The stories are endless.

Leg Five - Selkirk to Melrose.

Distance: 11.6 miles (69.6 total)

Time: 4 hrs 58 mins.

Wildlife: Rabbit, heron, jumping deer, not jumping frog (dead)

Barnaby's Song of the Day: The Boss (and if you don't know who The Boss is, then away and boil yer heid)

So today was the last leg and it was a beautiful leg. But this evening I want to talk about why we're doing this walk, why we created this walk, and what we'll create on future walks.

To start us off, we need to talk about why I did this walk. I did this walk because of all the stories I heard Uncle Jimmy and Daddy talking about when they were remembering their walks. When they told those stories they were always laughing away, especially the story about when Daddy got them so, so, so lost that they had to take off their shoes and socks and cross a big, cold river in the pouring rain.

Those stories inspired me to want to do my own walks with Daddy, so that we could create our own stories to share. You might remember that yesterday I talked about how we hadn't met anybody on The Borders Abbeys Way, but today was an exception because as we were descending from this leg's peak (where we sang all seven verses of Praise to the Holiest!) we met two experienced walkers sitting on seats taking in the wonderful views across the hills. We stopped and talked with them for quite a while and they recommended several walks that we didn't know about, but one of the walks that kept popping up was The West Highland Way, which has made me even more eager to do that walk at some point. It felt good to talk to somebody who knew all about The Borders and who shared our excitement about walking.

I've been reflecting a lot about how we wouldn't be here now having accomplished this walk if it weren't for Godfather Paul saying to Daddy, over twenty years ago, "We're going on holiday for the weekend"; what he meant by that though was not a relaxing drive to the beach and sunbathing in boiling hot weather, no, what he meant was going off and doing a forty-two mile walk in one day.

At the end of my first long walk in Scotland I feel overcome with happiness, excitement and a sense of achievement and I knew that this was going to be a first walk of many. I especially hope that I will do some of those future walks with Godfather Paul, Uncle Jimmy and hopefully even James...

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Daddy's postscript:

Barnaby's biggest walking obsession is with the pilgrimage I made in 2010 from Iona to Lindisfarne. He so wants us to repeat the walk together, and we're already trying to figure out if it might be possible during his extended GCSE summer holiday... only six years away.

One of the things that most intrigues Barnaby about that walk is the idea that it was a route that I planned and created myself. The idea of creating your own walk really tugs at his imagination. Several times this week he's asked me to show him how I plan walks; "I want to learn, so that I can plan walks of my own."

The stories go on, and they are indeed endless.

Praise to the Holiest

 Leg Four - Hawick to Selkirk.

Distance: 14.8 miles (58 miles total).

Time: 6 hrs 54 mins.

Wildlife: Pheasant, grouse, rabbit and heron.

Barnaby's Song of the Day: Praise to the Holiest.

Today started with a very long climb out of Hawick. The weather this morning was an extreme improvement on the weather yesterday. Today was one of the most important parts of the walk when we reached its highest point and sang 'Praise to the Holiest' with our hands above our heads. We were re-starting a tradition that Daddy and Godfather Paul started thirteen years ago. It felt like I was following in stories that I've heard about and making stories of my own.

As we've been walking along I've noticed lots of footprints in the mud and the grass beneath my feet, but we've never seen any other walkers, so that's confused me a lot. It feels like because of how fresh the footprints look, that we should be seeing people. So I have come to the conclusion that the footsteps that we see ahead of us are Grandad enjoying the walk along with us, and I'm sure that he's been watching us the whole, entire way.

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Daddy's Postscript:

Barnaby was quieter today. He's grown noticeably quieter day by day. And day by day I can see him stopping and noticing the world around him and enjoying its beauty. His mind is the busiest of busy places, and always has been, but on this walk it feels like its been slowing down, finding space.

I shared this theory with B as we walked along. He insisted that he'd only been quieter because he'd spent more time with his drinking tube in his mouth. I tried to counter that no, he'd had the drinking tube in his mouth from the very start of the walk and so really it was that he was slowing down a bit. "It's my mind!" he replied.

Indeed it is.

Grumpy Cows.

Leg Three - Jedburgh to Hawick.

Distance: 13.6 miles.

Time: 6 hours 43 minutes.

Wildlife: Pheasant, Grumpy Cows (that doesn't count - Daddy!).

Barnaby's Song of the Day: Sheriff Fatman - Carter USM.

Today we set off knowing that we had a big climb ahead of us. It started off as a short steep climb to a field of cattle. Now, I've got something to say about cows. I've always noticed that once a cow gets one look at you, it keeps its eyes fixed on you for as long as possible. What makes it worse is that they always have this grumpy expression that says, 'What you looking at?' This is something that I've noticed over and over on the walk, and every time I see a cow staring at me it makes me feel like it's me it's after (even though they probably do it to every unfortunate walker that comes past).

Today was a very dreich day. It was already bad enough with the steep climb out of Jedburgh, but what made it worse was that when we got to the top of that steep climb it started chucking it down and it continued to do that for the next several hours. This made it hard for even me to keep positive thoughts - the man that likes to sing 'Bring me Sunshine' in the pouring rain! After a day of walking in heavy and soft rain it was such a relief when we came to the hotel and were flooded with warmth.

Today I have learnt that walking in Scotland can have nice days and some really, really, really dreich days. But that still hasn't put me off from wanting to do lots more walks in Scotland, because I still have plans in my mind to do the West Highland Way, the Cowal Way, and Daddy's pilgrimage from Iona to Lindisfarne. Right now Daddy is carrying most of our luggage, but I wonder how long it will be before I'm the one carrying all the luggage.

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Daddy's Postscript:

Today it was Barnaby's turn to lead our prayers: Morning Prayer before we set off, Midday Prayer (well you can figure that one out), Afternoon Prayer at 3pm, Evening Prayer when we get into our room, and Night Prayer before bed. We were being soaked through as we prayed our Midday and Afternoon prayers!

Barnaby hasn't learnt to say prayers properly. As any good Anglican knows, there's a 'Prayer Voice', pitched somewhere between the speaking clock and James Alexander Gordon's intonation of the football results on a Saturday teatime. When Barnaby leads the prayers he reads the words like maybe, perhaps he means them, and maybe, perhaps they're meaningful. When he launches into the morning Psalm with: 

'O sing to the Lord a new song,

sing to the Lord all the earth.'

By God is the earth resounding to a new song, a song of joy, a song of life, a song that courses through Barnaby's veins. 

A Nightcap with Godfather Paul

Barnaby read his Godfather's response to this evening's blog and said, "His message is so beautiful."

Godson messaged Godfather to ask if it was okay to
share what he'd written, and Godfather said yes:

'Again beautifully crafted B. You have your father's gift for simple observation, expressed in evocative accessible language. I feel greatly blessed that you sang Praise to the Holiest, and twice.

'Those boots have carried your Granny and you on journeys of discovery in the context of family and friendship. Leaving them behind is not discarding them, but letting them go, as we have to let things go in order to carry on our journeying. But those people that have blessed us on the way remain a blessing. End of sermon (why am I so boring?? Fr Stuart - do not take the opportunity to answer that).

Love the image of holding hands, I suspect your Dad and I would have held hands if we weren't pretending to be so macho.'

Daddy still hasn't gone crazy... yet.

Second Leg - Kelso to Jedburgh.

Distance: 12.8 miles (29.6 miles total).

Time: 5 hours 56 minutes.

Wildlife: Pheasants, Grouse, Otter (no he didn't - Daddy), Heron, Rabbit, Dead Rabbit, Dead Pheasant.

Barnaby's Song of the Day: Bohemian Rhapsody.

Today we woke up knowing that we had to sadly let go of Granny's boots, which I have been wearing for many miles over the past year or so. They had to go because there were really big cuts through the leather and my feet were getting really, really, really soggy. Unfortunately, Daddy who had even put dubbin on the boots on Sunday night, hadn't even noticed the cuts! We went into town and got things for our picnic lunch and then on the way back to the hotel we stopped at an outdoor shop to get socks, hats, and some new boots. When we got back to the hotel we placed Granny's boots in front of the bin and said farewell.

As we set off, soon we joined the River Teviot, and very early on a heron landed on the path. So Daddy stopped and took some pictures and then we carried on. A few minutes later, the heron landed the same distance away from us on the path again. So Daddy stopped and took another picture. Then as we walked on we started to feel like the heron was stalking us, because again it landed in front of us about the same distance away. This time, surprisingly, Daddy didn't take a picture and started acting like he was quite annoyed with the heron. But that wasn't really a surprise, because he's always getting annoyed about something.

It's Day Two and I'm feeling really, really excited for what lies ahead. Even though the weather has been quite dreich, I still want to carry on to the end. And today we have carried on the tradition that Daddy and Godfather Paul started over ten years ago, that at the highest point of each day we stop and sing 'Praise to the Holiest'. I enjoyed the song so much that I decided to do it twice today and the second time was actually the highest point of the day (whereas the first one wasn't).

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Daddy's Postscript:

Whenever I find myself getting a bit tired on a walk, footsore and weary, there are a few trusted ways to put new energy into my old legs - some sips of water, bar of chocolate, and in extreme situations actually stop and put my rucksack down for five minutes. When Barnaby finds himself tiring he will say, "Can we hold hands?", or sometimes he just wanders alongside and slips his little hand into mine. Holding hands he finds new energy, so do I, the journey becomes better and so does life.

(I've had to assure him that at no point, ever, did Godfather Paul or Uncle Jimmy ever ask to hold my hand when we were walking together. He's begun to develop a strange fantasy that at some point along the West Highland Way, the three of us should have joined hands and skipped.)

First Leg - Route Catastrophe.

 

First Leg: Melrose to Kelso.

Distance: 16.8 miles.

Time: 7 hrs 12 mins.

Wildlife: Heron, Deer, Rabbits, Pheasants, Dead Pheasants, Dead Deer, Dead Rabbits.

Barnaby's Song of the Day: Rawhide.   

This morning I woke up to find that I had an achy tummy and knew that there was an eighteen mile leg ahead of me. We got dressed and went down for breakfast and I had a breakfast of sausage, bacon, toast and poached egg. By the end of it I was still feeling sick. We went upstairs, got packed, and decided that the best thing to do was to leave our bags at the Station Hotel in Melrose and walk down to the shops so that I could get a bit of fresh air. As we left the Co-op I was feeling much, much brighter. We walked back up to the hotel, packed our food for the day, and set off with Kelso in our mind.

    We set off and saw a sign for The Borders Abbeys Way. We followed a path for quite a while, until Daddy said, "Stop." He got out his map and said, "Oh no." He had realised that if we'd carried on in that direction, we'd have ended up in Selkirk, the opposite direction to Kelso! We went back and found a path that came off the path that we were already following, so Daddy checked his map to see if it would get us back on The Borders Abbeys Way. We discovered that although it was a longer route it was much nicer, as it went alongside the River Tweed. In my head I was thinking, 'Oh gosh, we've only just left and we've got lost, what could go wrong next?'

    When we stopped for lunch, Daddy looked at his map and saw that there was a bit more of countryside path walking and then it would go on to a road, however a very similar road could make the route a bit shorter even though it wasn't the actual Borders Abbeys Way. So as he walked on, Daddy told me very sternly to make sure that I should not tell Uncle Jimmy because he's often asking to find short cuts on walks but Daddy never says yes. So, he told me to make sure Uncle Jimmy never found out or he would never hear the end of it.

    We followed the shortcut to Kelso and we were so, so happy, although Daddy kept complaining about his achy, achy shoulders. Even though our day started and ended with aches and pains, everything in between was so fun and exciting, and it makes me definitely want to do this again.

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Daddy's Postscript:

I can't really better what Barnaby has written, but I thought I'd add one last reflection on the day. We've been sharing in the form of daily prayer that I put together for my 2010 pilgrimage, and which I'm very conscious that I first prayed with my Dad on Mull.

As I was rushing us out the room just now, for a quick pre-dinner G&T while we finished off this blog, Barnaby announced, "Weren't we going to say Evening Prayer before going for dinner?" We sat shoulder to shoulder on the edge of his bed and shared in prayer. He was right. Again.

Revd Evill and his successors.

So, Pilgrim's Cairn 2010 ended with a sermon and I'm going to do the same with Pilgrim's Cairn 2020 - my leaving sermon for All Saints, Edmonton.

(If there's a Pilgrim's Cairn 2030, here's hoping I get out of the house a bit more...)

Sunday by Sunday over the past twelve years, I’ve walked past a memorial to one of my predecessors, Revd Reginald Evill; many Sundays I’ve wondered about his life and felt a bit sorry for him. You see, Revd Evill’s time here was framed by crises; he became Vicar of All Saints in 1918, the year that the Great War ended, and he left in 1939, the year the Second World War began. In the intervening years he served this parish through the austerity of the Great Depression, and the rise of political extremism, including the rise of Nazism in Germany.

            I wonder if any of my successors will feel a similar spasm of pity for me! A few weeks after I came here in the summer of 2008, there was the global financial collapse which ushered in a decade of austerity; and I’d imagine that 2020 will be a year which sticks in our collective memory for generations to come, this year of separation, hardship and disease. It’s also the case that across those twelve years, just as in Revd Evill’s time, there’s been a resurgence in political extremism, especially on the far Right.

            We’re living through turbulent times, and we’ve been doing so for over a decade now.  What does the future hold? What’s going to happen next? There’s a great deal of uncertainty and fear even. We’re deeply aware of how unpredictable the future can be.

            And in our own little community of faith here at All Saints we face an unpredictable and uncertain future: I’ve heard the Vicar’s leaving, what next?

            From the moment that the Archangel Gabriel announces to Mary that she’s going to be a mother, through to the Resurrection itself, the message of the Gospel is consistent and clear, ‘Fear not’, ‘Do not be afraid.’ And in times of uncertainty, it’s especially important to hold that good news close to our hearts, and to proclaim it in our words and in our actions; that we stand against those who seek to spread fear, division, and the hatred that all too easily follows.

            And this morning’s Gospel gives us a reason to take heart, to be of good courage, to fear not. One of the things I love about the parable of the sower, is the wild generosity with which the sower sows. This is no normal farmer, who carefully prepares the soil and then just as carefully sows the seed; this sower just chucks the seeds out everywhere, on the shallow soil and the rocky places, on the good soil and amongst the weeds.

In this parable we find the promise that God’s love is not shed only on the people and places and times when it looks like it has a good chance of taking root and growing, This is the promise that God’s love goes out to every place, goes out to every person, goes out to every moment in history. There is no calculation in the outpouring of God’s love, only generosity and amazing grace.

            And you know, sometimes even the hard places can be fruitful. In one corner of the Vicarage garden there’s a lovely big fern; and I first found that beautiful fern growing in a bit of wall on the roof of the church. Who knows what gust had blown that tiny seed up there, or indeed what bird had dropped the seed, carefully packaged, down there – but that seed took root in hard stone, in a hard place, and it grew, and it grows still.

            What happens next? What does the future hold? I don’t know. But I know that because of the parable of the sower, and what that parable tells us about the outrageous generosity of God, we need not be afraid, we can step forwards in hope. Our calling as Christians is not so much to be sowers of the seed – God is doing that, God is always doing that. Our calling is to see where those seeds of God’s hope, joy and love fall, and where we see those signs of God’s presence, wherever we see those signs of God’s presence, to celebrate them, to nurture them and to help them to grow.

            I’ve seen those signs of hope and love many times over in Edmonton and I see them still; I pray that All Saints continues to be a place which helps those seeds to grow, and helps this community to flourish.