Lost in the timelessness of the hills – and then in translation
Last updated 15:56, Sunday, 27 April 2008
IT was one of these few perfect days in April.
Yes there have been a few of these, although you may have forgotten.
But we seem to have had better weather than in the south.
So we decided to pay another visit to that land beyond Copshaw Holm. Here the Forestry Commission have been creating large sporting facilities, in the form of widespread mountain biking routes and tracks and obstacles, all well marked and sign posted.
Bill visited the area quite recently and found there was much more being erected. And so we investigated.
According to the large scale O.S. Map (Pathfinder 520) there has been an absolute maze of stells, cottages, sheilings and even farms. But nearly all have been smothered by the ubiquitous spruce trees and other conifers.
We crossed the Liddel Bridge and headed up to Yethouse and on to Dykecrofts where I recalled that the Head Forester in the late 1940s was Bill Robertson an uncle of Tommy Robertson the Head Forester at Langholm.
We climbed the wee Swarf Hill.
I was aware that “Swarf” generally indicated waste filings or turnings or grit from a turning lathe – but what connection did it have with a small hillside in the middle of a forest?
As we walked along the wee hill we found ourselves in a large quarry, where the huge piles of broken rocks from the surrounding area had been sorted into vast heaps of regularly shaped and sized blocks, graded ready for road making.
Obviously this quarry has long been used as a source of road metal and has now come back into use.
Like most modern forests, the Newcastleton Forest has many main routes and an absolute maze of connecting rides, but eventually we reached what must have been the Tweeden Burn.
Soon a large cottage peeked out from amongst the tall trees.
The house was empty of any life and one roof gable had been stripped of slates.
Jimmy Abbot from Canonbie tells me that many years ago he drove a hearse these many miles to Tweedenhead to collect an unfortunate woman who had drowned in the burn.
We crossed the Tweeden burn and walked back down for a mile until we reached an area of strange-sounding names, such as Muckle Punder Cleuch, Cock Kaim and Thwartergill, all along the Kershope boundary between England and Scotland.
Then we heard a strange sound, but not a word could we understand. We turned a corner to see some forestry machines and a group of workers.
We tried to pass the time o’day but all their leader or spokesman would say was, “No nunerstan, wee slats”, which took some translation.
Eventually we found that they meant, “We don’t understand you because we are Latvian and do not speak English!”
A short distance further along the track, we came to a clearing near the Kershope. Right in the middle of the clearing stood a massive new stone sculpture about nine feet high.
But more striking was the fact that it was set in concrete with a drilled hole right through the middle of the granite stone, with regular carvings of Scots song Auld Lang Syne on the north face and English hymn Jerusalem on the south face.
The hole reminded me of a Handfasting stone, where two people could declare a marriage by clasping hands through a similar hole in a rock.
It remained a mystery until April 17, when the Eskdale & Liddesdale Advertiser presented me with the solution to my problem regarding the Stane in the Newcastleton Forest.
It is, of course, one of the Seven Stanes, as indicated on the Canonbie Bypass, and is part of the mountain Bike and Walking promotions at seven sites through Dumfries and Galloway and The Borders.
