Den of Alyth

Autumn woodland walking is a colourful experience and with a promising Sunday weather forecast, we decided an outing in a deciduous forest would be a good idea. Perhaps somewhere a little further afield than our usual haunts. I set about finding a suitable destination and the search query "autumn walks in Perthshire" delivered an interesting result. The Den of Alyth was described on the council's website like this - "the canopy of oak, ash, horse chestnut, birch, beech and sycamore trees throughout the den turn every shade of red, orange and gold and carpet the ground in all of autumn’s colours"

Alyth is a small Perthshire town close to the boundary with Angus. I'd never been there before but had enjoyed a couple of days out in the same general area: the Pictish stones museum in Meigle and the extensive railway path network in Newtyle. As I planned the driving route, I noticed it seemed almost equidistant to take either the A93 or A94 from Perth. Indeed the AA Route Planner confirmed a difference of just one mile! It would be fun to go up one way and come back by the other. I opted for the A94 as the road split and we passed through Scone (although the famous palace is accessed from the A93). Then came the entrance to Perth Airport but there was no sign of any aviation activity. Apparently there are no scheduled commercial flights and the airport is mainly used for training purposes and private landings. We drove through berry picking country and there were polytunnels everywhere. Who knows how the industry will fare in a post-Brexit Britain as it depends heavily on a migrant workforce. Tattie fields also abounded. I used to earn £13 a day picking spuds prior to starting university. All done by machines nowadays.

Just before Coupar Angus, we saw signs for the Three Witches Tearoom and Nicole expressed a desire to stop here on the return journey. Bang goes my trip along the A93 I thought. Actually I must take a drive north on that road sometime as it goes up through Glenshee and on to Braemar. It must be one of the great scenic Scottish drives but for reasons I can't explain, I've never done it! After an hour and a quarter since setting out, we arrived in Alyth. It was simple enough to locate the den just outside the town and there was ample space in the car park. Our planned route was circular, around a mile and a half long. Basically up one side of the burn and down the other. As soon as we descended to the water, we spotted a dipper going about its business against the fast-flowing current. It was to be the only bird of note we encountered but the autumnal colours were ablaze and the woodland was a full of mature native trees. Broad leaves of various hues formed a thick carpet on the ground. Unfortunately we reached a barrier with a sign informing us the path was closed due to recent bad weather. An alternative route could be followed by crossing a bridge and sticking to the opposite bank.

It was indeed a fine location for a walk. A trifle far to come for a couple of miles but I always enjoy visiting a new part of the country. If I'm ever back up this way in the summer months, I'll make a point of popping into the Alyth Folk Museum. It was time to hit the tearoom and I instantly clocked Hungarian egg soup on the specials board. It was warming and very similar to Brühe mit Ei - a dish my father-in-law had rustled up after a few drinks on one of my first trips to Brandenburg, Germany. I do enjoy a cup of herbal tea but I'm not a connoisseur. What surprises me about fancy tearooms is they don't always have a large range available. The Three Witches had a choice of green, peppermint, breakfast and Earl Grey teas and I opted for the former. There was also a good assortment of local produce and crafts for sale. Back on the road, I noticed the remnants of the main railway line that once passed through this area en route to Aberdeen. Unusually, a substantial steel bridge crossed the A94. These types of structure tended to be swiftly removed for the scrap value (or from a more cynical standpoint, to ensure there was no easy way for the railway to reopen). A nice wee day out in an autumnal setting.

Portobello Loop

Another day off work coinciding with the evening Edinburgh German meet-up. I planned a city wander for the afternoon. My route would take me down Leith Walk, along to Portobello beach and back to the city centre via the Innocent Railway cycle path. I had already done this walk a few years ago but wanted to repeat it - with a couple of minor adjustments - and take some pictures this time. With the clocks going back at the end of the month, it would be my last chance for a while to complete a pre-meetup wander in daylight hours.

I took the bus and alighted halfway along Princes Street. I went up and over Calton Hill, the 340-foot summit offering amazing views of the surrounding city as I ate my packed lunch. I then proceeded all the way to the foot of Leith Walk and strolled into the large Wetherspoons pub. I supped a couple of pints of traditional bitter from a brewery known as Fire Island. I wasn't familiar with the ale but it went down a treat as I flicked through my railway magazine. Wetherspoons outlets divide opinion but they provide a nice selection of ale and I do enjoy sitting quietly and anonymously with something to read. I couldn't dally too long as - from this point - I had ten miles in front of me and I wanted to be back in the city before darkness fell. I don't just blast through these expeditions, I like to take photographs and look at unusual features I happen to encounter. All of this eats away at the time but I prefer to build in a degree of flexibility. On the other hand, I don't want to be hurrying up near the end because I've dawdled excessively along the way. Naturally, this has occurred on more than one occasion. I headed across Leith Links to pick up the Restalrigs Railway path which comes curving in from Easter Road. I hopped off as the route bent away from the coast as my task was to follow the shoreline.

A mothballed railway runs between the road and the sea. I took the path on the far side of the line as an alternative to tramping along the pavement. At some point the line was fenced only with a token metal barrier and it would have been a simple task to get on to the tracks. The presence of functional signals deterred me from doing this as the line - while clearly not live - is almost certainly under the care of Network Rail and thus technically open. The transport police can - and do - fine trespassers on lines that haven't seen a train in a while. Not really worth taking the risk in a big city where your movements don't go unnoticed. The path brought me to a bulge of reclaimed land with a high sea wall. I believe the sewage works are inside the compound and I was able to walk safely along a wide concrete ledge around the bend for views across to Fife and the island of Inchkeith. After this little diversion, I joined the lengthy Portobello Promenade. The water was a tad restless and the occasional salty spray washed over the barriers. The concrete platform gave way to a generous stretch of beach and quite a few locals were out and about on the sands. The seaside area is obviously popular with Edinburgh folk although the days of the open-air swimming pool are long gone.

The last time I did this walk I headed up through the town to Brunstane Railway Station. From there I joined the cycle path back to the city centre. I added an extra mile and a half this time around by staying on the coast until reaching reaching the Brunstane Burn (just before Musselburgh) and following a river walkway to the station. I crossed the tracks and picked up the tarmac footpath. Brunstane is a busy commuter halt and now the first stop on the Borders Railway. One has to wonder why the transport planners don't go the whole hog and reopen the Edinburgh suburban route which is currently a working diversionary line. Lack of car parking space? Um, isn't the reason why Edinburgh people use buses and trains in such vast numbers because they either don't have a car or don't wish to use it to get to work? The cycleway passes the Bingham housing estate - the sort of place where it's not unusual to see young lads riding around on motorbikes without helmets. This time I witnessed a grown man whizzing up and down the public green space on a quad bike - probably at 30 to 40 mph - with a toddler perched on his lap. Neither of them wearing any form of protection. Seemed a bit foolhardy to me. When the path reaches Duddingston Road West, it follows the alignment of the Innocent Railway. Almost immediately you cross a short but original cast-iron bridge dating from 1831.

The line was originally horse drawn and built to carry coal into the city from the pits in the Dalkeith area. The system expanded over the decades into an urban freight network. Closure came in 1968. The final days were captured on film and can be seen on YouTube. The highlight of the walk back to Edinburgh is the 560-yard St Leonard's Tunnel. It runs on a noticeable gradient and the bikes fairly come rattling towards you. I emerged in the middle of a student residential complex at the other end and made my way to South Clerk Street which is part of the main drag back to Princes Street. I was weary by this stage and darkness was beginning to fall. Just as well a legendary alehouse was situated just over the road. Incredibly I was making my first visit to the Cask & Barrel (Southside). I think it's about the only reasonably central traditional real-ale pub I hadn't been in until this point. I settled down with a lovely pint of 80 shilling and rested my legs. The wooden interior was adorned with old brewery mirrors and it's a place I will definitely return to. Hunger was calling and I popped into Lidl just down the road for a couple of pizza breads and a fruit turnover. Dinner for £3. I continued down "the bridges" and made my way to the meetup venue in Broughton Street. Funnily enough, the city's other Cask & Barrel pub is situated in this area and I usually pop in for a pint whenever the meetup is scheduled for the nearby Outhouse, which serves only keg beers.

Despite the cask ale no-show, I've always considered the Outhouse to be a great venue for the German group, primarily because we are allocated our own wee room upstairs. On my previous visit, I'd been pleasantly surprised to discover the premises were now being run by the St Andrews Brewing Company. I first became aware of the brewery a few years ago, selling their wares at Dunfermline farmers market. I subsequently visited their tap room in St Andrews - a rather trendy place with keg dispensers built into the back wall but also four old-school cask handpulls on the bar. Not as cheap as it first appeared either as the beer is served in a glass holding two thirds of a pint. I must stress a lot of this modern artisan keg beer is damn tasty stuff, far better than the insipid fizz I grew up drinking. The fact that St Andrews chose to run keg lines in the Outhouse was never really an issue with me. I entered the bar expecting to see some Fife beer on offer but it was conspicuous by its absence. Upon enquiring, I learned the bar had changed hands again. The real disappointment was the availability of only mainstream lagers and Belhaven Best. The latter has often been a go-to beer for me when no real ale is available. It's okay, just that. Mind you, at £3 a pint it was cheap by the capital's standards. There was a political theme at the meetup as I found myself in conversation with a couple of more radically minded souls. All good practice - but challenging. As always, it was a good night and I caught up with Mike and Stefan. Hadn't seen them in a few months. The bargain beer meant I had a couple of quid to ram into the vending machines in the bus station as I took a late service home.

Dunearn and more Devilla

I'm always on the lookout for local hills to climb. A couple of years ago I scaled The Binn which overlooks Burntisland on the Firth of Forth. I was aware of another peak slightly further inland which turned out to be called Dunearn Hill and there appeared to be easy access from the A909. Susan Beech runs the excellent Fife Walking website and it furnished me with further details of the route to the top. At 700 feet it would be a quick tramp up and down but what what really sold me was the promise of unusual artefacts at the summit.

I had checked out parking locations while passing and - annoyingly - concrete blocks had been placed in the lay-by next to the fishery entrance at the bottom of the slopes. This would have been an ideal place from which to launch an assault on the hill. Fortunately there was a slender strip of tarmac a couple of hundred yards further down. Just enough space to get the car off the road. I hopped over a metal gate and picked up the vague grassy path that led to the hillside. Ground level offered nice views of Stenhouse Reservoir with Windy Hill looming behind the water. I soon started the sharp climb, initially under tree cover but quickly emerging on to the open slopes. Unless you're in tip-top physical condition, gaining height rapidly is always tiring and I took a few pauses to look down upon the surrounding landscape. There was no path as such, rather a jumble of faint tracks but the destination was obvious. It was simply a case of keep climbing.

Once the gradient eased I could see there was a choice of two peaks on either side of a narrow valley. Beyond lay a small body of water named Dunearn Loch. Susan's walk description recommended a circuit around the little lake. I decided to tackle the hump on the left as it looked higher than its counterpart and also easier to scale. I quickly reached the top which was covered in low whin bushes and a few trees. There were sufficient gaps to allow a trouble-free passage and enjoy views to the east. There was however no sign of the grand piano I had read about on the Fife Walking site. I paced around to no avail before heading back down. It must be on the other peak, I mused. However this looked rockier and less promising than the summit I'd just scaled. I googled the piano and found a few images. The presence of the Forth Bridge in the background confirmed I did indeed have to switch sides. But first, a stroll around the loch.

Strangely, an old cast-iron bath tub was sitting on the shoreline - full of rainwater and complete with taps! It must have been a tough job to transport it out here. My parents used to have this type of tub and - as a teenager - I tried to help an older relative lift the bath during renovation works. No chance! The only option was to break it up with a sledgehammer. If you ever do this then please wear ear protection as the clang is unbelievably loud. I'll never forget it. I had to cover my ears after the first hit as the noise was actually painful. As to why someone would deposit an intact bath tub on the edge of the loch, perhaps it was used as a drinking trough? Or maybe someone just has a wacky sense of humour. Either way, it's a quirky sight. There was also a canoe lying alongside so I guess the loch is used for paddle practice. Moving on, I spotted a gateway in the surrounding stone wall and doubled back towards the rocky peak. The climb was easy enough and I soon reached the top where I finally found the remains of the piano. It had obviously been up here for a while as it had collapsed and lay in a heap on the ground. Nevertheless, the instrument was still easily recognisable.

Now the brain really does go into overdrive, wondering why on earth a heavy piano was lugged up here. It must indeed have been carried as there was no conceivable way to drive a vehicle up the final slope (whereas, the bath tub probably came at least part of the way on a tractor trailer along the access road to the nearby communications mast). There were stunning views of the Forth Bridges although the position of the sun made it impossible to take a meaningful picture. Certainly a beautiful spot for a sing-song! The piles of broken stonework were - I assume - the remains of the fort which once stood upon Dunearn Hill. I took the direct way back to the valley floor which involved throwing my water bottle ahead of me and carefully levering myself between the gaps in the rocky outcrop. The route to the car was the reverse of the upward climb and I was very happy with my afternoon's exploring. My feet were wringing wet although I was wearing my trusty hillwalking boots. I think there comes a point where the waterproof coating is no longer effective and nothing breaches it more quickly than swishing through knee-high sodden grass. I'm sure there must be a spray that re-applies the seal. I hope so, as the boots are a very comfortable fit.

Over in West Fife, I have been steadily ticking off the relics within Devilla Forest and the excellent map produced by local historians Bob and Meg Smith in the 90s has been invaluable in my quest to track the historical locations down. A working forest changes over time and the map is now around 25 years old. It also isn't drawn exactly to scale but is nonetheless an essential resource for the exploration of this huge plantation. I recently stumbled across a webpage where someone had created a Scribble Map pinpointing the exact locations of the forest treasures overlaid on a Google aerial view. The main path network had handily been drawn in. I wanted to trace the remains of Keir House and also find Keir Well. I decided to approach from the Kincardine End and take a quick walk up to Peppermill Dam in order to get a proper picture of the old reservoir. I'd had to rely on my basic smartphone on my previous visit. The sun was out and I snapped a few shots before making my way around the top end of Moor Loch on the way back. It was relatively straightforward to find the site of Keir House as it was close to a main path and a gap in the trees provided a glimpse of some crumbling stonework. I pushed my way through the undergrowth for a closer inspection.

A rectangular compound was surrounded by a wall which had two or three gaps. My guess is this layout marks the property boundaries. The interior was overgrown but there were no other visible structures. I couldn't find any information online about Keir House, although Keir Farm is close by. Indeed, I saw several horses in a field. A bit of a mystery then. Plenty of evidence still standing but no real confirmation of the function of the house. At this point the rain came on and this necessitated a lot of lens wiping as I tried to take some presentable photos. Time to continue on my merry way and see if could find the old well. The shower turned out to be brief and the skies rapidly cleared. Neither the Scribble Map nor the excellent OpenStreetMap (which usually shows all minor paths) suggested an easy way of reaching the well. My strategy was to walk to a sharp bend reasonably close to the site and rely upon dead reckoning from there. Unfortunately the area I had to enter was extremely boggy and thick spiny bushes proliferated. I did manage to force my way in and stand on a tree stump. I scanned my surroundings but couldn't see any evidence of a water source.

I retreated to the main track and began heading in the direction of the car. Just as I was about to turn off at the next path junction, I noticed there was an easy passage into the woodland and it might be possible to take a longer angled approach to the well from the other side. Worth a shot I told myself. I noticed blue ribbons tied to some of the trees and I remembered how similar sashes had guided me to the location of the strange stone circles in another part of the forest (later research revealed them to be old shooting butts from the days of the Tulliallan Estate). I picked up the ribbon trail and was led right to the spring. Success! I followed the course of the brook back through the trees and soon caught sight of the Keir House remains - now glinting in the sun! I reached a field boundary and was able to stand on the dyke and take some better quality pictures of the old walled enclosure. Backtracking, I diverted on to a narrow path which led to the main forest road. It appears I found the well the hard way. Hindsight is 20/20 vision but part of the fun is finding these locations by hook or crook. It's so easy to walk by a narrow trail leading off a main route, particularly if the beginning is even slightly obscured by vegetation. Anyway, my mission was now accomplished.

Devilla truly is a magical place. There are many things to seek out and it offers much more than your typical Forestry Commission woodland. Not every find is worth the trek however. A couple of weeks previously, I'd gone in search of the remnants of the explosives testing centre and the ruins of Praybrae House. The test area contained little more than a couple of decaying concrete walls and I stumbled across the foundations of the old house among the vegetation. A curio if you happened to be passing but not really a worthy expedition in itself. I did see my first Devilla red squirrel in the vicinity which was nice compensation. Back in the here and now, I wandered towards the forest exit leading into the grounds of the police college. Tulliallan Castle was constructed in the 1820s (an older building had stood on roughly the same site) and was taken over by the police authorities in the 1950s as a training centre for new recruits. Many of these grand estates fell into disrepair as the 20th century progressed and it's pleasing this fate didn't befall Tulliallan. It's a pleasant walk through the college gardens and part of the Fife core path network. The Scottish Police Memorial commemorates the officers who tragically lost their lives while on duty.

The sun was falling upon the castle building and I didn't waste the photo opportunity. Another fruitful expedition to Devilla. I walked the final stretch back to Kincardine in a happy mood. I assumed at the time I'd completed the Devilla treasure trail but I've since read about another couple of locations worth checking out. It's like a gift that keeps on giving! No matter where we live, there is an incredible amount of history on our doorstep worth exploring. It's simply a case of getting out and doing it. I've been inspired by reading other people's blogs and and one of the main reasons for writing my own reports is to give something back.