Spending most of his time in the wilder places, Sam has been guiding in the outdoors for over five years, specialising in mountainous and polar environments. His travels have seen him leading scientific expeditions in Antarctica, cycle through Patagonia, and trek through the jungles of Borneo. He enjoys climbing and skiing as well as music, photography, and food.
A monk. A hermit. A Saint.
He can now be found peacefully interned in Durham Cathedral. St. Cuthbert’s life and indeed, his death, has been a long journey, fraught with challenges. He was born in 634AD and in 650AD, he started his religious journey by becoming a monk at Old Melrose Abbey.
1374 years later, we started our own journey. On a quiet summer Saturday evening, a group of wayfarers came together in Burt’s Hotel in Melrose to meet for the first time, on the eve of their 62 mile journey.
A pilgrimage in it’s own right, the St. Cuthbert’s Way is indeed a spiritual journey for many. However, the trail is steeped in history, wildlife, and landscapes that will pique the curiosity of anyone who cares to venture it.
The trail starts at the 12th Century Cistercian monastery, Melrose Abbey. It is the final resting place of many Scottish Kings and is believed to even hold the heart of Robert the Bruce. St. Cuthbert never saw it, as he was a Monk and Abbot at Old Melrose Abbey – about two miles east. Despite this, the gothic towers and arches, shadowed by an overcast sky, provide a gravity to the place that is a fitting start to our journey. And so we went.
Leaving Melrose brings you immediately into the climb up to the prominent saddle of the Eildon Hills; a challenging start. A beautifully carved bench greets you midway up the climb. It was in no time that the group were looking up to the Bronze Age Hill fort above them and afar to the Waterloo Monument that stands as a proud marker of progress for the days to come. From here, the team wandered down into the valley and to the banks of the Tweed.
The Tweed is famous for it’s Salmon. Though we found none, we caught sight of the herons standing vigilant, looking for just such a meal. It was time for lunch, and no a better spot than under the Temple of the Muses: a Hellenistic homage to the poet, James Thomson.
The clouds broke into immaculate sunshine for our second day of walking as we ventured down Deere Street; an old Roman road that cuts through the site of the Battle of Ancrum Moor. Not much is left that would indicate the violence of the place, except for a stone marker to the Heroic Maiden, Lilliard. It is quiet there now.
The sun continued to beat down as we wound our way through the countryside and over the most peculiarly placed suspension bridge over the River Teviot. We continued on to Cessford. The cold, unsentimental tower of Cessford Castle was a welcome site that marked the end of one of our longest days and a subtle reminder of the volatile past of this now tranquil part of the country. The sound of Skylarks danced around us.
In only three days, we made our approach to Wideopen Hill. A peak that marks the highest elevation and middle point of our trek. The glorious weather of the previous day had become a memory to the rain that now marked this occasion; halfway done, halfway there. It wasn’t entirely unwelcome as it kept us comfortably cool on the ascent and added extra impetus on the descent to get down and enjoy a nice warming cup of tea. In fact, the rain added to the feeling of wilderness to our entrance into the Cheviot Hills, having left the placid low lands behind for the time being.
Kirk Yetholm marks the northern end of the Pennine Way, a trail that winds south for 268 miles to Edale, in the Peak District. We left from the Border Hotel on the fourth day to briefly share in this iconic long distance walk before turning off to make out own way across the Cheviot hills. A low mist prevented us from seeing the Stob Stanes, where the Gypsy Kings and Queens of old were crowned. It was this same ghostly mist that bade us farewell from Scotland, like the feeling of melancholic parting of old friends. The mist held; it did not rain. An understated boundary.
This day is one of two climbs. We had crossed into England on the first and were greeted in the valley by warming fresh coffee and a variety of biscuits from David in the minibus. This may have been his rain dance as afterwards, the clouds lifted. We marched on up the second climb to reach the heathland above, spotting the iron age fort of Yeavering Bell as we passed by on the way to Wooler. The upland areas of the Cheviot hills are made from a large igneous complex that formed when two continents collided in the Devonian period. Blocks of granite and old lava flows can be seen in the crags and on the paths through here.
On day five, we once more went up to experience the moorland, surrounded by heather and brackens. After which, descending down into the gentler rolling farmland. We found a farmhouse selling the cheapest quails eggs you’re likely to find anywhere, all free range. The path continued, opening out into expansive fields of white poppies that gazed upon our approach towards St. Cuthbert’s Cave.
After his death, St Cuthbert was buried on Lindisfarne. Only 11 years after his death, he was dug up to protect his body from Viking raiders. Apparently, miraculously, his body had not decayed at all in that time. He was taken to the mainland and hidden away in a natural sandstone cave, now known as St. Cuthbert’s Cave. It’s a very peaceful spot in the woods, away from the road; an almost unnatural calm. We continued afterwards through Kyloe woods to reach Fenwick.
Planning for tides afforded us a later start on our final day, as to reach the mudflats with maximum time to cross before the tide came back in. It was only a short walk to the causeway, passing a long, grey line of antitank defences from World War II. A less imposing line of posts in the mud marks the pilgrims path, and so with shoes stowed in our bags, we made our way across. Barefoot. We mostly found mud, shells, and seaweed, but also the occasional crab and birds in the crossing. Black headed gulls and Curlews aplenty. At intervals, there are shelters on stilts should the pilgrims become trapped by the tide. They look as if they are leaning into the wind, though the weather is calm. Precarious.
As the island got closer we were once again greeted by David, our Trek Manager, armed with water and towels to wash our feet for the last few kilometres to the priory. We followed the coastal path, spying hundreds of seals hauled up on the mud flats. 100km and 6 days after setting off from Melrose Abbey, we reached the hill above the priory where he lived and served, and overlooking the island to which he became a hermit and ultimately found peace. Here we finished our journey. We promptly went looking for coffee and cake to celebrate.
St Cutbert’s Way is a relatively new route for Thistle Trekking but appreciate it more with every visit. We have made a few tweaks since our first trek in 2021 and are now very well acquainted with the twists and turns this wonderful trek. If this has inspired you to walk in St Cuthbert’s footsteps you can find out all about our treks here .