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| St Cuthbert's Way route |
The Logistics
The tidal causeway at Holy Island was going to be the thing that dictated the trip. If I was to travel W-E on the more traditional direction, I would be under pressure to beat the tide. Perhaps if I was racing that might be a good thing, and infact I think there is an Ultra race that does just that. I felt there would be more control if I was to start at Holy Island and travel west ending at Melrose where there was no tide!
On the way out, I could get the early train to Berwick and then a bus to Holy Island. To return home, there were hourly trains to Waverley from Tweedbank close to Melrose. For accommodation, I chose the conveniently located Border Hotel in Kirk Yetholm which was just short of halfway between Holy Island and Melrose. At the quarter points, was the Wooler co-op for resupply, and on day two, the Woodside Garden Centre. Everything was set.
Day One
Waverley Station was remarkably busy for 8am on a Saturday morning, but I assumed it was Festival goers heading home after a week's culture. The 08:07 Crosscountry train to somewhere in the far south-west of England trundled in and I found coach D where my reserved seat awaited. Forty minutes later, we rolled into Berwick Upon Tweed where I disembarked. In the station car park, I waited for the Border Bus number 477 to arrive at 09:05. Along with ten or so other passengers, we boarded the wee bus and paid our fares to the driver who seemed to be learning the ropes of the ticket system.
The bus rattled its way south along the A1 soon turning left to head towards Beal and the tidal causeway. By the way the seawater puddles on either side of the road rippled, and the splash of the pools on the road blew up, I could tell it was going to be a windy run.
We pulled up in the car park of the wee village to alight. Most turned left to walk to the castle, I headed to the toilets for a last minute pee. I then walked to the Lindisfarne Priory, passing the various cafes and ice cream sellers. I thought the Priory would be a good place to start my run to end at Melrose Abbey. Whether those were the recognised SCW start/end points I have no idea, but it was good enough for me.
After a wee monologue to the camera, I started the watch and and lumbered out of the grounds onto the road, returning back towards the causeway. Initially I was able to follow a pavement, dodging past the multitude of tourist daytrippers that were walking from the car park, but it soon ended and I was onto the road facing the oncoming traffic.
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| The shelter on the causeway where stranded drivers can wait out the tide/rescue |
I was also facing the oncoming headwind which slowed the pace. I wasn't really bothered at this point about my pace, more about the energy being expended to move forward. I was going to get nackered pretty quickly if the wind didn't abate, or I didn't get some shelter. 30minutes in and I was across to the mainland turning left off the road onto boggy ground beside some WW anti-tank blocks.
At last there was some lee from the wind here and I bounced along the muddy grass until heading inland towards the infamous Fenham Hill railway level crossing. Before I reached it, I met my first SCW walkers, a large group of elderly grey-hairs with poles heading east. At the railway, I used the telephone to contact the Berwick signal box to check whether it was safe to cross.
"Hello, I'm at Fenham Hill, can you tell me whether it is safe to cross?"
"How many are you?"
"One"
"How long will it take you to cross?"
"Oh, ten seconds"
"Yes, on you go then."
And on I went, over the rails and back to the field and climb over Fenham Hill. Soon enough I hit a track and eventually tarmac reaching the very busy A1 road at an effective crossroads. There was a constant procession of northbound vehicles all travelling at 50-60mph with little or no spacing. On the opposite side, a small queue of cars was growing to pull onto the A1 from the Fenwick road, my destination. It was a frustrating wait, and I eventually took my life in my hands and 'ran' between a gap after several minutes.
I stopped in Fenwick to check the map as I stood beside the village hall. The wind was wild and I was physically pushed about where I stood. Not a good prospect for what was to come. Up the road passing a group of farmhands gathered beside their massive harvesters ready to spend the day in the fields. Past Blawearie and off the road onto the field boundary beside the woods. I was sheltered quite nicely here and chose to stop at 11km/1 hour to grab some flapjack.
The next punctuation would be St Cuthbert's Cave. Unfortunately the map I was using (greyscale inkjet screenshots from BingMaps of the OS 1:50K series) finished with the cave on the edge of the paper so I struggled to decipher precisely where I should be heading. I followed the obvious tracks, but at one finger post which was shared with the Northumberland Coastal Path, I took the wrong fork, not realising until I was 500m along it. Fortunately the terrain was easy with a grassy field of livestock between me and my correct path.
Over the hill and into the lovely pinewood, I stumbled down the rocky sandstone path and into the bowl in front of the famous cave. This was a chance for another breather to take a gel and film the cave entrance. 15.5km in.
On the way towards the road at Old Hazelrigg, I passed a couple more groups of walkers heading east. They all looked like multi-dayers and I wondered whether they would reach the causeway in time to cross. I stopped just short of East Horton which marked 20km, at a small rise in the track. I stupidly took the opportunity to have a sit down, which I soon regretted as it was pretty tough to get going again, especially at the foot of a hill.
Fortunately there soon followed a long section of gentle downhill tarmac until I crossed the fine old Weetwood Bridge over the River Till where the trail then climbed steeply through bracken onto moorland to the east of Wooler. This passed without event, and I happily jogged into Wooler with the thought of lunch and the delights of the Co-op. 28.6km in.
I bought lunch (Cheese & Onion sarnie, McCoys, port pie, lucozade) and ate it whilst sitting on a sunny bench in the churchyard that overlooked the square. It was very pleasant watching the world pass by and I briefly managed to forget what I still had ahead. After sorting out the maps and reminding myself of the route to Kirk Yetholm, I trotted round to the bus station WC to wash my face and refill my camelbak.
Then I was off up the steep road out of the village which I had come clattering down back in June during the Cheviot Hills Trail Half. I decided not to try running here, it really was too steep and I'd likely look like a numpty. Not far from the track that leaves the road heading for Waud House, an older gent came trotting along the road with 'ultra' gear on. We greeted each other in passing and I wondered about his source & destination.
Just as I left the road to start up the track on the weird SCW loop, I suddenly realised there might be a shortcut option by staying on the road and the map confirmed my guess. This was to be the first of a couple of other shortcuts/deviations that I would take in the weekend. Guiltlessly, I soon rejoined the SCW at the Wooler Common car park and familiar ground that took me onto the Cheviots.
As suspected, the higher I climbed, the windier it got. But it was mild and I was able to just pull my hat down and plough on in my t-shirt. Unfortunately of course, the rain made an appearance after a couple of km and I actually stopped to don the cagoule. As quickly as the rain began, it had stopped and off came the cag. Just a shower.
The wind was really strong now, not gusting, just a constant headwind which made even running on the flat hardgoing. I was jealous of those walkers I passed going with the wind; did they realise how lucky they were?
At last the climbing stopped and I dropped down the 170m off the hills to the track that would lead to Hethpool. At 38km I stopped in some woods on a style for another gel and some cheese which I'd bought at Wooler. Delicious! I also decided to try out the radio to take my mind off the miles ahead and was glad to find a crystal clear Radio2 signal, some Josh Lycett guff to entertain me on a Saturday afternoon.
At Hethpool I took another break to switch the maps over again and take water before jogging slowly up the tarmac to the road end at Elsdonburn. The climb up to the Border was long and slow and of course the wind was still blowing hard on the 340m summit but when I arrived and stopped for some sweeties, I was ecstatic. I knew I would be able to finish the day - Kirk Yetholm was within touching distance. 46km to here - longer than a marathon distance! OK, I hadn't been running the whole time, and had taken a wee lunch break, but still it was under my own steam. I made sure to send a text home in case there was no signal down in the village below.
Twenty minutes later, I was trotting into Kirk Yetholm where I made sure to run up to the famous wall of the Border Hotel and stop the watch, to the bemusement of some pub drinkers sitting at tables outside. I was very happy!
Relive:
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Strava:
Day Two
The Border Hotel had served its purpose but my room wasn't the most comfortable. I was a bit frustrated by the TV not having a signal as I'd wanted to follow some of the World Cup rugby warm-up matches. (With hindsight, this was a good thing as France humped Scotland 32-3 😮 ) What was more frustrating was the fact I'd not brought any form of charger for my phone or GPS watch. The hotel staff had found a USB charger (borrowed from the Chef) which I sat by in the lobby for most of the evening watching the percentage rise from 39 to 70.
After a breakfast bowl of porridge and rubbery scrambled egg, I brushed teeth, lost some weight, paid the bill and escaped into the square outside. It was breezy but very overcast and I could already feel some raindrops. I put the cag on and after a short piece to the camera, set off along the road. It was 9.30am.
I was surprised at my lack of pain when running, even though it was slow. After 500m, it was time to leave the tarmac and into the wet grass beside the river. I followed this passing a couple of dog walkers on the way before soon arriving back on the road to follow it west to the foot of Wideopen Hill. On the way, a mad woman walking along the road in the rain stopped me for a chat and asked me where I was off to.
The climb to the summit of Wideopen Hill passed fairly easily but the rising wind was a concern. I hid behind the summit dyke to take a break, only 6km in. The views were good, but not amazing due to the low cloud and rain. I could see back to Kirk Yetholm and the hills at the Border but looking north there was no sign of the Eildons. Probably a good thing as it would demoralise me.
Facing into the gale, I tightened my hood and trotted along the ridge beside the wall before starting the descent to the road. I passed a couple of soaking walking groups on their way up, both from overseas. I wondered what they thought of Scotland when it was like this.
Back on the tarmac, the rain stopped and the sun tried to make an appearance so I was able to remove the cag at last. I made decent progress through Morebattle and onwards to about 11km where I stopped for a gel on a junction. Upwards to Cessford Castle and then through the hamlet of Cessford itself before leaving the tarmac again and following a farm track along field boundaries.
The earlier rain had made all the crops wet and soggy. The vegetation leaned across the vestiges of path so that I was soon soaking and swearing as I plodded on. There were a couple of tarmac sections and lots of corners to negotiate, always checking the map against the land. Two sections through natural oak woodland were very pleasant and I made a mental note to return to these.
Eventually I joined some familiar ground at the road east of Jedburgh that I had run along in 2015 in the October half-marathon. Stupidly I assumed my route would stay on the east bank of the Jed Water so I followed the finger post pointing me that way (without reading it). I jogged along the increasingly grassy track in the now hot sun, heading further and further east. "This doesn't feel right", I thought to myself. I stopped. I looked at the map and the sun. I was on the wrong bank. Arse. I backtracked all the way to the road to look at the finger post - "Borders Abbeys Way" it said. 😰
You idiot. Almost a mile had been wasted. I crossed the bridge and got back on track. Some woods, then more field boundaries before crossing the impressive wooden suspension Monteviot Bridge over the River Teviot. Up to the road and now I started to search for the entrance to the garden centre I had spied on the maps and satellite imagery.
Woodside Garden centre was everything I had hoped for. Outside dining in a walled garden, serviced by an efficient tea-room that served soup, bread and cake. And willingly refilled my water bottle. For 30minutes, I re-entered civilisation and was able to feel a bit more human. 30km to this point. I noticed my watch was now down to one bar on the battery, so I decided to press stop to save some power whilst I refuelled.
I found a shortcut at the edge of the garden centre carpark to rejoin the SCW and was soon onto the obvious straight line of the Roman Dere Street which I had been looking forward to. The direct route would get me cross country and closer to Melrose quickly and efficiently. If I could still run it. Of course, there was no 'Street' and no discernible road. It was effectively just a wide field boundary with some trees and a narrow sheep track to follow. But I made quick progress and after 6km, the route turned 90° right onto a proper road and headed downhill to the wee hamlet of Maxton.
The sun was strong now, and I felt its heat beating on my neck as I pounded down the hill passing the entrance to "Morridgehall". Past the Maxton church and at last the River Tweed came into view as I found my way onto the riverside path. In my route planning, I was very keen to avoid this 'extra' distance of following the river on the meander out east and had decided to take a shortcut up to St Boswells when possible. Checking the map as the path came close to a cemetery, I made my escape and back onto the tarmac just as the heavens opened.
The plod up to the village got wetter at each step, until I had to take cover in the entrance archway of Main Street Books. (Note to self - must take a proper visit). Once the rain had relented, I continued along the Main Street, but scanned each opening to the right looking for a way back to the River which I knew was close by. Up a narrow sidestreet, I asked an old lady if she knew of a way to the river - she did - it was right beside this garage here. And so it was, I sneaked along the side of the building bending under the wet vegetation and suddenly found myself on the wooden walkway of the SCW again!
I continued west for another km until opposite Dryburgh Abbey where I found a good seat on the river bank for a rest. I texted Sally, refuelled and checked the map. I had done 11km since lunch, it was 15:15 and I still had probably 10km left. I knew I would be able to finish.
After some more tarmac, and then a reasonable bridleway past Maxpoffle, I climbed the hill to Bowden which I knew marked the final building before the traverse of the mighty Eildons ahead. I had first seen them from near Jedburgh before lunch, but now I was at their feet and they loomed large. I had to remind myself I was only going over the saddle approx ~140m of ascent.
I made a slight nav error leaving Bowden, missing the footpath that leaves the tarmac, but was soon in the woods climbing the good track to the saddle. The views opened out to show me where I'd come from, the Cheviots under cloud and the windows and sandstone of Melrose glinting below. There was some path building machinery on the saddle and signage explaining which paths were affected. Fortunately, although my intended route was being worked on, it was only Mon-Fri so it looked like I'd be able to progress.
This was actually a real bonus as I had memories of this path being a mudfest - it was now a well drained, solid track that I could jog down with my aching knees. I met a couple of tourists who stopped me and asked whether the path would take them to the hill summit. Yes, I explained and pointed.
I jogged into Melrose and kept going until I reached the gates of the Abbey. It was just after 5pm.
I had made it!! 100km in a weekend. What a relief.
I bought some goodies in the Co-op and then set off along the road towards Tweedbank station. In my initial route planning, I had thought that I would still be running here, along the riverside path to then jink up to the station. However, enough was enough and I felt that the Abbey was a good endpoint.
I knew the trains to Edinburgh were scheduled at 45mins past the hour, so reached the platform at 17:40, bought my ticket in the machine and boarded the waiting train. At last, a seat.
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