

Just made it!

The problem with Resolutions (New Year or otherwise) is that they are made whilst in the most optimistic frame of mind and reality rarely matches our predictions. When I'd decided I'd try to get out for at least one nights bivvying/wild camping each month I was of course thinking of those lovely May/June evenings when it's warm enough to sit out under the stars with a hipflask and just watch the world go by for a bit before relaxing into a nice warm tent and a nice warm sleeping bag. Of course, in order to get through to May, I have a few colder months to endure first. Having put it off during the early, milder days of January, then watching as the freezing weather arrived, it was starting to look like I was going to fail at the first hurdle and as the end of the month approached, we were left with stormy conditions that looked somewhat less than inviting. 

Nevertheless, I made plans for a night on Loch Lomond-side, somewhere north of Rowardennan. I reckoned that would give me a simple cycle in and, at this time of year, it would be very quiet. As the days ticked away, it became obvious that this was a rubbish plan. The strong winds were all westerlies and the east shore of Loch Lomond would be taking the full brunt. A hasty re-plan brought up Tentsmuir Forest in Fife. This is an area I've wanted to explore for some time. I'd passed it on my North East Coast cycle tour a couple of years ago and seen the NCN1 signs but been unsure of how suitable the tracks would be for a touring bike with panniers and so gave it a miss. It also had the advantage that it wasn't too far away to get to and I could make some sort of loop out of it.

The usual last-minute faffage saw me leaving Edinburgh behind schedule and more luggage issues at Leuchars meant I was a whole hour behind my self-imposed timetable when I set off. As a result, it was already getting dark as I started along the Fife Coastal Path and by the time I reached the edge of the forest I was already having to use the front light. This wasn't too much of an issue on the broad forest tracks but by the time I reached the trails through the dunes at Kinshady it was difficult to see far enough ahead to make good progress. What's more, the trails here are like a rabbit warren and it was hard to keep to the main trail. All I could do was keep the trees to my left and head north in search of a sheltered spot. 

At one junction, I headed towards the trees and I found an old WWII pill-box that had once been inundated by the dunes. It was very sheltered hereabouts - too much so in fact. There was little view of the sky and none of the beach. A couple of hundred metres further north, I found a much better spot. The forest was to my back, giving me shelter from the howling winds and I had an open outlook eastwards. 

A few minutes later the tent was pitched, the mat inflated, the sleeping bag unrolled and the water was on for a cook-in-the-bag meal. It was cold though - very - and I clambered into the sleeping bag still fully dressed as I sat to enjoy my food. A little Oban malt whisky and all was soon right with the world. 

After reading a few chapters of Life of Pi on my phone and another brew-up to get some heat, it was just a case of hunkering down for the night, listening to the roar of the wind in the trees and the occasional bird cry from the beach. That's when it started to get lighter and I knew I had to get out of the tent for a while. The moon was rising over the north sea against a dark, starry sky. I managed to get a couple of (poor) photos, wishing I'd brought a better camera with me. Then it was a few star-jumps to warm up again and back into the sleeping bag until morning.

After looking at the weather forecast I'd already decided that I should make an effort to wake up around 5:30. The wind was due to change direction and I knew my little spot would be a bit exposed. However, as I flitted between awake and asleep all night, I was also aware that the rain had returned with a vengeance and when 5:30 came it was still lashing it down, the tent was still stable and I just hunkered down for another couple of hours. At 7:30, the rain had subsided and I opted for a quick breakfast so I could get everything packed away before it returned. 

My hands were getting numb rolling the tent up and doing up the straps but as soon as I was on my way again, I warmed up. I headed north to complete the coast ride round to Tayport and then back south via the Morton Lochs to make up a little loop. On the way I saw more pillboxes, an icehouse, deer and lots of rabbits. With lots of interest in Tentsmuir Forest, I feel it's an area I'll be back to explore further - both by bike and on foot. 

As I headed back along the Fife Coastal Path, I met one of the local rangers who was very, very interested in the bike. He'd seen my tracks from the night before and was intrigued by them. As we chatted he seemed very switched on to "evironmentally-friendly" low-impact of the wide tyres and I gave him some of my details to pass on to his colleagues. As I reached the van again at Leuchars, the heavens opened. Perfect timing.

Overall, not a bad night out. All the gear worked, although I'll no doubt add/change a couple of things, and it was refreshing just to get out into the wilds again for a wee break. Plans for Februarys bivvy are already being formulated and this time it might be using the 29er.





Oh - and this was waiting for me when I got home.......

Snow - at last

Well, the first blast of a decent winter has just come and gone. Already I've been cycling in the snow more than I did last winter so I thought it was worth a quick round-up of how it's been going.

The first decent trip took me up Allermuir via Harlaw, Maidens Cleugh, and Castlelaw. However, due to a nascent blizzard I'd not set off until almost 2pm. However, I did get some beautiful clear blue sky as I set up towards Maidens Cleugh. On the way up, I bumped into PHRP Ranger Susan Falconer, author of the Cicerone Pentland Hills Walking Guide. We chatted a bit about some path repair work that the local mountain biking community are going to help with his year and, of course, about the bike. As I set off again I could see some low cloud approaching and was expecting a further snow fall. At the reservoir I headed towards Castlelaw, then up past the shooting ranges and along the big track that carries on over to Dreghorn. So far, the thin layer of snow hadn't been an issue. However, cutting off the track to climb Allermuir it wasn't long before the snow got wetter and deeper and I eventually ran out of traction. By this time, the low cloud had settled in and I just pushed the bike up the last couple of hundred metres to the mist shrouded trig point. 

Gutted not to get a view, I hung around a few minutes in the freezing wind until I could make out at first a slight thinning, then finally a break. With my late start, the low sun was casting an orangey-pink light over the summit so I quickly snapped off a few photos before my hands started freezing. 

From here, it was a straightforward descent, picking up my my ascent trail to the main track and then round the front of Capelaw and down to Bonaly Reservoir, the sun getting lower and lower, pinker and pinker as I went and it has completely set by the time I reached the track alongside Torduff that would take me back home. 

Overall, a nice wee run and the big fat tyres coped really well in the snow.

My next ride was out to Listonshiels and back along the "Yellow Brick Road" to Wester Bavelaw. This time, things didn't go quite as smoothly. A damp easterly was blowing the snow around and pretty soon it was collecting all round the bike. Crucially, it also froze up the rear mech so I was reduced to just two gears (i.e. the front rings). This is a problem I've had before in these conditions and one of the reasons I'd initially decided to fit an Alfine (internal gear) hib to the fatbike. I'd subsequently removed this as I couldn't get the range of gearing I really wanted but I now considered a different way of using it. 

Wet snow build-up

As a result, the Alfine has been re-installed and I've kept the dual rings up front too. This necessitated the purchase and installation of an Alfine chain tensioner. While not looking as "clean" and potentially introducing a point of failure, I reckoned this was a chance worth taking. 

My next ride was therefore with the Alfine fitted and I must say I'd forgotten just how it felt. Gear changing is a noiseless, smooth and quick affair, so mush so it's often tempting to think it hasn't actually happened. Pickup after gear changing is also instant. Overall. I'm very impressed and with the range of gearing now at my disposal I'm tempted to run the bike this way in the longer term too. In fact, with a slightly larger "middle" ring at the front I can extend the range even further giving me some really good gears for some road-inclusive island hopping I have planned.

Waypost at Listonshiels. I love coming out this way as it has a wilder, more open feel than the area around Harlaw and Bavelaw.

Thin snow over ice - always a bit tricky!

I love the colour the setting sun makes on Scots Pine

These weird frozen waves were on Threipmuir Reservoir. It's amazing what you spot when you are just being observant.

The Pogies in all their glory.

The other modifications I've made this winter are mostly to stay warmer. The Hotpog Pogies may look like a set of over-sized boxing gloves but my hands remain toasty even with just a thin pair of summer gloves on underneath. The only issue is stopping to take photos etc as removing your hands from the pogies can result in them getting pretty cold pretty quickly. 

I also decided to try a different tack with my footwear. My Shimano MT90s have been great over the years and are worn on all my remote bikepacking trips. However, I've noticed that the leather soaks through and then, despite the Goretex liner, they start to feel really cold. I spotted some Salomon Snowshoe boots at Decathlon one day - waterproof and insulated, they sounded ideal. So far, they have been. I bought them large enough that I can still fit a decent sock inside and have wiggle room and they are perfect in the colder weather. A lot cheaper than bike-specific boots too!!

So - with one round of snow gone, I've just about set myself up for the next. Here's hoping it won't be another 12 months.

More fun in the snow

After last years dismal performance, at least we've had some snow this winter and it's great to be out enjoying it while it lasts. This weeks walk was a little stroll around a quieter area of the Pentlands, retracing a walk we did last winter but with a little shortcut. 

Leaving the Bavelaw car park we set off along the Rigs Road on hard-packed snow. That was soon to end as we reached the little path that runs alongside the telegraph poles towards Listonshiels. This can often be a bit of a mudbath but the problem today was that the snow had been drifting in and was thigh-deep in places. That made progress a little slow but we managed through cleaner that I can remember. Heading from Listonshiels up to the Borestane the snow was just deep enough to cover the track in places and we were glad of the fence posts marking the way for us. At least it also covered the wooden "road" which was one less potential obstacle. So far we hadn't seen any other footprints. I was a bit surprised until I remembered that the bulk of the snow had only appeared 24 hours ago.

 It had been very calm all the way up here and I was expecting a stronger breeze as we crossed the col but it remained quite still all the way down to the North Esk Reservoir. Again, some patches of snow were very deep (crotch-deep in palces) and, being soft, made for hard going. We were therefore glad to see the little bird hide and escaped in there to watch the Mallard and a Whooper Swan while we had our lunch. Whoever had been in before us had neglected to close one of the shutters so it had quite a bit of snow inside it but was handy nonetheless. I made sure it was securely closed up before we left.

From here, we followed the edge of the reservoir, crossed the dam and then began the steep climb up towards Spittal Farm. On this occasion we carried on up the hill rather than take the steep descent and then the climb up Monks Rig. This is the first time I've walked over Spittal Hill and I wasn't sure how much of a track there would be but the quads have obviously been up here and, even under a bit of snow cover, it was clear that the track carried on all the way along the ridge. Approaching Green Law I was treated to a very unfamiliar Pentlands skyline with West Kip very prominent. 

Passing over Green Law we were soon down to the Red Road - a track we know very well. There were signs of some cross-country ski-ing from here all the way back to Bavelaw and Threipmuir Reservoir. We arrived back at the car just as it was getting dark - perfect timing!

All in all, a lovely 11.5 mile circuit with enough climbing for a bit of exertion and not another walker, cyclist or ski-er seen all day.

Boots on again

I've been a bit lazy, not posting up here. I was going to do an end-of-year round-up but every time I thought about it I got a bit depressed that I'd actually done so little. My mind has therefore started to focus more on plans for 2013. First priority is getting Mim up Mount Toubkal in April. With this in mind, the hiking boots are getting a good airing again and we are starting to explore some more local routes just as we did this time last year. One issue with this is that I do like my loops. For some reason, I just hate doing there-and-back routes even though logic suggests you have a different view in each direction. As a result, we are often forced to make our way across heather bogs in search of a path that will take up back to our starting point.

After a bit of internet searching I was lucky enough to find a nice loop in the Manor Hills just south of Broughton. Leaving from the tiny hamlet of Drumelzier we made decent time on a good landrover track up to Pyketone Hill whereupon the low cloud dropped a little and left us without any view at the summit. Dropping down on to the Theives Road it started to clear, though there was little time to stop and take in our surroundings given the very cold breeze. We followed the fence line up to Long Grain Knowe and Middle Hill before dropping over Glenstivon Dod where we managed to find a little shelter from the wind long enough to have some hot juice and a sandwich. From there it was a simple walk up to Drumelzier Law and then we followed the ridge line all the way back to Finglen Rig and back to the valley.

A very pleasant walk out and a wee bit longer than we've been doing recently. The Theives Road looks like an interesting through route that I must look into a bit more.

In the cloud on Pykestone Rig

Poor Middle Hill doesn't even get a cairn!

A random cairn on the way to Glenstivon Dod

Dropping down for a bit of shelter - at least the sky was clearing

Another random cairn. Quartzite blocks very bright against the dark heather.

Mim about to "top" Drumelzier Hill

A better day than it was when we started - and all (mostly) downhill from here!

Border Patrol

I've been thinking about this one for a while. Last winter I did a couple of longer evening rides with a few mates, Carlisle to Edinburgh and Berwick to Edinburgh. That left me with part of the triangle to complete - the Coast to Coast. As it transpires, this is also a route I wanted to do as part of a longer term project. So, I looked at train timetables, selected a route and then waited. On a few occasions I'd dig out the plan but somehow it just never quite happened. Often it would be the weather but usually something else would pop up. With the clocks about to go back, I thought I'd better get the finger out and get on with it. Inevitably, the weather once again decided to play games with me. The first snow flurries of the winter arrived once I'd booked the hotel and train. 


Day 1
Undaunted, I was up early but really not feeling that great. Unrested, dodgy guts and a hoarse, dry throat weren't the ideal start to my day and it didn't get any better sitting on the train to Carlisle.

Leaving Carlisle station looked promising - lots of NCN stickers to follow. Unfortunately, they weren't followed up and I spent some time exploring a car park and various back streets. Eventually, I let the GPS guide me until I started to pick up the NCN7 signs again and they took me all the way to Gretna for the obligatory photo stop.

England on the left, Scotland on the right. That's irony.

This is the River Sark - the official border on the West coast and immortalized by Rabbie Burns in his song "Parcel o' Rogues".

Now Sark rins o'er the Solway sands

And Tweed rins tae the ocean

Tae mark where Englands province stands

Sic' a parcel o' rogues in a nation

(I should point out, for the benefit of my English friends that they are not the rogues in this tale. That would be the Scottish gentry that sold our independence for money.)

Leaving Gretna took me to Gretna Green and the famous blacksmiths shop. In reality, I was more interested in the nearby cafe as I was, by now, gasping for my second coffee of the day. Little wonder when it was already after 11am.

Setting off again I was starting to get worried about the ride ahead of me. I was already behind schedule and I just couldn't get my riding funk on. In one way I was happy to reach Canonbie. This lovely wee town is placed just where the terrain changes from the gentle river flats to the hillier terrain we normally think of as the Borders and that was the issue. I knew that the riding was due to get a bit tougher. Is have been less concerned if the projected South-westerlies had put in an appearance instead of the bitter Northerly I was experiencing. Still, the scenery was lovely, it was dry and sunny and before too long my planned stop at Newcastleton was upon me.
There was already 3 cyclists in the cafe. Hardcore, older types with all the gear. I asked where they were heading, to which the reply was "home". Brilliant. They seemed impressed by my plans though.

I knew that there would be little chance of finding any more facilities for a while and hoped that necessity would push me on. The climb from here up to Wauchope would be the first real push of the day but it mostly went in OK. Passing the little car park at the top of the climb was an important little milestone of my trip. Up until now, all the river systems had been draining into the Irish Sea. Now, I was in the Tweed system, draining into the North Sea. This then is the Druim Alba - Scotlands Watershed. In theory, it's downhill all the way from here to Berwick. However, I knew that I had a couple of hurdles to navigate before I'd be there.

The first issue happened almost immediately. Here, on the north side of the hills, the sun hadn't got round to melting the overnight snow and I hit the first patch at some speed, trying not to panic and keep a nice gentle, curving line round the bend. I did take the precautionary measure of unclipping my feet ready for a bale-out but it proved to be unnecessary and I just took it a bit easy hitting blind spots.

Still freezing in the shade

The descent to near Bonchester Bridge was enjoyable, if a bit cold and, the climb to Carter Bar was a lot more gentle than the route adopted by the A68. I was, however, completely done in, struggling to keep it moving and watching the daylight slowly disappear. It was a feeling more of relief than pleasure that hit me when I eventually pulled in to the Border car park for another photo.

The literal high point.

My GPS told me it was now 17 miles to my hotel and, as it was already well after 4pm, I knew I would have to push on a bit to get in before dark. Fortunately, the first thing in front of me was the fast switchback descent of the A68. This took me quickly to the Hownam turn off for more little lanes away from the main road. On the way I passed over Dere Street - an ancient Roman Road and one of the very few off-road "roads" in Scotland.

This is certainly a very quiet corner of the world and as dusk descended I was keeping a count of how far it was to each farmhouse! Eventually, and after almost missing the last turn, I made it to Morebattle and the Templehall Hotel. I'd not quite needed my lights, but it was close.

Day 2
After not the best nights sleep, I awoke to see the extra hour of daylight passing by outside my window while I waited for breakfast. Obviously not as cold as yesterday had been, it was now quite damp with a light drizzle evident as I was prepping the bike for action. My first port-of-call was Kirk Yetholm which had been my original destination (had the Border Hotel not been fully booked). It's a really lovely little village and stands at the end of the Pennine Way, on the St Cuthberts Way and now also marks the start (or end?) of the Scottish National Trail too.

My self-imposed route now took me on a long, winding detour around this very pleasant little corner of Scotland, the game here being to run as close to the border as I could without crossing it or taking any u-turns. This meant I'd see signs for, e.g. Coldstream 8 miles, but I'd be heading away from them taking in extra lanes and side roads. The South Westerly that had been promised yesterday had now turned into more of a North Westerly which had me puffing a wee bit as I fought against it but once I reached Kelso and my first brush with the River Tweed, I had a fantastic blast all the way along to Coldstream. Here, the road crosses the Tweed again marking another important part of the border.

From Coldstream, I was back onto quieter roads with some beautiful old houses tucked away, large gates lodges and ornate gateways marking out some quite extensive grounds. In theory, I should have turned North after reaching Paxton but as Berwick-upon-Tweed sits astride the river where it meets the North Sea and gives its name to Scotlands most South Easterly county I thought it was only right to grant it honorary Scottish "citizenship" and grace it with my presence. It was quite a shock to suddenly see so many folk. It was still a damp day but the town was fairly heaving with both locals and tourists and I was lucky to get a seat in the Cafe Nero to enjoy a decent coffee and some hot food.


So far, I'd mostly had a relaxing comfortable ride and as I started North out of Berwick I was looking at my clock, pleased at my schedule. That didn't last long. The first problem was that my plan to follow the coastal path and avoid the A1 immediately came unstuck passing a large caravan park. The ground was rough and extremely muddy which had me slithering along. Progress at this rate would have me out another night. I therefore headed back onto the A1, taking advantage of a pavement all the way to Marshall Meadows. A quick enquiry to a local told me that the path here was even less likely to be ridable so it was back onto the A1 dual carriageway to the Border Viewpoint then off to cut through Lamberton. This left me with only 3 miles of so to get onto the Burnmouth exit towards Eyemouth. 

By now, I was beginning to feel quite tired. The headwind had picked up a little but I just didn't seem to be generating any power. This was worse when I exited Eyemouth towards Coldingham where the moor just seemed to be one long climb after another. I'd approach each bend sure that this was the last climb, only to see the road still rising in front of me. As I slowed, the daylight slowly leaked away and around 15:30 I opted to switch some lights on for safety. Eventually, I reached the top of the moor and could see a long downhill ahead of me but, more importantly, the coastline and various landmarks all the way to journeys end at Dunbar. 

I was so intent shooting down the hill, intent on making up some time, that I almost missed the GPS telling me I had a right turn to make. This was the junction for Pease Bay and as soon as I started down it, I was wishing I had actually missed the turn. Rather like one of those quaint Cornish coves, here the road dove steeply down to the sea. A ford at the bottom looked crossable but I opted for the safety of the footbridge before heading steeply back up to cliff-top level again. Cruel. 

Navigation from here couldn't have been simpler - just follow the NCN signs first along one side of the A1, then cross at Torness, then along the other side until a lane appears that takes you on a strange little detour round the back of the cement works. Of all the NCN routes I've been on, this surely has to count as one of the most bizarre!!  Finally and just as dusk was truly settling in, I made it to the railway station at Dunbar where the staff were happy to let me bring my bike into the waiting room, put my feet up and relax almost semi-unconscious until the train to Edinburgh arrived.