The east face of Sell Moor Hill is one of the great last problems of Scottish hillwalking. The north access is a cliche with five out of six of the recorded completions on that side. Barring the tricky entry to the field, over the fence and round the fir tree, this is a route sadly lacking in challenge over its one kilometre length. The sixth account, https://www.walkhighlands.co.uk/Forum/viewtopic.php?f=9&t=57982 by nigheandonn, uses the Border Railway to assault the terrifying west face (pictured here from a trip into the Moorfoots last year.)

An outing as a horse labourer gave me the opportunity I sought. They were riding on Lauder Moor and I swapped light shite-shovelling for a lift to the car park. One of the tricky elements of the east face is the anonymity of the hill - in fact I never really saw the summit till I was 10 metres away. Anyway I headed on to the moor then turned west to face the notional position. I pointed the camera in an approximate direction. Thoughts of Rum Doodle came to mind, "Will it go?".

I made speedy progress on good tracks till I crossed the track to Allanshaws. I'd meant to follow this for a kilometre and strike on up through the woods. However I got timorous about a huge herd of cattle and possibly climbing dry-stane dykes, so I went parallel to the road. This gave me one dyke to cross and I looked for a gate. When I reached it, it turned out to be nailed shut. I went on the broken bit of wall, over the first barbed wire strand then under the second. Then I retrieved my bag which had hooked up on the way.

Once through I was ambushed by bog and tussock and detoured to avoid a nasty swamp. Somewhat bothered, I achieved the summit. It's got decent views of Eildon and Deaf Heights stretching up to Windlestraw. I returned down the tourist track and then across the road and down a fine green track. My pleasure was only lessened by fairly constant attacks by clegs. Back, I felt smug that I'd not done a mere two kilometres and I'd not had a drive way out of proportion to the walk, in contrast to the baggers. Of course a seven ton horse box is faily showering particulates across the countryside, but that goes to the rider's account, not mine.

It could be argued my north east approach didn't truly conquer the east face. I leave that challenge to another, more intrepid generation.