Continuing the Canal

Back in 2016, I began a project which involved walking the canals of Central Scotland. The towpaths are fully accessible to pedestrians and cyclists. They often form part of long distance established trails. I had researched the routes a year previously and was handed the ideal opportunity to start putting boots on the ground when Nicole was offered funding to train as a yoga teacher in Glasgow. This involved one overnight stay per month over the course of a year. I quickly piggy-backed on the deal and used the hotel accommodation to launch a monthly walking expedition in the West of Scotland. The Forth & Clyde Canal begins (or ends?) in Bowling, Dunbartonshire and runs across Central Scotland to Grangemouth, Stirlingshire - the narrowest passage through the lowlands. The waterway was opened in 1790 and - save for a spell of near dereliction in the latter half of the 20th century - has provided a sea-to-sea connection for commercial and leisure traffic ever since. I began my trek at Bowling and - over many individual legs - completed the entire stretch before progressing to the Union Canal which leaves the Forth & Clyde at Falkirk and winds its way to Edinburgh. My latest wander was from Linlithgow to Winchburgh and I'll begin by writing about this West Lothian walk. As it's part of a wider project which pre-dates the formation of this blog, I'll then switch to some earlier tales from the towpath.

I am doing the canals strictly from end to end. I don't skip a section because I might have walked it before. The next outing begins where the last left off. The only exception I made to this rule was in dealing with the short spur into Glasgow city centre. I decided I would pick this off at a time of my choosing. Depending on distance and the availability of public transport, at the end of a stage I would either retrace my steps or hop on a bus or train. My previous leg had finished just as I approached Linlithgow. I had jumped off the towpath and made my way down to the western end of the lengthy High Street. I visited the small but informative town museum before taking the bus back to my starting point of Falkirk. Linlithgow has strong connections with Scottish royalty and Mary Queen of Scots was born here in the palace back in 1542. The town also features a lovely loch just a few steps from the main thoroughfare and a circuit is a popular local wander. Also an excellent bird spotting opportunity. Nicole and I and have visited Linlithgow many times over the years and it actually lies just three miles distant across the water as the crow flies. The road distance via the Kincardine Bridge is approximately six times greater. I parked in a quiet street near the steps down to the canal, which runs high above the town. I had an excellent view across the rooftops and the spire of St Michael's Church was a striking focal point. No doubt people often mistake this structure for the palace when viewing from afar. The autumn colours of the canal-side vegetation were spectacular and reflecting in the water. St Michael's Church was completed in 1540 but the cross-shaped white aluminium spire was erected as recently as 1964. I passed the Linlithgow Canal Centre where several craft were docked. Pleasure cruises now account for the vast majority of boat traffic and public trips are available from Linlithgow. Barges can also be privately hired (with crew) and are suitable for catered events. The tearoom and canal museum (housed in a former stable) were closed due to Corona but I'm sure I'll return at some point. Boats were actually horse-drawn before the advent of motive power - hence the term towpath. I also came across a statue of a cat and made a mental note to investigate this story when I got home. Actually I didn't, I looked it up on my smartphone there and then. Amazing how you can learn on the move! Here's the tale.

The likeness of Dudley was cast in clay and he sits on a granite plinth. Local benefactor Liz Burrows was Dudley's owner and apparently he could often be seen by the canal banks. The statue is Linlithgow's version of Greyfriar's Bobby. I'm a sucker for a good old kitty yarn. I also stopped to photograph the nearby dovecot. This is a very pleasant area for a stroll and I'm thankful the Millennium Fund helped restore the canal and make it a haven for walkers and wildlife. Commercial traffic had practically ground to a halt by the 60s as road/rail haulage reigned supreme and the waterway was officially shut in 1963. The cost of maintaining locks and bridges exceeded the income. A motorway was subsequently built over the derelict canal - severing it in two. As I left Linlithgow I looked back and saw the palace in the distance. In 1424, the town was partially destroyed in a great fire. King James I sanctioned the rebuilding of the palace as a grand residence for Scottish royalty. Over the following century, it developed into a formal courtyard structure, with significant additions by James III and James IV. In 1512, the first crown prince was born in Linlithgow and - surprise, surprise - was also christened James. He commissioned the outer gateway and elaborate courtyard fountain. His daughter Mary (future Queen of Scots) resided periodically in Linlithgow during her ill-fated reign. After the Union of the Crowns in 1603, when James VI of Scotland was proclaimed James I of England, the palace was little used in a royal capacity and eventually suffered serious damage following the Jacobite Rebellion of 1745. The ruins have been actively conserved since the early 19th century and the building is today in the care of Historic Scotland. I have visited a couple of times and the walk around Linlithgow Loch offers great free views of this ancient seat of power. As I glanced across the water, I observed a far more modern installation - a pumpkin farm. A large field had been transformed into a sea of orange. I must admit I'm not a fan of the creeping Americanisation of Halloween and still religiously carve my tumshie lantern at the end of October. As I ambled along, I spotted something stirring in a bush and reached for my camera. It turned out to be a blackbird feasting on red berries. A fairly common sight, but I managed to capture the bird with its juicy snack in its beak. One of my best ever wildlife photos! The more you click, the greater the chance of a prize image.

I passed through gently undulating agricultural landscape with the roar of the M9 ever present, although sometimes the folds of the fields cleverly concealed the motorway. I reached the (unfortunately closed) Burger Barn and an information board told me this now green area was once a hive of industrial activity and covered in rail tracks and tramways. It's not well known today outside the local area, but West Lothian was the birthplace of the shale oil boom. It all began in the 1860s when James "Paraffin" Young opened a plant in Broxburn that refined oilshale - a black mineral found below the surface in West Lothian as well as in parts of Midlothian and Fife. This venture superseded his earlier (and highly successful) extraction of oil from local coal, which had begun a decade earlier in Bathgate. For the remainder of the 19th century and a couple of decades into the 20th, shale oil production dominated the West Lothian industrial landscape. Not every oilworks proved financially viable and the sole Fife operation near Burntisland lasted just a handful of years. Links to cheap Persian crude oil were established after WW1 and thus began a slow decline of the domestic output. Things were looking bleak by the 1930s but the outbreak of the second world war provided an unexpected stay of execution for the Scottish oil scene. Government subsidies poured in to sustain a steady supply of fuel during the conflict. This couldn't continue long term and the final shale plant ceased operation in 1962. Very obvious traces remain on the West Lothian landscape and the county is dotted with spoil heaps, or bings. Fife too was covered in waste from the coal mining industry but this has virtually all been flattened and cleaned up. The approach across the water has been somewhat different, with various bings awarded protected status and in the case of the Five Sisters in West Calder - even designated as a National Monument. Wildlife now thrives in these once-scarred areas and they often provide waking trails for the general public. Some of these shale mounds do remain off-limits however. As I skirted the village of Philpstoun, I walked around the foot of a towering bing and signs warned people not to climb. Motocross riders were also threatened with having their bikes confiscated and crushed if they tried to navigate the slopes. Post-industrial landscapes act as a magnet for this type of activity. As I pushed on towards the next village of Winchburgh, I decided my walk would end there. The legs were wearying and I didn't fancy a climb up the accessible bing overlooking this place. I could make a nice little circuit out of that another time.

My phone pinged as I followed the towpath, informing me two of my postcards had arrived in America and Russia. This meant a couple of cards would wing their way back to me through the Postcrossing website. My new hobby mixes old and new methods of communication and I am steadily building up a collection of correspondence from around the globe. I finally made it to Winchburgh and left the canal. There seemed to be a development project around an old pool, perhaps the remains of a quarry. Someone had taken a felt-tipped pen to the noticeboard outlining the plans and had dutifully altered the name of the site to what seemed to be a local alternative. Obviously his sensibilities had been offended! I just missed a bus back to Linlithgow as I emerged on to the main street but another was due in 20 minutes. A local lady confirmed the timings and then proceeded to talk about herself, and then added some more about herself. It amuses me how some folk would happily relate their life stories to a complete stranger while never enquiring about the circumstances of their new-found conversation partner. I did point out my knowledge of local buses was non existent as I had come over from Fife for the day. This elicited no further investigation of that theme and she then went back to babbling about her family. Mrs Whoever-you-were, it sure was nice talking to you. A bus ride back to my starting point allowed me to take the weight of my feet. I knew I still had an ascent to tackle back up to the canal route. I popped into a newsagents to buy a few postcards and hence let someone in a far-flung land see an image of this old royal stronghold. I thought I might as well grab a few stamps from the Post Office and was surprised to see this facility now housed within a tiny serving station in the corner of a grocery store. Changed days indeed! The town would surely have had a busy Crown Office in the past - rather like the one my Mum ran in Lochgelly. I drove home for dinner and to pack for the trip to Dumfries the following day. This whole canal traipse began in Bowling, Dunbartonshire, sometime in 2016. As stated in the opening paragraph, I took advantage of the yoga weekends in Glasgow to undertake a few walking journeys and make use of the excellent railway system in these parts. I dropped Nicole off at her studio for 9am, left the car nearby and walked into the city centre, which took around 25 minutes. A train from Queen Street whisked me along the Clyde to Bowling.

The station is practically next door to the canal basin and I had a pleasant wander around, reading the literature about the 35-mile waterway. Then I was off! A pair of swans posed for some pics and I soon noticed the very obvious evidence of a railway paralleling my route. Below the level of the canal I spotted the remains of a station. This was Old Kilpatrick on the Lanarkshire & Dunbartonshire Railway - closed in 1964. The Erskine Road Bridge was looming into view and I passed below the supports. An information pillar marked the point where a ferry service crossed the Clyde. This was rendered obsolete by the opening of the bridge in 1971. Old Kilpatrick Station would have served the pier. The ferry crossing was established in 1868 and linked up the densely populated parts of Renfrewshire and Dunbartonshire which sat on opposite sides of the estuary. Nowadays, cars whizz over the quarter-mile cable-stayed bridge which required a toll until 2006 (along with the Forth and Tay crossings). Thankfully these charges have been abolished and our major bridges are now considered part of the everyday road network. The dismantled railway I was tracking was doomed as soon as Lord Beeching cast his eye along the Clyde. It basically duplicated the extant route between Glasgow and Dumbarton. I took some pictures of the bridge and also spied a few rotting hulks within the tidal zone of the river. They may be part of the dredging fleet that increased the depth of the Clyde during the 19th century. This allowed large vessels to approach the centre of Glasgow rather than dock several miles downstream at Greenock or Port Glasgow. It's harrowing to think ships involved in the triangular slave trade would have unloaded cargo in this area. It's something many Scots don't like to think about but we were right up to our necks in this vile practice. Blaming this one on the English doesn't wash and it certainly challenges the notion of our countryfolk seeing everyone as Jock Tamson's bairns.

The approximate halfway stage was the industrial town of Clydebank, once famous for its shipyards and the massive Singer sewing machine factory. The latter closed in 1980 and still has a railway station named after it. Clydebank suffered heavy bomb damage during WW2 as the Luftwaffe sought to disrupt the docklands as well as target the Singer works which was now producing weaponry. The canal ran right past a new shopping centre and I popped in for a bite to eat. A barge advertised itself as Scotland's only floating fish and chips restaurant. An interesting engineering spectacle was a dropped lock, allowing boats to pass below a road that had been built over the canal during the years of closure. Apparently the only such example in Europe. The landscape from now on was increasingly urban and it wasn't long until I approached the fringes of Glasgow with the first tower blocks visible. Several standard locks were also encountered. They of course raise or lower boats to a different level and sometimes a flight of locks is required to cope with a sharp change in elevation. The waterway is carried across the River Kelvin by an aqueduct standing 60 feet tall. It was the last piece of the jigsaw to be completed, opening in 1790. Locals marvelled at the sight of ocean-going vessels passing high above their heads. It was at this point I planned to leave the towpath and follow a small stretch of the Kelvin Walkway towards the botanic gardens. I filled in the short distance to Maryhill Basin and decided this would be my starting point for the next stage. As I took the Kelvin path into the city, I noticed evidence of abandoned railways including viaduct piers in the river and a bricked-up tunnel portal on the opposite bank. I arrived on Great Western Road and after 9 miles on foot, decided to let the subway take me as far as the Bridge Street stop, from where it was just over a mile back to the yoga centre. My next visit saw me take a local train to Maryhill Station and I picked up the canal trail where I left off. I'm reviewing these walks from memory and it's certainly handy having my pictorial reports on Facebook to remind me of the highlights. I set out on a seven and a half mile wander to the Dunbartonshire town of Kirkintilloch and planned to return by train from nearby Lenzie on the main line.

As I took to the towpath, I quickly reached Stockingfield Junction where the city centre branch splits off. This hugely increased the commercial viability of the canal for obvious reasons. The offshoot would have to wait for another day and I continued along the main route. The canal was built from east to west but I was walking the other way. Did this mean I was doing it in reverse? As I reached the outskirts of Glasgow, I passed a viewpoint looking into Possil Marsh Nature Reserve. I followed the wooden boardwalk and gazed over the shallow freshwater loch surrounded by marsh, swamp and fen, with areas of willow scrub and grassland. The reserve supports rare plants and is an important staging post during the spring and autumn migration for warblers and waterfowl. I turned back to the towpath and saw a heron sitting high in a tree, cursing myself that I'd only brought my puny mobile phone camera. I didn't even own an iPhone at this stage. Canals are of course a haven for birdlife and it's a common misconception that the water is stagnant. The system is engineered with inflow and outflow in mind. It was a pleasant walk to Kirkintilloch and I emerged on to the main street. I quickly found a chip shop, then headed to the only real ale show in town - the Kirky Puffer. Owned by Wetherspoons and named after the small steamboats that plied their trade up and down the canal, this was the perfect place to relax with a couple of pints. The Luggie Aqueduct at Kirkintilloch is also known as the Unique Bridge. The canal passed high above while the railway ran below and the river flowed under both. As the trains here last called in the 1960s, I opted to walk the mile and a half to the neighbouring town of Lenzie. From here, the main line whisked me back to Glasgow. Another stage complete. My next trek also took place on a yoga weekend but this time we were staying in Milngavie, Dunbartonshire. This was a separate instruction course from the regular monthly schedule. We arrived at 9am on a Saturday and my itinerary involved taking the bus to Kirkintilloch then walking to Kilsyth and back. Five miles each way. After a night in the hotel, I planned to spend Sunday doing the Kelvin Walkway to Maryhill then follow the canal spur to the middle of Glasgow. Ten miles in total. I would certainly clock up plenty distance this weekend which would be a major boost for my 1000 miles challenge (I successfully completed this within the year).

This stretch was quiet and rural with the Campsie Fells rising in the distance behind a curtain of mist. I maintained a brisk pace as I wanted to factor in a good hour or so to refresh myself at the Kirky Puffer when I returned. I wouldn't actually be entering Kilsyth as the town lay on the other side of the River Kelvin (in Stirlingshire) and I would be turning around at Auchinstarry Basin. Curiously, historic Dunbartonshire has a large exclave containing the parishes of Kirkintilloch and Cumbernauld. It was fairly common for little bits of counties to exist wholly within others but this was legally dealt with in 1890. Somehow this chunk of Dunbartonshire escaped untouched and I think the only other remaining example of a county cut in two is Flintshire in North Wales. For modern local government purposes, the detached part of Dunbartonshire seems to have been split between the Council Areas of North Lanarkshire and East Dunbartonshire. The former has also absorbed the part of historic Stirlingshire where Kilsyth is situated. The campaign group ABC (Association of British Counties) has absolutely no problem with administrative areas not aligning with historic boundaries but takes a dim view of traditional shire names being thrown into the local government pot in cases where they clearly don't correspond. After a short pause at Auchinstarry I headed back to Kirkintilloch and found myself being dragged back towards the Puffer by some unseen force. Back in Milngavie, I noted the starting point of the West Highland Way at the railway station and wondered if I'll ever do this famous route. I met up with Nicole, we booked into our hotel and had dinner at a pub down the road where ales were served. Next morning I was bright eyed and bushy tailed, eager to hit the Kelvin Walkway and stride all the way to Glasgow. I picked up the trail and soon passed Murray Park - training headquarters of Rangers FC. I managed to squint through a gap in the fence for a look at the impressive complex. The site covers almost 40 acres and has separate areas for senior and youth players. Each suite has its own reception, dining area, changing rooms, kit store and lecture room. Shared facilities include the gym, medical suite and indoor synthetic pitch. Outdoors there are six full pitches along with two half-sized. Two of the larger playing surfaces have undersoil heating and are used exclusively by the first team.

The path ran alongside the Allander Water - a tributary of the Kelvin - for the first couple of miles. It has to be said that for such a well-publicised route, the Kelvin Walkway could do with a bit of care and maintenance. Wooden staircases are rotting away and the going is uneven in places. At no point is it dangerous but it's certainly not a leisurely stroll. I was soon out in open countryside and I spotted an abandoned railway. The river meandered quietly and I watched a swan stare at its own reflection in the water. It was hard to believe Scotland's largest city lay just a few miles distant. After skirting Glasgow Golf Club, things became a little vague. I knew the official path left the Kelvin for a while as the river wound through an industrial park and university grounds. Somehow I ended up following a narrow track along the bank behind the factory units and it didn't seem like I was going the right way. Nevertheless there were people fishing and I was following the river downstream so I would surely hook back up with the proper pathway. These hopes were dashed when I met a road bridge that blocked my progress. I had no option but to backtrack and take it from there. To keep things simple, I navigated towards Maryhill Road as I knew this street would bring me to the canal basin from where I could easily locate the next stage of my expedition - the canal branch into the city centre. The towpath passed residential properties that now enjoyed a highly desirable view as opposed to the junk-filled trench that decayed over decades. I walked right past Firhill Park - home of Partick Thistle FC - enjoying a good view inside the stadium. For some reason I picked this team out of my Panini sticker album in the early 80s and decided to support them. I remember writing a letter to the club and receiving player autographs in return. To this day I retain a soft spot for the Jags. The waterway ended at Spiers Wharf where refurbished tenements and small businesses surrounded the picturesque dock. At the end of the towpath, I could look down upon the throbbing M8 which runs right through the heart of Glasgow. I made my way down the steps and located Cowcaddens subway station, from where I travelled to Partick interchange. I then caught a regular train back to Milngavie.

I wanted to visit the remains of the Roman baths in Bearsden and my original plan was to get off the train at Hillfoot Station, just a quarter mile from the site. However my legs were weary and I didn't fancy this option (plus the mile and a half back to Milngavie). I decided instead to return to base and take the car. The Bearsden bath house is one of the best examples of a stone structure on the course of the Antonine Wall. The layout of the pools and latrines could clearly be seen and there were helpful information points detailing the excavation, along with artists impressions of what the place probably looked like almost 2000 years ago. A great weekend's walking was now complete. On my next trek I would visit the Falkirk Wheel, the world's first and only rotating boat lift that transfers craft between the Union Canal and the Forth & Clyde. Opened in 2002, it is now one of Scotland's most popular visitor attractions, being easily accessible from anywhere in the Central Belt. I set out early in the car as I had 11 miles to cover today. It didn't take long to reach Kilsyth - ably assisted by the motorway network - and I drove through the town and parked at Auchinstarry Basin. It was threatening to rain and I hung around to see what the weather would do. I noticed several signed walks, some involving Roman remains and I'll need to investigate those one day. I decided to simply bash on and thankfully the downpour never came. The first section of canal was dead straight and I detected a white shape coming towards me from the distance. I soon realised it was a solo swan skimming low above the water. My hand instinctively moved towards my camera bag but there was insufficient time to set up a shot. I stood and watched the big bird speed gracefully past with slow flapping action. I reached the M80 underpass - a new piece of engineering as the road had originally been constructed on top of the canal. I passed through the town of Bonnybridge and discovered an unexpected piece of history upon descending from the embankment to buy myself a drink. The Scottish Insurrection of 1820 (also known as the Radical War) was a period of strikes and civil unrest across central Scotland. Around 40 militants - led by John Baird - headed for Carron Ironworks near Falkirk in an attempt to procure weapons. It was the largest foundry in Europe and the main source of artillery pieces for the army and navy. While Baird and his men were resting on a hill near Bonnybridge, a detachment of troops from the 10th Hussars and Stirlingshire Yeomanry attacked with a sabre charge. Baird quickly realised this was a fight they could not win and the radicals surrendered. Baird, along with accomplices Andrew Hardie and James Wilson were sentenced to death, the former two publicly (and gruesomely) at Stirling Castle.

The story was relayed on a board beside a tunnel under the canal. Apparently the captured men were marched through here en route to Stirling jail. There are theories saying government agents deliberately helped foment unrest in order to bring the traitors out into the open. It was certainly an interesting tale and a period of Scottish history I had previously known nothing about. As ever, a long walk across new terrain is always an educational experience. The sheer scale of the Falkirk Wheel is a sight to behold and the mechanism raises boats 80 feet in the air while another gradually descends. So finely counterbalanced is the operation that just the power of eight domestic kettles is required to nudge the gears into action. The wheel replaces a flight of 11 locks that previously took the best part of a day to negotiate. They closed way back in 1933 which shows the extent to which road transport had abstracted trade from the canal network, aided in no small part by large numbers of surplus army lorries flooding the open market following the end of the Great War. Thus the Union Canal ceased carrying commercial traffic three decades before its final closure in 1965. Some basic restoration was attempted in the 90s before the eventual full reopening at the turn of the millennium. I watched the wheel in action and explored the exhibition inside the visitors centre. From this point onwards, I would take the Union Canal towpath and the remaining portion of the Forth & Clyde would be filled in another time. I made my way up to Union level and was able to look along the aqueduct leading to the boat lift. On the way I walked past the Kelpie maquettes (pictured above) - the scale models of the famous sculptures that stand proudly at the end of the Forth & Clyde Canal. The mini kelps are often taken on tour and have appeared all over the world. I also happened to catch them at St Andrews. Purely chance that the little horses were in close proximity to their big brothers today. As I turned around I was faced with a 200-yard tunnel which also forms part of the Falkirk Wheel complex. Being a new-build underneath a railway, it was airy and well lit. There was plenty of room on the towpath. Beyond the tunnel lay a pair of locks and I stood and watched a boat being floated upwards. Not as interesting as it sounds! I was soon approaching Falkirk town and caught sight of a beefy bullfinch sitting on a branch ahead. I was able to take excellent close-up pictures of this wonderful bird. They don't tend to move much! I then paralleled the railway and it struck me how the waterway and iron road often occupy the same general territory. This makes sense as they both require the path of least resistance in terms of gradient. Also interesting to note the term "navvy" was originally applied to the men who dug the canals. Short for navigator.

My jumping-off point today was close to the portal of Falkirk Tunnel. Of course I couldn't resist peering into the darkness before leaving the canal and walking the short distance to Falkirk High railway station on the main Edinburgh to Glasgow line. I disembarked at Croy - a commuter halt with a huge park & ride attached. From here it was a mile back to Auchinstarry Basin. Nine miles lay ahead of me on the next leg to Linlithgow. I sank a pint of Banana Bread Bitter in a Falkirk Wetherspoons before locating the towpath. I knew I wouldn't be driving for a good few hours yet. I had the whole day at my disposal and was in no particular rush. When researching the canal project, I had wondered why the thick blue line on the map vanished in the middle of Falkirk. The reason of course was the existence of the 700-yard tunnel under the town's main streets. Completed in 1822 (the year the Union Canal opened), the abyss was originally lit with oil lamps. It must have been a murky place and even today's LED illumination has sought to preserve the gloom. Bizarrely, the Visit Falkirk website describes the engineering as Victorian despite the fact the legendary monarch was a toddler at this point and wouldn't ascend to the throne until 1837. During the tunnel's construction, two Irishmen by the names of Burke and Hare were employed as labourers. I wonder what they subsequently got up to? I emerged into a sunny cutting at the other end spanned by several stone overbridges. I was soon in rural territory but the rather grim surroundings of Polmont Young Offenders Institution dispelled the bucolic nature of my stroll. The towpath ran directly alongside the high concrete walls. I was looking forward to crossing the 12-arch Avon Aqueduct which takes the walker from Stirlingshire into West Lothian and crosses the river at a height of 86 feet. Before I reached this bridge, I spotted a crumbling structure to my left, maybe 200 yards distant. I stuck resolutely to the towpath on the day but later discovered I'd seen the remains of Almond Castle. Originally known as Haining Castle, this tower house dates from the 1500s and changed hands several times before being forfeited to the Crown following the Jacobite uprising of 1715. The owners had backed the wrong side! The building fell into ruin and was described in an 1892 guide as standing "in the middle of a cultivated field"

I did return for a closer inspection at a later date. In fact this outing was documented on an early blog post. Worth a read as I also explored a couple of abandoned mansions in the immediate vicinity. At some point the castle became surrounded by a huge brickworks which has now been completely flattened. It is indeed curious to view a historically important building standing forlornly on a vast expanse of industrial wasteland. How long before the developers move in? If you do happen to check out the castle, be mindful of the very poor condition of the stonework. The phrase "enter at your own risk" certainly does apply! Onwards to the aqueduct. It was a long way down to the valley floor and a sign advises cyclists to dismount and push. Construction was completed by 1821 to a design by Hugh Baird, with additional input from the legendary Thomas Telford. The structure is A-listed and I simply had to take the path down towards the river for a worm's eye-view of the towering span. The top of the aqueduct provides a great view of the nearby Avon Viaduct. This has 23 arches and carries the Edinburgh to Glasgow railway. It opened in 1842 and I resolved to formulate a walk between the two stunning structures. This has since been done and entered for posterity on the blog under the (in hindsight rather naff) title of Duct Traipse. Go read all about it! Back on the towpath, I could make out the Linlithgow skyline and was soon in the centre of town. Which is where this article came in. Wait a minute, I hear you say. What about the missing section from the Falkirk Wheel to the Firth of Forth? I duly completed this four and a half mile stage with my sister Linda. Shoosh, don't tell anyone, but we did this walk from east to west as free parking is available near the Kelpies. After viewing the magnificent metallic beasts, we followed the canal towards the Falkirk Wheel. Some maintenance work was in progress, reminding us that canals do require looking after. We passed the ground of Camelon Football Club and the terrain was a mix of residential, industrial and semi-rural. At the Falkirk Wheel visitors centre we enjoyed a drink and snack in the café. We did the route in reverse back to the car and it's surprisingly easy to clock up canal miles as you're always on the level.

There was one tiny piece of the puzzle remaining. The Forth & Clyde Canal originally ended at a sea lock on the mouth of the River Carron. A stone's throw from where the Kelpies stand. This caused navigation issues as a couple of road bridges had to be negotiated amid the swirling currents. A new half-mile link to the Forth was named the Queen Elizabeth Canal and opened by Her Majesty in 2017. A fully accessible historical walk forms part of the project. Styled the Charlotte Dundas Trail, information boards are spaced at regular intervals along the towpath. They convey the story of the world's first practical commercial steamship, built by William Symington around these parts. The industrial history of Falkirk and Grangemouth is woven into the story. The Charlotte Dundas suffered from numerous technical problems and was ultimately not a success as a canal-going vessel. We must however take a wider view and realise these pioneering efforts are absolutely essential in the development of new technologies. Somebody has to have the initial vision and make mistakes before others can learn. I explored the trail at the end of a day's heritage walking around the Grangemouth and Bo'ness area. The sun shone brightly and there were even bikini-clad girls swimming in the Queen's canal. A family of ducklings also swam by. I returned with my father a year later and he fully road-tested the trail on his mobility scooter. Thumbs up was the verdict. I began this post by describing a stage I'd done while the country was emerging from lockdown. After a spell of getting used to our increased freedoms...wham! Corona took full advantage of this movement and mixing of people and once again raged through the population. Thus ensued a fresh order to stay at home after Christmas 2020. Many more weeks working from home and not venturing more than a few miles from base. New hope emerged in the form of a vaccine. Half the country has been inoculated and I'm due my shot in a couple of days.

In April 2021 we were officially permitted to travel outside our Council Area and I made a quick dash over the Forth one sunny spring evening while Nicole was recording an interview video (and didn't want me distracting her). I knew I could be in Winchburgh in less than half an hour and that I'd get a few miles in before dusk descended. The photo prospects looked good too! I'd already sketched out this stage as a two and three quarter mile stroll to Broxburn with the return journey most likely being done on foot. The canal runs by Greendykes Bing - the major relic from the shale mining industry - and naturally I fancied going up there. Niddry Castle was also somewhere in the vicinity. Would I manage all this on a short-notice expedition which involved setting out on the the towpath after 7pm? Probably not, but I would squeeze in whatever I could. The walk began in a cutting festooned with budding wild garlic and the aroma was unmistakable. I strolled into the evening sunshine and immediately spotted Niddry Castle, easily close enough to photograph without seriously extending the zoom lens (although I had to carefully select an angle to avoid power lines running across the shot. The classic tower house was constructed around 1500 and gave refuge to Mary Queen of Scots as she fled from captivity in Loch Leven Castle. Niddry was restored as a private residence in the 1990s and is a grade-A listed building. On the canal, a female mallard was out for a swim with her ducklings. I almost had to jog to keep up with them. They don't half move! I managed to take a few close-up pictures. When reporting on gritty mining landscapes, a bit of cuteness helps balance things out! The castle stands beside a slag heap named Niddry Bing. Many of these mounds from the shale mining industry (which ended in the early 60s) are dotted around West Lothian. The firm and non-toxic nature of the material meant there was no pressing need for them to be removed from an environmental or health & safety point of view. Today they have integrated into the surrounding landscape, in fact providing a bit of elevation on otherwise flat terrain which arouses my climbing instincts. Speaking of which, I came across an e-book about "bing bagging" in Scotland. I'll have to get a copy of that! A fiver from the Kindle store. That's an advantage of the digital reading revolution. You can take a punt on self-published fare without any significant outlay. Meanwhile the author earns money from each sale without going through expensive printing and distribution channels. As they say - everybody wins. At least that's the theory.

I battered on along the towpath and reached the point where Greendykes Bing loomed close on the opposite bank and an old bridge offered easy access across the water. The light was still good and I decided to scale the old spoil heap. The red-hued ash gave the distinct impression of a Martian landscape. I picked my my to the top and was rewarded with amazing views across the surrounding flat terrain. The lengthy viaduct on the Edinburgh to Glasgow railway was readily identifiable. I tramped across the plateau surface making full use of this vantage point for all points of the compass. I found a more direct route back down and was soon on the towpath walking briskly in the return direction. I made it to Winchburgh with a bit of daylight to spare. The next leg I completed was from Broxburn to Ratho - a round trip of 9 miles. I set off on a pleasant spring morning and picked up the path from where I had left off. The section of towpath between Winchburgh and Ratho is designated the Shale Trail, in homage to the industrial activities of the past. QR codes were placed at information points which - once scanned - would reveal a more detailed history. I find myself using the smartphone for an increasing number of tasks. I always said I would never create a digital shopping list but that taboo was recently broken. I passed an old walled garden as I approached the Ratho Bridge Inn, my point for turning around. The radio and headphones were switched on for the return leg as I was retracing familiar ground and I could afford to be less alert of my surroundings - just one of my little personal rules of walking. I was now within 8 miles of the canal terminus at Lochrin Basin. One final assault to go. It posed a little logistical puzzle as public transport links between Ratho and the centre of Edinburgh were - surprisingly - not great. Interesting how you find these dead spots and missing links amid what appears to be a bustling system. The canal did pass by a couple of train stations en route to Lochrin but I wanted to complete the project in one fell swoop and reach the basin without having to backtrack at any point. The solution was to combine the walk with the Edinburgh German meet-up. I would take the towpath into the city, make my way to the gathering and then travel home by bus in the usual manner. That still left the issue of getting to the start point in Ratho. I knew the airport bus served a place called Ratho Station. This proved to be a mile and a half from the canal and was close enough to simply add on to the day's walk. I arrived at Ratho bridge and began my final waterside trek. After a pleasant rural section, I met the Edinburgh Bypass and crossed the carriageways on a flyover.

The A720 ring road was built in stages during the 1980s but is now at bursting point. It's easy to say we should throw money at the problem and create new lanes. However, you could easily find yourself in the position where - after spending billions - the extra capacity is maxed out due to the upgraded highway attracting more cars. Like trying to square a circle. I found this sculpture (pictured) very interesting as it charts the major transport innovations in the area - bookended by the canal's initial opening and it's 21st-century regeneration. I reached the fringes of Edinburgh and was soon wandering through the peripheral housing estate of Wester Hailes. I heard quite a few foreign voices chattering. The make-up of these schemes has obviously changed quite a bit since the 1980s, when the high-rise flats of Edinburgh didn't enjoy the most positive reputation. The area seems to have been spruced up and I think a concerted effort is now made by local authorities to provide education and leisure facilities in the concrete jungles of yore. I'm no social scientist but I remember learning at high school about the folly of shipping large numbers of people out of city centres and placing them in an environment that lacked obvious community focal points. I did learn a fascinating piece of local history as I passed through Wester Hailes. When the scheme was constructed in the post-war period, the canal had more or less been abandoned and was in a sorry state. Inland waterways were regarded as having no viable future and it was decided to culvert this section below concrete. There it remained for the next few decades. Come the millennium, and the decision to re-open the entire Union Canal, a major excavation was required in Wester Hailes. While the erection of the Falkirk Wheel grabbed the headlines, the less glamorous (but ultimately more expensive) business of pneumatic drills on the ground hammered away in the background. As with all costly public building projects, questions arise regarding value for money and whether the resources could be put to better use elsewhere. There was a great quote on one of the information boards which queried the value of restoring the canal in Wester Hailes. Would it turn out to be another location for locals to "dump old shopping trolleys"? Harsh - but no doubt sprinkled with a few grains of truth. That said, I didn't encounter any debris as I exited the estate and approached older parts of Edinburgh. The Slateford Aqueduct loomed into view and the 8-arch structure runs to a length of 165 yards. Completed in 1822, it carries the canal over the Water of Leith.

Interestingly, a railway viaduct runs parallel to the aqueduct. I had anticipated a good photo opportunity but this proved problematic. The proximity of the bridges to each other made it difficult to squeeze both into the frame. An industrial yard occupied the space in the middle and I wasn't able to compose an attractive shot. Further on, the canal was a hive of activity with teams of rowers being put through their paces in a training session. It has often struck me that these new cleaned-up waterways attract scores of walkers and cyclists but you don't see many boats. The occasional one chugs by but you're far more likely to see a moored barge. Which brings us back to the whole question of value. Not that I'm complaining personally! New properties have sprung up alongside the canal at various points. I should imagine they command a premium price. Other, older houses now have a piece of tranquillity at the bottom of the garden rather than the overgrown wasteland of not so long ago. As I reached the area of Edinburgh known as Fountainbridge, the watercourse was flanked on both sides by rows of traditional tenements. This would very much have been a working-class scene in the old days. Particularly as I was reaching the end point of Lochrin Basin where freight was loaded and taken off. Parts of that industrial heritage have been preserved but the focus nowadays is upon leisure, alongside plush office suites and apartments. Down the road is Fountain Park which features a cinema complex, bowling alley, restaurants and other facilities. I used to take a train over to Edinburgh every Friday after work and see a couple of films here. I had the Cineworld Unlimited card which enabled me to watch as many movies as I liked for a fixed monthly fee. The pass very quickly paid for itself and I certainly clocked up the movies, sometimes heading across during the week for a screening or two. Film-going was certainly a passion of mine. These days I rely on my postal DVD club and the bulk of my spare time is occupied by walking. It's funny how you move through different spheres of interest over the years. I can honestly say I've never been happier than when exploring the outdoors on my own two feet. I can't see this changing in the near future. One day I'll slow down of course. Perhaps then I'll make a bee-line for the pictures again, if the concept even exists!

My mission was complete and I grabbed a bite to eat from the Co-op and sat down for a well-earned rest. The German meet-up was a mile distant and due to be held in a beer garden with strict social distancing measures in place. But a step in the right direction! I felt immensely proud of having completed the canal system across Central Scotland. The level gradient enables you to eat up the miles and also makes the paths accessible to a wider range of people. I learned an extraordinary amount of history along the way and wildlife made regular appearances. It's fantastic to see so many formal trails being established and access rights are now firmly on the side of the individual, rather than those who own vast tracts of Scotland. The Union and Forth & Clyde Canals were the industrial arteries of their day and a vital part of our heritage. They struggled to find a purpose as the 20th century wore on, but refused to die. Now reborn as blue and green corridors, may they thrive and prosper!