Burntisland Exhibitions

I read an article about the annual exhibition staged by Burntisland Heritage Trust. This year's topic was the shipbuilding heritage of the coastal town. I'm interested in all forms of transport and industrial heritage, so I decided to go along and see what was on offer. The premises of the Heritage Trust are located on Kirkgate, just off the High Street.

The exhibition was spread over three galleries. One room featured a collection of model ships that had been assembled by local resident Brian Dean (1937 - 2021). A native Tynesider and keen sailor, Brian spent a good chunk of his married life in Fife. He worked as an orthopaedic surgeon until his retiral in 1997. Impressive as Brian's resumé was, I'm not a great fan of scale models and I wandered over to the next display. This was more my cup of tea. A history of the Burntisland Shipbuilding Company that traded between 1918 and 1969. In the 19th century, Burntisland was a major port for the exportation of coal and there was a cross-river boat train link with Granton, discontinued in 1891 when the Forth Bridge opened. The town had also been the centre of the Forth herring industry. Brothers Wilfred and Amos Ayre founded the shipyard in 1918 and an eight-mile power cable was laid from Dunfermline, which also benefitted the town. The shipyard produced regular journals throughout its lifetime which meant there was plenty of accurate information available to the curators of the exhibition. Over 300 vessels were built and the yard offered several recreation clubs for the workers. The construction berths could accommodate ships up to 450 feet long and the first boat was launched in 1919. The yard was equipped with the latest technology and excellent rail and cranage facilities were available. Throughout the 20s and 30s, Burntisland produced a steady supply of "tramp" steamers - a workhorse of the seas that had no fixed route and carried a wide assortment of cargo, including occasional passengers. The First World War was ongoing when Burntisland began trading and the government placed an order for three cargo ships. Heavy losses due to submarine attacks had necessitated an extensive building programme and the ships were to be of a simple standardised type, to enable them to be delivered relatively quickly. As it turned out, the hostilities ended before Burntisland could hand over the vessels and they were privately sold instead. Wilfrid Ayre developed the "economy ship" which reduced fuel consumption by up to 50%. This allowed the yard to survive the Great Depression as there was considerable demand for transport with lower running costs. With the growing need for electricity in the early 20th century, power stations were built along the banks of the Thames to serve the southeast of England. Due to the number of bridges crossing the river, a ship with a low profile and collapsible masts and funnel was required. Burntisland built 16 of the so-called flat irons to enable the London turbines to be fuelled by coal. The firm reported having a full order book in 1939. Burntisland had carved out a niche, supplying specialised cargo ships.

The company had a stand at the 1938 Empire Exhibition in Bellahouston Park, Glasgow. A mock-up of a ship's bow dominated the display and the marketing message was that careful design of hulls for effective propulsion meant you didn't have to sacrifice an attractive appearance. The yard's wartime output exceeded that of any other on the east coast of Scotland. A total of 62 ships were launched during the conflict, totalling almost 400,000 tons. Prefabricated designs were created for the Merchant Navy, who had the difficult and dangerous task of crossing U-boat infested waters to carry supplies to and from friendly ports. By 1942, the Allies were losing 70 merchant ships per month in the North Atlantic alone. Wilfrid Ayre was appointed as a government advisor and his team came up with the idea of converting merchant vessels to aircraft carriers, to provide the much-needed defensive cover. Burntisland Shipyard was modified in the early 1960s to allow the construction of larger boats. Cargo liners became the new project but this move ultimately led to the yard over-extending itself. M.V Ohrmazd had the highest passenger capacity of any ship to be built at Burntisland. Launched in 1967, she proved to be the straw that broke the camel's back as protracted wrangling with the customer resulted in expensive penalty clauses being triggered, from which the yard never really recovered. The company went into liquidation at the end of 1968 and 800 workers were made redundant. The site was subsequently used to build platforms for oil rigs and by the 21st century, the dock complex was occupied by Burntisland Fabrications (BiFab) - building jackets for offshore wind turbines. Alas, this venture collapsed in 2020. The name Burntisland Shipyard lives on through the town's football team, who occasionally qualify for the Scottish Cup. The final gallery contained information about John Key & Sons, who ran the Abden Shipyard a few miles outside Burntisland between 1864 and 1884. I had a look at this material then crossed the street to enter another museum that was hosting its annual summer exhibition. I met up here with Nicole, who had been visiting a few of the town's independent shops. Tales of old ocean-going vessels not really being her thing.

The Museum of Communications is located on the High Street and the theme for this year is radio and television broadcasting, marking 100 years of BBC programmes. Open on Wednesdays and Saturdays from May until the end of September, the interior of the museum is larger than you might imagine. It was my first visit and I made my way up the stairs to the main display area. Naturally the story beings with radio and the airwaves reigned supreme until the mid-50s, when sales of TV sets took off. Cheap crystal receivers were a useful entry point to the new technology but were only really suitable for one person as the weak output could only power a single pair of headphones. The advent of the loudspeaker enabled the whole family to listen simultaneously. Power was often supplied by an accumulator (a wet battery that required regular charging) and I recall my gran talking about such arrangements. My early childhood listening was facilitated by my dad's bulky valve radio from the 1950s. It was too large to be classed as portable, although moving the unit from room to room was easy enough. The valves took a while to warm up and there was an audible hum before the speaker spluttered into life. Lightweight transistor radios were widely available from the 1960s onwards and I used to take a pocket-sized "tranny" on holiday and to football matches (to find out the results from around the country). People often talked about listening to the wireless, but that phrase seems to have disappeared. The Radio Times magazine was launched in 1923 and is still going strong as a viewing and listening guide. I read it every week via my digital subscription package. The first public demonstration of television was conducted by John Logie Baird, one of several Scotsmen who made great advances in communications technology. Ultimately his system wasn't chosen as the industry standard but Logie Baird remains the founding father of the small screen. Scheduled broadcasting began in 1936 and the Coronation of Queen Elizabeth in 1953 accelerated public demand. ITV came onstream in 1955 and BBC Two followed in 1964. The three-channel model remained in place until 1982, when Channel 4 started (I remember the first broadcast). Meanwhile, radio broadcast quality benefitted from the introduction of FM stations, which could handle stereo sound. Colour television was commonplace by the late 1960s, although you had to purchase (or rent) a new set in order to upgrade. Interestingly, cheap black & white portables were still popular in the 80s. I had one in my bedroom and was still using it as late as 1996 in my student teacher digs. The mid-70s saw the emergence of local commercial radio channels and teletext information systems.

Home video recorders became affordable to the masses in the early 1980s and I vividly recall racing home from primary school to see our Betamax machine in action. This format lost the war with VHS, which went on to dominate personal recording for the next couple of decades. Eventually the digital age arrived, meaning programmes could be saved to DVD and hard disk. As always, there was a transition period and I was still using VHS tapes alongside my first DVD player, which was incapable of recording. Satellite TV dramatically increased the number of available channels and "council telly" also offered way more choice as the Freeview digital platform was rolled out. Nowadays we are rapidly growing accustomed to watching shows and movies on demand via the multitude of streaming services that compete for our cash. Indeed, the concept of scheduled broadcasting is largely alien to today's teenager. Although the BBC has always moved with the times, the funding model is firmly wedded to the past. I can't see how the licence fee can continue in its present form beyond the next major review in 2027. The average age of a regular BBC One viewer is now over 60. Even the BBC Three channel - conceived with the intention of attracting a younger crowd - is predominately patronised by 40-somethings. Radio remains strong and the internet age has connected broadcasters to the whole world. The museum galleries also showcased other forms of communication, such as record players, manual telephone switchboards and Morse code equipment. A veritable treasure trove of machinery with something for everyone. We did encounter a volunteer guide was was rather overbearing, but he meant well. Nine out of ten for this place. Free admission (with donations welcome).

Chillingham Wild Cattle

Around 6000 years ago, farming practices began in Great Britain. The hunter gatherer lifestyle was replaced by crop rearing and animal husbandry. Wild animals had to be domesticated in order to create the livestock we are familiar with today. The ancestor of modern cattle is considered to be the aurochs, now globally extinct.

Prior to human arrival, Britain was likely covered in a patchwork of grassy plains, shrublands and woodland. It was the ideal habitat for aurochs. They would have wandered the vast, wild landscapes in large herds. Grazing animals permit an array of wildflowers to co-exist by ensuring more boisterous plants don't dominate. The large herbivores nibble at the roots of bushes and young trees, thereby maintaining mosaics of open vegetation. Carcasses would fertilise the soil and provide food for a wide variety of other animals. Cattle dung is a nutrient-rich resource for plant and insect life. All part of a cycle. Human beings disrupted this natural order by taking large areas of land for farming purposes and domesticated livestock was given priority. Wild aurochs survived in Eastern Europe until the early 1600s, when the last known examples died out in the Polish forests. Their DNA imprint lives on in modern breeds such as Highland and Longhorn cattle, which explains why these particular beasts are so hardy. The Chillingham Wild Cattle Centre allows visitors to view the closest living link to the pre-domestic ancestors. Situated in Northumberland near the market town of Wooler, the Chillingham herd has roamed free for many centuries within the confines of the hilly estate. Safe from human interference, the bulls compete naturally for the attention of females, occasionally fighting each other to the death. The herd size is currently 130, equally split between male and female. All sport horns and have never been handled by people. No vet has ever administered treatment, other than humanely dispatch an animal clearly on the way out. No new member has joined the group in over three centuries and as a result the cattle are now completely inbred. There are scientific arguments to say they shouldn't have survived this! We drove down the A1 early on a Saturday morning and passed through Wooler, arriving at the visitors centre shortly thereafter. The estate was broken up in the 1980s and the cattle are now in the hands of a charitable trust. Chillingham Castle - the medieval manor house -functions today as separate concern. The Wild Cattle Visitors centre was constructed in recent years and offers refreshments, toilet facilities and, naturally, a gift shop. Staff are on hand to answer queries and the pre-cattle entertainment was provided by the adorable Teazle. A friendly springer spaniel, she dropped tennis balls at people's feet, hoping to engage them in a game of fetch. A very efficient retriever she was too!

Outside of winter, the centre is open seven days a week and offers four tours per day. Visitors are taken on a trailer ride up to the pasture. Each trip can accommodate a maximum of 20 people. There had been a constant drizzle as we drove down and it was a relief to note the trailer was enclosed by plastic sheeting. Ponchos could be safely stowed in the car. Two women - both fellow birdwatchers - joined our tour and the Land Rover began pulling us up the hillside. The website describes the trailer as "not well sprung" and fortunately the vehicle crawled along in first gear. Upon spotting the cattle (they do move around), the driver / guide pulled over at a field gate and invited us to take a few steps inside. The animals were around 150 yards away and that was as close are we were permitted to go. A large group had clustered together with a few outliers, but the beasts (thankfully) showed little interest in the spectators. A very informative talk was given and guests were invited to ask questions. I already knew about the isolation and inbreeding but hadn't truly appreciated the extent to which the cattle are left to fend for themselves. Struggling calves aren't helped in any way, nor are cows who experience difficulties after (or during) giving birth. The aim is to replicate nature as closely as possible. There is great scientific interest in the herd. Meticulous records have been kept since 1860, at the behest of Charles Darwin no less! A bellow rang out from time to time and I learned the bulls usually live for around 12 years, cows a little longer. Dead animals are retrieved and autopsies sometimes performed by researchers. I was astonished to hear the size of the herd had once dropped to just 13, following a harsh winter. I presume the gene pool was further depleted in subsequent generations. The last world cattle census was taken in 2018 and numbered over a billion beasts, underlining the infinitesimal fraction that the Chillingham contingent represents. The habitat here is a good example of wood pasture - now rare in Europe. A wide variety of plants and wildlife are present, due to the absence of intensive farming. Deer, red squirrels and badgers live within the estate and the bird species include green woodpeckers, buzzards and nuthatch. The guide let slip that a back-up herd exists in an undisclosed Scottish location. Fertility has not declined, perhaps attributable to the strict natural selection environment that applies. The cattle remain remarkably disease free and thankfully the nationwide foot and mouth outbreak in 2001 stopped two miles short of Chillingham Estate. Had a case been confirmed, the entire herd would have faced slaughter.

I found the whole experience fascinating. Domestic cattle are of course ten a penny as you travel around the UK but it was amazing to see a wild herd at close quarters and learn about the genetic links to the past. At just £9 per person, the tour is superb value for money and an absorbing history lesson for anyone interested in British flora and fauna. We drove back to Wooler, the last town of any significant distance from home we had visited before lockdown was announced in March, 2020. Thankfully the High Street was still trading vibrantly, with the independent shops still extant. We purchased lunch from the bakery and popped into the sweet shop. The delicatessen is owned by a German-speaking Scotsman and he remembered us from our previous trip. We selected some local cheeses as he regaled us with tales of his recent visits to the Vaterland. Wooler has just 2000 residents and it didn't take us long to explore the town centre. We then headed out to the coast to observe the birdlife and Budle Bay, one of our regular haunts over the years. Not a great deal was happening today, but it was nice to see a few curlews prodding the sands. Our accommodation for the night was on the Scottish side of the border in Kirk Yetholm. The small village sits at the northern end of the Pennine Way - a challenging 268-mile hillwalking trail that stretches all the way to the Peak District National Park in Derbyshire. Saint Cuthbert's Way also passes through Kirk Yetholm, meaning a steady flow of walkers provides a viable business model for the local hostel. The area is also popular with cyclists. The hostel is owned by Friends of Nature UK and is staffed by volunteer wardens. We managed to book one of the private rooms (which isn't any dearer than two beds in a dorm). Aside from a German family with young children, every guest was over the age of 45, a typical situation for a rural "youth hostel" in the UK. There was a spacious kitchen and lounge. Far more relaxing than my recent stay in a central London bunkhouse, not that you can meaningfully compare the two environments. After a good night's sleep and hearty breakfast, we headed northwards.

I had bought a handy map of the Northumberland 250 at the cattle centre. The 250 is a circular scenic driving route around the county. This type of experience is popular at the moment, with Scotland's North Coast 500 and Ireland's Wild Atlantic Way attracting motorists from all over the world. Route 66 with added rain! We decided to drive a small portion of the Northumberland circuit from Wooler to Berwick, where we could join the A1. It had rained heavily the previous evening and the back roads had surface water in places, but nothing too serious. Onwards we splashed. The map had identified the villages of Ford and Etal as places of interest. I must confess I hadn't heard of either. We turned off the main Coldstream road at the junction for Etal and spotted a brown sign for a heavy horse centre. Interesting, but we were already livestocked out this weekend. Back came the keeper of the brown signs with a better offer - the Heatherslaw Heritage Railway. Ok, now we're talking! I didn't expect to hit the jackpot though. As we pulled into the car-park, a locomotive was sitting in steam, clearly preparing for departure. We swiftly purchased tickets and squeezed into one of the little carriages. Heatherslaw is a 15-inch narrow gauge railway, running alongside the River Till from a mill complex knows as Ford Forge, to Etal, two miles away. Remarkably, the railway was built from scratch as a tourist attraction in the 1980s. I had wrongly assumed it must have industrial roots. A locomotive was commissioned from the Ravenglass & Eskdale Railway in Cumbria, while the six coaches (later increased to 13) were assembled on site. The line began running in 1989 and was extended to its present length in 2004. Over the last decade, a pair of new locomotives has been introduced. Steam-driven Bunty was working the line today, while reserve workhorse Binky runs on diesel. Due to time constraints (and the miserable weather), we decided not to alight at Etal and instead took the same train back to Ford Forge after the engine had changed ends. What an unexpected find!

We wandered over to the working corn mill as Nicole wanted to purchase flour for bread making. We entered the gift shop, but it was also possible to tour the building which has housed the present incarnation of the mill since 1830. Local historians reckon milling has taken place on this site for over 700 years. Closed in 1957, the corn mill was saved from demolition in 1972 and placed in the care of a trust. Opening as museum three years later, the mill educates visitors about the industrial past of the area as well as producing ten tons of flour every year. The historic Ford & Etal Estates (united in 1908) cover 14000 acres and contain 31 tenant farms. 600 people live within the boundaries and there are many tourist attractions within the two villages and wider grounds. A visitors centre next to the mill outlined the history of the area and provided information leaflets. The ruined Etal Castle was visible from the train ride. Abandoned since 1748, it was sacked in 1514 by the invading army of King James IV of Scotland. This disastrous campaign saw Scotland heavily defeated at the Battle of Flodden. James remains the last British monarch to die in battle, just a couple of miles from where we stood. We had previously visited the battlefield a few years back, on a return trip from England. We will definitely return to Ford & Etal in the future. The area is close enough to the A1 to make it a viable detour when driving south. Up at Berwick, we crossed the border and paused for lunch at the viewpoint. A family were posing for photographs at the sign and Nicole offered to take a group shot. It turned out they were from Germany. Die Welt ist ganz klein! Entering East Lothian, we turned off the main road near Dunbar to follow a coastal loop. We chanced upon a smokehouse and bought some goodies for future consumption. The next stop was at a car park with a fine view of the Bass Rock - a huge volcanic plug with sheer slopes standing two miles offshore. The rock is home to the world's largest Northern gannet colony and can be seen from many points on the Firth of Forth. Passing through North Berwick and Gullane, we pulled over at the premises of the SOC (Scottish Ornithologists Club) in Aberlady. Admission is free to all and there were two exhibitions of bird art on display in the public galleries. The woman behind the counter suggested we stop at Musselburgh Scrapes on the way home. Five new hides have recently opened on this patch of reclaimed land at the point where the River Esk flows into the Forth. The new development has a fully accessible tarmac path encircling the wetlands, pebbled beaches and other habitat within. Fencing and a moat have been installed to keep dogs out of the bird territory. The project has been carved out of the ash lagoons that previously occupied the site and the priority is to attract roosting waders. Public access was only recently granted and the land was gifted to the local council by Scottish Power, who created the lagoon landscape with ash from the now-demolished Cockenzie Power Station.

We joined the Edinburgh bypass, edging ever closer towards home. One mission remained, however. IKEA has a store near Loanhead and we have been regular customers over the years. Nicole wanted to have a look at the computer desks. It's often better to see them built up and actually sit at the furniture before parting with any money. Dropping in around teatime is a risky business though. No matter how much willpower you think you are capable of exerting, the lure of the café is strong and you always find yourself drawn there. I'm a great believer in trying different dishes on the menu of a restaurant you frequent. IKEA is the one exception. It's always a plate of meatball, chips and peas, with a slice of daim cake for dessert. Duly fed and watered, we passed through the emporium downstairs, managing to make just minor purchases. We were home 45 minutes later. A great little weekend trip that the weather tried to dampen, but couldn't. Learning about wildlife and stumbling upon a steam railway. Not bad at all.

Forfar Nature Reserves

I have made a few trips up to Angus recently. Nicole sometimes works in Dundee and I take the opportunity to push further afield with the car, whenever I'm free to do so. Just east of Forfar, lie two nature reserves and I paid them a visit on successive Fridays.

The 100-acre site at Murton Farm was created within the grounds of a disused quarry and is run by a charitable organisation. The land was originally drained and developed for agriculture in the 18th century and flax for local mills was grown. The farm later produced grain and potatoes, along with rearing beef cattle. A quarrying operation began in 1990 and lasted for a decade. The area was then landscaped and a nature reserve created with a dual educational and environmental purpose. The animals live around the central pond and include rare poultry breeds, donkeys, ferrets and guinea pigs. A nominal fee is payable for entry to the farm and the kids can play on trampolines and in the sand pits. There is also a tearoom serving a range of home cooking and baking. The walking trail around the nature reserve is free to explore and a complete circuit is just over a mile. If visiting, note that the car-park gates are locked daily at 4.30pm. The territory is a mix of wetland, wildflower meadow and woodland. Three small lochs and the wetland area can be viewed from the bird hides and there is ample seating around the path network. I had stopped in Forfar for a traditional bridie and ate it for lunch before walking the short distance to the first hide. The wetlands were inhabited by mallards, geese and swans. Nothing unusual there, but it was nice to see them going about their business in a quiet spot. Walking past Buddy's Loch and Home Loch, I checked out another hide before heading into the woodland. Birch, willow and rowan are the most abundant trees. It was threatening to rain and I hurried past North Loch and into the meadow. Four sections of grassland were sown with wildflowers in 2003 and, where possible, native seed was used. The meadow is managed each winter by cutting different parts. The aim is to continually improve and extend the habitat but - as a text panel pointed out - this is a notoriously difficult process. A number of management strategies are required to have any hope of success. Britain has lost something in the region of 98% of its wild meadows in recent decades and it will clearly be a mammoth task trying to redress that balance, even on a small scale. I wandered over to a curious bulwark with drilled holes.

This turned out to be a sand martin nesting wall. Erected in 2006, it was funded by the Scottish Executive, with Aggregate Industries (who had run the quarry) supplying the materials and heavy machinery. Four feet of foundation was poured and the project required substantial shuttering to retain 16 tons of concrete in three layers. The wall is an impressive 12 feet in height and measures 38 feet across. Hundreds of tons of sand were packed behind in order to accommodate the sand martin burrows. Tunnels in the concrete slope upwards to prevent water reaching the nesting chambers. The birds can enter and excavate their own quarters in the sand behind the face of the wall. Both sexes work on this task and the nest is lined with plant matter and feathers. Sand martins are agile flyers and feed on invertebrates over water. They arrive on Scottish shores in April and leave for Southern Africa by the end of August. 400 breeding pairs were counted at Murton in a 2010 survey. Breeding starts in mid May and continues into June, with three to seven eggs laid. If a brood is reduced due to poor weather conditions, the female leaves the remaining chicks for the male to rear and moves in with another partner to try again immediately. The first male is then free to try his luck with another female once the young have fledged. It's the birdie version of the swinging sixties! Chicks are mature enough to fend for themselves after just 19 days. I witnessed a few residents flying in and out of the wall but taking a photo was nigh impossible, due to the rapidity of their coming and going. At this point the rain came on and I took shelter in a conveniently sited observation hut. The shower showed no signs of stopping and I had to bite the bullet and dash back to the car. It did ease off somewhat and I didn't get a soaking. I passed the tearoom and also noticed a large tepee which can be hired for a day. Murton is a pleasant place to visit if passing by or visiting Forfar town. The following week I pushed a little further along the same road to Balgavies Loch.

We had been here a couple of years ago and had spotted an osprey high up in the trees. I hoped for more of the same today. The reserve is run by the Scottish Wildlife Trust and the inland loch is surrounded by reedbeds and willow carr, attracting water rail, great crested grebe and a number of wintering wildfowl, including goldeneye, teal and wigeon. The reserve is also a haven for red squirrel and features an osprey nest. The first recorded hatching occurred in 2012 and a trio of chicks have ringed by experts this year. The news delighted local wildlife enthusiasts, who had rescued a young osprey from the loch the previous summer. Searing heat caused a supporting branch to crack and the nest collapsed. The reserve warden fed the youngster on a diet of sea bass and constructed a makeshift nest from an old potato basket. The chick survived to fledge and depart the country on the arduous journey south that all ospreys undertake. The adult breeding pair returned to the loch this year and everything has worked out well so far. The reintroduction of the osprey has been a great success in Scotland and this magnificent bird of prey has now spread to England and Wales. Around 350 pairs are based across the entire island. I entered the small hide and instantly spotted an adult bird on a high branch, the same position we observed on our previous visit. Another birdwatcher was present and he pointed out the two chicks in the nest and another one on a lower part of the tree. This bold youngster had been making a few test flights while the siblings remained in the nest. However, the flapping of wings from the unfledged pair indicated it wouldn't be long until they were airbourne for the first time. I had an excellent view of the activity through my binoculars and then I spotted the other adult returning to the nest with a fish in its talons. The female parent is usually the first to depart, while the male hangs around a little longer, making sure the young birds are able to hunt indendently. Dad then leaves on the perilous migration, followed shortly thereafter by the young, guided purely by instinct. No need from them to ask Siri.

Ospreys spend the winter on the west coast of Africa. They migrate alone and stop at several feeding sites along the way, sometimes for a week or so. There are several potential hazards: exhaustion, habitat loss, persecution and the grisly fate of becoming entangled in fishing nets. I spent a good half hour in the hide, also noting the small birds buzzing around the feeder just outside. Let's hope the ospreys return next year and raise more offspring. Nests sometimes fail but this bird has bucked the trend of declining numbers and is a welcome sight on our large bodies of water. I had also planned to walk the mile and a half circuit around the loch. This allowed me to get a little closer to the tree favoured by the ospreys and I was able to take a few decent photographs, whereas in the hide I'd been right at the limit of my zoom. The path then climbed away from the water, bringing me to another car park before returning to shore level. As I rounded the far end of the loch, I was treated to the rather comical sight of a Highland cow paddling while geese swam by. I already knew the path on the far side occupied the course of the old Perth to Forfar railway but I didn't expect to find the remains of a station. Auldbar Road was a halt on the Arbroath and Forfar Railway, opened as far back as 1838. Part of this line - including Auldbar Road - was absorbed into the trunk route between Perth and Kinnaber Junction near Montrose, the gateway to Aberdeen. This high-speed corridor closed in 1967 but passenger services at Auldbar Road had ceased 11 years earlier. Today the platforms can easily be spotted, covered by a light layer of vegetation. A brick building survives by the road bridge. Beyond stands the station house and signal box which are now privately owned. I had a fun time poking around the station remains before taking the path along the old trackbed, back towards the bird hide.

It may seem hard to believe, but I was walking along the old West Coast Main Line. Nowadays we consider this key route to start at London and end in Glasgow, while the east coast counterpart runs all the way to Aberdeen. But until 1967, you could work your way up the western side of the country as far as Forfar, then on to Kinnaber Junction - the famous meeting point from which one set of tracks proceeded towards the Granite City. Indeed, a well-publicised "race to the north" was conducted between two trains in 1895, with the west emerging victorious. I imagine it was decided in the 1960s that only one route to Aberdeen made sense, but it meant towns such as Forfar were cut off from the national network completely. Axing railways on such a grand scale would be unthinkable today, but they were seen as yesterday's technology in the post-war period and the decaying network needed huge investment to bring it up to modern standards. The prevailing political mood was that some lines had to go. The path was in a shallow cutting which obscured views of the nearby loch. I did however pass reasonably close to the osprey nest and a couple of guys had moved round to this point from the hide. Back at the car, I headed back down the road to collect Nicole. From the M90, we cut across to Dollar where culinary delights awaited. Troy-Ann's Caribbean Kitchen opens on selected days and serves a range of takeaway Jamaican cuisine. I opted for the goat curry while Nicole ordered fried chicken. Being less than half an hour from home, the foil containers kept our food warm and we ate heartily.