Wednesday 5 April 2023
Nicky and I were absolutely knackered when we got back to the house yesterday. We walked around St Mary’s Loch, stopping for a quick picnic lunch and a coffee and Selkirk Bannock (a kind of bready panettone-fruit cake). With a detour to the remains of a 1500s tower, we ‘only’ walked nine miles, but it was mostly off-road and we didn’t stop from about 11:15 until lunch at around 14:30, other than our largely incident-related visit to the tower.
I fell in a river. The front of my legs were only really wet on the lower half, but the back, I ended up sitting in the stream (“river” may be a slight exaggeration”, so my bum got a bit wet and all the back of my legs.
We were within 50m of the tower, which we were heading for so we could climb up it for the view at the top. The bridge over the stream was closed but we were not to be deterred. We followed the tracks of a quadbike down to the stream, figuring the quadbike would have crossed at the shallowest/easiest point. It was obvious our walking boots would be tested for their waterproofness but there wasn’t an obvious route across in terms of stones suitable for stepping on. I ended up going first. I was about one step away from a gazelle-like leap up the low bank on the other side when one foot slid on a stone, I put the other foot down into a deeper part of the stream, that also slipped. I don’t really know what happened but it was a series of near slips in, until the final one had me landing on the bottom of the stream. I then remember frantic scrambling and then I was out and on the bank, wet. My first thoughts were amazement that Nicky wasn’t laughing as much as I would have expected, then that my car keys, phone and camera were in a wet pocket (retrieved and all surprisingly fine), then that I hadn’t noticed the water feeling particularly cold, then that my cargo trousers had some of the slippery green/brown slime down them and finally, “Hurrah, I crossed the river”. I then started to notice that my socks and feet were wet, though from water going in at the top rather than through the boots. Nicky, bless her, was adamant that she would also cross the stream so we would at least be on the same side together. Meanwhile, a crowd of sheep had formed above us, clearly there for the entertainment. Nicky and I walked up and down that area of stream, trying to find better stepping stones to cross. By then, another two walkers had arrived and were clearly trying to determine how one of us was across and one wasn’t and whether we would be reunited on the same side of the stream. Soon after they surreptitiously started watching us, I found a button-like rock that I dropped into the stream as an extra steppingstone for Nicky. She made it across without falling in, but was in up to her ankles. Hurrah, massive sense of “Phew, we made it!”. The other two walkers sat on the steps of the closed-off bridge and ate their lunch, discreetly watching our progress (they gave up trying to cross, possibly largely because of seeing how wet even Nicky got without falling in, ie wet up to her ankles).
Nicky and I walked up a slope to the tower, pushed open the door and walked into the hollowed-out 1500s tower, formerly a fortified home. The roof was largely intact and, as we knew from having read about the walk and the detour to the tower, there was a metal staircase up to a corner of the roof that was open to the sky. The tower was full of feathers and decades of bird poo. Nicky and I both have vertigo issues. The staircase was a spiral, probably only three full circles, but with more holes (by design rather than decay) than metal, meaning pretty much full vision up to the sky as well as down to the ground. Nicky went first, both of us grossed out by the layers of bird poo on the hand rail. I managed about half a spiral before realising there was no way I would get to the top, let alone across the short landing stage and certainly not back down again. Nicky was a bit further than me, also faltering. I went back down, shortly followed by her. We decided it was kind of okay to be disappointed in ourselves for not getting to the top because we had, after all, just completed a perilous river crossing.
All that then remained was to get back across the river, under the subtle surveillance of the two people still eating their lunch. The sheep seemed to gather for the second act. We virtually bounded back across the river, no longer bothered about being ankle-deep in water. Then the sun came out and warmed my wet legs for long enough to dry the worst of the wetness.
We set off back to the side of the loch below, ready to continue our circumnavigation and find a picnic spot that wasn’t in the wind tunnel we had found ourselves in. We both need the loo. At one point, Nicky walked to the edge of the river, afterwards saying she had wondered if it might be hidden enough for a wild wee. She had then – bearing in mind she was wearing a bright pink jacket – happened to look around and noticed a high-vis-clad man up a nearby mast fixing something. We carried on walking, having a brief chat with the three high-vis men, my telling them, ridiculously proudly, I’d just fallen into a river (“river” sounds far more derring-do). As we were alongside the area they were working on, Nicky spotted their Portaloo. We asked if we could use it and, to our delight, a surprisingly clean toilet stop was enjoyed, complete with loo roll and running water.
By the time we got back to the car shortly before 16:00, I was far more achy and tired than I would have expected. I had done 22,000 steps (well, we both had; that was just my phone’s calculation. Nicky’s Garmin told us we had done 15km). I have walked 22,000 steps in London a fair few times. I have felt tired, but nowhere near as tired as those 22,000 steps. I am now thinking that my measly 3,000 steps around here most days (at a stretch; it’s sometimes less) may be worth nearer 6,000. I’m going to go with that, it’ll make me feel better. They are definitely more challenging steps than pavement steps. This morning, I haven’t seen Nicky yet but she was also feeling the effects of our walk by the time we got back to the house so I suspect she too will feel achy. I am still mildly horrified by how unfit this has made me feel. I thought I could walk for miles, but it would appear that I need to add the caveat “on pavements” and in “flat parks”.
We got back to the house and joined Chris, sitting in his new armchair. Nicky flaked out on the settee and wrapped herself in a blanket, and I sat on my new Mastermind-style chair, which rocks and reclines so vigorously that Chris and Nicky kept gasping every time I moved. I’m sure it’s robust enough. Any chair would have been a joy by the time we got back, but I am pleased with my new chair. Chris noticed that I had got muddy stuff on my chair, so I got out of my stream-fall clothes and had a shower. My poor feet had definitely been wetter than I had realised and my trousers weren’t in a happy state. We then had an Indian feast for dinner and up to the bedrooms by ten. I was fast asleep around the time my head hit the pillow.
