LEJOG
Distance walked – 29km (18.1miles)
Total Distance – 1357.3km (848.3miles)
On your feet, you feel the beat
It goes straight to your spine
Don’t sweat it, we’ll get it back to you
Overkill
Motorhead – Overkill
The Scottish Thistle, much evident on our journey today, is the oldest recorded national flower. One of the best known legends concerning its adoption as a Scottish national symbol dates from the mid 13th century during a surprise invasion by Vikings led by the Norse King Haakon at Largs on the western coast of Scotland. After landing their boats, the Vikings planned to surprise the sleeping Scottish clansmen and highlanders by sneaking up barefooted. Unfortunately, their cries of pain after standing on some thistles awoke the Scots who were able to defeat them in battle. In celebration, the humble thistle was adopted as the Scottish national symbol.
This story resonates with us today after we suffered some of the most severe foot pain of our journey and a low point where for the first time we weren’t sure if we were going to be able to finish a stage. (Spoiler – we did).
River Tweed
It was a happier start to the day, as we left Melrose just after 7am, fortified by coffee and pastries from the Co-op. After studying the map last night, we had decided to forego the Southern Uplands Path which is the suggested route in our End-to-End guidebook. That path seemed to have quite a convoluted course and included two crossings of high moorland, one over 500metres. While it is probably quite scenic, we had instead spotted a cycle route that loosely follows the Tweed River to Innerleithen, our destination for today. The cycle route looked more direct and was definitely going to involve less ascent/descent, although there was going to be a lot of road walking. Desiring a day of easy walking we decided to change plans.
An initial three-kilometre road walk brought us to Tweedbank railway station and the start of the cycle route. We crossed the river by the railway bridge, before turning to follow the river through a mixture of woodland and riverside lanes.
Woodland Riverside Path
The woodland sections were pretty, with the river our constant companion, visible through gaps in the verdant foliage. The River Tweed is one of the longest rivers in Britain and the entire river is designated a SSSI (Site of Special Scientific Interest). It flows mainly through the Borders region of Scotland and etymologically the name probably derives from an old Brittonic word meaning border. It is certainly a scenic delight.
Tweed Bridge
We reached the old Tweed Bridge where we left the cycle route to walk on a footpath alongside the river. This was without doubt the highlight of the day. The path ran through a beautiful riverside meadow, that sparkled in the bright sunny weather.
Angling for Lunch
We stopped for a mid-morning snack on a handy bench. Every few metres we had noticed a post with a number, some of which also had benches. We presumed they were fishing spots as apparently the Tweed is one of the ‘great’ Salmon rivers of the world (if the boring torture of fish is your thing).
Crossing the River
WTF?
The riverside path eventually wandered away from the river and became a stony path and then a lane as we crossed some farmland before joining a minor road. The road took us back to the river at a bridge crossing. As we approached the bridge, we spied what seemed to be a body floating face down on the far side of the river. It was dressed in fluorescent high-vis gear and had a helmet on. It looked very much like a canoeist that had gone overboard. There was no one around. Shocked, I rushed down to the river’s edge to have a closer look. Weirdly, the body didn’t seem to have any legs and as I was straining to get a closer look, contemplating entering the water, Louisa called out. From behind a nearby house, a large group of Scottish Fire Rescue personnel had suddenly appeared in full gear with loads of equipment. They were clearly doing a practice water rescue on the mannikin that they had placed in the river earlier. They were very unfriendly towards us, particularly when Louisa cheekily remarked “Thank God you’re here. There’s a body over there!”
High above the River
After crossing the bridge, the rest of the day was an extremely long road walk (over 16kms). Fortunately, it was all on quiet lanes with only infrequent cars and occasional cyclists, but it was more undulating than expected with sections that climbed high above the river, contouring around the low edges of several hills. Highpoints included a lovely lunch spot, sat on a drystone wall that had protruding stones, like bespoke seats, a cyclist who stopped to talk to us and was so taken with our story of LEJOG that he bestowed a Cliff bar on us (love a Cliff bar!), and the shade provided by the tall trees on the side of the road. Low points included passing a large rotting deer that filled the air with an almost incomprehensible stench, the long stretches without any shade, and the severe foot pain from the excessive bitumen walking throughout the day.
Walkerburn Village
We have learnt on this journey that road walking is a two-edged sword. We can walk the fastest on bitumen, often faster than 5km/hr, but the trade-off is severe foot pain. The hard, unyielding surface plays havoc with our chronically sore feet, giving us crippling pain that it is difficult to continue with. Things came to a head this afternoon. Louisa had changed shoes at lunchtime as her feet and ankles were so sore, putting on her old zero drop trail runners. In retrospect this was probably a mistake as rather than alleviating the problem, they probably made things worse.
The road finally brought us to the outskirts of the village of Walkerburn. From here we knew it was just three further kilometres on a disused railway line/cycle path to Innerleithen, but as we sat on a bench looking at the village, Louisa decided that she couldn’t go any further today. She had been struggling for hours and she thought she was done.
I’d like to say that I gave an inspirational speech, Henry V style that rallied her, but I simply started muttering stupid suggestions like “I could go get a taxi” or “I could carry your bag”. Suggestions that were never going to be considered. We sat in silence for some time before Louisa suddenly put her shoes back on and said, “Let’s go”.
Highland Cooows spotted on the last section
I will never know what she went through to get to the end of the day. The rail track cycle path wasn’t bitumen but was still pretty hard gravel. We didn’t talk much, but later in the comfort of our hotel room I did suggest to her that it was ironic that she had suffered Walker’s Burn at Walkerburn. Cue tumbleweeds . . . . . .
