Friday, August 31, 2012

St. Boswell's to Harestane

So-called "Dere Street"
Today started out bright and sunny and we set out in high spirits. Our walk today however, turned into another day of slogging through mud. It would have been a lovely woodland walk along the River Tweed, and walking down a Roman road called Dere Street sounds pretty straightforward, right? The mud was like quicksand in some  places and almost took Marlene's boot off, causing her to twist her knee. She limped to the Harestane Visitors Centre where we had tea and waited for a taxi to take us to our Bed and Breakfast at Airenlea in Jedborough. Hopefully, her knee will be better tomorrow. Meanwhile, I seem to have left my journal somewhere which is a heartbreak because it also contained my journaling from the Camino.


  1. Oran Mor, I hope you are helping Marlene with appropriate medicinal spirits of which the Scots have a highly esteemed reputation. The Smart Phone must be driving you nuts and as Natalie said, “it is both dumb and stupid”. Is there a way you can just stop when the weather becomes dreek and dreary? I thought August was the warmest and driest month there, like it is in San Diego, but what do I know? Anyway, we all feel terrible about your journal and please keep posting your blog. Perhaps this will become your new electronic journal.

  2. WOW! I just down loaded the picture of the muddy trail. It did not look bad until I expanded it in PowerPoint. Are you two training for the US to return to Vietnam or what?

  3. This is from Marvin Fackler – he is having his own drama with the blog: WOW! Bev I am so glad you are again sharing your trip with us. You muddy trail reminds me of a passage in a book I am just starting to read. A young Air Force Lt. is training to be an O.E.D. specialist, and part of the training of course is physical. As they are running up a hill the sand is moving under their feet, so he thinks to himself just a few feet to his left or right the grass is holding solid ground! He shifts over just the few feet and the instructor simply runs up beside him and said, “Don’t be afraid of a little sand LT.” I picture you as the instructor saying, “Don’t be afraid of a little mud” All I can say is as usual I awe in all of you and your fortitude. Sorry to hear of the loss of the journal, but I know your memories of the trip are everlasting.