Melrose to Jedburgh

Fair maiden Lilliard lies under this stane
Little was her stature, but muckle was her fame;
Upon the English loons she laid mony thumps
And when her legs were cuttit off, she fought upon her stumps.
AD 1544

Steep steps led upwards out of town, followed by a sweaty climb up the grassy slopes of the Eildons. Sharing the wide col between these shapely hills with dawn dog walkers, we gazed out over the misty plains to distant faded uplands. Since I had mentally prepared to be soaked by now, this moment of serenity felt pretty special.

The Southern Upland Way had turned north, but not wanting to leave the simple pleasures of a long distance trail I had turned onto St Cuthbert's Way. After tackling the aforementioned isolated peaks of the Eildons this took me on a winding path through small woods, fields, quaint villages and muddy ravines until I was once again alongside the mighty Tweed. Wooden steps led up and down the steep wooded riverbank and slippery bridges crossed small tributaries. All good walking until I emerged into town at St Boswells.

I chickened out of following the waymarked route around the next huge meander in the river, and took to the road for a more direct approach. I soon tired of the featureless tarmac and tall hedges but was eventually rescued by the ancient Roman road known as Dere Street. The first break of the day was taken on a small plank of a bridge, over a muddy stream mainly fed by runoff from the nearby main road. It was not a particulary special spot, but these moments of stillness within the pressure to make progress are close to elysium (thinking like a legionary).

Following Dere Street in the direction of York, it alternates between a muddy track or a path weaving between spiky bushes in a thin strip of grassland between fields. History is everywhere, from the grave of Lady Lilliard who would probably want to thump this English loon with one of her bloody stumps to stone monuments on neighbouring hills like the octogonal form of Baron's Folly or the dome of Monteath's Mausoleum.

The straight line of the Roman road was interrupted by Monteviot House, and I followed the complicated diversion to the impressive suspension bridge. Although modern, a lot of wood has been used in the wide span, providing plenty of enjoyable creaking and wobbling. From here I strolled along the river bank back to the course of the ancient road.

Not long after, it was time to leave Dere Street to seek shelter in the border town of Jedburgh. After a bit of a slog, I found myself wandering down the high street, which was decked out in lights and decorations. Ahead is a fortnight of Christmas dinners, mince pies and Christmas pudding, but as long as I keep walking I won't end up with a belly like Santa's, lovely stuff.