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.