Just for fun, here is something a wee bit different. As we know, AI is all around us whether we like it or not. I'm even learning to use it at work which is what's introduced me to it recently. Being a wee bit short of time for blogging of late, I had the idea of putting into an AI app my electronic journal notes from a recent trip bikepacking the Borders Abbeys Way. Below is what it sent back to me with my own photos of the trip added. I think it's written it quite well although it seems to have no qualms about over-dramatising things. As a one-off, it's interesting to see what it can do. You can let me know what you think. Now over to AI .....
Two Wheels, Two Feet, and a River: A Borderlands Escape
There’s something deeply restorative about a journey powered by legs and lungs, where the rhythm of wheels on tarmac gives way to the crunch of trail underfoot, and the landscape is not something to speed through, but to dwell in. This weekend adventure through the Scottish Borders was exactly that — a slow, satisfying meander through riverside paths, forest trails, and winding hill roads. Here's how it unfolded.
Sunday: From Melrose to the Middle of Nowhere
We began our day with a train to Tweedbank, arriving in time to enjoy a coffee outside in Melrose, where the quiet morning was anything but—buzzing with the energy of kids' football and rugby matches nearby.
From there, we cycled to Dryburgh, aiming for the abbey but finding it inaccessible this time. Still, the detour rewarded us with peaceful views: a quaint suspension bridge, a whimsical folly, and beautifully nestled homes that made the spot feel almost cinematic.
We pressed on toward Kelso, though one stretch of busy B-road was less than pleasant. Thankfully, the peace returned on quieter country lanes. A cemetery lunch stop at Makerstoun was unexpectedly scenic — not spooky, but serene — and we picked up a walking route that led us through woodlands and open fields, gradually easing us into Kelso.
Kelso greeted us with ice cream by the river, feet dangling over the edge, soaking in the late afternoon sun. With water bottles refilled, we joined a river path along the Teviot, which soon turned from charming to downright brutal — unrideable in parts, a proper bushwhack. By the time we hit Roxburgh, relief came in the form of an old railway line, offering smooth riding and stunning views toward Jedburgh.
Evening fell as we searched for a campsite. After passing multiple “no-go” spots, we finally found a secluded fishing hut in the trees, just above the river. We made supper and tea, bats flitting above, owls calling in the distance, and yes — huge piles of badger poo close by. A proper wild camp, just the way we like it.
Monday: Mist, Birds, and Brunch
We woke to a gorgeous mist draped across the river and fields. The sunrise turned everything gold, and as we ate breakfast propped against the fishing hut, the air was alive with birds: sand martins, herons, egrets, lapwings, even geese overhead.
Our route took us through Nisbet on tree-lined tracks bathed in morning light, then up a small hill road to Dere Street, descending an old Roman road to Jedburgh. There, we indulged in a well-earned brunch at Abbey Bridge Café — highly recommended if you’re ever in the area.
Fueled up, we climbed over the hills to Bedrule, picked up the walking path near Ruberslaw, and descended roughly to Denholm. From there, quiet back roads led to Hawick, where we lucked out with a stay at Riverside Caravan Park — a lovely, low-key site that welcomes tents from walkers and cyclists. That evening’s highlight? A surprise pizza van — and yes, even gluten-free. The roaming chickens were an added bonus, pecking around the tents like tiny, curious guards.
Tuesday: Into the Wilds and Back Again
Tuesday greeted us with a stiff climb out of Hawick, legs burning but views stretching far over rolling countryside. The tarmac soon disappeared, replaced by a grassy trail over Drinkstone Hill, then a rough forest path down to Ashkirk.
Back roads guided us gently uphill again, where we paused for a picnic lunch at the top of a pass. The weather had shifted — the warm pastures behind us, and in front, a cooler, wilder moorland.
Our final stretch was pure joy: a fast descent through forest tracks, along field edges and farm lanes, until we arrived in Selkirk, just beside the grand estate of The Haining. Coffee and cake were essential here, a sweet finish before coasting down the cycle route back to Tweedbank, and hopping on the return train home.
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