Scotnatrail days 5-7 Three Brethren to Pentlands regional park - quiet paths and open land

Day 5 three brethren to Peebles. Southern uplands way

The morning doesn’t break but creeps slowly: low cloud has been born in the night’s cold. So leg bottoms back on my trousers today. I pack up the tent, sorting my stuff beside the lovely drystone wall - at two heights stones stick out regularly and make the perfect shelves for my stuff. The change of weather hardly makes it less magical up here on the old (13th century) drove road. Small Chirping birds fly out from the grass

Also loving the fact there’s full signal and 4g up here- could live life to full content.

I should be making quick progress up here as it’s a decent Long day to go, but I walk slowly and keep stopping: it’s too pretty to rush this beauty and I don’t want to leave.

523m summit at Browne Knowe, though it doesn’t particularly feel like I’ve climbed much, as it was only around 100m gently up after yesterday’s big slog, and Three Brethren, though 460m somehow felt higher.

As I say I no longer believe in the idea of a soul or Christian doctrine - the human mind is FAR too wonderful and complex an organ to be captured by faith alone , but the concept of free will has been one I always find confusing (yes it’s confusing nonsense but really interesting confusing nonsense), I never quite knew what it actually means. But out here I feel closer to understanding the idea; it is choice alone that has brought me here, moving against the inertia of everyday life; I would be at home otherwise, stationary and passing life in such a way that time disappears in monotony. But time here flows differently: memories of the great outdoors become paused and stretch for years, so you can touch them and recall the time you stood listening to the wind across a heather pillowed heath. My will is unconstrained and I find myself here.

The path eventually descends towards forest, my hand are once again purple from feasting in bilberries for a very long time (essential nutrients therefore justified?). Then suddenly into pine? regimented Forestry, the distinctive pine smell infusing the air, and ground squishy with their needles. I push on to the Cheese Well which I reach for ‘breakfast’ (elevenses). An informative sign tells me that this high track, Minchmoor road, was once the main route across southern Scotland - imagine this in a carriage on a stormy night. Even being a highwayman up here was probably scary! It’s no surprise at all that the Cheese Well has stories of fairies (travellers dropped in cheese to placate them). In Smith of Wooton Major, Faery is a place - imagining this place on an autumn eve I can see it; mists swallowing the heather, sounds muffled by the winds, and stars up above, while every step off the path threatens to bury you in an unknown bog, while distant lights bob in the haze, unsure if they are coming or going or never really were.

I see a lovely little shrew scampering across the track, and grouse bursting out of the heather. Only one walker and a few mountain bikers. Finally descend to Traquir. Another information board about The southern uplands way - a lot of promotion!

Traquair has an interesting history, also apparently the manor was required to ‘keep the road through Minche Moor from robbers’ for the 1305 fair.

I sit for a bit by the long entrance to Traquair house, apparently the oldest house in Scotland and visited by 27 kings! In the end I decided not to go in as I can’t do it justice in the time I have though it sounds fabulous and fascinating (and you have to pay entry to get to the cafe which is rubbish) I do however get a good view through the grand ‘bear gates’ down the avenue to the house.

I’ve left the Southern Uplqnds Way now. Saw my first sheepdog in action of the trail (unlike Glyndwrys way where that was all you saw). It is suddenly very like wales actually: piles of slate beside the path, with ferns beginning to grow over them. I wander if there’s a big picture reason for that. The footpath is much more closed over with bracken than I’ve become used to on the national trails, so do not enjoy. During lunch on a fallen tree in the woods it begins to rain so I put in rain clothes, though it stops soon after. I’m bored and tired, eyes sore, so finely bring out headphones for the first time and put on a podcast.

I get into Cardona, and head to the little cafe their at the old station, Nashys - daily tea and cake, quite enjoying this!- sitting outside the two ladies opposite start chatting with me; a very Scottish mother and her daughter, the older lady was wonderful, had a really good really long natter with them, so much life stories! - one of those old ladies who have such a lifetime of wisdom it is a privilege to listen to them nattering. In a really moving moment, when talking about her daughters, she is moved to tears reflecting on her daughter who has been leading a respiratory ward through the pandemic, even thinking about this I am also emotional.

Still in mountain biking territory I head on along a tarmaced cycle route on the path of the old railway that runs for 6km to Peebles. A man on roller skies passes, like those we saw in Estonia. I am really impressed with myself with the speed I make along this flat path, at 4.8 km/hr covering 3km straight before letting myself have a break on a bench (had sore feet from the morning and tarmac is brutal for them) - my normal average is often MUCH less than 3 - spot on the maps.me predicted time which is normally accurate for me when I have no bag and am not tired. I tend to say I do 5km in 2 hours, including decent breaks in that time, though not cafe length breaks. I think using my walking pole really does propel me. The final three kms away from the cycle lane, along the lovely as always river tweed.

I get into my hotel room at the Green Tree, Peebles at 17:15. Given that I sent a WhatsApp from the bench at 16:37 means again around 4.5km/hr.

the hotel room is wonderful, I see a lovely picture of dad with Grannie reading my blog so have a lovely call with Grannie as I unpack everything and spread it about the room.

I turn on the olympics brush my hair and have a wonderful long shower. I would have been fine to do another night wild camping, don’t feel I smell tooo much, and have another change of clothes still, but pah nothing wrong with a bit of luxury! Which a private room telly and comfy bed certainly is!

A very long shower and washing all my clothes.

I decide not to leave and have dinner in the hotel restaurant - they can do so much gluten free even macaroni cheese but I go for ham egg and chips. I spend the evening editing the blog and also making a reel of my video clips from night 4, it was so magical I needed to share it a little.

Day 6 - Peebles to Flemington Burn. Cross borders drove road way. Humid and the start of rain

I have a big breakfast in the hotel and whatched olympics as I pack. The rain has arrived. I did 23km yesterday (maybe 21 as I did a bit more the night before on the moor), on Cotswold Way, 24km was a BIG day and a huge challenge, but now all my days under 20 seem a bit pathetic, it’s not I don’t feel tired, just I’m capable of more. What has changed? My fitness can’t have as I’ve been sitting in a uni room for a term doing exams, must be a mental change, to how I perceive what I can do. The next two days are both around 18km.

Stayed in my room to watch the women’s madison - increadible race with Laura Kenny and Katie Archibald smashing it.

I leave the hotel at 10 and walk through town, a little boy walking past whispers to his mum ‘she looks like an explorer’, what an incredible feeling, to feel like you are inspiring a little kid - hopefully he too one day becomes an explorer! Go to Sainsbury’s then to the Cross Kirk, and see a woman leaving an auction house with a pram and a grim reaper scythe. I go to Tesco’s too. Then walking.

I didn’t fill up 2l at the hotel, thinking to fill up at a campsite at the edge of town, but there taps were off. I will probably have to filter then.

I start up the hill and am soon baking hot and dripping- the air is humid and stuffy; though torrential rain is talked of, so I stop soon in a cute little hut on the hill.

It’s raspberries this morning, that I’m picking from the bushes. The countryside is beautiful here, it’s farmland, but open pasture land , full of grasses and meadow flower and patched with lovely pine woods (just to say I can’t really remember the difference between spruce fur and pine so am using them for my best guess which is probably wrong!). I here rumblings to the west, the start of the storm?? I’m looking around for streams to fill up, deciding to keep going.

Passing near a second house I see someone on a computer inside, and get up the courage: mask on I ask if they have an outdoor tap where I can fill up, and the lady who comes, in riding clothing takes my bottles to fill up inside- so glad I was brave to ask! Much better than whatever peaty bog water I would have filtered! The thing is, people will ALWAYS help you, it’s just the bravery to ask for that help that’s hard to summon. And walking helps me learn that bravery, and learn the commonness of kindness in people. Thank goodness I do as well, because bef9re I got to the boggy Ford where I’d have filtered it started to Chuck it down. Heavily. Welcome to Scotland. Fortunately I already had my waterproofs out so a quick matter of putting them on then sweating up a hill into pine forestry.

I keep thinking of the book I was reading before I left; the Final Empire, it’s so strange to leave a great book half way- nice because you know there’s so much more to be enjoyed, but so painful as your desperate to know what happens next! They didn’t have it on the Cambridge library app. I haven’t checked to see if it can be purchased for audio but I sort of don’t want to listen to it as a first read as that can spoil the experience. Maybe I could get it out of a library in Edinburgh and read it for a day, but ugh! I have so much to do in Edinburgh. It’s a feeling so intent, and unsatisfiable so I go and find a podcast by Brandon Sanderson the author. Not enough signal to stream though so listen to PPP instead - helms deep.

I’m also thinking about how thankful I am I didn’t cut my hair! It has been such a joy to me, my long hair, and it’s journey of growth from when I cut it all the way back - the one thing I consider pretty and I adore being able to experiment with fancy hairstyles. I was worried it would get all tangled and dry like it often does when outside a lot, but it hasn’t at all! Brushing twice a day and walking with my two plaits trapped beneath the breast strap of my rucksack has not caused any tangle at all - in fact it seems healthier with less regular washing.

The rain isn’t persistent though, so I have good time to dry out between showers. I eat lunch on a mossy fallen tree in the forestry. Exiting into a patch of open moor (where one lonely, boarded up house sits surrounded by forest), I see a buzzard swooping overhead. Passing through more mossy woods, the land feels remote.

I sit for a long boots off break on a wooden footbridge, conscious I have time to kill and eat my apple. Then out onto moor. A stream below meanders in complex patterns

I reach a bench on the moor just beyond and realise that this is a decent place to wild camping, and I have been concerned that the ‘quarries before west Linton’ where I planned to camp might not be a good sight as there are more houses nearby. Uncertain as it’s not even yet 16:00, I decide this is probably as good, and it leaves me longer to do tommorrow which will help with getting there later. So I go to explore the moor. After wandering half way up the hill, I head back down, and go to explore the flat place I spotted across the Ford of the stream. It does seem a pretty decent spot- I am worried of lightening and so want to camp somewhere low, and I think all the deer fences around ought to protect? I call mum there. Then as it starts to rain again I head back into the woods to the bridge I was at earlier to wait out the afternoon.

I sit under the shelter of pine trees

listening to PPP. The rain lessens. I finish off the bar of fancy chocoltate mum got me - ate the other half as a reward for summiting Three Brethren. I wait till 6 then set to work on dinner. First filtering water, which takes 15 minutes for two litres even with easy access to a nice steam. Then cook my pasta and my hot chocolate on the lovely foot bridge, though it is now damp from the rain that fell between me sitting there first time. I enjoy the peace f this part of the trail, having not seen anyone at all on it. I thought I would dislike that, as I did on Glyndwrs way, but the freedom of being alone is so satisfying: knowing I can sit across the path in undesturbed peace - they’ll be other parts of the trail with other people, and that will be fine too, but quiet paths give me more security in seeking discrete places, knowing that no one has seen me eat, and no one will see me set up camp, though I still do them in separate places for reassurance . After I sit on the woody bank by the stream listening to my podcast, and seeing if I can use the hollow centre of the long grass as a mini pipet, sucking the mini droplets off my waterproof and placing them on my fingernail. At 8 I head back to the low spot of the moor I saw earlier by the track Ford and go to set up my tent. By the time I’m ready for bed it’s 9:30 - but doesn’t feel late to me at all, the long light days are misleading, and I suppose a shorter day walking has also made me less tired. The evening temperature has not dropped due to the cloud cover - fingers crossed their will be little condensation then.

Day 7 - Flemington burn to Pentland Hills Park.- cross borders drove road & Pentland hills - overcast

The hummocky ground left a very big lump in the middle of my tent that made sleeping interesting. But I was right about the condensation: the overclouded night left no dew in the morning which was rather nice. I seem to have lost the ability to get ready quickly - can’t remember what the nack was - so 1.5-2 hours and I’m packed to leave, and I see a backpacked Walker up on my path on the hill. Another thing I love about my bag, is just how much Stuff I can fit on the outside; theirs ALWAYS more space in the outside pocket, and then I stack on top of that clothes to dry, trapped by the stretchy yellow cord - and as always I am a walking washing line.

I cross the fords for a fourth time and rejoin the Cross Borders Drive Road. I don’t think I ate enough yesterday - my tea and cake stops have probably been important supplementary sources of calories and I was conscious of feeling hungry through the night.

The name Flamington for the burn somehow brings to my head the word ‘Flammifer’, light bringer - used for the place of ‘lucifer’, for obvious reasons - though sad that such connotations belong to such a beautiful word. My own name comes from the same origin. Light. Disappearing in the skys and dreamworld, or watching patiently for the dawn.

I have been glad to be able to wear my trousers as shorts - I was worried I wouldn’t be able to because of ticks and all but that hasn’t been an issue at all. Even these more overcast days are of good temperature - perhaps more ideal for walking in than the beautiful sun. There’s a fine haze of rain and I eat some damp raspberries. Chat with a posh old couple - every time I tell people I am happy to give up on the way I fell more confident that I will make it. I learn my first lesson from not to Ignore the route plan, having to thrash a path through wet grass at the quarry where I planned to camp (glad I didn’t! My place was so much nicer). The rain stops as I walk along the road to West Linton. Painfully my mind keeps thinking over unhappy memories from last term. I have moved on, why can’t my memory? This is not the place to confide my thoughts in writing, though writing does give me solace when my mind whirs - it helps to remove thought to letters and see them. Put them into phrases and let the passion sit there, not within me. Ah be quiet mind.

It makes me think of the poem …. ‘ all things but language, know the meaning of existence …..

Trees, flowers, rivers, time

know nothing else.

They express it, moment by moment as the universe….

Even this fool of a body

would have full dignity in it

but for the ignorant freedom of my wandering mind.’

Rain doesn’t hold off long so I am very pleased to see the Old Toll Tea House in the middle of West Linton. Sadly don’t have room indoors but get tea cake and a huge bowl of soup. Thankfully there is space inside when the rain starts again. Still in cycling territory: this is definitely a biker’s coffee stop. It’s after 1 when I leave West Linton (interesting village with carvings).

I’m tired, and the weather doesn’t make for a jolly walk, and I put my headphones away somewhere I can’t remember. Swang on a rope swing above the village then made friends with some pigs. I pass a couple picking raspberries (they are still lovely but have suffered in the rain) on the path of a Roman road, and a dog -Ronna- takes very ill to me passing it’s house, the owner very apologetic!

Reaching Carlops, I see an impressive rock outcrop, that I can’t figure out - seemingly random cracks. An information sign says that a fault line runs along the A702, with Devonian and Silurian rocks in the Pentland Hills, and Carboniferous to the south east

I continue on towards to pub for a cup of tea, I know I just stopped but needed the toilet and fancied a real one! It’s a wonderful old fashioned pub - the manager talks of their problems. The village to is lovely, though on the main road, with every house painted white but with so windows and doors of a different shade and little front gardens - some reason makes me think of Katy Morag.

As I return to open hills, two large birds of prey circle overhead, calling to each other.

Suddenly I come out on a wonderful view of the North Eske Reserviour, a little hut perched beside its dam, and heather about. I’d stupidly forgotten to get water at the pub so I filter at the reservoir , using a little jetty for access - looks brown though…? So add two tablets to 1.5l to be sure

The reservoir is quite lovely in afternoon light: dulverton Hide looking out over islets where geese nest. Again the same bird of prey flying overhead - it’s call is distinctive, I video it to figure out later, - ey’a ey’a ey’a

It’s great this Pentlands Hills Park - a sort of huge southern border to greater Edinburgh. Heather covered hills and no guess from the ground of its extent. The wind picks up and sounds gusts through the valleys. I’ve been climbing up, it’s almost 6 so thinking of dinner, and suddenly at the crest of a hill the view before: Edinburgh!! And a huge rain storm over western - but I can see the Firth of Forth, it’s three bridges:

A huge suspension bridge with flashing f lights on the 3 posts, , the red railway bridge, and an urban sprawl to the east. Time to get dinner on before that rain comes in!

I cook my pasta in the shelter of the wall, though there’s not much left as I miscalculated, but can supplement with left over pitta and oatcakes. As I never ate my lunch today, I get to add my lemon and pepper tuna to my tomato soup - yummy. A friendly local cycler comes by - he’d failed to stay on on the hills! Midge do begin to discover this nice smelling wind shadow though.

After dinnner, at 7:30 I leave my bag at the wall and go to explore. There’s an over grown track of layed down tree

trunks, possibly coming from the old quarry labelled on the map. I decide my place where I eaten, at the hilltop behind the stone wall, is as good a any. It’s right on the path but can’t be seen till you get right near, sheltered from the wind, and if lightning does strike, it’s more likely to hit the tall sign post than me right? I wait till 8 to set up though, sitting on the gate to maximise breeze and minimise midges (who are swarming behind mY wall and about my bag). the midges get tired and go to bug bed as I go to mine