Paths through nature take me on a nostalgic tour down memory lane.
How well do you know your own country? Your own region? Do you even know what’s in your back garden? You might travel well and see the big sights of the world, but I think there is a lot to see, perhaps more, on your own doorstep than you realise. And with a hike around my old childhood home, I intend to rediscover it.
Growing up in Wark, and Cornhill-on-Tweed adjacent to it, I had great times. Yet, despite having an interest in hiking, I never hiked the area properly, only cycled. That changed many years later but not by nearly enough. So, I took the bus to Cornhill to right that wrong.
A cold start
Before I start, I stop and ponder. I look ahead at the path before me, surrounded by fields and forests. I stand at the start of the public footpath and feel the biting cold of the early morning sinking its teeth into my face. But it’s a nice cold, a refreshing one. I breath in and the air feels so fresh, untampered by pollution. I walk along the path beside the fields, over a little footbridge and into a corridor of trees. Flanked by pines, I walk along the wet grass, with my every breath resembling that of a dragon. Soon the sun becomes more intense and my coat goes in my bag.
Approaching the hamlet of West Learmouth, I take a footpath through a field, once occupied by cows, now growing trees. The burn running beside me is rather overgrown now and after passing some farm buildings, I pass under a mighty viaduct, that I will later walk over towards the end of my journey.
Nature’s reclamation
On joining the byway from West Learmouth to Wark, I notice an immediate change. The woodland part of the path is so overgrown you can’t see the old path and a new one has been carved through a field which once was private and in which cows grazed. I remember walking past them years ago, separated by fencing, on the way to the woods.
The byway has clear paths next to the fields, as wide as single-lane roads. But one stretch is completely overgrown. It's as if there never was a path, that I'm an intruder in the natural world. My feet and trousers soak up the moisture from the morning dew, turning the inside of my boots into swimming pools and I fight through thick and [no] thin to get to the final leg of the byway.
Accompanied by amazing views, I finally make it through to the final stretch of the byway, through a sheep field, into Wark, my feet squelching the whole way.
But that wasn’t to be the end of this takeover. For beyond Wark I hike through Gallows Hill. Beautiful woodland, that I would not recommend accessing by the road as it is potentially fatally dangerous. But in this woodland, despite the paths for farm vehicles, the little piece of public footpath we’re allowed is vastly overgrown. So overgrown, I doubted myself numerous times that I was on the right path, until I found a little sign and further on, a style, all but lost to the flora.
Taking the rest of the public footpath past Gallows Knoll to Shidlaw Farm, I follow the road from there to Sunilaws Station for the final leg of my trip.
The old railway
Sunilaws Station. Here, I join the old railway line that ran from Berwick-upon-Tweed and across the border to Kelso and onto St Boswells. It too, is overgrown, far more than when I used to walk the route years ago. But here, I am greeted by a bounty of beautiful butterflies that stay with me almost all the way to Cornhill.
I cross the viaduct I saw at the start of my walk and look over the edges. I can see rolling hills and field upon field upon field. The wonderful Willow Burn passes under me, not overgrown here, and compliments that vast views perfectly. Standing atop this bridge, I can see the whole of the area and it feels so good.
Walking further along and I stop to imagine the many trains that must have passed through in decades gone by. Trains now replaced by the natural order. Indeed, I see huge hares and even deer along the old rails. But the best duo of deer I saw on this walk was on the byway, running one behind the other along a golden field. As I keep going, I pass through tunnels of trees and countless old bridges before I end up, five hours later, back in Cornhill-on-Tweed.
My old home
But going once around the childhood home would be incomplete without visiting it. Between the byway and Gallows Hill, I stop at the village of Wark. So pretty, so luscious. But I lament on what’s changed. The lack of young people. The encroaching takeover of holiday homes. The old tree by the phone box: felled. But looking at my old house, I remember all the fond childhood memories. Looking at the play park, I remember the days I spent playing in it. Looking at the old castle ruin, the river walk, the little footpaths inside the village, I remember all the exploring we all did as children. That fun left when we all grew up and left and, to my knowledge, has never returned with new generations.
How vast and incredible nature is. The countryside is the home to a whole plethora of flora and fauna, stunning views and fascinating history. All of it on our doorsteps. But how much of it do we know? And do we truly know our country, without knowing our countryside?
Header Image:The Church at Cornhill-on-Tweed
