Sept. 10-11 - still in the Borders

These two days were not the longest walks nor were they the shortest.  Mainly they were significant to me because of the occasional proximity to other people - whether farms, towns, or passing us on the way..

Sheep and a farm house or some other building, fallen into pieces in a little valley with a stream running through it.

One of the very good products of Scottish breweries.  Every night I had a different ale or beer.  Not that I know what is the difference.

Out on the loneliness of Cessford Moor Barbara is looking at her map - - are we in the right place? is this the right footpath?  isn't there a signpost somewhere?

Sometimes the footpath was a clearly marked way - created by cows? sheep? a vehicle?

A dry-laid stone wall has no mortar.  That is a sure sign that people have inhabited this place for a long long time.

Sheep everywhere.  Cannot get away from them.  Not necessary: they will run away as soon as I make a move.

Much more domesticated area, with a great variety of lovely chickens, all waiting for someone to feed them.  I think that's why many of them have turned toward me.

That roof is not slate nor shingle.  It is thatched and probably with some kind of reed.   This is in one of the towns called Yetholm - - Kirk Yetholm, I think.

Mobile food - - This truck brings freshly-fried fish and chips to the town green in Yetholm. The man inside is lifting a piece of fish from the HOT oil.  Smelled just great.  I expect to see food trucks in Washington, DC, not in a tiny village in the Scottish Borders.

We could have eaten in the dining room of the Plough Hotel, but the pub seemed so much friendlier and warmer.  And the food came from the same kitchen.

Outside the "Singing Donkey Hostel" (no, we didn't stay there, just passed it on our walk) a clever reuse of worn-out hiking boots.  Very appropriate for this part of the world.

Nearly every day we were passed by a group of about 12 Ramblers (members of a British hiking organization) who were also hiking the SCW.  A bus delivered them each morning and picked them up each afternoon.  Have no idea where they stayed, but it was always good to see a familiar face - even as they "raced" past us.