Wild Wild Life … not actually, the song (Edinburgh Part 1)

Sometimes, no matter where you are, you just need a burger. How I ended up at Five Guys in Edinburgh, Scotland.

For Christmas some years ago, my wife gave me a lovely book detailing the ancient Christian pilgrimage routes around the world. Most have heard of the most famous of all, The Way of St. James, 30 or so days from the Pyrenees in Southern France to the coast in Spain, made even more famous by the movie “The Way”. Books of this variety are leafed through in the few days after the gift, then moved to the rightful spot on the coffee table, pages never again to see the light.

Not this one. When she passed away, I began to look around for things to do that facilitated quiet contemplation. I had already booked a road trip through the Southern US for February, but I wanted something in the Spring. Dead time at home was the enemy. How about a walking tour, something we had always planned to do. I remembered the book and dug it out and opened to the first pilgrimage – St. Cuthbert’s Way, Melrose Scotland to Holy Island England. A manageable 62 miles along the beautiful Scottish English Border. Check. English spoken … sort of. Check. Modest religious connection. Check. Perfect. I quickly found a company to do the bag hopping gig between pre-selected inns. And in my usual careful style, I booked the thing about 15 minutes after having the idea. This is exactly what I need I said to myself. (I talk to myself a lot). Scheduled to go in late May. Springtime in the Borders … lovely. Pass the sugar old boy.

The bag hoppers only allowed one smallish bag, so I packed just for the walk. Hiking shoes, Merino wool socks, Cashmere sweaters, layers and an Orvis full rainwear set. The flight from JFK to Edinburgh was a breeze, with a quick Uber ride to the starting point in Melrose. Lovely little inn for the night. I got to Melrose in time to drop my bags and head out for a stroll. The ruins of Melrose Abbey, where St. Cuthbert himself is said to have lived for a time, are in the center of town, in a valley surrounded by hills. Drizzling a bit, but nothing serious. Lovely.

The wheels started to come off fairly quickly. The walk was completely self-guided … I had an app and a few maps. But it was a well-traveled path, so I was not concerned. The guide service rated it easy to moderate, perfect for someone of my vintage. After a quick walk through town, I turned onto the path and headed in. What I saw surprised me a bit … 1000 feet straight up. Easy to moderate for the Braveheart or Rob Roy guys perhaps … damn near killed me. The Scottish heather was blooming a glorious yellow all around, but as I went on, I was more concerned with the state of my heart. When I made it to top, the app chirped “you have made it to the highest point in this section”, which was particularly irritating.

Then it started to rain … a lot. Part of the trail ran along the River Tweed, and I had hoped to see some fisherman along this famous trout and salmon fishery. Ah, but they were certainly ensconced in a warm pub somewhere, dreaming of better days. The river was roaring from the rain. I was getting progressively more soaked. I saw a few other groups in the trail, but it was hardly crowded. This section of the trail was well maintained and easy to manage even with the rain. A bit before noon I reached a town at the halfway point. I stopped a couple on the street and asked where a guy could get a cup of tea. They were kind enough to point me in the right direction and said it was very chic. I wondered to them if they would let me in … and when I got there they did look at me like I was something the cat drug in. I was a mess, despite the raingear. I wanted to order lunch, but they said they did not begin serving until noon. it was 5 of. I had to wait to order, puddle forming at my feet. Chic indeed.

I shared the table with another group of hikers, equally wet. I got up to go and wished them well. I had another 8 miles to yet and wanted to get back to it. A bit along the way, the app chirped to me “trail narrows ahead.” This is when the real fun started. Not only did the trail become narrow, it became a muddy, murky, rocky, rooty mess. And all the other hikers had disappeared … I was by myself. The rain continued. At one point the trail narrowed to about a foot and a half, and there was a foot of water on the bottom. My shoes and the fancy Orvis rainsuit were not up to the task, I was soaked through from top to bottom. I was no longer considering the surroundings, as my eyes were fixed on the trail, trying not to fall. If I did fall and hit my head, the crows would have picked my body clean by the time anyone found me. It was one of the most unpleasant things I have ever done.

I finally made it to the pickup point; a car was supposed to transfer me to the next inn. While I was waiting, I looked at the forecast for duration of the hike … nothing but rain. When the cab came the driver told me that everyone else had quit … he had already picked them up along the way. I was a trader for many years. Good traders know how to cut losses. GMO … get me out. I asked the driver if he can drive me to Edinburgh tomorrow. No, but he can get me to the train. Done. I went to inn, peeled off the gross clothes, had a chocolate bar, made a reservation in Edinburgh and went to sleep.

Next morning, I put on my wet shoes. The “drying room” at the inn had little impact on the wetness. Breakfast, into the cab, over to the train, scoot into the city, walk to the hotel (Edinburgh is a much more civilized place to walk). Clothes. Respectable clothes. I needed clothes and shoes, stat. Into town, smelly shoes and all, so shoes first. Needless to say I wore new shoes, and socks, out of the store. A few shirts and pants, and another bag to take the extra crap home, and I was ready to go.

But I was alone, without a plan. I feel asleep again. By the time I woke up, it was late and I was hungry. Most of the restaurants were closed. There was a shopping arcade behind the hotel. I wandered around a bit when I saw Five Guys. A burger. How great. How weird. In a lovely foreign city and you are going to get an American fast food burger. You bet, sometimes a guy just needs a burger. I went in and ordered. As I was sitting at the table, Wild Wild Life by The Talking Heads came out of the piped in music. The guy behind the counter started singing along and dancing, spatula in hand. I knew then everything would settle down. And it did, until the incident on the plane coming back home ….