Part One

Monday March 20th, this year. 2.50pm. My wife, Martha, and I catch the train heading south. In our case, 'south' means Edinburgh and the Scottish Borders.

There is a reason for going right now. It's the last chance before much of Scotland becomes too expensive for us to stay there. Until November, most likely.

Things weren't always that way. Even eight years ago, great bargains could be found all year round, high season of June to August excluded. But all has changed in recent times, in the Highlands of Scotland especially. Windswept beaches, rain-sodden peat bogs, cloud-covered mountain tops, and midges in your sandwiches, are the new chic. Everyone wants in on the experience.

Edinburgh is as Edinburgh is. Actually, our vaguely-planned walk beside a little river gets hijacked by the enormous works taking place north of the city centre, extending the city's tram system out to Leith and the shopping paradise of Ocean Terminal. Instead we walk out to the coast along streets that wish to be busy, but are almost deserted apart from bulldozers and miscellaneous other tramway-constructing machinery.

There are plenty of nice, interesting shops, small independent places, the type that are the scourge of globalist mentality, and which convid was aimed to obliterate. 'Cash is king' proclaims the sign outside the tiny shop selling kohlrabi and yellow-orange beetroots. I like it: my place of residence, Inverness, is a total retail dump, devoid of examples of individual initiative. Its High Street is correspondingly the location of choice for anybody wishing to generate depressed, suicidal states of consciousness. 

And then on southwards, to the Scottish Borders, to Peebles. The Borders remain relatively little-known and little visited. Most visitors from the south - and most visitors come from the south...! - rush past, en route to apparently more exciting locations: Edinburgh, Stirling Castle, the Cairngorm mountains, Skye, and the rest. The Border Country, with its lush river valleys, rounded hills and moorlands, and small towns like Peebles dotted around, has an almost forgotten quality about it.

While the history of Scotland in general is overwhelmingly vicious, cruel, and brutal, this is probably especially so for the Borders. 'A troubled past' is a euphemism for rape, pillage, and plunder, at times between rival tribes and groups of Scottish origin; and at times between the constantly warring factions of Scotland and England. For the latter, the Borders are logically right in the firing line.

As we strolled through Peebles in the early afternoon, it seemed to manifest little evidence of this turbulent past. On the contrary, it exudes a calm amidst an unmistakeable liveliness; confidence and an unpretentious air of well-being seem to infuse the air. 

As I got to know the town a little bit, a few things became apparent. In comparison with Inverness, where I live, it has a number of things going for it. Despite being far smaller, Peebles is far more interesting in terms of shops. There is far more diversity, and there are things like two excellent independent bakers. This is double the number to be found in Inverness which, as already described, offers in general an exceptionally depressing retail experience, consisting largely of phone repair shops and Poundland lookalikes. The other great thing about Peebles is its excellent bus service to Edinburgh. Frequent, reliable, and on time. In contrast, bus services in Inverness are frequently late or don't turn up at all. Using the bus is a poor man's Russian roulette in the capital of the Highlands. I know, and bear the scars... 

Part Two   

There were two main reasons for visiting the small town of Peebles. Firstly, curiosity: I had never been to this part of Scotland before. Secondly, the Belinus ley line passes straight through. This ley line extends at least from the Faroe Islands to the Mediterranean island of Majorca - it probably encircles the entire world, I don't know - but in the British Isles it forms a line from the Isle of Wight to Durness on the north coast of Scotland, passing through many places of historical significance en route. My intention is to visit and walk some parts of the line, hopefully infusing it with higher frequency (good vibes, man) and thereby assisting in raising the level of life on the planet.

According to 'The Spine of Albion' the female current of the line enters the environs of the town from the west, alongside the River Tweed. We walked this lovely stretch of river, at first through parkland until it takes a sudden turn, and enters wilder countryside. Above us we spied the dark eminence of Neidpath Castle and sat for a while before returning to the town.

The following morning I wanted to find the place where, according to the authors, the female and male currents intersect, and where the energy of the ley will be correspondingly most powerful: the Node Point. 

There is a little sign near the bridge over the river pointing to Cross Kirk. It is a little-known site, and our search took us into unlikely terrain for an ancient monument. Up a long and quiet side street lined with traditional but modest stone dwelling places we slipped quietly, before unexpectedly a right turn led us directly to the ruins themselves.

We had the place to ourselves as we silently explored. Once a thriving priory which expanded into a fully-fledged monastery, it has been left to fall to pieces, with only the remains of the church extant. The foundations of a once much larger building are clear in the ground. Now most of the area is given to grass, and the trees surrounding it impart a quality of protection, seclusion.

The authors' dowsing indicates that the precise location of the Node, the crossing point of female and male currents, is in a sealed chapel just off the grass beside the chapel. The little green adjacent is one of those spots where you can feel the presence of non-physical energies. There is a sombre flavour to the energy here, most likely related to the brutal events that have taken place on the line hereabouts over the ages. We stood for a while, doing what we do to infuse the currents with higher frequency, 'positive' energy. And then it was time to move on.

Next up was the male current. This enters Peebles from the south, over a prominent hill called Cademuir Hill. The energy of Belinus, the male current, has not fared well. Writing of Cross Kirk, the authors relate: "Having entered from the south east, the energy of Belinus seemed surprisingly faint and out of balance." And again: "For some reason Belinus has recovered less well from these dramatic events than Elen (the female current), no doubt her flow benefitting from the nourishing chi of the Tweed River...." "Certain sites on the Belinus current succumbed to wanton destruction and desecration....."

We walked along quiet, well-tended streets in the south of the town, until we hit open countryside and began climbing the hillpath which corresponds to the line of the male current. It is moorland reminiscent of Yorkshire or parts of mid-Wales rather than the Highlands of Scotland. But soon wide vistas opened up, and a sense of solitude and spaciousness took over. I like this kind of place. 

The route follows the John Buchan Way, a fairly short trail named in honour of the the writer who derived much inspiration from these parts, apparently. I say 'apparently' because I know nothing about him really. 

And when we had reached as far as we wished to go, we sat down for picnic lunch.  And then headed back the way we came. And eventually home, arriving late in the evening....

Note 1: All quotations are from' The Spine of Albion' by Gary Biltcliffe and Caroline Hoare.

Note 2: The naming is a possible source of confusion, since 'Belinus' is used to refer both to the ley line itself and to the male current of the line. It would be clearer if the male current was called Bill or Eric. I have tried to make it clear which is being referred to at any given time.