15.5 miles – Strong winds swiftly alternating sunshine and clouds, some of which delivered stinging rain
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I crossed the border into England at 12:27, 38 days and half an hour after starting my trek.
England. Interestingly, it wasn’t one of the places on my list (see Day 27) to which I was longing to return – perhaps because England is so many things, some of which don’t sit comfortably with me.
Bleak? The Cheviots are certainly not like the north of Scotland; more ‘flamboyantly rolling’ than bleak – hills which are tumbling and diving like overgrown puppies at play. But slow-going for the walker. Some of them were flecked with sheep, one with a big, black bull, which I had to pass rather close by, and which then followed me (I don’t say ‘pursued me’) for an hour. I suspect that, like me, he thought that there was something worth having in that direction; still, I was glad when he settled for a patch of grass, not, I suspect, so unlike the one he had left.
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After Auchenhope Cairn the ground becomes flatter and boggier, which worked in my favour because in compensation the Way had been paved.
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The wind ripped over the peaks and ridges and funneled up the valleys, including Windy Gyle, which proved to be the blowiest place! Eventually I found a slightly less windy place to pitch the tent on top of a forest of heather, but would it stand up?
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Guy Harbottle
7 July 2022 at 07:46
Huzzah! Back in civilisation and not far from the wondrous metropolis of Harbottle! (I have to be honest – the old family seat has seen better days.)