Drow 'n' Smirr

Whita Hill: 1.5 miles 33mins 87m ascent
R&R Wilton Dean 2.9 miles  1h 28min  89m ascent

On our previous R&R outing we reached the place we had thought was the end of the trail only to find R&R signposts pointing onwards. We had followed the signs, but uncertain how far we had to walk, had turned back for the car. This outing was our foray to find the actual End. Unbeknownst to us, we had only been 1.2 miles from the end of the trail when we turned back.

Because this section of the walk was to start in a park, I thought the dogs might have to be on leads when we got out of the car so decided a short walk somewhere a bit wilder, off their leads, would let them blow off a little steam and make the lead walking a little easier. Since we had to drive through Langholm I though it would be an opportunity to walk on Whita Hill and visit the MacDairmid Memorial and the Malcolm Monument.

The MacDairmid Memorial, a steel and bronze structure in the shape of a giant book, recalls the poet Hugh MacDairmid, born in Langholm, who was a joint founder of the National Party of Scotland (a forerunner of the SNP, for whom he stood as a candidate). A nearby cairn has a plaque inscribed with some of the his verse and  explains that the memorial shows representations from his poetical works.

MacDairmid Memorial

In looking through some of his poetry I came across this piece, “Scotland, small?” which I had read before without realising it was MacDairmid’s:

Scotland small? Our multiform, our infinite Scotland small?
Only as a patch of hillside may be a cliché corner
To a fool who cries ‘Nothing but heather!’ where in September another
Sitting there and resting and gazing around
Sees not only the heather but blaeberries
With bright green leaves and leaves already turned scarlet,
Hiding ripe blue berries; and amongst the sage-green leaves
Of the bog-myrtle the golden flowers of the tormentil shining;
And on the small bare places, where the little Blackface sheep
Found grazing, milkworts blue as summer skies;
And down in neglected peat-hags, not worked
Within living memory, sphagnum moss in pastel shades
Of yellow, green, and pink; sundew and butterwort
Waiting with wide-open sticky leaves for their tiny winged prey;
And nodding harebells vying in their colour
With the blue butterflies that poise themselves delicately upon them;
And stunted rowans with harsh dry leaves of glorious colour.
‘Nothing but heather!’ ̶ How marvellously descriptive! And incomplete!
– Hugh MacDiarmid

So true. There is much to see on the moors, and much so easily overlooked.

From the giant book we looked northwards where a bank of rain stood across the valley of Ewes Water, then set off along the track towards the Obelisk hoping the rain wasn’t coming our way. But within five minutes it was upon us and, rather than rain, it was hail in a freezing wind. I’d like to be dramatic and say the hail was horizontal, but it was a good third of a radian off the horizontal. The direction was just right for Audrey’s pockets which, left open, filled with hail. I trudged on, head down, but the dogs didn’t seem to mind the weather.

Malcolm Monument, Whita Hill

There were benches for rest, and contemplation of the views, on the way up and near the monument itself but the freezing hail limited the views and kept us moving. The Malcolm Monument is a hundred foot obelisk, described in some reports as granite and in others as white sandstone. It commemorates General Sir John Malcolm and had another famous local, Thomas Telford, involved in its construction. Given the weather our examination of the monument was necessarily rather brisk.

By the time we had walked back down to the car the hail had passed so I presume our timing had been particularly unlucky to have us walking just when the hail was falling.

Having packed the dogs back into the car we set off for Hawick and found a place to park  in Wilton Lodge Park. We headed back to the western entrance where we had seen our last Romans and Reivers signpost and walked along the riverside path, the dogs dipping down into the river at times. The grassy banks here were spotted with bright yellow lesser celandine, easily outnumbering the dandelions. There were daisies as ever but the wood anemones were also doing their bit for white petals.

Cala Burn Waterfall

We reached the bench dedicated to the Dunlops, which was as far as we went on our last visit, and set off into the unknown. This took us further along the riverside path until we took a brief detour into the ornamental gardens of Wilton Lodge. There are a few things to see in the park: a bandstand, ornamental water fountains, statutes to Steve Hislop (1962-2003), and Jimmy Guthrie (1897-1937), two locally born motorcycle stars, a waterfall on the Cala Burn and a War Memorial.

Steve Hislop’s statute

The War Memorial is well placed to allow quiet contemplation, and its stark inscription “The Glorious Dead” invites the classically read to shed a tear.

Still in short intervals of pleasing woe.
Regardful of the friendly dues I owe,
I to the glorious dead, for ever dear!
Indulge the tribute of a grateful tear.
– Alexander Pope’s translation of the Odyssey

Beyond the gardens we came back to the riverside path, the park narrowing to the iron gates at its entrance. The banks here were filled with flowers, primroses, bluebells of various hues, grape hyacinth, lesser periwinkle, daffodil and narcissus. Photographs made somewhat difficult by the dogs inclination to check out (read “run all over”) anything we give any attention to

Beyond the park entrance we found a Romans and Reivers sign pointing back the way we had come and not pointing onwards. We took this to be the end of the trail and posed for our photos.

The end of the R&R

We made our way back walking through Violet Wood, but saw no violets in the wood. (Though we did notice some beside the A7 when driving home.)

Lesser Celandine

So that is the Romans and Reivers Trail completed. 57.7 miles on the trail and 75.4 miles altogether. We walked in sunshine, snow, hail, mist and rain; on tarmac, grass, rock, heather, mud, and slurry; from the season of the snowdrop to that of the celandine; from Ae in Dumfries and Galloway over the watershed to Hawick in the Scottish Borders; through the haunts of centurions, infamous reivers, famous poets, and long dead covenanters; buzzed by swans, we encountered ancient burial barrows, pre-historic earthworks, broad leafed and conifer forests, a cave of sorrows, snow-covered moors, hares, deer, ponies, lambs, stone lions, sheep skulls, rainbows, giant carved newts, Roman roads, Symbol stones, Buddhist prayers; memorials to lives lost to lightning, plane crashes, helicopter crashes, motorcycle accidents and in wars; we crossed the Witch’s Wate without mishap, walked the Crooked Road without twisting an ankle, and found a very welcome footbridge across Borthwick Water where we thought we might need to go a-wading. 

The Romans and Reivers team 2016: Mike, Audrey, Sweep, and Eddie
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10.9 miles 5h 1m  ascent 361m

The quarry near Camp Burn to the Dunlop bench in Hawick

“It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters, in the end.”
― Ernest Hemingway

This was to be the final leg of our Romans and Reivers walk. The sky was blue and cloudless when I left home, 6° according to the car, but by the time we started to walk, the clouds had gathered and the wind was cold enough to freeze the rain as it fell. In the minutes it took to get the dogs out of the car and pull the rucksack onto my back, the cold had numbed my fingers despite gloves, and it would be 45 minutes before I had my extremities warm again. I blame the numb fingers for not replacing my lens cap properly, losing it twice, and the smears on the lower part of my photos.

In the cold wind which, little did we know, was to become much colder, we headed along the Roberton road, with Borthwick Water to our left, watched by sheep that trotted off with their lambs in tow as we drew nearer, and the dogs criss-crossing their paths to tangle their leads. A milestone indicated 8 miles to Hawick but our route was to add another couple of miles to that number.

The lens cap replaced after the milestone was missing by the time we left the road at Muselee so we retraced our steps. Audrey’s eyes must be better than mine because she spotted the lost cap that I didn’t see on the way back to or from the milestone.

At Muselee the R&R leaves the road to climb onto the hill beside Muselee Burn. A recurring theme of this section was to be gates set across churned mud, and this was our first example. I suspect, had we not had dogs with us, we could have avoided the worst of the mud by climbing the gates, but dogs we had, so muddy we got.

Looking back to Muselee Bridge

The initial climb was along a walled muddy track and we were faced with a flock of sheep being driven down toward us. We stood with the dogs on short leashes while they passed. The sheep-dog, however, was too interested, came along to have a sniff, and wasn’t for returning to the farmer, who had to get out of his vehicle to retrieve his dog.

The climb up Muselee Hill, gentle as it was, heated me enough to improve the circulation to my hands but also overheated me enough to require the shedding of some layers. When Broadlea Loch came into view we knew that we would be turning left. So when we came upon a faint track we took it, and for once there wasn’t an R&R sign to guide us. A little further along the track seemed to fork and we chose the right (but incorrect) path which soon looked less like a path and more like the earthwork it actually was.

Ancient earthwork

This earthwork is 500m long, 3.5m wide and 0.6m deep, its age and purpose unknown. It is thought to be a prehistoric boundary marker of some kind since it is not substantial enough to be used for defensive purposes. From the vantage point of the earthwork we consulted to map and compass and then made our way back to the moorland track which we should have followed.

The squelchy moss of the track was temporarily replaced by a more substantial metalled path, presumably because the original had become too boggy. We were buzzed by a swan from a loch to our right (not marked on the OS map). Its wing beats were eerily audible, and its flight was presumably aimed at warning us off. It was nice to see it in flight.

At the low point of the moorland we forded the Wood Burn, a helpfully situated rock allowing us to keep our feet dry, and then began a gentle climb. The metalled track petered out and we continued on what appeared to be the right route which took us to a fence line with Branxholme Wester Loch about 0.5km beyond it.

We followed the fence line over Birnie Knowe with its low cairn (more like a campfire than a cairn actually) and then down to the minor road. The R&R route apparently only stays with the fence for 100m or so, then forks left and joins the minor road about 100m further along from us. There was no visible track along there at least as far as we could see and there hadn’t been any R&R signs where we parted company from the route, though there was a sign on the minor road.

We were back in sunshine as we walked down this minor road, passing the entrance for the Chisholm Institute, and bemoaning the loss of elevation that would have to be repaid in effort later. I stopped briefly to photograph some daffodils only to have Eddie demonstrate his jumping prowess by leaping atop the wall, requiring some care in getting him off without getting tangled in the wire fence hanging below the wall.

Chisholm beech wood

There is a gate and signpost where the R&R leaves the road to climb through a young beech wood. Having gained much of the lost height we emerged from the wood to join the Chisholm Institute’s driveway near a carved bench.

The driveway took us past the imposing buildings and continued along a minor road with fields to the left and woodland to the right. Near the big house I had noticed a carpet of blue flowers beneath the trees and thought at first these were bluebells, but the flowers seemed too small and it was a little early yet for bluebells (we have some not yet fully open at home). These flowers were something I hadn’t seen before, and took some effort to identify. They were glory-of-the-snow.

Glory-of-the-snow

A post office van (HK9) passed us as we crossed Churnton Burn. It can only have been going to Parkhill Farm and it passed us again as it escaped. At the farm it was unclear which way we should go but we then spotted an R&R plaque on one of the gates. This gate and several that followed it gave our boots a good muddying as we passed from one sheep and lamb filled field into another.

My plan had been to stop for a break above Roberton and read Ogilvy’s poem, “Road to Roberton” but the weather changed, after a few snow flakes the wind picked up, the temperature dropped and then we were pelted with hail. So rather than a pause for poetic outpourings I put my jacket and hat back on and walked along head down.

A definite, well “just discernible” would be more accurate, path wound around the descent to Borthwick Water, but we continued directly on, as does the R&R. The changeable weather changed back to sunshine as we approached the river and I developed a growing concern that there would not be a bridge.

At the river was an R&R sign pointing directly across it, and a gate on the far side. A yellow arrow, presumably a riding route indicator, pointed right. I looked that way and there was no bridge to be seen. The river was calm enough and not too deep to wade but it would be five or six miles further walking soaked from boot to thigh. Perhaps we could cross barefoot and keep our boots dry? I remembered having to carry Eddie for a previous water crossing and wondered how he would manage this time. Oh dear.

At the river, having pondered while looking right, I looked left. A rusty contraption, which I took to be a pipeline, crossed the river. Could we cross on that? My eyes ran along the ground towards it and it looked to have been walked by others. I looked at the pipeline again and realised it was in fact a footbridge. Our dry river crossing was secured.

Footbridge over Borthwick Water

The bridge has narrow entrances each end, such that only the svelte may pass, but we proved svelte enough. I paused on the Roberton side of the bridge to take off my jacket and take some photos. And somehow managed to lose a lens cap yet again.

Across the boggy field and we had the Glen Burn to cross. Here I noticed my lens cap was missing again so we squelched back and found it. The burn ford was too deep and wide for a dry crossing, so we walked up towards the church, across a field dotted with the yellow stars of lesser celandine, looking for another way out of the field. Unfortunately we were walled in, so we headed back and found a narrower section of the stream with some stones to step on. The humans crossed dry and the dogs splashed through the water.

Roberto Kirk

Above the field we found one of the rare gates without mud and stepped through and onto the B711. A signpost here included such places as Blawearie so I felt obliged to get the poem out and read it, the atmosphere slightly spoiled by the whining of dogs unhappy because we had stopped walking.

The hill road to Roberton: Ale Water at our feet,
And grey hills and blue hills that melt away and meet,
With cotton-flowers that wave to us and lone whaups that call,
And over all the Border mist – the soft mist over all.

When Scotland married England long, long ago,
The winds spun a wedding-veil of moonlight and snow,
A veil of filmy silver that sun and rain had kissed,
And she left it to the Border in a soft grey mist.

And now the dreary distance doth wear it like a bride,
Out beyond the Langhope Burn and over Essenside,
By Borthwick Wa’s and Redfordgreen and on to wild Buccleuch
And up the Ettrick Water, till it fades into the blue.

The winding road to Roberton is little marked of wheels,
And lonely past Blawearie runs the track to Borthwickshiels,
Whitslade is slumbering undisturbed and down in Harden Glen
The tall trees murmur in their dreams of Wat’s mosstrooping men.

A distant glint of silver, that is Ale’s last goodbye,
Then Greatmoor and Windburgh against a purple sky,
The long line of the Carter, Teviotdale flung wide,
And a slight stir in the heather – a wind from the English side.

The hill road to Roberton’s a steep road to climb,
But where your foot has crushed it you can smell the scented thyme,
And if your heart’s a Border heart, look down to Harden Glen,
And hear the blue hills ringing with the restless hoofs again.
 ― William H. Ogilvie

Mosstroopers are reivers and Wat who is referred to was the infamous reiver, Walter Scott of Harden. I have mentioned him before in the blog when writing about Dryhope Tower, which was where his wife Mary, the flower of Yarrow was from. She is said to have served him a pair of spurs on a plate for his supper as a way of telling him he should get out and steal some more cows if he wanted to eat. More on Auld Watt here.

The word “mosstrooper” had been playing on my mind since reading that poem, and at last I have realised why. When I was a whippersnapper, sitting at home, at a bit of a loose end, I received a phone call from an ex-girlfriend’s older sister, a budding matchmaker, to suggest I go out for a drink that evening. She recommended a particular pub. You guessed it, The Moss Trooper. My mind can now stop its search for mosstrooper associations.

B711

The B711 proved to be quite a busy road and we found ourselves gathering up the dogs and stepping off the road many times as vehicles passed. It must be a local tradition to maintain maximum speed when driving past a a group of people with dogs cowering by the roadside. A post office van passed us but it was not the one from Parkhill (HK4 this time).

I had read that a 1m, 6th or 7th century symbol stone stood near the buildings at Borthwickmains, so we took special care to look for it. We were able to spot it through the hedge but it looked to be in a private garden so we couldn’t inspect it any more closely.

As we passed the road to Harden Glen I recalled some of the stories about Wat of Harden, and mused that the R&R could do with some information boards about characters such as this. Though I also wonder how much time must pass for a murderous thieving bastard to morph into a “colourful” historical character and whether we should be glorifying such people’s antics.

The R&R leaves the B711 at a cottage a little beyond Highchesters. After a short stretch of track, the route entered fields and we endured a few more gates through mud. We could see the track we were to join, but a recently ploughed field stood between us and it, as well as a dry-stone dyke topped with an electric wire.

Gorse covered Wiltonburn hill

Things were not as bad as they seemed though. A gate (more mud) took us to a strip of unploughed lad crossing the ploughed field. Here we could use a stile (minimal mud) or gate (much mud), but the dogs don’t do stiles particularly well so mud it was. This though took us to a firm farm track which we followed to Wiltonburn.

This was were I thought the R&R finished, so we had our “end of walk” photoshoot, by the Wiltonburn signs. I also considered it possible that the R&R ended where the Borders Drove road route branched off 300m further along the track so photos there might be needed. As we walked on the weather changed back to bitingly cold wind with hail, which somewhat reduced the photo possibilities.

Not the end

At the junction, we found a R&R sign pointing on further, so it would appear that the R&R has been extended. We followed the signs which took us along beside the River Teviot. This had us walking away from the car parked which we had parked near Martin’s Bridge, without any certainty as to how far we would need to walk. Perhaps on a nice day we would have pressed on.

Hail

So it was that our “last section” of the Romans and Reivers Way didn’t take us to its end. At a riverside bench dedicated to Jim and Sheila Dunlop we turned about and headed back towards the car. The final walk along the minor road beside the river gave us some additional flowers to see. There were clumps of opened lesser celandine, carpets of wild garlic (not yet in flower) below the trees, numerous butterbur (which was new for me), as well as dandelion, daisy, wood anemone, daffodils and primrose. If Snowdrops were the flower of the start of this route, lesser celandine were the theme at the end.

Lesser Celandine

I would like to think that that is the R&R completed, and that is certainly how Audrey sees it, but it looks as though number 13 of Paths around Hawick, “The Teviot, Wilton Lodge Park, and Violet Woods”, has been annexed to the R&R and I know that sooner or later I will have to walk those last few miles, whatever Hemingway may say.

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7.8 miles 3h 10m ascent 320m

Craik forest circular via the quarry near Camp Burn

Lesser celandine, primrose, daisy, larches, Borthwick Water, wee dog, hail and wind.

This is a short straightforward section. We had 13 miles of the R&R left and decided to split it, so this was a little under 4 miles of R&R walked eastwards and then westwards.

There were heavy rain showers requiring waterproofs and on the way back we were walking into hail filled wind. We hadn’t realised how cold the wind was until we had it in our faces.

Houses at Craik

We started at the Craik Forest car park and followed the R&R signs which took across a full Aithouse Burn. The OS map has the R&R turning left here but it actually continues straight ahead on a farm track between some houses. there is a gate directly ahead but the route skirts around rather than crossing this field.

The track then climbed a little to give us views back along Borthwick Water’s valley before reaching the trees. Much of the walk is lined by larches, which are orange with new growth but have buds that will soon turn green as they sprout new needles.

Young Larches

The route undulates a little as it climbs from lower ground and burns before climbing up the next, but never steeply. The Dirthope Burn was full and prevented us following the signed route, but a footbridge allowed us across with dry feet and only a minor detour. I suspect the footbridge is the “new” route.

Where the R&R meets the Dirthope Burn

Once out of the forests the dogs went back on leads and we crossed Borthwick Water to walk along the Craik Road as far as the small quarry, passing the waterfall on Camp Burn.

Camp Burn waterfall

Retraced as steps back along the same route, but returning was a different experience with the wind and hail in our face. We noticed some flowers that we had missed on the outward leg, some unopened lesser celandine (a harbinger of Spring according to A), a single clump  of primroses and, close by the car park, a single, rather bedraggled daisy.

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