As we walked from the road up to the house we crossed a small bridge over the Rule which was now not much more than a babbling brook.  Logs, branches, and erosion eight to ten feet up the bank, however, indicated what the river had been like during the thaw and rains only a few weeks earlier.

Like the Border region itself, lunch was not fancy and all the better for it.  Cold smoked Scottish salmon and fresh cheeses on homemade bread were accompanied by fresh greens, fruit, and the conversation of new acquaintances becoming friends.  I understand that the reason the salmon tastes so good is that after their life in the distilleries, the oak whisky barrels are slowly burned to smoke the fish fillets to glazed perfection.

Taking the Scenic Route to Bedrule

After lunch we hiked the scenic route over to Bedrule.  The moist earth was soft beneath the carpet of new grass as we climbed up a hill on the north side of the Bedrule River.  We were careful not to touch the electric fence as we stepped across the sweater James draped over it and to avoid moving any rocks out of place as we climbed over the stone walls. 

We saw neither cattle nor sheep but evidence of their presence was everywhere.  The ridge was covered with hawthorn tree sized bushes and young wild cherry trees which had finished blooming for the year.

The Rule waters seemed quiet from the hill as they turned to the north and curved past the old mill.  Beyond, small in the distance but standing out atop the jutting lava core known as Minto Crags, Fatlips Castle was clearly visible across the Teviot River.  The Knights advised us of the best paths to reach Fatlips and also of the routes to be avoided.

Bedrule Castle mound with Bedrule Kirk in upper left

Bedrule Castle and Kirk

We walked a half mile or so south to the lumpy knoll where earth and grass covered the foundation walls of Bedrule Castle destroyed by the English in 1545.  From the castle mound the current-day Bedrule Kirk sits about 200 yards farther south.  The church sits on a ridge some distance above the bed of the Rule with the three open sides of its yard taken up by a

cemetery filled with tidy but aged tombstones, many of them bearing the names of previous Turnbulls.

Audrey and James Knight with Betty Turnbull in Bedrule

Bedrule Hamlet

A narrow lane curves around the Bedrule Kirk, past an incongruously bright red phone booth, to serve as street for the half dozen homes that comprise the hamlet of Bedrule.  Today’s residents either work on the sheep farm behind the hamlet or in town where “town” can be as far away as Edinburgh.

We made our way back to the car the long way, walking along the road instead of going back through the fields and over the fences.  Our goodbye was short as we were late for our meeting with George Turnbull, the head of TCA Scotland, at Martinshouse near Hawick.  We drove off with the sadness of leaving new friends and Bedrule but also with the deep pleasure of rich memories.

Martinshouse

On the outside, Martinshouse is a beautiful farmhouse which sits on the hillside as though it belongs, having been put there by nature rather than by man.  Inside, it is a modern comfortable home and efficient office suite which serves George’s advertising consultancy business.  On the wall in the office reception area is a poster showing a strong bull design and the motto “Let us Turn-the-Bull to your advantage.”  Right away, I thought “I’m going to like this man.”

We had a fun but also productive time getting to know George while we brainstormed about TCA and how we might not only grow the organization but increase interaction between its various international branches.