St Abbs to Berwick upon Tweed

This week was mostly a holiday in Berwick upon Tweed, but on Monday I walked from St Abbs with Poppy and Mike, and on Tuesday I led a writing workshop at Berwick Library. Apart from the fact that some of the participants thought they’d come to a talk, the workshop went very well. One man said he’d opened up parts of himself he hadn’t known were there, which is pretty good feedback if I say so myself.

I’d met Mike for the first time two days before. I wasn’t sure if he really wanted to spend the whole day walking, or if he was just being nice. 15 miles is a lot of nice.

We got the bus out of Berwick. It was  20 mins late but no one waiting at the bus stop seemed worried or bothered and there was no apology or explanation when it arrived. Maybe timetables are a bit more relaxed around here. Soon we were shooting up the A1, past the Welcome to Scotland sign, then off onto country lanes with no slowing down. Most people got off in Eyemouth, but the bus rattled on to Coldingham and St Abbs where we got off feeling slightly sick.

We started along the coast path.

Poppy wasn’t comfortable. She unzipped the bottoms off her trousers, but that wasn’t enough. She removed her boots.

We walked across Coldingham beach, which was lovely, and into the next rocky cove, where there were amazing rock pools.

It wasn’t good for bare feet. Poppy replaced her boots. We were getting off to a slow start.

We walked along beaches and low cliffs and through fields.

I told Mike that I used to take heads of wheat as a child and eat the grains, He tried it and was enamoured. Poppy tried it with a head of barley but it just wasn’t the same. She tried chewing the wheat and spitting it out, hoping she wasn’t setting up problems for herself.

In Eyemouth we bought icecreams and had a closer look at the Herring Queens we’d spotted earlier from the bus. The town’s annual contest for the Queen of the fishing town began in 1939. All  the previous queens are on banners around the town. Here are a couple.

If you want to see more go to http://www.ehq.org.uk/category/past-herring-queens/

As we left the town we walked through the docks. Poppy and I felt strange walking around winches and lorries loading and unloading, as though we were trespassing. Mike said, they don’t just eat chips and ice cream, it’s an industry. It kind of made sense of the Herring Queen, that there was something here she needed to preside over and protect. It made it more than just a beauty contest.

We walked over a golf course where the signs reminded us we were in Scotland.

Then across the cliff tops until we reached Burnmouth Bay. At the bottom of the hill down from Burnmouth the road goes two ways, one to Partanhall, the other to Cowdrait. There’s nothing else down there and the road stops with these two villages. We thought about living here, what it would be like in winter. I think I would feel trapped. I wondered if Etheldreda took shelter in settlements like this.

This is the town centre

There was also a tiny sculpture of the women left behind after the Eyemouth Fishing Disaster of 1881 when 189 local fisherman lost their lives.

We stopped in Cowdrait for lunch, accompanied by swans. We were halfway and we’d taken four hours. We needed to speed up.

The next stretch followed the railway line, and much of it was along cliff tops necessitating single file. We got into a good stride.

Poppy appreciated signs like this.

There were beautiful views.

When we reached the border there was no welcome to England sign, but this on the other side of the fence.

I think somebody should do something about that.

By the time we reached Marshall Meadows we were flagging. 

We were low on water. Poppy decided not to walk in DMs again as she was finding them too heavy. Mike said his feet hurt a bit. I wondered if he was being polite.

The paths were neatly mown here, and we met some goats.

See that caravan site in back ground? Well, as we walked through it we saw an outside tap and decided to fill our water bottles. I filled mine first; a tin bottle decorated with a penguin book design. I took a long drink as Mike filled his clear plastic bottle from the tap. Eughh! he said as I lowered my bottle, what’s that? The water in his bottle was swarming with earwigs. I looked into mine, and there they were - loads of them swimming about. We emptied them and the water onto the grass and I tried to remember if I’d felt anything in my mouth or throat as I swallowed. I'm sure I would have noticed. Wouldn't I?

I’d just drunk from an earwig infested bottle. Now we had no water. Was this the right impression to be making on my daughter’s boyfriend at our first meeting?

Luckily it was not much further. We were too hot and tired to talk much, but we carried on past caves and natural arches…

 … across another golf course and back into Berwick upon Tweed. We’d done the second half in half the time. 

14.7 miles

South Witham to Oakham

We left the Blue Cow through a gate in the corner of the pub car park and followed a footpath through some fields. This was fine for a while. We saw other dog walkers and it was obviously a popular morning stroll. Then the path reached a road and the other dog walkers turned back. The path was meant to continue across the next field, but the farmer must have realised that nobody ever went that far and he’d ploughed up the path along with the rest of the field, which meant we had to walk across a huge ploughed field in the morning sun.

By the time we reached the gap in the far hedge I was ready to cry. Both Wilf and I were pouring with sweat. Johnny was completely dry and didn’t see what all the fuss was about. We crossed the road to find the path continued across yet another ploughed field.

I felt ready to give up there and then. In the whole ten days this was the worst moment. I trudged on, eyes on my feet, the dog at my heels, both of us trying to avoid the stalks sticking out of the mud, the sun beating down, half an eye on Johnny up ahead so as not to lose direction.

Eventually we rejoined the Viking Way and the path became the familiar field edge. Wilf cheered me up with an A-Z of one syllable boys’ names (much easier than girls’).

The walk improved from then on, passing through the villages of Greetham, Exton and Whitwell in quick succession.

There were huge trees.

Lovely views.

More ploughed fields, which luckily we didn’t have to walk across, and which were populated by seagulls.

And this guy!

The guide book said that Exton was the prettiest village on the whole walk, and maybe it was right, but it was a bit too chocolate box for my taste.

After a short stop in Whitwell we walked down to where the Viking Way reaches Rutland Water.

It was a hot day in August and the car parks were crammed. There were people barbequeing, walking, playing games, buying ice creams, cycling.  It made us realise just how few people we’ve seen in the past ten days. A few years ago we walked the Coast to Coast path from St.Bees Head to Robin Hood’s Bay, and we met loads of people. The path was rarely empty ahead or behind, and every B&B had other coast to coasters staying there. We’d met one other couple doing the Viking Way. We’d walked paths for mile after mile and not seen a soul. Rutland Water was definitely a culture shock.

Although there were only geese in this bit.

We walked for a mile or two before stopping to eat a picnic we’d bought in the shop in South Witham (yes, a village with a pub and a shop!). Our plan was to get the bus along the last stretch to Oakham. However, when we reached the road there were no bus stops. It was a fast A road. Walkers and cyclists were catered for with a good path at a reasonable distance from the traffic.

Three miles still to go and we'd thought we’d done. The path was mostly in full sunlight. We saw the bus we'd hoped to catch pass us at speed – no way of flagging it down.

It was a long hot slog . Wilf and I cheered ourselves up with an A-Z of superpowers, and Wilf did a hilarious performance of the A-Z of noises you make on the toilet.

Eventually we reached Oakham.

We signed a huge leatherbound book in the library to say we’d completed the Viking Way – there were only three pages filled since last year – maybe ten or twelve entries.

Then we sat down in a pub garden and celebrated before getting the train back home.

13.5 miles

Woolsthorpe to South Witham

This would be a good way to spend an evening at The Chequers:  Arrive by car – someone else driving – in your glad rags with a friend or friends. Brings lots of money. Try one or more of their amazing cocktails. Order a three course meal. It won’t make you feel uncomfortable, because the portions are sized to make three courses just the right amount to eat. The food is amazing. It’s won the Good Pub Guide Food Award for a number of years. Have a bottle of wine, or a few. Relax after your meal with coffee and a good malt whisky or a brandy.  Have the person who dropped you off earlier pick you up and drive you home. Don’t be tempted to stay overnight because this isn’t where you want to have your hangover, despite their Hangover Bacon Sandwich and Bloody Mary – which will both undoubtedly be good.

Not that we had hangovers – but it’s just not breakfast friendly. Or maybe we just didn’t fit their profile. We were sweaty and hungry with a limited budget. We were on foot. They were professional, polite, they did nothing wrong at all – but that’s not really what I want at breakfast before setting off on a long walk. The proprietor was wearing a little black dress and smart shoes at 8.30am. They served the best breakfast so far, but we enjoyed staying there the least.

We walked away from the Vale of Belvoir with its castle shining in the morning sun. It was very beautiful.

It was a day of wildlife. First some amazing trees, including this walnut.

Leafy lanes though dappled woodland.

Then we reached The Drift, an old drovers road which is also a nature reserve.

Johnny got very excited.

It was a walk through sunshine with flowers and butterflies.

A list of butterflies which wouldn’t stay still to be photographed: peacock, brimstone, painted lady, common blue, comma, holly blue, small skipper, ringlet, meadow brown, gatekeeper,red admiral, green-veined white, small white, large white, small tortoiseshell.

Some flowers which did:

Wild Mignonette

Scabious

Red Campion

 Woolly Thistle

Teasel

There were, of course, many more. Johnny wasn’t only lagging behind because of his feet.

At one point a red kite flew above us, swooping back and forth above our heads, following us for about half a mile.

Lovely though it was, it was a long lane. Wilf and Johnny had sore feet. We were pleased to reach Sewstern where we were greeted by ponies…

…  and welcomed by the Blue Dog.

Our stay tonight is at The Blue Cow Inn 3 miles away. I looked up blue animals and found they are a feature of the Grantham area. As well as the dog and the cow there has at some time been a Blue Pig, Blue Lion, Blue Horse, Blue Bull, Blue Ram, Blue Sheep, Blue Lamb, and Blue Man. It’s a political thing. They were all originally Whig pubs.

The last stretch of the walk was long and tedious – though it was only 3 miles it was along muddy tracks and on the road and we were hot and tired. We kept ourselves going with A-Zs of breakfast foods and one syllable girls names.

Eventually we arrived at the Blue Cow which is nothing like The Chequers. We were welcomed with huge portions of tasty food, the dog got almost more fuss than she could take,  and nobody was wearing a black dress.

14 miles