Kirk Yetholm to Aberfeldy The Adventure Show

Despite being able to boast some of the finest walking routes

in the world, Scotland's never had a long distance trail

that starts at one end of the country and finishes at the other.

But it has now.

The Scottish National Trail begins in Kirk Yetholm,

amongst the lovely, rolling hills of the borders

and works its way through the country to finish at Cape Wrath,

the most northwesterly point on the British mainland.

In between, the route visits both our National Parks,

our capital city of Edinburgh and passes through

some of the finest landscapes you'll find anywhere.

So, why don't you join me as I walk Scotland end to end?

For thousands of long distance walkers,

the Border Hotel in Kirk Yetholm represents the end point

of what has been a long and often gruelling journey

up the spine of England from Edale in the Peak District.

But I'm not heading for the Pennine Way.

I've spent the last two and a half years

working on Scotland's first national trail, all 470 miles of it.

It's been a labour of love and I hope those who follow me

will enjoy every step of the way.

Not every long distance trail has that sense of sheer pleasure.

And I can prove that to you.

Here in Kirk Yetholm,

there's arguably Britain's most unusual graveyard.

This is the Valley Dene Garden Of Rest for Pennine Way boots.

Are these boots that people have abandoned

because they're fed up wearing them?

They're rejected boots, so they're boots that need a new home.

So, like all my other waifs and strays, I take in old boots.

So what's the oldest pair you've got here?

It's that pair there. They must be about 40 years old.

They've obviously been good because they've stood the test of time.

People say to me, "Oh, you don't want these dirty..."

"Paint the stones white!"

And I say, "No."

And they'll say, "Oh, paint the boots, make them look smart."

But that's not walkers' boots.

This is a walker boot garden.

For someone who's been a walker for the best part of 45 years,

I'm delighted there's somewhere my boots can go and rest in peace.

There's a man who came through a couple of years back

and he'd had his boots for 25 years.

-My goodness!

-And he'd had them re-stitched, re-soled, re-lined.

But when he got home he rang me up and he said,

"It's no good, I've got to get rid of them."

He said, "But I can't put them in the bin."

"When I come up your way next, will you give them a good home?"

And I think it was at that point that I realised

how seriously attached to boots walkers can become.

'There's no doubt that's how I'll feel at the end of the journey.

'And what a journey it's going to be,

'one through a constantly-changing landscape

'that inspires a whole range of people.

'The Scottish National Trail gets off to a great start.

'These border hills are full of surprises.

'They lead unerringly north to that bigger range south of Edinburgh,

'the Pentlands.'

It was Robert Louis Stevenson who talked about the hills of home.

And that's very much how I feel the Pentlands are to me.

Then the route takes us through the central belt,

where rivers and canals provide an oasis of calm

amongst Scotland's industrial heartland.

The Water of Leith had over 70 mill sites on it,

from Balerno to Bonnington, which is just 12 miles of river.

And it was also Edinburgh's main sewer.

But not any longer. Today it's teeming with wildlife.

The Scottish National Trail then makes its way through

the central Highlands, before heading to the Cairngorms

and on out to the magical west.

The second day in charge of Beinn Eighe National Nature Reserve,

I went up there and I never felt such humility.

Going along the ridge there, this beautiful ridge,

and looking down, looking it along and thinking,

"Hey, Dick, you've got something to do with this place now

"and you're responsible."

And the last part is a fitting finale, from Kintail

to the furthest northwest point of the British mainland - Cape Wrath.

The total distance is 470 miles but how you walk it is up to you.

It can be done in one long expedition or you can split it up

into a number of short walks

that will keep you occupied for years to come.

So, let's get started.

Welcome to the Scottish National Trail,

one of the great long distance walks of the world.

'Accompanying me is a small team.

'There's our director and then there's our specialist cameraman,

'someone who, coincidentally, comes from a small community

'right at the start of the walk.

'In the 10 years that I've known him he's never failed to tell me

'what a fantastic place this is.'

I've often heard it said that you can take the man out of the Borders,

but you cannae really take the Borders out the man.

and I've got living proof of that with me.

Dominic, can you and I change position just for a wee minute?

Leave your camera just for a minute and you come round here.

Right, that's it. Keep it going.

I've always wanted to do this.

Now, Dom, where were you born, Dominic?

Where was I born? I was born at Grubbet,

which is just along the road towards Morebattle.

So, is there any truth in that saying,

that you can't really take the Borders out of the man?

I absolutely think there is. You know, I've been away for a while,

but I still feel like I'm from here. When I come back here, it's home.

What was it like being brought up here and going to school here?

It's one of those things,

you appreciate it more now that I've left and I come back.

I didn't realise what was around me and all that kind of thing

and the lifestyle I had.

But it was a beautiful place to grow up and a fabulous life.

Good! Well, you've have the limelight now.

-Yes, thanks very much.

-Come back and do your job.

Now, you might have noticed there's snow on the ground.

My start's been just a wee bit delayed because,

from a nice, balmy spring morning, it's started snowing.

You just can't tell what it's going to be like in Scotland.

But I think that's going to add to the kind of atmosphere

of this fabulous landscape.

So now we're going to climb, get a wee bit of height,

and hopefully get some great views of the Borderland hills.

The first couple of days of the Scottish National Trail

follow the course of St Cuthbert's Way,

which actually starts in Lindisfarne in Northumberland

and runs up to Melrose.

Cuthbert was a 7th century priest who eventually became

Prior of the Celtic Monastery at Melrose.

And, since he and I are going roughly the same direction,

it seemed a wee bit churlish not just to follow in his footsteps.

'There's something very special

'about being the first person on a hill

'when there's fresh snow on the ground

'and you're making tracks over a pristine landscape.'

'And that suits me just fine.

'I'm very happy to leave civilisation behind.

'I can't think of anything I'd rather be doing

'than heading up this lovely hill on such a beautiful, pristine day.'

When you get up here you realise why they called this Wideopen Hill.

It's only 1207 feet above sea level

but the views are absolutely extraordinary.

Ranged right across the south here are the lovely Cheviots

that form this frontier barrier between Scotland and Englandshire.

And, when I look north, I'm afraid I just have to take a deep gulp

because I realise there's still an awful lot of Scotland

between me and Cape Wrath, so I think I'd better keep going.

'In devising this new national trail,

'I wanted to explore the country of my birth

'in all its richness and variety.

'And it's not just the landscape that inspires me,

'it's the people who live and work here.

'In the Borders, farming has always been the lifeblood

'of many small communities, and that still holds true today.'

Ah, just the love of it, I think, really, from a young age.

I'd rather have been here than at school, to be honest.

And some days I probably was at home too many days.

But it's always been something that I've wanted to do

and been lucky enough to have the opportunity to do it.

It seems to me, Willie, that agriculture kind of defines

the landscape of the Borders. Would that be a correct assumption?

Aye, I would say so. Yes, aye.

It's a tremendous area, certainly for livestock up in these hills.

So, it's sheep and cattle you've got on this farm?

Pretty much all sheep and cattle, yes.

It's a pretty steep run, all hill ground, basically.

-Is it a satisfying lifestyle?

-Very!

I think you hit the nail on the head. It's a lifestyle rather than a job.

It's, you know, it's a way of life.

Not everybody's wanting to work seven days a week

or slitter about at midnight, if they have to,

calving cows or lambing ewes or things like that.

But if that's what you want to do and you like doing it, fair enough.

It's certainly something that I enjoy.

I've never lived anywhere else in my life, really.

To be perfectly honest, I wouldn't want to.

Certainly when you travel round Britain, I've never seen anywhere

in this country that I would rather stay than the Borders.

There's a great sense of community in these valleys,

and it's just a great place to live.

I've just wandered through the village of Morebattle,

and you can see in front of me here

the gaunt remains of Cessford Castle.

And both places, I think, give an indication

of the turbulent nature of former times.

When you look at this building you realise it was built for one thing

and one thing only - as a fortification.

It could withstand attack, it could withstand week-long

and even month-long sieges during a 500 period

that has gone down in history as The Troubled Times.

There's probably no other region that can claim

such a protracted period of violence and unrest,

where reiving - basically stealing from the neighbours -

became a way of life.

One local man who has made a study of the history and archaeology

of this area is Walter Elliot.

For years he worked as a fencer and built up his knowledge

from personal observation.

And, with a good Borders name like Elliot,

he's got a particular interest in his ancestors.

My family were most definitely reivers.

We were rogues and ruffians and all the rest of it.

But we were survivors, because we needed to be rogues and ruffians

to survive in the part of the Borders that the family were in,

which was Liddesdale.

Were they really troubled times? And, if they were, why?

Yes, they were very much troubled times.

Because at the tops of the valleys the land is very poor.

To survive you had to do something else.

So your extra thing was go out and pinch somebody else's cattle.

You weren't really Scottish or English, you were a Borderer.

You owed allegiance to your family name,

possibly to the people who were in cahoots with you,

but you looked after yourself.

Well, we talk about that period being The Troubled Times

but, of course, there were troubled times in this part of the world

long before that. There was the Roman invasion wasn't there?

In Roman times, the Roman Dere Street, which you'll be walking...

I'm walking that tomorrow, aye.

Dere Street wasn't only a road, it was a fortified frontier.

You've got Hadrian's Wall that way, Antonine Wall that way.

But Dere Street goes that way, and I'm finding, along Dere Street,

I'm getting little 20 x 20 metre fortlets.

So this is a fresh border, a new border.

This track that I'm walking on once resounded

to the sounds of Roman centurions and soldiers

making their way to their northern frontier in Scotland.

The road was once known as Agricola's Road,

and then for a while became known as Watling Street.

And today it's known as Dere Street, and it begins down in York

and takes an almost arrow-straight road, all the way up over

the Scottish border to the end of Antonine's Wall in the central belt.

800 years ago, the monks of Melrose Abbey

built a large cross here

and it was known as the Lilliot Cross.

And apparently nobles from both the Scottish and the English side

would come here and try and resolve disputes

without resorting to fighting.

But in the middle of the 16th century there was a big fight here.

It was known as The Battle of Ancrum Moor and the Scots won

against an apparently much larger English force.

And much of that success was apparently put down to a young woman

known as the Maiden Lylliard. And this is apparently her tomb.

I love the headstone here.

There's a wee poem on it and it says,

"Fair Maiden Lylliard lies under this stane.

"Little was her stature but muckle was her fame.

"Upon the English louns she laid mony thumps.

"And when her legs were cut aff, she fought upon her stumps."

I think that's pretty good.

The truth of the matter is this area was known as Lilliard's Edge

300 years before The Battle of Ancrum,

which just shows you should never let the truth

get in the way of a good story.

As someone who's admittedly a bit prejudiced towards walking

in the Scottish Highlands, I have to say I've been absolutely delighted

at the sheer variety of landscape in the walk so far in the Borders.

Coming up through these beautiful natural woodlands this morning,

that have brought me up into this high point in the very heart

of this wee group of hills called the Eildons.

The triple-top Eildons have become something of a Borders icon,

and they were created by volcanic activity.

Now, if you can imagine great sheets of lava flow intruding with

the underlying sandstone and, over millions of years, the weathering

of rain and frost and wind creating these three distinct summits.

But, you know, I'm something of an old romantic

and I think I probably prefer the story of Michael Scott The Wizard

who was ordered by the Devil himself

to create three mountains out of one.

And he did that using his supernatural powers.

Now the only thing I don't like about that particular story

is the name - Michael Scott the Wizard.

Who's ever heard of a wizard called Michael Scott?

Why couldn't he have been a Gandalf or a Merlin or something like that?

And no offence to anybody watching called Michael Scott

but it is more of a name you'd associate with an accountant

or even a banker.

I'm actually quite relieved to have survived a visit to the Eildons

because, in the 13th century,

a local bard by the name of Thomas the Rhymer was spirited away

by the Queen of the Fairies herself to Elfland.

And Elfland apparently lies below these very hills.

And he was kept there for seven years before he managed to escape

and tell his story.

I've got to be quite careful what I say, I don't mind offending bankers

but I certainly don't want to offend the little people.

It's now an easy descent to the market town of Melrose

and I've over 30 miles under my belt.

A lot of long distance walking trails actually avoid

centres of population, but the Scottish National Trail

positively embraces them.

And why not? You can come in here and have a cup of tea or coffee,

something to eat, or just enjoy the attractions

of a little town like this one.

The ruins of Melrose Abbey.

It's one of four big abbeys in this part of the Borders.

The others are at Kelso, Jedburgh and Dryburgh.

And, I have to say, this is really impressive.

I left St Cuthbert and his way behind this morning in Melrose

and since then I've been following the route

of the Southern Upland Way which comes through Galashiels,

over the hills to Yair and then up through this Yair Forest,

onto the high ground that leads to the Three Brethren

and the historic Minch Moor.

It's fantastic to get up high. You know, it always amazes me,

the people who say you have to go to the Scottish Highlands

to get really extensive views. Well, this is pretty good, I think.

You can see where I've come from, beyond the three Eildons

and away down to the snow-covered hills of the Cheviots.

And if that's not extensive, I don't know what is.

These three beautiful cairns are known as the Three Brethren,

and each of them stands within the former boroughs

of Selkirk, Yair and Bowhill.

And every year, during the Selkirk Common Riding,

the riders will ride their horses round the marches of the old borough

and they'll bring their horses right up here to this high point.

It's a fantastic spectacle, well worth seeing.

This high-level path continues for some distance over the little hill

called Broomy Law and then onto the distant Minch Moor,

and it really is a path of some antiquity.

In 1296, Edward I brought his army over here

when he was travelling north to conquer Scotland.

And some years later, James Graham, the Marquis of Montrose,

brought his army up here after the Battle of Philiphaugh.

And more recently, in 1931,

officials of the Scottish Youth Hostels Association

came in the opposite direction.

They came from Traquair and down to Broadmeadows,

where they opened Scotland's very first youth hostel.

So I guess, with St Cuthbert and the Romans, you'll forgive me

for thinking that I'm really walking with the ghosts of yesteryear.

'One of the big surprises in planning this national trail

'was the network of paths that wind through the Borders

'and show off this landscape at its very best.

'My route takes me through tranquil forests to Cardrona

'and then along the north bank of the River Tweed,

'all the way into another fine town, Peebles.'

The Scotch novelist Nigel Tranter once described Peebles

as the dous matron of the Scottish Borders.

I think I know what he meant but I actually quite like the place,

standing as it does right on the banks of the River Tweed.

Unfortunately, I'm not going to have a great deal of time to enjoy

the matronly pleasures of the town because there's a wee range of hills

on the other side of Peebles and I want to get across them tonight.

Before I began planning this walk I had absolutely no idea

there was a little range of hills called the Meldons.

I'd never heard of them but here they are.

They lie just north of Peebles and I'm going over this high pass

with White Meldon on my right and I'm going to drop down

into the Meldon Valley and then walk up the valley

with Black Meldon on one side and White Meldon on the other side.

From there I'm going over another rise of ground, towards West Linton,

on the very edge of Edinburgh's own hills, the Pentlands.

People have lived and farmed in this valley for 5,000 years and all round

there are remains of their former existence in the shape of tumuli

and earth works, standing stones, Bronze Age and Iron Age forts.

But today there's very little population

and the only sounds you're likely to hear are the call of sheep

or perhaps the odd curlew.

'From the high ground it's down to the village of West Linton,

'under 20 miles south of Edinburgh.

'But losing height hasn't meant better weather.'

I generally try and steer clear of tarmac roads,

but tarmac roads lead into villages

and that's where I get my wee treats.

Hi, there, what can I get you?

-Hello, can I have a cappuccino, please?

-You can.

And have you got a bit of fruit cake, like a fly cemetery?

-I'll get that for you.

-OK, thanks.

Oh, brilliant, that looks good. Thank you very much. Good.

Have you got a wee minute to sit down and have a wee blether?

You know one of the things about doing a long distance walk

like I'm doing is when you find a cafe like this,

it's like finding treasure.

-Oh, well, I hope you enjoy.

-Oh, I'm sure I will.

I'm sure I will. Do you get many walkers or cyclists coming in?

I get a lot. I get a lot coming out from Edinburgh, cycling.

And I've had about five or six doing Land's End to John O'Groats.

I didn't realise we were on the route,

-but I believe we are.

-I bet they ate a lot?

-Yes, they did.

And dry out their washing, it was a dry day.

Tell me a wee bit about the building here, the toll house.

I mean, what was it a toll for?

It was the cattle, sheep and livestock

-coming in and out of the Borders.

-Oh, really, like a drover's road?

Yes, and you paid to bring your livestock into the Borders.

And I believe the toll window is what's now the ladies toilet window.

Different markets today from sheep and cattle

and whatnot to all sorts of people, I imagine?

All sorts of people, all types and from all over the world.

-I've had people from Thailand, Australia, New Zealand.

-Oh, right.

It's amazing how many people just come through here.

Well, listen, this is absolutely fantastic.

So lang may ye continue to feed hungry walkers like me.

-Thank you very much.

-It looks great.

'Now it's time to head into the Pentland Hills

'and I've got a companion.

'For many years Rab Anderson was one of Scotland's leading climbers,

'but he's also a keen walker.

'He's been exploring these hills since he was a wee lad,

'and has recently put that knowledge into a new guide book.

'He's a man who knows his geology

'and the forces that form this landscape.'

This is the Windygoul sub-glacial meltwater channel.

Apparently it's not just a meltwater channel from a receding glacier,

from what I understand

the glacier was apparently active while this was carved out.

And these aren't drumlins or moraines, these are rock islands.

So what the glacier has done, as it has carved,

it has actually gone round these and these have been left.

They've not been deposited.

It's what's called anastomosing patterns,

where like veins sort of in your leg, sort of break up

or branch off and re-join again, and it's created this here.

That's all very interesting but this bull's got quite an interest,

so I think it's a good idea for us to get the other side of the fence.

-I think so, too.

-Yeah, here he comes.

Oh, come on. Let's get out of here.

Rab, when I first met you, and we must be talking about,

I don't know, 30, 35 years ago or something,

you were at the very sharp end of Scottish mountaineering.

What's changed, now you're writing rambling guides to the Pentlands?

Thanks, Cameron(!)

I'd like to think I'm still fairly active in rock climbing terms.

I guess what's changed is I've got older, I've become a bit more mature

in what I want to go and do and other things.

My focus isn't just primarily rock climbing as it used to be.

It was a very narrow focus.

Now, I'm keen to get out on the hills and do things, explore.

I'm keen to complete my Munros. I've only got one left to do.

It's good fun, you know?

I'm really enjoying getting out and doing these things,

and it's opened my eyes to the landscape and what's there as well.

You're all over the country on the various walks you do,

but obviously the Pentlands have a special significance for you.

They do. As a boy, I grew up in the Pentlands

and I used to walk and play in the Pentlands.

And then, as I got into climbing

we used to go and walk and get fit and do things.

In fact, one of my first climbing experiences was in the Pentlands.

We went with Cubby, who was a mountain guide and a famous climber,

and Dave Brown, we went out there with washing lines and claw hammers.

And we did our first winter route on Caerketton.

Rab, we're walking past this reservoir,

but was this ever a natural loch at any time?

No, no, this is North Esk Reservoir.

It's probably the smallest of the Pentland reservoirs

and it was constructed in 1850 or thereabouts to provide water

for paper mills on the North Esk.

I think there were about nine paper mills on the North Esk.

The last one closed in about 2004.

It's quite interesting to have the Pentlands here,

so close to Edinburgh and you get this feeling of kind of

wildness and remoteness when you're in here.

If you look closely you see man's influence on the hills around us

but also evidence of these hills going back, you know,

not just thousands of years but several million years.

Oh, this goes back a long time.

I mean, the geology and the landscape round here is fascinating,

particularly this area because some of the oldest rocks

in the whole of the Edinburgh area are actually exposed.

Because this was a 420-million-year-old landscape.

So people coming for a wee walk from Edinburgh into the Pentlands

are going to be walking on some of the oldest rocks on earth?

Absolutely!

I mean, it's fascinating to know what has gone on beneath your feet

when you're actually out walking.

So in the context of Scotland and your passion for Scotland,

where does the Pentlands fit into that?

The Pentlands, to me, are very important.

As Robert Louis Stevenson talked about,

he talked about the hills of home,

and that's very much how I feel the Pentlands are to me.

I don't know if you've noticed, Cameron,

this is us moving from the shales through to the old red sandstone.

-Oh, right! Indeed, you can actually see it underneath your feet.

-Yeah.

You can see the difference.

So where does this sandstone come from, why is it different?

Well it's sedimentary sandstone.

It was laid down hundreds of millions of years ago when this,

from my understanding of the geology with this area,

this was an offshore barrier and lagoon system,

leading on over by the Bore Stone,

into a desert shoreline, because it was a tropical climate back then.

You need a good imagination to walk in the Pentlands, don't you?

Well, you certainly do to imagine, on a day like today,

that this was a tropical shoreline.

-Ah, we've got a view.

-That's grand, isn't it?

-Aye.

I don't see many prehistoric lagoons, though.

No, I think you have to imagine a little bit harder, Cameron.

This is great, getting up to this point in the Pentlands,

and actually seeing my route away ahead of me.

Actually, you can see that's Corstorphine Hill over there.

You're right, it is. And if you can see Corstorphine Hill,

you should be able to see the Forth Road Bridge.

Just through here you can see the three humps of the railway bridge.

Ah, that's amazing.

Right, Rab, I'll leave you to the loneliness of the Pentlands.

-Nice to see you.

-I'm heading for Balerno

and a night in Edinburgh town.

-Good stuff. See you next time.

-OK, thanks, Rab. Bye.

Well, it's all downhill now,

into one of the most populated parts of Scotland.

But, by the route I'm taking, you'd never know it.

My route takes me along the Water of Leith - a river that flows

from the Pentlands, all the way through the city of Edinburgh.

In recent years, the Water of Leith Conservation Trust have been

instrumental in safeguarding it and opening it up to walkers.

But this was once Edinburgh's industrial heartland.

Today it's a tranquil space in the middle of an urban environment.

You've got to imagine the Water of Leith as a string of mills

set out along the city, providing paper and grain.

And obviously the millers had to get to work

so there was always footpaths along sections.

In the 1980s, the Balerno branch railway line

was converted into a section of walkways

so that created a long section and various other sections were added.

But it had a real boost in 2000 with the Millennium Lottery funding which

completed all the links in the chain so you can now walk from Balerno,

all the way to Leith, continuously following the course of the river.

Is there any other river like this in any other city in Britain?

Not that I've heard of.

I mean, if you think of rivers ain capital cities, you know,

the Thames in London and the Seine in Paris, the Liffey in Dublin,

they're massive rivers going right through the heart of the city.

The Water of Leith kind of creeps around the side

and it's almost like this green ribbon flowing through the city

that really brings the countryside right into the town centre.

Now, in the days of all the mills,

this would've been an industrial river, I suppose?

It was very much an industrial river.

The Water of Leith had over 70 mill sites on it,

from Balerno to Bonnington, which is just 12 miles of river.

And it was also Edinburgh's main sewer.

So you've got to imagine you've got the effluent from mills,

you've got tanneries, you've got distilleries, you've got breweries,

you've got chemical factories and you've also got the sewage

coming out from the whole of the old town into the Water of Leith.

It was a pretty rancid place in the past.

So, how on earth do you clean a river like this?

Well, it's taken decades, absolutely decades.

The enclosures of the sewage network obviously solved the sewage issue.

Today, the problems that the river has is with litter and rubbish,

and that's where us as an organisation comes in.

And we organise about 50 river clean-ups a year

to keep this ribbon of green looking clean, green and beautiful.

Give me an idea what wildlife you see on the Water of Leith walkway.

I think birdlife is always the most special thing

when it comes to a river.

Just last week I was sitting down at Bell's Mill having a picnic

and we got to watch the kingfisher for 20 minutes,

a pair of them, in and out of the water, feeding, preening.

Even picking bugs off logs, it was absolutely amazing.

And, of course, they are just the most stunning bird.

You're obviously enthusiastic about rivers.

What is it about rivers that excites you?

I grew up next to a river and I just played in it as a child.

I loved it when it flooded, I loved it when it was a tiny little stream.

I studied geography at university, I learnt the mechanics of rivers.

My first job was at the Falls of Clyde.

And now I'm looking after, for my work,

one of Scotland's best rivers, in my opinion.

So I think it's just the combination of unpredictability with a river.

It can rain heavily for three days and we'd be up to our necks here.

You've said you look after the river.

How much does the river actually own you?

How much does the river own me?

Well, it's yen years in the same job so I think I'm fairly hooked.

I've left Helen now

and I'm on my own again for this last leg of the first section

of this long walk of mine - the section between Kirk Yetholm

in the Borders and Edinburgh.

Now, I was born and brought up in Glasgow but I've always had

something of a soft spot for our capital city and that's

largely because it's a sort of outdoor-person city - it's got an

extinct volcano right in the middle of it and with Salisbury Crags

and Arthur's Seat and the view from the summit out over the wide expanse

of the Firth of Forth, it just makes it phenomenal. And you know you

can't really have a Scottish National Trail

and not visit its capital city.

However much I love Auld Reekie, it's great to get away from

the hustle and bustle of the city, and for the next two days

I'm going to be following a green artery, that remarkably runs its way

right through the industrial heartland of central Scotland.

I've been really looking forward to this section of the walk,

because it gives me a chance to really relax. I don't have to

worry about navigation, I don't have to worry about finding

the next signpost to follow, I don't even have to worry about climbing

hills because there aren't any.

This Union Canal follows the 240 foot contour

all the way from the heart of Edinburgh, right through to Falkirk,

and because of that it's become very, very popular amongst walkers,

amongst cyclists, amongst runners,

and it's just a fantastic recreational opportunity,

here in the very heart of Scotland's central belt.

The canals are a great place for watching wildlife

and, as you walk along, you're never short of company.

Hello.

The canals were built at the end of the 19th century,

primarily as a way of transporting coal from one side

of the country to another, but they fell into disrepair in the 1930s,

really thanks to the growing network

of road and rail in central Scotland.

By the Millennium, British Waterways Scotland had the great

idea of reviving the canals, largely for recreational use,

but they had one major problem - the 11 locks that originally

linked the end of the Forth and Clyde Canal with the Union Canal had

been destroyed - they had been filled in in the 1930s - so they

had to find a new way of lifting the boats up 35 metres from

one canal to the other, when someone had the completely innovative

idea of creating the world's very first revolving boatlift.

Please don't ask me about the intricate engineering

of how the Falkirk Wheel actually works because it's way beyond

my ken, but suffice to know that there's a very clever system of cogs

and wheels and balances that can lift a boat from the holding bay at

the bottom, up for 35 metres to the start of the canal.

It's phenomenal!

And what a fantastic showcase for the finest in Scottish engineering.

I've now got about 140 miles under my feet.

Ahead is the increasingly wild landscape of the Trossachs,

and the communities of Aberfoyle, Callander and Creiff,

then it's Aberfeldy,

the halfway point of the 470-mile Scottish National Trail.

This is a good spot just for a wee break for a minute.

It's been a long...it's been a long day.

I left the canals at one of Glasgow's suburbs called Cadder,

made my way up through Balmore to Milngavie

at the southern end of the West Highland Way.

The West Highland Way was created about, oh, some 30 years

ago, by the Countryside Commission for Scotland and at that time

I don't think anybody had the slightest notion

it'd be half as popular as it's become,

with thousands of people walking and enjoying it

every year and I sincerely hope, in fact I believe,

that the Scottish National Trail in all its various parts,

will become just as popular.

This little track has always been known as Tinker's Loan,

or Tinker's Lane, and it's a name that I love with its suggestion

of the travelling people and the freedom of the open road.

Wow, this is fantastic! And this is what I've been waiting for.

Tinker's Loan brings you over this little rise and then suddenly

this expanse appears before you, and you get this feeling that

you've entered the Highlands, at last.

You actually haven't - the Highland line is still a dozen miles away

but when you see the Cobbler and Ben Lomond and Dumgoyne,

and the big swell of the Campsies, you really feel

as though you're in Highland hills.

We've come through some fantastic landscapes

and this is a nice taster for what's still to come.

Robert Burns once said, "My heart's in the Highlands,"

and I think that's where mine lies.

'But I've a wee way to go before that.

'My next destination is Aberfoyle,

'and for the moment we lose sight of the hills as we wander

'through a tree-covered landscape.'

In 1691, the Reverend Robert Kirk,

the seventh son of a former Minister of this Kirkton Church

in Aberfoyle, wrote a book called

The Secret Commonwealth Of Fairies, Fauns and Elves.

He was a passionate believer in the existence of

a supernatural other world.

Now the following year he was taking a walk on nearby Doune Hill,

when he fell and died, and sometime later

he appeared as a ghost to some of his former parishioners,

and he said, "I haven't died but I fell into a deep swoon

"and was taken away to live in fairyland."

Now today if you mention fairies to most people

they'll give you a strange look,

but 300 years ago, people were

much more superstitious than they are today,

and passionately believed in the existence of fairies,

both good and bad, goblins, water kelpies and such like.

So much so that no matter where you go in Scotland today,

almost anywhere, you'll find dozens and dozens

of tales about the supernatural.

'Leaving folklore and legend behind me,

'I'm heading north of Aberfoyle and entering our first National Park.'

You know, it's a curious thing, but despite being

the birthplace of John Muir, the founding father of

the International National Parks Movement, Scotland was one of the

last countries in the world to actually get them,

but we've got two now - the Loch Lomond and Trossachs National Park,

where I am at the moment, and the Cairngorms.

How successful have they been?

It's difficult to say, they've not been in existence for all that long

so I think it's safe to say the jury's still out.

This is the moment I've been anticipating for a few days now.

I've left the trail down below and I wanted to climb up to

a high point, right onto the very crest of this Highland

boundary fault. This is the geological fault, the geological

line that runs all the way from the south end of Loch Lomond, right

across Scotland to Stonehaven just south of Aberdeen and on that side,

on the south side of the line lie the Braw Lomonds where I've just

been walking for the past few days.

And on this side, the feisty Highlands,

and I'm looking down here into the very heart of the Trossachs.

Feast your eyes on that because

that's why they made this area a National Park.

All day I've been following the Rob Roy Way,

a lovely long distance walk named in celebration of

Rob Roy MacGregor Campbell.

Rob Roy was born in 1671 at Glengyle, at the far end

of Loch Katrine and he became the Chief of the Clan,

the notorious Clan MacGregor,

but he also became the subject of a novel by Sir Walter Scott,

a novel that helped change the face of this area, for ever.

The Highlands boundary line not only splits Scotland in two

geologically, but also socially and culturally.

300 years ago, the people who lived north of that line were

sequestered from the society of the day, they lived to a patriarchal

clan system and as Sir Walter Scott said so nicely,

"Every so often they were wont to have predatory excursions

"upon their lowland neighbours,"

usually in the form of cattle raids

or a bit of plundering here and there.

It wasn't until Sir Walter Scott wrote his popular books,

Lady Of The Lake and Rob Roy, that things began to change.

Other writers and artists began to visit the Highlands -

people like the Wordsworths,

James Hogg the Ettrick shepherd, and Robert Burns,

and that was the start of the Highlands' greatest industry -

tourism.

'If any place in Scotland has the credentials for calling itself

'the gateway to the Highlands, then it surely must be Callander,

'tucked away in the shadow of these Callander Craigs,

'part of the Highland fault line.

'Every year tens of thousands of people pass through the town,

'en route to the big hills of the Highlands,'

and that's exactly what I'm doing - leaving the town behind

and dropping down into the lonely miles of Glen Artney.

'In Walter Scott's epic poem, Lady Of The Lake, he refers to,

' "Lone Glen Artney's hazel shade." '

But, of course, in those days,

the Glen would be much more populated than it is today.

Indeed in Stobie's map of Perthshire of 1783,

this right of way that I'm following was a proper road.

'At the time of the Jacobite Rebellions,

'the families who lived here in Glen Artney

'chose to follow the wrong side.

'And after the Battle of Culloden the Government proscribed them.

'That means they weren't allowed to carry arms

'and they weren't allowed to wear tartan,'

and not long after that they were finally cleared from the land.

It's quite interesting now and again walking along these empty miles

just to let your imagination wander a wee bit,

and see in your mind's eye what it might've been like here

300 years ago when all these families were living here.

And certainly the road that I've been following would have been

fairly busy. There may have been the odd cattle or sheep drove along it.

I can imagine people with dog carts with their goods and chattels

'wandering up and down,

'the odd horses and ponies, maybe the odd carriage.'

but now there's nothing.

Really the only sounds you hear nowadays are the cries of sheep,

or a skylark, or a curlew.

It's actually quite sad.

During the Roman occupation, an ancient tribe lived in these areas -

they were known as the Verturiones and they were quite strange

because they didn't speak Gaelic or Pict, but a form of British,

more akin to Cornish or Breton or Welsh.

'They were heavily influenced by the Irish

'who had begun to move to Scotland in fairly large numbers,

'so much so that this whole area became known as Stratherin.

'E-R-I-N as opposed to the Strathearn that we know today.'

And these people moved about quite a lot, even as far north as Atholl,

because Atholl comes from the words Atholla or new Ireland,

and indeed this house behind me

here, Airigh Mhuircheartaich, is a corruption of the words

Moriarty's Sheiling or Airigh Moriarty -

another Irish link in this whole chain of place names

that runs from here to the Cairngorms.

'Someone who's adopted these hills is outdoor instructor,

'Stuart Johnston.

'While many of his colleagues have based themselves

'in the more popular areas further north and west, he's passionate

'about Highland Perthshire and couldn't wait to sing it's praises.'

Well, it's the heart of Scotland.

We can go west, east, north, south,

and whichever direction we go, we're going to see something spectacular.

We can kind of describe the character of the Cairngorms

because it's quite unique,

or Glencoe. How would you define the character of Highland Perthshire?

There's no doubt Cairngorms is the highest land mass

in the United Kingdom, so when you're up there

you're going to see an Alpine and Arctic environment. Here you're

going to see more of an Alpine environment, with lots of wildlife

from birds to deer, which are scattered more across this area.

So you're really saying it's much more luxuriant than the Cairngorms

which is a wee bit barren?

-I have to say that.

-But it is of course, isn't it?

A great thing about Highland Perthshire is the trees.

Oh, trees - it's big tree country and we have some of the tallest

trees in Britain here and, you know, there's projects internationally

where they're bringing seedlings from trees which are probably going

to disappear, bringing them to Scotland, planting those seedlings,

getting them up into a healthy state and then taking them back to their

indigenous country and replanting them again, so Scotland's actually

offering a habitat to support other international countries who are

on the verge of losing some of their very, very delicate species of trees.

Stuart, we've come along Glenalmond,

and coming through this lovely little defile here of Glen Lochan.

What would have caused a big glen like Glenalmond

and this little sort of defile here?

Well, this is definitely remains of classic glaciation,

and just below us you've got some brilliant glacial river terracing

going on and, as this narrows, this glacier would have

receded itself and just filled back into there and the pressure

would have helped form the landscape as well as all that kind of gushing

water in the river systems,

but in actual fact the hill above us is Meall an Fhudair

and that's the Knobbly Hill of the Well and right down here we've got

this beautiful little stream system that comes out and I just wondered,

I've never found a well up on the top of that hill, but I hope to one day.

Stuart, what got you involved in the outdoors in the first place?

My father took me walking when I was small

and I guess, like most young people when they get into the outdoors,

their parents have been hugely influential in that.

What was the defining moment that made you think,

-"This is what I want to do for a living?"

-Oh, gosh!

I went to the Himalayas when I was 17 on a youth expedition

and it was a bit of a big trekking/mountaineering peak

and it was at 21,000 feet, and I really enjoyed the experience.

I was out there for six weeks and I came back and I thought,

"I just want to do more."

And I decided that I had to explore Scotland more at that point

and that's when I went out to really get over all the Munros,

as much as I possibly could and just explore all the really interesting

geographical areas that this country has to offer. And that got me

hooked and I decided at that point,

"I want to make a living out of this. How do I go about doing that?"

And that's what I eventually did.

Stuart, can you tell me about just this little glen we're in here

and its geographical setting?

Well, we're halfway through Glennan Lochan and it's...

the halfway point is marked by this beautiful amphitheatre

and it's just really trapped with vegetation.

We're in a sub-Alpine zone which is between,

really, 350 and 600 metres and the sort of plants we're likely to see

here is harebell and we've also got mountain thyme and that's one

of Scotland's few scented plants that you'll find at this altitude

and we also have some lady mantle

just in the wetter habitat, just below us.

Lady mantle is the sister of Alpine lady mantle which grows

a little bit higher.

That plant's called eyebright and our earlier people who

lived in Scotland in the glens used lots of medicines and that's one

of the plants that was used to help ailments and eye infections.

And of course we've got a huge range of heathers,

from bell heather to cross leaved heath

and some of the berry heathers are here too.

And that's only scratching the surface

of what we have here at just 1,000 feet.

I can visualise people, how they were managing the land, you know, how they

were living off the land and every time I look at the ground,

I'm looking at a plant and I think,

"I wonder what they were doing with that?"

"Were they picking the berries here? How important was that as a food crop

"through the summer to their diet and to their sustainability here?

"How did they store it?"

And then when you go into some of the settlements

you'll find old refrigeration pits, storage pits that people used

and again your imagination just goes in all directions.

I enjoy visiting other places around the world

but I love working in Scotland -

it's the culture, it's the people, it's the history, you know,

and this is my home and I love making a living from where I live.

I've been following the Scottish National Trail through

some of our most beautiful glens,

but now and again the route climbs to a high point and that's

when the views become even more gratifying.

I've climbed up here above Strathtay,

with the great hills of Breadalbane ranged across

the horizon behind me.

There's Ben Lawers above Loch Tay, the Carn Mairg group of hills

above Glen Lyon and away in front of me Schiehallion,

the fairy hill of the Caledonians.

You know, even after 40 years of climbing mountains in Scotland,

I still get this boyish excitement

when I get up to a high point and get a view.

Who wouldn't get excited?

I've been following the Moness Burn down into the Moness Den,

known to thousands of people as the Birks of Aberfeldy,

and there's one man who can describe this area much better than I can.

Can I introduce you to Robert Burns, who came here in 1787?

Now, Rab, you've been writing about the Birks of Aberfeldy,

so let's hear your description of the place.

'The braes ascend like lofty wa's,

'The foamy stream deep roaring fa's,

'O'er-hung wi' fragrant spreading shaws,

'The birks of Aberfeldie.'

That is beautiful. Thank you for that, Rabbie.

Well, that's me finished the first half of my end-to-end walk

through Scotland and what a memorable journey it's been, from

the Scottish Borders, through the canals of central Scotland and on

through the winding glens to Highland Perthshire and Aberfeldy.

But what have I got in store after that?

The next couple of hundred miles are going to be tougher,

that's for sure - through the Cairngorms and then

up into the wilds of the northwest, all the way to Cape Wrath.

So I hope you can join me

for the second half of the Scottish National Trail.

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