Day 64 - Gleann Nam Meann to Killin

17 June
Distance: about 17.5 miles
Number of close encounters with bulls: 1

The rain that started just as I was finishing up cooking tea yesterday continued through the night and into this morning. The only time it let up was just as we were about to take the tent down, when it gave a ten minute respite.

Fortuitous timing you may think, except that as the rain stopped out came the midges. Call me picky, but I'd rather have the rain.

The rain duly started again and my goodness did it come down?

By the time we got to Balquhidder, only about 6 or 8 miles into our day, I was thinking that if it was going to continue as it was then an early B&B would be an attractive option.

Pushing such defeatist thoughts aside we carried on through the village and after a brief sojourn for elevenses in the church porch we set out up Glen Kirkton.

By near the top of the pass I was tired and wet and sinking into misery, added to which I'd discovered a leak in my right boot. Oh, and the blister I developed under my little toe yesterday had reformed nicely in the wet boot.

Then we got over the top of the pass and quite unexpectedly the rain stopped and out came the sun. The world was suddenly a rosier place.

A noise made us look up as we made our way down the glen, and there silhouetted on the ridge above us was a huge herd of deer.

Alas, perfection was short-lived. Down came the rain again, accompanying us our final five miles into Killin.

Having decided that we'll have a rest day here we stopped at the first B&B we passed (which explains why we only walked 17.5 miles not the expected 20). Tomorrow we'll walk to the furthest campsite, on the other side of the town, which will put us in a good position to set out again on Thursday.

Day 63 - Kippen to Gleann Nam Meann

15 June
Distance: about 20.5 miles

It was a day that linked tracks together and in doing so used too much tarmac.

There's not a handy path running out of Kippen to the north (or at least not as far as I could find), so our first 8 miles were on roads, where far too many motorists (whose time is clearly too precious to spend ten seconds avoiding pedestrians) glared at us and some shook their heads. We got the feeling that the general concensus amongst those on one particular road was that pedestrians had no right to walk along it - not even those taking up only six inches of the road edge.

We finally got off the road only to find ourselves on a tarmacked track. Groan.

Tarmac finally gave way to unsurfaced track and that led us into a forest where tracks wiggled around and about, doubling the straight line distance that would have seen us to the other side.

I had thought that once we got out the other side of Brig O'Turk (where the 'Tea Room Open' sign was a complete lie) the track would be kinder to our feet. Alas it wasn't to be. We had another couple of miles of tarmac to contend with.

Things did start to get a bit more interesting up this track, mind. There were the two women who were very pleased to have completed the 13.5 mile Mell Circuit. There were the three shepherds who were making an absolute meal of rounding up a small flock of sheep with seven dogs.

And there were the five D of E chaps who were 3km away from completing their Silver expedition. They had a story to tell as one of their number had been airlifted to hospital yesterday after two of the lads had run 2.5 miles to the nearest farm to raise the alarm. It sounded like it had been a trip that they'll remember for more than the weight of their packs (in typical D of E style there were some big packs going on with lots of things lashed to the outside).

In an effort to reduce tomorrow's mileage, we didn't stop at the intended place today but decided to push on until 17.15 and see how far we got. The answer was that we got about 2 miles into tomorrow's walk, reducing it to a more palatable 20 miles.

We found ourselves a rather nice pitch too, with good views and good water close to hand. Unfortunately we didn't get a dreadfully long time to enjoy the location before the rain started.

It's rain that's forecasted to last for three days.

Day 60 Photo - Thanks to Rodger and Richard

On the Union Canal between Edinburgh and Linlithgow

Day 62 - Kilsyth to Kippen

15 June
Distance: 14.5 miles

After our mammoth day yesterday we arrived at Allenfauld Farm B&B, which turned out to be a B&B well worthy of mention and recommendation.

In this lovely farm house, complete with stunning furniture and in-keeping decor we had a very large and comfortable room. All of that makes for a nice B&B, but this one was made even better by our attentive host Libby, who went beyond the call by driving us to and from the pub for tea last night.

It's apparently a night-stop popular with LEJOGers too, as we're the fourth through in recent weeks - and the other three who are currently on their way are not amongst the five who we have met - so there really are a lot of people walking this walk right now.

Heading out of the door rather later than usual this morning, we had a change from the last couple of days. We're away from the canals now and so as we left the farmhhouse we headed behind it, directly onto the hills.

The path marked on the map was not evident on the ground so we were immediately in our element yomping through long grass, reeds and bogs (I let Mick go ahead of me so that each time he fell into a hole I knew not to follow in his very footsteps!).

An hour or so in we hit a forest and found ourselves to be a wee touch off course. However, as the woodland ahead of us had been felled, we decided to just yomp on through down to the first track running through it, a move which we completed successfully.

Then came the really interesting bit of the day. A veritable adventure in fact.

I can only assume that when I plotted this and failed to make any advisory comment on the itinerary or on the map it was late at night and I had imbibed a quantity of wine, as the route I had plotted ran directly through the forest - not on any sort of marked path. I'm well aware that plantations of this nature are usually a tangle of impassable branches, yet I had assumed that in order to get from one track running east-west to the one running parallel, half a kilometre lower down, we would be able to take a straight line.

Having not noticed this random bit of route planning until too late, we were faced with two options: stick to the plan, as mad as it was; or walk a 6km detour so as to keep on the forest tracks.

Obviously, we stuck to the plan, which was fine at first because there was a bit of a clearing where a burn ran. Then the clearing ended and we variously found ourselves walking down the burn, scrambling up and down its edges, scrambling around fallen trees and bashing through the dense dead lower branches of the firs.

It did strike me half way through this escapade that if one of us was to come a cropper and require rescue then it would be a very tricky operation and would deserve a huge amount of censure from the rescuers.

As it went we came out on the intended track (in the intended place too) and after taking our tops off to shake out the three pounds of bits of dead tree we continued on proper tracks.

Having rounded the loch (the name of which I can't recall and I don't have the map on me) we sat down for five minutes. It wasn't the prettiest location to sit - at the side of a road and next to a car park, but I was glad that we did.

Had we not stopped we would have followed the route I'd marked, however given the time to look around us and at the map Mick noticed that we could take a more direct route up a track opposite us. I took a bit of convincing that it would work out okay (this track was not marked on the map), but once convinced was more than happy to omit the few kilometres of road walking and the descent-to-reascend that would have been involved in the intended route.

The direct route worked just fine (well, ignoring the small issue of a ravine to cross) taking us to the track that would lead us through Ballochleam Spout and down to Kippen.

The view from the Spout was fantastic. Lump upon lump upon lump of hills spreadout ahead of us (and with heavy rain showers passing both right and left of us).

Down to Kippen we dropped, miraculously missing all but a few spots of the passing rain.

Donations update: I am taken aback. There we were walking up the road to the B&B last night when a voice behind us checked "You're walking for Macmillan?" We confirmed that was the case and he handed to us £20 before heading down his driveway without further conversation. That £20 was further boosted this morning with another £20 donation from our B&B. Two donations that caused us to both end a day and start a day with a spring in our step.

Post Script: Another food post script tonight. We thought that our meal at The George in Melrose was good, but that's now in the shadows of the Cross Keys in Kippen. I had an asparagus and broad bean risotto starter, an asparagus and broad bean main course (tiny quantity mix up on the first attempt which was swiftly resolved without fuss) and a lemon tart pudding. Mick had pork loin mains with rhubarb creme brulee pudding. If I lived anywhere near here we'd made a regular visit to this place. If you find yourself in Kippen (and it's a fine place to come if you're walking LEJOG) then I'd strongly recommend a meal at the Cross Keys.

Day 61 - Linlithgow to Kilsyth

14 June
Distance: about a million miles
Actual distance: 22 miles

Well, I'm glad those two days are over. I've had enough of flat ground, big miles and hard surfaces!

Today was not without merit. In fact it had a couple or three notable points.

My starting point for planning a route along the length of the country was that I wanted to go via the Falkirk Wheel. As it turned out, when planning the route in detail, via the Falkirk Wheel was the obvious route in any case, and today was the day for this highlight.

In fact, it was the highlight that kept me going along the almost lifeless (there were big shoals of fish basking in the clear water in places) canal all morning - that and the views of the hills over to our right.

Before the wheel was another feature that I'd not expected: a 620 metre long tunnel, complete with significant water seepage through the roof at times, just to give those walking through the darkness an occasional shower.

A while was spent at the wheel, sitting in the sunshine and watching it working. I like things mechanical and the Falkirk wheel is an impressive structure. I would quote some facts and figures about it, except that the Visitor Centre seemed strangely devoid of any information. Either it was well hidden or you have to take the audio tour - and given the length of our day I didn't want to spend the time on an audio tour. Nevertheless, I went away happy to have seen three rotations of the wheel.

Dragging ourselves away after about an hour, we were onto the Forth and Clyde canal, which at least has the feature of a few locks (the Union Canal wiggles around a bit to keep to the same contour rather than having locks).

Here hoards of people were out enjoying the sunshine, walking or cycling along the towpath (at least until the rain hit, then everyone mysteriously disappeared), but again there was scant life on the water. A few ducks, a canoe and a (smelly) motor-craft.

By a mile from our destination we were suffering from last half mile syndrome, added to which Mick found that he had incurred his first blister of the trip. 880 miles and he goes and gets a blister!

Our B&B for tonight is up the hill on the north side of Kilsyth. That was a shock to the legs after the flatness of the canals. In the world of Anquet mapping (and probably other mapping software too) today's ascent was 1500 feet. Phil over at Doodlecat wrote a post a few months ago about the over-estimation of ascent by mapping software (worth reading, but I can't post a link just now) and if memory serves he reckoned the software to be out by around 20%. Well, some days I reckon that Anquet is about right, others it's clearly way off the mark. Today it was way off.

By my calculation today (a bit difficult to be accurate; I think the ink was all but out when I printed today's map) we crossed no more than 20 contour lines, at least five of them downhill. An alleged 1500 feet of ascent versus a reality of about 500. That's quite an overstatement isn't it?

Post Script: interesting food experience tonight. I'm not sure that including swede and baby new potatoes in the filling of fajitas is entirely authentic...

Day 60 - Beyond Cauldstane Slap to Linlithgow

13 June
Distance: 21 miles
Number of times I've been mistaken for a boy in the last 36 hours: twice

At 8pm last night, as if timed by their midgey alarm clocks, the midges came out. Into the tent we dived and closed the net door, marvelling at the quantities swarming outside.

At 9pm I had to pop out to the en-suite and despite a very carefully choreographed set of moves designed to avoid midge ingress, we ended up with hundreds of the blighters inside. For twenty minutes we were playing 'hunt and kill the midges'.

Fortunately by this morning the cool temperature and hint of a breeze was enough to have sent to ground the eighty million that we didn't kill, so we didn't have a repeat of the Byrness face-slapping fiasco.

Leaving our pitch a bit of bog-trotting took us back to the path for the walk down from Cauldstane Slap down to Little Vantage, where Mick changed into his running shoes in recognition of the fact that the rest of the day was on hard surfaces: road, tracks and tow-path.

Almondell Country Park was a colourful interlude in the day, being in bloom as it is - particularly the rhodedendrons. Walking through (actually Mick was almost running in his comfy shoes) we started fantasising that the Visitor Centre marked on the map would have a tea room. Then the fantasy grew - a cup of tea and a huge slab of cake. Then it grew further: a cup of tea and a fried egg bap. It culminated in me sitting with a pint of tea, an egg bap and a huge slab of cake.

The fantasy was shattered when we found that all that was available was a small styrofoam cup of tea (thimble-esque) and packets of 2 biscuits.

Not quite refreshed, we made our way to the Union Canal, which turned out to be another canal that is lacking in life. I counted two swans, two coot, one mallard, one British Waterways dredger and a chap on an inflatable sit-on canoe. That's not a lot of life in ten miles or so of canal.

Until the meeting of the canoeist, the walk along the canal had been so uninspiring as to cause me to get out the audio book and prove that I can listen to a whole chapter without falling asleep!

Then we met Roger and Richard. Richard was the chap on the inflatable canoe, Roger was on the bank supervising this first test of the craft (and an interesting craft it looked too). We had stopped nearby for a quick break and soon found ourselves chatting. It was another of those nice meetings that momentarily distracts you from the fact that your feet hurt and you've still not reached your destination.

Twenty-one miles is a long way to walk mainly on hard surfaces and by the end the breaks were coming often.

I know that I can walk far further than 21 miles in a day; I know that because I've done it dozens of times, albeit without a pack. However, on this walk it seems that my psychological cut off point is 20 miles. That doesn't make tomorrow's 22 miler a happy prospect - but at least we have a real bed at the end of it to which we can look forward.

However, our packs will be heavy, for today we've picked up two more parcels (which are the only reason we're at this campsite that's a mile out of our way and on the hard-shoulder of the M9; had I looked at the map earlier in the week and noted the location I would have had the parcels sent elsewhere). As well as the requested items those parcels contained unexpected treats - so thanks go to Vic for the sweets and to Kay for the flapjacks (and not just any flapjack, I immediately recognised this as the extremely good Mouldy Old Hall flapjack) - yummy! Perhaps with all of these treats I'll regain a few of those curves that I've lost and people will stop mistaking me for a boy!

Day 59 - Peebles to beyond Cauldstane Slap

12 June
Distance: 18.25 miles

I was tired today. More tired than I've been at any point since Day 2. However, I put that down to the ignorami (I would be a little less polite except that my grandmother reads this (hello Much!)) who decided, amongst other unnecessary disturbances to do the hokey cokey at the top of their lungs outside of our tent in a fit of extreme drunkenness at 12.30 this morning.

The lack of sleep didn't stop me springing out of bed at the usual time, and I was cheered to find that after some very heavy and very prolonged rain during the night, the day was again a fine one, with lots of blue sky.

We were soon out of Peebles, making our way first to and then along the old drove road that leads to West Linton. A nice route it was too, with mainly nice underfoot conditions - albeit a bit hard in places (the dreaded tarmac, in particular).

We didn't meet anyone out walking the whole way to West Linton, although we did stop for a good chat with a chap maintaining one of the paths for the estate upon which it lies.

I can't comment on West Linton itself, which is in the midst of its festival at the moment, as we skirted around it, but I can recommend Rosehip tearoom on the outskirts. It's housed in the old drove road toll house and serves some excellent lunches. Being not a planned stop that meant that we find ourselves unnecessarily still carrying today's intended lunch - so much for lightweight!

'Twas hard underfoot again leaving West Linton and the tiredness was seeping through all of my bones.

Unexpectedly, at a time when I thought my weariness was going to make the rest of the day a trudge, I was cheered by the chance meeting of two very nice men.

Kenny and Jim were their names and they'd been out to the Caulderstane Slap on a 5 hour walk during which time we were the only people they'd met.

A bit of a chat was had and upon learning the nature of our trip we were invited to have a meal with them in a local pub. Alas, given that our intended destination for the day was up in the hills, we had to decline, to which Jim put his hand in his pocket and handed over a generous sum of money which he was quite adamant was to be spent on beer and food, not to be given to Macmillan. We will abide by that instruction and I look forward to finding a pub tomorrow, whereupon we will toast these gents.

Macmillan didn't lose out either, as we also came away with a £20 donation.

We continued our last few miles with a renewed bounce, reflecting on such random acts of kindness by strangers. It makes what is already an excellent walk even more special.

Pushing on having scoffed some very nice cake for sustenance, we passed through more wonderful open country, with just birds and sheep for company. At Cauldstane Slap it was time to leave the path to start looking for a pitch.

It's not a bad one that we found, not too near but not too far from our route, and with running water close to hand. We've the sight of planes taking off from Edinburgh not to distant, but beyond that, to the north-west is our first glimpse of highlands. Those are definite high pointy things on the horizon - and in just a few more days we'll be in amongst them.

Day 58 - Beyond Broomy Law to Peebles

11 June
Distance: about 15 miles
Number of donkeys within ten feet of the tent: 2

Today was a Very Good Day.

After something of a breezy night we left our practical-over-idyllic pitch under fine skies.

An hour later at just 8.30am, I noticed a chap walking towards us. "Early for someone to be up here" I thought.

His greeting of "I was worried you'd taken a short cut" made us realise that this was more than a chance meeting and led to Mick's rejoinder of "You must be Ian".

This was the very same Ian who I mentioned just last night, who gave us some route advice for this section of the walk.

He turned around and walked with us back to Traquair (pointing things out to us as we went; very knowledgable on this area is Ian), where he'd left his camper van. Once there he produced a big pot of tea and from his refrigerator pulled out mountains of fruit salad and salads. After 2 months of dehydrated meals and cracker/fish/cheese lunches I was in food heaven.

Let it be known that this man, who had until now been a complete stranger, is a star-of-the-First-Order. Read a few other on-line journals of people who have walked from Land's End to John O'Groats and you'll find that he crops up more than once. So, a big thank you Ian.

Finally dragging ourselves away from the comfort and the food, we set out along our hastily re-jigged route. The forestry through which we passed was far from the most dreary and we were soon yomping up a pathless hill the other side to get to the top of Kailzie Hill, from where we could pick up an old drove road down to Peebles.

It was a fine bit of re-routing. The drove road runs along a ridge giving expansive views.

It also gave a good vantage point from which to see the rain approaching. I think the technical description would be 'showers, some prolonged and heavy' - the first heavy one certainly had us diving into our packs for waterproofs.

The good events of the day did not end on arriving in Peebles. We got to the campsite to find it to be not only one of the best ones yet, but also one of the cheapest. They also had for us the emergency parcel, sent yesterday (thank you Kim & Hayley), containing Mick's running shoes (in the hope that they will ease his foot problem, at least when we're on hard surfaces). I don't want to Keegan things, but just requesting them may have helped - today the shoe-faffs were minimal and I didn't hear any ooching and ouching.

Then just to round the day off, for the first time this trip we splashed out on laundry (saving me time standing at a sink and the usual drying problems). It involved me having to wear waterproofs in lieu of trousers, but we now have all of our clothes washed and dried - and they even came out a bit cleaner than they went in. I think that much dirt may require more than one cycle to cure!

Added to all of that, thanks to a chap who was walking the SUW (wearing a kilt and with a large pack) and to the very generous donation made by Ian, we ended the day with the Macmillan fundraising £25 richer.

Day 57 - Newton St. Boswells to Beyond Broomy Law

10 June
Distance: about 16 miles

Our grocery shopping is usually done in village stores, which vary from tiny independent ones to reasonably large Co-ops.

Today we didn't use the store in Newton St. Boswell, where we arrived back by bus just before 8am, nor did we use the Co-op in Melrose when we passed through for the second time at 9am. Instead we decided to delay the buying of supplies until Galashiels, even though that meant taking a bit of a detour.

What we didn't realise when making that decision was that we would find ourselves in a Tesco Extra the size and nature of a French Carrefour.

Whilst we've not yet failed to find enough suitable food substances in the little local stores to do for our meals, the bonus of a big Tesco was that it offered choice and at low prices.

There is, however, a big minus to choice and that is you have to walk a mile around the store searching for the items you're after.

Whilst I did the searching Mick supped tea and scoffed a bacon roll (well there was no sense both of us walking an extra mile wearing backpacks) in the cafe, which is where he attracted the first donation of the day - £5 from a woman who must have seen our backpacks as we entered.

Incredibly we managed to spend an hour and a half in Tesco (multiple cups of tea were involved) and it was as we were fitting the shopping into our bags that a chap stopped to chat (turned out that he was out in the Cheviots on Sunday too). Before we parted he added another couple of pounds to the Macmillan fund.

Then it was back out onto the Southern Upland Way (SUW), which we'd joined at Melrose having left St. C's Way.

The day had been reasonably unremarkable until we ascended the Three Brethren (anyone know whether there's a story behind the three cairns on the top?), where we left behind the ugly forestry and the views opened out.

We pitched the tent at 4pm, enjoying the fact that now we're in Scotland we can legally camp and thus don't have to wait so late to pitch. Alas, we didn't achieve an idyllic pitch, going instead for practicality - there's rather a stiff wind blowing so shelter was our first priority.

As I usually do, once pitched I started looking at tomorrow's route (tomorrow we get back to the schedule after the re-jigging of distances over the last couple of days). I also dug out the notes that a chap called Ian had sent to us when he very kindly looked at our proposed route through this area. I should, perhaps, have read those notes more thoroughly before, as I now appreciate that my intended route is at best not advisable and at worst not possible. Being thankful that we're already about 5.5 miles into tomorrow's route (or it could have been a jolly long day) I've reconsidered and we have a new plan. Looks like a good one too.

(Personal note: Hello and congratulations to Willie and Fiona. All being well we'll be seeing you a month from now!)

Days 54-55 Photos - Thanks to Mike Roberts

Mike, Gayle and Mick


The end of the Pennine Way


Home sweet home

Day 56 - Morebattle to Newton St. Boswells

9 June
Distance: about 20 miles (according to my piece of string)

It didn't go according to plan. The plan saw us walking 12.5 miles to Lilliardsedge. Even that bit of the day couldn't be achieved per the plan - firstly because we didn't trust to take another of my 'direct routes' and so decided to just follow the St Cuthbert's Way, and secondly because the St Cuthbert's Way in reality does not match its representation on my map.

So, getting to Lilliardsedge involved 1.5 miles more distance than I'd plotted - and about 3 miles more road walking than planned (the St C's Way does seem to like tarmac).

That was fine and would have still given us a short day.

However, the campsite I'd planned to use involved an out and back detour of over half a mile each way. In the current series of days the direction of which seems counter-intuitive (finally we get a south westerly wind in this walk but it's on a day when we're walking southwest and west!) I didn't fancy such a detour so instead we decided to push on to St Boswells and treat ourselves with another B&B.

Alas, despite the best efforts of the ladies in the Post Office there, who were exceptionally helpful, there was only one bed to be had anywhere nearby and for that they wanted £100, more than a smidge above budget.

Reluctantly we concluded that we would have to press on to Newton, where we received the dreaded news that there was not a bed to be had there either.

In Melrose we knew that there was a campsite but Melrose was another 2.5 miles distant and Mick's feet did protest too much.

Having just missed the bus a taxi was called and ten minutes later we were dropped off outside the Caravan Club Site in Melrose. We presented ourselves at the (closed) reception where the day took a verging-on-farcical turn when we saw the 'Site Full' sign.

Of course, I rang the bell anyway and prepared to bat my eyelids. It wasn't required, it turned out that it was only full for caravans. For little backpacking tents there was plenty of room. That was a good thing. It was seven o'clock, which felt like time to eat, not time to re-start a bed search.

Despite the deviation from the plan, it was a good day. The weather was again fine, albeit rather on the warm side and there were castles and hill-top monuments to be seen in amongst the agricultural land.

The map suggests that tomorrow we will find lumpy land again, but before that we will be making a bus journey back to Newton, to make sure that not a step of this walk is omitted. As we'll be passing the campsite again an hour or so after we leave it, we could do the first bit of the walk without our packs - except that having carried them thus far it would feel like cheating to walk even a step without them.

Post Script: Oh wow! We may have felt exceptionally underdressed (not to mention a tad grubby) in the restaurant of the hotel in which we chose to eat, but they served us anyway and what food. I'm in food heaven. And the wine was good too. A perfect end to the day.

Day 55 - Refuge Hut to Morebattle

8 June
Distance: about 13 miles
Number of stoats seen: 1

What a fantastic place it was to wake up this morning, outside of the refuge hut. At 6am the skies were clear and the haze that last night had obscured the most distant hills had gone.

My promise that, after yesterdays arduous day, there was only one significant hill today was an absolute lie. What I actually meant was that there was only one significant hill on the bit of the map that I'd looked at. I'd not looked at a lot of the map.

We were finally on the downhill stretch to Kirk Yetholm when we stopped for second breakfast. Having scant food left, we were down to a packet of raisins each when Mike made sure that he got his name into the Blog: he pulled out of his pack a box of Jaffa cakes. What an absolute star.

Suitably sustained with chocolate, sponge and orange we were soon down in Kirk Yetholm, taking the 'end of PW' photos outside of the Border Hotel.

A chap then leapt out of a car to shake us by the hand before we headed over to Kirk Yetholm to stock up a little and to while a way the best part of an hour on the green eating and drinking and eating some more.

We were then on the St Cuthbert's Way, except that to cut off a corner and to avoid some road walking I had plotted a more direct route down to Melrose which followed a path marked on the map.

Today the short cut did make for a long delay. That path/track was not evident on the ground and the woodland bore no resemblance to that shown on the map. It was a bit of a struggle, I got comprehensively stung, and Mick reports that I may have lost my sense of humour for a wee while.

The final obstacle of the day was a nettle bed through which our alleged path led. It may have looked strange to an onlooker, in the fine (now overcast) weather, to see three people donning waterproof trousers, but waterproof is also nettleproof.

Tonight we have a bed to sleep in at the Temple Hall Inn. I don't count the YHA last weekend as being a bed as it was sagging bunks that were even less comfortable than Thermarests, which means that this is the first bed we will have slept in for over two weeks.

Mike is also staying in Morebattle tonight. Tomorrow he has the task of working out how to get back to Byrness (he apparently doesn't have sufficient time off work to turn around and do the Cheviots again). As for us, we'll continue walking in a direction that is less than intuitive for a south-to-north walk. Today, after thirteen miles of walking, we have finished just three miles north of where we started, despite being at one point five miles north.

Day 54 - Bryness to Hen Hole Refuge Hut

7 June
Distance: 19 miles (plus water collecting detour)
Number of snakes encountered: 1
Number of people seen in vicinity of Windy Gyle: about 100

Two things had me somewhat less than amused before we left the campsite. The free range roosters that decided to stand outside of our tent to do their cock-a-doodle-doing at 5 o'clock was the first thing to irk me.

Then, when it was really time to get up (rather than the time the roosters wanted us to get up) I looked outside of the vent that we had open in the flysheet and counted, in that view hole of one square foot, no less than two million three hundred thousand and thirty four midges. Appearances were not important. Out came the head net.

The day improved massively once we (we including today Mike who joined us last night) left the campsite and set out up the killer hill that got us up onto the ridge.

What a spectacular day it was for a walk along the ridge into the Cheviots. It was by no means wall-to-wall sunshine, but there was plenty of sun between the clouds and the warmth of the day was tempered by the nice breeze.

And the views. Well, they went on for miles without the hint of even a farmhouse, never mind a road. This is one big empty place - just as I like.

It was one of those days that made me appreciate once again how lucky I am to be able to take this little walk.

For most of the day it was pretty quiet too. There were the two chaps who we passed on Ogre Hill who were just cooking a full fry up, in a full size frying pan, in the middle of the path (bikers they said, I assume that they meant motor; we all sniffed the aroma before continuing). Then there was Limping Man who we've been seeing off and on for a few days, but didn't have the opportunity to talk to until today.

Then we were all on our lonesome until we were sitting having our late lunch and down the hill towards us came twelve people. A group outing, we thought. But then we continued up the hill and in the next couple of miles met somewhere approaching 100 people. Eventually we had to conclude that there was some event going on, and sure enough on asking a chap he confirmed that it was a challenge walk.

Fortunately not long later their route diverged from ours (really, we'd said enough hellos by then!).

The day was long with plenty of ascent and descent putting it firmly into the category of 'quite hard', but for me it was one of the most pleasing days of the walk.

We're now camped outside of the Mountain Refuge Hut with magnificent views. The skies have cleared to give us the perfect end to the day.

If we had a bottle of fizzy with us we would raise a toast to having successfully negotiated England and Wales. Just 500 miles of Scotland to go.

Day 53 - Bellingham to Byrness

6 June
Distance: 14 miles

Not too long after setting out this morning, having cleared Bellingham and being once again amongst greenness, we came upon an unexpected sign.

Right, it told us was the Pennine Way, straight on was an alternative route of the Pennine Way. Decisions, decisions.

The translation of the sign was, of course: right for an obvious path with waymarks; straight on for no discernable path, but many bogs and heather fields to negotiate.

Quite predictably we didn't make our lives easy and went down the bogs-heather-no-discernable-path route. Well, it does make the days more interesting...

Everything had been very quiet indeed all morning, with no signs of other people, when around noon towards us came a chap with the most enormous rucksack.

I've been stunned at the size of backpacks that we've been seeing. Mainly people B&Bing with a pack bigger than mine (whatever are they carrying?). Yesterday we met a chap who had quite a big pack, which he reckoned weighed in at about 50lbs, but compared to this chap today it may have been a daysack.

Massive pack or not, the chap seemed happy enough apart from his sunburn (I obliged with some suncream for him) and we had a bit of a chat before we moved on and into the forest.

Looking at the map I'd thought that the last five miles of the day was going to be another of those 'just put one foot in front of t'other' trudges, as the map showed that we were walking through forestry.

In reality great swathes of the forest have been harvested so there was only about a mile and a half that we were in amongst the trees. For the rest of the time we had views, and fine ones they were too.

Alas, not all was rosy: the forest track was not nice. It was one of those stone tracks that alternates between slipping under your feet and trying to twist your ankle away from you. Mick found it as tedious as I found the disused rly line a few days ago.

Nevertherless, we made it to our destination without trouble (having nearly met three other people walking the PW, but we all came upon each other at the same time and it turned out that the other three knew each other; we didn't like to butt in) and I had parcels to look forward to.

Today is the day when the Icebreaker t-shirt that has been chasing me around the country was due to make its third attempt at reaching me. We checked in at reception and I asked if two parcels had been received.

The owner looked at me so completely blankly that my heart sank. I was sure that I was not destined to get my new top, and secondary to that we would have no food for the next few days.

Then something must have dawned and she said 'the dehydrated food?' and bustled off.

So I'm sitting here typing this, holed up inside of the tent by way of midge avoidance, wearing a non-smelly t-shirt. It's a nice change - even if Mick & I are now somewhat matchety!

We also have something to look forward to today. Mike (the chap who undertook his first backpacking trip in 30 years with us in terrible weather last December) is on his way up to Cottonshopeburnfoot (which is where we actually are) and will be walking with us for the next two days.

Day 52 - Just before Once Brewed to Bellingham

5 June
Distance: 17.25 miles
Number of close encounters with bulls: 1
Number of licks of the face by overly friendly dogs: 2
Number of midge bites: 9 (and not even in Scotland yet)

After our exceptionally lazy rest day yesterday the route along Hadrian's Wall came as something of a shock to the system this morning. That is one undulating route, and by the necessary anti-erosion work which has built stone steps into the steepest slopes it was a test of the knees as well as stamina.

Our time along the wall was brief, but gave us a taster. A few moments after second breakfast we left it and all the people walking along it (a surprising number for the early hour of day) to make our way north, often through forestry and often through bog (often both combined).

We'd just entered the forestry for the second time when Mick nipped off to powder his shiny nose and I looked around for a tree stump on which to sit for a few moments.

Having found a suitable stump I was distracted by a glimpse of white I could see behind a boulder, in the hollow under the stump. I stood at all angles to try to work out what it was, until finally I decided to see if I could move the rock to find out.

It turned out to be a very well concealed geocache - the second that we've stumbled across so far. Being apparently the first to find it this year (although probably not in the right spirit as I was't looking for it and wasn't using a GPS) I left a note before we moved on.

The incident with the bull (it wasn't really an incident, we just had to pass within a few feet of it, all the time nervously looking over our shoulders and noting escape routes) happened on the same farm as the dogs which turned out to be far from killers. It's always nice (albeit rare) when passing through a farm to see that the dogs running towards you have wagging tails and grins on their faces.

The walk down to Bellingham was pleasant enough but unremarkable. What was remarkable was the discovery that none of the pubs here opens until 7pm. That was a bit of a problem given how hungry I was at 6pm (in spite of the two scones and can of fruit I'd bought and eaten on arrival a couple of hours before).

I'm now sitting typing this (7.30pm) with a pint of beer and waiting for a plate of food which promises to be huge.

Week 7 - Routine and MP3

Distance so far: 705 miles

Our tent days have a definite routine to them. It's been pretty much unchanged since day 1 and goes something like this:

The alarm goes off at 6am. Mick groans a bit and asks if we can have an extra half an hour. I leap out of bed, pack away my things and set about making cups of tea and boiling water for porridge.

The porridge cooks itself in the pot cosy whilst we're packing the tent away and then at 7.30 we're away.

It doesn't seem to make much difference how much or how little we need to do before we set off in the morning, it's still invariably within 10 minutes of 7.30 when we get away.

After 2 hours of walking (give or take, depending on views and suitable stopping points) we take five or ten minutes for second breakfast.

After another hour and a half to two hours (give or take) we stop for ten minutes or so for elevenses.

After another couple of hours, if we're not within spitting distance of our destination, we stop for lunch.

Once we're pitched (something we have down to a fine art (did I mention that we switched back from Wendy to the TN Voyager at Hebden Bridge?)) there's the blog to type, notes to write, maps to faff with and the next few days provisions to think about.

The evening meal making process generally starts about 6pm and depending on whether we're using gas or the Bushbuddy can take a while. In line with stereotype, Mick's the hunter-gatherer (or the gatherer at any rate) who goes in search of Bushbuddy fuel; I cook. Mick washes up.

Before we know it it's bed time, which can be anytime after 8.30pm. In we get to our sleeping bags and out come the talking books.

I was worried when we set out that a 1GB MP3 player each wasn't going to be enough and that we would have run out of listening matter in the first couple of weeks.

It didn't take me long to realise that, for me, running out of audio book just wasn't going to be a problem.

Listening to books in other situations works just fine for me. What I've now found is that when snuggled in my sleeping bag, nine nights out of ten I'll be asleep within ten minutes.

Every night I get into my sleeping bag, put an earphone into an ear and set about trying to work out where I'd listened to the night before. Shortly afterwards I fall asleep and half an hour, maybe an hour later I wake for long enough to switch the player off.

One week, quite impressively, I managed to fall asleep on three consecutive nights whilst still in the process of trying to get back to the point where I'd fallen asleep previously. It took me eight days to listen to chapter 14 of Northern Lights (and I'd already been on Chapter 8 when we set off!). They're really not long chapters.

Mick is having more success in listening, but that does mean that he will run out of material way before we run out of country (and we've already swapped books).

For this rest day in Once Brewed we have real books. I bought myself one in a charity shop in Haltwhistle, then we got to the campsite to find that they have their own mini library. It's something that was common in the first few weeks of our walk, but that we haven't encountered for the last month. Every campsite should have one.

As for walking and looking to the week ahead, it's only a few days (touch wood, hoping not to fall down any rabbit holes) now until we reach the Scottish border. Someone said to Mick yesterday "So you've only got a couple of hundred miles to go". I'm not sure that he quite believed the news that Scotland is a wee bit bigger than that.

Day 50 - Alston to just before Once Brewed

3 June
Distance: about 14.5 miles
Number of JOGLErs met: 1

We've come to meet and chat to a number of walkers over the course of the Pennine Way so far, a few of whom we've seen repeatedly. Sometimes news of a particular person precedes them and yesterday we had the reverse experience of meeting someone who did indeed utter "oh, so you're Gayle and Mick". The fact that he went on to say "you're the ones who imported a tent from America" made us ponder over how that cropped up in conversation.

Last night, amongst the walkers, news circulated that there was an alternative route to get to Haltwhistle, that being via the South Tyne Way, which follows the route of a disused railway line.

Some people immediately saw the sense and said that they would go that way, even if only for a while before hopping back onto the PW. Others (the purists) exclaimed that one could not possibly claim to have walked the PW unless you'd stuck to it rigidly for its entire length.

Fortunately our objective is to walk LEJOG, not to be purists about the PW. That combined with a few other factors: the guidebook saying that today was a very dull day designed purely to link the highlights of the Pennines with Hadrian's Wall; the weather forecast being for hood-up-head-down-trudge weather; and the desire to give Mick's feet an easier ride. So we set out this morning (in the rain) along the South Tyne Way.

My goodness it was tedious. I couldn't believe when we got to just before Haltwhistle that a sign said it was only 11.5 miles back to Alston - it felt more like 20.

There were a couple of highlights. For one thing we met another end-to-ender whilst having elevenses. Maurice set off from John O'Groats 36 days ago and is the first person we've met coming the other way - however he's the fifth end-to-ender that we've encountered (and strangely not one of those has met another).

The other highlight was on the route itself and was Lambley Viaduct. What was a shame was that a land owner just before the viaduct had refused to grant access for the path to run through his land and as a result you have to leave the old track-bed just before the viaduct, descend all the way down to the valley, go under it and then climb right back up the other side in order to cross it.

'Twas a good vantage point from the top, mind, which soon made us forget the hideous too-big-steps arrangement to get us down and back up there.

Haltwhistle, when we finally got there, provided us with a cup of tea stop, where we bumped again into Doug (End-to-ender no. 4), who has been on the same route as us for over a week now and with whom we spent quite a few evenings. Shortly afterwards, as all three of us made our way towards Once Brewed, we said farewell to each other as Doug will get ahead of us tomorrow and will reach JOG 2 weeks before us.

Our campsite tonight couldn't be a bigger contrast to last night's. Whereas last night not a single toilet had a door that would shut, and the only sink with a working hot tap had no drain pipe, tonight there is just about every facility we could want (drying room and free spin drier included). Both sites cost the same. Tonight we don't feel ripped off.

As we are now effectively a day ahead of schedule by virtue of having cut off a corner, tomorrow we are having a rest day. Mick will rest his battered feet and we will both enjoy being 10kg lighter for the day.

Day 49 - Dufton to Alston

2 June
Distance: 17.5 miles
Number of red squirrels seen: 1

This is one if those posts typed whilst supping ale and carrying on a conversation, so don't expect it to be coherent.

The day had seemed so fair as we set out this morning and we made jolly good time up Knock Old Man, appreciating our new-found fitness as we made our way up the hill side.

Alas, by the time we got up there we were in the cloud and as we continued into the increasing gloom I realised that I had erred in my choice of eyewear.

With the weather forecast being fair I had worn my glasses. The problems were two-fold. Firstly the dratted reactions lenses believed that it was very bright sunshine even though the light was low.

Seconldy, the cloud was being blown onto my glasses, continuously obscuring my view.

Not that there was a view to be had.

The guide book says that the radar station on the top of Great Dun Fell is a good navigational aid in all but a white out. Well it was far from a white out today (by my definition anyway), but even from the perimeter fence of the radar station we couldn't see the 'golf ball'. We stood and stared until eventually the cloud drifted away for a few seconds and we got a slight glimpse.

Making our way on we decided that there was little point in going to the top of Cross Fell when we could instead take a path around ("Short cuts make for long delays, Mr Frodo"; it proved not to be the case today).

For a while there was a faint path too, but then it hit bog and petered out. In the gloom and without visibility it turned into a good and interesting navigation exercise.

Where the path started to contour around the hillside we decided that a direct route back to the PW would be more expedient. More compass work with scant sight and bog trotting a-go-go and we came out in exactly the right place. I was most proud of myself.

Another detour was taken before Garrigil which gave more yet interesting navigation, even though by then we had dropped below the cloud.

We arrived in Alston to find that a lot of travellers are in town on their way to the Appleby Horse Fair (lots of horse drawn caravans and lots of horses) and then to find that our campsite is far less than desirable. That it is accessed via a scrap-yard was the first off-putting feature; then there are the facilities. They have to be seen to be believed. I'm not sure whether I was more bemused by the access arrangements or the nature of the shower. It goes without saying that for this lack-of-luxury we're paying one of the higher prices. Any thoughts of a day off here were soon scrapped.

I hear that the weather conditions for tomorrow are forecast to be dreadful, so we'll be looking at the map later and considering a different route to a different destination.

Day 48 - Langdon Beck to Dufton

1 June
Distance: 12.5 miles
Number of killer dogs thwarted by their cages: 2

It was a day that made no sense in the context of a walk from the south of the country to the north, for we have ended the day some 3 miles further south than we started.

There are two reasons why we made the detour south rather than heading straight up towards Alston.

One thing is my wish to walk the Pennine Way, and whilst we've not been entirely true to it to cut off a day and a half would have been a step to far (or not far enough, I suppose).

The other reason is the features on this leg of the route - which also explains why the Way takes this detour.

First up this morning, after a delightful walk along the river and then a beck, was Cauldron Snout, which ranks up there as one of, if not the, most impressive waterfalls I've seen. It's not a high fall, but it's quite long and it contains an immense quantity of water. The scrambly bit up the side just added to the experience.

The only 'ordinary' part of the day (except nothing is really that ordinary up here; the space and scenery are noteworthy in and of themselves) was the walk along the track, past the army range, between Cauldron Snout and High Cup Nick.

High Cup Nick is the feature to which I've been most looking forward on the England/Wales leg of the trip, so I was rather disappointed last night to learn that today's forecast was for lots of rain.

We managed to get ahead of the rain. It didn't start until we were past Cauldron Snout. However, by the time we got to High Cup Nick we were being hit full force by the wind (which for the first time on the trip was mainly behind us - only at the head of High Cup Nick did it come from the side, trying to whip us down into the valley) and it was lashing it down.

How to describe High Cup Nick to those who don't know it? Well, it's a valley, but it has the shape of a snowboarding half-pipe, with steep sides at the top with a layer of rock before giving way to scree and grass. Of course there's also the winding stream running along the bottom of the valley. If you've not seen it then google it and find a photo - it's very impressive.

It would have been a fine place to spend half an hour, maybe have elevenses, but the weather dictated that all we did was take a quick photo (justifying the water-resistant camera) and then hurry on.

We managed to get the tent pitched in Dufton before the worst of the rain hit (just 1pm we arrived) and then retreated to the pub for a humungously large roast dinner and a pint of Black Sheep's finest ale.

Mick will now be nursing his feet for the rest of the afternoon and having trepidatious thoughts about tomorrow's mileage. His feet are still not happy. He is not happy that they are not happy. But, for now, he is managing to soldier on.

Day 47 - Brown Rigg Moss to Langdon Beck

31 May
Distance: 16 miles
Number of other people seen: about a million
Number of other people seen other than by Low Force and High Force: 5

I stand at risk of sounding like a cracked record, but what a fantastic day!

We awoke to the sound of curlew and lapwings and to the far reaching views of the moors with the dot of a hot air balloon drifting across the sky in the distance.

Having rescued a sheep whose curly horn was stuck fast in a fence (didn't even get a baa of thanks) our morning started with a decent down to Baldersdale. It was something of a novelty to be starting the day down-hill.

By the time we'd passed the reservoirs and started up the other side of the valley the sun was winning over the clouds and a suncream faff was called for.

It was with views extending all around us, getting more impressive the higher we went that we made our way over to Middleton-in-Teesdale.

Given that we're staying in a Youth Hostel tonight there was no value in an early arrival, so a good hour and a half was frittered away in Middleton (where apparently the womanin the Tourist Info Centre didn't know there was a large co-op just around the corner), before we set out along the River Tees.

The river was unremarkable along the first section, but then suddenly became something more impressive, with its hard rock bed and tumbling shelves.

As it became more impressive, so things started getting busy. Low Force is indeed a set of small waterfalls worth seeing and it seemed like today was the day when people had chosen to go there. However,that was nothing compared to how busy it was at High Force (a 70 feet high fall, but in my opinion not that much more impressive than Low Force), although the vast majority of people were on the other side of the river where the guidebook says that you have to pay to see the falls. I guess that people would prefer to pay and not have to walk any distance than park somewhere on the other side of the river and take in all of the spectacles that the Tees has to offer.

Taking a ten minute shoe-off break (the day was hot by this time and my feet needed to breathe) Mick decided to soak his in the river. He reported that it was quite bracingly cold. We couldn't believe when Sarah and Eddie caught up with us (they're the couple walking the Pennine Way) that Eddie had actually taken a swim. Refreshing was the understatement he used to describe it.

Doug (the most recent End-to-Ender we've met), Sarah & Eddie and Mick & I all arrived at the Youth Hostel within five minutes of each other, and not long later they let us in, whereupon we all made a bee-line for the kettle.

The Youth Hostel here at Langdon Beck is a nice building and the views are first rate. I can't complain about the facilities either: we have our own room, have had a hot shower and the washing is drying in the nice warm drying room. However, at £50 including an evening meal for Mick (but he has to wash his own plate!) but no breakfast for either of us, there is the feeling that if there was a B&B then we may just as well have stayed there. For an extra £10 we could have had a double bed and a breakfast. Mind, there's not many a B&B that will sell you a bottle of organic wine for under a fiver. Now if only there was a bath to go with it...