Day 2. Through Craik to Ettrick and Phawhope.

The A7 does lack the preferred delights associated with cycling on a small quite country road, as the timber lorries thunder past, so there`s only one thing to do: head down and pedal. After about 4 Km of uphill pull, the Mosspaul Inn comes into sight, a favorite stopping-off place on the journey north in days gone by, I`m told. But now alas, it is an Inn no more; just a large self catering establishment.It has gone the way of so many other rural hotels. Crossing the Watershed a little further up the hill, and the adrenaline rush of a long steady downhill past Linhope to Teviothead, is an invigorating joy. 

Just beyond, the V.Route takes a left turn-up an unclassified dead-end road past Falnash, and a little tree clad hill called Merry Naze. Forest roads through Craik provide easy cycling, even with that heavy pannier on the back; there is a sense of engagement with the terrain, with the ebb and flow of successive hills along the way. At Rashy Hill, the metaled road is left, to cut through on a rough track of sorts, to Howpassley and Craik. This is one of those well-intentioned early forestry villages, which soon fell out of favour on account of its remoteness. Forestry families wanted to live in towns, with all of the associated facilities.

The V.Route west takes careful navigation through a network of possible forest roads, but only the one by Howdub Knowe leads on successfully to Gair, on the B709. Its been most rewarding to find a route through this stretch of forest, and whilst it is a bit to the north of the Watershed, it shadows well its twists and turns up there on Craik Cross and Post Office Knowe. At Gair its necessary, out of respect to take a fifteen minute trip up to the Watershed itself, above Over Dalgleish, to nod affectionately to Eskdalale, and then cruise all the way back down to Ramseycleuch and Ettrick village. Left turn for a long gently meandering pootle up beside Ettrick Water, and into the embrace of the Ettrick horseshoe of hills that carry the Watershed all around. The names provide a litany of gently rounded tops, from Bloohope Head, Ettrick Pen, Capel Fell, Bodesbeck and all the way northward to Herman Law, within yodeling distance of St Mary`s Loch.

Just before Potburn, the tarmac gives way to forest road once more, and a short slightly bumpy ride to Over Phawhope Bothy; destination for the night. A wisp of smoke rising from the chimney heralds bothy companionship and blether for the night.

The Wondrous Ways of Nature in Geo-Glacial Time

From the summit of Hartshorn Pike, where there`s a ninety degree turn in the Watershed, is baffling. Surely it must run, well north, because that`s where the top of Scotland is? But the route as marked on the map says, `go west young man`, and `don`t take any serious northwards turn until you reach Clyde Law in another 100 Km or so`. Such is the way of the Watershed, and by the way, never doubt your compass bearing either.

So said, I headed west, down an old, long redundant fence-line towards Wauchope Forest, where my slowly decaying markers, led me into what became a forest ride, and then onto a real land rover track. That erred slightly from the true line, but took me past Mag and the Bairns clump of boulders, having crossed the Wheel Causeway. This had been in medieval times, a pilgrim route to Whithorn, but the pious would have a hard time of it now. Next landmark, as the going gets so much easier for man and bike on a well made, and used, forest road, is the oddly named Note o` the Gate.

Here, on what is now the B6357, legend has it, that Mary Queen of Scots was advised to watch where she was putting her feet, lest she stumble. Be that as it may, a right turn, and just as quickly, a left onto a forest road. This twists and meanders round Wigg Knowe and by a very circuitous route, never far from the Watershed, passes the old limestone workings and comes out onto the B6399 almost on target. Cycling forest roads, with a heavily laden bike, is a joy, and it has to be said, a whole lot easier, than that earlier challenging experience. Following the exact Watershed, the R.Route, from here however, would require an ATV that can climb over fences - if such a vehicle exists?

So as a practical alternative for pensioner and bike is a fine freewheeling cruise south towards Hermitage. There, an unclassified road takes the V.Route west again, past the impregnable looking Castle, and on into the Armstrong lands of  Gorrenberry, to Fiddleton on the A7. Those last few miles are through some fine remaining rolling sheep country, that escaped the sitka regime of not so yore. A camp somewhere near Fiddleton does fine, with the only overnight, and irregular disturbance, being the packs of timber lorries drumming past.

A fine day yes, and a promising start to the V.Route, where every turn of Pete`s pedals, seeks to coax donations for Maasai Girls Education, and a fond respect for Joseph Thomson and his humanitarian legacy that grows ever stronger.

First Impressions.

I was under no illusion about the challenges ahead on the first part of the first real day of this Peddle for Maasai Girls Education; it seemed like a good idea at the time of planning. Trying to be true to the southern terminus of the Watershed created a mountain, or at least a very big hill to be climbed, strait away. For barely a mile out of Kielder, and the route took me off and up into the forest, with most of Deadwater Fell, as the immediate target. Deadwater; dead steep, more like!

The first haul was up a reasonable forest road, but soon enough, a short-cut beckoned, up a brutal mountain bike trail  - going up, what is strictly speaking a down, section. More forest road, and then more short cut, until finally, out of the forest and somewhat out of puff, the open moor, where the gravel road led ever skywards to a motley collection of communication masts atop that hill. Right turn, across Deadwater Moor, and a wide sweep by track and almost trackless, through the heather to the summit of Peel Fell; southern terminus of the great Watershed of Scotland.

Thereby however lies a geographic conundrum, for some unknown reason, the England Scotland Border runs across at about 50m to the north of the summit cairn. Why did the ancients, not use the top of the hill as a marker? Who knows, but the your`s truly is happy to regard the top(ish) of Peel Fell as the start of the Watershed, at this end. Ahead lies some 1,200 Km of moor, bog, mountain and forest, before the northern end is reached, 23 days later by this modus, at Duncansby Head.

The next hill-goal is Hartshorn Pike a few Km northwards into Scotland. Just getting there is a slither down through washed-out peat hags, across a stretch of bog, and then hauling the bike up through the largely trackless heather, to the top o` the hill. There, bliss awaits on this sunny day, a lochan, yes it must be that, and not a tarn, because we have left England behind, and a welcome pause for a brew-up using the same Trangia Stove that fueled me so reliably along my first Watershed Epic of 2005. So, sitting by this nameless lochan with mug of tea in hand, the vista is spread around in magnificence, and michty me, the journey ahead is for real - inasmuch as this virtual journey can be.

Getting to the Start of It

The thing to remember about the Watershed of Scotland, is that it is entirely Nature Made. Formed ever so slowly, in geo-glacial time, as the very shape of Scotland somehow emerged from beneath the ice-sheets and our very shores were cooried oot by the fall and rise of sea levels: the land-form discovered a watershed. Not quite an east : west divide, but one, as we have now defined, which is more about where all that rain water ends up - in Ocean or Sea. I say all this, not so much by way of a geography lesson, but to presage a wee inconvenience in actually getting to its` southern terminus at Peel Fell on the England : Scotland Border - for the start of the anticipated journey. Its a quite out of the way sort of place, in which public transport would be of little benefit. So a car driven by someone else and returning to base, is the only practical way.

Having accepted that inevitability, the journey south from home in Linlithgow, once past the Pentland Hills is a delightful one, through the rolling landscapes of the Scottish Borders. The ancient Burghs of Melrose, Selkirk and Hawick mark-out the passing territories, and once the the hills of the Watershed are crossed, the road drops down through the sitka forests into Liddesdale. Kielder village beckons after an unassuming Border crossing near a farmhouse; destination for the night.

Now we must pause to consider that this route that`s going to be followed over the ensuing twenty three days, is sadly not going to be for real. We should perhaps call it a virtual route, or the `V.Route`,  because the Covid-19 restrictions have put-paid to it being any kind of real journey, or experience. 

So as I sit with all my kit, well metaphorically at least, in Kielder, a 1950s Forestry Commission village in the lee of the grandly named Kielder Castle hunting lodge, it is only now that I`m able to indulge in a feeling of real anticipation of what lies ahead. So allow that feeling linger, and let our collective imaginations switch to this virtual experience that is described in these pages, and all the days ahead. For I feel bound to share all that I know of the landscapes that would have been traveled so purposefully. 

Out of the Ruins of The Great Escape.

It all started out as a great plan, to escape the banal hype surrounding European Football championships, offered much excitement, adventure and challenge, in equal measure; a triple whammy. So the Scotland end-to-end route was duly plotted - to cycle as close to the Watershed as possible, for a man of my vintage. Dates for the venture were set, and food stocks gradually built-up in usual tabulated Pete style. All seemed set for departure in mid-June, just in time to, well, `escape`.

But that F word was suddenly replaced with the C word: from football to Covid. Disaster! The best laid schemes, of mice and men, were going very much agley.

Out of the ruins however, a new Plan started to take shape in my mind, that would combine, a sense of adventure at least, an imagined journey, a wee bit effort on my part, and a very worthy fundraising purpose. So the original Plan was not abandoned altogether, the route would remain unchanged, the dates brought forward, and reality would give way to the virtual experience. To all of this, was added, the fundraising banner of `Pete`s Pedal for Maasai Girls Education`. And so, the re-jigged plans started to roll into place, rapidly.

As founding secretary to the Joseph Thomson Maasai Trust, it was easy to pick-up on the main purpose and focus of activity of this charity, so named after my own ancestor Joseph Thomson, African Explorer. The importance of enabling Maasai girls to receive an education will unfold within the narrative of this 23 day, 1000 Km venture. The stature of Joseph Thomson and his inspirational legacy will become much clearer, as we `journey` from one end of Scotland to the other. And the reality of a pedal on two wheels, will give way to the highly effective Covid-restriction compromise of using an exercise bike in my back garden.