Minch Moor Bothy to Melrose

It was hard to swap my cosy sleeping bag for a bout of shivering in the cold air of the wooden bothy, but with strong winds and snow forecast for later on, I had no choice. I left before dawn and was instantly rewarded for my effort with a clear and frosty morning, the long grass of the clearings coated in delicate white shards that crunched deliciously as I moved slowly up the dark mass of Minch Moor.

As the sun rose it turned the sky red and added depth and vibrancy to the uplands surrounding me. It's been many days since I've been at this kind of altitude, and it felt good to be up among the hills again. In addition, the Southern Upland Way is one of the best maintained paths my feet have had the pleasure of treading. It follows a rough undulating ridge, either cutting through the regimented lines of the forests or riding the crests of the rounded moorland summits. Although this is a long and wild section, with many miles to cover before you reach the old stone bridge at Yair, there is plenty of interest away the way. There are sculptures, such as the huge ovals cut out of the heather that change shape as you slowly move past, and ancient shrines such as the cheese well, where liquid cheddar bubbles to the surface (only kidding, this is where you leave gifts for the spirits before attempting to cross the moor).

For several hours I enjoyed the beautiful walking, until just after the huge cairns known as the Three Brethen, where I headed down through another forest to cross the Tweed. With the high moors conquered, I could be a bit more relaxed about the impending weather disaster and settled down to eat some of yesterday's sandwiches. As might be expected I have gathered a reasonable collection of aches and pains; particular grumbling today came from the soles of my feet and left thigh. After lunch, things had begun to seize up and when I stumbled off again I had an awkward limp and uncomfortable expression on my face. Anyone driving past wouldn't have expected me to do another mile, let alone another country, but my pace gradually increased and I was soon tackling the steep grassy hill ahead.

This provided good views of sprawling Galashiels and its tower blocks and I decided to skirt Gala Hill instead of following the official way through the town. I'm not sure about the legality of the route but I made it to the other side and down into an industrial estate. Following the paved cycle path in the rain was hard going but soon I was on grassy meadows by the river which eventually led me into the charming town of Melrose. Later, as I stared out of the window at the rain pouring down outside, it felt like it had been a good day.