LEJOG Day 67: Peebles to Carlops

Weather: Cloudy and cool

Distance covered today: 25.1km (15.6mi)

Last night's B&B: Whitestone House (£30)

Cumulative distance: 1339.5km (832.3mi)/ % Complete: 70.0%

GPS satellite track of today's route: Day 67 (click!)

By a stroke of very good fortune, I happened to be in Peebles in Beltane Week. By an even better stroke of good fortune, I happened to be sitting at a table with Rosemary and Keith this morning, and it turned out that Rosemary was once the Beltane Queen! I am nothing if not diligent in my researches and armed with this information, I have discovered that the only Beltane Queen with the name of Rosemary was Rosemary Smelt and she was queen in 1958. I can only insist that the date must be wrong, because the Rosemary I met this morning couldn’t possibly have been born by then!! (Either that or she has had an easy and charmed life in Keith’s care!)

But as usual, I am getting ahead of myself! As I wandered through the parties and processions last night, completely amazed at the sights and abysmally ignorant of the occasion, I felt that this time I really was coming in from outer space! Fortunately, this morning, Rosemary was able to give me a most succinct and erudite description of the event. Unsurprisingly, it has the same mediaeval origins as many of the summer festivals of this part of the world, celebrating midsummer by the lighting of fires and general celebration of the season. In the border towns, the festivals of course also reflect the embattled past. In Peebles, a particular tradition is the Riding of the Marches, a ceremony in which the Cornet, accompanied by other horsemen, would ride around the boundaries of the district to ensure the security of the Royal and Ancient Burgh that had been conferred under a charter from King James I. The festival includes many traditional elements and seems to involve the whole community. Certainly, the entire town was out last evening and the atmosphere reminded me of Guy Fawkes celebrations in the south, except that it all happens in broad daylight in the bright Scottish summer evenings!  There was also no shortage of alcohol.

I did though find myself in rather strange mood. These festivals are community events and I felt isolated and slightly excluded. I had spent the later part of the afternoon in the public library in a successful search for an internet connection (wifi is available and free in Scottish libraries!) and that reinforced my contemplative mood. Over supper in a rough pub, I found a dog-eared and damp book in a discarded bookcase, its spine broken and hard cover missing. To my surprise it was part of an edited volume of books of serious literature and my mood improved as I read about Russian nihilists in the 19th century. Then, all of a sudden, I came upon this poem by Robert Burns, and it transformed my mood completely! I was so delighted, I transcribed it onto a paper napkin and here it is (put on your best Scots accent and battle through. It’s worth it):


To a Mouse by Robert Burns (on turning up her nest with the plough) Nov. 1785

Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty
Wi’ bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,
Wi' murdering pattle.

I'm truly sorry man's dominion
Has broken Nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth born companion
An' fellow mortal!

I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen icker in a thrave
'S a sma' request;
I'll get a blessin wi' the lave,
An' never miss't.

Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin!
It's silly wa's the win's are strewin!
An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
O' foggage green!
An' bleak December's win's ensuin,
Baith snell an' keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste,
An' weary winter comin fast,
An' cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro' thy cell.

That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble,
Has cost thee monie a weary nibble!
Now thou's turned out, for a' thy trouble,
But house or hald,
To thole the winter's sleety dribble,
An' cranreuch cauld.

But Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!

Still thou are blest, compared wi' me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But och! I backward cast my e'e,
On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!

Now I begin to understand what the Scots saw in Burns’ writing. Amongst other things, it expresses eloquently my sister, Margie's attitude to the animal kingdom! And what an extraordinary way to encounter it!  My mood transformed, I circulated amongst the revellers until weariness set in and it was time to turn in.

Only to receive a bit of a shock!  I was absent-mindedly plotting my course for today, when suddenly I realised that I had underestimated the route by misreading the major roads on two adjoining OS maps. I was far further from tonight’s B&B than I had anticipated, and there was no easy way of getting there by road!  Basically the problem is that the Tweeddale valley had lulled me into complacency as it wended its way in a north-westerly direction. But now the grain of the country was changing. The valleys have now started to run to the north-east, carrying the roads with them. To continue to the north-west, I have again to cross the hills and there are no roads. After an initial period of disquiet in which I couldn’t see an easy solution, I eventually found a way using forestry tracks and farm paths that would do the job. It seemed I was in for an adventure!

This morning I set off as early as I could, feeling the tingle of excitement that had spurred me on my way through earlier challenging sections of my journey. I wandered through the preparations for Beltane weekend in Peebles, slightly regretting leaving it all behind, when suddenly a car screeched to a halt at a cross-roads, and I was enthusiastically greeted by Tracey and Richard, who I had met earlier on my journey in Innerleithen. We were ecstatic! I can’t express how exciting these coincidences are on a journey such as this! They were visiting Scotland on the sad business of attending Richard’s grand-mother’s funeral, and were facing the unenviable task of clearing out her home. She had reached the fine old age of 102, so it was not an unexpected parting, but nonetheless, not easy. We had shared dinner together in Innerleithen where I had discovered that Richard was an ex-South African, who had decided to become a house-husband to bring up the kids while Tracey worked. I was most interested in his choice and had thoroughly enjoyed their company. I had not expected to see them again!

The early part of my day’s walk involved a choice between a path and an A-road. The rules in Scotland are different to those in England. In Scotland, the right to roam over public and private land is an ancient tradition, codified into law as late as 2003, with the only provision being the duty to act responsibly. In England and Wales, the situation is much more complicated and the right to roam, codified in law in 2000, is restricted to certain public lands such as downland, heathland, moorland and coastal land. The public also has the right to use public footpaths, bridleways and byways. What I hadn’t realised until now is that these rights are depicted on OS maps in that public footpaths in England and Wales are clearly identified as stippled green paths. Of course in Scotland, where there is no restriction, there are also no green stippled paths on the OS maps. Footpaths are marked as inconspicuous black dots, but as all footpaths are by definition public, there is no need to highlight them as public!

It had taken too long for this rather basic information to penetrate my brain, but it opened up all sorts of new routing possibilities in Scotland for me. However, some realities are the same in all three countries! Just because a path is marked on a map, doesn’t mean it exists on the ground. I had opted initially for the path, but when it disappeared into a dank and watery riverside bush, I back-tracked and took my chances on the A-road. To my delight, it had a pavement for about half the required distance, and I was soon off into the hills on forestry tracks, feeling energised and excited to be forging my own way into the Scottish hinterland! I had warned Veronica that the going today might be through uncharted territory and that if I didn’t make it to my destination, she would know to call out emergency services. I was geared for the challenge!

Eventually, quite close to my destination and now back on a minor road, I passed a little group of pedestrians having a chat on the road. The man turned to me.  “Laddie, let me guess”, he exclaimed in a broad Scottish accent, “ye’re on ye way to John O’ Groats, are ye not?”  “How did you know?” I asked. “Och, it’s obvious, mon. This is the logical way, isn’t it? Lot’s of ye laddies come down this road!”  So there I was, thinking that I had invented a unique and very personal track through the uplands of the Cloich Hills, only to discover that I was not alone!

It’s hard to be a pioneer in this much travelled and hugely interesting land…..

A tasteful and unusual war memorial in Peebles

Bagpipes at the start of a Beltane procession

For the love of Scotland!!

Some of the floats

It has to be said that these rugby players looked as embarrassed as the audience!

Rosemary and Keith explaining Beltane to me over breakfast

The A-road and its welcome pavement

Richard and Tracey at our chance reunion!

I saw this lovely wooden house on a farm path. The owner told me they loved the way it blended into its surroundings and they loved the view. I could only agree

I found this observatory in the hills. I googled it and found that it is now disused, but had been operated by Edinburgh University

Heading into the trees of the Cloich Hills

The forests are unsurprisingly more and more conniferous as my latitude escalates

Those are the Pentland Hills. I'll have to find a way across them for the next leg!

One finds such surprising things on foot! On this A-road, at the village sign, a flower pot. Some-one got it into their head to find the bowl, drag it to the edge of the village, fill it with soil and flowers and leave it to welcome strangers. It would have been almost invisible from a car. Why do it?

Close to my destination. The fellow on the right identified me straight up as a LEJOGer!

A lovely minor road through the woods just short of Carlops