Dalzell Estate

We always enjoy visiting a new RSPB reserve. Baron's Haugh is located just outside Motherwell and is bounded by the River Clyde. The birdwatching territory was once part of the enormous Dalzell Estate and the remaining grounds are now in the hands of the local council and serve as a public greenspace. We had stopped here a couple of years previously for a quick look at the nearest hide but today would be a full explore. Living close to the motorway network means we can easily reach the main Lanarkshire towns inside an hour.

The RSPB have run the reserve here since 1983. The riverside area was formerly grazing land for the estate and I had also visited these parts when following the Clyde Walkway. Dalzell Estate has a rich and fascinating history. It started life as a Royal Hunting Forest in 843, and was owned by the Dalzell family until 1647 when it was granted to James Hamilton.

This family seat persisted until 1952 when -following the death of Lord Gavin Hamilton - the dynasty upped sticks for Surrey and the mansion became a boys school. Does this tale have a familiar ring? By 1967, the big house was unoccupied and it lay in a state of dereliction until the local authority purchased the building in 1985 for the princely sum of one pound. A tasteful conversion was done and several private apartments now provide a purpose for this early 16th-century property. Upon arrival, I fancied scouting out the house and having a look at the Japanese Garden, while Nicole opted to head straight for the bird hides. I took a handy photo of the estate map and soon found the entrance to the far-eastern themed quiet spot - apparently designed to provide a place for spiritual contemplation. Every Japanese Garden I've visited seems to have an arched wooden bridge over a stream and this one did not deviate. A pleasant wander of just a few hundred yards brought me to the mansion's main entrance. On the way stood the ancient Covenanters Oak - allegedly the oldest living thing in North Lanarkshire. This mighty tree offered shelter to the Covenanters of the 1800s, who were barred from holding religious services within churches. Interesting stuff!

The grand house was an impressive sight. There was no way of omitting the parked cars from the picture but with a building this spectacular, you take whatever shot you can get. It's incredible to think literally hundreds of similar properties were lost throughout Scotland during the 20th century. Yes, some of them were vanity projects or the result of one wealthy estate owner frantically trying to outdo his neighbour. If you think we have a problem with inequality today, it was magnified tenfold back then. My point of contention is that once these places were built, it was insanity to knock them down again. Maybe not entirely breaking rocks for the sake of making a noise (there were obviously complex financial considerations to ponder), but think of the sheer skill involved in the construction and set that against the banality of the wrecking ball. Nah, it wasn't really progress or a case of sticking it to the toffs. We simply blootered a lot of our architectural heritage. I cut across to the RSPB zone and found the first and second hides empty. Nicole must have moved on swiftly. The third shelter stood alongside the river and three smirking youths shuffled away as I approached. I initially thought they were poking fun at my beardy persona and the fact I was laden with camera and binoculars. No doubt that was part of it. I sat beside Nicole and she said that while the boys hadn't been remotely threatening, they had been pushing boundaries by making inappropriate remarks. A result of socialisation - we decided - as they clearly hadn't developed these mindsets completely independently. As Nicole rightly pointed out, she can confidently hold her own among wee laddies but it is sad that some women would be apprehensive about sitting alone in a nature reserve lest they be the recipient of unwanted attention.

It's a point of discussion I've seen several times on wildlife and walking forums. Females can be reluctant to venture out on their own within a rural setting, even less so if the trip involves woodland. This makes no sense from a purely statistical standpoint. You are far more likely to encounter trouble in a city centre, and how many woman say they are fearful of going on a shopping spree? In fact I once saw an ex-police officer reply to one of these "is it ok to go walking by myself" queries, saying that in 30 years on the force, he couldn't recall a single incident of a solo female hiker being molested in the countryside, yet had to deal with all manner of horrible crimes within an urban setting. The bogeyman isn't really skulking behind a tree but these seeds are planted and people understandably become wary. I think there's also the idea that if you happen to be unlucky, there's no way to call for help, much in the same way that if a plane goes down, your number is up, despite the fact there is a massively bigger chance at the outset of losing your life in a car accident. Yet fear of flying is common and people jump on road transport willy nilly. You could debate this all night long but an underlying fact is that attitudes to women among men and boys do undoubtedly have to shift. One to muse upon today. There wasn't a huge deal happening out on the water so we ambled along to the final hide - only to encounter a grown man smoking a joint. Credit where it's due, he did nip it out, make his excuses and leave. But really? In your 30s and sitting getting stoned on a nature reserve in the middle of the afternoon? Far out, dude. There's definitely a different clientele to be found when you're bordering urban sprawl as opposed to being out in the country. The discarded cans and bottles in the hides also indicate that not everyone's primary reason for visiting is the viewing of wildlife. I still haven't come across a couple shagging, although it's sure to happen at some point.

Rather than retrace our steps, we decided to cut through part of the estate grounds under council ownership. This suited me as there were sure to be a few interesting artefacts along the way. Just as we were leaving the nature compound, we got spectacularly lucky. A flowering meadow lay behind a low fence and a few deer were wandering around in the distance. As we scanned the area, Nicole suddenly spotted a fox looking straight back at us. I've seen a couple of urban foxes skulking around before but never one in a natural setting. It stood motionless for a good few minutes, perhaps checking us out, seeing who would make the first move. I had already taken my camera out and was able to zoom in for a few close-ups with minimal body language. What a great photographic situation! A couple with a young daughter - barely more than a toddler - wandered up and we were able to point out the fox to her through Nicole's binoculars. She was of course delighted and we certainly did our bit there to promote awareness of wildlife. I also attempted to squeeze old Reynard into the same frame as the deer and managed this successfully, although the size of that Basil Brush (remember him?) visage was greatly reduced. Sometimes you go to a nature reserve and one thing happens that makes the entire day worthwhile. This was certainly one such occasion, and particularly pleasing that it occurred after a couple of experiences that hadn't left us overwhelmed with the place. Pics in the bag, we turned up a path that followed a Clyde tributary back into the woods.

I found a curious little building hiding away in a leafy corner which turned out to be the Hamilton family mausoleum. It's not unusual to come across these old tombs on once-grand estates. Opulence was obviously extended to the afterlife. Overlooking the scene stands the remains of Lord Gavin’s Temple. He had this built as a place to watch over the last resting place of his beloved wife, Lady Sybil Hamilton. St Patrick’s Well was nearby and has been renowned for centuries as having healing powers. It is located near the original site of St Patrick’s Chapel, which was demolished in the 1890s, although the adjacent graveyard contains memorials dating back to this time. It was good to combine a bit of treasure hunting with the wildlife activities. We had worked up quite an appetite and headed into Motherwell for a bite to eat before setting off home. An excellent little day out.

Coul Beer and Ceres

My stash of ale had run out and a Facebook post offered the opportunity of replenishment. A socially-distanced market was being staged in the coastal town of Methil near the football stadium at the former dockland area. Among the stallholders would be Coul Brewery from Glenrothes. I'd previously sampled this microbrewery's wares at beer festivals and other markets. I had been impressed with their offerings and it is also part of my raison d'etre to support local ale producers. Throw in the chance to visit Fleecefaulds Meadow - a hidden nature reserve just a few miles inland - and it had all the makings of a nice wee day out.

I started drinking in the late 80s and caught the tail end of an age when pubs proliferated in ex-mining towns and the majority of punters strayed no further than supping a handful of dull keg brews. Lager was becoming increasingly dominant but there remained a large market for 70 shilling, Special, Heavy (delete according to area) while the "old man's" tipple was often 60, Ordinary, Light (apply the same process). Edinburgh drinkers had their fancy 80 shilling and Guinness was pretty much omnipresent. That, my friend, was pretty much the bar-top selection in any number of working men's pubs across the county. Tennent's and Scottish & Newcastle controlled much of the pub estate while Maclays of Alloa were still hanging on. Not knowing any better, I regarded Tennent's 70 as "proper" beer - purely because it was dark and obviously not lager (which I assumed was full of chemicals - whatever that meant). I recall my dad talking about the days when pints were pumped out the barrel on air pressure but I had no personal experience of such contraptions and proceeded along my merry Tartan Special way. I remember a couple of university flatmates talking about a Dundee pub that sold cask conditioned ales, although I had no real idea of what that might entail. I did find myself in said establishment one night but was there for the music and while I may well have selected a beer from the long-handled pumps (like the ones used in the Queen Vic on TV), it did not propel me along the road to Damascus. The time simply wasn't right. How many 20-year-old blokes actually seek out quality ale? At that age you're too busy having a good time at a stage of life when you probably don't have many responsibilities. Too often CAMRA members worry about not enticing enough young people into the world of cask. I say chill man. Today's trendy 22-year-old trendy premium lager drinker is tomorrow's potential 40-something real-ale aficionado. It's the natural order of things, helpfully buoyed by the fact many youngsters now actually do drink carefully-brewed beers under the "craft" banner. Confused? You certainly ought to be. Digression over.

It was a pleasant day for a stroll around the market. We always seem to end up spending more money than planned at these events but it's all in support of local artisan traders. I had a chat with the bloke at the beer stall and picked up a couple of bottles of 80 shilling, plus a lager and an IPA. They were offering any four ales in a box for £12 and the product was gleefully stashed in the car boot - awaiting future consumption. Lockdown has apparently been kind to small brewers as the local public have supported them and made use of flexible home delivery services. Every cloud and all that. We were parked just outside the modern all-seater home of East Fife FC and I couldn't help reminiscing about their old-style terraced ground in the middle of Methil. I saw some ding-dong battles there with the crowd almost within touching distance of the players. Things had to change but a bit of atmosphere was lost along the way. We then headed for the ancient village of Ceres, near Cupar, planning to have a look at Fleecefaulds Meadow en route. We had to take a couple of minor roads and I knew the meadow was the type of place the Wildlife Trust don't widely publicise (I only found out about it via their members magazine). I had anticipated the exact location might be hard to pinpoint and we did indeed drive past without noticing the entrance. No matter - we stopped at Craighall Den just before Ceres and went for a wander through the woodland. The highlight was an old limekiln dating from 1814 - an increasingly rare example of a substantial intact rectangular-plan single pot kiln with four draw arches. Ok, I just looked that last bit up on the Listed Buildings Register but I also learned the reason why limekilns were often built into the side of a hill. It was to facilitate easy access to the top of the furnace for delivery of raw materials. Who says walking isn't an educational pastime?

It would have been silly not to drive into Ceres itself as the village is a real hidden gem within the Kingdom of Fife. It boasts the world's oldest continuous Highland Games tournament - said to have been staged every year since Robert the Bruce gave royal assent to honour the participation of local men in the Battle of Bannockburn (1314). If this unbroken run actually is genuine, one can only hope that Corona did not puncture that almighty bubble. Surely a gaggle of hairy dudes tossed a few cabers around this year, even if no audience was permitted. On our first trip to Ceres a couple of years ago, we visited the excellent Fife Folk Museum. We immersed ourselves in the exhibition which is housed in several old cottages. Definitely worth seeking out if you are interested in seeing how working people lived in days gone by. The adjoining tearoom is a wonderful place to relax before or after your visit. A bonus for birdwatchers is the frequent sighting of a dipper in the stream that runs past the museum entrance. A stone humpback bridge makes an excellent viewpoint to watch our only aquatic songbird whizz up and down its territory. We have stopped by several times just for a quick spot of twitching. In fact, one such occasion formed the basis for writing my first ever blog post! The Fife Pilgrim Way passes through the village - a 64-mile walking trail that winds an inland course through the county. Initial legs from Culross and North Queensferry converge upon Dunfermline Abbey and from there a single route is bound for St Andrews. The path opened in 2019 and approximates the passage of Pilgrims who crossed the Firth of Forth on their holy journey. I still haven't got round to tackling the trail sequentially but have previously walked a few of the sections welded together to form this exciting new pathway through Fife (it does briefly stray into Kinross-Shire!) - the perfect counterpart of our esteemed coastal path.

Ceres is an affluent settlement but the Pilgrim Way was deliberately threaded through other areas less fortunate in an economic sense. Walkers do bring cash to local businesses and let's hope the new route brings people to parts of the Kingdom they may not have seen before, but are beautiful in their own right. The museum was closed today and we contented ourselves with a stroll up and down the burn but unfortunately the dipper also appeared to have gone into self isolation. No birdie joy, but then something else caught my eye. A large house next to the water had a sign outside the gates saying visitors were welcome to have a wander round the gardens. Might as well check it out, I thought. The property was named St John's Lodge and we quickly found the labyrinth on the front lawn among the many trees and shrubs. Apparently a labyrinth differs from a maze in that it has no dead ends, you simply keep walking and come out the other end. We bumped into a lady tending the plants. She and her husband were the owners and they both made us very welcome. We got a guided tour of the upper terrace which was once the kitchen garden and still liberally stocked with vegetable plots and fruit trees. Down below were the mysterious arched vaults whose origins have never been fully ascertained. We asked about the location of Fleecefaulds Meadow and it transpired we had indeed driven straight past it. This garden visit however was proving to be more than ample compensation. I found an PDF online which supplied more information regarding the history of the lodge and its substantial grounds. Over to the author of this document.

The building's restoration was the first major project of the Central and North Fife Preservation Society. The lodge forms part of the Ceres conservation area, which stretches from here to Meldrum's Hotel, taking in the main part of the village and several other buildings of special historic interest. Formerly the home of the Masonic Lodge of Ceres St John's, the place had fallen into a sad state of disrepair and by the 1960s was in use partly as a hen house but otherwise uninhabitable. In 1964, restoration work was carried out during which a stone bearing the date 1724 was apparently unearthed. Despite this find, the house is thought to be of later origin, probably around 1765. Funds for the project were provided by the National Trust for Scotland and the Historic Buildings Council. After a short period on public display, the property was sold as a private dwelling. Here we stood, talking with the present owner occupiers who had moved up from England. The man was a retired professor of philosophy and had taught at Dundee University. The lady picked up on Nicole's accent and revealed her own mother was from Berlin. It's extraordinary how often that sort of thing happens. Before we departed on our merry way, I wanted to have a quick scout around the vaults. The owners had tried - in vain - to find a concrete explanation of their purpose. A series of arches cut into the stone led to dark chambers, now mainly used for the storage of gardening equipment. I couldn't help thinking that I would probably have some home brew on the go here! Perhaps I could glean further information from the village trail document.

Standing at St John's Lodge, a glimpse can be seen of the arcaded vaults within the grounds. They may have been practically engaged as storage for an orchard which occupied the site, but their proximity to the Masonic Lodge also suggests they were the work of apprentice stonecutters. So there you have it, a sort of training project for budding stone masons. It's as good a theory as any! I love these days when your exploring takes an unexpected turn and something is revealed of which you had no prior knowledge. On returning to the coast road, we spotted the small sign for Fleecefaulds Meadow. It only appeared to be displayed on one side of the road (which gave me a ready-made excuse for my previous oversight) and that's probably because entry from the Ceres-bound direction would require a jack-knife turn. Time was pressing on and I kept on driving. We had already seen more vegetation than we bargained for and I felt it best to leave the meadow undisturbed. Besides, I had beer to sample!

Tummel Valley Tour

With no particular plans made for the day, Nicole said she fancied a trip up the A9 to Killiecrankie. I swiftly agreed as I'd had my eye on a potentially interesting urbex venture up in that neck of the woods. We battered up the M90 to Perth and then on the infamous A9 - often labelled Scotland's most dangerous road. I've traversed it many a time as it is the direct route to the north and my parents formerly had a static caravan in Sutherland. The road's reputation is somewhat unjustified; statistics show it doesn't have the worst accident rate but it does suffer from high-profile crashes during the very busy summer season. The installation of average-speed cameras has helped cool things down, while raising the HGV speed limit seems to have reduced the number of crazy overtaking manoeuvres.

The A9 is currently being upgraded to constant dual carriageway between Perth and Inverness. We hit a 5-mile stretch of roadworks just north of the Fair City which took a while to negotiate but thereafter the route was quiet. Very strange to drive towards Highland Perthshire without huge numbers of tourists on the roads. Killiecrankie lies just north of Pitlochry and we pulled into the visitor's centre. The final couple of miles was along a twisty B-road which was probably part of the old A9 before significant improvements were made in the 1970s. Back then you would have had to pass through many towns and villages en route to Inverness. The new road basically followed the same route but cut the settlements out of the equation. From the car-park we could see the elevated modern A9 carriageway embedded in the rocky sides of the valley. Clearly the dualling of certain stretches will pose significant engineering puzzles. The visitors centre was closed due to Covid and we headed out on to one of the woodland trails. A nice bonus was the sight of the main railway line winding through the treetops on a curving viaduct. We soon arrived at a clearing looking down upon the fabled Soldiers Leap - a location on the River Garry at the northern end of the Pass of Killiecrankie. Soldier's Leap marks the spot in the narrow wooded gorge where government redcoat Donald MacBean is said to have avoided certain capture (or death) at the hands of pursuing Jacobite forces by jumping 18.5 feet across the water after the Battle of Killiecrankie in 1689. I must admit I took one look at the chasm and instantly thought "no way". A good yarn though.

We decided not to climb down to the valley floor and made our way back to the car. We followed the course of the River Tummel - which meets the Garry near Pitlochry - and stopped at another visitors centre, this one named Queen's View. Sited at a point where the river broadens into Loch Tummel, Queen's View was apparently given its name after long-reigning Victoria visited the area in 1866 and expressed her immense admiration for the surrounding landscape. Another tale which has suspect origins, but I'm prepared to run with it. The vista is indeed breathtaking, sweeping down the loch with the Schiehallion mountain brooding in the background. A fine mist on the water obscured matters but I would certainly like to return here on a clear day. It is apparently one of Scotland's most photographed locations. The visitors complex included a café and shop and we popped into the latter to show some support. We were the only customers and indeed only a handful of other people had been milling around at the viewpoint. I bought a pocket-sized book on wild flower identification which should prove useful. Before we moved on, we asked the proprietor if she might recommend a local forest walk. Description duly noted, we proceeded to drive the full length of Loch Tummel, passing through the holiday village of Tummel Bridge. It was time to get into urbex mode. This was an explore I'd been looking forward to for a while. A big one. The mighty Dunalastair.

This would be my first trip to a ruined country mansion in a truly isolated setting. The other abandoned estates I'd visited had all been within a short drive of a town. I knew from online research this place had been crumbling for decades but hopefully the harder-to-reach location would mean the building was less prone to vandalism and attempts at fire raising. I had already used Google Maps to determine the entrance point from the B846 and the satellite images showed an estate track leading past a few cottages and down towards the site of the grand house. I would surely be able to head in and find somewhere to park. The journey went smoothly and we drove straight into the car-park of the Old Laundry holiday cottage. The place seemed deserted and was almost certainly another Corona closure. Nicole's excitement was starting to mount as she was about to set off on her first proper explore. No more sitting in the car waiting for me to return, but actual boots on the ground. Heady stuff! As it turned out, we only had to walk a short distance to the house and it was indeed a cracker. The wider estate is still very much a working concern and the website has this to say about the former Gothic-style mansion. Dunalastair House was designed by Perth-based architect Andrew Heiton who also conceptualised the Atholl Palace Hotel and Dunkeld railway station. Construction was completed in 1852. It was only used in a residential sense until the First World War. At this point in time, the staff needed to run such a large property became short in supply. As the second global conflict broke out, the house was requisitioned as a school for refugee Polish children - a period during which it was considerably damaged. A fire in the living room caused the loss of a Millais painting.

The contents were sold in the 1950s after the current owner’s grandmother’s death. Standing empty and unprotected, the property was badly vandalised when lead was stripped from the roof. In those days it was not viable to repair the damage and no restoration grants were available. The condition of the building deteriorated rapidly with most removable parts stolen over time. Various ideas have been put forward for the future, but the rebuilding costs would be enormous and nothing has so far come to fruition. There we have it - another spectacular ruin with a colourful history culminating in neglect. The original owner was General Sir John Macdonald of Dalchosnie. Later occupants were Hugh Tennent (boss of the famous brewery) and James Clark Bunten - chairman of the Caledonian Railway. The property was finally vacated in 1952 meaning it functioned - in one way or another - for exactly 100 years. The shell will probably still be extant in 2052 - testimony to the solidity of the construction if nothing else. Despite the superb location in the shadow of Schiehallion, overlooking the eastern end of Loch Rannoch, this house is no doubt doomed to continuing decay. The current estate owner is apparently open to the idea of restoration but is unwilling to consider conversion into a hotel or flats as it wouldn't be in keeping with peaceful nature of the area. I guess that pretty much rules out any further development. Who on earth is going to take this building on as a family home?

It was possible to walk around the entire building without hindrance. The MacDonald family crest was still proudly on display and I'm always amazed at the hardiness of these carved emblems. The mansion towered above us and it was often challenging to find a spot with enough clearance behind me to fit the upper turrets and cones into the picture frame. Safety fencing encircled the main building but I spotted a couple of weak points where I could have slipped inside. However I was in full health & safety conscious mode with my missus in tow. Not that there would have been a great deal to experience within the compound in any case. The internal flooring had gone and the house was basically an elaborate set of stone walls. Still, it's often interesting to poke around and have a closer look at the masonry. You sometimes find the odd nugget lying around. On the other side of the coin, you have to be very careful where you place your feet and then there is the lush vegetation to contend with. As I worked my way around the rear, I managed to scramble up a grassy mound which provided a nice downward angle for photos. There were a couple of minor outbuildings but my focus remained on the big house. I thought I might have met a fellow explorer but it was just the two of us for the duration of our visit. Nicole expressed her admiration of the architecture and seemed to be enjoying herself. Not a bad location for your first urbex adventure! Satisfied with our lot, we returned to the Old Laundry and made our way out of the estate. The website lists several holiday properties scattered throughout the grounds. It looks as if the place has found its niche in the market and I wouldn't expect any announcement saying the profits were to be ploughed into relaunching the palatial Dunalastair House.

I did receive one unexpected query after I posted my pictures online. A colleague - Penny Brown - was about to go on holiday in the area and wanted directions to the old house. I gratefully supplied the details and - sure enough - a report of the expedition popped up on Penny's feed a week later. Always happy to help a fellow urban explorer. We paused in the village of Tummel Bridge to have a look at the river crossing and the place was deathly quiet, due to the large chalet park being empty. Our next stop was at Allean Wood on the fringes of the vast Tay Forest Park. From here we would tackle the walk recommended to us back in the Queen's View visitors centre. Various route permutations were shown on the information board and we opted for a two-mile loop that would take in an abandoned farmstead. The path quickly gained height and Schiehallion could be picked out in the distance. The blue stretch of Loch Tummel glistened as a strip of blue among the pervading green. I began to realise just why Perthshire is sometimes referred to as Big Tree Country. The walk was mixed terrain: a grassy footpath giving way to a gravel forest road then plunging down the green slopes between the ferns. The old farm cottages were located towards the end of our trail and provided an interesting historical addition to a pleasant woodland wander (or hike, as the tired legs began to protest). The layout included the foundations of abandoned buildings as well as a restored dwelling with a turfed roof. I went inside for a look and it is indeed handy that we now carry torches in our pockets at all times as part of our mobile device.

We decided to stop at Pitlochry for dinner on the way home. Before we reached the A9, I had the pleasure of being squeezed towards a hedge as a truck hared round a bend on the narrow road which was only just wide enough to accommodate two vehicles. I guess people tend to get out of your way when you're driving a big beast. The locals know every inch of these minor routes but the visitor is well advised to proceed with caution and always expect the unexpected! Pitlochry was eerily quiet and not only could I pick my parking spot on the main drag, I was able to execute a U-turn without the slightest difficulty. Normally the High Street would be thronging with tourists visiting the pubs and restaurants or spilling out the theatre. Today there were a mere handful of amenities open and virtually nobody milling around. But it was a start, just a couple of days since serious lockdown had been lifted. Only al fresco dining was permitted and we grabbed a table next to the pavement at the fish & chips place. The neighbouring garden of a private house had been taken over by the chippy and tables were laid out on the patio. Two fish suppers were ordered and consumed with gusto. A great British tradition, and I'm secure enough in my Scottish identity to embrace customs that span the length and breadth of this fantastic island. The light was dimming as we sped back down the A9. It had been a snap decision to come up here but a worthy trip.