Sheriffmuir Forest

It's always an interesting day when you can combine a walk with a romp through history. The Forest of Sheriffmuir lies on the moorland between Dunblane and Bridge of Allan and is the site of a Jacobean conflict. We arrived at the giant MacRae monument after spending some time birdwatching in the wider area. We saw whinchat sitting on fenceposts but the wheatear - a known resident of these parts - proved elusive. We had been for a wander in Sheriffmuir Woods prior to lockdown but the path network has been improved and new signage shows the various colour-coded trails.

The Battle of Sheriffmuir took place in 1715 during the first Jacobite uprising. King James VII (and second of England) had been forced off the throne in 1688 due to his religious beliefs and had sought exile in France. He was the younger brother of Charles II and the last catholic monarch of England, Scotland and Ireland. Charles had left no legitimate heir and the crown passed sideways to London-born James. After just three turbulent years as king, he was deemed by parliament to have effectively abdicated following his flight to the continent and the vacant throne was filled by his daughter and her protestant Dutch husband, William of Orange - who were installed a joint sovereigns. This was a turning point for the House of Stuart and indeed the nation as Catholicism was left behind and legislation put in place to prevent members of this faith ever ruling. An attempt by James to regain his position in 1690 was ultimately defeated at the Battle of the Boyne in Ireland and he lived out the rest of his days in French exile. James Francis Edward Stuart was the only male child from James's two marriages to reach adulthood. Officially Prince of Wales for a matter of months before his father's deposal, Prince James grew up in France and declared himself King of the British lands upon his father's death in 1701 - a move endorsed by France, Spain and the Papal States. An early attempt to invade Britain in 1708 was thwarted when the fleet - backed by France - was intercepted on the Firth of Forth. While James was focussed on regaining his crown, the French saw the exercise as a useful way of tying up British resources so other military matters could be pursued in the Spanish War of Succession. James retired to lick his wounds but the cause to restore the "rightful" monarch was galvanised in 1714 when Queen Anne died without leaving a successor. None of her five children had survived to adulthood and there ended the reign of the House of Stuart. The crown passed to Anne's second cousin George, Elector of Hanover, the closest protestant relative approved by the 1701 Act of Settlement. The appointment of a German-speaking monarch who appeared to have few close ties with England or Scotland caused consternation and the Jacobean cause to put James III & VIII on the throne was reignited.

John Erskine - 6th Earl of Mar - was the standard bearer for the rebel cause in Scotland. He declared James VIII King of Scots and captured Perth with an army of 12000 men and controlled most of the Highlands. He moved his forces south and they engaged the British Army - led by John Campbell, Duke of Argyll - at Sheriffmuir in November, 1715. Despite having vastly superior numbers, the Jacobites were unable to overcome their opponents and Mar - unwilling to risk his entire unit - allowed Argyll to withdraw. Both sides claimed victory but the inconclusive outcome of the combat meant that the Jacobites' chance to advance into the Lowlands and link up with fellow supporters in England was lost. Prince James - the pretender to the throne - arrived in Scotland the following month but his presence failed to breathe new life into the campaign dwindled. James returned to France, taking Mar with him.

A newly-laid path took us up to the site of the Gathering Stone - said to be the point where the Jacobite standard was unfurled prior to the battle of Sheriffmuir. Likely an ancient place of worship, the stone was smashed into several pieces in 1848 by English railway navvies, following a dispute with their Scots counterparts. It must have been a serious argument for the aggrieved men to pick their way across the moorland and vent their muscle power on the monolith. The Laird of Kippendavie - John Stirling - had the remains enclosed within an iron cage, which is how they appear today. The old battlefield is now surrounded by a modern commercial forestry operation and the area is now an important habitat for wildlife - particularly butterflies and dragonflies. We wandered a man-made pond that once functioned as a reservoir for the Dunblane Hydropathic Hotel - a Victorian health spa that opened in 1878 and still provides upmarket accommodation today. Pure spring water from the Ochils was stored in the pond before being piped to the hotel, via filter beds.

It had been an educational walk around the woodland and we were impressed with the path layout and information points. On the way back to the car, we chatted to a woman walking a Norwich terrier - a dog breed I was completely unaware of. We rounded off the day by driving into the historic Perthshire town of Dunblane. The most famous resident of recent years is tennis player Andy Murray, who won the Wimbledon trophy twice along with the US Open. He bagged two Olympic gold medals and was five times runner-up in the Australian Open. By far the best player from Scotland ever to swing a racket and still active at the time of writing. His brother Jamie is a Wimbledon doubles champion and this feat was repeated at the Australian Open. On a darker note, the Murray brothers were pupils at Dunblane Primary School when the infamous massacre occurred in 1996. Gunman Thomas Hamilton took the lives of 16 pupils and their teacher. The architectural focal point of the town is Dunblane Cathedral - an imposing building with parts dating back to the 11th century. We parked just outside and wandered through the graveyard and down to the River Allan. Back at street level, we dropped into the Riverside pub/restaurant which has a wooden balcony overlooking the water. We sat in the open air and I enjoyed a couple of pints from Loch Lomond Brewery - a treat that is becoming rarer due to the fact that a £4-£5 price range for a beer is now the norm. The next day, I took a drive up past Kinross and Milnathort to Path of Condie - a tiny hamlet nestled among the low-rise hills of South Perthshire. Despite being just a short drive from the M90, the area is remote and narrow roads wind through the rolling green landscape.

I had worked out a 4-mile circular route (borrowed from a blog to be precise) and I parked in a small lay-by at the entrance to Clow Wood. I quickly gained height on a forestry track and could see the twin Lomond peaks in the distance. Clow Hill had recently been shorn of its plantation cover and although my chosen path skirted the lower slope, I scrambled up halfway to stand on a tree stump and gain even better views. The signed Path of Condie trail then dipped down into a peaceful grassy valley which contained the May Water. An unexpected highlight of the trail was running into the abandoned Wester Clow farm. The walls of several stone buildings were still standing although the roofs had lone gone. This must have been a bustling working environment at one time but only the ghostly shells of the farmhouse and cottages remain. Just before crossing the stream on a basic concrete bridge, I encountered two old caravans now used for storage. The path led up the opposite valley slope and I climbed a style into a sheep field and followed the obvious track towards Path of Condie hamlet. A "glamping" pod is available for hire and it would certainly be a lovely location for a quiet few days. I had no option but to use the minor road to bring me back to the starting point and I walked round the crazy hairpin bend that I'd negotiated in first gear a couple of hours beforehand. I assumed one or two cars might pass by but my estimate was way off beam. A steady stream of classic cars came towards me as I trudged back to my humble Peugeot. It looked like a car club was out for a rural run. One sure-fire indicator of the ageing process is when cars you commonly saw as a child are now deemed collectors items. I could almost taste the petrol fumes emanating from some of the old timers. I just want a car that works and is cheap to run. But different strokes for different folks! No doubt my fascination with walking trails is completely bamboozling to some people.

Pitlochry Dam Centre

As a child, I went on many family caravan and camping adventures. One regular haunt was the site at Faskally, just outside the Perthshire tourist town of Pitlochry. I therefore got to know the place very well and have returned several times in my adult life. Not much more than an hour's drive up the M90 and A9 from Fife, Pitlochry makes for a good day trip and offers tourists a Highland experience. My mum has always loved the atmosphere of the town and local area. She suggested we head up for a look at the newly opened Dam Centre - where an interactive exhibition tells the story of hydroelectric power generation. Being an industrial heritage fanatic and lover of museums, I didn't take much persuading.

We set off early on a Sunday morning and cruised up the A9. Mum knows every bend on this road as my folks formerly had a static caravan up in Dornoch, Sutherland. We rolled into Pitlochry and located the centre adjacent to the dam itself. A new car park had handily been constructed a mere 50 yards away from the front door. The exhibition was free to enter and the building also contains a café and shop. Some information boards and video screens were on display near the entrance but the bulk of the material was arranged on the lower floor. The generating station at Pitlochry is part of the wider Tummel Valley hydroelectric scheme. Frequent rainfall running off the mountains makes Scotland an ideal place to utilise this technology. Engineers designed the process so that water cascades through a series of reservoirs and turbines. Therefore the same resource can generate power up to five times on its way to the lowest point. Following early attempts in the 1930s, the technology really got off the ground in the 50s and the North of Scotland Hydroelectric Board was established. These were the days when the country's energy needs were met by the public sector. Don't think for one moment that the "not in my back yard" argument is a new concept. The exhibition displayed various letters from disgruntled residents and some of the concerns were not without merit. How would the salmon population be affected by industrial scale damming? Would these huge civil engineering projects spoil the scenery and deter tourism? To allay these fears, architects designed the installations to look pleasing and would often clad them in local stone. The Pitlochry dam featured a public walkway and viewpoint. Provision for the fish came in the form of a salmon ladder with 34 pools, which incorporated observation windows so visitors could witness the part of the phenomenal journey to the spawning grounds first hand. The gallery had hand-crank generators to keep kids (and many adults) amused and we watched a film about the development of the power scheme. I learned electrical facts I had long since forgotten since studying Higher physics 30-odd years ago. Voltage measures the oomph behind the current, rather like water pressure. Therefore increasing this measure allows you to force more electricity down the same wire. This in turn means you can site the generating station further away from the end users and zap the current down to where it's needed.

Harnessing energy is always more complex than the theory. Existing global needs could be met 10,000 times over from the solar rays that hit the planet but the current technology (no pun intended) allows only a tiny fraction of this potential resource is harvested. Wind turbines have popped up all over the place and now supply 60% of our renewable energy production - but of course the wind doesn't blow equally hard all the time. It cannot therefore be guaranteed to satisfy peak-time demands and back up sources will be required for some time yet. Dare I say we'll never be free of fossil fuels and nuclear for the foreseeable future? Biomass takes an increasing share of the load and makes use of by-products that were lying around anyway, but the overall green credentials don't necessarily stack up. Hydro can be regulated in a steady flow and doesn't involve any burning. I'm also very interested in the social side of industrial history and the museum didn't disappoint in this respect. Plenty of tales of the "tunnel tigers" were supplied. They were the men who carried out the risky excavation of passageways to carry the torrents. Health & Safety was of course more lax back then and these workers - although rewarded with a handsome pay packet - faced many dangers. I purchased a book from the shop, written by a tunnel tiger and I'm looking forward to reading his first-hand account. After completing the exhibition, mum and I ordered lunch in the café and found a seat by the large windows overlooking the dam. My haggis ciabatta went down a treat and it was a nice way to round off an enjoyable morning. I suggested we take a run along to the Queen's View - just a few miles distant on Loch Tummel. With the famous mountain Schiehallion looming in the background, the vista is one of the most photographed scenes in Scotland. Queen Victoria visited the area in 1866 and one theory states the viewpoint was named after the long-serving monarch. Others insist Queen Isabella - wife of Robert the Bruce - was the inspiration behind the name. Either way, it's a lovely spot and the site features a visitors centre and restaurant, all closed today due to a lack of personnel. At least it meant there was no possibility of the parking charges being enforced!

On the way there and back, we passed Faskally Caravan Park where I had spent so many happy holidays. Many of my best childhood memories are from camping and caravanning trips. The site nowadays is dominated by static vans and mum said no tents were permitted these days. Having also spent countless nights at the family static in Embo (and later Monifieth), I appreciate the comforts of a fully plumbed-in van with all the electric mod-cons. No need to fetch fresh water and lug the waste container to the disposal point (let's not even mention the chemical loo!). That said, I'm grateful we experienced these breaks without being glued to a TV screen and instead enjoyed many board and card games. We always had the radio and newspapers to keep us informed about events in the wider world. Camping is even more of a back-to-basics way of living for a few days. At least that's the theory. I have seen families erecting portable satellite dishes and unpacking a microwave oven from the car boot. Me? I was always happier with my wind-up wireless while a tin of soup was cooking on the gas stove.

Lennoxtown to Strathblane

Another glorious Sunday and a return to Lennoxtown to hit the railway path. Last week I had walked to Kirkintilloch and back. Today I planned to head in the other direction and reach the village of Strathblane four miles away. The walkable section of the route terminates here and I would have to do the return leg on foot as there is no direct bus back to Lennoxtown. Not to worry - I needed to put miles on the clock to increase my post-Covid fitness.

Lennoxtown is situated within the Parish of Campsie, within the County of Stirling. The town grew around the calico printing industry and another important process was nail making. The railway closed to passengers in 1951 but freight traffic continued until the mid 60s. Today there is no trace left of the station or goods yard and the traditional industries have vanished from the landscape. An infamous mental institution once stood on the edge of Lennoxtown and I have written about this elsewhere. The hospital was actually administered by Glasgow Corporation but deliberately sited in a rural environment outwith the city limits. The path initially tracked the Glazert Water through a pleasantly wooded valley and new housing stood on the fringes. It's hard to see a case ever being made for this backwater line's reopening but the tendency to erect residential developments alongside old railways must mean there's a ready-made army of naysayers, fuelled by nimbyism, ready to make their voices heard should any serious proposal be floated. Once the line diverged from the water, I entered flat green terrain at the foot of the Campsie Hills. It must have been a scenic run on the train back in the day and I strode past fields of lambs and admired the peaceful surroundings. Fortunately the trackbed escaped being farmed over and walkers can today enjoy this route, which also forms part of the 134-mile John Muir Way - a trail from coast to coast named after the Dunbar-born conservationist who was the founding father of the American national parks. It seemed as if the entire walk from here would be upon ground as flat as a pancake but an incongruous rocky mound called Dunglass appeared on the horizon. A volcanic plug, the 500-foot outcrop reportedly provides a great viewpoint but my mission today was to remain on level ground. Beyond Dunglass, the gradient began to drop and a shallow cutting led down to Strathblane. The station site is now occupied by a private property and gardens which meant the path took a right-angled turn towards the main street. The first passenger train called here in 1867 after the line was extended from the original terminus at Lennoxtown.

Even at the outset, the line was not expected to handle significant volumes of passenger traffic as - with the exception of Blanefield Print Works - the area was an agricultural one. Farm produce was anticipated as the main source of income, particularly milk. By 1882 the line had reached Aberfoyle but this involved running along a section of the Forth & Clyde Junction Railway - owned by a rival company. Such arrangements were by no means unknown but they must have created logistical issued until the network was grouped regionally then ultimately nationalised. The writing was on the wall for scantly-used rural lines in the immediate post-war era and the inability to compete with cheaper bus services saw many stations close, even before Beeching waded in with his size 10s a decade down the line. Usually the actual tracks survived for freight runs, probably partly due to the fact that permanently closing a railway involves a complex parliamentary process. But when a wholescale network reduction was planed in the 1960s, most lines that had already lost their passenger services were finally swept away. One sop was to introduce a bus replacement service that tracked the course of the railway as far as possible. Predictably, they fell by the wayside but a survivor was the bus that ran from Edinburgh to the border towns once served by high-speed trains - an arrangement that continued into the internet age. Somewhat bizarrely, you could purchase tickets on the rail booking websites for stations that had long since been bulldozed! Strathblane has just under 2000 residents and it's close enough to Glasgow to serve as a commuter base. I sought out the local Co-op for a cold drink before wandering back to Lennoxtown. What a pleasant little ramble!