Part of the difficulty in completing the mileage we set each day is that we spend so much time admiring the scenery and taking photographs and we don’t realise how much it eats in to our day. It’s never enough to have a quick look, some of us like to sit and idly contemplate it before completing any serious mileage.
Following a fish tea last night, we retired to one of the best B & B’s we have stayed in; The Anchorage in Eyemouth. Janice and her husband Vernon could not do enough for us, even going so far as to make sure we had up to date weather reports for the next couple of days. While it was to be cloudy and overcast it looked like we might avoid rain. Renewed by a good night’s sleep and, fortified with one of Janice’s lovely fresh fruit breakfasts, we were early on the road and heading for the harbour to pick up where we had left off the night before. As well as having a long fishing history, the town of Eyemouth and the surrounding coast have an historical reputation for smuggling. The sandstone cliffs with their many caves and inlets lent themselves to this nefarious trade and there is no greater monument to the success of the trade than the intruiging Gunsgreen House down by the harbour. This beautifully proportioned house; said to have been designed with the smuggling trade in mind, contains many secret stashes and hideaways where the content of the illicit trade could be hidden from customs officers. Initially commissioned and owned by John Nisbet, merchantman and smuggler, it is today both a museum and holiday accommodation. Another little gem that I came across in the town, unfortunately when I did not have my camera with me, is the aptly named Church Watch Tower. This listed building, built almost entirely from old and fallen down gravestones, was manned to deter body snatchers from nearby Edinburgh (think here William Burke & William Hare) operating in the local graveyard, acquiring cadavers for dissection. Crossing the harbour and passing by Gunsgreen House we diverted from the Berwickshire Coastal Path for a short time to climb up on to the walkway that runs from above the point at Nestends along the inside (landward) edge of the local golf course. From Nestends we could see across the harbour to the site of the old fort (built 1547) on the promontory and, beyond to the cliffs we had walked last night by Coldingham. Half way along the walkway we re-joined the Berwickshire path to walk along the seaward side of the golf course and followed the cliffs almost all the way to Berwick upon Tweed. In places, the cliffs on this section will be over three hundred feet high with views north and south pretty and at times outright majestic. For the most part, the cliffs that we have walked on this adventure have been sandstone. It lends itself more easily to erosion than other rocks and this has resulted in some of the numerous rock features, caves, spindles, stacks, etc., that we have seen. The coastline from Eyemouth south to Berwick is littered with such features, albeit not all necessarily sandstone. There is, for example, some sections that are chalk / limestone plate that offer very specific habitats for flora and fauna. Part of the difficulty in completing the mileage we set each day is that we spend so much time admiring the scenery and taking photographs and we don’t realise how much it eats in to our day. It’s never enough to have a quick look, some of us like to sit and idly contemplate it before completing any serious mileage. On the section between Eyemouth and Burnmouth Bay, there are any number of rock formations to grab your attention. The sculpting of the rock testifies to the savagery of the sea that has cut them. Their natural beauty is undeniable; but the latent strength and intensity of the sea in its never-ending battle with rock is also captivating, overwhelming and at times can be frightening. Much as when one looks at the night sky and ponders the insignificance of man, so too does contemplation of the power and cruelty of the sea on the physical and human environment encourage you to conclude how puny we are in the face of it. The coastline is constantly changing. Like footsteps in the sand, all evidence of our having been here will be gone by the morrow, if not in the hour. As we sleep, so the sea fashions the shores of our life anew! We enjoy a leisurely stroll along the cliff top on a clear grassy path. While the sky behind is mottled and grey, to the front there are elements of light that offers promise. The dull, hazy sun glints on the remaining dewdrops on the late spring flowers. Our soundscape is the crash of the waves, the insistent buzz of the bees and, occasionally, a still silence. Approaching the old village of Burnmouth, we are forced inland by the large gully that runs into Burnmouth Hill and right up to the edge of the railway line. As we exit, we find a fine stand of pretty, old fashioned, Scots thistles. From here and on down the steep hill road in to the village, wild and cultivated flowers grow in abundance in the verges. There are myriad beautiful scents in the air. As we step through them they are like the individual notes of a spring sonnet. In the background, the hum of the hover fly’s wings fills in the spaces between the rustles of the denizens of the long grass. Where to look? Where to stop and spend precious time having a ‘Wordsworth’ moment? Or to enjoy the short contemplation of Nature that Coleridge (Frost at Midnight) called the ‘Great Universal Teacher’. Burnmouth is the first village in Scotland of any substance that you come to when you cross the border on the East coast. It lies just off the A1 and the main East-coast rail line runs along the side of the hill. As a village, it appears insubstantial, partly because it is small, but also because it is spread out below, above and on the side of hill. The communities below the top of the hill are split in to Lower Burnmouth, Partanhall, Cowdrait & Ross. The community on top of the hill is known as Upper Burnmouth. With the tide out, the harbour (Lower Burnmouth) appears bereft, abandoned by the fishing fleets of old. On the harbour wall is another of the Jill Watson, bronze memorial plaques to the victims of the 1881 East Coast fishing disaster. The loss of live for each coastal community following this disaster was Eyemouth 129; Burnmouth 24; Newhaven 17; Cove 11; Fisherrow 7 and Coldingham Shore 3. Following the disaster, a sum of over £50,000 was raised for the families and survivors, over £4.5 million in today's (2015) money After a quick toilet stop we left the village via a steep, stepped path accessed behind the houses at the south end of the village (Cowdrait). Rising steeply and ziz-zagging up the path, we are soon back on to the cliff top and heading for the border with England and beyond that Berwick upon Tweed. Towards the top of the brae we pass the last of the four communities of Burnmouth, Ross, now reduced to five or six houses. Our time on the cliff edge is short as our route cuts inland behind a dyke-like system running along the edge of the main coast railway, probably made up of the waste from the rail construction. Occasional breaks in the dyke system allow us to scan the skyline in search of the peregrine falcons that are known to nest here. Estimated to reach 180 miles per hour as it swoops on its prey, a blow from the peregrine breaks the neck of its victim, usually grouse or pigeon’s, in one strike. We had no luck in trying to see one! On a break in the hill to our left, by Lamberton Beach, we see clearly the ruins of what is known as the Smugglers Bothy. Built about 1760 by another infamous East Coast smuggler, one John Robertson of the parish, in later life it was used as a salmon fishery building. Robertson used to smuggle tea using the bothy as a stop over point before moving the goods onward via a nearby inn on the North Road. Robertson is reported to have become quite wealthy and he eventually took over the mortgage of Gunsgreen House in Eyemouth (mentioned earlier), which then became the focus for his smuggling. At various points along the foot of the dyke we noted a number of small mounds that we learned were the anthills of the yellow meadow ant. The actual nest is underground and the function of the dome-like structure is to manage the temperature in the nest. Also to be found along this route, particularly at the beginning of the dyke at Catcairn Bushes, is the relatively rare, small blue butterfly, which prefers kidney vetch (small yellow flower) as its main habitat. The habitat here on top of the cliff is chalk / lime grasslands that a number of the wildflowers love. There is an interesting relationship between the yellow ants and the small blue butterfly in that the ants, attracted by a secretion, bury the larvae of the butterfly, thereby protecting it from birds, etc. Just after passing Maryfield, the cliffs widen by the side of Marshall Meadows Bay. As we approach the area from the north we see two or three wonderfully situated picnic tables on the headland and cannot resist stopping here for lunch. Wildly isolated and serene, the views to north and south were stunning and if there are better situated tables in Scotland tell me where they are? Following lunch we walked round the headland to admire the views south before heading back up to Berwickshire path again, back along the side of the railway line. We knew we were very close to the border at this point and within ten or fifteen minutes we were doing our tourist act and posing by the border posts. The border post is also marked on the railway line but the Scotland side of the sign has broken off and not yet been replaced. Shortly after Marshall Meadows Bay we moved closer to the cliff top again where were rewarded with great views in to the caves at the Needle’s Eye. On the grasslands above the caves there numerous early purple orchids that were a contrast to the common pink orchid we are more used to seeing in the uplands when we are hillwalking. At the edge of the path here we passed long swathes of white and yellow ‘marguerites’ swaying gently in the breeze. Here and there, poppies of various hues of red and orange bobbed merrily at the field margins. On the steep slopes, bright patches of thrift, or sea pink marched lemming-like over the cliff edge at Brotherston's Hole. Shortly after the Needle’s Eye, the path follows along the edge of the Magdalene Fields golf course, which is in two parts, the other part being in the town. There are numerous cave systems underneath the cliffs by the golf course and, if you look carefully at the photographs of Brotherston’s Hole and the sea pinks, you will see bare patches of brown earth, evidence of recent soil erosion. Both together may lead you to think they might not have a golf course for much longer. It is a short walk from Brotherston’s Hole, round the holiday camp and down on to the ramparts of the seaward side of the town. A walk along here reminds you that this was a heavily fortified town at one time and was under siege on numerous occasions in Middle and later ages. To make it easier for ourselves tomorrow, we followed the rampart round the town passed Meadow Haven, on to the banks of the Tweed, up to the bridge crossings where we called it a day and headed off to find our accommodation for the night.
1 Comment
Kathy D
1/9/2015 06:16:12 pm
Hope you are storing this together with the photos for the publication of your book. What a lovely experience to share and keep. You two must be so fit by now and the soles of your shoes will be growing thin. Happy meandering gathering memories to keep. Waiting for the next chapter, with love to u both ❤ Kath
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