Day 91 Berwick upon Tweed to Dunbar

 

 Date: Saturday 27^th August  2011   Distance: 36.85 Miles

 

After arriving at 10 pm the previous night, I had a restless sleep caused by the feather pillows but Bob had a good sleep, helped by a tot or two of whiskey. The sea views from the huge windows in our room were splendid. At the bottom of the road and almost on the beach is a camp site and caravan park while adjacent is the Torness Power Station, beloved of the landlady who has a lot of trade from here. It was a surprisingly quiet, despite the proximity of the A1, and relaxing 2 nights stay. We appreciated the radiators as the weather reached a summer low of 8 degrees.

 

This house was the result of much love and care of the present owner who resurrected it from an  insurance- scam “ burn down”  Built in the 1880s, it looks impressive, with a grand entrance hall and a huge Aga in the kitchen. The award winning, black pudding, is recommended and ask for a half- size breakfast!  Breakfast eggs are taken straight from the chicken, almost, and they run loose round the garden with ducks and visiting partridges. The Rottweiler, who wantonly wees in the fowl’s water, was nowhere to be seen or heard but he sounded a hound to be reckoned with as he kept the garden free of foxes. We watched the ducks soak bread in the water bowl before eating it.

 

We took the tandem, still unpacked from the night before, to Dunbar Station where we parked the car all day for £4. The train left at 9.26am and we arrived 20 minutes later in Berwick-on-Tweed. By 10am we were out of town and on the cycle route taking us down a disused road with views back to the old railway bridge but not good enough for a photo due to the greyness of the day and proximity of buildings to it. There was a narrow passage through overgrown hawthorn - bane of all cyclists- but there were no difficult gates all day. Then we took another deserted lane that has England one side and Scotland, the other.  3 or 4 miles further on, we saw the Scottish Border sign on the main road as we crossed.

 

 

 

 

Here we met a young couple who had cycled from Sunderland. They were catching the train in Edinburgh for Fort William, Ullapool and then the Hebrides. They had a hoard of green ribbons with little silver cycles sew on and their web site address-www.armchairbackpacker.co.uk and were giving these to every cyclist they met. We were given 2 luckily, as the rain washed Bob’s clean.

 

It was a long way up and then a long way down. There was a view of Ayton and the castle, turreted and huge in reddish stone. There were views of the river down steep wooded gorges. Ayton seemed a picturesque village with 2 or 3 miles further to go to Eyemouth, which is the largest town in Berwickshire. We went past banks, shops, tea houses, bakers with unusual breads like pumpkin bread. There is a £3.50 charge for the local museum but the little room above has a free exhibition, to do with the day of the Perfect Storm in the 1800s when 129 fishermen lost their lives at sea here. A local artist had made large and small figures out of red, white, grey and black local clay. Everyone has arms held like angels wings and legs as if in a shroud. They are grouped in a tray of sand to represent the men and boys lost in the individual ships. It is a very touching tribute and we were told that relatives have bought whole ship groups of figures and now they are available to buy in the gift shop. Bob and I watched a small boat, a black shape on a sea that seemed quite flat, but every now and then the boat completely disappeared behind huge waves.                

                                 

We had a light lunch. My sandwiches were bursting with crab and Bob had a cheesy, jacket potato. At 1pm we left, riding up for 6 miles (280 metres up) Heather bordered what surely must have been the old main road. Sheep were being herded by a sheep dog and we looked up at hundreds of noisy geese in a farmyard only to look down on them a bit later.

 

Near the top it rained really hard and there was no cover, even trees. There was ice in the rain, sharp on our faces and then we heard the hail on our cycle hats. With rain running off our waterproof coats it made a stream on to our shorts, soon sodden. Further on we passed another couple who were smugly dry after sheltering in a cattle shed. It was a cold 3 miles down the hill for us but there was a lovely view of the land steeply dropping down to the sea. It was ruined as we turned at the bottom to a large collection of caravans. This is called Pease Bay and looked to be a popular place for surfing. There was a fast running deep ford that Bob was itching to ride through but I managed to dissuade him for which he was later grateful! Beyond the red cliffs and sands are wooded glens of Tower and Pease Dean, rich in wildlife but there were too many people here for us.

 

We climbed again and then I saw a cyclist, head showing above a white bridge, along the busy A1. As I pointed him out to Bob he came properly into view, riding a unicycle! We got a good photo of him later as he rode bravely round a roundabout then vaulted off. Our B and B lady said she saw him too but then he had a tricycle following with a brush sticking up out of it. Hope it was a stunt for charity.

 

There was A1 cycleway later which we used as we passed the B and B and the Power station before turning off to Skateraw Harbour. The only boat we saw was causing problems for a car trying to tow it off the beach. The wheels of the Landrover stuck in the sand and panda car police helped push it free. On our right was the Power Station and old lime kilns. We had come for the toilets which were a pleasant surprise, being very clean and with flowers in the Ladies- a sign that someone cares! There were information boards about the areas wildlife. It was only a small place but worth the fairly steep climb back up past a house with an eagle owl in an aviary! It was definitely alive.

 

There were beautiful views out to sea again and we could see a white light- house across the cornfields. Despite the grey day the colour of the corn seemed to cheer the day up.

 

At the massive Cement Works there was a makeshift handwritten sign for the cycle-route to Dunbar beside a narrow path. If we had missed this and we nearly did, we would have been hacking through roads instead. We didn’t see a soul and on the right was the old quarry still used with a conveyor belt linking to the Cement Works visible under the actual path. There were lots of rabbits and a crow flew over us, with a mouse dangling from its beak.

 

We rode into Dunbar at 4.30 managing to see the John Muir Museum before it closed at 5.He was a famous naturalist and conservationist in America but he was born in the house, now the museum, in 1843.The family emigrated but strict Presbyterian upbringing was probably why he and his siblings liked to explore the wilder parts and gave him a reverence for everything natural. This caused him to seek sponsorship from such as President Roosevelt (the 2 of them went camping in the wilderness alone together) in his efforts to secure places like the Yosemites Valley for generations to come. Lothian has miles of paths called the John Muir Way and outside of the town is a Country Park bearing his name- 8 miles of beaches, dunes, salt marsh, pine woods and open grassland. Dunbar town centre has a fine statue of him as a boy with birds.

 

We changed into “longs” in the station loo then moved the car to the Leisure Centre car park near the Harbour. There are actually 2 harbours but one is barricaded from the sea by huge boulders. The other has a staggered entrance, through the ruins of the red stone12th century castle, which keeps the water calmer despite the huge waves breaking over the many rocks. We imagine this to be much painted by artists. It was the site of a famous siege in 1338 when Countess of Dunbar, Black Agnes held 4 months against the English blockade. In 1566 Mary Queen of Scots took refuge there. When the Victoria Harbour was built in 1840s the castle was all but demolished by then innovative electrical charges. Opposite, facing out to open sea is the fortified artillery battery built in 1730.We noticed a lot of Basalt around the fort area. It looked like creatures had been burrowing through but the holes were made from bubbles in the volcanic rock. To the SE is the Cromwell Harbour which gave rise to the success of fishing and whaling in Dunbar.

 

We ate in a pub named after Black Agnes and the beer, Deuchars, was kept well. They were good portions of food despite them giving us pensioners meals!

 

We got back to Band B for 7.30 and walked on the seashore at the bottom of the road. You could only walk through the campsite at high tide. The John Muir way passed by here! It was a pleasant evening with colour in the sky. Fishermen were arriving with lots of equipment hoping to catch sea bass among other fish.