Going to California

I remember spotting the name California on a map of Central Scotland when looking for ideas for a day trip. Not far from Falkirk, but I hadn't heard of the place before. This was years ago and I resolved at the time to pay a visit one day. My first actual sighting of the "Sunshine Village" - as it's styled by local authority Falkirk Council - was a drive through on my way home from a walk along the River Avon. I noticed California on a road sign and went on a little detour but didn't have time to stop for a closer look on that particular day.

A good while later I was casting around for a reasonably local walk to undertake on a Saturday morning. California sprung to mind as I could be there within half an hour. Given the fact the Stirlingshire villages around Falkirk have a strong industrial heritage, I was hopeful I could tie my trip in with a bit of exploring. The Victorian maps revealed the presence of a mineral railway running from California down to a junction and - moreover - a current walking route occupied the course of the old freight line. Perfect! I arrived in the village of Maddiston to begin my wander. California lay a couple of miles distant and the old trackbed climbed steadily uphill all the way. Hardly surprising, as I recalled the village sat on a ridge and I had driven sharply downhill to reach Falkirk after passing through. The path had a good surface and took me into woodland and alongside open fields. Embankments and cuttings were shallow but the shape of a railway was easily discernible to the trained eye. It was shown on the first edition of the Ordnance Survey map (surveyed 1860) as the Shieldhill Railway but had vanished from the landscape by the time of the most recent free OS publication, dating from the 1950s. The latter is a great resource as it shows almost the entire rail network prior to the swingeing cuts of the next decade, all set against a relatively modern Scotland in terms of population centres. Some lines - mainly minor mineral routes like the one I was walking - are no longer marked but almost every railway that carried passenger traffic can still be found in some shape or form - even sometimes shown as dismantled. The Shieldhill Railway joined a line that split from the present Edinburgh to Glasgow corridor near Linlithgow and ran to Airdrie via Avonbridge and Slamannan. The 1950s map shows this passenger route already pared back to Avonbridge but the annotation "track of old railway" describes the connection towards Airdrie. I've heard the OS sheets enter the public domain 50 years after issue and I wonder if a new series will be published on the National Library website in the near future? The path deposited me on the pavement a couple of hundred yards outside California and I made my way into the village, passing a convenience store before arriving at the Sunshine Village sign in the centre. Unfortunately it was rather cloudy today. I really ought to ask for my money back! I wandered along another path with excellent views of the Forth Valley across to Fife and Clackmannanshire. I knew this way eventually led down to the Union Canal but that walk would have to wait for another day. I recalled a funny story from a colleague's retirement speech which involved a stressful journey to America, beset by delays and difficulties. The punchline being he arrived in a "confused and disturbed state, known to many as California"

I began to wonder whether the Scottish settlement pre-dates the American Pacific paradise. The 1860 OS map does show a hamlet called California but the US state was formally admitted to the Union in 1850, having previously been under Mexican and Spanish rule. The name apparently derives from a fictional island in a 16th-century Spanish novel written by Garci Rodríguez de Montalvo. I think we have to concede this one to the Yanks (or Conquistadors). So how did a California arise in Scotland? One theory involves the term "black gold" used to describe the rich coal seams found in the Central Belt. Miners moved around the area looking for work, thus in some small way mimicking the fabled Gold Rush in America where people began pouring into California from 1848 onwards in search of their fortune. No doubt many were left sorely disappointed. But at least the gold - if found - would glitter. No chance of glory for the Scottish colliers hacking away underground. The walk back to the car was an easy downhill stroll and I listened to the Out of Doors programme on Radio Scotland. I had finally set foot in the Sunshine Village. One of my Facebook buddies, Catherine Bowie, got the best line in with the comment "I've heard of this other California. Apparently it isn't as good!"

Kirkcaldy to Auchtertool

Working in Kirkcaldy affords me with the opportunity of meeting up with my sister Linda, who lives in the town. Everyone now and again during the warmer months, we plan a local wander. One such example was a late-afternoon stroll from the western fringe of the Lang Toun out to the village of Auchtertool. We met in the car park at Balwearie Golf Club and set out on the trail. It was pleasantly warm and no jacket was required.

The walk began on a farm track with hedgerows and we also passed through a small stretch of woodland. The main historical point of interest en route was the ruins of Balwearie Castle, which we encountered after passing by a farmstead. A 15th century tower on the flattened side of an extensive ridge, the remaining walls of the castle rise to a height of 45 feet above the ground. Originally there were three upper storeys. Around one half of the total footprint has now collapsed. One previous resident of these parts is said to be Michael Scot, who apparently inherited the lands of Balwearie in the 13th century, although the extant castle was certainly built around the mid 1400s. He is mentioned in Dante’s Inferno - a poem considered to be one of the great classics of Western literature. Scot studied mathematics, philosophy and theology at Oxford University and then Paris. Travelling extensively around Europe, Scot gained a knowledge of many languages and became a skilled translator. He began to dress in Arabian fashion and developed a passion for the Arabic language and eastern literature, which is thought to be the root of his reputation as a wizard. He is credited variously with being Scotland's first scientist, alchemist and sorcerer, as well as the foremost public intellectual of his day. Apparently a typical example of the wandering polyglot scholar. It gets murky though. Much of the modern day legend derives from literary giant Sir Walter Scott's romanticised 19th-century fictional account of the wizard's life. Many historians remain unconvinced that Michael Scot of Balwearie was the true identity of the magic man. Old Walter certainly never missed an opportunity to embellish a folk tale. The legend of the Kirkcaldy wizard does live on locally and there is walking trail name after him in the town's Beveridge Park. An unexpected bonus was the trail switching to the trackbed of the old Kirkcaldy to Cowdenbeath (via Auchtertool) freight railway. It never carried passenger traffic and was built purely as a relief line to take the pressure off the main routes. No calls have been made for its restoration since it closed in 1963. Evidence of the line near Cowdenbeath has vanished under a new golf course but a fair bit can be traced in the vicinity of Auchtertool, including walkable stretches and the remains of a high bridge across a minor road. The village once had a small goods depot and this serviced a distillery. There is quite an interesting story about the Kirkcaldy end of the railway, or rather an offshoot near the junction with the East Coast Main Line. Grand plans had been announced for a new harbour at Seafield and a tunnel was burrowed below the main road and rail routes to take trains down to the proposed docks. In the end, the harbour project never got off the ground and was rapidly forced out of business as a result of nearby established ports playing hardball. The tunnel below the ECML can still be explored and the top of a bricked-up portal protrudes above the grass in a small playpark beside Invertiel Road.

Back to our walk. The old railway passed through undulating fields on a high embankment and it added up to a nice rural atmosphere. Eventually we left the old line as it met the B925, although the underbridge had long since been infilled. A council rubbish dump used to be located here and it was always a thrill as a kid to go on a tip run. Must have been easily pleased! The area has now been landscaped but the tell-tale methane vents poked their heads above the soil. The path now paralleled the road but often at a lower level, thus keeping the country feel. We merged on to the pavement at the edge of Auchtertool but decided not to walk into the village as we had both been there before. The pub closed several years ago. It was a restaurant for a while and I had my 40th birthday meal there. Auchtertool doesn't have any shops nowadays and I think the post office has also gone. Buses from Kirkcaldy to Dunfermline (and onward to other destinations) passed through here in recent years but only limited local services remain. Funny how a village can be cut off from the public transport map at the whim of a private operator. Thankfully we are at the stage where closing a railway would be tantamount to political suicide. Bus routes, however, don't have the same level of protection. Indeed, my home village seems to have lost it's coach connection with Dundee during the pandemic fall-out. Incredibly, Dunfermline is in the same boat and a change at Glenrothes is now required in order to reach the City of Discovery. The old direct service would have gone that way anyway and you can switch from one Stagecoach Express to another on a bargain Dayrider. Not so bad. The much-touted Travel Line Scotland app doesn't tell the full story though. It suggests passengers change at Halbeath Park & Ride to a Megabus connection which - crucially - is a different company, thereby invoking two sets of fares. Unless of course you're a pensioner and can run about as you please on a permanent free pass. It does illustrate the lack of true central planning on these matters every little obstacle simply persuades more people to stay in their car, assuming you actually have one. The walk back to Kirkcaldy was a simple re-tread but sometimes it's nice to know exactly where you are heading and you can even deliver a mini-rant without fear of missing an important turn. Now, who would do that?

Aberfoyle to Buchlyvie

I had a 40-mile railway trek in Aberdeenshire looming and needed to prepare by getting a few miles under my belt. Working on the theory that similar underfoot conditions would provide the most authentic warm-up, I buried my head in the maps and the came up with a solution. The old branch railway out to Aberfoyle from Buchlyvie was five and a half miles long and now served as a walking and cycling route. Walking the entire line each way would approximate a daily stage of the Formartine & Buchan Way, which I would soon tackle.

Aberfoyle lies on the western fringe of Perthshire close to the boundary fault that geographically separates the Highlands from the Lowlands. The town also sits on the banks of the River Forth which flows towards Stirling. Many tourists come on day trips to Aberfoyle due to the proximity of the Trossachs National Park and the walking and climbing opportunities offered. Nicole and I know the area well through visits to Flanders Moss Nature Reserve and the Queen Elizabeth Forest Park, both excellent locations for spotting a variety of flora and fauna. I drove the 40-mile journey early on a beautiful Sunday morning and was ready to hit the railway trail at 9am sharp. An old semaphore signal post indicated the starting point and I made rapid progress along the smooth tarmac surface and the Forth was never far away. The railway connection to Aberfoyle opened in 1882 and the terminus was right in the town centre, where the main car-park is situated today. The line split off the Stirling to Balloch route which had been up and running since 1856. Passenger traffic to Aberfoyle ceased in 1951 and complete closure came in 1959. The Stirling to Balloch section clung on as a goods line until the mid-60s until it too was dismantled. The information panel at the beginning of the railway path informed me that slate quarrying was an important industry in the Aberfoyle area and this was a major reason for bringing the iron road here. Tramways transported the minerals down from the surrounding hills for onward distribution upon the national rail network. The path proceeded towards the site of Gartmore Station, which lay over a mile from the village it served. Perhaps one of the reasons why the railway ultimately couldn't compete with road traffic in this area. Trains to Aberfoyle were down to three per day towards the end and it becomes a catch-22 situation. Services won't be increased if the the perceived demand isn't there. But nobody is going to be attracted towards a mode of transport where only limited provision is offered. I passed by the old station cottage - now a private residence - and headed into the wilderness of Flanders Moss. A small nature reserve of this name lies a few miles distant. A circular wooden walkway takes you around a raised peat bog, one of the last remaining intact examples of this habitat in Britain. The surface is a mosaic of sphagnum and other specialist plants that have adapted over thousands of years to a waterlogged landscape. This corner of the moss is under active conservation but the original bog was spread over a much larger area. Agricultural draining and artificial tree planting has caused widespread damage to the ancient habitat but it remained a challenging terrain to lay rail tracks across back in the day. I believe the technique was to build the line upon a bed of flexible material, which explains why I always felt I was always slightly above the general lie of the land and was no doubt following the true line of the trackbed. Between Aberfoyle and Gartmore the path had sometimes deviated slightly from the actual railway, particularly when the rails sat in a shallow cutting. These hollows quickly become sodden when drains are no longer maintained and running a new footpath at a higher level alongside would have proved the more practical solution.

A sound rang out across the open expanse. Cuckoo! Cuckoo! I had heard reports of recent sightings in this very area but - despite scanning the horizon intently - couldn't ascertain where the call originated from. It was as clear as a bell and my phone was able to record it without difficulty. But no sign of the actual bird. I've never seen a cuckoo in the flesh and this was the first time I'd encountered aural evidence for such a prolonged spell. I find the photos of cuckoo chicks amazing. They can easily grow to two or three times the size of the "adoptive" parents who are feeding them. You would think they'd notice the hulking brute taking up all the space in the nest! By now I was in Stirlingshire, having crossed the boundary marked by the Kelty Water. The sun was beating down on the exposed terrain and I was glad I'd set out in loose fitting shorts and had packed my wide-brimmed hat. Remember, I also had to walk the same route back. The path was much stonier here than in vicinity of Aberfoyle and it seems the smooth tarmac finishes are often only applied on these old railway routes within municipal dog-walking and pram-pushing boundaries. I did pass other people occasionally but to all intents and purposes I was out here on my own - which was totally fine by me! Eventually I approached the site of Buchlyvie Station which turned out to be around a mile from the village centre. Did nobody think of bringing the trains closer to civilisation when the railway was originally planned? No doubt it was a consideration but routing the rails around the fringes would almost certainly have been the cheaper option and the one that entailed fewer legal challenges. The motor bus hadn't appeared on the horizon yet and the travelling public would just have had to put up with the inconvenience. I reached the main street and had a wander around. I'm sure Nicole and I had stopped for a coffee here many years ago. Buchlyvie is on the main road from Stirling to Balloch and the A811 offers a useful connection to Loch Lomond and also Dumbarton. My mum also tells stories about visiting relatives around these parts in the dim and distant past. The Stirling to Balloch railway actually lost its status as an end-to-end passenger route in 1934. Buchlyvie Station was kept open to cater for local branch running to Aberfoyle. Having rested for a while on a bench, I turned tail and prepared to traverse Flanders Moss once again.

Now that I was re-treading familiar ground, I relaxed my no-headphones rule and tuned into a couple of radio shows I'd downloaded. I make a list each weekend of the broadcasts that look interesting and catch up with them whenever and wherever possible. I'm also working my way through old editions of a few podcasts. Interesting how radio has positively thrived since the dawn of the internet. No longer tethered to the range of a traditional transmitter mast, you can listen anywhere in the world. By the same token, shows on, say, Radio Scotland now attract an audience spread across the globe, never mind the UK. The Out of Doors show regularly features emails from North America and Australia. I caught sight of a Highland Cow in a lineside field and - rather unusually - it was black, although some of the ginger colouring seems to be shining through in the photograph. Very difficult to completely genetically rewire such a Scottish icon. Yes, the humble Heilan' Coo has a dedicated international fanbase. I had to settle for a side-on shot as the beast simply wasn't for turning! My legs were complaining as I arrived back in Aberfoyle but I had successfully completed the training exercise on a sweltering day. I raided the Co-op on the High Street for sandwiches and refreshments and slowly regained some strength. Then I was homeward bound for a seat in the back garden and a barbecue later on.