‘The Reservoir’ and us
This grainy image is one of my most prized possessions, a glimpse into a fading world and clue to my future direction. It was taken some time in the mid 1980’s, I can’t be totally sure but given I was born in late 1981 and I look about 3 or 4 I think is fair to say spring 1985 or perhaps 1986. The man I am with is my dad Ronnie, who has been my companion out on the hills ever since. I love his style - jeans, v neck jumper. I am willing to bet NOBODY wears that style of swag out on the hills in the 2020s!
I would like to say this was the start of me being an enthusiastic hill walking child, never of the peaks of the Borders and beyond but truthfully it wasn’t - the clue is the sweeties dad has clearly used to keep me sweet which it looks like I am tucking into here. I got far too fond of them, and my Doctor Who and puzzle books, and wouldn’t really rekindle my love of these hills until my 20’s. However, just being out there, learning from dad and receiving what I see as an essential part of our birth right in Innerleithen - the knowledge of our hills and the stories found there, is surely a formative part of who I am. Sharing these stories on Social Media, this blog and now with tour guests has defined my life for the past few years and I am so grateful that I had this early influence. Curiosity, comfort from days in the hills and the joy of noticing wee details surely started here.
Old photos are treasures of course, and in the pre digital age even more so. With phone cameras and the ability to edit and delete as we go, we take images constantly now (guilty as charged). Sometimes this can be at the detriment of simply being present. That said, what they can do is show us change, that unstoppable force of landscape and humanity, and this second image below does just that.
Back then, dad and I (plus my mum and sister behind the camera of course!) stood beside a strange concrete wall on a quiet moor, the heather thick around our feet and barely a hint of a path. It felt and looked like a place humans seldom visited, and I believe it was. Compare that to today with a blasted opening in the tank, the heather worn to grass, decades of graffiti layered and a track carved first by Land Rovers and now by thousands of mountain bikes and now seemingly a majority of e‑bikes. I’ve marked the exact spot where we stood, forty years earlier, and it’s astonishing how well trodden it has become in the years since.
Image taken from the top of ‘the reservoir’
Don’t worry, I am not going to make this a ‘I wish things were like they were in the 1980’s’ piece. I want more people to explore our hills and history and indeed I have done more than most to positively encourage it with blogs and even on national radio. The reservoir in Caberston Forest is definitely not a local secret anymore. What really interests me isn’t so much nostalgia, it’s the thread that starts with a wee boy eating sweeties on the hill and runs to the man I am now, still exploring and noticing the stories that make the Borders the fascinating place it is.
I’m very grateful to my mum and dad for giving me curiosity and a deep love of our hills. It might have taken a while but those early wanderings undoubtedly set me on the path I’m walking today.
If you’d like to explore the Borders in that same spirit, I’d love to be the one to show you around. Whether you prefer a private driver guided tour or a walking tour, my goal is, always, to help people connect deeply with place, just as I did up on those hills over 40 years ago…
