‘It’s not the Zambezi, but the Tweed has its moments’: canoeing in the Scottish Borders | Canoeing and kayaking holidays
IIt was a morning with bleak green banks and dark skies on the River Tweed. Torrential rains had hit southern Scotland and the waterway became a flash flood, with the downpour sweeping our two-man canoe downstream through farmland, the fishing moving as fast as salmon escaping a rod and reel.
The river, normally easy to navigate and at times only a few feet deep, was swollen, the rush of water pushing up oily eddies that ambushed us. Our pace was furious, the spray cold and fresh. But my spirits were lifted because that was the reason I had come: to see the Anglo-Scottish border from a new perspective.
Times are changing for Tweed. A world-class salmon fishing river in a valley with a recent history of hosting blockbuster events, including last summer’s UCI Mountain Bike World Championships, the waterway is now looking to the canoe for its latest lure. The Tweed Valley Canoe Trail officially launched today (May 1) and, open to the thrill of gentle paddling as well as whitewater, I had come to Borders for a two-day review of its 30-mile upper course.
“You see the genesis of the trail, without its makeup,” my guide, Craig Reid of Biggar Adventure, he told me, at the starting point just outside Stobo, in September. “It’s not the Zambezi, but tweed has its moments, meeting somewhere at the intersection of soft adventure and meditation. It’s relaxed but rewarding.” Something I shouldn’t do? “Travel sideways in the swift current,” he replied. I must have looked a little nervous.
The Upper Tweed Valley may be the UK’s hottest river destination this summer, but it helps that the new canoe trail is manageable for novice paddlers already up and running, as well as those who fancy a bigger challenge Grade 2 rapids. The trail is split into six sections between Stobo and Tweedbank, ranging from two to eight miles.
Light infrastructure is already emerging along the river. This includes storage racks and attachment points for safe tying, signage and information panels. The project developer, Go Tweed Valley, is also working to increase the number of paddler-friendly accommodations to add to the already existing campgrounds. Free waterproof trail maps are available from outdoor shops in Peebles and Innerleithen or have digital version on the Go Tweed Valley site. There are places to hire equipment in the Tweed Valley and further afield in Edinburgh (such as Kayak and SUP for rent and sale or Driftwood Adventure).
Our craft was a 35-pound Canadian flat-bottomed canoe (making it less maneuverable but more stable), large enough to carry two with dry bags overnight. Kingfishers and kingfishers circled in flight and a great blue heron looked on as we took our first few shots. May and June are when you see flotillas of downy ducks, Craig said. September, at the end of paddling season, is about salmon jumping right over your canoe. In the months in between, the otters make camp on the edges.
For all the innovations on the trail, the Tweed Valley retains a remarkably old-fashioned set of Scottish ideals at its heart. The catch and release fly fishing is as good as anywhere and there are sporting estates, historic textile mills and grand baronial halls that tell of the Borders’ historic role in the days of Mary Queen of Scots and James VI.
Before Peebles, most of the Neidpath Castle emerged looking particularly impressive from the water. By the time we reach Toll Wood at Innerleithen, two hours’ rowing, we’ve shot through the middle of a salmon ladder and past jilly huts and a few JR Hartley types in green twill unrolling a fishing line from the shore. It was like a Constable landscape come to life.
The artist’s contemporary, Walter Scott, also revered the British countryside. The story of the writer is inseparable from the Borders and Traquair House, a ramshackle old hunting lodge where we stayed the night. Scott regularly visited Traquair, largely because of his friendship with the then owner, Lady Louisa Stewart. Dating back to 1107, it is conveniently located on a bend of the Tweed next to a new draw and wild camping point.
We followed a path to the house, for a hot bath and beer from the brewery, located in the wing just below the 1829 chapel. This just gives a hint of Traquair’s history. The main house, lush with crooked staircases and a secret escape route used by Catholics during the Reformation, overlooks the B&B, whose rooms are crammed with four-poster beds and antique furniture. Behind rises a garden with a statue of Cupid stretching his bow.
Guide writer Rich Rowe and freelance writer Lindsey Quayle, two Peebles-based outdoorsmen who are the brains behind the trail, joined us for a pie and a pint in the nearby The Traquair Arms Hotel. They said the Tweed remains undiscovered but also needs to be treated differently from other rivers.
“A river like the Tay has long been open to rafting and adventure water sports operators,” said Rich, via Tempest Brewing Co a pale ale from nearby Tweedbank. “That story doesn’t belong here,” Lindsay added. “So there needs to be sensitivity to traditional users, especially fly fishermen who hook salmon and trout. We canoeists are the new kids.”
On our second morning, the river seemed calmer, its eddies less turbulent, and Craig was calm enough to let me take breaks to absorb the highlights. As instructed, I balanced my paddle on my lap to see the shores and take notes on my phone as we crossed ancient fords and scrambled under bridges through Walkerburn and Glenkinnon. We soon passed the ruined Elibank Castle, then stopped uphill at Yair Bridge, a triple-arched stone crossing and forerunner of the Fairneilly rapids, the wildest section of the trail.
Ahead of us were waves, some about a meter high, others waltzing against a chaotically orchestrated symphony of rolling and splashing. Craig, behind, regained the steering position, his wooden oar giving more force to the curling water than my blade, then we rolled over and under the bridge, not lightly, but head-on. Turns out there’s a very fine line between calm and neatness and wet pants and after a wave came over the sides we both burst out laughing.
Our adventure slowly came to a close, first winding south, then back north on the final stretch that led to the grand finale: Abbotsford, Walter Scott’s time-warped Gothic mansion. Viewed from the water, the village pile takes on a different personality – more secretive, more majestic – and rises above the river like a monumental finish line. Imagine Balmoral on the Thames. The day was bright and the sun illuminated the river’s path eastwards towards Kelso where it continued under the Cheviot Hills towards the mouth of Berwick-upon-Tweed and into the North Sea.
My pants drying in the sun were a testament to the great trip we had had. Two hundred years ago Scott might have been surprised to see two canoeists towing a vessel only a few paces from where he had captured the beauty of the Tweed from his study window. He knew it was a beautiful part of the country, but today the river is about to be discovered by a whole new audience. As with any paddle forward, there are always two longing looks back.
For more information on the Tweed Valley Canoe Trail see gotweedvalley.co.uk. Accommodation was provided by Traquair House (doubles from £175 B&B, traquair.co.uk). For guided canoe tours, equipment rentals and transfers visit biggaradventure.co.uk. A three-hour guided trip costs from £45 p. For additional information visit scotlandstartshere.com
