Wooler

Nicole and I were both off work for a couple of days and we booked an overnight stay in Northumberland at short notice. We wanted to visit the coastal village of Bamburgh where a magnificent castle overlooks the lengthy beach and the North Sea. Just along the coast is Budle Bay which is a great spot for birdwatching. We found a good accommodation deal in the nearby market town of Wooler. Dental appointments meant we couldn't set off until mid afternoon but we hoped to reach our destination before darkness fell. It only takes a couple of hours to bomb down the A1 and reach the northern extremity of England. We negotiated the Edinburgh bypass without any problems and hit the open road. The A1 is Britain's longest numbered road - connecting Edinburgh and London - but there are still substantial single-carriageway sections in Berwickshire and Northumberland. Once past Dunbar you encounter many junctions with B-roads and unclassified tracks. Nevertheless it always seems to be fairly quiet on this stretch. I'm guessing the majority of HGV traffic bound for central Scotland uses the M6/M74 corridor. We did indeed reach Wooler at dusk.

Locating our digs wasn't a problem as they were right next to the Black Bull pub on the High Street. A 17th century coaching inn, the Bull's stable block has been converted into accommodation units. An Italian restaurant was sited at the end of the alleyway while another public house - The Angel - stood on the other side. Clearly we weren't going to be stuck for somewhere to eat and drink! Having booked a budget room at £36, I expected the standard to be pretty basic but we were pleasantly surprised upon entry. It was nicely appointed with lots of little touches: supplied shower gel and caps, a mini fridge, dressing gowns hanging in the cupboard. The kind of things long since phased out by most hotels. Definitely somewhere I would stay again. We had a walk up and down the main drag (it was dark now) and plumped for dinner at the Bull. I use the WhatPub website to research alehouses when visiting a strange town. Run by CAMRA, it lists all potential watering holes and is frequently updated. I purchased the Good Beer Guide for many years but it can only cover a fraction of what's out there. Mind you, it does act as an assurance of quality. I therefore knew in advance the Black Bull sold a couple of cask ales and I sampled both of them. Traditional bitters, right up my street. The decor was clearly a throwback to a previous decade but the pub was welcoming and I treated myself to a large mixed grill. Nicole opted for the same on the grounds she would most likely end up jealous of my plateful if she ordered something else. As good a reason as any! We ate in the spacious lounge and the food was delicious. We chatted to a couple from Berkshire who were in town for a few days. A couple of locals weighed in with their incredibly thick accents. Suitably fed and watered, we headed off to bed. I planned to be up early the next morning as I had a mission.

I had googled a phrase along the lines of "abandoned mansion Wooler" and instantly hit upon an old estate known as Ewart Park. Apparently the house had been standing empty for decades and access was possible. A quick check of the map revealed the location to be just three miles outside Wooler. I was in business! An unclassified road ran within a stone's throw of the property and was available on StreetView. I sussed out a potential parking place and noted a cottage next to the estate entrance. The track leading in was barred only by a farm gate. It's great having all these tools at your fingertips to check out the terrain in advance. I headed off in daylight at around 7.30 and found my destination without any problems. I passed an old railway signal box on the way. Clearly there must have been a train service to these parts in days gone by. I parked on a low grass verge near the inhabited cottage and easily negotiated a wooden spar fence next to the metal gate. A sign warned of potential prosecution of trespassers. In Scotland you're on rock-solid ground with this type of thing but I think English landowners can technically pursue intruders through the civil courts. Not that I let any of this worry me. I was visiting a long-abandoned site in the middle of nowhere. Who exactly would threaten to sue me? Nevertheless I do like to be discrete while exploring and quietly slipped into the old grounds. I saw outbuildings to my left but took the path straight ahead as I had no idea if there were perhaps people living in the old gatehouse. I needn't have worried as I soon glimpsed the mansion through the tress and quickly ascertained the whole place was deserted. Moreover, the front door was slightly ajar.

Somewhat surprisingly, the roof hadn't been removed as is often the case with abandoned stately homes in Scotland. There had obviously been water ingress as some of the floorboards looked rotten but I stuck close to the wall and passed through a few rooms on the ground level. I found this intriguing map pasted on a wall. It must be pre-1947 as the partition of the Indian subcontinent is not shown. This all makes sense as the house was commandeered by the military during wartime and used as a hospital. A fate that was to befall many country piles up and down the land and in some cases it breathed a little extra life into grand mansions on the brink of extinction due to mounting death duties and changing public attitudes towards residences of the landed gentry. Ewart Park was initially abandoned in 1937 when the property passed to a new owner who simply didn't have the means to run the place. It has been unoccupied since the end of the hostilities and subject to quiet decay ever since. I was able to make my way to the upper levels as the main staircase felt solid enough. The state of the flooring in the various rooms was haphazard with obvious gaps in places. I therefore contented myself with glancing through the doorways. All furniture has been stripped out but the fireplaces and plasterwork were nice to look at. I finished my short tour by climbing the stone steps inside the crenellated turret. Access to the top is still available but the wooden ladder was missing a couple of rungs and others looked unsafe. I decided to leave it. I took a few photos of the building's exterior. It is indeed a beautiful sight. After poking around the overgrown walled garden, I walked back to the car with that wonderful feeling of exhilaration that occurs after a successful explore. Why do I pursue this interest? I love the process of tracking down these ruined sites online then going out to actually find them. Finding myself completely alone on an abandoned estate with the freedom to rummage around brings me a great deal of inner peace. Although I happily visit forgotten industrial plants, there is something special about a grand residence being gradually reclaimed by nature. So many ghosts from the past and a way of life vanished forever. I am a solo urban explorer and it never occurs to me to seek out company for this activity. If asked however to show someone else a few places, I would gladly do that too.

It was back to Wooler for breakfast and a proper look at the town centre. There are a number of traditional independent shops and we found ourselves in the rambling premises of an antique dealer. We also chatted to the proprietor of the old-fashioned sweet shop and I bought myself some cola cubes and jelly beans - both favourites from my childhood. Quarter pound bags of course, none of this 100 gram malarkey. The shop was apparently "just surviving" and the lady behind the counter civilly dismissed the alleged economic boost brought by walkers (Wooler is the gateway to the Cheviot Hills and a stopover on the long distance St Cuthbert's Way). She said walkers bring their own supplies with them. I reckon she was speaking purely from her own standpoint as the visitors surely spend money somewhere. In any case, I certainly wouldn't be averse to a wee sugar burst after trudging through the hills for hours on end. A more concerning revelation was the fact that charity shops tend to move in when a long standing outlet goes to the wall. This is an issue in many town centres and the fact that charity shops receive free stock and don't pay commercial rates allows them to proliferate. I browsed the bookshop & stationer's, purchasing a paperback about the history of the Scotland/England border regions. I find myself unable to visit these establishments without buying something. I dispatched a postcard to my mum then followed Nicole into the delicatessen. Again, we went through the ritual of not walking out empty handed. The shopkeeper made small talk with us and enquired where Nicole was originally from. Upon hearing the answer he immediately launched into German, speaking it fairly well. We even received a small discount! As we left, the woman who had been standing behind us tentatively ventured "Bonjour Monsieur" which brought about a swift mock rebuttal. Happy days. It was now time to make the 15-mile trip to Bamburgh on the coast.

Bamburgh Castle is an imposing juggernaut on a rocky outcrop overlooking the North Sea. The village is tucked in behind and the extensive beach attracts visitors from far and wide. We had previously done the castle tour en route to a hostel in Kirk Yetholm on the Scottish side of the border. Incidentally, that's when we first discovered Wooler. Today we drove along to Budle Bay, an oasis for wading birds. We had chanced upon this location on another Northumberland road trip, noticing several people with scopes set up. There is ample off-road parking and it was nice to see an observation platform had been constructed. Present today were redshank, curlews and shelduck. I snapped this shot of a curlew strutting around the mud flats. I've been an admirer of these long-billed waders for years. It was a nippy day with a biting breeze and we didn't linger too long at the bay. One of our Bamburgh rituals is to pop into the Copper Kettle tearoom but first we decided to wander down to the beach. We passed a fine crop of snowdrops on the way. The sands stretch into the distance beyond the castle but we homed in on the rocks where turnstone were in abundance. There is a white stag engraved on a cliff face near the lighthouse but it was a bit too slippy to go scrambling across the stones today. Besides, the tide was working its way in. We turned around and walked along the shore, watching a godwit happily splash among the breaking waves.

By this time the rain was lashing down and we cut up past the castle back to the village green. The Copper Kettle provided welcome respite from the elements and fortunately there were a couple of free tables. My eye was immediately caught by the ploughman's platter on the menu. Although I'm not a tea connoisseur, I do enjoy visiting quaint establishments like the Copper Kettle. The food was excellent and I opted for a pot of green tea, then another. It also gave me a chance to sift through my pictures and upload the best shots. Fully refreshed and ready to hit the road back home, we entered the gift shop next door and were confronted by an impressive selection of bird artwork for sale. Created in watercolours by a local artist, the paintings were framed and retailing at £100. Since it was St Valentine's Day, we proposed a gift to each other and opted for a gaggle of puffins on a rock. The picture now takes pride of place in our living room alongside some of Nicole's own efforts. She is making rapid progress with her painting and has already sold one item. A professional artist in the Fraser family? Who' da thunk it?

Girlschool

There have always been women in rock bands. Going right back to the early 1960s, the Liverbirds achieved European success. One of the defining groups of the hippy era - Jefferson Airplane - had Grace Slick at the helm. In the 70s there was Suzi Quatro, Fanny and the Runaways, plus Elkie Brooks fronting Vinegar Joe. Unfortunately, the female presence in the scene has regrettably been a minority one over the decades. The grunge revolution of the 90s produced several acts featuring women and by the this time any pervading sexist angle was probably vanishing but the overall female uptake remained low. Things may finally be changing within the modern metal genre. An increasing number of bands are led by a woman and the term "female-fronted" itself is being called into question.

The first British all-female rock band to achieve sustained chart success was Girlschool from London. They recorded their first single in 1978 and secured the support slot on a Motorhead UK tour. Thus began a long association between the bands. Their joint 1981 single - Please Don't Touch, a reworking of an old Johnny Kidd & the Pirates number - reached the heady heights of #5 in the national charts, shifting quarter of a million copies. Seems unbelievable nowadays! I actually owned that record as an 11-year-old and got to know it backwards, thereby sparking a lifelong interest in the band. The first two albums - Demolition and Hit & Run are vital listening for anyone into 80s heavy rock/metal. Produced by the great Vic Maile, who also oversaw Motorhead's commercial peak with Ace of Spades and No Sleep 'til Hammersmith. Hit & Run climbed to #5 in the album charts. The third long-player Screaming Blue Murder just scraped the Top-30 but was solid enough in my opinion. It was the next album - Play Dirty - that saw the wheels come off big style. The production team of Slade mainstays Noddy Holder and Jim Lea looked good on paper. Behind the goofy image, Slade were one of the great 70s rock bands and the Black Country Boys had a fantastic renaissance in the early 80s, taking the hard rock festivals at Donington and Reading by storm. The resulting mix on Play Dirty however was awash with keyboards, big choruses, drum effects and synth sounds. A radical departure from previous efforts. Opening number Going Under and the title track were excellent songs undone by a misguided change in direction. Pressure from the record company or the girls themselves aiming for a slice of the slicker American market? Who knows?

A lengthy spell touring America alongside Iron Maiden and The Scorpions didn't break the band stateside and the upshot was lead guitarist Kelly Johnson quit. A superb player, Johnson's departure was a massive blow and the girls were forced to regroup. Another record company tried to launch the band in the USA but again the venture failed, despite a high-profile stint opening for the reformed Deep Purple across the continent with new guitarist Cris Bonnacci proving more than equal to the task. The girls soldiered on into the 90s and Johnson eventually returned to the fold. She left the band for the final time at the turn of the century and tragically died of spinal cancer in 2007. All these years later, the band are still active and when I saw two Scottish dates announced recently, I decided I had to go along. I opted for the Friday show in Edinburgh and drove to Ferrytoll Park & Ride, taking a bus from there into the city. The venue was Bannerman's - styled on its own website as rock and whisky bar. I had been here a couple of years before to see former Gillan guitarist Bernie Tormé in action. He had played on the first rock album I ever owned - Glory Road - and was enjoying a return to the stage in his mid-60s. Sadly Bernie passed away last year. One thing I did remember about Bannerman's was it sold real ale therefore I headed over fairly early to sample a couple of pre-gig pints.

I was pleased to see Heather Ale from Williams Brothers (Alloa) on one of the cask pumps. I sat in the lounge where a good selection of music was playing through the speakers. I really should drop in again for a beer when I'm passing. The location is central and the prices are fair enough. Bannerman's put on several shows a week and the bar and lounge are open all day. Just the sort of place worth supporting. I could hear support band Evyltyde getting started in the concert room and decided to head through after finishing my pint. I didn't know anything about them but there was a fair crowd already inside. It's often the case that club-sized gigs feature a local warm-up act but judging from Evyltyde accents they were southerners like Girlschool. It was a heavy set but one with melodic vocals from Hannah Delany (I almost said female-fronted lol). Not the sort of band I would go to see in their own right nowadays but enjoyable enough to whet the appetite for the main attraction. As Evyltyde left the stage I noticed Hannah going across to staff the merchandise stall while the other musicians prepared the stage for Girlschool. Ah, working their passage I realised. It was time for a visit to the (incredibly cramped) toilets before picking my spot for the rest of the evening.

Bannerman's hosts the gigs in a stone-lined barrel vault which probably gives the sound engineers a bit of a headache. The tunnel was filling up but I spotted a bit of room just past the halfway point and jostled my way forward. The usual pre-gig excitement began to mount, especially as I would be seeing Girlschool for the first time. It dawned on me that the only way the band could possibly reach the stage would be to walk through the crowd as there were solid walls at the back and sides of the venue. Sure enough, the command came over the PA to step aside and form a channel for the ladies. A few minutes later, figures carrying guitars could be glimpsed scurrying to the front and the show was up and running. Opening with Demolition Boys - the first track on the debut album - the girls kicked loud and hard and I was straight into it. The current line-up is Kim McAuliffe (guitar/vocals) and Denise Dufort (drums), both of whom have been ever present. On bass is Tracy Lamb who initially joined in 1987 and is now in her third spell with Girlschool. She formerly played with Rock Goddess, the only other all-female UK hard rock band to achieve mainstream success back in Girlschool's heyday. Funnily enough, Vic Maile produced them too. Other Girlschool bassists were Enid Williams, who co-founded the band and had two separate stints, and Gil Weston, who filled the role for a few years in the mid-80s. The fourth current member is Jackie Chambers. She replaced Kelly Johnson in 2000 and - two decades down the line - is still the "new girl" in the band. Wisely, the ladies stuck to a set of trusty classics peppered with occasional newer songs. The sound mix was rather muddled but acoustics go out the window (if there was one) in this type of setting and - besides - the electrifying atmosphere ruled on the night.

I thoroughly enjoyed the performance and the advancing years haven't blunted the group's energy, even if the on-stage banter these days is more cor-blimey-guv than sassy rock-chick patter. Kim now handles all the vocals (although I think Tracy sang one number) whereas the original band shared these duties. There was a mildly comical moment at the end of the main set when the band were unable to depart into the wings in the usual manner to await an encore. They just had to launch straight into an extra couple of numbers. It was a well-attended show. There must have been around 150 people there at £20 a ticket. Enough to make the whole thing viable I guess. The 80s bands are in the situation where many fans from back in the day are now free of child-rearing duties and looking to rock out again and revisit their youth. Being at the peak of your earning powers helps as well. Jackie Chambers was busy signing autographs and posing for endless selfies with fans - another part of modern day interaction with the paying customers. I wonder if a different band member is assigned this duty each night? There was an announcement to say the rest of the band would reappear in a little while to chat with the punters. That's one thing I've never done, hang around after a gig to get a signature or exchange a few words. I've always been 100% fulfilled by the music.

Queensferry rambles

My Christmas holidays had begun and I had a few days spare time until the big day itself. Nicole has recently started a new job in Rosyth and required use of the car until she broke off on Christmas Eve. I decided to plan a couple of walks around her schedule, dropping her off in the morning and returning at the end of the shift. I researched walking routes in both North and South Queensferry as they were both close at hand. I crossed the Forth on a Monday morning and parked at Dalmeny station. There was a lot of free space as no doubt many city commuters had already knocked off for the year.

I had of course been to South Queensferry many times. The views from the promenade of the iconic Forth Bridge are stunning and the town has a nice selection of shops, pubs and cafes. It is a popular destination for day trippers and there is a noticeable presence from overseas. I headed down the old railway path towards the town centre. This was a freight line serving Port Edgar - a military base between the current road bridges. Another trail heads in the opposite direction to Kirkliston and I had done the entire route last summer. On that particular occasion I had also hoped to visit the Queensferry Museum but found it closed. Hopefully I would rectify that today. The walkable section of tracked tapered out in a Co-Op car-park where the post office is also located. I had a package to ship off to Canada to one of Nicole's online friends. I also needed to buy a couple of Christmas gifts and this was part of the reason I had chosen to visit South Queensferry. There are two or three nice boutiques here and I would surely pick up something suitable. If not, I could always high-tail it up the motorway to Perth or along to Linlithgow. Leaving it until tomorrow (Christmas Eve) would be cutting things a bit fine. I checked out a pleasant gift shop and bought a coffee mug with a quirky bird design. Off to a good start! I wandered along the shore to Port Edgar - now a marina for pleasure craft.

I enjoyed the view across to Fife with the road crossings either side of me. It started to drizzle so I marched back to the High Street and ducked into the museum. The building also houses council offices and a sign directed me to the exhibits upstairs. I had just started climbing when a voice called out "sorry, the museum is closed until January" - drat! Looks like I'll have to test the third time lucky theory. The Ferry Tap pub was just across the road and in the process of opening its doors. I ordered a pint of Stewart's beer - a Lothian brewery that has done extremely well in the pub trade across central Scotland. I remember buying their mini-casks at farmers' markets many years ago. The Stewart tap room is close to IKEA and I recommend stopping by. I strolled down to the seafront and fortunately the weather had brightened up. I noticed a jeweller was having a closing down sale and I snapped up a pair of silver earrings. That virtually completed my Xmas shopping list bar a couple of minor items and I could breathe easily again. I also bought a Forth Bridge calendar for my dad in the Three Bridges Cafe. They have a little souvenir shop at the entrance. I then faced a lengthy slog up a staircase to haul me up to bridge level and onwards to Dalmeny Station. With time on my hands, I had lunch in Burger King and took full advantage of their bottomless drinks machine. I drove along for a look at Hopetoun House, a grand mansion at the centre of a sprawling estate. They are opening up their grounds for a snowdrop walk in the middle of February and I'm hoping to attend.

The next day was Christmas Eve and Nicole was due to finish at lunch time. Today's itinerary was a visit to the National Trust owned House of the Binns in West Lothian and a quick wander around North Queensferry on the Fife side of the Forth. The pictured mansion is the residence of the Dalyell Family who sold the property and surrounding estate to the National Trust in 1944 but retained the right to inhabit the manor house. Tours of the residence can be booked during the warmer months and the estate grounds are free to visit all year round. My plan was to scoot up the small hill that looks down upon Blackness Castle and across the Firth of Forth. I delivered Nicole to her workplace just before nine and crossed the river before heading in the direction of Bo'ness. The estate entrance was signposted from the A904 and I drove up to the car park beside the house. An information point had a picture of the Dalyells handing over the keys to representatives of the National trust. In the foreground was a small boy named Thomas. He later became known as Tam and a was prominent Labour politician for decades. He is remembered for posing the so-called West Lothian Question on whether non-English MPs should be able to vote upon English-only matters after political devolution. Incidentally, Tam was instantly recognisable from the childhood photograph.

A signed path led towards the Binns Hill and I immediately encountered several peafowl. Apparently there are over 20 on the estate. They didn't seem too perturbed by my presence and would simply scuttle a few yards if I entered their personal space. I've never actually seen a peacock fly, apart from a chick fluttering a few feet on to a branch inside an aviary. I passed through a pleasant area of woodland and made the easy climb to the summit. Binns Tower, Dalyell’s Folly and The Wager are all names for the same turret located here. It’s said to be visited by a long dead Pictish warrior, the Ghost of Bloody Tam Dalyell and overlooks a pond allegedly occupied by a malevolent water spirit known as Green Jeanie (did it inspire David Bowie?). The folly is positioned at the highest point of the estate and designed to both overlook and be seen by the neighbouring landowners – the Hopes – a family Sir James Dalyell was quite content to upset. The building was commissioned in 1825 and legend insists it was the result of a bet to see which gentleman in the area could spend £100 in the most pointless but wittiest way. Sir James collected the cash when he proposed building a watchtower that would spy upon his neighbour’s estate. Standing 36 feet tall, the structure has three stories and the architectural style matches the main house. It features faux battlements and a spiral staircase winding its way to the viewing platform at the top. Unfortunately it was locked up when I arrived.

Binns Hill is only 329 feet above sea level but it is the highest point on the landscape for miles around. There is indeed a lovely panoramic view of the River Forth, looking down upon Blackness Castle and across the water to Fife. Binns Tower actually shares the summit with an Ordnance Survey trig point but you can see in the photo that the tower just shades it in terms of altitude. There is some nice walking to enjoy along the banks of the Forth between Bo'ness and South Queensferry and I have visited Blackness Castle on a couple of occasions. It was used as a filming location for the highly-successful Outlander TV series which is broadcast around the world. It's certainly not unusual to see buses disgorging foreign tourists at these Outlander spots and the economic spin-off must be substantial. Below the Binns Estate, a sliver of Falkirk Council territory snakes along the coast to wrap around Blackness village. I can't imagine the locals identifying culturally as Falkirk Bairns as everything about this area screams Lothians - which traditionally extend as far west as Bo'ness. You often find this tinkering with historic boundaries involves transferring whole civil parishes to another local government organisation. I'm not sure if this makes everything simpler from a legal point of view or whether it's just cheaper and more convenient than drawing actual new boundaries.

I lingered on top for a while before making my way back to the car park. There is a suggested circular walk around the wider grounds but I had to head back over the bridge as I was on a fairly tight timescale. I passed a minor road leading to Hopetoun House, the centrepiece of the neighbouring estate. I had planned to attend their annual snowdrop walk in February but am typing the day after it was cancelled due to adverse weather. Back to Christmas Eve - I drove to North Queensferry to complete a heritage walk I had left half done a few months ago. I parked more or less under the mighty Forth Bridge and wandered up the steep road towards the station, passing an old well on the way. I wanted to find a path down to the beach at Port Laing. I had been up this end of town before when working my way to the summit of Ferry Hills. Not a huge peak but one offering nice views of the surrounding water and back into West Fife. It's also a favourite hunting ground for twitchers (not that I would know about that!) and gives a bird's-eye view of the deep quarrying operations hidden from the normal road and rail corridors. From the entrance to the hill path, I had noticed a tarmac track branching downwards and I wondered if this would offer access to the sands. Satellite mapping suggested it might.

I descended to find my way blocked by a fence guarding private property. I decided to try the rotting style slightly further up which allowed me to cross a patch of grass and head into the trees. This had obviously been a right of way to the beach in the past but appeared to have fallen out of use. The path was in poor condition and the wooden step risers in a state of decay. Nevertheless I gingerly made my way down and couldn't help noticing the purpose-built walkway in the garden of the adjacent property. Nice if you can afford it. A pleasant stroll across the beach brought me to a path junction. A route led upwards to a housing scheme and I decided to use this access point in my walk description for the website. Far safer for anyone following my instructions. I continued on my merry way along the official Fife Coastal Path which originally began in North Queensferry before being extended back to the Kincardine Bridge. This area is designated as a nature reserve and I soon faced an uphill section at Carlingnose Point. A short detour took me to a viewpoint looking eastwards along the Firth of Forth. I then gradually descended to the town and decided to examine the maritime heritage. A ferry service operated across the water for centuries before being threatened by the arrival of the boat train between Granton and Burntisland, then the construction of the Forth Bridge. Despite the revolutionary rail links, the ferrymen continued to ply their trade.

The crossing was originally established by Queen Margaret in the 11th century - hence the names of the towns on either side. The service reinvented itself by carrying motor vehicles and their occupants as the 20th century progressed. My parents both vividly remember the ferry across the Forth and were in their late teens / early twenties when the link was finally discontinued after 800 years of operation. The culprit was the Forth Road Bridge which was - somewhat ironically - opened by the Queen in 1964. Suddenly Fife was properly connected to the Lothians although you had to pay a toll for the next 40-odd years. Charges were initially collected at both ends but this arrangement was altered so you only paid when heading north (no doubt to speed up morning traffic flow into the city). With the Kincardine Bridge offering free access further upstream, no doubt a few enterprising souls who lived roughly equidistant from both crossings could beat the system. I wandered down to the town pier, the main departure point until the railway slip was established in 1877. This is still the pre-bridge era when trains pulled up on the shore. This passenger line obviously became redundant with the opening of the Forth Bridge and North Queensferry station.

All sailings were transferred to the old railway pier in 1920, no doubt because the ferries were now carrying vehicles and therefore drawing a deeper draught. The town pier is now a pleasant area to wander around and is close to the pubs and shops. It struck me that I'd never actually been for a meal or a drink in North Queensferry, although I'd explored the place on foot a few times. Yet I've dined and supped a few pints immediately across the water on many occasions. South Queensferry (often simply Queensferry to Lothians folk) snaffles the lion's share of the tourist trade, despite the Fife side being just over a mile distant; an extra 5 minutes in the car or the next stop on the train when travelling from the Edinburgh direction. Pure convenience or Fife having something of an image problem? My final port of call was the little lighthouse dating from 1817. Adjacent to the town pier, the Stevenson structure kept passengers, livestock, cargo and mail moving safely across the Forth. It was fully restored and reopened as a public attraction in 2010. Two dozen stairs lead to the lamp room and despite the cramped interior, a wealth of exhibits and information is displayed inside. I must confess I had no knowledge of the lighthouse prior to spotting it from across the bay today. Truly a hidden gem.