Stands of dark water

Stands of dark water

17th February 2018

Tucked into the folds of the Border hills lie glistening stands of dark  water. They appear suddenly when cresting a knoll or rounding  a bend or dropping from high ground into the pleat of a hill. All distinguished by location, size and setting, each with its own character and atmosphere. Some are steep sided and lethal, sitting deep into the ground with sharp drops from the surrounding land. Others seem to fit the land better, with gentle sloping access running easily from land to water and out again. Others are edged by trees and undergrowth that need passing before the waters edge is found. In the hills above Abbotsford house, close to Galashiels are two such lochs. The day is grey and cold as we pull quickly up onto the edge line of hills that runs to the south of the B6360. A small plantation of beech trees tops the main hill before  we head off to our right in search of the waymarked path.  The height we have gained has already opened up views across the River Tweed to the hills around Galashiels, while off to the west the snow covered tops of the Ettrick valley line the horizon. Enclosed, among a  stand of trees on the opposing hillside, sit large country houses, one with a saltire flying proudly from its imposing turret.  The path verges the hillside, a cutting salvo of wind rolls up the valley reminding us of winters continuing grip. Off to the side what looks like the remnants of old gateway lie strewn alongside the path. Nearby, a collection of metal columns and blocks of cut stone are neatly stacked. The path drops through woodland while ahead, the shimmering pate of Foudlshiels loch appears through the trees. The tarn sunk into the land, high ground all around. A few mallard float on its surface, on the far side a small wooden jetty protrudes across the water. Shortly,we leave the water behind and follow the path through the outbuildings of a small homestead that bestrides the route. Snowdrops line the side of the cottage, their white pearl flowers one of the early signs of spring. In the field opposite a collection of lethargic looking ponies stand idle, each sporting their plastic winter overcoat to protect against the raw blustery wind. Turning left we follow the farm track to the road end where it opens into a circular car park. A swing gate takes us quickly to the side of Cauldshiels loch. It is much larger than Fouldshiels and must be about a kilometre long and as wide as a football field. There is easy access to the water’s edge with no precipitous drops or dense undergrowth to be negotiated. We follow the path skirting close to the water’s edge. Pine and oak trees line this side of the loch and their exposed roots need to be negotiated as they criss cross the steep slope that runs down to the lapping water. Further on, as we reach the end of the loch the path becomes inundated as the prevailing wind has driven the waters over the loch side. A line of small bushes, earlier  markers of the boundary,  are submerged in the lapping water a few metres from the shore.  Emerging from the trees we cross the top end of the tarn where  the ground  is steep and gorged with old sheep tracks.  Here and for the full length of the northern boundary  the ground is devoid of any tress or shrubbery. The path becomes waterlogged and boggy before we pull away from the  edge  up onto the surrounding high ground. Before us a line of Canadian geese, spotting our approach,  march in single file from a muddy field before entering the water in an orderely fashion.  Just beyond a pair of cormorants perch on fence posts sitting in the shallow waters of the lochs edge. Further beyond a large mute swan glides calmly on the surface. We tramp up the muddy slope to  gain a different view. In the distance the Eildon hills, to our right small hillocks border the far end of the decline where the loch sits. Opposite, recent tree felling has exposed the hill top sitting just beyond the southern flank. We attempt to seek out the remnants of an old military road that runs southwest from the Eildon’s. The earthwork involved apparently, unequalled across the Borders. It consists of two ditches and two earth banks, running for over four miles across field and hillside. From the crest of the slope in the middle  distance we see a straight line of high ground running from Cauldshiels hill where the remains of the road are meant to be. Given the distance we are dis-inclined to explore further. Turning  to our right we return to the narrow part of the loch where our traverse began. The field is bordered by a moss covered stone wall, the top boulders carpeted with a thick green baize. A line of old fence posts lie propped against the wall, linked by rusted cords of barbed wire, that loop and twist between the timber uprights. The ground beneath covered still with a thick layer of brown and gold beech leaves. Dropping back onto the main track we quickly regain the side of Fouldshiels, the sun suddenly appearing, giving light and colour to the water below. We follow the path back to the roadside and cross over into the newly cleared woodland that lies west of Abbotsford house. Grit covered pathways have been  laid to create a circular walk from the house to the edge of the woodland and back again. New parking areas make for easy access. The path that leads from the wood runs close to the banks of the Tweed. On the opposite bank we encounter another  cormorant, with a conspicious white underside. It  has left the water and taken up position on a small promontory. His head flicks comically from side to side as it scours the river.  Diving from his perch his wings slap the water before picking up speed as he accelerates majestically into the distance, skimming the choppy surface. His territory likely to include the twin lochs of Cauldshiels and Faldonside sitting peacefully above the ambling Tweed.

 Sun setting over Fauldshiels loch