Day 0: Mobilisation

There’s something satisfying about starting a holiday by simply walking out of your house and into the world. Also to be leaving as the rest of Manchester is setting off to work. Long queues of slowly moving cars, commuters communing with their phones; wrapped in their own worlds, oblivious to their surroundings.

I have a short walk to the tram stop, picking up cash on the way. A cool morning, but promising a mild autumn day. I had my own last minute moment of indecision over final clothing choices. A late what to wear crisis. The next week looks very mild – could I forgo fleece and legging additions to travel light? In the end I threw them in, the downside of a large rucksack. Temperatures have been dropping lately, but if I end up not needing these items then I will have escaped lightly for October. Most on the morning commute seem to agree that the season is changing: coats, scarves and fleeces abound. I'm in a T shirt, but then I am on holiday aren't I?

My rucksack feels heavier than expected. At 14kg it is weigh over target (sorry). But I realise I have all of the tent, stove, fuel, and food for the two of us. It feels historically appropriate to be looking forward to some redistribution of property in Berwick. I should then be carrying just over 11kg.

My heritage train eventually chugs into York, and what a lovely sunny day it is in  Yorkshire. 

I've got time for a spot of tourism, so along the city walls I go, over the river and into the Minster gardens. I get a message from Simon telling me train delayed. Sure enough, when I get back to the station the train is delayed by an unquantifiable time. This is caused by a low speed derailment at Sheffield station. 

Eventually things start to move, but by one of those quirks of fate the delay is almost exactly equal to the spare time we have at Berwick. So we'll probably miss the bus. Next bus 2 hours later, but with 11 hour wait in Kelso. But then the delay comes down. And then back up again. Whoever said that train travel was not exciting?

Time has progressed but not our train. We have missed the bus connections that will get us to Kirk Yetholm today. Options are night in Berwick; night in Kelso; taxi to Kirk Yetholm. I have been to Berwick before on a very expensive weekend away with Stephen and Philippa and was memorably underwhelmed by the delights on offer. Strange, because the town should have lots going for it: walls, history, location, etc. Plan in tatters, but a reassessment of Berwick’s nightlife is looking to be the hot favourite.

We are now booked in to Berwick youth hostel. Our initial view from the main street was of a somewhat tawdry town that had seen better days. But on Bridge Street near the hostel things look more interesting, including a micro brewery. Got chatting to a local who told us to forget the high street (it can go and fuck itself, as he descriptively put it) and stick to the bars and cafes of bridge street.

My hopes of shifting a lot of weight onto Simon were dashed when we discovered his pack was as heavy as mine. Without any team items. The subsequent inquest did not reveal a great deal, except for an excess of underwear, and we concluded that all of his gear items were individually heavier than mine. Clearly not done his prep properly.

And what a lively night we've had.
Managed to buy food in Iceland minutes before they closed at 6pm - hard to believe this is the only food outlet in central Berwick. Quick couple of pints in The Barrels, very quirky pub, and back to youth hostel to cook pasta with broccoli and cheese sauce. Then out to the aptly named Curfew  a micropub that closes at 9. Pint there and then onto Atelier on Bridge St for last orders. Really interesting guy running this bar. Marcus is from Germany and came over when his parents bought a hotel on holy island. He is aiming to set up his own micro brewery and was full of life.

I don't think kirk yetholm would have been such fun, so plan all askew but perhaps for the best. Will catch up with 06.55 bus in the morning.

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