River Clyde Walkway

The 40-mile river trail starts in the middle of Glasgow and winds its way upstream to the historic village of New Lanark. This report details the third stage from Blantyre to Wishaw. My first foray had been the urban section between the city and Cambuslang, where I found an amazing Wetherspoons pub that had been converted from an old cinema. I followed this up with a lovely outing from Cambuslang to Blantyre, passing the impressive Bothwell Castle.

I drove through to Blantyre early on a Saturday morning, parking close to the David Memorial suspension footbridge which spans the river. Unfortunately the nearby visitor centre is currently closed for refurbishment. I set off, spotting a bullfinch almost immediately. Always nice to tick a few wildlife boxes. Lanarkshire Council has produced a few handy PDFs detailing the various stages of the trail and the literature described the portion just beyond Blantyre as very informal. Apparently a steep embankment would have to be negotiated and a detour was suggested, referred to on the excellent Walk Highlands website as untidy due to the fact it involved boring pavement pounding. I decided to try my luck on the informal route, mainly because I wanted to see the remains of the towering Bothwell Viaduct. It was actually a fairly simple scramble down the embankment and a grassy expanse dotted with faint paths spread out in front of me. The viaduct piers were partially obscured by vegetation but I took some photos of the tops sticking out then made my way across the clearing. I think it's part of an old estate now used by dog walkers. I found a gap in the wall to pass through on the far side.

I had to follow a cycleway alongside the busy A725 for a stretch, thankfully screened from the traffic by trees. This led by the historic Bothwell Lido and I then had to navigate towards Strathclyde Country Park by crossing a couple of footbridges over motorway interchanges. The instructions in the council leaflet were out of date at this point, suggesting I take a flight of steps down to the riverbank. There was a path but it was badly neglected and I soon hit a dead end against the earthwork of a new carriageway. I had to backtrack and follow a tarmac cycle path alongside the road. A minor grumble. The traffic noise faded as I entered the huge green space with its artificially created loch. It was a pleasant if largely featureless stroll for a couple of miles along the water's edge. A rowing competition appeared to be in progress. I briefly jumped off the trail for a look at the mausoleum on the outskirts of Hamilton. Apparently it has an impressive echo chamber within but the building is only open a couple of times per month.

Onwards to an attractive leafy trail closely following the banks. I passed under a huge railway viaduct. A train was courteous enough to pass just as I pointed my camera. The route took on an increasingly rural feel as it skirted Baron's Haugh Nature Reserve and I checked out a couple of bird hides. Entering Dalzell Estate, my way was blocked by half a dozen cows. Not wishing to confront them directly, I hopped into the adjacent field and quietly gave them a wide berth. Suddenly a family hared round the bend on bikes and barged their way through the cattle, ringing bells and shouting in what sounded like Spanish. Ok, that's how it's done then. The river was becoming noticeably narrower and a grassy path followed its course through pasture land. I was planning to leave the walkway at a point close to a ruined mansion known as Cambusnethan Priory. From here I could walk to the town of Wishaw and catch a train. An old structure flashed up on my internal radar but it was too early for the priory. I decided to cut across a bumpy field and investigate.

It turned out to be the site of an old family tomb. Several gravestones stood around the tall monument. Subsequent research revealed the name of the place as Belhaven Mausoleum. The site is overgrown and clearly no longer maintained. However this does add to the atmosphere and it's always nice to find something completely unexpected. Eventually I reached the point where I had to leave the official Clyde Walkway and take a minor single-track road towards the old priory. Passing a pig farm and a couple of residential properties, the mansion appeared in front of me as I rounded a tight bend. I had been able to find this location on Google Street View and knew what to expect. These buildings however are always more imposing in real life, especially when illuminated by the sun. Yes, on a rather drab day, I had arrived at exactly the right time as the weather took a turn for the better. Out came the trusty camera. I believe this is a well-known location among urban explorers and I met a few other people checking the place out. The priory has been abandoned since the early 1980s and dates from 1820. It has fallen into serious disrepair and is now little more than an empty shell, although the wonderfully crenellated gothic-style architecture of the remaining walls blows you away.

I did find a way into the cellars and climbed back out of a window space on the far side. The internal flooring has all gone, which is what happens when you whip the roof off. I believe this tactic of rendering the property uninhabitable allowed the owners to avoid paying rates but it also ensured a swift decline. I assume the Listed Building legislation prohibits demolition and these old decaying mansions seem to be caught in limbo. Massively expensive to restore, they are simply left to rot. I wonder if the protected status can eventually be overridden should the structure decline into a dangerous state, or indeed if the property holders can then be forced to pay for shoring-up measures? Explorers now have the opportunity to hunt these places down but how many buildings could have been put to community use rather than left to decay? High running costs probably sealed the fate of many a grand old house.

The usual post-urbex buzz was worn away by a steep trudge uphill to Wishaw. In the mood for a cold drink, I located a cashpoint only to be told I would be charged a fee for making a withdrawal. The same message was displayed at another ATM. Very strange. I was on a public street in a densely populated part of Scotland. You often have to pay for using machines inside the boundaries of, say, a concert venue, but not in town centres! Looks as if the drive towards the cashless society has already started in Lanarkshire. And who exactly will be hit the hardest? Hmmm, let me think about that one. On my high horse, I dug out my small change and scraped together 69p for a half-litre can of Irn Bru. Why should I pay to access my own money (which the banks use to make a profit from borrowers)? Also, how many local branches have been closed over the years in the name of cost cutting? And don't get me started on the big taxpayer funded bail-out following the financial crisis. The banks owe us! I had to take two trains back to Blantyre, changing at Motherwell. The Clyde Walkway is certainly an interesting trail and its central location makes it easily accessible to a huge swathe of the population. I would however like to see the annoying diversions tidied up, particularly at the Glasgow end which is where the main market lies.

Greenock Tunnels

I've been obsessed with dismantled railways ever since my dad took me as a small boy for a tramp along some of the old lines around my home town of Lochgelly. Over the years I've developed a sixth sense for sniffing out the contours of abandoned infrastructure while out and about. Just before the internet kicked in, I purchased a few late-period Victorian maps and formally traced the original local network, visiting a few locations here and there. The advent of online mapping (with overlaying) really raised the bar and that's when I became a dedicated railway explorer. The Old Fife Railways page on Facebook is a great place for sharing information about these exploits.

I ran the gauntlet of the Glenfarg tunnels in Perthshire many years ago. I've also walked through the impressive Neidpath tunnel in Peebles. There is a huge amount of railway relics to explore in Greenock - unusually with tracks still in place. I discovered this by chance during a previous visit to the town. I was on my way to the start of the Greenock Cut reservoir trail and happened to notice an abandoned deep cutting and gated tunnel mouth while walking along the street. Later research revealed the existence of several tunnels, bridges and viaducts. The longest tunnel curved through a wide arc and even crossed the bore of a live line. This was starting to get interesting. I vowed to return and put boots on the ground. That must have been three years ago but now I found myself at a loose end and decided to drive through early on a Sunday morning. The dry spell was advantageous because sunken railway engineering tends to get very muddy. It does of course pay to do your research prior to setting out on a mission. I had identified an access point near an old viaduct with ample parking close by.

The railway I was investigating originally formed part of a connection between Glasgow and Greenock Princes Pier. The passenger boat trains ceased in 1965 and services to Greenock were subsequently concentrated on the alternative line that approaches the town along the riverside. A leftover stub carried freight to the harbour until the early 90s, which explains the rusting rails in situ. From the outskirts of Greenock, the old route now functions as a cycle path to Paisley, while the urban section has been left to decay. I found the opening that led up to the viaduct. Access to the decking was barred by a steel fence therefore I had to proceed along the trackbed in the other direction. Almost immediately I came across the overgrown platforms of Greenock Lynedoch Station, closed in 1959. I made good progress along the tracks, dodging the usual debris lying around. At 9am on a Sunday morning there wasn't another soul around, although I did spot a few rabbits and a pair of bullfinches. I passed through a lovely brick-lined cutting and high above me was a stone arched bridge hoisting a road over the tracks. I could see the entrance to a tunnel looming beyond and dug a torch out of my pocket.

Unless a tunnel is very short, you are greeted by the pitch black face of the entrance portal as you approach. Some tunnels are curved and therefore dark in the middle. Others follow a straight course and you see light spilling in at the far end as you walk. Trafalgar Street tunnel was somewhere in between, following an S-shape bore of 420 yards with partial illumination creeping round. It was still pretty gloomy inside though and a flashlight was helpful. I noticed water ingress here and there but nothing too serious. I pointed my torch downwards at the sleepers and proceeded with a steady rhythm. The tunnel was almost a quarter of a mile long and my first with actual tracks on the floor. They say veteran submariners never truly get used to the weird popping noises made by the hull when deep below the waves and even the toughest recruits can be brought to their knees. Pings and rumbles do echo down long tunnels and it can certainly be unnerving. I've heard stories of people bricking it in the centre and I know there are those who wouldn't enter under any circumstances. Eventually I emerged at the opposite end.

There was an impressive amount of infrastructure on view and walking below street level gave a splendid feeling of urban isolation and also provided a bit of soundproofing from the hustle and bustle going on above. Streams of water flowed along the edges of the tunnel floor but the raised profile of the trackbed ensured a dry passage. Back among the greenery, I found the underfoot conditions becoming increasingly boggy and I had to pick my way carefully. These conditions are normal for overgrown lines and I've certainly seen worse. At one point I was using the exposed rail as a base for my left foot while I decided where to plant my right. I didn't trust my balancing skills to glide along the steelwork like a gymnast on a high beam. Another tunnel loomed ahead, this one relatively short at 150 yards and slightly curved. Interesting, if unspectacular.

Everything had gone to plan so far but when I reached the final tunnel entrance, it was blocked by a sharpened palisade fence. This was a disappointment as I knew it to be the monster that ran for over 700 yards and passed either above or below a much longer bore on the existing line to Gourock. I had also read online reports of people walking this tunnel in years gone by. However it wasn't a total surprise as I'd seen similar fencing at the port end when walking in the area. I did however watch a few guys penetrate the blackness on YouTube when I got home. They seemed to be experienced urbexers and no doubt had the proper kit to get over the spikes (although they didn't show this part). Presumably you need a short ladder and some sort of protective saddle, then you drag the ladder over the fence behind you (or pull it through the gaps, or take two ladders, or position one in advance, something along these lines anyway). I had spotted a little plastic climbing aid behind the barrier. People with more know-how than me. The video footage revealed the final tunnel to be very wet and the explorers didn't venture too close to the far end. Port Authority land is one of the few instances where Scots law can hit you with a trespass charge. One of the good things about linear tunnel walks is you get to do it all over again, so back along the tracks I headed.

The towns of Gourock and Greenock merge into each other and there is a lovely promenade walk between the two. I parked the car and had a look at the huge cruise ship sitting in the dock. A cargo terminal perhaps isn't the prettiest stopover point for tourists but the deep water facilities required to handle these vessels are few and far between. Not needing a tender to shuttle passengers back and forth must increase the efficiency of the operation and - in any case - Greenock is close enough to Glasgow and Ayrshire to allow onward connections for a nice day trip. The scenic county of Argyll is easily reached by ferry across the Clyde from Gourock. Further down the Renfrewshire coast, the Isle of Bute can be accessed from Wemyss Bay. I drove into Gourock, finding a seat near the famous outdoor swimming pool with lovely views across the firth. I then took a seaside stroll, passing a row of little palm trees.

Time was pressing and I was expecting a visit from our neighbour and cat sitter Liz. I hit the road and pulled in at Forth Valley Hospital for a quick bite to eat. Their restaurant is open to the public and offers several choices of main course. There is ample seating and you can easily fill up here for less than a tenner. It was nice to relax and sift through my pictures from a great day's exploring. Having already surveyed most of the dismantled railways in Fife and surrounding areas, it was nice to go further afield into unknown territory. Many old routes have of course been converted to walking and cycling paths over the intervening years. While it's good to have easy access to these lines, there's something special about roaming across railway land that has simply been left to the ravages of time. Provided of course you can find a way through.

Dumbarton Rock

One of the great things about online mapping is you often find walking trails purely by chance. I had spotted a route along the River Leven running from Balloch at the southern tip of Loch Lomond to Dumbarton on the Clyde. Although I'm a keen user of public transport, there are times when it makes little economic sense or takes way longer than driving. This was one such occasion and I hopped into the car for a trip into deepest Dunbartonshire.

I got a good run along the A811 from Stirling before hitting a very busy Balloch. A running event was in progress and parking was at a premium. I found a spot on the edge of town and wandered into the centre. The river path I wanted to follow was part of the race route but fortunately it was just the stragglers remaining. I strolled along the riverbank on a pleasant day and jumped off the walkway at Alexandria, heading into the town to have a look at the Victorian fountain which was sadly turned off. Back on the Leven trail, I passed a historic football ground. Millburn Park is the home of Vale of Leven FC who now play in the regional leagues. The club was an early giant of the Scottish game, winning the Scottish Cup three times successively in the 1870s. Millburn Park has been their home since 1888 and I perched my camera on the boundary wall to take a few snaps. A groundsman going about his duties shouted over to inform me the gate was open and to come inside. I stood on the old terracing and cast an eye around the arena. No doubt there are many ghosts from the past here.

As I left Alexandria behind, the next settlement on the river was Renton, another famous name from the origins of football. The village team lifted the Scottish Cup twice in the 1880s and were proclaimed "world champions" after defeating the FA Cup holders West Bromwich Albion in a challenge match. A change of scenery was in store as the path ran through an area of marshland on the approach to Dumbarton. Leaving the water at a scenic marina, I made my way to the High Street and bought a sausage supper from a chip shop, eating outside on a bench. It was around a mile and a half to walk out to Dumbarton Castle on the shores of the Clyde. The ancient fortification sits atop the massive volcanic plug of Dumbarton Rock and you certainly can't miss it. I paid the entrance fee and started climbing the first of several flights of steps. There were various exhibition rooms explaining the detailed military history of the castle. It has always occupied a highly strategic position, sitting on one of the main watercourses leading into central Scotland.

The highlight was the viewing platform at the very top of the rock. I could see up and down the Clyde and the hills rose in the distance. Directly below was the home stadium of Dumbarton FC, one of the oldest clubs in the Scottish League. The Sons won the inaugural competition. I was certainly getting my fill of football history today! I could see the entire pitch and you would definitely enjoy a bird's eye view of the action from up here. An amazing panorama and I was glad I'd gone the extra distance from the town to the castle. Back in Dumbarton, I located the railway station which retained a distinct Victorian character and I was soon back in Balloch, the last stop on the line. A great walk with an easy transport connection back to the start. I urge everyone to visit Dumbarton Castle and scale the rock. It really is worth the effort.