So, I’m
sitting at the bar of the Café Royal with a pint of Guinness , half a dozen
oysters, and a Colin Parsons Scotsman crossword. During the course of the
morning I have brief or extended conversation with a a variety of teachers,
journalists, petty criminals, and the occasional serious criminal. Around 2.30 I
step outside into the watery Edinburgh sunshine, smell the breweries and ……”oh,
that magic feeling – nowhere to go “
But that was
then – this is now. Memories tend to flood back when your nurse practitioner
has filled in a form, in writing, in black and white, officially, saying that
you are not expected to live for more than 6 months. Max. Everything is in
hand. Will, kids briefed, blue badge , wheelchair, non-funeral arranged. I
believe Mrs. OM has also booked her cruise for month 7. They even offered to
show me round the hospice, but I told them to fuck off –one has to maintain one’s standards.
Will this be
the last post ?Exciting, isn’t it.
Abraxas was
a good album that stood the test of time for me
… when
siltstones and mudstones are subjected to extreme temperatures and pressure.
Obviously. Shit, on the other hand,
happens when you abuse your body over a long period of time, resulting in, as
in my case, two “severe” heart conditions and cirrhosis of the liver. All
untreatable. This is bad news. Bad news indeed.
I thought I should
let you all (?) know in order to explain
the recent (and future) lack of exciting hillwalking posts. I may use the blog space
to do a retrospective, or some political rants, or the 500 greatest albums. Or
something. Suggestions welcome.
Some of you
probably have a local walk, or part of a walk which you use to estimate your
relative level of fitness after a long lay-off or period of illness. I have
several. After having been hors de wombat for about three months, my
expectations have been low, and confined to walking up the village to the
shops. On Thursday I made it up to the Co-op and back without having to stop
for a breather. This was a triumph. Joy was unconfined and the peasantry
celebrated in style. Canons were fired, commemorative coins were struck, and
prisoners were pardoned ( but not by the canons – they had been fired, remember
?)
This, as I told
the reporter from the Karachi Press and Journal at the press conference, is
only the beginning. I have my mind set on the mighty Dumyat (by the direttissima
– Warlock gully) in early summer, before the bracken gets too high.
Thereafter,
the world is my oxter. In the meantime, I am working for a couple of days next
week. This will not involve much walking. I shall travel to the Weege by train
, and, on arrival, someone will call me a hansom cab. I will then spend a couple of days trying to create
an impression that is more gravitas than Dignitas. Ah well. And so it goes (KV)
One of my
favorite Spider John Koerner songs sung by 12-stepper Bonny Raitt complete with
Koerner’s trademark footstomp.
“Please excuse OM from walking and
blogging. He is proper poorly at the moment (since November, actually) and he’s
all swollen up with yon fluid.
He seems to be getting a bit better,
so I’m going to let him out to play next
week. No rough games, mind you. Just some gentle strolling about the town.
Perhaps some of that “anti-photography. I hope this is alright with you.
His Mum. (Her mark) “
Thanks ,
mum. That should fool them. They don’t know you’ve been dead for ten years.
Here’s one of your favourite wee tunes
At the end of a year which has seen the country ravaged by threats of international terrorism, natural disasters, and Jeremy Clarkson, a nation turns it's weary eyes toward someone who can provide a message of hope for the coming twelve months. A beacon of light and promise in............ Oh just fucking get on with it. Ed. OK.
Alighting
from the bus, I looked around for someone from whom to ask directions. The only
person in sight was a little old lady carrying two shopping baskets apparently
containing only Pringles, Rizlas, and chocolate bars. I asked her how to get to
the museum, and her response was “ Wow. Yeah, the museum. Cool. Might be over
that way. Hey. Cool,”
Yes, I was
in Wanlockhead, the highest village in Scotland.
I soon
located said“Museum of Lead Mining”,
and registered for the mine tour. At its peak, there were 47 lead mines and
several copper, gold and silver mines in a two mile stretch between here and
the neighbouring village of Leadhills.The lead mainly went to the Low Countries
by way of Leith.
A lot of
work has gone into re-opening this mine and making it suitable for visitors.
The galena
ore was dragged out on these sledges by wee boys, You had to earn your X-box in
those days.
The remains
of the smelter
One of the
deep mines. Some went down to 600 ft below sea level. Big deal ? Well yes, if
you remember that the surface here is 1500 ft above sea level.
The spoil heaps are a mecca for mineral collectors
The beam
engine - unusually operated by a water-filled, self-tipping bucket at the
opposite end from the pump.
A lump of
Wanlockhead galena.
A good day
out, including a wee rail trip from Glasgow to Sanquhar I realised that I hadn’t been in Ayrshire for
a ridiculously long time and resolved to remedy this at the earliest opportunity
. I think Liege and Lief is in my Top 5 albums
Yes, for a
limited period only, it’s “Blog one – get one free”
(Terms and
conditions apply. Remember, hillwalking can go down as well as up. By reading
this blog your house may be at risk.)
In an
attempt to further increase the popularity of this blog, I am including details
of two (not one – TWO ! Count them.) recentwalks, or bimbles, if I may borrow a mot juste from the lexicon of
Professor Sloman.
First up, we
have a wee wander up to the Bracklin Falls at Callander.
Callander is
an unlikely conglomeration of chip shops, ice cream parlours, and shops selling
tartanoiserie, which owes its popularity to its position a mere charabancexcursion distance from the great city of
Glasgow. Its situation at the edge of the Highland Boundary Fault (OK, I’ve
already done all the culpability jokes on this),allows the day-trippers to admire the glory
of the Dalradian metamorphics without exposing themselves to the risk of
altitude sickness.
Now, you can
drive up the hill to the tourist car park- if you’re a wimp. However, regular
readers know that I am made of stuff sterner than a German magazine, so I
walked up. This went well – nothing spectacular, but quietly pleasing.
From the car
park the path contours round the hill and then drops into the gorge at the
falls.
Some vertical
bedding which may be of interest to those of you who sleep standing up.
The original
bridge was swept away some years ago and replaced by this award-winning
structure.
Heading up
the gorge
At the top
of the gorge I crossed over and returned down the farm road. I was looking out
for the unsigned path off the road which led to this.
One of many
Red Wells or chalybeate springs where people used to come to drink iron oxide
infused water long before Barrs invented our other national drink. Still
trickling, to prove that, as Neil Young claimed, Rust Never Sleeps.
This bench,
next to the well, commemorates the founder of Callander’s leading Scots-Italian families. For years they
had the legendary Ben Ledi chip shop.
Part The
Second was a little spin up Myreton Hill.
But you don’t do hills. OM
Well, I do.
But verrrry slowly.
I had
already summited Myreton Hill as part of my compleation of the WhaMs. (Wee
hills above Menstrie) so this time I was not heading for the top, but following
the old pony track to the calcite mine.
No one seems
to know why anyone tried to mine a relatively common mineral such as calcite in
such a remote location. It certainly didn’t seem to be a success, and only a
small quarry and an adit blocked by a large gorse bush remain.
Good walk,
though – stretched the legs, expanded the lungs and worked what is left of the
heart. Onward and upward !!
Poor quality
clip , obviously taken on someone’s
phone, but worth it for a classic song by one of my favourite ladies.
It being
that time of year again, I resolved to road-test my birthday socks with a
traverse of Sauchie Craigs. This year’s bad boys are ultra high-tech, featuring
wifi, satnav and differential cushioning. They also are designated “right” and
“left”, something I naturally only discovered after putting them on – on the
wrong feet.
The trek up
to the foot of the Craigs from the nearest bus stop is a long , steep, tarmac slog, so I
was delighted to scrounge a lift for part of the way.
As elsewhere
in Scotland, the post-war timber planting is now being harvested. I find it
quite spooky, and often disorientating, when a familiar patch of forestry is
suddenly transformed into one of these “Hiroshima” landscapes.
Sauchie
Craigs are at the western end of the line of basaltic intrusions which cross
the Forth valley at Stirling and include the Abbey Craig (WallaceMonument) and
the Castle Hill. Whereas the others are typically plugs, with the crag and tail
configuration, this is more of a continuous sill.
I’m very
slow on hills these days, so it took me a stupid amount of time to get onto the
top of the escarpment, but, hey, I had nothing else in my diary for the day,
and it doesn’t get dark until 10 o’clock, so suck it up.
North Third
reservoir.
That’s
Carron Valley in the distance. It was a relatively sunny day, and I had hoped
for good views, particularly north to the Highland Fault, but instead there was
an annoying haze (“all in my head”).
The Craigend
lime kilns. The valley used to be covered in limestone, deposited when it was
an inlet of the sea, then the glacier scraped it all away, except for the
patches “protected” by the hard volcanic rock. There was lime burning here from
very early days.
Blue spruce.
And a return
to civilisation at the quaint rural hamlet of St.Ninians.
Good game,
good game. About 8 miles and 900ft of upness.
Better than
a poke in the eye with a sharp stick. Indeed.
Alloa Tower. erstwhile home of Sir John
Erskine, who “entertained” Mary Queen of Scots here. (nudge, nudge). Now, as
some of you may be aware, entertaining young queens doesn’t come cheap and Sir
John was skint. One day, while out serf-hunting with the dogs, he noticed Mr.
and Mrs. McBaldrick scraping black shiny stones out of the ground and setting
fire to them to amuse their 28 children.
Soon the
estate’s entire peasantry was busy 28 hours a day digging the black shiny
stones out of the ground and transporting them to the nearby Alloa docks for
onward shipment to people who had a use for them.
As the holes
got deeper, so they filled with water and children were being drowned at a
faster rate than their parents could replace them. Sir John called in a Welsh
mining engineer who decided that the best way to deal with the water was
…….with water ! A local burn was dammed and a system of water driven pumps was
set up. When more effective drainage systems became available, the water from the
dam was still used by several local mills (including a snuff mill) and a distillery.
The outflow ended up at Alloa docks where, at one time, it was collected in
large cisterns and released at low tide to flush the silt out of the harbour.
The dam wall
was raised several times and a weir was built on the river Black Devon with a
lade supplying top up water. At one time it was said to be the largest man-made
water feature in Europe.
Overgrown
lade
At various
times it has been used as a hydro-electric scheme and as a drinking water
reservoir. Currently it’s a country park and recreation facility.
Filter beds
from drinking water incarnation – now a sunken garden.
The remains
of Sherrifyard colliery – in production up until 1921.
The line of
the old railway to Alloa.
I believe
that, in a previous post, I told you ‘bout the swans (that they live in the
park)
Good walk –
about 4 miles bus stop to bus stop – negligible up. A stroll in the park,
really
