Cowie coke ovens

I have pieced together several heritage trails around towns and villages by studying online maps and researching the local history. I tend to construct circular routes as they are practical to walk and hopefully appealing to those browsing the website. Cowie is a village in Stirlingshire, an easy half hour drive from my home. I'd previously examined the surrounding paths but failed to come up with a viable walk. The area was then placed on the back burner.

My attention was refocussed on Cowie when I learned of the existence of coking ovens on the edge of the village. Coke is a processed fossil fuel used in blast furnaces. It is formed by heating suitable coal to high temperatures in the absence of oxygen, which drives out impurities, leaving a carbon-rich product that releases more energy upon burning than the original coal. There is a website called Landscape Legacies of Coal Mining, run by Stirling University. It provides various walking routes with an industrial theme around central Scotland. I also follow their Facebook feed and happened to spot a series of pictures showing the remains of the Cowie coking plant. This looked right up my street and I made a mental note to head over next time I had a free morning or afternoon. A couple of years ago, I met one of the guys involved with the Landscape Legacies project while exploring the remains of Solsgirth Colliery. Royston Goodman is an ex-miner who worked in several pits in Scotland and also abroad. He suggested I download the app which summarises the mining-themed walks and I used the instructions to keep me right as I parked on the fringes of Cowie and hiked up a farm road. On the drive through, I had passed the site of Airth Station, closed to passengers in 1954 and now hosting a cattery. The lack of footfall can probably be attributed to the two-mile gap between Airth town and the rail halt bearing its name. The line itself split from the current Falkirk to Perth corridor and ran over the Alloa Swing Bridge. Freight continued until 1968 and the original Forth crossing was demolished a few years later. Today's main line skirts Cowie and a mineral branch formerly served two collieries and the cokeworks I was hopefully about to discover. A stub next to the Norbord factory was still used until the 90s to transport chipboard products. There was never a passenger station named Cowie but the stop on the Plean branch across the main tracks provided this facility. It sat equidistant between the two villages. Was this a case of the railway company hedging its bets?

The farm track gained height and I was treated to lovely views across the green fields towards Stirling Castle and the Ochil Hills. I looked over Cowiehall Quarry, opened as recently as 1989 but now at the end of its working life. The road dropped down to a junction where I picked up a path that paralleled the old railway cutting (now festooned with trees). Within minutes, the characteristics of my surroundings had changed completely. The acres of monoculture crops had vanished and I was now walking through a shaded thicket alive with birdsong. Ironically, the remains of industrial operations that once scarred the landscape are now providing a quiet home for nature. Vegetation has sprouted in random twisted shapes upon the old railway trackbed. A ribbon of wilderness among the chemically-enhanced process of modern arable farming. Cowie grew rapidly in the early years of the 20th century when the pits were sunk. Successive generations of OS maps show the settlement transforming from an agricultural backwater to an industrial village. Mining operations at Bannockburn Colliery ceased in 1953 and the site is now occupied by the Norbord timber processing plant. Carnock Colliery closed back in 1934 and the site was completely cleared in the 1960s. The coking plant was adjacent to the mine and the two industries formed an integrated unit. Useful by-products included ammonia and coal tar. There isn't a great deal of information online about the Carnock site but it seems the coke ovens were taken over by the Carron Iron Company following the closure of the pit. Carron ironworks near Falkirk was a vast industrial complex and a local source of coke was a hugely favourable situation. Perhaps the new owners brought in wagonloads of coal and trundled the resultant coke along to the foundry.

The walk instructions said to look out for the end of a concrete wall in the undergrowth, which marked the boundary of the coking complex. I spotted this and decided to plunge into the trees for a look around. Being off-path meant I had to place my feet carefully and brush branches aside but the going wasn't too bad. I encountered several old brick structures, possibly the remains of chimneys and kilns. As if to prove my earlier point about nature habitats, a bird with a long bill flew up in front of me. It was gone within seconds and my immediate thought was it must have been a woodcock. A bulky wading bird with short legs, it is largely nocturnal and spends most of the day under dense cover. The other possibility was a snipe but a quick text to Nicole confirmed a dense patch of woodland would be an unlikely place to spot this particular suspect. I had never seen a woodcock before and the entire UK breeding population is around 50,000 pairs. They feed on worms, beetles and caterpillars. Numbers have declined due to the increasing difficulty of finding suitable breeding areas. Another bird ticked off the life list. I worked my way back to the main path and followed it further. It led to a fine selection of decaying infrastructure, with brick arches poking above ground level. Probably old burning chambers that had been backfilled over the years. One had enough clearance to peer inside and I assumed this was part of an oven complex. There was no sensible way of squeezing through the gap but my torch illuminated a space that looked large enough to stand up in. A very interesting explore with a hint of an old-fashioned country wander.

Edinburgh tram walk - part 1

The original Edinburgh tram network was dismantled in 1956. They made a return in 2014, although the lengthy construction process proved controversial due to spiralling costs and the paring back of the proposed system to a single line from Leith to Edinburgh Airport. This route was subsequently truncated with the announcement that trams from the airport would not run beyond the city centre, despite huge sums of money having been spent diverting underground utilities on the mile-long Leith Walk in order to clear a pathway for the tracks. The whole project became a convenient political football.

Of course there's nothing remotely new about a massive infrastructure programme running way over budget. It's also often the case that, once operational, these schemes prove beneficial and the old arguments melt away. The trams are now fully integrated with everyday city life and the opening of the extension to Leith is imminent. So how does all this fit in with a city walk? Well, I was tracing the old Corstorphine branch railway on the map and noticed a portion of it now functions as a public footpath. Moreover, the end of this trail links to a path running alongside the modern-day tramlines all the way out to Edinburgh Park Station two and a half miles away. An idea began to form. I could combine old and new rail infrastructure on a single walk. A perfect activity for a late-spring evening prior to my monthly German meet-up. The sun was shining as I took the bus straight from work. I had decided to travel by tram from the city centre out to Edinburgh Park and work my way back on foot. I purchased a single ticket from Princes Street, which cost £2. The fares have been pegged at an affordable level, but there is one glaring anomaly in the system. The city zone consists of all stops, bar the airport, which sits within its own pricing category. A single ride anywhere within the city zone costs the aforementioned two quid, while a day return is priced at £3.80 and a fiver will buy you an all-day ticket. Go all the way to the airport however, and these prices jump to £7.50, £9.50 and £12 respectively, despite the terminal building being just a three quarter mile walk from the final stop in the city zone (Ingliston Park & Ride). Passengers without mobility issues and heavy baggage could easily save a few pounds by alighting short. Nicole and I once walked this stretch when we arrived at Ingliston by bus en route to Germany.

It opens up a whole debate on whether charging significant airport premiums is justified (don't get me started on the £4 drop-off fee!). Those who frequent the terminal will be well aware of the situation but many tourists might be none the wiser. The next time you hear someone bemoan the throng of holidaymakers in our capital city, point out that visitors from far and wide help subside the tram services for locals! Sure to go down a treat. It took just 20 minutes to reach Edinburgh Park, which features a rail interchange and large retail park. I grabbed a snack from Tesco and began following the rails back towards the city. The wide path is part of a cycle network and it was a pleasant stroll with trams gliding by. The parallel railway line to Glasgow was also busy. I passed Bankhead halt, then switched to a grassy short-cut to Saughton. The railway divides here for Fife and Glasgow, while the tram route passes above on a concrete viaduct. I was now skirting Carrick Knowe golf course and the path had sufficient elevation to afford a view of Edinburgh Castle in the distance, Corstorphine Hill to my left and the Pentland range on my right. I quickly reached the next stop, Balgreen, where the tram footpath ends and the old Corstorphine branch railway diverges. This old trackbed is now part of the long-distance John Muir Way, a 134-mile coast-to-coast trail across central Scotland. Nicole and I have completed one stage so far, but I have coincidentally traversed other parts of the route while doing various walks. The Corstorphine Branch opened in 1902 and was less than two miles in length. It featured just three stations: Balgreen, Pinkhill and Corstorphine itself. The line closed to passengers and freight in 1968 and my mum remembers the Corstorphine train often sitting in an adjacent bay at Haymarket when she commuted back home to Fife. Wandering up the gradient, it was easy to see how the trackbed had survived over the decades. Hemmed in between a golf course and residential properties, there wouldn't have been enough clearance to develop the land in any profitable way. I soon reached the impressive remains of Pinkhill Station, where both platforms and the ticket office still stand.

Corstorphine Station has been built over and it was at this point I left the footpath and proceeded along an alleyway leading to the main road (A8). The branch line would have been a useful commuter link and a way for day trippers to reach Edinburgh Zoo. Unfortunately it fell victim to the twin forces of rising car ownership and the increasing promotion of motor buses. The re-introduction of conventional suburban rail to Edinburgh doesn't seem to be on the table but there must surely be hope of the tram network undergoing future expansion. As I type, the extension to Leith is due to start carrying passengers within a couple of weeks and would never have been built if the existing service hadn't met and exceeded targets. The demand is clearly there, plus electric traction ticks all the green boxes. Buses too can be powered in this way but trams shift large volumes of people efficiently and can bypass much of the traffic congestion. Manchester and Birmingham are currently in the process of laying down new tram tracks. Yes, it's expensive but the benefits must be viewed over the longer term. As I crossed Corstorphine Road, a bus approached and I jumped on. The Lothian network has a flat fare of £1.50 for a single journey and a daily cap exists. All very nice, but it would really advance the case for public transport if major cities could integrate the multiple modes into one payment model. London does this brilliantly but does enjoy the advantage of the bus, tram, local rail and underground fleets all being under the umbrella of one transport organisation. This situation isn't replicated across the land, yet needn't be a stumbling block. The vast majority of users now pay using contactless technology which means an exact digital trail is logged. This would surely make it relatively easy to apportion revenue in the correct amounts. Back in the city centre, I made my way to Castle Street where the German meet-up was taking place at Badger & Co. They were offering local Cold Town beers at £4 a pint on Monday to Wednesday evenings - which is cheap for Edinburgh these days. I don't normally opt for lager but, when properly made, it hits the spot after a long walk in the sunshine. Prost!

Isle of Barra

The Outer Herbrides form an archipelago off the west coast of Scotland and Barra sits almost at the bottom of the chain. An 85-mile ferry journey is required via the Sound of Mull and Atlantic Ocean in order to reach this remote outpost. Barra is famed for it's wide sandy beaches and one of them even hosts an airport! It's a place we had talked about visiting for some time and we booked a three-night stay in Castlebay, the main settlement.

The Barra ferry departs from Oban, a bustling seaside town in Argyll and a worthy destination in itself. We spent a couple of nights here back in 2005 and took a boat trip around Kerrera Island out in the bay. The Oban skyline is dominated by McCaig's Folly - a partially completed granite structure that was originally intended to resemble the Colosseum. John Stuart McCaig drew up the plans himself but his death brought an end to construction when only the outer shell was in place. The ferry port is situated next to the railway terminus and services run to ten different islands. CalMac (short for Caledonian MacBrayne) is the state-owned operator and it's fair to say the national ferry situation has been a thorn in the flesh of the Scottish Government of late, with an ageing fleet awaiting long overdue replacements that are still sitting in a shipyard, while costs continue to soar. Some islands have suffered recent disruption to their link with the mainland but thankfully there were no issues with the Barra route - served by the 1995 vessel MV Isle of Lewis. We were travelling as foot passengers and the return fare was £31 per person. It would have cost an extra £150 to take the car and since we were operating on a modest budget, we decided to leave Dolly Duster in Oban. But where? The town is notoriously tight for parking but I found a solution. The large Tesco supermarket rents out car-park spaces for long stays and I booked a berth for £25. We wandered over to the terminal and boarded an impressive ship over 100 metres in length, with room for 680 passengers and 120 cars. There was plenty free space in the lounge and we settled into a comfortable seat. Drinks and light snacks were served here, while a restaurant was situated to the rear of the ship. Both facilities featured panoramic viewing windows and the interconnecting corridors contained the toilet facilities, additional seating and areas reserved for passengers with pets (of which there were quite a few). It was a lovely day and we climbed up to the observation deck as soon as we set sail. Oban began to shrink behind us and we passed Dunollie Castle, standing on a ridge of land overlooking the bay. Dunollie is the seat of the MacDougall clan but the castle was abandoned in 1746. It is now in the care of a preservation trust and open to the public as a community-focussed heritage site. The grounds offer various woodland walks and an admission ticket lasts for 12 months. This enables local people to repeatedly make use of the facilities and all profits from the café and shop are ploughed back into the venture.

The Isle of Kerrera lay to our left and it boasts a population of 45, split over two settlements. There are no public buildings or facilities (apart from two compost toilets provided by the community). The islanders farm sheep and Highland Cattle as their main source of income. A small ferry shuttles back and forth whenever passengers appear and a 7-mile walking circuit attracts hikers. The trail passes the ruined Gylen Castle. One to file away for future consideration. We proceeded into the Sound of Mull - a narrow sea channel with a maximum width of three miles, separating the Isle of Mull and the overhanging mainland. The 20-mile length of the passage meant it took some considerable time to navigate and we spent the duration on deck. We sailed past a lighthouse and spotted the town of Tobermory on Mull. As we entered the Sea of the Hebrides, the wind picked up and we scuttled back to the lounge. Open water lay ahead and there had been no reported sightings of dolphins so far. Perhaps we would get lucky on the return journey. The ship wi-fi was patchy but I listened to a couple of downloaded podcasts to keep me amused. Eventually we caught sight of Barra and the outline of Kisimul Castle became clearer as we neared the port of Castlebay. The castle sits upon a tiny island and Historic Scotland recently signed a 1000-year lease on the property for an annual payment of £1 plus a bottle of whisky. The ferry soon docked and we made our way to the exit ramp. Our accommodation was just 300 yards away and I snapped a photo of the castle as I set foot on Barra. We headed along the coast to Dunard Hostel and checked in. We had a private room in the adjoining lodge and there was a communal kitchen and living room (with roaring fire). A handy base for exploration of the island. The hostel had a strong wi-fi signal but there was no Vodafone service to be found. This posed a problem for Nicole as she had to receive an important work call in a couple of days time but it was eventually sorted out by using a landline in the community hub. The hostel twin room had the usual basic furnishings and cost £60 per night. A dormitory bed was priced at £27 per person and it's worth paying an extra few pounds for the increased privacy. After a hot meal, we settled in for the night and woke up the following morning, eager to see Barra.

The island basically has one 12-mile circular road, with a spur leading to the airport at the northern tip. A handful of minibuses per day provide the public transport network and fares are low. No card tapping upon entering the vehicle, strictly cash only. Fortunately I had brought a little stack of pound coins after reading some travel tips online. We caught an early service in the centre of Castlebay and went as far as the Isle of Barra Beach Hotel. It had yet to open for the tourist season but the view over the small Tangasdale Beach was spectacular. The combination of golden sands and deep blue water was breathtaking. We watched oystercatchers by the shore and then walked the mile and a half along the road back to Castlebay. The route took us by Tangasdale Loch (the largest body of freshwater on the island). A path ran towards the beach but we wanted to be at the community shop before lunchtime in order to enquire about using a telephone line the following day. The staff were most helpful and we can't possibly have been the first people to request this favour. The two public phone boxes in Castlebay had been a potential option but the equipment was rusted to the point of being inoperable. I thought BT still had an obligation to maintain old-style services in remote areas not properly covered by mobile networks. Perhaps that too has fallen by the wayside. Anyway, problem solved, we perused the variety of offerings within the premises. Local arts and crafts were on sale, as well as drinks and snacks. The space also functions as a free wi-fi zone and tourist information office. The more advanced digital hub is available to residents and visitors and is fully equipped with webcams and headphones etc, allowing locals to conduct online meetings and appointments free of charge. Tourists can use the desktop computers for personal business at a rate of £5 per hour. The operation is run by volunteers and the atmosphere is extremely cordial. I picked up a copy of the local Hebridean newspaper - the front page of which, surprise, surprise, moaned about the current state of the ferry services. I bought a few postcards and Nicole treated herself to a woollen hat. She wanted to put something back in after receiving vital assistance.

We wandered down to the ferry dock and had a look at the café inside the post office. It served only sweet fare and we decided to try our luck at the Castlebay Hotel instead. Before heading back up the hill, I watched two Royal Mail Transit vans being loaded to the gunwales with parcels, no doubt the daily arrival of online shopping orders. I suspect many of the packages begin their journey with a private courier, who then engage the King's Mail to fulfil the troublesome and expensive final leg. We also learned from the bus driver that Barra residents can book an online delivery from Asda for a flat fee of £5. The refrigerated lorry that transports seafood produce from the island to the mainland brings the groceries back from Glasgow and this arrangement avoids the situation of the vehicle running empty half of the time. Everybody wins! Well, perhaps not the local Co-op, 200 yards along from the hostel. I didn't actually find their prices too steep. Not a great deal more expensive than what we pay back home to be frank. But no doubt a bulk buy from Asda is cost-effective and offers more choice. The tentacles of online commerce know no bounds. The Castlebay Hotel sits above the village centre, overlooking the harbour towards the Island of Vatersay. We arrived at noon and were welcomed into the restaurant. Being the first to arrive, we were to choose a table with amazing sea views. The best seat in the house! The lunch menu was fairly basic, but burger and chips is a firm favourite of mine. Nicole opted for the same. In fairness, the tourist season had barely begun and you can't expect the hotel to offer a wide selection when only a handful of people might turn up. The food was perfectly adequate and I washed it down with a pint of McEwan's 80-shilling. The bill came to just short of £40 but that's the going rate for two people nowadays. Fed and watered, we caught the next bus up to the airport. An elderly local man also came aboard and asked where we were from. Upon hearing that I grew up in Lochgelly, a smile appeared on his face. The gentleman had been well acquainted with the town's infamous tawse during his schooldays. The instrument of corporal punishment dates back to the late 1800s and by the mid-20th century, the thick leather strap made by John J Dick Leather Goods had a 70% share of the Scottish market. The company still trades in Lochgelly today and a heavyweight tawse will set you back £175. It's use has of course been prohibited in schools since the early 1980s. I couldn't possibly comment on the reasons for buying such a weighty implement today!

We arrived at the airport on the narrow top part of the island. Uniquely, the largest beach acts as the runway. There had been a delay to the flight and it wasn't due to land for over an hour. The flat sands spread out beyond the terminal building but a path led in the direction of the dunes behind us. We decide to investigate and were rewarded by panoramic views of another beach from our sandy summit. We walked down to sea level and strolled along as the Atlantic Ocean lapped at our heels. A fabulous experience. Back at the airport, we found a spot behind the boundary railings that would allow us to observe the plane coming in. It was an exposed and breezy location but I recall learning in a physics classroom that taking off into a blustery headwind allows the aircraft to quickly become airbourne. We bumped into a Japanese aviation enthusiast who was currently working in Glasgow. He had arrived on the early flight, spent a few hours at the terminal and was heading back the same day. The bus driver had told us this type of itinerary was by no means unusual. Eventually an object appeared in the sky and descended towards us. We could make out it was a small propeller craft and it swooped right over our heads to touch down on the sands. Well worth seeing. The turnaround time was barely half an hour and the engines fired up in readiness for take off. What I hadn't bargained for was the strength of the backdraught and the sand was whipped up in our faces as the plane accelerated away and took to the skies. The wind was becoming decidedly chilly and we entered the tiny terminal building in search of a hot drink. We hung around for another half hour until the bus to Castlebay arrived. The driver informed us that most Barra residents have more than one income stream. He also had a small croft and two holiday cottages. The rain started to fall on the journey back to the hostel and we were kindly dropped at the door. A warm night in front of the fire ensued.

We knew the weather prospects for our final full day weren't great but the rain did ease off mid-morning, allowing us to take a wander along a coastal path. We passed the old harbour and were treated to some fine views across the open sea and backwards to the castle. Vatersay (population 90, and pictured below) was prominent in the distance and we could see the causeway linking the two islands across a narrow strait. Apparently our location was a known spot for otter sightings but they kept themselves hidden today. One new wildlife encounter on the trip so far was the black guillemot - a member of the auk family with bright red feet sticking out below the plumage. The bird is typically found in ones and twos, scattered around rocky islets. We noticed a hooded crow on the walk back to the village. They don't inhabit the same territory as the carrion crow that is common across lowland Scotland. The weather took a turn for the worse and we ducked into the community shop to pick up a few treats. It appeared we would be indoors for the remainder of the day. There was a healthy supply of paper-maché fire logs and I wasted no time in conjuring up a blaze. A dry spell in the evening gave me the chance to run along to the Co-op for a couple of pizzas, the wind basically blowing me back to the hostel. There was good banter at the communal table and we retired for an early night as we had to be up at the crack of dawn for the boat home. The sailing time was 7am and we boarded with bleary eyes. The ferry was lightly loaded and the lounge had plenty available space. I had packed a couple of rolls for breakfast and ate them as we set off for the mainland. I stretched out on the padded seat and promptly fell asleep. Next thing I knew we were halfway along of the Sound of Mull. I headed up on deck and noticed snow on the flanking hills, which I didn't recall seeing on the way in. The weather must be highly changeable around these parts, even in mid-spring. Nicole had spotted a porpoise while I slumbered. Can't win them all.

We were once again treated to excellent views of Kerrera, and Oban loomed ever closer. After disembarking, we bought a couple of souvenirs from the quayside gift shops before retrieving the car (and purchasing lunch) from Tesco. We hit the road and decided to stop at a quirky church we had passed on the outward leg our holiday. St Conan's Kirk stands by the main road in the village of Lochawe. We pulled up in a lay-by and entered the grounds. There was a tearoom on the premises but unfortunately it was just a takeaway service today. Surprisingly, the A-listed church was completed as recently as 1930 - despite the medieval appearance. It was the brainchild of Walter Douglas Campbell, a member of the Scottish aristocracy, who also performed the role of architect. He settled in Lochawe in the 1880s and commissioned the building of a mansion house. According to local legend, Walter's mother found the journey to the existing parish church tiring and he resolved to create a much larger and nobler alternative closer to home. He stuck to no particular style and took influences from a range of places and time periods, mashing together what he considered the best individual features from other churches. Even paganism was included in the form of a (now fallen) stone circle by the entrance gate. Campbell died in 1916 but his sister Helen ensured the grand vision was realised and the church is now one of the biggest tourist attractions in Argyll. It also regularly features in the top-10 list of buildings completed within the last 100 years. A tour of the interior is a visual feast. The heavy oak beams in the cloister came from the broken-up wooden battleships HMS Duke of Wellington and HMS Caledonia. The cloister roof features intricate lead work. Leaning against the wall are two mort safes - heavy iron grids attached to graves in order to deter body snatchers. The church roof boasts complex shapes, decorative design, different materials, square towers and more. Other than the slate section from the earlier part of the building completed in 1886, all other elements were added when the building was dramatically extended. While most of the roof is sound, problems have arisen where different materials intersect. In many places, flashings and skews are no longer effective, gutters inside the parapets are not functioning correctly and several coping stones need securing. Leaks and water ingress can be clearly seen inside the Kirk when it rains.

Thankfully, a substantial amount of lottery funding has been granted to deal with the roof leaks (the highest priority) and additional wall repairs. A program of repointing in lime will require almost the whole building to have a scaffold tower at some point to allow this laborious, time consuming and vital job to be done. There are also necessary stonework repairs internally and externally that will need to be assessed by conservation experts. All this must be a very expensive business. The church receives no money from government sources or any religious body. Each of the building's three chapels are also in need of care and attention. Just in case this work schedule isn't comprehensive enough, there are also plans to upgrade the garden and grounds, including the rebuilding of the stone circle and the removal of two huge non-native trees that contribute to roof damage and also block views across the adjacent Loch Awe. The church is actually perched on a steep slope overlooking the water. I had a stroll around the outdoor terraces and noted the gargoyles (a dog and two hares) looking down at me from the church exterior. The main railway line to Oban runs between the church and loch. Always a bonus to see the iron road! The Bruce Chapel contains a carved wood and alabaster effigy of King Robert the Bruce. Light enters via a centuries-old window that once graced St Mary's Church in Leith. Walter Campbell rescued it from an Edinburgh garden, where it had languished for decades. Below the effigy is a small chamber containing a bone of the King, a gift from Dunfermline Abbey. Campbell's tomb is situated in St Bride's Chapel. His sister Helen is also interred here. It is said the small star-shaped window high up at the far end of the aisle is positioned to allow the rising sun to light Campbell's effigy. The third chapel is St Conval's. It contains the remains of the Fourth Lord Blythswood, who oversaw the finishing touches to the kirk after Helen Campbell passed away in 1927. The memorial stone sits on two large marble slabs. We strolled around the nave, soaking up the atmosphere and admiring the superb craftsmanship. Is the church worthy of a day trip in itself? Yes, I think it probably is.

We hit the road and took a slight detour to visit the Perthshire conservation village of Killin. The Falls of Dochart run through the centre, a spectacular series of rapids at the western end of Loch Tay. Killin is nestled at the foot of Ben Lawers - the highest mountain in the southern Highland, just under 4000 feet high. The region is known as Breadalbane and legend says a Celtic folk hero named Fingal was buried in Killin after literally losing his head over a fairy woman. Gaelic was the majority language in Killin until the 20th century and could still be heard within the community as late as the 1970s. The Perthshire dialect is now expected to die out as only a handful of elderly speakers remain and there is no joined-up language community. The A827 is carried over the River Dochart by a narrow bridge dating from 1760 and sporting four main arches. Major rebuilding works were carried out in 1831 but the bridge remains a curious affair, with the carriageway barely wide enough to accommodate a lorry or tour coach. Indeed, we had to squeeze in against the parapet when walking across, to allow larger vehicles to pass. At one end of the bridge, Inchbuie stands in the water. This small wooded island hosts the ancient burial grounds of Clan MacNab. Many of the graves are located within an 18th-century walled enclosure but you have to request keys from the local library in order to gain access. We looked down upon the historic site from the bridge and then headed into a souvenir shop. The falls were quiet today and visitors were taking selfies out on the flat rocks. We resumed our journey homewards and re-entered urban Scotland. It had been a great few days away.