Torridon 7

Today, I'm having a rest day. I've put the memory of my stressful drive up north aside and decide to drive to Applecross, a peninsula that can be reached via a legendary and very steep mountain pass to Bealach na Ba. At the bealach is a car park, and from there you can walk up to a mast and then continue along a nice little ridge to the top of Sgurr a' Chaorachain, a corbett.

I'm quite comfortable with single track roads now - it's easy to stay in my lane when that's the only lane there is! However, I've heard a lot about the steep serpentines on this road, and I'm a little bit nervous.

But no need! Traffic turns out fairly light, and my little car is strong and enjoys the climb. Up at the bealach, I walk up to the mast and turn right - and walk right up the wrong bump first. Oops. Eventually, I find the right ridge to follow - it would have been easier if the clouds were higher up. Two other walkers are ahead of me, and that's good to know. With scrambles, I seem to need permission to go, but if other people are doing them it must be ok.

There are a few small peaks to climb over, some of them very rocky and hands are being used. Such fun! It's like being a monkey child in the trees again.

To my left, I can see the next ridge with almost vertical slopes. To my right is clouds. I reach the end of the spur, which is the top, and have lunch. I turn back, do the scrambles again the other way, giving the bypasses a miss. The clouds lift and I see Skye.

Back at the car park I enjoy the view a bit more before driving over the pass to the Applecross villages. This side is less steep, and the views ahead are lovely - the sea, the islands, the trees and villages by the water.

I stop near the Applecross Inn and have a coffee outside, watching the sea. A little dog really really doesn't like the rocky beach and presses all four feet into the ground, against the pull of its owner. There is a stag in a garden next to the pub. I drive along the coast back to Torridon village, making many stops to let the ten Ferraris pass that have been following me, and enjoy the sun that has come out properly now, and the views.

A quiet day. Lazy. I'm getting ready to leave Torridon tomorrow, but I'll be back for sure. There are a few ridge walks with my name on them. I chat with someone in the hostel who texts his mum because he says she can sense it when he is out hillwalking, and she might worry. I call my parents too.

Torridon 6

After completing my first munro of the day, I leave the Cambridge guys behind and retrace my steps along the narrow ridge. Once back at the chute, I continue on, an easy scramble, looking very scary in places, but every single step is absolutely doable and not too scary.

I'm feeling like I am on top of the world. Only that I can't see the world, just clouds. This is so much fun. I reach another summit and leave it behind when the clouds lift, and I miss out on a spectacular view west over the sea, Ben Alligin, the islands. My view is mostly blocked by the summit I just left. Bummer.

I'm staying ahead of the other group, but comforted by their proximity, indeed very grateful to have them near. Without them I might not have had the confidence to do the ridge. This last munro, Spidean Coire nan Clach, is a short scramble from the trig point, but oh, so exposed. For the first time today, I'm properly frightened to move. There's no rockface to lean against for comfort. I'm not hanging out here but make my way back quickly to the trig point and walk down the zigzags in the scree, a clear path. It ends at a cairn, and my directions tell me that there's a footpath here, going left, leading down the steep slope. Well, there is a footpath, but it soons turns into a landslide, and I can't tell which of the muddy burns is supposed to be my path. There are no foot prints either and visibility is poor.

I wait, thinking that the other group might just be behind me. It's quiet. They don't come, so I keep going. The map says go downhill until you hit a stream. There don't seem to be any difficulties I could run into, although I do see some dark, slippy looking slabs further down, that I'd rather avoid. I carefully make my way downhill, and soon the clouds lift, I see a clear footpath down below, and everything suddenly becomes clear and very easy. The path goes all the way to the road, and some of the guys finally catch up, and we have a chat.

Back at the car I remove my dripping socks and boots and drive back to the hostel. The two guys I met at the Triple Buttress and who went back the way they had come tell me that they were watching me on the ridge while they were walking back down below. I chat with another guy, seemingly a mountaineering veteran, and we invent the midge-sock-dance. This is moving like you're trying to get out of your wet socks quickly when you arrive at your car after a day's walk, while also avoiding to get eaten by the midges.

This guy now sits with his glass of wine at the table next to me, every now and then spraying a bit of RAID in the air around him. I hear "fftt" and then soon after smell the chemicals. I don't mind, he gives me chocolate.

At 9 pm I'm having trouble to stay up any longer. I have tentative plans for tomorrow and nothing left to do, so I go to bed before 10 pm. A minute after closing my eyes I go out like a light.

Torridon 5

I wake up early after a restless night. Someone snored so hard that my earplugs didn't work. I boil a few eggs and make some sandwiches in preparation for a big day. Yesterday, I looked at Beinn Eighe, today I want to climb it if the conditions are right. The plan is to walk up the Coire Mhic Fhearchair, and if it clears up by then I'll go up and walk the ridge and the two munros.

When I arrive at the car park it's chucking it down, and I sit in the car for a while until the rain quietens down a bit. And off I go.

I get drenched by the rain and dried off by the wind twice before I finally reach the beautiful waterfall of Coire Mhic Fhearchair - a great water feature. It reminds by contrast of a very disappointing waterfall in Tasmania which had looked amazing in pictures, but lack of rain made it all thin and sad. No lack of rain here.

Climbing up alongside the waterfall I meet two guys who are also staying in the hostel. I think they're a couple, and they remind me of another couple I once met walking by that disappoining waterfall in Tasmania - although those two were naked (*click*).

"Nothing prepares you for the sudden view of the Triple Buttress as Loch Coire Mhic Fhearchair is finally reached" is what the walk description says. Triple Buttress my arse. I am well prepared for the sudden view, but the Triple Buttress won't show in the low clouds. The guys decide to turn back. I'm wavering, and then some of the clouds lift, and I can see the chute behind the loch which I'd need to climb up to get to the ridge, and it looks fun. I tell the guys I'm doing it. And walk off in the wrong direction. Oops.

The guys send me on my way, the other way around the loch, crossing the top of the waterfall first. This put them off, as the stepping stones are under water, and the water runs fast. But another group arrives, and I let them cross first. No one falls in, so I follow. They are a mountaineering club from Cambridge Uni and are looking quite confident and tell me they're doing the ridge walk as well, so I decide to follow them for a bit more. And then I realise that they are not going for the chute, but straight up the first munro.

I leave them and scramble my way across a steep boulder field to reach the chute. The chute is very steep and full of crumbly scree, and I need to use my hands, but it doesn't seem dangerous. Slipping might mean a bum-shuffle down, not a broken neck. It's good fun really. Once up, I look over the very narrow ridge, expecting views, but only see clouds.

I walk along the ridge to the westernmost top, the first munro of the day, where I meet the Cambridge group, and we shake hands and say well done to each other.

Torridon 4

It's day two in Torridon. I get up early - last night, I went to bed before 10 pm. This is good, I'll have a coffee and try to work up an appetite for my sugary muesli - the only type available in the little shop.

The Glasgow boys give me lentil soup and take off. It's chucking it down. I don't know what to do, but I have to leave the hostel for the day, so I decide to drive to the starting point of today's walk and then see how I feel. The plan is to walk a signposted mountain trail in the Beinn Eighe National Nature Reserve.

I arrive at the parking lot and the rain stops. I walk and it's lovely. The rain comes back but it's mostly light now. The trail is very steep but excellent.

At the top it's extremely windy and I'm having trouble to stay upright. I have a snack in the lousy shelter of a large cairn and today, my plan works out: the sun comes out! Only for a few seconds, but it happens twice. And then the rain starts again. Wrapped up in all my layers I start the descent, past a few lovely lochans and across some bubbly streams in spate. They are wonderful. As are the waterfalls on the hills across Loch Maree. All this rain is really bringing out the water features.

I walk down a beautiful gorge, lovely Scots pine, tall and gnarly, all around. When I arrive at the car park I have five minutes in the sun by the loch before the torrential rain is back and I drive back to the hostel. Driving through the massive puddles is fun, and other cars are waiting to let me pass to not spoil the fun I'm having. I see a very wet couple walk along the road and offer them a lift. After 800 m they have arrived at their destination, so this was a bit pointless, but still a nice thing to do.

Back in the hostel I have a hot shower, a pot of tea, plan tomorrow's walking options, read my book and listen to the rain. For dinner I was looking forward to the soup but I forgot to label it and it's gone, which makes me a little sad. After some chat with the other guests I go to bed early.

Torridon 3

I arrive at the top of Ben Damh, there is a proper cairn and a little shelter built from rocks. My plan was that the sun comes out now that I'm up here, but it doesn't, so I don't hang around and turn back. I leave the ridge and lose the path. I wander around the rocky moor, every rock seems familiar but then isn't. Eventually I spot a cairn and find the path again.

Back at the bealach it starts to rain harder. The water is sloshing in my boots and I have to put on gloves as the cold wind is draining all the heat from my wet hands. Walking down, the previously wet path has now turned into a proper burn. Not that that would make any difference for my already soaking wet feet. The trouble is that my boots are waterproof, so the water isn't going to go anywhere.

I see a group of walkers crossing a river below me and joining my path ahead of me. I catch up with them. Turns out they tried to climb Ben Damh as well but gave up because of the weather. I tell them they didn't miss much and stride sprightly past them, feeling young, strong and not just a little smug.

Reaching the woods I spot a massive waterfall that I'm sure wasn't there before. The rain finally eases for just long enough to take a picture.

Back at the car, conveniently parked at the Torridon Inn, I empty my boots, wring out my socks, and get a soup and a coffee in the pub and check out my gear. My trousers are completety soaked as are my pants. But my jacket did a fantastic job at keeping me dry and toasty all day. My waterproof rucksack looks very wet but everything inside is dry. Strangely, the pocket in the lid at the top is not waterproof even though the rain usually gets there first... Other than that, I'm very happy with this purchase, it's comfy and roomy.

Back at the hostel I share my fruity tea with some Germans. They are on a supported mountain bike trip and got mugged in Nottinghamshire. Everyone is gathered in the panorama lounge, watching and listening to the rain together, Scottish, English, Germans united, drinking tea.

The Scottish boys are from Glasgow and give me their leftover chilli con carne - nice! I didn't plan my provisions well, and shops are few and far between. Now, instead of having spaghetti & pesto every night, I have two nights of spaghetti & chilli!

Torridon 2

The forecast for my first day in Torridon is rubbish. But the next days look even worse. The hostel asks guests to leave during the day between 10 am and 2 pm, so I have the choice between a wet walk or spending a day at the Whistlestop Cafe in Kinlochewe.

I'll save the cafe option for one of the next days and decide to walk up Ben Damh, a corbett with a bit of a ridge. It is a proper hill walk but shouldn't be that long a day, or too hard or too exposed (turns out I'm wrong there). And it's only a very short drive away, very appealing having spent most of yesterday in a car. I want to move my legs. The rain is a good opportunity to test my new waterproof rucksack and my new-ish Paramo jacket.

The walk goes up, up, up on a great path though Scots pine along a gorge, across a moor, the rain sometimes easing into a drizzle, a rainbow on my right and Upper Loch Torridon in my back. I reach the bealach, and the wind which was in my back going up now almost pushes me back to where I came from. I should be seeing Applecross but all I see is grey fog soup. How can it be that windy and foggy at the same time?

On my right, there is an optional peak to climb "for good views", but today is not a day for good views, so I turn left along the ridge towards the main peak. I follow a path and can't see where it leads as it disappears in the fog, but it's uphill so that's seems right. It gets rocky and very steep on both sides. It looks a bit scary, but every single step is perfectly doable. I do a risk assessment: What could happen, how likely is it to happen, how bad would it be if it happened. How can I prevent the likely things from happening. For example, turning an ankle versus getting blown off this ridge.

It seems a bit pointless to continue to the end with the wind blowing harder now and in gusts, only to return the same way, seeing nothing much. But I think I'm close to finishing and I can't go back to the hostel until 2 pm, and it's a way to pass the time so I might as well. It's probably a good thing that I cannot see how far down it goes. 

Torridon 1

Early last month, I spent a few days in Torridon in the northwest of Scotland. September and May are usually quite nice months in Scotland weatherwise, but not this year. I've never seen so much water coming out of the sky as I did during my Torridon trip.

So here we go:

I get up early to get to the car rental place in time. There is a queue, and the staff isn't overly helpful. The guy who's serving me is employee of the month according to a poster on the wall. He tells a man, who is complaining because his car is smaller than what he ordered and paid for, that he is lucky to get any car at all, and no, he won't get a refund.

They let me wait for it, but eventually, I get my car. It's a sporty looking Hyundai, larger than what I ordered, but managable. It has GPS, another nice surprise, and it's already slightly knackered, which is a relief. It's got a camera at the back, showing on a screen what's behind the car whenever I reverse, it tells me when to switch gears and whether I'm in the middle of the lane, and it seems quite powerful with 6 gears. So far so good. I'm very nervous about driving a car with the driver's seat on the right. I always find it hard to tell how far the car extends to the left - I tend to overestimate the distance between my car and the curb or parking cars on my left.

I drive to mine to pick up my stuff. This wasn't so bad, surely I can drive the 250 miles of scenic route to Torridon! The weather is nice too, so I'm happy to take my time, take breaks etc.

I take some time to understand the bits of my car. Not sure about the light settings - there are so many of them, but I should get to my hostel in daylight. The GPS gets me safely out of Edinburgh and onwards to Stirling, where I take a coffee break at Smiddy's farm shop, and then another one at a tearoom in an old church building just after Crianlarich.

The sun shines and this route certainly is scenic. However, I'm very focused on the road, trying to get used to the dimensions of the car, checking my mirrors to make sure I'm in the middle of my lane. It's quite exhausting. Until I realise I'm alone in a car and no one can hear me. Is there a better place to practise my singing? I don't think so.

I arrive in no time at the hostel, having picked up a few groceries on the way. I really should have brought more food from Edinburgh; the selection in the little shop in Speanbridge is limited. Looks like I'm going to have a lot of spaghetti and pesto over the next few days.

Borders Abbeys Way 4

It's day three, our longest day with 33 km / 20 miles. We'll be walking to Selkirk first, which is where most people would stop for the day. But we're going to continue on to Tweedback to catch a train home.

Vincent makes us a massive breakfast, and again, Joe helps me with the meaty bits of mine.

Leaving Hawick, it's uphill for a bit and then on a minor road, but at some point we're on a nice walking path again. We take a long break on a tiny footbridge somewhere in  the bush. We need to get up when a Canadian/German group wants to pass. We meet them later in a cafe in Selkirk, where they feel sorry for us because unlike them, we're not yet finished walking for the day. I don't mind. I knew Selkirk was just a stop, so I'm happy to keep going.

Meeting Canadians sparks a lengthy discussion about the best way of eating maple syrup. In my view, it's on Belgian waffles with bacon. It is important though that the waffles are not too sweet. Joe is more of a pancake and icecream guy. We reach Selkirk, and after a coffee break, where the friendly server offers to refill our water bottles, Joe finally gets his icecream he's been thinking of ever since we had the maple syrup conversation.

The bit after Selkirk is a beautiful high level walk through the Selkirk hills with views over the Ettrick valley, and we meet a gang of inquisitive young cows.

In a little hamlet outside Selkirk, a woman in a garden, pruning flowers, sees us from afar and shouts 'schnipp schnipp' at us, and when we come closer, she says we look clean and if we didn't want to stay in her house when she goes to Australia next year. I'm tempted to say yes, but she seems a bit crazy.

We pass a little lake with a beach, and I suggest we go skinny dipping, but I chicken out when Joe calls my bluff. We arrive at Tweedbank station just after 8 pm. We can see the train from afar but don't know when it will leave, so we rush to it only to learn that we still have 20 minutes to go.

Joe starts a chat with a guy who turns out to be a strip club manager. He says that some people think that this makes him seedy (I silently agree) but that it's just a business. I watch Joe, who chats with anyone, for the first time struggle to converse. Oh Schadenfreude. Thankfully (or sadly?), the train doors open and we go in, making sure to find a carriage as far away from seedy strip club manager as possible. 

It's dark now, so no point looking out the windows and taking in the scenery. We eat all our remaining food and turn on phones and check messages. Back to the real world.

Borders Abbeys Way 3

I wake up and take my earplugs out (Joe warned me that he might snore). Joe offers me a coffee. I say yes, then change my mind. No, I'm not a morning person, and my alarm woke me up in the middle of a weird dream. I tell Joe my dream, which was about a wedding of an old school friend that took place at my work place. I realise I talked about that school friend yesterday, and we also debated the merits of marriage. The dream wasn't that weird after all then.

In the sumptuous, tartan-heavy breakfast room we meet the other guests, from England and Barcelona. Joe gets a conversation going with everyone. Of course, the chat turns political at some point, and Joe handles it well. Diplomacy is not my strength so I keep my mouth shut. Joe eats most of my breakfast on top of his - it's too early in the morning for me to have haggis, sausages, bacon and black pudding.

We walk. There are brambles, raspberries and butterflies. On a hill we lie down and take a long break in the soft grass, looking for a nap. Joe tells me how nice it was to wake up next to me. I ask him not to repeat this statement out of context to anyone. Some other walkers come our way. Why they are not lying down and taking a break in such a great spot with wide views I don't understand.

When we continue walking I spot laundry on a line hung up all wrong. The socks are all over the place. I comment on this, and pretend that I really care about hanging up laundry a certain way, and I give Joe a lecture on mindful laundering. He can't tell whether or not I'm serious which amuses me. 

At Denholm, a sign announces a tea room but when we get there it's shut. We settle for the pub, which also serves cream tea, and we meet an Irish mother and daughter who are also doing the Borders Abbeys Way. They have rented a cottage, and the dad, who isn't walking, drives them to the starting points every morning, picks them up in the evening, and cooks dinner for them.

After Denholm, we pick up the path and walk along the Teviot, taking another long break on a pebbled beach, spotting more herons, and practise whistling and bird sounds. Joe teaches me advanced pigeon sound technique, and hand farts. I can't do the hand farts, but it's probably due to a lack of will rather than skill.

At Hawick, we find our host's B&B in an old mill building by the river. Vincent has a lovely three bedroom flat with high ceilings, and he recently redecorated it completely. He is looking to sell and move to Spain, and for his asking price you couldn't buy a basement studio in Edinburgh. He offers us a very generous glass of whisky, and I'm a bit tipsy before dinner. The recommended dinner option in Hawick is a Whetherspoon's, where we meet other walkers. Afterwards, we walk around town for a bit, through a dark cemetery and an even darker park before turning in for the night.

Holidays!

So, I'm away on holidays for most of September.

I'm spending a week up north in Torridon where I'll bag some munroes or corbetts, or if the weather is rubbish, do some easy coastal walks. And then I'll meet up with Kat in England where we'll finally finish the coast to coast walk that we started five years ago.

I'll be back in October with some walking reports.

Borders Abbeys Way 2

I meet Joe at the bus station in Edinburgh. I'm there first so I get the coffee. On the bus, we have a lot to catch up on, which sufficiently distracts me from getting car sick. Joe gets chatting with Joan, who is sitting in front of us and on her way to Kelso herself. She is on her own because her friend broke her arm. In Kelso, Joan takes us to Caroline's Cafe where we have our first break even before we've started the walk.

Chatting to random people is always a given with Joe - I remember a coffee break on our first walk together when I wanted to grab the coffee and sit outside in the sun, but looking at his face, I realised that he really wanted to chat with the proprietor, who wasn't even particularly chatty. So I mumbled something about having been outside all day and let's just sit inside, and we sat inside and Joe worked his magic and got the cafe owner's quite interesting life story out of him.

On walking out of Kelso we see our first abbey, Kelso Abbey. We follow the river Teviot and meet some anglers, one of which shows us the 4 pound trout he's caught. We have a long lunch break at a pebbly beach, throw pebbles and watch a heron. Back on the trail we get lost a bit, but realise that quickly - the waymarking is excellent.

When we arrive in Jedburgh after some leisurely 13 miles / 21 km, I wonder if my B&B booking has all worked out, and if we'll get a twin room as booked, and not a double. We haven't been friends for that long, so sharing a bed might be awkward! In any case, I've brought pyjama bottoms, and so has Joe.

Our host Amanda welcomes with "you're not vegetarians are you - you can tell vegetarians a mile away, they are always so pale" and shows us our tiny twin room. The two single beds are a hand-width apart - we look at each other and laugh nervously.

Amanda explains our dining options. Jedburgh pubs only serve food in the restaurant area, not in bar area. This means that it is difficult to get a table at all. We settle for the Indian restaurant which seems to be run by children. The service is erratic. The place is full, but no one seems to have food in front of them. They run out of pickle trays and we have to wait for our poppadoms until another table has finished theirs. When the food finally arrives it is nice, cheap and plentiful. After this, it's a walk back to the B&B, and sleep comes easily.

It is ok to walk in the dark and other lessons from my first outing with a mountaineering club

My trip with the Tweeddale Ramblers (*click*) may also count as an outing with a mountaineering club, but it was only a day walk.

This club is different. People are generally younger, the walking is more ambitious, and they go on weekend trips in the highlands every fortnight. Accommodation in hostels, bunk houses and mountaineering huts is arranged and very cheap. Lifts get shared, and communal evening meals are also sometimes organised.

The club meets in the pub every Thursday, and I had gone along a few times to see if people were nice. That confirmed, I joined them on a weekend trip in Roybridge. A whole weekend with a group of strangers in the remote Scottish highlands.

My car company was nice and chatty, but unfortunately I got very, very car sick on the drive up, sitting in the back and not wanting to make a fuss. That pretty much ruined my evening, and I was having trouble socialising. Socialising consisted of looking at maps and gear and planning the next day's adventures. That was the single topic of conversation. Everyone seemed to check with everyone else what they were planning on doing and who with, before making up their own minds. It amazed me that people in the end did have a plan.

The weather wasn't great. Lots of snow on the hills, and poor visibility. My plan was to walk through a river and along a glen, possibly up one or two corbetts if it was nice enough. I was happy to do it on my own, but ended up walking with three guys, who seemed to be in a rush to get this hill-walk done and over with and get back to the huts. Once I realised I'd rather continue alone at my own pace, I was on a hill in a whiteout and didn't know how to get down it, so I kept following the guys. Not exactly my kind of walking.

At night, we cooked together and had a nice chat and made plans for the next day. Trying to fit in, I talked about the long walks I had done, but in order not to risk my mountain cred, I didn't mention all the stages I had skipped...

The following day, I had to go where my driver was going, because his walk was on the route home, and he wasn't going to come back to the huts. We did a lovely walk up Creag Meagaidh nature reserve with a larger group of friendly people. They had some incredible stories to share.

There was the one of the guy who came down a hill very late at night and ran into a search party. He decided to join them, because on the hills you look out for each other. Only after a while did he realise that it was him they were searching for.

Another story was about this seasoned hill-walker who didn't make it back at night at all. He had gone up Creag Meagaidh as well. His wife was used to him coming down the hill quite late, but eventually in the morning she got concerned when he still hadn't come home, and she notified the mountain rescue. They walked up the usual route and took a break at the lochin before going up 'The Chimney' to the ridge. They had a cup of tea sitting down on the mountain rescue kit, a coffin-shaped wooden box for emergency shelter, when they suddenly heard a knocking sound. Yes, the guy they were looking for had turned his ankle in the evening, hadn't been able to make it down the hill, took shelter in the mountain resuce kit and fell sound asleep. And it never occurred to the rescue team to look inside!

I now always carry a head torch when out and about in the hills. It seems quite normal to most hill walkers to come down a hill after dark.

Borders Abbeys Way 1

Another long weekend, another long walk. My friend, let's call him Joe, who accompanied me on the last one, was keen to do another one. Usually a mountaineer, this different kind of walking was a revelation to him. The full walk report is coming out soon!

Wildlife

Longstone (where I live) is a jungle!

I keep running into my local badger when I cycle home at night, and the canal path is full of foxes, and earlier at night, rats.

And this morning, John was about to leave the flat when a magpie hopped down the stairs, past him, followed by our neighbour from upstairs who said that this was the third time this week he had to see a magpie out.

Pilgrimage 3

Monday: Wooler - Fenwick - Beal - Berwick-upon-Tweed

I still have the dorm to myself but I don't sleep too well anyway. But a full cooked English breakfast is waiting for me so I get up and make my way to the dining room. The table is set for two, everyone else is making their own breakfasts. My friend is nowhere to be seen so I order him some tea and am ready to take it to his dorm when he arrives. Phew, I didn't really want to set foot into a male dorm in the morning.

We say our goodbyes to the natural dying girls and the pilgrims, and leave to do the final stretch, 23 km (14 miles) to the coast. We won't be able to cross over to Holy Island today, because the tide will have come in by the time we make it to the causeway. Instead, my friend suggests we continue walking to Berwick-upon-Tweed, rather than taking the bus, from where we will take our train back to Edinburgh. This is a ridiculous idea, as it will add another 17 km (10 miles) to the day, so I agree.

We walk through Wooler and past a group of adolescent walkers who we soon leave behind, never to be seen again. We meet a gang of young bulls - or bullocks - the ones without balls anyway. They are quite friendly, curious and excited, mounting each other, and I'm feeling much braver when I'm past them and on the other side of the gate. Love is definitely in the air - three female sheep are at it nearby.

I'm feeling stronger today, slightly better rested, and we are leaving the Cheviots behind us - in theory, it's only downhill from here. We walk over a very old-looking bridge, Weetwood bridge, and a couple of ladies tell us it is medieval. We take a break on a grassy pillbox from the second world war. We visit St. Cuthbert's Cave in the woods, which has graffiti from the 18oos scratched into the large rocks, and we climb some boulders here.

When we leave the woods, a man warns us of another gang of cattle with offspring and offers us his stick to fend them off. We cross the field, and a group of people come our way, looking very scared and yet determined, trying hard not to make eye-contact with the cattle closing in. But the cows sense our fearlessness and leave us alone. We see the sea.

At Fenwick we carefully cross the fast A1 and then approach the rails. There's a phone here for calling the signalman to ask when it's safe to cross. He asks how many of us there are and how long it will take us to cross, and then he allows us to cross.

We watch the last cars on the causeway returning from the island before the tide comes in, and we make our way to the barn at Beal, a cafe, for a long break in the sun with a sea view. We decide to walk to Berwick-upon-Tweed. I'm not ready for the adventure to be over, and I don't know yet that it is another 17 km.

The walk to Berwick along the coast is lovely - at some point I take off my shoes and walk in the sea - my feet are loving it. They are complaining a bit though when I have to force them back into the boots. To keep our minds off the pain and the remaining miles we resolve to riddles and logic puzzles.

We pass a beautiful grand house on a cliff and I wish it was a hotel, taking us in, but we keep walking and eventually reach Berwick. We hobble into the town centre and have some food and wait for the train. A man is waiting with us and tells us that he owns the grand house on the cliff and runs it as a B&B.

On the train, my friend is absolutely shattered and can barely keep his eyes open. I'm actually not too bad and tease him by acting extra lively. We arrive in Edinburgh at 10 pm or so, and after 85 km (53 miles) in total, and 40 km (25 miles) today, I'm sore and I shiver from exhaustion, and I think this was an absolute beauty of a weekend.

Pilgrimage 2

Sunday: Kirk Yetholm - Hethpool - Wooler

It is Sunday morning and on entering the hostel kitchen, my friend gets me a coffee and fries me some duck eggs. That's the way to start the day! We chat with some grumpy Danish walkers, and with a girl who's doing the pilgrimage with her grandad. These pilgrims we will meet again.

We leave for our 20 km (13 miles) walk to Wooler - our shortest day. We soon have to climb our first proper hill, one of the Cheviot Hill range, and it feels much more strenuous than the previous day. Maybe the climb is steeper, but I'm also feeling a bit sleep-deprived and am less talkative than I have been. On top of the hill we take a break and a nap or two in the sun. When we continue walking we meet a bunch of Englishmen in an eerie forest plantation who tell us that we have already crossed the border - without noticing, we might even have taken a nap on it!

I  run out of chat, so I ask for most embarassing stories and uncover a goldmine! Of course nothing that I could share here.

We interrupt the day several times with long breaks and naps, but are still exhausted when, after a few lovely miles across a desolate moor, we arrive into Wooler where we shave half a mile off our walk by taking a shortcut on a road. The hostel is up a hill, but at least we each have a dorm to ourselves!

After a cup of tea and a bit of a rest, we freshen up and search for a pub for food. The Tankerville Arms, or the "Tanky" as the locals call it, is a mile down the hill, but the food is worth it. In fact, I get so excited about eating that I throw half a pint over my friend's lap. Oops. Sorry mate.

To make up for it I offer him a piggy- back up the hill back to the hostel but have to give up after a few meters. Also, the etiquette concerning arm placement of the piggy-backee is unclear.

Back at the hostel, we have more tea and a chat with the pilgrims who are also staying here, and with a group of three girls who are on their way to a course in "natural dying". This is about dying textiles with dyes made of plants, and has nothing to do with assisted dying.

A couple of retired Germans stop at the hostel to speak to the warden about something, and then join us for a chat about their trip through the UK. The man is originally from Peine, a German town near Braunschweig, where I lived for 10 years, and he is friendly and talkative, while his wife seems a bit shy with her English. They promise to stop if they see us hitchhiking tomorrow.

After all the walking, napping, and socialising, I am exhausted and ready for an early night.

Pilgrimage 1

Another long weekend, another long walk. Part-time working is paying off!

My original plan was to walk and wild camp in the highlands, but the weather forecast for the north looks unpleasant. Instead, I look south for alternatives, and discover St. Cuthbert's Way.

Following in St. Cuthbert's footsteps, this walk goes from Melrose Abbey in the Scottish Borders across the English border and the Cheviot Hills towards the sea, and over a causeway to the Holy Island of Lindisfarne off the coast of Northumberland. I convince a friend to join me, and as there is hostel accommodation on the way, we travel light.

Saturday: Bonjedward - Morebattle - Kirk Yetholm

On Saturday morning my friend awaits me with coffees at the bus station in Edinburgh. A bus takes us in 2 hours to Bonjedward just north of Jedburgh, where we join the trail at noon, walking 25 km (15 miles) to Kirk Yetholm. On the way, we visit and climb around in the ruins of Cessford Castle, and stop in Morebattle, where a Danish minister is restoring the derelict church building which in the meantime acts as a cafe.

There are no other walkers on the trail - but then we skipped the first leg of the walk (Melrose to Jedburgh), which most other walkers would have done on the Saturday, so we are one day ahead of everyone else.

Walking is effortless. It must be the nice company, conversation flows easily. I wonder if this will still be the case on day three.

We cross Wideopen Hill, the wind in the back pushing us up and over.

Walking into Kirk Yetholm in the evening, we find a wooden box with duck eggs for sale and buy some for breakfast. We have a chat with the locals about the merits of each of the two pubs in town, the Plough and the Border. The Plough sounds more fun, and indeed it is. We sit with lorry driver Mark who is at first a bit shy at admitting that he is collecting sheep to take them to the abattoir in Aberdeenshire, their final stop before Morrison's supermarkets. I think he's worried I might disapprove, because I look like a vegan.

While chatting and getting our food we also find ourselves in the middle of a lively pub-wide game of beer pong with the locals. Ping pong balls are flying high, and when we later check out the classier and much quieter Border Inn for a night-cap, the contrast is stark.

Back at the hostel I take a late shower and find a top bunk bed in the full dorm. The bunk beds shake whenever the girl below is moving, and despite an early start and a long day of walking, I'm not getting much sleep.

Updates 1

To keep those of my lovely friends, who I talk to in real life way too rarely, updated on my life, here's a list - who doesn't love a list?

• Top 1 news: I was promoted and now have the best job ever. At the interface of research and policy, I support local and national government in using evidence to fix child poverty in Scotland. I basically find out and explain what needs to be done to address the things that cause child poverty, and how this can be monitored. As a side benefit, this job might send me to the Shetland Islands.
• Related to this, I found going through the promotion board very stressful and was extremely relieved once that was done. Once the first paycheck arrives I'll be even happier. Also, no need  to try and impress anyone at work anymore, I can let my work speak for itself. Liberating.
• I bought a bivvy bag - this is a waterproof sac in which you stick your mat, your sleeping bag, and yourself and sleep in the hills. To be tested soon.

Moffat hills in February

Happy Chocolates-on-Special day everyone

This is what my flatmate got from her partner for Valentine's Day:

• a card outlining how weird and wonderful she is
• three bars of soap
• Swiss chocolate
• two blowtorches