LEJOG Day 64: St Boswells to Galashiels

Weather: Cloudy with threat of rain, but none

Distance covered today: 19.3km (12.0mi)

Last night's B&B: Mainhill (£30)

Cumulative distance: 1280.3km (795.5mi)/ % Complete: 66.9%

GPS satellite track of today's route: Day 64 (click!)

No rain, hardly any mud, a brisk climb up a high hill, a visit to a charming town and an attractive walk down a lovely river and disused railway line! Soul food for the long-distance walker!  I am now getting into my stride away from the specified route of the Pennines and am enjoying finding my way on strange paths and interesting places. Strictly speaking, I didn’t need to climb the highest peak of the Eildon Hills, but when I got to the top of the saddle between them on St Cuthbert’s Way, I met two walkers who insisted it was the thing to do, so off I set. I’m still not sure that it was worth the effort, but it certainly allowed me to look all the way back to the Cheviots and forwards to the hinterland of Scotland which will be my next objective. It was also interesting that I had the energy and the sense of freedom to do it, even with full pack!

The thing that continuously amazes me is the sheer extent of the system of major paths across most of the UK, complete with bridges, styles, gates and waymarks. I was also interested to see that there are more people using paths such as St Cuthbert’s Way than the Pennine Way. It must be that people have been put off by the sheer challenge of the Pennines and prefer to walk the more amenable minor paths, which probably also take them to more places of interest, such as abbeys and attractive villages with teashops! It is also far easier to walk on albeit muddy paths than on the penetrable bogs of the uplands!

In a way, this is a return to normalcy after my sojourn in outer space. It strikes me though that while I was weightless out there, I did do something completely out of character for me, which I failed to report. On my rest day in Bellingham, I made use of an offer by the B&B to have a swim and a sauna at a nearby hotel with which it had an arrangement. I used my pyjama shorts as swimming trunks, which did little to hide my modesty, and just went for it. Apart from one extremely good female swimmer who was frankly far more focussed on swimming endless lengths, there was no-one there to embarrass me, and I had a whale of a time.

It reminded me though of the last sauna I had, which, I’m afraid is another Russian story!  I got quite close to the CEO of a smallish oil company. He was a very impressive person, fluent in English and French, and with a delightfully Russian sense of humour, even though he was Chechnyan in origin. I found it amazing that with his background, he had progressed so far up the Russian hierarchy, but it was the measure of the man. As an entrepreneur, he was forever buying and selling assets on the flimsiest of data, and he often called on me for technical and business advice.

One summer, he phoned me from his dacha on the Black Sea coast at Yalta to ask for some advice on an installation he had bought in the port of Sevastopol. He invited me to join him for an inspection. He always kept his private life very private and in any case I was under strict ethical rules not to accept undue hospitality, and was therefore directed to stay at a luxurious hotel on the coast. I was collected by one of his senior employees who informed me that the boss would join us later at a famous Russian banya (bathhouse) on the coast. My host was of course quite late, which was his style, and I was told that I was to get stuck in before he arrived.

After some initial pleasantries which included coffee and glass of Georgian wine, we got down to business. I was told to strip naked and to go into the steam room. There Lyudmila was waiting, at something like 15 stone, and with a determined look on her ample, Slav features. I was horribly embarrassed! There seemed to be no choice. Anyway, after I had warmed up to something vaguely resembling a boiled tomato, she suddenly got me to lie on an elevated table and attacked me with a birch branch, complete with all its twigs and leaves! She thrashed me all over for some time. Resistance seemed futile. Then suddenly, it was all over and I was instructed to go outside and leap into the freezing Black Sea. Hardly had I struggled, frozen from the grip of the sea, than I was told the whole process had to be repeated, many times.

Eventually, my host arrived. I noticed immediately that he was wearing swimming trunks. I asked him, rather sheepishly why I had had to strip naked, and he looked rather surprised and told me that I should have just refused!

Afterwards, when I reflected on the whole enormously embarrassing episode, I was struck by how much the need to fit in caused me to abandon my own norms. I also wondered just how far one may reasonably be expected to go in search of a business relationship. The trouble is that when you are so far outside your comfort zone, there are few pointers left to what is reasonable behaviour and what isn’t. I really do think I let myself down badly that night; not because there was anything inherently wrong with a Russian banya, but because if I really did feel so horribly embarrassed about it, I should have had the courage of my convictions and insisted on maintaining my dignity within my own prescribed limits.  It was a lesson I learned too late in my business career.

Fortunately, there was no Northumbrian equivalent of Lyudmila in my Pennine sauna. Also, the swimming pool was a lot warmer and the sauna a lot cooler. It wasn’t anywhere near as testing as even my Finnish experiences, where in much more dignified circumstances, I did indeed have a number of business meetings in the sauna, accompanied by unbelievable amounts of alcohol.

For all that, it was relaxing and enjoyable, and the fact that I had pushed myself to take advantage of it is a source of a certain minor satisfaction. Either that or it is further evidence that my frail hold on sanity is fraying further at the edges!

Aging Lothario with young flame

A dog-rose for Veronica

My first objective of the day. I was heading for the cleavage between those two breasts, just over the horizon

Another dog-rose for Veronica

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A delightful mongrel: half Staffie, half Jack Russell

Beautiful patterns inside a fox-glove

Heading through a forest for the Eildon Hills

Approaching the top of Eildon Hill, at 422m (1388ft)

Looking over at the other breast from the top of Eildon Hill. It used to be a Roman Fort

The attractive town of Melrose

The abbey in Melrose

The River Tweed

Swans on a calmer section of the Tweed

I had no idea that the game of Rugby Sevens was invented in Melrose

The disused railway-track to Galashiels

The main street into Galashiels: all multiples and super-stores. Two girls saw me taking this shot and nearly killed themselves with laughter. They had a point!