DAY SIXTEEN

DAY SIXTEEN

We woke around 6am, hot and uncomfortable from a night stuck in a tent. The sun was aleady warm through the fabric, but we lay still for another hour before getting up around 7:30. Knowone had passed the tent all night and only now at eight, did the first of the morning cyclists ride past up to Kings Seat.

Ash set about making a welcomed cup of tea, as I hopelessly tried to dry out the tent and remove hundreds of drowned midges stuck to the fabric. After a bit of breakfast we were packed and heading off. I was surprised how the weight of our backpacks didn't drag us down. We did struggle to agree who had the heaviest pack, but I think we agreed it was mine (that's right wasn't it Ash?)

The first hill of the day wasn't too bad, up to Kings Seat. By now we could see down accross the full Cheviots and even out to the sea.. Beautiful rolling countryside surrounded us in all directions, and it was another hot day.

Ash insisted that If we had come this far we had to climb the additional distance up to the Cheviot ridge at 815. Although this was another two miles, the climb was worth doing for the view and cool breeze, not to mention the sence of achievement.

The Schil was our next big climb, after passing another mountain rescue hut and a team of people learning mountain rescue skills. We were only 6 miles off the end of the day and we were starting to get excited, starting to realise we might actually make it, and foolishly relaxing a little too much and not mentally preparing ourselfs for the long climbs we still has ahead if us. We hoped a surprise party might be waiting for us with Pimms but alas nothing at the top of the next hill.

Once off the Schil a decission had to be made as the PW route split. One way down hill, and 4 miles; the other, up hill and 4.5 miles. Being insane and purists there was only one thing to do, up! If we had realised quite what was meant by 'up' we'd probabley have thought longer about our decission. The remaining journey was tough going with an especially steep up to White Law Hill. All being said, the view was great and, we could almost see down the road into Kirk Yetholm.

The final half a mile was along a tarmac road. It was really hot and yet another final up hill. By now we were exhausted and every footstep was taken knowing we were almost, almost there.

Round a final corner and we started to enter the village. Quite houses lined the side of the road as it opened up to the village green. Just as the final sign was in view we heard the church bell chime out 3pm calling us home from our journey. The village was quiet but for a few people sat outside the pub. They watched as we crossed the green to take our photo at the official finish, knowone knew we'd just walked 260 miles, who we were, our our story. We strode through the door of the pub, with a smug sence of satisfaction, and a little sadness, that it was over.

Inside the pub we asked for the Pennine Way book and recieved our free half as we thouht if something to write to mark the occassion. By now my legs had siezed up and I struggled to get up for another drink and then the three minute walk to our final B&B at the Cross Keys.

We were welcomed in by Mrs Doyle who showed us our room and a postcard left by my parents to welcome us. After a brilliant power shower, Dawn arrived, and we headed to the Boarder pub for a hearty and delicious meal.

We did it! We actually did it we celebrated! What a strange mix of emotions washed over me as I reflected upon everything we had achieved.