write.as/jonbeckett

Ever since I knew I was coming to Scotland with work for two weeks, I knew I wouldn't be going home on the middle weekend, because the travel time required would make it impractical – I would spend all day travelling home, only to turn around after one night's sleep, and come straight back. Therefore the question became “what to do at the weekend?”. My other half suggested I pack my walking boots – in the end I wore them for the journey because they would take up so much room in my case.

While working this week, I almost forgot about the weekend, and then on Friday as we packed up at the end of the day, I asked the people in the room which were the best villages to visit. Immediately one of the women I have been teaching said “Melrose”, and gradually the rest of the room agreed with her. I pulled up Google Maps on the big screen in the conference room, and saw that it was easily within walking distance.

A walk to Melrose would have been fine on it's own, but then while researching the journey across the hills last night (and installing a GPS walking app on my phone), I realised there were two amazing hills to climb just south of the town – the “Eildon Hills”. Suddenly the day ahead was exciting.

This morning I woke at 7, and watched the clock for an hour before wandering down to breakfast within moments of the hotel restaurantopening. I ordered a “Full English Breakfast” (egg, sausage, bacon, eggs, black pudding, beans, fried tomato, and potato hash), knowing I would need it – the GPS app had predicted something in the region of 24km of walking. After eating I grabbed my bag, coat, and phone, and headed out the door. A trip to the newsagent across the road yielded a chocolate bar, and a sport drink. I figured the chocolate bar would be a good reward for getting to the top of the hills.I would buy lunch at Melrose, instead of carrying it.I wish I had recorded the time as I set out.

The first hour of the journey seemed to be an endless slog out of town – a couple of miles until I finally left the road, and headed through a farmyard, and out into the fields. The ground underfoot was pretty hard going – soft mud, and jagged rocks everywhere but slowly gave way to open fields, filled with grazing sheep, and buffeted by bracing winds. Checking the GPS app from time to time, I slowly made my way around the edge of Cauldshiels Hill, and onto Cauldshiels Loch. The path around the loch was excellent. I met an angler with his dog along the way, and we said hello – unbelievably he was the first person I had seen since leaving Selkirk.

After leaving the Loch, I entered a seemingly endless wood – filled with towering trees, many of which had fallen in the wind and blocked the various paths. The wood was beautiful though, and I ended up expecting to find Gruffalo footprints in the mud along the way.

Leaving the wood gave my first real glimpse of the Eildon Hills, and the realisation that I might have bit off more than I could chew. To get to them I would have to walk down from the hills to Tweedbank, and along the road to Melrose before doubling back on myself. Technically, Icouldhave gone in a straight line across farmers fields, but wanted to keep to the footpaths – I wasn't about to start trespassing. I checked the GPS app, and the best approach seemed to be a direct climb up the steepest slope – because then the second hill, and the drop into Melrose were far easier gradients. Better to get the hard work out of the way first, right?

After a seemingly endless climb back towards the Eildon Hills, I started clock watching. I had been walking for 3 hours already, and was getting tired. I figured if I could get to the top of the first hill by 1pm, I would have earned the chocolate bar. I ended up topping-out the climb half an hour faster than that, but it took a huge amount out of me. The final quarter of a mile was a 45 degree slope, with a fair amount of scrambling. Adding the howling wind, and the fact that I had already walked about 8 miles to that, and I was starting to struggle – reduced to climbing 50 yards, and stopping, climbing 50 yards, and stopping again. Turning around at one point, already light headed from the effort, I had to sit down for a moment – I was really high now – I could see all of Melrose and Tweedbank, and out across the rolling hills in all directions.

At the top of the steep climb – Eildon “Mid Hill” – I spent a few minutes taking photos, but was having real difficulty standing still in the wind. I braced myself against the trig point at the top of the hill (most significant hills in Britain have triangulation points on top of them, usually decorated with bronze plaques pointing to other markers), but after a short while thought “bugger this”, and headed down out of the wind, picking my way down a pretty treacherous path before climbing the “North” hill.

The North hill was much, much easier. Instead of being a direct route, the path wound around the hill, turning it into an enjoyable amble, taking photos as I went. I had been rationing the energy drink throughout the morning, but figured Melrose was just below me now – so stopped worrying about it quite so much. I also stuffed the chocolate bar, which had become rock hard in the biting winds.

While descending from the North Hill, just before I left the hill and started down a managed path towards the town, I met to men walking towards the hill. They had been climbing from the village, and took the chance while I crossed a stile to take a breather. As I approached, they shouted:

“We're jealous of you!”

“Why?”

“Because you've already done the hill! Which one did you do?”

“Both”

“You did BOTH!”

I didn't have the heart to tell them I had also walked across the hills from Selkirk before doing them, and was about to walk back. I did tell them what I was doing next though.

“I need a pint!”

“The pubs are that way” (we all laughed, as they pointed where they had just come from).

In the end I spent a couple of minutes talking, and passed on the little I could about the hills – that the North hill was much easier, mainly because the paths were more managed. They thanked me, and I continued my descent into Melrose.

After a descent down the longest series of wooden steps ever seen anywhere by anybody (no, seriously, you have to see them to believe them), I was suddenly in the street in Melrose. I headed for a shop to buy food, and then straight to a pub called “The Kings Arms” – mainly because it had a public bar, and I had walking boots on. While drinking my drink, I started worrying about the time, and how long it might take to get back to Selkirk. I was going to re-trace the route through the woods, around the loch, and back across the hills, but knew it might take in the region of three hours. It was already 2pm. It would get dark by 6pm. I drank up and set off once again.

The trudge back through Melrose, towards Tweedbank was long and boring. On the way it had been exciting, because I was heading towards the hills – now I was just concerned about getting back. I also knew I was getting tired, so the walk back might take longer. I didn't figure on blisters either.

Slowly but surely, my left foot had become more painful throughout the day – the boot was rubbing only slightly, but enough that by the time I finished picking my way through the woods, and around the loch again, it felt like somebody was plunging a red hot poker into my boot. Then I had a brainwave. Although I had emptied everything heavy from my bag in the morning, I had left a packet of Nurofen in the top pocket (Nurofen is a brand of Ibuprofen). I took two tablets, and what do you know – half an hour later the pain had magically gone away.

I won't pretend the walk back was easy – it wasn't. My legs were starting to get tired, and each climb slowed me more and more. Finally I found myself in the farmyard once again though, and just a few miles of roads left. It was around this point that I looked at the GPS app for the first time in a while, and surprised myself – it was reading something in the region of 27 kilometresso far – and I still had a long way to go back into Selkirk.

The final count was 32 kilometres. 20 miles. 7 and a half hours in the hills.

I took my boots off in the lobby of the hotel, climbed the stairs to my room, and sat on the corner of the bed to find out exactly how bad the foot was (notthat bad, all things considered, but it stung like crazy in the shower a few minutes later). Half an hour later I was washed, re-dressed, and sipping a drink in the hotel bar.

I'm not doinganything tomorrow.