Day 52: Scotland

Distance: 18.0 miles
Days-late: 1

Sorry for being a day late on the post. I should have been writing this last night, but the telly had both snooker and a crazy game show ("can you beat The Cube?"). What could I do? At least they weren't showing darts too - I'd have never gone to sleep! By the time I was ready to write it was late, I was tired, and knowing the next day is a rest day, I decided to procrastinate.


Our bog avoidance strategy described in the last post worked out perfectly. Kate, who runs the Byrness Hotel, left some cereal and milk out for us so we could get up early, and be on the road before breakfast time. We were walking the A68 before seven o'clock. As we'd hoped, that early on a Saturday there was hardly any traffic. We walked through another grey misty day past the Catcleugh reservoir (that's the picture above) and past our last cloud covered English hill.


We walked a long uphill to the pass at Carter Bar, rounded the top, saw heather in the hills, heard pipers piping, and walked into Scotland! Well, not really, there were no pipers. But there was a cool big rock.


By the end of our nine miles on the A68 the road was getting busier, and we were happy when we were able to get off of it. We walked down a track, and found ourselves in front of this place, Edgerston House.


It was built by the Rutherford Clan back in the 1695. They were able to keep up the house, and keep improving it, despite some serious fights with the English, and other clans. It wasn't until they had to do battle with the tax man that they lost the house, selling it in 1921. It was sold again, probably to somebody pretty rich, in 1980. It's s pretty sweet place. The back yard includes its own small loch.


Navigating in Scotland is a bit different than we're used to. In England, the maps have dashed green lines that mean "public right of way"; we planned our walk to follow these lines. The law says that the land owners have to allow paths along these rights of way. But in Scotland, instead of right-of-way laws, there are right-to-roam laws. As I understand, you can basically walk anywhere you like, as long as you don't get in the way or break anything. In theory that sounds great, but in practice it means that the maps don't have green lines. Instead, there are paths and tracks marked, but all the marks mean is that a path or track was there at the time this area was last surveyed; by now things may have changed. So picking out a path is more difficult. And we're not sure how to handle some situations on the ground. In England, it's clear: if there is a right of way, you can go there. But I don't know how things work here. For example, in from the Edgerston House we were exercising our right to roam (ok, we were lost), and figured out that we needed to walk down the path by the loch, and that would get us back to our track. But across the path was a sign, "private". What to do? There was no one around, so we just went anyway - but I'm still confused about how right-to-roam and "private" fit together here.


Here's some crazy looking Scottish skull-head sheep looking our way. They freaked Dawn out, "creepiest sheep ever!"


We also came across a herd of highland cows with calves. The cows we're used to are docile, slow moving things, with a special respect for Dawn, so we feel safe around them. But these cows were downright frisky, the whole herd moved from place to place at a pretty good trot. More like how I think of bison moving than cows. They kept looking at us, then running somewhere, then looking at us some more. A herd of big, really big, animals with big, really big, horns is scary when they're moving fast and looking at you! We tried to look non threatening, made sure not to get between any cows and calves, and got through their pasture as quick as we could while they thundered to and fro.


The look of the countryside changed when we crested the pass from England into Scotland. North of Hadrian's wall, England is a sparsely populated, wild, and rugged place. So far, the Scottish Borders is gentler and greener, with smaller rolling hills, and more people.


Jedburgh is a beautiful town, and made for my favorite rest day so far. There's a lot of history here, so we picked out the two things we wanted to see: the Mary Queen of Scots house and museum, and the Jedburgh Abbey. Mary only stayed in the house here for a month, but her visit is still to this day a super big deal here. The house is a three story monolith, built to withstand attack, since back in the sixteenth century rival clans, or, worse, the English, would come calling from time to time.


It's been converted to a museum all about the life of Mary Stuart. Really well done and super interesting. The only bad part is that a bus load of old people got dumped in for a half hour or so, clogging up the stairs and small rooms. They were speaking some language that I didn't understand - we think it might have been Danish.


I love the dancing King dude in this close up of a seventeenth century needlework thingy. It was in the museum because Mary's hobbies included needlepoint, dealing with Scottish nobility, and scheming to claim the throne of England. Though that all ended with Elizabeth I imprisoned her for 19 years and then had her beheaded. Apparently, the beheading took swings of the axe. According to a report taken at the scene, the first cut worked, "saving one piece of gristle". The things you learn at a museum! I also learned that the first thing you do with a severed head is take an impression, and make a mask. Here's Mary's:


The Jedburgh Abbey was a beautiful serene ruined abbey. The thing that really struck me is that the church, spectacular even in ruin, took 120 years to build, and that's typical for many of the big old buildings we've seen. So not only did the designer not see the results of his design, even his children wouldn't see it completed.


Here's me and one of the brothers, contemplating this sort of deep mystery.


I guess on account of the rain and early hour, Dawn and I were the only ones in the Abbey this morning. It was something to have that space all to ourselves. Dawn noticed a railing up high, and then a door to a spiral staircase that you could use to climb to the first level up. The stairs were tight and claustrophobic for a tall guy like me, but we went up and checked it out.


Tomorrow, we are back to walking! I hope the weather improves, the grey rain is getting a little old. I'd love to see some more of our March sunshine!

Location:Oxnam Rd,Jedburgh,United Kingdom

Day 51: Byrness

Distance: 14.9 miles
Dips in the bog: zero

English walkers have a weird relationship with bogs. They all profess to hate walking through them, yet the crown jewel of English footpaths, the Pennine Way, runs smack through some of the boggiest terrain in the country. Ask them about bogs, and many will tell you about terrible experiences going in up to their waist, smiling all the time. Today we heard a story about a midget who fell face first into a boggy pool, and survived only when a nearby walker spotted a floating rucksack and pulled him to safety. "Bogs are dangerous - you can get trapped in quicksand and die", they tell you gleefully.


We don't share this peculiar fascination with bog walking. We'd gotten a taste of it on Friday the thirteenth, and since then we've had nothing but rain, so id guess the bogs have gone from bad to worse. We owe many thanks to commenter Ken Klug for pointing out that the most boggy paths he encountered on his lejog were on the Pennine Way north of Hadrian's Wall - the same route we have planned. As a result of his comment, I spent part of our rest day going over the maps of our route. Sure enough, the highlighted path from Bellingham (yesterday) to Jedburgh (tomorrow) had long stretches surrounded by the little reed symbols that mean "this might suck". With help from Ken and our Bellingham host, Mr Gaskin, we worked out an alternate route for today that stuck to lanes and forest tracks - no bogs.


Around 11:00 we came across a walker going the other way. He looked a little like a younger, less pale, more fit, Ron Paul with a substantial rucksack, and well worn boots. He was another end to ender, but walking in the other direction. He'd been on the Pennine Way yesterday, the part currently in our plan for tomorrow, and said it was very wet, slow, and unpleasant. He lost the track at times, and the whole thing added hours to his time.

Unfortunately, tomorrow we have only two choices. One is the route we'd planned, through the bogs. We really don't want that. But the only other way out of Byrness is a busy road, the A68, which we'll need to walk for about 6 miles before we can duck onto smaller roads and paths. We've walked along A roads before, but never for more than a few hundred yards. Always it's been terrifying: loads of traffic, right up close, on the wrong side of the road, moving at a million miles an hour. So we've decided that to minimize our chance of death, we will wake up super early and try to get our A road miles in at sunrise, hopefully before the traffic gets heavy. It's Saturday tomorrow so hopefully traffic at six a.m. will be light.


When we woke up this morning, it was grey and raining. It stayed that way through a delicious breakfast (Dawn: scrambled egg on toast; Al: fried egg, sausage, bacon, fried mushrooms, fried tomato, beans, and toast). We loitered a while, hoping for improvement, but, seeing none, ventured out into the cold dreary rain. After an hour or so, we didn't talk, just walk along, Dawn in front, me listening to the rat-a-tat-tat on my hat getting louder as the rain got heavier. Then Dawn turns around and says, with complete sincerity, "It's so nice being here walking with you". I'm not sure if she was rain-mad or what, but it was really nice and I'll take it.


The rain finally eased up around noon, and stopped altogether just as we got to the threshold of the Keidler forest. We celebrated by eating the cheese, buns, and posh crisps we'd bought on our way out of Bellingham. Dawn, a student of Liz Lemon's guide to life, put her chips directly into the sandwich.


The last six miles to Byrness were along a dirt and sometimes gravel track through a pine forest. There were times when it felt a lot like walking along a logging road through a second or third growth forest in the Oregon coastal range.


Today was our last full day in England. At the end of our six miles on the A road, we will cross the border fence, and we'll be in Scotland!


And one more thing: Happy Birthday, Finn!!!

Location:Byrness, Northumberland, UK

Day 50: Bellingham

Distance: 14.4 miles
Sheep: lots
Beer: 1 pint

Yesterday, we enjoyed a relaxing rest day at Grindon Farm. Our room was in the old cartshed. They've converted it into 3 bedrooms, a kitchen and a beautiful living room with a wall of windows. It was the perfect place for a day off. And it wasn't just any day. Our darling daughter, Erin, turned 21! It was a little sad not to be with her, but we got to talk on the phone and wish her a happy birthday and good luck on the exam she had to write.

Today, the forecast said 100% chance of rain. It rained most of yesterday, so not really a surprise. We headed back to the Wall and headed east.

I should take a minute to explain our last post. It described our day from Haltwhistle to Grindon Farm, but through the eyes of Antonius. For those who aren't from Corvallis, Antonius is our friend Tony Rinaldi, the most Roman looking person we know. I'm sure those of you who know him can totally see him as a Roman centurion or envision his profile on a coin.

Now back to today. We said goodbye to the farm's super cute Ryeland lambs.


The sky's were threatening, but only drizzling. We headed east along the path of Hadrian's Wall, but unlike the section we saw the other day, there is nothing left here. Although there are a lot of farm walls with some very square stones.


After a few miles, we turned north and headed towards Bellingham (pronounced Bellin-jum here). Our only dicey bit came when we had to cross a footbridge over a little stream. The recent rains made that a bit of a challenge.


After a few attempts, Al found a route through the flooded field that got us over the bridge. I chose poorly and nearly sunk into the mire several times before I escaped from that route.

The rest of the day was pretty unexciting. We picked our way along footpaths over farm fields, lanes and a B road. Ate lunch in the church yard in Wark.

We had one entertaining encounter with some sheep that we came upon on a farm lane. Instead of pulling over to the side and waiting for us to pass, they kept running away from us down the lane.


We tried to stay way over the side, but they would just stop, look back, see us still there and keep going. This went on for half a kilometre until we reached the gate across the lane, at which point, they went over to the side and let us pass. Sheep are kinda stupid.



Tonight we went for fish and chips at the pub down the street from our B&B. There were a bunch of locals hanging out at the bar chatting and I couldn't understand half of what they were saying. It's the first time an accent has been incomprehensible on our whole trip. I don't expect it will get any better as we head into Scotland.

Tomorrow we head to Byrness, our last stop in England!

Day 49: Hadrian's Wall

Distance: XII miles
Date: AD CLXXVI

Antonius Rinaldus woke early. He'd long anticipated this day, when he would set eyes on the very edge of the civilized world. Antonius was eager to get underway, but his hosts had prepared a fine full Britainnic breakfast, and he was not one to turn down a good meal, so he sat for an hour through three courses: cold food, hot food, and some kind of heated charred bread, covered in a tangy orange flavored paste, and washed down with hot coffee. He walked out into a windy, rainy, morning, dropped down to the river, and headed upstream, north, towards the frontier. After less than an hour's walk, the rain eased, the weather brightened, and he caught his first glimpse of The Wall.


There it was, stretching out along the crest of the Whin Sill. Just to the left was Cawfield quarry, the source of the squared stones used for the buildings along the wall, and sides of the wall itself. Straight ahead was milepost 42, where Antonius knew he'd find a dozen or so men, grumpy about their cramped living conditions and lack of good food. He decided to turn a little to the right and join the wall east of the Milecastle.


Antonius, being a man of letters, knew that the wall was built a half century earlier, after Emperor Hadrian himself had visited this remote backwater. Hadrian decided that the limit of the empire would be here, along a 76 mile line from sea to sea. He decreed that a wall be constructed, 10 feet wide, to clearly separate civilization from the barbarians. The wall would be manned by thousands of troops, whose job it was to keep the marauders to the north out. Gateways, like Milecastle 42, would be placed at intervals of exactly one mile. Merchants and farmers could pass through at these places - after they'd paid the appropriate taxes.


The wall itself was in remarkably good condition - even after 50 years. It had been built to last. The core was clay and rubble, with some mortar, on a foundation of stone slabs. The faces were rough squared stones, bonded by mortar, with pointed tails to tie them to the core. The mortar is what made the whole process so expensive. To make the mortar required lime, which in turn required kilns, where chunks of limestone were burned in a hot charcoal fire - an expensive process that took several weeks. Transporting barrels of water from far off rivers for mortal and clay was another logistical hurdle. Antonius was justifiably proud of what his father's fathers had accomplished.


The wall itself was only the most visible sign of the empire's limit. The real barriers were the ditches on either side, the cleared land between the ditches and the wall, and of course the troops. So the wall didn't need to be high. In most places it was low enough so that even the shortest centurion could peer over the top.


Shortly after turning east, Antonius encountered a fellow Roman tending the wall, applying a magic balm to the base in order to keep weeds from growing, and defacing this great symbol of Rome.


Walking along up there, with the wind howling, the skies darkened by clouds, looking at the vast country to the north, it really did feel like the edge of the world. Antonius looked south, where he could see farms nearby. That was the direction of Rome, of home. From this cold lonely spot he thought of his villa, his olive grove, and his beautiful wife Donna, indulging his need to travel, and waiting patiently for his return. He thought of his daughter, Nina, traveling to Aegyptus to study their strange tongue, and his kind and gentle son, Antonius the Younger, who once lived peacefully with the savage tribes of Germania.


Thoughts of home warmed him, even with the cold north wind. He moved on, walking up and down, following the wall. The hills were steep, and the wall showed no mercy, going straight to the top of every one.


The centurions stationed at the Milecastles were friendlier than Antonius was expecting. They welcomed a friendly Roman face and appreciated news of home. When they heard that Antonius was the personal physician to the emperor, Marcus Aurelius, they were enthralled, and brought out bread and wine. Antonius would have liked to stay, but he needed to keep moving. He was expected at Vircovicium before nightfall.


At Milecastle 37, Antonius looked directly through the arched doorway toward Caledonia, with not even the wall between him and that strange and forbidding land. The sight was enough to frighten any Roman: a world beyond the empire. Antonius steeled himself, and worked to overcome his fear. He knew that soon, he'd be in that land.


For Antonius knew the promise of Caledonia. He was not only the physician to Marcus Aurelius, he was a close confidante. The emperor had shared with him stories of a potent medicine from beyond the limit of empire, a golden elixir that helped you overcome any obstacle: the water of life.


On the horizon now, Vercovicium came into view. The fort held nearly a thousand soldiers, and the surrounding town a thousand people. Here could be found many of the comforts of home. Antonius was particularly excited at the thought of proper Roman latrines!


Antonius was staying just south and east of the fort. He walked along Stanegate, a fine straight road, like all the Roman roads. He found his inn quickly enough. Out front a stone wall fenced in a small yard containing two frolicking lambs. He smacked his lips, thinking of the fine dinner that awaited him.


Tomorrow, Antonius will be heading back to the wall, where he'll walk east to Milecastle 31, then through the gate and north, into the land of the barbarians. There his quest for the water of life will start in earnest. All he has to guide him are stories and a name: "Glenmorangie".

Location:Vercovicium, Brittainia, Imperium Romanum

Day 48: The South Tyne Trail

Distance: 15.1 miles
Sponsors: the letter W, and the number 5
Yesterday evening Dawn's red eye came back, so we walked to the local town hospital to have it looked at. The Ruth Lancaster James hospital is just
Iike the community hospital in Downton Abbey, except without Matthew's super annoying mother running about. The nurse seemed very competent, looking in Dawn's eyes with a little flashlight, and asking many questions. She couldn't come up with anything, and advised we come back in the morning to see a doctor. We did. In the morning, I stayed in the waiting room and chatted with Michael Caine's illegitimate son (he had what sounded to me like a Caine accent, and looked a bit like Caine, so I just assumed the rest). Dawn went to see the doctor; she trusted him because of his tweed jacket and wirerim spectacles. He ruled out all the potential bad stuff, and concluded that probably something mysterious had just irritated that eye. Maybe two days of strong cold wind blowing on that side while walking. He thought it would likely improve on its own, and, as of now, that seems to be happening. Later, Dawn briefly consulted with Dr Crazy Horn and his colleagues; they also agreed that the eye was going to be ok.




Having lived in America for 18 years, we've been trained that to see a doctor you need to fill out pages and forms, and go through long debates with your insurance company. It was a pleasure being back in a country where there seems to be more effort put into taking care of you than in filling out paperwork. We asked about payment, and they just waved us out and told us to have a nice walk. Thank you, English doctors, for being there when we needed you! We'd hate to rely solely on these fat head sheep for medical help.




The doctor visit added a couple of miles this morning (to and from the hospital) and set us up with a late start. So we revised our route to compensate. Instead of taking the Pennine Way 15 miles northwest to Hadrian's Wall, we carved off a couple of miles and walked 13 miles on the South Tyne Trail northeast to the town of Haltwhistle, stopping a couple of miles short of the Wall. And instead of walking up and down over rocky ground and bogs on the Pennine Way, we spent the whole day today on a rails to trails conversion project. For the first half, we walked next to a restored small gauge track where they pull cars of tourists behind steam engines.




Unfortunately, the engines were not running today. The picture above was taken yesterday, when we arrived at Alston. Even though it was the end of the day, when I saw a steam engine pulling in I ran through through the station so I could get a picture. The nameplate on this cute little blue engine says "Helen Kathryn". I can just hear Sir Toppam Hatt: "Helen, you have done excellent work today pulling all those children back and forth". "You are a very useful engine!". Helen beamed with delight.




We saw lots of signs along the tracks as we walked along. Inexplicably, most of them were either this sign




Or this one




Always five, always W.




After a few miles, the track ended, but the walking path continued. I think it's safe to say that we enjoyed the easy walking and pleasant country side of our path more than we would have enjoyed the wilder Pennine Way path over bogs and rocks. There's plenty who seek out the most challenging possible way to get from place to place, and it seems the Pennine Way is made for those people. Us, we enjoy being able to look around, and talk with each other, and not be always worried about breaking our ankles or filling our boots with muck.




The big highlight of the day was Dawn's clean bill of eye-health. Second was the 300 yard long, 100 foot high Lambley viaduct.




I just can't get enough of this sort of Victorian engineering. The viaduct carried trains from 1852 till 1976. After almost 20 years of neglect and decay, it was renovated in 1996 and now carries walkers like us.




We walked the trail right to the end, where it dumped us out a short stroll to our B&B. Turned out that switching up the route not only gave us an easy trail, and a shorter day, but we also ended up with some pretty sweet place to stay. So everything is working out.




Tomorrow is a piece of the walk I've been looking forward to for months: 10 miles along Hadrian's Wall. The bad news is that the weatherman is telling us to expect strong winds and pelting rain. We'll watch the weather radar and try to time our departure to avoid the worst of it.

Location:Lanty's Lonnen, Haltwhistle, United Kingdom