Eddleston to Minch Moor Bothy

After probably the most elaborate breakfast I've ever eaten, I lazily strolled back into the usual routine, one foot followed by the other. I almost didn't notice the lack of rain and pleasant weather until a friendly dog walker remarked on it later.

Following a lane winding its way up the hillside, I was rewarded by ever increasing views over the shallow green valley and nearby slender wind turbines. A farm track led to the smooth grassy flanks of Hamilton Hill and a steep descent into the attractive town of Peebles, where I could stock up on valuable supplies.

I was also able to cross the wide and powerful River Tweed, and meet the minor road that would be my companion for most of the rest of the day. After a few miles my plan had been to cut through the gardens at Kailzie using the tracks marked on the map, and therefore reduce the monotony of following the B7062. Near the main house my luck ran out and I found my way blocked. Although it was tempting to try and sneak through, I decided that returning to the road was the easier option. I found this far more frustrating than expected, given how little extra I was forced to walk, and angrily tackled the tarmac again.

Around lunchtime I reached the large forestry commission car park at Cardrona, and stopped to munch on my sandwiches. It was a unexpected luxury to find the toilets were heated and had hot running water. I seriously contemplated spending the night here, like the wandering tramp I was slowly becoming, as my thoughts turned to the cold log cabin I was aiming towards. However, it would have meant a lot of hanging around waiting for people to go home and I decided I needed to get over the high hills of the Southern Uplands before the forecast blizzards arrive late tomorrow. Back to the road then.

After admiring a number of isolated grand buildings, on their own in the flat emptiness of the flood plain, I spotted a small sign indicating a footpath to a place called Howford. The map suggested this was on route. Although these green arrows could just be taking me into the forest and then abandoning me, I was getting tired of the tarmac. The path appeared to be an forgotten forestry track that has been reclaimed by lush vegetation. It didn't look like many people had passed this way, but it was pleasant to take this soft highway through the dense dimness of the forest.

The path turned into rough track and climbed steeply in places; hard work after the easy road walking. I was returned safely to the road and easily covered the last few miles, invigorated by the surprise respite. I arrived at the the small hamlet near the stately home of Traquair, with its legendary closed gates. It felt strange to be heading into the hills this late in the day, I'm usually heading into town to find shelter. I climbed slowly to the Scandinavian-looking bothy. The views over the gently rolling forested hills as the sun sank behind the trees were simply wonderful. After darkness fell I read the visitors book to pass the time, surprised by the number of entries from fellow end to enders.