Dundee hills and ales

I loved my time in Dundee as a student and try to get up to the City of Discovery at least a couple of times a year. I'm a long-term member of CAMRA (Campaign for Real Ale) and when I found out the annual Members Weekend was taking in place in Dundee, I vowed to attend. A closer inspection of the dates revealed the event was opening on the first day of my Easter holidays - even better!

Naturally, I planned to make a day of it. There is a direct bus from Cairneyhill to Dundee which gets in around 10.30. My itinerary was along the lines of museum visit, buffet lunch, hill climb, drink beer. Stagecoach Buses offer a Fife Dayrider for £9.30. This represents excellent value for exploring the Kingdom. An extended ticket - which includes Dundee - can be purchased for £11.50. My first port of call was the McManus Galleries, a superb museum focussing on the history of Dundee and the surrounding area. There is an interesting natural history collection with an ancient log boat taking pride of place. Entry is free and the artefacts are hosted within a grand Victorian building. The upper floors are largely dedicated to paintings and while that's not really my passion, it's often the case that something grabs your attention. For some reason, this moody depiction of Highland cattle (pictured below) has always leapt out at me. Moorland and Mist was painted by Peter Graham in 1893 but all is not quite as it seems. While the artwork ostensibly conveys a Highland landscape, the cattle models actually lived on Graham's country estate in Buckinghamshire. But I like it regardless.

The new V&A Museum has attracted huge amounts of media coverage but anyone with a couple of hours to spare in Dundee ought to check out the McManus. It was getting close to noon - the traditional opening time for buffet restaurants. Off I headed to Whitehall Street where Jimmy Chung's is located. Chinese eat-all-you-can places don't always get the best reviews but you can fill up for a reasonable price and I just love the spare ribs in these joints. Less than a tenner for a lunch with a large coke doesn't break the bank. Of course, the daytime selection is curtailed and many of the dishes are chicken based with duck and prawns scarcely to be found. The key is always to stay on the right side of sensibility and leave enough space for dessert - especially those mango puddings! A spanner was thrown into the works when I noticed an Indian buffet had opened right next door to JC's. I must admit I swithered but ultimately I'm a great believer in sticking with your original choice. Out I waddled almost an hour later and headed towards Perth Road, passing another great Dundee Institution - Groucho's second-hand music store. Many an afternoon was spent browsing there as a student in the 90s. I dropped into DCA (Dundee Contemporary Arts) for a nose around but the exhibitions weren't my cup of tea. I was making my way towards Balgay Hill, the lesser known of the city's two peaks. There was time for a pit stop in the Speedwell Bar which has a historic interior and dispenses real ales. Instantly the barmaid asked if I was in town for the CAMRA event (the beard must have been a giveaway). Clearly several other members had located the pub and a wide variety of accents could be heard. All good business for the Dundee cask scene which has somewhat lagged behind Edinburgh and Glasgow.

Onward to Victoria Park - the starting point for Balgay Hill. It's an easy climb and I took the shortest route up the wooden staircase. An access road also leads to the observatory at the summit. I had been up here a couple of times previously but had never done both Dundee hills in one day. The observatory was closed - probably due to the presence of daylight (no shit Sherlock!) - and views of the city were restricted to glances through gaps in the trees. I descended on a grassy path known as the Coo Road which leads towards the Law - an extinct volcano that towers over the city. Suddenly the vista opened up with Cox's stack - a tall chimney from industrial times - standing proudly to my left. I worked my way towards the top of the Law, sometimes referred to tautologically as Law Hill. From here you can see across Dundee in all directions. Truly a magical place! Twice a kestrel hovered at eye level not far from me but by the time I'd scrambled for the camera it was gone. I spent an academic year in a shared house on the lower slopes of the Law and often hiked up to the summit for some quiet time. A large war memorial stands at the top and a long forgotten (and sealed) railway tunnel runs below.

It was time to return to the city centre and visit the CAMRA members bar at the Caird Hall. Approaching City Square - 15 minutes before opening time - I noticed a queue building up. Early birds, I assumed. Best to let it die down. I ducked into the Keiller Shopping Centre - a warren of outlets selling all manner of wares. At least that's what it used to be. It is now depressingly bare and many units are boarded up. Sign of the times I suppose. Back at the Caird Hall, the queue seemed to have grown and I had no other option than to stand in line. Trouble was, we didn't seem to be moving forward. Word filtered back about troubles with the electronic signing-in process, which had been touted as seamless, requiring attendees simply to enter their postcode and touch a button - or so the theory went. Things gradually sped up and I was in! Now, where was the bar? Better purchase some tokens first. I was handed a beer card instead, divided into 10p units. This was due to the ales having differing prices and your card was marked accordingly upon purchase. It seemed to work smoothly enough. I ended up sitting with a group of visitors from Bromley, Kent, who were up for the whole weekend. I sampled a few ales, glad that I'd finally got myself along to a large-scale CAMRA gathering and given something back to the noble cause.

Duct Traipse

One of the great things about walking is you can be out on a trail somewhere and spot signs pointing to other paths. Sometimes you wonder where a particular offshoot leads. Planning a route online opens up myriad possibilities. Many mental notes are made. Countless options present themselves. It really is a self perpetuating hobby.

Such was the case when I traversed the 270-yard long and 86-feet high Avon Aqueduct, which carries the Union Canal. The views from the top of the structure were lovely and a lengthy railway viaduct was prominent in the distance. It occurred to me that walking between the two bridges would make a nice outing in its own right. However, a 10-mile towpath pounding was the order of the day and I had no time to investigate down below. I did pass a sign pointing to the River Avon Heritage Trail and swore to come back and check this route out. Fast forward a year and I found myself making my way down the staircase from the canal embankment, having just crossed the aqueduct following a short walk from a lay-by on the B825. Some hasty shooting (with a camera, I hasten to add) of a pair of goosanders had provided the early excitement on this expedition. The ducks were haughty but I must have looked like Charles Hawtrey filming a scene from Carry On Snapping as I scurried back and forth, apparatus in hand. That and the discovery of a couple of locations where an old railway had obviously crossed the canal must have disorientated me, for I set off in the wrong direction before thinking, hang on, I'm sure the water was on my right the last time I approached the aqueduct.

Giant bridges are best appreciated from ground level. You can marvel at the scale of the engineering. I've always found it more difficult to admire the craftsmanship from the decking, although the view can of course be stunning. I had to deviate from the official trail to get up close and personal with the Avon Aqueduct but the going was easy enough. Back on the designated path (the John Muir Way no less!), I tracked the river for a couple of miles towards the obvious destination of the viaduct. Quite often a huge construction project is required for the bridging of a relatively small river but the land contours were gouged out during the ice age and the modern watercourse is merely a leftover trickle. Information boards furnished details of a battle which took place in these parts many moons ago. It's amazing what you learn while out exploring.

The viaduct tops the aqueduct in terms of arches, weighing in with a spectacular count of 23 against the dozen spans that channel the canal. The River Avon lies between the path and the viaduct but that's no bad thing as you need to step back from the structure in order to take in its true scale. Mr Sod was obviously on the magistrate's bench as I waited - camera in hand - for around ten minutes until giving up the ghost, only for a train to hurtle by.

Services are less frequent on a Sunday and in any case a locomotive-hauled train is a rare sight in Scotland these days. I wasn't too bothered about getting a shot of standard commuter carriages crossing the lengthy bridge. I walked back via a slight deviation around a pond and was rewarded with a sighting of tufted ducks. A successful day all round.

Abandoned in Polmont

On the fringes of Stirlingshire, Polmont is perhaps best known for its young offenders institution. Just outside the town, there is much for urban explorers to discover. I found two derelict country mansions and a forlorn castle all within easy walking distance of one another, although it was anything but a seamless mission. I initially spotted the castle while completing a lengthy stretch of the Union Canal and made a mental note to research the building and possibly pay a future visit. Months later, having explored the spectacularly ruined Dunmore House near Airth, I searched for similar abandoned properties in central Scotland and chanced upon the existence of Lathallan House. Just half an hour's drive from my village. Naturally I wanted to check the place out.

Google Maps showed a farm track leading from a minor road along to the house, with space to park nearby. Perfect! Upon arrival, I found the route barred by a high metal gate but I vaulted the low barbed wire fence to the side, walked through a farmers tunnel under the A801 and arrived at the old mansion in a matter of minutes. The place is in a sorry state. The roof and internal flooring are mostly gone and chunks of masonry have toppled. Lathallan House was completed by 1830 and originally part of a 270-acre estate named Laurence Park. The entire holding was offered for sale in 1862 with the main house described in a newspaper as containing a dining room, drawing room with attached conservatory, library, six bedrooms (two with adjoining dressing rooms), kitchen, attic space and ample accommodation for servants. The advert also stated the house had mains water and was situated in close proximity to Polmont and Linlithgow railway stations. The wider estate featured extensive pleasure grounds and a walled garden with forcing house, vinery and melon pit. The separate kitchen garden had 35 acres under plantation. Two lodges were included, along with commodious stables. Laurence Park was purchased by Archibald Spens of the Bombay Civil Service who changed the name of the estate to Lathallan. Spens died suddenly in 1869 and his widow Henrietta became head of the estate until her death in 1890. The census of 1881 confirms the presence of seven servants in the main house. 41-year-old daughter Isabel Spens was listed as having no occupation. The lodges were occupied by the coachman, gardener and their families. Extensions had been added to the house by this time. At the turn of the 20th century, Lathallan was in the hands of the Henry Salvesen from the renowned shipping family. He was the first man in Stirlingshire (and third in Scotland) to own a motor car. I wonder what the old coachman thought as the jalopy arrived on the estate! Dagmar Salvesen - widow of Henry - died at Lathallan in 1948 and her children had all made lives for themselves elsewhere. The antique furniture was sold at auction and Lathallan found itself back on the market. The house and grounds were bought by James Aitken Shanks for £5500. He had been a poultry farmer and smallholder near Torphichen and became a general dealer in building materials and scrap metal. He moved in with his wife and nine children and some rooms were let out. At some point the estate entered a period of decline. Shanks was living in one of the cottages by the 1990s and it was reported the big house was in poor condition and surrounded by piles of scrap. A violent robbery in 1993 resulted in poor James - now aged 87 - and his partner Betty McCracken being bound and threatened by a masked gang. The ringleader was subsequently sentenced to five years in prison. James died two months later in hospital and the house has crumbled away ever since. A dispute over ownership ensued and a fire in 2006 ended all talk of potential restoration.

The latter part of the 20th century seems to have been a tough time for many grand old estates. High running costs, crippling inheritance tax and public indifference to the fate of these country piles has resulted in several being demolished or left to nature. Apparently taking the roof off was a way of avoiding death duties on the property but of course this simply led to the houses deteriorating rapidly. I understand the resentment towards individual families having such vast living quarters but is letting these grand houses go to ruin the solution? They have already been built and could surely benefit the surrounding community in some way. Then again, the dwellings are often located off the beaten track with access roads designed for horse and carriage. Large parcels of land are invariably part of the equation.

I walked around Lathallan House and was able to gain access by a side entrance. It's not much fun scrambling over rotting planks and other assorted debris but this part of the property seemed relatively dry and at least navigable without any risk of breaking an ankle. A surprisingly solid spiral staircase led upwards - too good an opportunity to miss. Surprisingly, a baby gate was in place at the top of the stairs which swung effortlessly aside, leading to the only upper part of the mansion that could be reasonably described as terra firma. The areas of blue sky where the roof should have been did at least afford nice views of the architecture. Making my way back down, I found a box of cloakroom tickets marked in old money. All bone dry! They must have been at least 50 years old. How does random stuff like this survive? Upon completing my inspection, I chanced upon a middle-aged fellow milling around outside. It turned out he was a local who for the past 20-odd years had seen the place from a distance while driving. He'd picked today to finally check it out! I headed home, regarding the mission a success. I had a pile of pictures for the obligatory Facebook post. Imagine my surprise when I dug around online for additional information and saw a reference to another abandoned house in the vicinity. A swift visit to Google Maps revealed the position of Avondale House, less than a mile away from Lathallan as the crow flies, but tucked behind a landfill site on the other side of the motorway. Only one thing for it then - a return trip across the Kincardine Bridge the following day. Would have been insanely rude to stay at home!

Once again, the map showed an access track leading to the prize. This was easily located but a flimsy rope barrier was strung across the pathway with a sign saying Private - Keep Out. There is no legal force behind this sort of thing so I simply carried on past the adjacent cottage. Perhaps the occupant simply wanted to deter visitors. In any case, nobody challenged me. The grassy track led through an impressive archway (pictured) and past the stable complex. Suddenly Avondale House appeared in front of me. I hadn't known what to expect regarding the state of the property. The photos I had found online depicted the relatively intact house protected by steel shutters. I had also read reports of a serious fire within the last couple of years and a the Buildings at Risk register said a resident caretaker had been in place until the mid-90s. I approached a ring of metal security fencing but noticed it was breached in a couple of places. The house was an empty shell with all internal flooring having collapsed. The roof, doors and windows were all gone. However, the mock-Gothic remains were quite a sight. Avondale dates from the 16th century and was later remodelled with striking turrets and battlements. The Salvesen family controlled the estate between the wars and it subsequently served as a military hospital for Polish personnel. A newspaper advert appeared in 1950, offering the entire place for sale. The mansion was described as having four principal rooms, six bedrooms and three secondary bedrooms, each with wash-hand basin. The property had two general bathrooms and one such facility for servants. The presence of lavatories was stated and the house was equipped with mains electricity and central heating. Perhaps these features were not always standard back then.

The sale also included a cultivated walled garden (with glasshouses), along with the stables and various other outbuildings. I can only assume Avondale was purchased as a family home. I found a comment on a message board from a chap who said he had grown up there in the 60s. Obviously the recent blaze had been devastating and the interior of the building was basically filled with mounds of rubble. There was no sense of making your way along corridors or from room to room as had been the case in parts of Lathallan House. Some interior walling did remain but everything was completely exposed to the elements. One thing that seemed to have survived was the central heating pipework. It dangled from above at crazy angles, leading down to rusting old radiators at ground level. Despite the destruction, there were a surprising amount of possessions strewn around the site. A pair of kitchen scales was just one of many objects I examined. Another successful day. My third visit to the area was a trip to view the ruins of Almond Castle. Once again, I parked just off the Lathallan Roundabout and took a public right of way I had identified on the excellent Open Street Map. This led alongside a fenced-off old quarry but an official access point and information board informed me the place is now a designated wild nature reserve. Hastily scribbled in diary! I sensed the path was taking me close by Lathallan House and when I reached the railway crossing, I climbed up a grassy slope to see if I could spot the old mansion. A stunning scene was revealed.

I had a perfect elevated view of Lathallan and the sprawling Grangemouth complex sat incongruously - yet compellingly - in the background. All set against the lush backdrop of the Ochil Hills. This is one of the best photographs I have composed. Not bad for a guy who has never used his camera in anything other than automatic mode! Onward to the castle. The woodland path skirted the Union Canal embankment which served as a reminder that the term navvy stems from navigator and refers to the men who built the waterway infrastructure. The railways of course came later. I merged with the towpath and proceeded to the point where Almond Castle came into view. It sits in an area of industrial dereliction, that much I had gathered on my previous walk-by, but it's not until you step down into the compound that you appreciate the vast scale of the site. Piles of rubble and vast concrete bases stretch into the distance. There was a handy gap in the fence around the castle and the building is now in a precarious state. It doesn't look like much is holding the roof up and the structure is hollow inside - rather like an older version of the mansions I'd just explored.

The castle was abandoned shortly after the Jacobite uprising and began to decay. The demolition of the surrounding brickworks has brought it back into focus

in a mock post-apocalyptic manner. Scotland has any number of sanitised stately homes and restored defensive positions, therefore it's actually refreshing to visit a castle more of interest to the urbex crowd than the usual tourist throng. Mission accomplished, it was time to walk back to the car which was - funnily enough - parked on one of these spurs to nowhere just off a roundabout. Some building projects never reach the gestation stage. It just shows how much is out there waiting to be found when you plan a trip, pull it off and return home bursting with pride at your exploits and ready to unleash your photos upon the world, only to discover you missed a great deal. The experience really whetted my appetite for more of this old house exploration. Abandonment presents two sides of the coin. A loss of living heritage opens another door to those who stumble through and wonder what life must have been like here in the past.