Snowdrops and Burns

It looked as if I would be confined to barracks for a wet February weekend but the weather brightened up around lunchtime on Saturday. The first snowdrop walk of the year was due to take place in Valleyfield Woods and I'd been meaning to attend since undertaking my own exploration of the old estate in 2019. I had of course seen the flowers before but it would be nice to experience a guided tour of Robert Preston's old stomping ground and hear someone else's take on the history of the place. The walks are advertised as including a heritage aspect and are organised by the West Fife Woodlands charity.

I pulled up at Shiresmill car park where two other people were waiting. Our guide Frank led us into the woodland and pointed out the old deer park (now used as pasture) and the beech ha-ha. This is a type of sunken fence commonly used in landscaped gardens in the 18th century. A dry ditch was dug and the inner side faced with a stone wall. Meanwhile, the outer side was designed to slope steeply upwards before levelling out again. The point of the ha-ha was to give the viewers the illusion of an unbroken, continuous rolling lawn, whilst providing boundaries for grazing livestock. I had known it had something to do with marking perimeters and it was interesting to see an actual example. I had gained knowledge right at the start of the walk! A trio of visitors wasn't too bad considering the weather had been awful all week and it's still early days for the snowdrops. I know a lot about the history of Valleyfield Estate from my own research and decided it would be poor form to interject when Frank was explaining these matters. The other couple were in the dark other than what they had gleaned from the information hoarding at the entrance. We headed through the intact entrance arch into the walled flower garden. The top level is easily accessible but the slope down to the ornamental canal is heavily overgrown. Frank explained how the heated brickwork enabled all manner of unusual plants to be grown in lean-to enclosures. It was good to poke around the rear of the back wall, which I hadn't done before. Apparently a TV crew visited the garden to film part of an episode of the long-running celebrity genealogy series Who Do You Think You Are? Popular BBC newsreader Sophie Raworth seemingly had an ancestor involved in pineapple growing and there was a connection to Valleyfield. As I type, I've just reserved a copy of the DVD with my rental club Cinema Paradiso.

Even in the streaming age, I continue to rent DVDs as the choice is far greater than what's available on platforms such as Netflix. I enjoy watching independent movies, German cinema and music documentaries as well as more mainstream fare. Cinemaparadiso offer an excellent service and almost everything released in the UK is obtainable. One day the bottom will drop out of the DVD rental market but that may take a good few years. We haven't even reached the point where they've stopped making them. Frank pointed out the crumbling flight of steps leading to nowhere on the overgrown terrace and how the TV presenter had bounced up and down on them with scant regard to health and safety. I must confess I had done the same thing. The tour progressed down to the lower levels of the old estate between the ornamental canal and Bluther Burn. Frank identified the ice house built into the slope on the opposite bank. We paid a visit to the community orchard, formerly the kitchen garden and viewed the remains of the gardener's cottage. There was an impressive amount of snowdrops in various locations and my pictures proved very popular on Instagram, despite the less than perfect lighting conditions. Apparently bluebells appear in the far corner of the woods later in the year. I must pop along to see them in full bloom.

We didn't climb up to the site of the mansion. Not that there's much to see unless you delve into the thicket looking for scraps of old foundation. Frank did point out a couple of pillar sections now resting in the river. The theory is local kids rolled them down following demolition of the house. Frank's statement about them being the only remains of the grand residence wasn't quite true. There is evidence of a boundary wall and an old well as well as several stones scattered around (I have one in my garden). But that type of exploration was beyond the scope of a gentle stroll and I wasn't about to quibble. As we approached the extremities of the grounds I enquired whether we were now standing on the boundary. One of the other walkers made a good point by saying people in days gone by would have been far more aware of local borders as almost everyone spent their lives in the same general area, whereas today there is a tendency to move around. That's definitely a factor behind the current confusion regarding traditional county lines. In summary, it was a very informative afternoon and Frank did a grand job of mixing historical tales with details of recent woodland projects. Afterwards we headed into the adjacent riding centre for complimentary tea and coffee. A couple of folders had been laid out, containing images of the estate dating from the 19th century. I had seen most of them before online but it was obviously an excellent source of reference for visitors. Frustratingly, I have never found a picture of Valleyfield House in its final phase as the headquarters of the Fife Coal Company. Nor have I seen any photos of the property in a state of disrepair prior to demolition. Maybe one day I'll get lucky.

I had pencilled a play into my diary for the same evening. A comedy about Robert Burns coming back as a ghost. As a long time fan of our national bard, the advert for the show caught my eye. I've enjoyed Rabbie's work ever since learning Tam o' Shanter in primary school (my teacher Charlie Kennedy was a major Burns freak). I even won 3rd prize in a recital competition at Lochgelly Centre. I had recently attended a night of Burns song with my mum and there had been a plethora of programmes about the man on Scottish TV this year. Therefore I felt rather "Burnsed out" and had mentally shelved plans to see the play. My plans changed when Nicole announced she had booked a place at a drumming workshop, leaving me at a loose end for the evening. I decided to head along to the Carnegie Hall and buy a ticket on the door. I took the bus as I fancied nipping into Wetherspoons for a pint beforehand. I walked into the pub around 6.20pm, expecting to catch the lull between the High Street shops closing down and the time for people going out on the town. I hadn't reckoned on the rugby and the place was bustling with eager fans watching the match on the big screen. Scotland were slightly behind with 10 minutes left but they couldn't close the gap. I'm not too bothered about the game and have only a rudimentary grasp of the rules. However I do enjoy Scottish success in any sphere. It didn't work out tonight but a narrow defeat away to a strong Irish side was no disgrace. I necked a pint of IPA from Broughton - based in the Borders and one of Scotland's first modern independent breweries.

On to the theatre. I was informed at the box office that the play had been switched to the studio auditorium. This room has fixed seating for 50 but a couple of rows of extra chairs had been set out at the front. As I arrived, a large party was making its way along from the bar. Perhaps a Burns club or theatre meetup group. The smaller venue was more or less filled to capacity which made for an intimate atmosphere. The two-person performance was based around the scenario of a woman seeking post-breakup solace on Burns Night in an Ayrshire cottage once inhabited by the man himself. The bard's ghost returns for a visit and the banter flows. Burns is clearly bemused by modern dating methods but the script suggests the fundamentals of male/female interaction haven't really altered over time. Burns broke the fourth wall at times and there were laughs aplenty. Perhaps they did over-egg the pudding regarding the Lothario nature of the poet but it was a great night's entertainment for 15 quid. I hope the production managed to break even on the night. It is touring the whole country. I even managed to beat Nicole home.

Glendevon Castle

I had been googling around, looking for an abandoned site to explore that I could reach within half an hour or so from home. I happened to notice references to Glendevon Castle which had apparently been standing empty for 20 years following it's final incarnation as a pub and restaurant. The location seemed pretty accessible, just of the A823. The road to Crieff is one of my favourite drives in Scotland and probably one of the first major solo trips I made as a newly-qualified driver. Well, not so new. I actually passed my test as a teenager in 1990 but didn't buy a car for another 15 years. I was happy enough getting around on buses and trains. I find myself using public transport regularly these days as Nicole and I share a car and she takes it to work. I don't mind commuting on the bus and it has the advantage of permitting me to stop for cheeky pint on the way home.

Off I set on a fairly bright January morning. I found a convenient lay-by a short distance from the access road and the excitement began to mount as I strode uphill. I deviated from the path to climb a grassy slope, reckoning it might give me an overview of the castle. That wasn't quite the case but I pushed on a little further and soon saw the building. I was now looping round to the rear and it quickly became obvious the place was abandoned. A stack of breeze blocks looked as if they had been delivered recently by a builders merchant, so perhaps some basic work had been undertaken with remedial repairs or security in mind. There was some assorted debris lying around but the main building appeared to be in good condition. Entrances were bricked or heavily boarded up. A lower-level extension adjoined the original castle and I presume this was part of the restaurant. I had also seen reference to the castle functioning as a hotel at some point. There didn't appear to be any obvious point of entry and I was content to work my way around the building, taking pictures. Apparently it's an example of a tower house with substantial modifications. The bar was latterly known as The Dungeon and the cellars utilised as a drinking area.

The sun was shining on the front of the castle which brightened up my photographs from this angle. There was nobody else around and I explored at my leisure. I could be seen from a farm on the other side of the road but I was only a nerdy bloke with a camera. Who would ever challenge that? Funnily enough, when I posted my pics on the Urbex Scotland site someone asked if I knew I was being watched from hidden lenses in the bird boxes? I assumed this was a joke and replied in a frivolous manner. The site owner came on to the thread and said he'd been accosted by a guy in a Range Rover while looking around and had left the site. Coincidence? Or is there truth in the camera theory? Why would a building abandoned for over two decades be subject to surveillance? Especially since it hasn't been sold and the previous custodians allegedly upped and left? I can only surmise a friendly neighbour is keeping an eye on the castle for whoever happens to be responsible for its continuing care. Perhaps a sensor triggers an alert if someone gets too close. Anyway, I never saw hide nor hair of a "guard" and quietly went about my business before returning the the car. To be honest, I'm sceptical about the whole hidden camera story. Not that I was breaking any rules to begin with. I made my way to the patch of ground in front of the side extension. There were a couple of old benches still in place and a mock wishing well. I assumed this area was previously a beer garden or used for alfresco dining. I uploaded the above picture to Instagram when I returned home and it did well, garnering over 200 likes. Photos of dilapidated but once-grand buildings tend to be popular, especially when festooned with urbex-themed hashtags.

Satisfied with my expedition, I headed back down the road, sticking to my two-hour smash & grab raid timetable. I soon passed the Tormaukin Inn - one of the few real-ale pubs within a half-hour radius of me that I'd never visited. There is a 4-mile footpath from here to Dollar and I'll need to bump this one up the list a bit. I suspect these country watering holes rely mainly on food sales nowadays to keep them afloat. Drink driving is now (rightfully) taboo and - besides - there's a good profit margin in soft drinks. A few people on Facebook said they remembered Glendevon Castle back in the day and that it was an atmospheric place. The A823 crosses a neck of Clackmannanshire - or at least the modern council area of that name. The Wee County traditionally had its eastern boundary at Dollar and then you entered Perthshire. When the local government system was overhauled in 1975, nine regions were formed with a tier of district councils below. Some historic counties were rebadged as districts but in several cases there was tinkering around the edges. The southern tip of Perthshire was placed in the administrative hands of Clackmannan District Council. This organisation, in turn, became the Clacks council area of today. Therefore the village of Muckhart lies in historic Perthshire but is governed from Alloa (Clackmannan no longer being the county town of Clackmannanshire). The area has an FK (Falkirk) postcode, a town that was never in either of the two aforementioned counties or their modern political incarnations. Still with me? I do jest about the postcode as this system was never intended to demarcate county lines and was purely introduced to speed up the sorting of mail.

As I passed Rumbling Bridge, it reminded me of the time I sought out the old railway station and found the platform still intact. Trains ran between Kinross and Alloa on a route known as the Devon Valley Line. Like many other rural railways, it bore the brunt of the Beeching Axe in the 1960s. Rumbling Bridge itself crosses a steep narrow gorge through which the River Devon roars. It is well worth nipping down to view the churning waters. There is also the curious spectacle of a double stone bridge - the new crossing simply built on top of the old. This point marks the beginning of the Shire of Kinross, now represented in local government terms by Perth & Kinross Council. While the term Perthshire is still widely used by the national media, tiny Kinross-Shire is way more obscure but the old county still retains a strong identity locally and fought to have its name highlighted on road signage at entry points. As you've probably realised, I've developed a nerdy streak with regard to traditional boundaries but these subdivisions go back centuries and shouldn't - in my opinion - be forgotten about. I don't actually have a problem with, say, Dundee functioning as a council area and running it's own affairs. It makes sound administrative sense. Even in the days of each historic county having it's own active council, major cities had an elected corporation to oversee matters relating to them. Trying to run Dundee from Forfar would always have been a daft idea. Unfortunately a tendency has developed - perhaps inevitably - whereby people assume that council names on road signs tell the full story. Some folk will erroneously believe Dundee has no connection with Angus. You could take this argument to a ridiculous conclusion and say Aberdeen isn't actually in Aberdeenshire. No doubt a few heads would nod in agreement!

Exploring over the water

I always seem to build up to-do, to-read, to-see, to-visit etc lists. In terms of local walking and exploration, I had a few things sitting in the pipeline and knocked them off last Sunday when Nicole had plans to spend a day painting. I had previously posted pictures of Avondale House (near Polmont) on a Scottish Urbex Facebook page. Someone asked if I'd ever visited the abandoned sewage works a couple of fields away. I duly filed away this project for a future date. Online research confirmed the site was indeed derelict although a new business now occupied part of the area.

I toyed with the idea of going back to Avondale House and working my way across but that might be horrendously muddy and overgrown. Better to try my luck at the main entrance. A minor road led past the complex and fortunately I managed to squeeze into a little lay-by. An access track took me towards the gates and I could see the fencing was breached in places. The compound was completely deserted and I headed down to the settling pools which may well have contained deep water. I kept a sensible distance from the edge. Although I love poking around abandoned locations, I don't take any silly risks as I want to tell the tale and find other interesting sights. There was a heavily vandalised concrete building which looked as if it had been used for industrial purposes as well as containing offices. A couple of doors had been kicked in but led only to single rooms, one of which contained the fuse boxes. I probably could have found a way in to explore further but the place was in poor condition and I'm often content to just view the exterior and take photos. I enjoy the isolated ambience more than clambering over piles of rubble. A new building was situated in the far corner - presumably with access to the road. I'm assuming this was the start-up business I had read about online. There didn't appear to be any signs of life.

Another urbex box ticked, I then set off for Bothkennar Pools on the edge of Grangemouth. These lagoons lie close to the Forth estuary and were formed as a result of mining subsidence and are gradually increasing in size. Nicole and I had previously visited one of the ponds and today I planned to complete the circular walk of just under two miles. The first part was on a single-track tarmac surface and I then cut through a patch of woodland to reach the first pool. A curlew plonked itself down just as I arrived and I managed to snap a fine shot at maximum zoom. Quite happy with that. Not much else was happening here and I pushed on to the second pond. There is a small viewing screen overlooking the water and a man had set up his tripod and camera. Upon enquiring about today's action, he informed me he was a beginner and didn't know much about birds. I'm no expert myself! I glean bits and pieces from Nicole, who does all the serious reading and research. My main bird buzz is the taking of photographs although I do also enjoy the observation aspect. I identified a couple of tufted ducks for the chap and was happy to pass on some of my meagre knowledge. I decided retrace my steps to the car as I knew from the previous walk that the more direct route would be very muddy. I just needed enough trail information to compile a report for the website.

The next destination was Plean which lies roughly halfway between Stirling and Falkirk. A former mining village, Plean is on the southern portion of the A9. One day I must drive this road in its entirety, a marathon trek from Falkirk to Thurso. The crazy thing is I would actually do it just for the personal satisfaction - and why not! It would of course necessitate locating the road's exacting starting point. Plean Country Park was formerly a private estate and I wanted to see the ruined old mansion and whatever else the place had to offer. The car park was fairly busy. A decent weekend after a spate of bad weather always seems to bring out lots of people. I found the house easily enough. Only a crumbling shell remains as the building was torched by vandals in the early 70s, around the time it was vacated. A security fence prevents access and rightly so as the property is in dangerous condition. I had known in advance there would be little chance of getting a closer look but in all honesty there would most likely be nothing to see save fallen masonry among the vegetation. Nevertheless it was interesting to view yet another of those once-grand mansions now barely standing. I found a handy hump of ground to the rear of the house which allowed to me to take a picture of the building staring gloomily through the trees and the thin branches did an excellent job of camouflaging the ugly fence. A few waymarked walks were shown on the estate map and I decided to do part of the woodland trail as it passed by a couple of landmarks that sounded interesting.

The gamekeepers cottage was reduced to little more than the foundations and worth just a cursory glance before moving on. I had been intrigued to read about the existence of WW1 practice trenches within the estate and a side path took me to this location. An information board depicted the trench layout but they were only just discernible as depressions on the ground. Nevertheless, a fascinating discovery and apparently some of the best evidence of this type of earthwork still in existence. I would definitely consider returning to the park in the summer months to see the wild meadow in full bloom and perhaps explore the other trails. As I left I couldn't help noticing a deep cutting next to the road as I drove back to the village centre. I strongly suspected the presence of an old railway line and almost jumped out of the car for a more detailed look. Back home, the OS map confirmed that a mineral line had run from the pits surrounding the estate down to a junction at the long-gone Plean Station. I love looking at the 1950s OS mapping online (the most recent edition freely available, apparently the copyright lasts 50 years). This series was published just before many railways were ripped up around the country and the overlay tool allows you to view the trackbed against a satellite image of today's terrain.

It was was an enjoyable little exploration of east Stirlingshire, covering several bases in one afternoon. I arrived home as the sun was setting and Nicole called me upstairs to have a look out of the window. This pictured scene looks across the fields to the rear of our house. I love the way the farmhouse and trees appear as spooky shadows across the red backdrop. Sunset photos seem to be all the rage on Instagram and this one attracted a flurry of early likes but fell short of the 200 mark (although it may creep over that threshold in time). I'm on a fantastic Insta-run with a whole host of consecutive posts topping the ton and nearly all of them passing 150 likes. A dozen or so above 200 and a couple that have smashed the 300 barrier. All good clean fun and nice to know that people around the world are appreciating your camera work. If someone starts following me, I'll glance at their portfolio, reciprocating if the pictures are broadly similar to mine or otherwise appealing. I tend to avoid those who create endless selfies or insist on their dog taking centre stage in most shots (cats I don't mind so much lol). I also refuse to follow anyone who has a private account (although they can by all means subscribe to me). I mean, it's social media, man! Get it out there!

We had actually been out the previous morning to see the sun rise on the Firth of Forth. Nicole has joined a wild swimming group and they were going for a dip on a cold January morning. I'll maybe join in when spring merges into summer and I can come out of the water for a heat. I see no pleasure in dooking on a day when even the boldest of brass monkeys would fear for his testicles. The meeting point was Silver Sands beach and around 20 swimmers gathered for their period of morning invigoration. Nicole decided not to enter but her two friends bit the bullet. Apparently salt water doesn't drop below 7 degrees, even in winter. Lochs can be colder (and unpredictably deep). Some people were kitted out in wet suits while others went in bareback. If that's your bag, then good luck to you. I was far more interested in capturing a sunrise photo and spent the time pointing my camera at the horizon. In a nice touch, the moon had also been clearly visible in a blue-tinged sky prior to sunrise and I got two lovely photographs for the price of one. Afterwards we headed to the café and bakery at Woodlea Stables, Crossgates. We were joined by Gareth and Shauna for coffee and a snack. Some funny conversation ensued and it was a pleasant way to spend an hour.

Gareth is a fellow rocker and we discussed the brilliance of Neil Peart, the Rush drummer who had sadly passed away. Gareth also loves real ale and was delighted when I pointed out the Limekilns Brew Shed stall - due to open at 10am just yards from where we were sitting. It operates at Woodlea Stables every Saturday and Sunday for a few hours and this was the first occasion I'd managed to catch it in action. I purchased a couple of bottles of an ale known simply as Ordinary. A homage to the once-popular style referred to as 60-shilling, light, mild or indeed ordinary. This was a weaker ale - typically just over 3% - that was traditionally supped by workers after a long shift. A few pints could be enjoyed without the legs becoming too wobbly. It was in the process of falling out of favour when I started going to pubs in the late 80s. The dreaded epithet "old man's pint" sealing its fate. You can still find a pint of ordinary in keg form here and there. As far as real ale goes, there is such a plethora of styles nowadays that the old concepts of bitter and mild, light and heavy, 60, 70 & 80 are no longer so rigidly defined. I enjoyed my bottles later that evening and mused upon the fact that I was edging towards senior drinker territory myself.

After parting ways with Shauna & Gareth, we headed along the coast to Leven. Once part of a busy shipping area, the town has somewhat fallen upon hard times but retains a decent selection of shops on the High Street (my sister owns one of them) and the government recently green-lit the proposal to reopen the railway towards Edinburgh. Trains used to run all the way round the coast of Fife but the Beeching Axe of the 1960s cleaved out the picturesque East Neuk section. In this day of re-energised railways, surely a line passing through the beautiful fishing villages would do great business - at least in the summer (which was probably part of the problem in the first place). Then again, with more people commuting nowadays and this part of the Kingdom bereft of a fast road network, a coastal route would - in my opinion - be viable. Beeching did leave stumps serving the population centres of Leven and St Andrews but they too were swept away a few years later (although goods traffic continued to Leven until 2001). It is the former of those that is slated to re-open while StArLink campaigns indefatigably for the revival of the few miles of track that connected the Home of Golf to the East Coast Main line at Leuchers. When you consider St Andrews is also an ancient university town and an international tourist draw, it's screaming out for a return of the railway. Perhaps the politicians will one day bow to climate change pressure.

We came to Leven for the birds and they happily obliged. From the above picture you can see the intricate details of the markings on a starling and the sheen on the breast. A great example of a common bird, erm, flying under the radar and not having its beauty truly recognised. Except they're not really that common these days. Starling numbers have drastically declined over the last couple of decades and even the experts aren't sure why. Down on the beach I saw a godwit splashing about in the sea. It seemed to be enjoying itself and I was able to get reasonably close for a photo. I love watching the sanderlings scuttle around on the shoreline but they are difficult to capture on camera as they never seem to stand still for more than a few seconds. By the time you've zoomed in and focussed....they're off! Turnstone and plover are commonly sighted at Leven and there were plenty of the latter sitting on the sand. Again, I was able to sneak forward without disturbing them and take some nice group shots. My day's work went down well on Instagram with each bird pic topping 200 likes. Sometimes it can be a slow climb though, like a classic rock band's back catalogue trickling through sales year upon year. Hopefully the return of the railway to Leven will bring in visitors from across the water. An East Neuk shuttle bus would also be a handy tie-in.

Re-opened railways tend to vastly exceed the initial forecasts of usage. The Borders line is a good example. In this case the authorities shot themselves in the foot by building a single-track route with key bridges over major roads not sufficiently wide to accommodate a second set of tracks, thereby severely restricting the number of potential train paths. It's crazy that we actually have several mothballed freight lines around the country already running to sizeable towns where the passenger service was lost decades ago. I know it isn't necessarily cheap to bring them back to life but we have to start somewhere and the road network is becoming increasingly congested. I would love to go on a train trip to Leven one day. The only thing missing is a decent alehouse but you've got an award winning pub a couple of miles along the coast in Lower Largo - ironically named the Railway Tavern.