Driving through Northumberland, the A68 rises windingly and steeply as it approaches Carter Bar, a narrow pass in the Cheviot Hills where there once used to be a tollgate. Coming from the south, this is where England ends and Scotland begins. “Hello!” I always cry as I drive past the Welcome to Scotland sign, happy to be on home territory again.

Drivers on a long haul, or those new to the area, pull over in the laybys to enjoy a superb vista over Teviotdale, the Border hills and forests falling away into the blue distance. There is usually a mobile café, serving snacks to sustain travellers on the their way north. It is popular because, more often than not, after drinking in the beauty of the Borderlands, the next stop for many visitors is Edinburgh, or beyond.

It is a long-running joke in these parts that tourists rush through the Borders on their way to the Highlands, where the more scenic and famous Scotland begins. In so doing, they completely ignore an under-trumpeted region that amply rewards exploring.

The Herald’s focus on the Highlands and Islands shone a much-needed light on an area most of us know only superficially. In getting under the skin of a vast but thinly populated area, its in-depth coverage brought to life the problems and pleasures of a part of Scotland better known from its rose-tinted and glamorised image in films and books than from an insider’s perspective.

What was striking, as someone living in the Borders, was the similarity of some of the issues experienced at both extremes of the mainland, albeit on a different scale.

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