Day 10: Sunday 12th July 2015

Sunday

And so we come to the last full day at Causeway House.

It seems just minutes ago that it felt that we had the whole week stretched out in front of us, and now, time is slipping through our fingers.

We have a lazy start to the day, laying in bed until nearly eight, wondering if the noise from outside is the rain falling or just wind in the trees.

We do get up and have coffee and the other half of the croissants from yesterday. The world seems so much better with a damn fine cup of coffee and croissants to dunk in the coffee.

We sit in the living room, listening to the radio, after 5 days here we found by moving the radio 6 inches we can pick up DAB and so Radio 6. Just wonderful listening to the songs, the chat.

Outside rain falls, the wind blows, so we sit in the warmth watching the time slip by. But, we have things to do, to visit some old friends an hour away, and the weather is due to improve, so no time to waste!

Sam and Bev live in Hawick, pronounced Hoik, and we did try to find them last year when we were up here and little did we know but we passed within yards of their house, even parking our car in sight of theirs.

But I phoned ahead, and all was good. We just have to drive due north, and that means our favourite road, the A68. A road which heads north west from Scotch Corner on the A1 and heads cross-country to Edinburgh. But in places, it follows an old Roman road, and rises and falls over hills in a dead straight line, but is like a roller-coaster.

We drive to Hexham, then strike north. It is mid-Sunday morning, but traffic is light, which is good as we can use all the horses under the bonnet to get a good run up at the blind summits. And within a few minutes were are lifting off as we go over one then another and then another. But the big three are yet to come. We pass a Swiss driver, tootling along, and take a good run at it, and as we go over the third and biggest hill, I lose confidence as the road keeps going on and on and I can’t see where the hill straightens out. I take my foot off the accelerator, we hit firm ground, and continue on.

The border between England and Scotland is at the top of a pass, and there is a greasy spoon set up, as well as a man in a skirt, sorry kilt, playing pipes and selling CDs. He wants folks to pay for photographing him. We don’t.

We have an ice cream, admire the view, then head into the wild lands of Caledonia. We take the first turn off the main road, heading to Hawick. The sun was out, casting patterns of light and shade over the land, it is glorious. Sometimes its enough to witness it, rather than just try to photograph everything. What I am saying is there are no photos of that part of the trip, just these words.

The road twists and turns, I get more confident with the car, and we are whistling round the bends and up and down the hills. It is all rather fun.

We arrive in Hawick, and I call Sam: I leave a message and drive to the postcode he gave me the day before. It really is where we were last year. Bev comes down from their house to meet us, and they live in a gatekeepers cottage on the edge of a huge public park. A wonderful place, and one they are filling with their young family: Olive and Indigo. I forgot how full of life and curiosity young children can be, it makes my head spin, but also puts joy in my heart.

Sam comes home from his studio, and we talk more, before he takes Jools and I for a walk to his studio-cum-gallery in town. It is wonderful, and to top it off, the day before he arranged a photo-marathon, and 50 photographers came from all over the country to take part.

Time is beating us, and after walking back through part of the park, we go back to the car to drive back south to Blighty. The plan was to drive to Alston to check on the Tyne Helleborines to snap them, if they were open, otherwise we would have to return on Wednesday.

Instead of the A68, we drive through Kielder Forest, past where we stayed last year. The sun is still out, and to see landscapes on that grand scale is just wonderful. At one point we stop to watch a pair of buzzards riding the thermals over a river a few hundred metres away, before driving on.

It takes a long time to get through the park, then south of the main road to Alston: and I have programed the wrong road into the sat nav: we try heading cross country and travel five mailes along this narrow lane that clings to the side of a hill, lines with dry stone walls, only for it to end at a bolted gate. We have to reverse ages before we can turn around. To make matters worse, the fule light comes on and I begin to panic.

We drive into Alston at 6, and get to the petrol station just as it is about to close, but we do fill up, so can get back to the cottage. We take the other road out of the town, hugging the side of the South Tyne valley until we come to the small side road. Fingers crossed we will find on plant with a flower open.....

Across the bridge and into the reserve, it takes 5 minutes to find the spikes, and it seems that nothing has happened. Not one flower open, although a couple are close and one seems to be just opening. We will have to return later in the week.

It was a half hour drive home, and with tow large punnets of gooseberries in the fridge, Jools makes a fine crumble for supper. As it is cooking, I see white wings outside. We go out and in time we see a barn owl, hunting, sweeping up and down the fields, dropping when it sees something nice and furry to eat.

It flies out of site, and the fine smell from inside tells us the crumble is ready to eat.