Group News

Twelve worthy pilgrims of St Cuthbert gathered one September evening at Melrose Youth Hostel. Their avowed intent was to follow the 62 mile St Cuthbert from Melrose, where the seventh century saint began his monastic career, to his final resting place on Lindisfarne. Would we be on our knees by the end of the trip? Only time would tell.

Day 1: Melrose to Harestanes (14 miles)

In what would become a daily routine, the four drivers set off to the end point of the walk, leaving three cars there and coming back in the fourth.  It seemed like an awful long way to drive, how would it feel to walk it? By the time we returned to the hostel, everyone was ready to find out.

We set off, passing by the ruined remains of Melrose Abbey before turning uphill towards the Eildon Hills. This distinctive trio of conical peaks stand just south of Melrose and dominate the little town. A stiff climb brought us to the col between the two highest tops, whence half the party made a side trip to the highest summit whilst the rest took the chance of an early elevenses stop.

The view from the top was impressive, and gave us a chance to survey the route ahead. Miles of rolling farmland and woodland stretched out to meet the distant line of the Cheviot Hills. We could also see an ominous bank of cloud approaching from the west, which sent us scuttling for our waterproofs.

By the time the group was reunited, a light rain had begun to fall. It continued as we descended the Eildons and passed through the villages of Bowden and Newtown St Boswells to the banks of the Tweed near Dryburgh. Here the rain stopped, allowing us to make a lunch break and nip over the Chain Bridge to visit the Temple of the Muses – a ninetenth century folly containing a modern sculpture.

The next stage of the journey followed the winding course of the Tweed, with the path climbing and descending the steep bank of the river to the extent that some wondered if St Cuthbert is the patron saint of steps! After a while the path levelled out, and we could enjoy the now-sunlit banks of the river with its herons and other waterfowl.

Near the village of Maxton we bade farewell to the Tweed and headed back toward the main road. Thus far, we had wound around by hill and river without making a lot of progress towards our goal. The next stage would be ruler-straight, following the line of an old Roman road.

Dere Street was once the main road from York to the Firth of Forth. In places it still is, as the A1 follows its route as far as Scotch Corner whilst the A68 follows it over Hadrian’s Wall and into Scotland. Here, though, it was reduced to a footpath, sometimes winding between small stands of trees, sometimes a wide drover’s path between stone walls. At the summit of a low hill we passed a monument to a particularly redoubtable local lassie:

Fair Maiden Lilliard lies under this stane,
Little was her stature but muckle was her fame;
Upon the English loons she laid many thumps,
And when her legs were cuttit off, she fought upon her stumps.

By this time our own legs were beginning to feel almost as worn down as Lady Lilliard’s. Sooi said that the soles of her feet were so sore that she had to walk on her heels, and the rest of us were pretty weary of the day’s exertions. Fortunately, the end was not too far off. A final descent through dense woodland brought us to the Harestanes Visitor Centre, the cars and back to the hostel.

Day 2: Harestanes to Morebattle (11 miles)

We packed up and left Melrose for the last time, and (after some car shuffling) re-convened at Harestanes just in time for the café to open. Resisting (most of) the temptations of tea and cake, we set off on another day’s walking.

Circling around the edge of Monteviot House Gardens, we soon found ourselves on the bank of the Teviot. A smart new suspension bridge carried the path over the river, replacing one that had been swept away by a flood in 1997. The new bridge looks set to resist all weather, but is still disconcertingly bouncy under the tread of twelve pairs of feet!

A short stretch along the banks of first the Teviot, then the Jed Water brought us back onto the course of Dere Street. Following the preferred route of the legionaries up a steady slope (did those guys never consider going round a hill?), we stopped for a rest in an open field beside the path. The sun was shining now, and we were able to enjoy a fine view of the Eildons and the country we had crossed on the day before.

Resuming our walk, we entered the first of a number of small woods that our route would take us through that day. Interspersed with sections of farmland, first a birch wood, then an oak wood, then a pine wood. Each had a distinct character not even hinted at by the bland green shading on a map. You have to walk through the countryside to appreciate such things.

At length, we came to the small settlement of Cessford. Nearby stands the remains of Cessford Castle, once one of the strongest defensive works along the troubled Anglo-Scottish border and a stronghold of the Ker family. With the coming of more peaceful times, the Kers decamped to nearby Floors Castle leaving Cessford to fall into ruin. After a brief inspection, keeping a respectful distance from its crumbling walls, we embarked on a three mile road walk to reach the cars at Morebattle.

That night we transferred to Kirk Yetholm YH, more famous for being at the end of the Pennine Way than the middle of the St Cuthbert’s. Finding the biggest pans we could, we set about making a communal meal. Neeps and Tatties were peeled, chopped, boiled and mashed. Haggis was roasted and portioned out. After a few lines of Burns the whole was demolished and followed up by fruit crumble and custard. Just the thing after a long day’s walk!

Day 3: Morebattle to Kirk Yetholm (6  miles)

Returning to Morebattle, we started the day with another mile along the road. A fine rain was falling and the sun was shining, filling the valley behind us with a colossal rainbow. We also had a strong westerly wind to blow us on our way.

Crossing a fast-flowing stream, we gratefully turned off the road and returned to open country. Hill country! The arable fields of the past two days were replaced by the fellsides that marked the edge of the Cheviot range.

Aided by the wind, we clambered to the top of Wideopen Hill. At 1200 feet, the summit of Wideopen Hill is the highest point of the walk and also the halfway point. The views were extensive, but rather hampered by the thick scotch mist covering most of the country to the north. Nonetheless, though the murk, the distinctive triple summit of the Eildons could be made out marking the already distant start of our trek.

The path followed a ridge for an exhilerating mile before dropping down into the valley for another stretch of road back to Town Yetholm. We arrived back at the hostel in the middle of the afternoon, whence the group split up to amuse themselves. I’ll leave it as an exercise for the reader’s imagination to work out which of the assembled company went for a further walk round a nearby loch, which pottered around Town Yetholm, which went shopping in Wooler and which spent the afternoon in the pub!

Day 4: Kirk Yetholm to Wooler (13 miles)

Bidding farewell to Kirk Yetholm hostel, we set off southbound along the Pennine Way. Edale lay a mere 270 miles ahead of us but, on balance, we decided to stick to the St Cuthbert’s when it came to the parting of the ways. We were now climbing, in brilliant sunshine, up into the northern edge of the Cheviot hills. We crossed the border into England and diverted a little off the path to reach Eccles Cairn.

A splendid view spread out to the North and West across the border country. Once again the Eildons could be clearly seen, their triple profile being a prominent feature on the horizon. They’d become a familiar, if constantly receding, sight over the past few days but this was time to bid them farewell as we headed further into the Cheviot range.

Descending into the College valley, we passed through a dense pine plantation that was as dark as midnight inside after the sunlit moorland that we’d been passing through. Then a farm track took us to the small settlement of Hethpool before we climbed once more into the moors.

Passing the ancient hill fort of Yeavering Bell on our left, we caught our first glimpse of the sea – a distant grey ribbon along the horizon to the north east. Striding out over broad, heather-clad moors we passed Tom Tallon’s Crag and a few other low heights before Wooler finally hove into view.

The town was a sight for sore eyes, or more specifically for sore feet, as this was probably the most strenuous day so far. The day wasn’t finished yet, as for once the route didn’t finish with a road walk into town (hooray!), but an extra half-mile loop (oops) that took us through a small pine wood instead.

Finally we reached the welcoming front door of Wooler YH, the third and final hostel of the trip.

Day 5: Wooler to Fenwick (12 miles)

Our last full day of walking, and once again one bathed in glorious sunshine. We were now out of the Cheviot hills and crossing farmland to get to the coast, though still taking in small patches of moorland such as Weetwood Moor, which stands just to the west of Wooler.

The last long road section of the walk took us from Weetwood bridge to the hamlet of Horton, heading all the time towards a long wooded ridge that formed the last high ground between us and the coast. A farm track took us to Hazelrigg, a short rest, and a rather extraordinary sight.

You know how it is: you go for ages without seeing anybody pushing a fridge, and then two come along all at once. Rolling along the road were two young men embarked upon “The Great Fridge Adventure” – each pushing a fridge from John O’Groats to Land’s End in order to raise money for the Alzheimer’s Society. We put some money in their tin and wished them well before going our separate ways.

Next stop was St. Cuthbert’s cave. Really more of a rocky outcrop, this is reputed to have been the hiding place of monks who fled, carrying the relics of the saint, when the vikings attacked Lindisfarne in 875. St Cuthbert would make a long posthumous journey before finding a truly final resting place in Durham over a hundred years later.

Our own final resting place was still a few miles off, so after a little boulder climbing in the surroundings of the cave, we set off up the hill. A short climb brought us to the top of Greensheen Hill.

Looking back at the way we’d come, we could see the expanse of fields between us and Wooler. We could see the mass of the Cheviot Hills stretching out behind the town. Far away on the horizon, we could even see the unmistakable outline of the Eildon hills, thirty miles away as the crow flies (and positively their last appearance on our walk).

However, it was the other direction that drew our attention most. Ahead of us stretched the Northumberland coastline, with the holy island of Lindisfarne right in front. We could see the narrow causeway stretching across the sands, and Lindisfarne Castle standing on its rocky mount. It seemed close enough to touch, but we still had a few miles to cover to get there.

The remainder of the day was spent crossing fields and woodlands, with our final objective almost always within view. We reached Fenwick and drove back to the hostel, eagerly anticipating the last step of the journey.

Day 6: Fenwick to Lindisfarne (6 miles)

The first task of the day was one of the most challenging: crossing the A1. Having safely tackled that obstacle we were faced, a couple of miles later, with crossing the east coast main line. A phone call to the signalman ensured that there were no 125mph trains bearing down on us as we went on our way. After passing those two barriers, could something as minor as the sea keep us from our goal?

Fortunately, the tide was in our favour and already a long way out when we reached the causeway. Taking shoes and socks off, we left the road and followed the “pilgrim’s path” across the sands to the island. The feeling of the cool sand against tired feet was bliss – you can pay good money for spa treatment like that, and we were getting it for free!

On reaching the island, we regrouped and reshod. All that remained was a short stroll along the road to reach Lindisfarne Priory, St Cuthbert’s final destination and also ours. After a visit to the pub and a walk out to the castle, the group dispersed. Alan and Dave heading south to the YHA AGM in York, the rest taking a look round the island before heading back to a B&B on the mainland. The next day, everyone was on the long road back to Leicester.

Conclusion

All-in-all an excellent week’s walking, complete with fine weather, views and company. As always, Kathy did an excellent job organising the trip, and thanks are due to the drivers, cooks, washers up and everybody else that made it so enjoyable.

Plans are already afoot to tackle the Cleveland Way next year. Personally, I can’t wait…