Formartine & Buchan Way

Although I already had several long distance walking trails under my belt, they had all been within my own area and I was able to return home after completing each stage. Never before had I ventured further afield with the sole intention of undertaking a major walking expedition that involved overnight stays. But with a bumper 7-weeks holiday to enjoy, now was the time to change that state of affairs. I fancied tackling an old railway trail and had seen some footage of the Royal Deeside Way up in Aberdeenshire. Running 40 miles inland from Aberdeen city centre out to Ballater, the route seemed like a prime candidate. However, further investigation revealed that only sections of the trail followed the actual course of the line. Good, but I reckoned I could find a better alternative. I recalled a spot on the excellent Out of Doors shown on Radio Scotland about the Formartine & Buchan Way - also in the fair old County of Aberdeen. I listen to the show regularly and trying to identify the mystery bird call has become a weekly ritual in the House of Fraser.

Formartine and Buchan are ancient subdivisions of Aberdeenshire and the modern trail runs from Dyce (6 miles north of Aberdeen) to Fraserburgh on the northeast coast. Again, the distance was roughly 40 miles but this time the entire walk would be upon genuine trackbed. Given the flat gradient and the summer conditions, I reckoned I could cover the distance in three days. Time to get planning! A glance at the map allowed me to quickly split the walk in three sections of equal length. A snag developed when I discovered my proposed stages did not dovetail with public transport connections. I had to reformulate my schedule and the first leg to Ellon remained unchanged at 13 miles. A mammoth trek to Strichen (17 miles) would follow. before finishing with a 10-mile yomp to Fraserburgh. After each walk I could return by express bus to Aberdeen and regular services ran until the evening, relieving me of any pressure to step on the gas. A weekly regional explorer pass was available for the region but buying individual return tickets over three days would be slightly cheaper. Accommodation in Aberdeen proved plentiful and Booking.com offered a selection of budget guest houses in the city centre. I picked a room that had a microwave and fridge - handy for preparing breakfast and lunch the night before and the option of making a cheap evening meal. Shared bathroom, but that wasn't a concern. I was just looking for a convenient location to get my head down each night. I secured a return trip from Dunfermline to Aberdeen with Megabus and the time slots meant I would arrive at lunchtime and come home in the evening. I booked a four-night stay and waited for the adventure to begin. The journey north went smoothly and I had lunch in a graveyard just off Union Street before setting out on a circular city walk. I had done a couple of day trips to the Granite City before and was reasonably familiar with the main thoroughfare. I hadn't quite expected to see so many empty retail units however. Especially as Aberdeen had long enjoyed a reputation as a fairly affluent place. One plus point was the total renovation of the city gardens, although it did mean they were out of bounds for the duration of my stay.

The unmistakable grey edifice of granite is everywhere in Aberdeen. One of the finest examples in the city centre is the former Greyfriar's Church. It was built in Gothic style as recently as 1903 but ceased functioning as a kirk in 2004. Attempts to sell the building proved frustrating but recent reports suggest it is destined to be converted into a bar and restaurant. Whether that actually happens in the post-Covid landscape remains to be seen. The church is currently listed on the Buildings at Risk Register although - thankfully - at a very low level of concern. One to watch with interest. I passed by the Mercat Cross and picked up King Street which would lead me towards the university quarter - situated in old Aberdeen. Students were wandering around in graduation gowns outside the impressive King's College which added to the academic atmosphere. The university was founded way back in 1495 and is one of the four ancient Scottish institutions, the others being Edinburgh, Glasgow and St Andrews. Strolling around the cobbled streets was a nice experience and I passed the original Mercat Cross and Town House. I was carrying my backpack but travelling fairly light and wasn't impeded in this respect. I took a break by wandering into the Cruickshank Botanic Garden - maintained by the university but open to the public free of charge. Colourful flowers and shrubbery abounded and I sat on a bench for a while before moving on. My next stop was St Machar's Cathedral where I explored the grounds. Just outside the gates was an excellent viewpoint which looked upon the manicured gardens of Seaton Park. Open to all since 1947, the park skirts the River Don and is a popular meeting place for students. I checked out the ornamental fountain and joined a path alongside the Don. The plan was to head towards the estuary then saunter along the promenade, back towards the city centre. Aberdeen is of course sandwiched between the Don and Dee rivers and I intended to explore the latter on my final day. I observed a water rescue team going through a training process as I followed the undulating trail along the bank and through the woods.

I eventually reached the esplanade and took a hike up the sand dunes for views of the North Sea coastline. The skies turned grey but it remained dry as I walked on the tarmac alongside the beach. I could see a funfair in the distance and I wanted to have a look at the fabled Beach Ballroom. Apparently it contains one of the finest sprung dancefloors in Scotland and is now Category-B listed. Corporate and leisure events take place here but the place was closed as I walked past. Nice to see the exterior though. I zig-zagged my way back to Union Street and went in search of my accommodation. It was just a 5-minute walk away and close to the old Post Office building - a mighty granite (what else?) construction now largely vacant and looking rather forlorn. The guest house was a simple affair and a young chap answered the door and showed me to my room. The furnishings were tired but serviceable. It was cheap and would do just nicely. The bathroom along the corridor was in excellent condition and looked to have been recently installed. Perfect! A large Co-op was situated nearby and I fetched some supplies before settling in for the night. The weather forecast for the whole week was excellent and I had packed shorts & t-shirts as my walking gear. I retrieved my breakfast rolls from the fridge and washed them down with a hearty mug of herbal tea. I set off for the railway station which was only a 10-minute walk away. The journey to the satellite town of Dyce cost just £2.80 and took eight minutes on a mostly empty train. Aberdeen Airport is located in Dyce and the train deposited me within sight of the runway. All was spookily quiet in these pandemic times and I found the start of the Formartine & Buchan Way at the end of the station car-park. It was here the line to Fraserburgh diverged from the trunk Inverness route. Passenger services were discontinued in 1965 although freight traffic ran until 1979. Thereafter, the entire route was converted into a walking and cycling path, including the 14 mile branch from Maud to Peterhead which closed in 1970. I had decided to omit the latter railway line from my schedule in order to concentrate on a linear walk. Today was cool with a slight breeze and I set off along a tarmac path. After a mile or so, the slick surface gave way to gravel and was often stony in places. My size-11 walking boots of course tramped on regardless but it did occur to me that a sturdy mountain bike would be the best bet for cyclists. I had 13 miles ahead of me and it was just leaving 9am. A leisurely pace - with stops factored in for refreshments, photos and rest breaks - would allow me reach Ellon by mid-afternoon. Dyce was surrounded by a modern road network and industrial units but I soon escaped into the rolling Aberdeenshire countryside. This is real farming territory and the first settlement of note was Newmachar - where refreshments are available. The path loops around the village and I kept going as I'd already packed my provisions for the day.

The railway was heavily dependant upon fish traffic, bringing the catches from the major ports of Fraserburgh and Peterhead (known locally as the Broch and the Blue Toon respectively) to the national market. My dad remembers the fish train from Peterhead rattling through Fife. I passed through a deep cutting where I'm sure I saw a fox peeking out from the undergrowth. Generally the terrain was a shallow embankment running through undulating fields. I encountered the occasional minor road and the whole area was obviously sparsely populated. The trackbed itself was also quiet and most of the time I had the trail to myself. A yellowhammer sat up nicely on a fencepost, allowing me to take several nice photographs. I had already planned to have lunch at the site of Udny Station and the setting did not disappoint. The old platform (as shown on the first picture in this post) was in immaculate condition and the perfect place to pause for half an hour. Udny Station is also the name of the small surrounding village and I can only assume it came into being as a result of building the railway. In a strange twist of fate, the line closed forever just as the Aberdeen oil boom was waiting in the wings. The quiet rural scene at Udny today might have turned out differently. I ate my sandwiches and rehydrated myself before pushing on with the final five miles to Ellon. The weather was still cool but a big rise in temperature was forecast for the following two days. I passed Logierieve Station where a private house now stands upon the old platform. I wondered if those properties could be picked up for a song back in the day, when British Rail must have been keen to divest itself of redundant assets. I should imagine it's not cheap nowadays to buy yourself an old station. As I approached Ellon, the route reverted to tarmac and I was obviously now well within local dog-walking territory. A fine viaduct took me across the River Ythan, apparently the biggest estuary in the land that has remained in its natural state rather than being artificially channelled and deepened. Fine views of the Ythan Valley could be obtained from the parapet and from here it was around three quarters of a mile into the centre of Ellon. With a population of 10,000 and a relatively isolated location, Ellon offered many facilities and I grabbed myself a drink and sat by the river. A bus back to Aberdeen was due in half an hour and I scribbled out a couple of postcards. I bought myself a period return ticket as I would be travelling back the next day. A comfortable coach arrived and I settled into my seat for the hour-long trip to the Granite City. The bus station at Aberdeen is incorporated into a shopping centre (with plenty of places to eat) and the railway station is on the other side of the same complex. This makes it easy to change between the two modes of transport. I had a monster trek ahead of me the next day so I wandered back to my room to relax. Andy Murray was playing at Wimbledon and I batted every ball as I watched on my iPad.

Next morning it was back up to Ellon for a 9pm start to my walk. Prior to this week's visit, the only thing I knew about the town was that footballer Gary Riddell - a promising strapping central defender whom I used to watch play for Dunfermline - was from, and indeed born, here. He died at the shockingly young age of 22 while running in the Dunfermline half marathon to raise funds for charity. Strange how people can go like that despite an obvious high level of fitness. Once out of town, it was the familiar arable landscape with occasional stone bridges hoisting farm tracks or minor roads above the line. A wooded stretch made a pleasant change and I observed great tits from close quarters (no sniggers at the back please). Every so often, I would pass an old workers hut at the side of the line. They were mostly in good condition despite the fact they probably hadn't been maintained in decades. After 7 miles I arrived in Auchnagatt and spotted a picnic table in a small park by the main road. I was just a stone's throw from the old station with lengthy platform still intact. A most pleasant spot for lunch and I was bang on schedule time wise. I knew if I maintained a steady pace I would be in my final destination of Strichen with around an hour to spare before the bus was due. There was actually a later connection two and a half hours down the line but obviously I didn't want to be hanging around for that. Motivation enough not to dawdle too often. A long straight section paralleled the road for a while and there were many birds tweeting in the hedgerows. A few old level crossings for farm access were still in evidence. I then swung away into quiet countryside and the pivotal point of Maud Junction was around four miles distant. Railway walking is obviously fairly flat but as you clock up the miles, you really do appreciate a lengthy section where the gradient is in your favour. Towns and villages usually grew around rivers and since water flows through a valley, the approach tends to run downhill. Naturally this means a slight rise on the other side as you push back into open country - although I suppose the gradient would continue to drop if the line stuck to the river. Anyway, I could feel myself heading downhill as I got closer to Maud and I knew I could rest there. That was good enough for me. I was certain my curiosity as a railway historian would be satisfied as I'd heard the infrastructure at Maud was largely intact.

As previously stated, I would be ignoring the branch from Maud to Peterhead on this expedition. It is classed as part of the Formartine & Buchan Way but this stage would have to wait until a later date. I will definitely keep this promise as I've long fancied a look around Peterhead Prison Museum. The former maximum security Victorian facility closed in 2013 and was notorious for housing serious sex offenders. The new HMP Grampian (also in Peterhead) replaced the old jail, along with the the medium security prison in Aberdeen. The new museum highlights the work of the personnel that served at Peterhead during the prison's 125-year existence. As stated on the website - "you will visually see what real prison life was like, whilst listening to the officers speak of their experiences as part of the audio tour that accompanies your visit and your sense of smell will be stimulated as you enter the laundry, shower block and hospital areas."

Sounds right up my street! A couple of days up in the Blue Toon would allow me to do the museum and the railway walk. Perhaps a saunter down the coast as well. One for the diary. Back at Maud, the old junction was coming into view and the trackbed split to serve two long platforms with an island in the middle where the station buildings stood. Unfortunately everything was locked up today (Wednesday). The museum has limited weekend opening times but in any case may well have been shut due to pandemic restrictions had I dropped by on a Saturday or Sunday. A couple of old wagons and brake vans stood on a section of track and I had a good wander around the place before finding a bench to take the weight off my feet. The museum web pages don't appear to have been updated since 2016 and communication has migrated to Facebook - a fairly common occurrence. It's quicker and easier to maintain a Social Media presence as opposed to a fully-fledged website and there is a wealth of material to flick through on the Maud Museum timeline. However, I still feel it's important to put the latest key information on the traditional web (e.g. future opening dates and times, admission prices, planned events). That way you convey essential visitor information in a fixed location while the latest photos und gossip can be fired on to a more interactive platform. It was nice to experience the ambience of a real station footprint with the various buildings, lighting, exits and signage. Definitely the highlight of the walk from a railway enthusiast's point of view. Maud village seemed a bustling little place with a few shops and a café. I made sure I was on the path bound for Strichen and not Peterhead! (I'm sure someone must have made that mistake before). The sun was beating down now and I readied myself for the final five and a half miles. No rest for the wicked!

Once away from Maud I entered open terrain and I paused on the parapet of a footbridge after a couple of miles. I re-applied sun cream, especially to the back of my neck and my forehead. I don't burn too easily but I wasn't taking any chances. For some reason I decided to watch the closing stages of the 1973 Grand National during my break. Regardless of whether you have any interest in the finer points of horse racing, it's surely one of the greatest ever sporting finishes as the highly-fancied Crisp, out in front by a comfortable distance following the final jump (but increasingly labouring under an onerous handicap weight), is gradually overhauled by Red Rum during the 450-yard run-in which features a stamina-sapping uphill kink known as the elbow. Red Rum of course went on to become one of the most famous racehorses of all time, certainly over jumps. He won the event an unprecedented three times (and twice came second). An incredible victory, but what really puts the icing on the cake while watching the BBC footage of Rummy's maiden National success is the commentary of Sir Peter O'Sullevan. The word "legend" is often tossed around with impunity these days but I don't think it even covers the whole of old Peter's career. The national broadcaster's leading horse racing commentator for half a century, Peter called home an incredible 50 Grand National winners. The race itself traditionally has a few commentators swapping the mike at various points of the race but of course Peter was always in position for the final leg. Sports commentary is one of these professions we probably all imagine we can have a go at. Yet to reach the pinnacle and generate huge levels of excitement, enormous skill is required. The only other exponent that comes close to Peter in my opinion is the voice of Formula One racing, Murray Walker, who sadly died recently (both men coincidentally passed away at the age of 97). Meticulous planners, they spent hours swotting up on the stats and colours to ensure they got it right on the day (Murray didn't always achieve this, but it merely fed into his charm). I wonder if it's significant that both began on the radio? I digress (and cheekily fill up some space between pictures on the blog). There are no settlements along the path until Strichen and it was a case of ploughing on across a quiet landscape as the legs began to weary. The start of a long slow descent indicated the end of the road wasn't too far away and I watched a bullfinch hop around in a shallow cutting. I spotted what looked like an old ruined house in the distance but there was no time (or energy) available for any urbex activities today. I reached Strichen town centre about 45 minutes before my bus was due and bought myself a snack and a drink to consume in view of the castellated village town hall.

A double decker Stagecoach Express arrived and I relaxed in the luxurious leather seats upstairs for the journey back to Aberdeen. I must admit the buses do a good job of transporting people around Aberdeenshire and the service seems frequent and comprehensive. I'm sure I've heard of proposals to reopen the railways to Peterhead and Fraserburgh but you have to ask yourself whether the county has a sufficient population density to make passenger services viable, bearing in mind the huge investment required to rebuild the route to modern standards. You can't base these calculations on seasonal holiday traffic or occasional events like international golf tournaments. Heritage railways abound across the UK - often in the rural shires. Yet virtually none have ever managed to establish a reliable service outside the peak summer months. Bear in mind this is an organisation where the workers donate their labour for free. Hard-nosed analysis is required. There's also the sheer size of the county to consider, with Aberdeen City being the only major centre of population. Perhaps the inclusion of freight strengthens the argument for one or two key routes to be re-established. But we're never going back to the days of a rural county being criss-crossed by lots of railway lines. The present solution may well be the best. Bring people by rail to Aberdeen, then let comfortable buses roam at will. I arrived in the city centre and decided to have a wander around the harbour - a short stroll from the bus station - before turning in for the evening. Huge industrial craft was docked at the port but the public have to view from behind the perimeter fence. The main business is handling equipment for the offshore oil and gas operations. On the final day of my trail, I arrived in Strichen at around 10am on a sunny morning. The walk began with a very pleasant stretch alongside the North Ugie Water. I had been intrigued about the white horse on the village crest and I soon caught sight of the equine god on a hillside to the north of Strichen. Laid out in quartz stones, it is said to have been placed here to commemorate an incident during the Battle of Tourcoing in 1794, part of the Flanders Campaign. Captain Fraser - 9th Laird of Strichen - had his horse killed underneath him during the retreat. A sergeant by the name of Henderson offered to give Captain Fraser his horse, but was himself killed in the process. On returning to Strichen, the Laird built the white horse as a memorial to the fallen soldier who offered his assistance. I was soon back in open countryside and glad that I only had 10 miles ahead of me today. The cumulative effects of several days walking were niggling away at my legs. After a pleasant lunch stop, I took photos of the wild flowers that adorned the edges of the line. I also passed a colony of black-headed gulls next to a pond and watched their young strutting about.

Finally I saw the outline of The Broch upon the horizon. The final long straight stretch took me past Fraserburgh Golf Course and towards the sand dunes on the edge of town. It was my first time in the place that bore name. Curiously, my dad has never been here either, one of the few corners of Scotland he hasn't visited. Family research suggests my ancestors came from Banffshire and Inverness-shire to the east. But the Broch is definitely Fraser home turf. No doubt about that! I hiked up the dunes for a fantastic view of the bay, beach and Harbour Lighthouse (dating from 1882). I found a nice little sand cavity to sink into before the march into the town centre. Families were enjoying the sunny weather on the beach. The Broch is Scotland's biggest shellfish port and large quantities of whitefish are also landed. The commercial harbour area emitted the sounds and smells you'd expect to find in a busy fishing port and I cut up a side street to make my way to the town centre. A traditional bakery furnished me with a couple of pies and I sat down to bask in the glory of completing a 40-mile trail. The High Street had obviously seen better days but that's now normality in small-town Scotland. I picked up a couple of postcards depicting the famous Kinnaird Head Lighthouse, constructed in 1787 inside a converted castle and now part of the award-winning Museum of Scottish Lighthouses. I wasn't sure if the museum was open but - in any case - I was too exhausted to go traipsing round a tourist attraction. My mission was complete and I sought out the bus station and headed back to the Granite City with a smile upon my face. I bought food to take out and enjoyed dinner in the square at the end of Union Street, finalising my plans for the last day. I wasn't due to depart until 7pm and I fancied walking the the first section of the Royal Deeside Way from the city to the village of Peterculter. This 7-mile wander would be along converted trackbed and it would be a nice way to round off my railway-themed walking tour. In for a penny, in for a pound. I would be carrying full kit but I'd already done the circular tour of Aberdeen without that being an issue. I said goodbye to my guest house and navigated my way to the start point in Duthie Park. The Deeside Railway ran inland to Ballater, just over 40 miles away. It provided a Royal connection to Balmoral Castle but most of the route closed in 1966, with the stub to Peterculter disappearing the following year. The walking route has a tarmac surface all the way to the old station at Peterculter (often shortened to Culter) and is heavily used by local people at the city end.

Several suburban stations served the Aberdonian population and the first one I came across was Holburn - with concrete platform still in evidence. This halt closed as far back as 1937, no doubt due to competition from buses or trams. The substantial bridge spanning the streets below was demolished in 1981 which could have a been a barrier to bringing the walkway right into the city centre. Thankfully a new pedestrian bridge was erected and I passed high above the cars below. An information board was located upon the site of each old station which was a nice touch. It's always good to learn about the the communities that surrounded the railway. In the case of Cults, a sleepy outlying settlement grew rapidly as a result of a 12-minute ride into the city on the "Subbie" line. Cults Station survived until the end of the route's operation and the old wooden building is now used by a local business. I was gaining height all the way and by the time I reached the city limits I could look down upon the River Dee in the valley. A short detour from the trackbed was required to cross the A90 dual carriageway which has severed the old course of the line. A slender footbridge carried me over the trunk road and I rejoined the embankment on the other side. It was plain sailing from here into Culter. The village once had a large paper mill and the railway served this concern. The passenger station was the only one besides Cults to survive the 1937 cull on the eastern end of the line. I was welcomed by the original name board (or at least a very good facsimile) and I planted myself upon the platform edge to enjoy I meal deal I had fetched from the nearby Co-op. I had made good time and decided to walk back to Aberdeen rather jump on a bus. To vary my route, I wandered down to the banks of the Dee and hooked back up the old railway further downstream. I passed the Culter Heritage Centre but was once again stymied by the double whammy of weekend opening hours and Covid. I enjoyed the river stroll and had the advantage of a downhill gradient on the railway all the back to Aberdeen. 14 miles in total did begin to take it's toll and I made use of a few bench seats on the return leg. I jumped off the line again at Allan Park in search of an old crossing of the Dee. Erected in 1837, the Shakkin' Briggie linked a church on the south side of the river to 700 parishioners resident on the north bank, who were at the time crossing by boat to worship every Sunday. The lack of any significant metal stiffening of the bridge deck led to a flexibility which gave the bridge its popular name. Due to erosion, the Dee shifted its course from 1955 onwards, sweeping away the southern approach spans and in 1984 the decking was removed as a safety precaution. The bridge is a Category B listed structure and is now derelict.

At present, it is unclear if any body has legal responsibility for the bridge. A newspaper headline in 1958 stated that it was The Bridge That Nobody Owns. Although its legal status remains unclear, the City Council is currently active in considering the bridge's future. An interesting tale and a little bit of urbex squeezed into my trip. I made the steep slog back up to the railway and continued back towards the city centre. My rucksack seemed to grow increasingly heavy and I decided that I would do nothing more than sit around once I reached the shopping centre next to the bus station. First stop was Burger King, where I managed to find a seat in the strictly socially distanced interior and slowly savoured a Whopper meal. As if by magic, my strength gradually began to return! Just upstairs was a large Starbucks and I ordered myself a large mocha and settled down with my iPad to wait out the time before my bus rolled in. Strangely, I've never been one for frequenting coffee shops, despite the fact the concept of burrowing your nose in a book in the corner appeals to me greatly. Now that Wetherspoons business practices during the pandemic have been exposed, perhaps I'll seek out a caffeine boost after future treks as opposed to a quiet pint. I was down in the bus queue with plenty of time to spare but needn't have hurried. An accident further south on the A90 had caused delays which meant my coach arrived almost an hour behind schedule. To their credit, Megabus were making efforts to shoehorn passengers on to alternative connections but I was in no real rush and was happy to wait. A leisurely journey homewards ensued and I plugged myself into a couple of podcasts. Nicole picked me up at the Halbeath Park & Ride and I finally relaxed at home. My first multi-day walking expedition under my belt. I thoroughly enjoyed the experience and must plan another one.

Loanhead & Penicuik

I hadn't done a railway walk in a while and a couple of paths had been filed away in a mental drawer. Midlothian was hit just as hard as any other densely populated industrial county in previous decades regarding cuts to passenger and freight routes. The reopening of part of the old line down to the Borders has been a highly positive step, although cost-cutting measures robbed the route of its true potential. But that's a rant for another post. I had picked out walking trails around Loanhead and Penicuik that followed old train paths and it was time to drive round the Edinburgh bypass and see what I could find.

To the best of my knowledge, Penicuik was a place I'd only ever passed though, en route to Peebles a few years ago. Curiously, that trip involved a bit of railway exploration too. I walked through the Neidpath tunnel then visited Traquair House - allegedly Scotland's oldest inhabited dwelling and now fully open to the public. With a brewery and maze within the grounds, what's not to like? The house gates were famously locked after Bonnie Prince Charlie rode out to continue the Jacobite campaign. It is said they will never reopen until a Stuart monarch once again sits on the throne. Will we ever witness such an event? I did unearth a hitherto unknown nugget about Penicuik that was relevant to me. My folks had viewed a property there after getting married but settled upon Tranent instead. And so off I headed to the place where I might have spent my childhood in an alternative universe. I had scouted out a street that offered parking near the start of the trail and I feasted my eyes upon the information board before hitting the trackbed. I knew Midlothian had a rich coalmining heritage but I wasn't aware of Penicuik being a big player in the paper industry. Several mills were located along this stretch of the River North Esk, including a complex called Valleyfield. I had actually seen references to this place in the British Newspaper Archive while searching for information on Valleyfield House, West Fife. So I was finally coming face to face with the interloper! Penicuik had also been the site of Scotland's first cotton mill, established in 1775. The Fife papermaking scene was finally extinguished in the early years of the 21st century, due to increased competition from the far east. Tullis Russel in Glenrothes (where my wife Nicole worked) was the last one standing when it closed in 2015. It was a similar story in Midlothian with Auchendinny giving up the ghost in 2005. Off I set on the trail and the initial stage followed a shaded route along the course of the river. I hadn't researched the infrastructure of the line in any great detail but I knew from previous social media posts to expect a couple of viaducts and tunnels.

As the path began to diverge from the North Esk, I entered an open grassy landscape and my eye was caught by colourful material hanging from trees on the river bank. It appeared to be football tops and Scotland flags. My initial reaction was to assume it to be an example of a clootie well - a curious remnant of a pre-Christian tradition where visitors would leave an offering of a cloth (or cloot) to local spirits and gods at a site near a well or a spring - usually in the hope of having an illness cured. The theory was as the cloot rotted away, the sickness would dissipate. I first saw a clootie well in Munlochy on the Black Isle. One of the strangest places I had ever come across. All manner of apparel dangling from branches. Quietly disconcerting but fascinating at the same time. I decided I had to go and check out this new site of ancient worship. As I wandered between the fabric and read some of the messages it dawned on me this was in fact a shrine to a local football fan. Kane McGinley was a 25-year-old firefighter and Celtic fan who passed away suddenly after emergency services were called to the scene. The rather vague nature of the reporting tends to suggest he might have taken his own life. I was unable to confirm this though. I hadn't found another clootie well but the place was unsettling all the same. I pressed on and soon met a short curved tunnel preceded by an iron bow-shaped bridge. A longer (and straighter) tunnel was located just before a lengthy stone viaduct at Auchendinny. The Penicuik railway opened to passenger and goods traffic in 1872. It was a four and a half mile branch line that came off the Edinburgh to Galashiels loop (via Peebles), which itself diverged from the main Carlisle-bound Borders line at Eskbank. Passenger services to Penicuik ceased in 1951 but freight continued until final closure in 1967. The route through Peebles fared little better, being shut permanently in 1962. There are no serious proposals to reopen any parts of this system. The principal Borders line - a victim of the infamous Beeching Axe back in 1969 - has of course enjoyed well-publicised success since its partial reopening in 2015. The current terminus is the Tweedbank Park & Ride. The facility has proved popular - even outstripping passenger footfall at the major town of Galashiels - and there are calls for the parking area to be extended.

Some aspects of the reopening have proved short sighted. It seems crazy that the project stopped a couple of miles short of the historic town of Melrose. Surely this would have drawn extra tourist traffic, considering the town's connections to Robert the Bruce and also the Roman army. The original double-track formation wasn't fully restored and the route relies on a series of passing loops, which constrains capacity. Perhaps the silliest decision was to install a single-track concrete bridge over the A7, permanently baking in a pinch-point near Edinburgh when the amount of money saved was surely small beer when set against the total costs. But that's bean counters for you! A pound saved is, well, a pound saved. And bugger the consequences! Anyway, back to today's wander. The elegant Firth Viaduct at Auchendinny contains 10 arches and is built on a curve. I took a walk up a farm road to view the structure from a distance and take a photograph. Back on the trackbed, I passed the entrance to Roslin Glen which offered country walks. An added bonus was a sighting of Rosslyn Chapel from the rear across the fields. This was actually a far better view than what is on offer at the main entrance. Ever since the runaway success of the Da Vinci Code novel established the chapel as an international tourist destination, a high boundary fence has been erected around the front gates, almost obliterating any prospect of taking a meaningful photograph from the street. But the dedicated walker always finds a way. Another railway treasure was in store as I strode alongside the platform of the old Rosslyn Castle station. Some of these places just have a retro atmosphere about them. This was a prime example. If I had been carrying a packed lunch, this would have been the perfect place to stop for a snack. I pushed on and was soon skirting Rosewell. The village green was visible through the trees so I popped over for a stroll around, finding an interesting church to photograph. I knew the next places I would encounter as I approached the end of the line were Bonnyrigg and Lasswade (often grouped together, even on road signs). A good mile outside the town centre, the path was flanked by rows of new housing. I surmised this development had sprung up in response to the reopening of the Borders Railway. The rejuvenated line passes through nearby Eskbank. Empirical evidence that a new line brings economic activity - especially if it provides a connection to a major city.

Which begs the question, should the Penicuik branch be considered for reinstatement? Bringing back a line just because there used to be one doesn't provide a sound business case in itself, given that many of these spur routes were carrying tiny amounts of passengers in their final days and had never turned a profit even in the time of railway mania. Work and travel patterns have undoubtedly changed though. Many people from Penicuik and surrounding settlements would have been employed locally when the mills were in full production. Buses proved more successful at transporting passengers short distances in previous decades as they offered cheaper and more frequent services as well as providing a far more practical choice of where to alight. Nowadays there would be far more demand for commuter traffic into Edinburgh and this can be problematic by road as the bypass is jammed at peak periods. A rail option would surely receive a healthy take-up, as witnessed in towns and villages alongside the Borders route. Calls to reopen the Penicuik corridor could find themselves rebutted however as it would be deemed an expensive outlay for a relative short stretch of track. Park & ride facilities seem to be the favoured scheme for tempting people from surrounding settlements to use a railway station or bus hub. I pondered these theories as I reached the extant platforms of Bonnyrigg Station. A nice touch was the attachment of period-style station signs to a handful of lampposts along the footpath. My walk ended at Tesco in Eskbank and I grabbed a bite to eat and wandered round the corner to catch a bus back to Penicuik. As luck would have it, one was due in a couple of minutes and I was surprised to find the fare was just £1.80 for a journey considerably longer than the 7 miles as the crow would fly. It appears Lothian buses offer flat-rate single tickets across their territory. Card payment also avoids the scramble for loose change I remember so well from my student days. The bus passed Glencorse Barracks - a place that pops up in my family history on my mum's paternal (Howieson) side. In fact, the next port of call in Midlothian has a strong connection to my ancestry. My grandfather David Howieson lived in Loanhead as a boy and his dad managed the Ramsay Colliery.

A railway path runs from Loanhead to Roslin in one direction and and a few miles towards Edinburgh in the other. I decided to split the exploration over two visits as the weather forecast for the first day wasn't too promising but I reckoned I could squeeze in a short walk to Roslin and also visit IKEA and Stewart Brewing just outside the town. The longer expedition could wait until the end of the week when it was expected to be dry. To the best of my knowledge, I hadn't been in Loanhead town centre before but the walking route was easy enough to find as it ran below the High Street. The Loanhead & Roslin Railway opened for business in 1874 and came off the Waverley Route to Carlisle (via the Borders) at Millerhill. It was constructed primarily with mineral traffic in mind but passengers were carried until 1933 (especially for excursions to Roslin). The route also connected to Glencorse Barracks. The introduction of local bus services eroded railway passenger traffic to the point where it was deemed no longer viable. As was the case with many lengthy mineral lines, the tracks were pared back as the surrounding heavy industry declined. Bilston Glen Colliery - opened as a show-piece pit in 1961 - kept the last remaining section open until the late 1980s. As I set foot on the trackbed, I quickly reached the Bilston Glen Viaduct which is notable for being the longest lattice-work span ever built in Scotland. The overall length is 148 yards and the bottom of the glen lies 140 feet below. The viaduct opened in 1892 and replaced an earlier structure (designed by Thomas Bouch of Tay Bridge infamy) that had become destabilised due to old mine workings below the surface. The structure could expand by two inches on a hot day and was therefore mounted on rollers to permit this movement. Roslin Colliery closed in 1969 and the viaduct fell into disuse as the operations at Bilston Glen took place on the other side. A refurbishment project began in the late 90s when the old line was converted to a footpath and the rusted bridge bearings were replaced and concrete decking installed. The viaduct now benefits the community while serving as a spectacular reminder of an industrial past. It would however be rude to walk across without at least attempting to get down into the glen for an inspection of the metalwork.

Approaching the first pier was relative easy and involved nothing more than taking an informal steep path down the embankment into the woods and making my way towards the bridge. It was slightly slippy underfoot but I took my time and soon had a partial view of the supports and the decking above. I quickly realised I wouldn't get much further as the ground fell away steeply into the vegetation. Even if there had been a way down, I wouldn't have seen anything worthy as the foliage was pretty dense. I had to be content with the sighting I had, which wasn't actually too bad. I made my way back up and traversed the viaduct, admiring the view across the treetops. Then the rain began to fall. Roslin village was just over a mile distant and I made tracks (no pun intended). I've long said you always learn something new on a walk and today was to be no exception. I passed a circular monument to the Battle of Roslin and - not knowing anything about the event - made a mental not to research it when I got home. It took place in 1303 and was described in a Scotsman newspaper article as Scotland's forgotten battle and apparently the bloodiest ever fought on British soil. Ye Gods! Roslin witnessed a Scots force of 8,000 clash with an English army almost four times as large and astonishingly the home combatants emerged victorious. It is estimated that 35,000 men lost their lives yet the battle appears to have faded into obscurity and is often omitted from school textbooks. The Scots were led by Sir John Comyn, Lord of Badenoch, and Simon Fraser. They had caught wind of the English advance and took on their forces one by one. The invaders had split into three divisions, but the Scots prevailed on each occasion. Quite a tale! Why have so few people in Scotland heard of the battle? A bitter feud had existed between Comyn and Robert the Bruce for a number of years. Things came to a head in 1306 after a quarrel at Greyfriars Church in Dumfries. Bruce stabbed Comyn to death. It is therefore very possible that Bruce played a part in starving his rival of his rightful place in history. This obviously doesn’t explain why the event continues to be almost universally ignored 700 years later - even by Roslin locals. Well well, who would have thought it? Everyone knows about the famous victories at Bannockburn (1314) and Stirling Bridge (1297) but Roslin has stayed well below the radar for centuries. Today was indeed a school day!

I reached Roslin village and cut down to have a look at the chapel. I'd been inside a couple of times before and wasn't tempted to pay the £9.50 admission charge. As stated earlier in this post, the view from the street is largely obscured by a high boundary wall. I turned around and headed back to the battle monument. I decided to take a longer circular route back to the viaduct that would allow me to check out an old pit railway en route. I dipped into the woods which offered some respite from the steady drizzle. I soon discovered the route I had intended to take was closed due to the bridge over a stream having collapsed. I hastily formulated an alternative circuit that involved a bit of road walking. It did however take in more of the offshoot mineral line, including what looked on the map to be another viaduct. Should be interesting. Skirting Bilston village, I hooked up with my core path and immediately found a 3-arched stone bridge. Even better, the route took me up and over. The viaduct parapets were obviously unstable as the narrow walkway ran along the middle of the deck between two low breezeblock walls. Unfortunately the way was partially overgrown and sodden vegetation brushing against your trousers soon soaks them. I followed the way markers through the woods and saw a surprise structure standing in a field adjacent to the treeline. Dryden Tower was once part of a grand country estate and was left in situ after the mansion was demolished in 1938. It has been protected by a B-listing since 1971 and a restoration project was launched in 2015 by Edinburgh University, who had purchased the surrounding land to create an outlying campus. In an interesting quirk, master stonemason Donald McIntyre, not content with mundane tasks such as repointing and replacing damaged stonework, carved a new gargoyle into the three-storey tower. Might as well leave your mark! On I plodded, becoming slightly lost after working my way up the remaining coal bings. The sight of Bilston Glen Viaduct almost floating among the trees reminded me which way to go. Once back at the car, I checked my bearings and made a beeline for the Stewart Brewing shop. I first became aware of the company more than a decade ago when they sold mini-casks of ale at Perth Farmers Market. Initially run by just two people, the brewery now employs a staff of 30 working across a range of departments from retail to production. The Stewart logo is attached to beer pumps in pubs across Edinburgh and Central Scotland. The traditional Scottish 80-shilling style has been more or less abandoned by major brewers and Stewart have filled that void in the capital city where a "pint of 80" is still a popular request at the bar. Stewart also produce a range of lighter hoppier beers in line with the current craft movement. A real success story!

Upon pulling up at the premises deep inside an industrial estate on the edge of Loanhead, it was immediately apparent the place had undergone an expansion. I had dropped by once before and the shop and taproom occupied the same space. The latter is now housed in a new building that doubles as a pizza restaurant. The brewery also has its own craft beer kitchen where members of the public can produce their own batch of craft ale and return a few weeks later to bottle it up after the fermentation period. You can even design your own label. I walked into the retail shop and located a few bottles of 80 shilling among a sea of cans and merchandise. Many craft breweries are going primarily down the can route as these vessels are cheaper to source and transport. I guess the old-style drinkers still favour their 80-bob in a bottle though. I had a pleasant chat with the sales assistant and was then on my merry way. Next stop was IKEA where I was on the hunt for a wing chair. The sofa at home hadn't been agreeing with my back (the perils of being nearly 50!) and I fancied something with a little more support. As luck would have it, they had a model that suited my needs and it was only £200. Not bad for my own little station for reading, watching TV and listening to music. I love the IKEA café but gave it a miss today as it was pre-booking only. Another hangover from the pandemic still making its presence felt. I returned to Loanhead a couple of days later to walk the old line in the opposite direction, towards Edinburgh. Three and a half miles each way. I soon passed below the city bypass (A720) which was constructed throughout the 1980s. As the Loanhead Railway was still open for coal traffic, provision had to be made for allowing trains to pass under the dual carriageway. The same was not true of the Waverley Borders Route which had closed completely in 1969. The trackbed was severed - some say purposely - by the new road. Today's walk wasn't all that memorable, passing through an uninspiring landscape and finishing at a housing scheme. It was however another railway route ticked of the list and part of the attraction is you never know what you're going to get. Many new homes had been built near Shawfair Station on the new Borders line, again underlining the regenerating powers of a reopened railway. The track had to be realigned here and the new rails now burrow below the bypass.

I listened to radio podcasts on the way back to Loanhead. I make it a rule to walk without audio distractions on a new route but if I'm re-treading the same ground on the way back to the start then a bit of in-ear entertainment is allowable. Back in the town centre, I spotted a couple of memorials to the departed mining industry. Nothing unusual here, you might think. What struck me was the tone of the messages carved into the stone. It stated clearly that mining belonged firmly in the past and society was far better off now that young men are no longer obligated to go down the pit. We tend to associate the decline of industry with mass unemployment and economic hardship. The positive side to this changing way of life is the human aspect, although it probably wasn't thought of in those terms when mines were closing left, right and centre. Yet many miners wanted something different for their own flesh and blood. There's a great line in the first Rocky film where Sylvester Stallone - upon learning his son wishes to enter the ring - says "son, I fight so that you don't have to". It's easy to get all dewy-eyed about a vanished past but the reality for those living and working within coal mining circles wasn't all sweetness and light. What I found most shocking was the list of men killed in the modern Bilston Glen Colliery - a state of the art pit launched in a blaze of publicity about its modern facilities and safety features. The sad truth is that mining fatalities at Bilston Glen continued well into the the 1980s i.e. for the pit's lifetime. A stark reminder that these events weren't confined to the dim and distant past. Something to reflect upon as I drove home. My trip did spring a nice surprise a few weeks down the line. Having been impressed with the ever-growing set-up at Stewart Brewing, I wrote them a letter saying I'd been on board since the start and that I wished them every success in the post-pandemic future. A gratis case of 80 shilling duly arrived on my doorstep a couple of days later, along with a thank-you note. I drank to that!

Westleys Farm

It was a glorious Sunday afternoon and we planned to head up towards Sheriffmuir in search of the wheatear. The Where to Watch Birds in Scotland app had suggested this as a good location and we had previously taken a couple of drives through the area. Sheriffmuir is moorland and forest between Bridge of Allan and Dunblane. An inconclusive battle was fought here in 1715 during the first Jacobite uprising and a tall monument stands next to the Dunblane road. Deeper into the woods lies the Gathering Stone but that's another tale.

Before we headed into the wilds, I planned to squeeze in a spot of urbex activity. I had noticed what appeared to be an abandoned farm, right next to the M9 and not far from the junction for Bridge of Allan and Dunblane. The maps revealed a minor road crossing over the motorway and passing right by the farm. A mental note had been made to check out the place whenever I found myself in the area. No time like the present! My original idea had been to walk out from Bridge of Allan but today we just decided to drive along the single-track road. We found a spot to park just before the M9 fly over and walked across. We were looking down upon the farmstead and across the fields in the other direction there appeared to be a large stately home. Later research revealed it to be the A-listed Keir House - ancestral home of the Stirling family from 1760 to 1975, whereupon it was sold to businessman Mahdi Al Tajir from the United Arab Emirates. Now aged 89, he is a billionaire and one of Scotland's richest men. A notable 20th century figure from the Stirling dynasty was Sir David Stirling who founded the elite Special Air Service (SAS) - a military unit whose duties include counter terrorism, hostage rescue and covert reconnaissance. Keir House and Westley's farm are situated in the obscure parish of Lecropt. The current population is around 75 and consists entirely of isolated properties. Historically the parish created a geographical anomaly as it straddled the boundary of Perthshire and Stirlingshire. It was allocated to Perthshire in 1890 when the coming of modern local government (in the form of county councils) required such quirks to be ironed out. The historic counties ceased to play an administrative role in 1975 (Fife excepted) and Lepcroft is now governed by the Council Area of Stirling, which people sometimes wrongly equate with Stirlingshire. In fact, the two territories are markedly different. The flat landscape is known locally as the carse of Lecropt and there appears to be a 6-mile circular walk using largely traffic free roads such as the one we were standing on. I added it to my never ending list which I strive to chip away at whenever I can.

From my elevated position, I could see the farm complex contained a shuttered house and several outbuildings. Abandoned machinery and vehicles were dotted around the place. Definitely worth checking out in more detail. All I needed to do was hop over the metal gate. Nicole isn't normally too enthused about climbing over obstacles to reach ruined places and she decided to remain on the minor road while I poked around. I wandered into the farmyard and looked around. Suddenly my good lady wife was standing next to me. She had simply pushed the gate open. There was a great deal for the keen urban explorer to see. An old combine harvester and tractor stood alongside other agricultural equipment under a dilapidated shed. The farmstead was deserted and it nice to have a leisurely opportunity to explore and take photographs. The thrum of traffic from the motorway was of course ever present and I wondered if the owners (or tenants) had simply had enough of their rural idyll being shattered. Try as I might, I was unable to unearth the reason for the farm becoming abandoned. The adjacent fields were cultivated and ran right up to the ghostly steadings. Perhaps new living and working quarters had been found nearby, or it could be that Westley's was bought over by a neighbouring farmer who had no use for additional property? (that might already have been in a state of disrepair). So many possibilities. I conducted a good old-fashioned thorough explore and had a look in a few barns and sheds, wandered around the courtyard and traced the layout of the gardens. There was no access to the big house as every window and door was secured by steel grilles. No matter, I was more than happy just to have a stroll around. To be honest, I had expected the place to be seriously wrecked, given the fact the farm isn't exactly hidden from view. But it's probably far enough out of reach from local teenagers and anyone else who might fancy vandalising the place. A great urbex stop-over and it was soon time to be on our way.