Glasgow northern nature reserves

I constructed a Glasgow walking expedition after noticing the close proximity of Dawsholm Park and Possil Marsh in the northern part of the city. Both are officially designated as nature reserves. The Western Necropolis lay in between and I also included a stretch of the Forth & Clyde Canal in the route plan. It was a sunny Saturday morning as a boarded an early bus in my home village, which took an hour to reach the city centre.

Glasgow has a great suburban rail network, containing more track miles than any other city outside London. Many of the routes are electrified and it's easy to reach the outlying areas in a short space of time. A few decades ago, the Strathclyde Partnership for Transport (SPT) was given autonomy to run all local rail services within Greater Glasgow. They even produced a map in the same style as the London tube network. Other regions of the UK to be granted similar powers were Merseyside and Tyneside. The move enabled local transport chiefs to promote and develop the system within their own backyard, allocating funding appropriately. All Scottish domestic services now operate under the Scotrail franchise, which to its credit has pursued projects involving the creation of new and reopened infrastructure. From Queen Street Station, I took a train out to Kelvindale, which cost just £2.70 for an off-peak return. You can certainly zip around Glasgow at weekends for very little money. The halt at Kelvindale is situated on an old freight branch (dismantled in 1988) and it first saw trains in 2005 as part of the Maryhill extension, which fed into the re-establishment of the Larkhall connection. I got my bearings and arrived at Dawsholm Park within 10 minutes. Opened in 1922 and now designated as a nature reserve, large parts of this 81-acre site have been deliberately left in a wild state and I soon encountered a flower meadow criss-crossed with paths. I found a bench to apply sun cream. It was a scorcher and I had been burned the week before at school sports day, probably because I spent long periods standing in roughly the same spot as a finishing line judge. I would be constantly on the move today but I didn't want to take any chances. I hadn't planned to explore the whole park with its extensive network of woodland trails, merely cut across a corner en route to the River Kelvin. Glasgow's second watercourse borders a third of the Dawsholm's perimeter and there is only one bridge. I crossed over and made my way up to Maryhill Road. A pleasant footpath took me past a sports complex and into Maryhill Park. I then had a spell of pavement walking before entering the Western Necropolis - actually four cemeteries in one. Lambhill opened in 1881, followed by the Western Necropolis and St Kentigern's (Roman Catholic) the following year. Over 1000 war dead from across the Commonwealth lie in these interconnected sites. Finally, the Glasgow Hebrew Burial Ground was founded in 1989.

The vast graveyard was immaculately tended and I always enjoy a peaceful walk in this type of environment. I navigated by dead reckoning towards the Lambhill gates and crossed straight over the A897 into Possil Marsh. This urban nature reserve has a shallow freshwater loch surrounded by marsh, swamp and fen, with areas of willow scrub and grassland. The marshy areas support rare plants and are of special scientific interest. The wider habitat is an important staging post for warblers and waterfowl during the spring and autumn migration seasons. Breeding birds found on the reserve include reed bunting, moorhen and the rather secretive water rail. Possil Marsh is a small surviving part of an extensive system of lochs and wetlands that once covered large parts of Central Scotland, before being drained for agricultural use. The reserve has been protected since the 1950s and is now looked after by the Scottish Wildlife Trust. One main path leads around the perimeter although there is a rough track that brings you closer to the loch. I investigated this route but could only proceed so far until the foliage became dense and the ground boggy. I caught glimpses of the reed beds surrounding the loch before returning to the primary path. One unexpected find was an inscribed smooth boulder commemorating the approximate location of a meteorite strike in 1804. The falling space debris apparently created a hole 18 inches deep and the material is now on display in Glasgow's Hunterian Museum. The Forth & Clyde Canal runs along the eastern edge of Possil Marsh and I exited on to the towpath. After half a mile, I cut back into the reserve, taking a path that gained height and allowed me to see the loch in the centre of the landscape. I also came across a copy of a Roman distance stone, marking the line of the Antonine Wall - the turf frontier that once cut through central Scotland. A sculpture of a legionnaire's head stood nearby, looking out over the Kelvin Valley, at one time the edge of an empire. The original purpose of the distance stones was to record the length of the construction project. The route of the wall passes through five modern local authorities and a replica stone is sited in each council territory. The original Glasgow block was unearthed by a farmer in 1965 while ploughing and it too now resides in the Hunterian Museum, which has an excellent gallery dedicated to this short-lived 37-mile fortification.

I retraced my steps and left the canal at the next road overbridge. A 15-minute walk brought me to Possilpark & Parkhouse railway station, located four stops closer to Glasgow Queen Street on the line I had travelled out on. I had a half hour wait until the next service back to the city centre and relaxed in the sunshine. Another fine day spent exploring a few hidden corners of old Glasgow.

Strathpeffer trip

I always have the first Monday in June off work and we decided to book a long weekend up in the Highlands. After searching Air B&B, we plumped for a two-person self-catering unit near Strathpeffer - a town I fancied visiting. It also lies within easy striking distance of Embo, the coastal village where my folks owned a static caravan for many years. A nostalgic walk along the beach was part of the weekend itinerary. It was late afternoon on a warm Friday when we began the long drive north. Nicole collected me from work after I had helped the maths department win a bronze medal in the relay race on school sports day.

We stocked up on provisions at Asda then headed towards Perth to join the A9. The project to dual the entire road as far as Inverness is woefully behind schedule (even allowing for the pandemic) and was supposed to be completed by 2025. Only a couple of easy sections have so far been added and a lot of major engineering challenges lie ahead. It took three hours to reach Inverness and we then crossed the Kessock Bridge across the Beauly Firth before branching towards Dingwall, the county town of Ross-shire. Strathpeffer is a Victorian spa resort around five miles further on and our accommodation was located in an outlying village called Achterneed, near Castle Leod. No formal check-in was necessary as the code to the key safe had already been texted to us. We were in the upper part of an extension to a family home. Our small balcony had a table and chairs, with nice views over the surrounding countryside. The apartment was perfect for a short stay and I would happily book it again. We were up early the next day planning a schedule. Castle Leod - seat of Clan Mackenzie - wasn't available to view as they only hold public open days on selected summer weekends. It made sense to head into Strathpeffer after breakfast and that brings me to the reason I wanted to come here. Was it to partake of the healing waters? Good shout, but unfortunately the historic pump room is now closed to visitors. The smart money would have been on a railway connection and indeed the town was formerly served by a short branch line that diverged just beyond Dingwall from the main route running to Kyle of Lochalsh on the west coast. Opened in 1885, the branch initially proved highly popular as Victorian tourists flocked to the area in search of magic cures. The new station in Strathpeffer town centre was far more practical than the former facility of the same name located two miles away on the main line, at the top of a sleep slope. Grand villas were built and new hotels opened as Strathpeffer prospered. Eventually the spa craze died down and by the end of WW2, the local railway was struggling to compete with improved road links. The final passenger train ran in 1946 and goods traffic ceased five years later. Fortunately the impressive station building - with its glazed gabled canopy supported by 12 ornate cast iron columns - escaped demolition and a restoration project began in 1979. Today, the station houses the Highland Museum of childhood, a café and various craft outlets. We rolled up shortly after 10am but the museum wasn't due to open for another hour. I had a wander up and down the lengthy platform and dropped down to the grassy trackbed. Various information panels told the story of the railway.

It transpired the original intention was to bring the Inverness to Kyle of Lochalsh line right through the heart of Strathpeffer but local landowner Sir William Mackenzie objected vehemently to the prospect of trains passing through his Highland estate. The ensuing legal battle halted the construction process and the railway company diverted the line to the north, which led to the unsatisfactory arrangement of Strathpeffer having a station well outside the town boundaries. When the branch line was laid, the original Strathpeffer halt was renamed Achterneed, which of course was the place we had just spent the night. It explained why I thought I had heard a train from the bedroom. I also read about an interesting development for local walkers. The Peffery Way is under construction and will link Strathpeffer to Dingwall, using much of the old branch line formation. Surfaced paths are in place at both ends and the middle section awaits the outcome of discussions with the relevant landowners. Apparently 90% of this stretch has been verbally greenlit and the Scottish Government has granted a formal Path Order. One for future consideration! We decided to nip up to the town centre for a look around. The sun was shining but the streets were eerily quiet. Perhaps the tourist season hadn't quite begun. We passed several splendid residential properties and the skyline was dominated by the Highland Hotel, sitting in an elevated position with a grand fountain in the front gardens. The building was completed in 1896 and originally served as the Station Hotel. Close by stood the Strathpeffer Pavilion, an entertainments venue opened way back in 1881. After more than a century of ups and downs, the building was bought by Highland Council and fully refurbished in the early years of the 21st century. Now owned by a community trust, the Pavilion offers a varied programme of events. We spotted a poster for Scottish "pop-up" Opera - shortened versions of Die Fledermaus and Eugene Onegin performed in quick succession. On the way back to the station, we took a path that loops by the Eagle Stone. This ancient Pictish carving depicts a horseshoe above an eagle and is reckoned to be around 1500 years old. The stone stands inside a small fenced enclosure at the edge of a field on the lower slopes of a hill. It is part of the Highland Pictish Trail.

Between the years 300 and 900, the Picts controlled large parts of what we now call Scotland. Unlike the Romans, they didn't leave written records and historians are left with the difficult task of deciphering the meaning behind the symbols the Picts used in their artwork. The Eagle Stone was apparently moved to its current site in 1411 and has now been set in concrete. We soon arrived at the railway station and I wondered if Strathpeffer would now be a better-known destination, had the main line been routed here as planned. The station site functioned as a coal depot following closure and there was an upholstery business within the actual building. Following restoration, a cinema was opened and this space is now occupied by the Highland Museum of Childhood. The doors were open and admission was a modest £5. The museum began life in 1993 and the first objects to come into its care were 800 dolls and other toys, donated by local collector Angela Kellie. She had set up the Strathpeffer Doll Museum in a town-centre cottage back in 1985. The larger premises at the railway station offered a new home for Angela's dolls following her retirement. Since then, the Highland Museum of Childhood has expanded its exhibits and now showcases treasures and toys from the past 150 years. I enjoyed browsing the galleries and was happy to have made a financial contributions towards the wider station complex. It was time to move on and we drove up to Loch Kinellan, just beyond the edge of town. It features an artificial island which is actually a floating Iron Age dwelling known as a crannog. Excavations carried out from 1914 to 1916 showed that, structurally, the island appears to consist of three layers while the base is constructed from logs. Digging various pits and trenches yielded animal and fish bones, objects of iron, wood, stone and leather, and a carved ivory gaming piece. The island was used as a kitchen garden during the 19th century but is now completely overgrown. We followed a gravel path along the loch shore and made full use of the excellent bird spotting opportunities. Out on the water were tufted ducks and coots, the latter shepherding tiny chicks. Nothing unusual so far, but suddenly Nicole noticed a flash of colour that prompted rapid investigation. It was a grebe - but not as we normally know it. We were looking at the attractive plumage of the Slavonian grebe, the red and golden hues glistening in the sun. Feeding on fish and insect larvae, this exotic bird is a rare spot with just 30 breeding pairs in the UK. A new one for Nicole's life list and I managed to snap a serviceable photo right on the limits of my zoom. We followed the footpath to the opposite end of the loch before turning around. The more mundane little grebe (or dabchick) was foraging in the reeds by the water's edge.

Lunchtime was approaching and we drove eight miles to a village called Muir of Ord, situated on the Black Isle (actually a peninsula). Nicole had been tipped off about an excellent bakery that had a dining area. Jeni Ianetta - a Dundonian of Italian descent - set up the award-winning Bad Girls Bakery after becoming disillusioned with her corporate marketing career. She penned a cookbook during the pandemic which has proved popular. Our morning activities had created quite an appetite and we decided to sample both the sweet and savoury wares. Very enjoyable, and the background music was superb. We had a brief stroll around the village centre, which hosted major cattle fairs in the 19th century. This tradition continues to this day in the form of the Black Isle Show - Scotland's largest single-day agricultural event, which attracts up to 30,000 people. Muir of Ord is also home to the last remaining malt whisky (Singleton) produced on the Black Isle. The A9 passed through the village until the Kessock Bridge was constructed in 1982. Today the village attracts the leisure motorist as Muir of Ord is situated on the North Coast 500 route. This 516-mile circular drive proceeds north from Inverness and runs around the Highland coastline before cutting inland back to the starting point. Launched in 2015, the "Scottish Route 66" has increased visitor numbers and generated welcome revenue but is not without controversy. The heavier volumes of traffic cause damage to the road surfaces as well as congestion in the more remote areas, where single-track sections are still in place. These roads were built to link rural communities and are not really designed for processions of campervans and mini-buses. Irresponsible parking and waste dumping have also caused issues for local communities. Hopefully long-term solutions can be found as the NC500 is now a world-famous scenic drive and of increasing importance to the national economy. I've probably done most of the individual parts already. Perhaps one day I'll tackle the whole circuit, outside the main season.

I fancied nipping down to Beauly, just a couple of miles away in the County of Inverness. We parked up beside a shinty field just as the crowd was departing. I've yet to see a match in progress. I wanted to check out the ruined Beauly Priory but first we popped into the adjacent up-market shopping complex known as Beauly Old School. Located within the classrooms of a Victorian school building, a wide range of goods are on offer: jewellery, ceramics, leather goods, clothing, pottery, candles and toiletries to name just a handful. There is also an entire room devoted to books and I picked up a copy of Rory Stewart's account of walking the Scottish English border with his elderly father. Stewart's family hail from Perthshire and he became well known as a Conservative politician during the protracted Brexit negotiations. A voice of reason in a party becoming increasingly dominated by hard-line separatist views, Stewart warned against uncoupling the UK customs from Europe and pursuing an isolationist stance. As we all know, Boris Johnson became PM and controversially "got Brexit done" but Stewart had departed the cabinet by then in protest against Johnson's shenanigans. Stewart previously worked all over the world in diplomatic roles. He has published other books about his epic treks across countries and continents. A well travelled man! While standing for the position of London Mayor, he naturally planned his campaign trail around a walk through all 32 administrative boroughs of the capital. Back in Beauly, the sun was baking hot and it was a welcome relief to take advantage of the shade offered by the high walls of the priory church. Founded around 1230 next to a series of bends in the River Beauly, the priory provided its inhabitants with a quiet cloistered existence for 300 years until the monks' way of life was brought to an end by the reformation, after which a graveyard for local people was established on the site. The building fell into disuse and lead was removed from the roof. Some of the stonework was transported to Inverness by Oliver Cromwell's forces in order to build a citadel. The only part of the complex in anything like complete form today is the north transept. This was rebuilt in 1901 to serve as a mausoleum for the Mackenzie family. The priory has been in the care of the state since 1913 and is now looked after by Historic Environment Scotland. The next stop on the agenda was the hamlet of Redcastle on the Cromarty Firth - around eight miles away. A short descent down a single-track road led us to a small parking area overlooking the water. The settlement was immaculately kept and featured an eye-catching Victorian postbox set into a rustic wall. Having spotted the castle remains through the trees on the way in, we crossed a stone bridge to enter the old estate.

Constructed in 1179 as the Castle of Edradour, Redcastle came into the possession of the Douglas family until confiscation by the crown in 1455. Mary Queen of Scots visited in 1562 and, eight years later, the castle was granted to the Mackenzies of Kintail. The present three-storey L-plan dates from 1641 and the red rubble stone gave the castle its popular name. The building survived an attack by covenanter troops and passed to the Grant family. Colonel Hugh Baillie bought Redcastle in 1838 and commissioned several modifications. The property was occupied for the next 100 years until the RAF requisitioned the building during WW2. It was returned in a poor state of repair and the emergence of dry rot prompted the owners to abandon the castle in the 1950s. It has gradually deteriorated ever since and is now a crumbling shell within an otherwise well-tended estate. Security fencing keeps visitors clear of the actual structure, which has been declared dangerous. I was able to scramble down a slope and follow a rough path to take a picture with the sun illuminating the castle. Like many stately homes, Redcastle was built in an elevated position with stunning views across the local landscape - in this case the rocky Cromarty Firth. However, the restoration costs would be massive and I also read the current landowner is not looking to sell. We had a rest in the castle grounds and a couple of dog walkers wandered by. We decided it was time to head back to the apartment for dinner. Having the facilities to cook your own food certainly keeps costs down but we also like to support the local economy while up north. I relaxed on our little balcony and heard a train rumble by. I deduced the railway lay just behind the trees as the clickety-clack had been fairly loud and I also clearly heard the beeping of level crossing barriers. I figured the minor road that led into Achterneed must cross the railway just a short walk from where I sat. The next day's itinerary was a trip up to Sutherland to visit our old stomping grounds of Dornoch and Embo. It was dry and cloudy as we bombed up the A9, the traffic significantly quieter in the northern stretch above Inverness. Rolling into Dornoch - the county town of Sutherland - we found a parking spot and made a beeline for the Cocoa Mountain. In the days when my folks had a caravan in this area, Nicole and I would use it as a base for day trips and a favourite run was up to the northwest corner of Scotland. Durness is generally regarded as the most far-flung settlement in that area but the craft village of Balnakeil lies just beyond. Various businesses trade inside the old M.O.D. early-warning station, built in the 1950s when the threat of a nuclear attack was at its height.

As the fears subsided, the military huts at Balnakeil were converted into artisan retail units, aiming to attract visitors to the this remote outpost. Cocoa Mountain set up shop here in 2006 with the simple aim of producing the most delicious, fresh, and innovative chocolates on the planet (their words). We travelled up a few times to sample their truffles, washed down with a mug of steaming hot chocolate. Happy days! The business subsequently expanded and opened outlets in Dornoch and Auchterarder (now closed). We took advantage today of a combi-deal offering a large hot chocolate with six truffles on the side. A true breakfast of champions. Nicole asked the waiter where the products were made these days and apparently they now have a factory in Perth. I would assume they have many online customers to satisfy. We wandered around the town centre and popped into a tweed and wool shop, only for me to emerge looking something like Fife's answer to Fred Dibnah! Yes, I purchased a flat cup / bunnet and it fitted snugly. Something to wear when the summer starts to cool. The bookshop was directly opposite and we were surprised to see it was open, as an online search had suggested otherwise. The owner said she had decided to trial Sunday opening and we had a nice chat. She spoke with a London accent but her great grandfather had been the pharmacist here in Dornoch and his home had passed down the generations. I spotted a photo of Gilbert the cat above the counter. Gilbert was a local legend and always used to be in the shop, often sleeping in his basket, which sported a "not for sale" sign. I took a copy of the image and emailed it to my mum. Nice to know his spirit lives on. The shop is well stocked and there's no way I could visit without buying anything. I found a copy of Black Gold by Jeremy Paxman - an account of how modern Britain was built upon the coal industry. The book has received rave reviews and mining is embedded in my family history with my grandfathers and great grandfathers all serving time down the pit. Yorkshireman Paxman became well known as a TV political journalist, acerbically holding politicians to account on the Newsnight programme. He also hosted the popular quiz show University Challenge, a role he recently relinquished due to the onset of Parkinson's disease. Paxo is now facing the same struggles as my own father and we wish him well. Nicole bought a book about the birds of Sutherland, which counted as a bleated birthday gift. Having revisited our old Dornoch haunts, we drove along to the coastal village of Embo and into Grannies Heilan' Hame holiday park. The family static caravan stood here for many years. Nicole and I had several happy holidays in this beautiful coastal location. We made our way down to the stunning beach.

The golden sands were immaculate and we headed towards Loch Fleet - a sea inlet a mile and a half away. After a while, I felt my legs begin to protest. Although the distance was easily inside my comfort zone, the soft sand required a different combination of muscle use than what is the case upon a firm surface. The last time we did this walk, we saw plover chicks on the fringes of the dunes but there wasn't any special bird activity on display today. Upon reaching the sea loch, we found a nice flat rock to sit upon while eating our sandwiches. Then it was back towards the campsite and a quick inspection of the rockpools. A few holidaymakers ambled by but the place wasn't particularly busy. Back at the entertainments complex, just a dozen people were taking part in the bingo (although it was the middle of the afternoon). My parents vacated Embo because the site policy didn't allow vans older than 15 years. At their stage in life, it wasn't feasible to purchase a newer model so they decamped to the Angus coast and enjoyed a few more years of beach holidays at Monifieth. We left Grannies and turned down the single-track road to the car park by Loch Fleet. A group of seals were slumbering on a sandbank and an osprey flew overhead. Nicole chatted to a Welsh woman who was doing the NC500 route with her dog. We had one last mission for today. From Embo beach, we had photographed the striking lighthouse at Portmahomack on the other side of the Dornoch Firth. We decided to go for a closer look on the way back to our apartment and cut off the A9 just south of Tain. It was a 10-mile drive to the tip of the peninsula where the lighthouse stood. From the car park, a path led through the heather (with orchids growing on either side) to the rocky coastline. The official name of the lighthouse is Tarbat Ness and at 41 metres it is the second-tallest land-based example in the country. Designed by Robert Stevenson (who else?), it began its operational life in 1830, although the distinctive red bands weren't added until 1915. Since the late 80s, all lighthouses in Scotland have been automated and the role of the lighthouse keeper consigned to history. An annual inspection is the only time nowadays that a human being scales the tower at Tarbat Ness. Back in Dingwall, we stopped at Tesco and football fans were in high spirits. I correctly deduced that Ross County had come back from the dead against Partick Thistle to retain their Premier League status. Later in the evening, I wandered up to Achterneed level crossing - also the site of the original Strathpeffer station - but was unable to get within 50 yards of the site as maintenance work was in progress.

We checked out at 10am the following morning and had a range of stopovers planned for the journey home. South of Inverness, we turned off the main road and drove eight miles to a small RSPB reserve at Loch Ruthven. This remote and tranquil loch is surrounded by ancient woodland and green hills. The water is fringed with sedge beds, making it one of the best places in the UK to see breeding Slavonian grebes and black-throated divers. The hide was located a quarter mile from the car-park and we made our way through the dense forest. I learned that the entire UK breeding population of Slavonian grebes are located within a 40-mile radius of Inverness, with half of them residing here at Loch Ruthven. They first nested in 1909 and feed upon the abundant supplies of aquatic invertebrates and small fish in the quiet loch. In common with many other species, numbers have declined in recent years and we can only hope the population can at least be stabilised. A protected environment such as Loch Ruthven should certainly help. In late spring, the grebes perform an elaborate mating ritual They gather plants from the loch and face each other, as if about to start a dance. Rising up to stand like a penguin, they dash along the surface of the water side by side. Certainly a more imaginative approach to reproduction that what the mallard can muster! The grebe's nest is a partially floating structure, usually anchored to the sedge stems and the chicks often ride upon their parents' backs after hatching. We observed the adult birds through binoculars and the cloudy day was enlivened by one of them displaying its colourful crest. Back on the A9, we stopped at Aviemore to grab a snack before driving across to the Scottish Osprey Centre at Loch Garten. Part of a 54 square mile territory managed by the RSPB, Loch Garten played a key role in the history of national conservation. A pair of ospreys arrived from Scandinavia and nested here in the 1950s after many years of absence in Scotland due to ceaseless persecution. A security operation had to be mounted as egg collecting was still a popular hobby. Happily, the project was a success and the ospreys have bred regularly in the area since 1959, although there have been times when the nest remained unoccupied or chicks failed to fledge. We have dropped into the visitors centre a handful of times over the years and another attraction is the presence of the crested tits in the surrounding pine forest.

Scopes were set up for the public to view the osprey family and an added bonus was the webcam footage of a goshawk nest in the vicinity. The RSPB don't divulge the exact location of this fearsome raptor as population numbers are limited. The goshawk is spectacularly adept at weaving between trees while hunting. Persecution remains a problem, particularly near land managed for game shooting. Anyone caught killing those magnificent birds of prey should simply be thrown in jail. As we were leaving, a red squirrel put in an appearance. This native creature appears to be slowly spreading, after losing much of its territory to the imported grey. Some of these Victorian naturalists and botanists have a lot to answer for! Our next port of call was the Killiecrankie visitors centre, primarily to use the toilet but we also hoped to catch a glimpse of the nuthatch on the feeders. Located along the winding road that connects Pitlochry and Blair Atholl in Highland Perthshire, the centre sits atop the stunning wooded gorge containing the River Garry. The history of Killiecrankie is intertwined with the first Jacobite rising. The Old Pretender's troops secured their only victory of the campaign about a mile north of where we stood. It was however a costly success as the rebels had lost their charismatic leader "Bonnie Dundee" along with a third of their men. A government soldier - Donald McBane - is said to have leapt 18 feet high above the Garry to escape his pursuers and tourists now flock to this destination. We had come to Killiecrankie on our first post-lockdown road trip and explored the walking trails. The centre was closed on that occasion and today they were just locking up as we rolled in. No chance of an ice cream, but the nuthatch was duly spotted and we decided on a whim continue along to the Queen's View at Loch Tummel. The Highlands of Scotland do not begin when you pass a road sign welcoming you to the administrative territory of Highland Council. The true region is defined by the boundary fault running from Helensburgh on the west coast to Stonehaven on the east. This divides Scotland into two distinct geographical zones and the Pass of Killiecrankie sits within this meeting of two landforms. The pass is renowned for its autumn colours and leaping salmon. A mecca of flora adorns the slopes. The Queen's View complex was closed for the day but you can still use the car-park and wander up to the vantage point. On the two previous occasions I'd been here, the vista on display was a misty one. With the sun out in force today, would I finally be able to properly appreciate the beauty? Well, sort of. The longitudinal view along the valley containing Loch Tunnel was difficult to admire due to the dazzling rays. I was however treated to the full spectrum of colours when looking at the eastern rump. A definite improvement, but there is still unfinished business here.

It was early evening as we approached Perth. The commuter traffic had died down and we cruised through the lengthy roadworks without delay. The carriageways are being re-aligned to accommodate the Cross Tay Link Road - a project involving the construction of a new bridge over the River Tay and six kilometres of tarmac linking the A9 to the A93 and A94. All designed to improve flow around the greater Perth area. Ironically, the current disruption on our main north road is being caused at a location where there is already several miles of dual carriageway. Let's hope these bulldozers are dispatched northwards once the Fair City is sorted. It had been a most enjoyable long weekend in the Highlands. Familiar places revisited and new things discovered. Some railway history, and the odd freaky doll.

Walking to Leith Shore

The 13-mile Water of Leith Trail ends at the historic Leith Shore, now a thriving leisure quarter. On the three previous occasions I've done the complete walk, it was a case of being too weary to properly explore the Shore area, instead seeking out a pub or café in order to flop into a seat and rest up, before taking a bus back to the city centre.

Today Nicole and I were tackling a popular stretch of the walkway - from the charming Dean Village down to Leith. At around three miles, we could stroll at our leisure and hopefully observe some wildlife on the way. I have written extensively about this part of the trail in other posts, so I won't go into any great historical detail here about the sights encountered. It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon as we boarded a bus for Edinburgh at Ferrytoll Park & Ride. A "driverless" electric vehicle pulled up at an adjacent stance as we waited. The total number of passengers onboard numbered four. The service has been billed as the first full-sized fleet of buses to function in an autonomous manner and provide a regular timetable. Operated by Stagecoach on a two-year trial basis, the buses run from Ferrytoll to Edinburgh Park Station - a distance of 14 miles. Almost the entire journey takes place on the motorway and the speed limit has been pegged at 50mph. A human back-up driver sits behind the wheel at all times and an additional member of staff - known as a bus captain - sells tickets and deals with passenger queries. An interesting project and one I plan to experience. However, I remain convinced that we are decades away from fully-autonomous vehicles roaming free on all roads, rather than following pre-selected routes with rigidly defined lanes, well away from town centres. We disembarked from our non-robotic bus near Dean Bridge and walked down Bell's Brae to the historic urban village. Several listed buildings are tucked away in this quiet oasis beneath the throbbing approach road to the heart of Edinburgh. We strolled around to sample the atmosphere then joined the river path, almost immediately spotting a dipper paddling in the water. We progressed downstream past St Bernard's Well and climbed to street level in Stockbridge. A busy open-air food market was in full swing and we checked out the wares. There were also a few craft stalls. Needing only a light snack, we each purchased a vegan savoury potato roll which topped up the tank. Moving on, we returned to the riverside and passed the Grange Cricket Ground - home of the Scottish national side. The path took us by the Stockbridge Colonies - affordable housing for skilled tradesmen erected back in Victorian times. A short detour was required, due to a bridge being inaccessible. As we returned to the regular route, the serious birding action began.

A mallard and her ducklings swam by. The fluffy youngsters were enjoying the afternoon swim and spread out in all directions. A heron stood ominously further upstream but fortunately the mallards didn't proceed in this direction. Herons are well capable of scoffing several ducklings in one sitting - and they don't pause to add plum sauce! Disaster averted more by luck than design, we then enjoyed the spectacle of a moorhen powering past us (the crystal clear water allowing a great view of the non-webbed feet) while two chicks hung around the water's edge. I had only brought my phone camera and therefore wasn't able to take any close-up shots, but it's nice to just take in the entire scene through your own eyes without constantly fiddling with gadgetry. The final push to Leith was just around the bend and we switched to the trackbed of an old railway line. They say good things come in threes and the old adage held firm today. A female goosander was ushering her ducklings against the current and once again we were treated to an underwater show as the mother dived below the surface and we witnessed her swimming in the relatively shallow depths. All good fun.... and then we noticed another heron casting it's eye over the scene. The goosander chicks were being kept in a tighter formation than the mallards but the heron stood upright in the centre of the river, blocking the family's path. We - and several others - watched avidly and wondered how this drama would play out. A few shrill calls from mother goosander failed to perturb her much larger adversary. She then made couple of vaguely threatening runs upon the water's surface in the direction of the heron, but he remained stock still. Finally the goosander puffed out her feathers and made a noisy beeline towards her foe. Miraculously, the heron flapped its wings and took off, flying right past our eyeline. The feisty little lady had won this battle. We hadn't expected to see a major bird conflict, but nature is full of surprises. We pressed on, opting to chop out a river meander by staying on the railway path, which in any case reunited with the official route a little further on. Leith Shore was in sight and we had the good fortune to stumble upon an ice cream parlour as we reached the cobbled streets.

Suitably refreshed, we walked the full length of the historic quayside, which features several pubs and cafés, a far cry from the industrial dereliction of not so long ago. A docked ship named Ocean Mist trades as a 17-bedroom boutique hotel, following previous incarnations as a restaurant and nightclub. A modern deep-water dock complex lies beyond the historic quarter and a harpoon-gun sculpture marks the end of the walking trail. Ports on the east coast of Scotland played a key role in the Arctic whaling industry through Victorian times and up until the First World War. Perhaps less well known is the fact that Edinburgh shipping firm Christian Salvesen ran a whaling station in Antarctic waters until 1965 and employed many Scottish workers, some of whom are still alive today. Named after the company's home turf, Leith Harbour was situated on the remote British overseas territory of South Georgia and now lies abandoned. In this country, we regard the whaling trade as something best consigned to history, but unfortunately it hasn't been completely eradicated. I wandered over to the Victoria Swing Bridge, completed in 1875. The counterweighted wrought-iron crossing has a clear span of 120 feet (the longest in Scotland) and it provided road and rail access to the evolving outer docklands. The last reported opening of the hydraulically powered swing section occurred in 1985. The bridge was succeeded in the mid-90s by a modern structure further downstream and gradually fell into disrepair. It is currently undergoing restoration and will provide a link for walkers and cyclists. I also checked out the Scottish Merchant Navy Memorial - a sandstone obelisk decorated with bronzework. Standing five metres tall, the memorial was erected in 2010 and pays tribute to the seamen who perished while serving their country. It also commemorates 132 years of education at Leith Nautical College. It was time for dinner and a number 16 bus took us back to the city centre. Nicole was celebrating her birthday in two days time and we headed for a sushi restaurant. A perfect end to an interesting day.