Lockdown had finally been relaxed to the point where it was permissible to travel more than five miles for leisure purposes. Although I had done my fair share of exploring the far corners of my home turf - making some interesting discoveries and lumping them together in one ever-lengthening blog post - I was finally breaking free of the Covid straitjacket. Today I headed right to the Fife boundary to seek out a couple of old agricultural relics.
The West Fife Cycle Way starts in Dunfermline and continues to Clackmannan, a distance of around 11 miles. It follows the route of the old railway which ran from Dunfermline to Stirling. This line was closed to passengers in 1968 and the tracks were finally lifted in 1987, when coal traffic ceased. The section from Alloa to Stirling has since been reopened and through services provided to Glasgow. Around a mile past the remains of Bogside Station (signal box still intact and pictured above), the path becomes part of the Clackmannanshire cycle network. Right on the county boundary stands a dilapidated railway cottage. Old maps indicate a loading bank was previous located here - probably for the adjacent Brucefield Estate. The cottage was one of the first derelict properties I ever explored and I stuck my nose in one day while passing by. The place had only been empty for at most a couple of years, a fact I determined by finding an eye-test reminder addressed to the occupant. Decay had already set in and rainwater was leaking through the roof as I roamed around. Abandoned houses obviously attract vandals, especially properties shielded from view and not in the middle of nowhere. There was already evidence of damage and you have to wonder who does this? Thieves looking for copper or lead? Kids cycling a few miles from the nearest town to go on a smash-it-up spree? Surely adults don't rock up in cars purely to kick the place in? Then again, you can never be sure about some people's mindset.
I liked this curious storage unit. The compartments are labelled shirts, pyjamas, underwear and (that catch-all term) sundries. Real wood too. It's quirky finds like this that make an explore memorable, rather than standard kitchen fittings or broken bathtubs. After a good rummage around, I headed on my way but pondered the reasons for the house being left to rot. It surely can't belong to the estate as they would either install a new tenant or secure the building. If it was owner occupied then did the lady whose name I saw on the letter not bequeath the cottage to a family member? I believe a person's assets pass to the Crown if the individual dies intestate and no living relatives can be traced. If this were the case, would it not be prudent to brick up all external doors and windows? After all, even a semi-habitable property is worth far more than a wrecked shell. Perhaps someone did inherit the home but had little interest due to living far away or being faced with hefty modernisation costs? Even so, would you not look for a builder to take it off your hands in return for some cash? A little mystery as a detached cottage in a semi-rural location is usually an attractive proposition. We're not talking about a vast crumbling old country house that would cost a fortune to heat, never mind repair. Anyway, I pulled into the small car-park a stone's throw away from the cottage but today I had another couple of targets in mind. I had found out about the existence of a disused corn mill and a ruined farm in the vicinity. They lay on opposite sides of the Bluther Burn - which divides Fife and Clacks in this area - and a crossing would therefore be required. According to OS maps, the mill was located next to Hartshaw Farm and I wandered up for a look-see. There was a lot of renovation work going on and I said hello to a couple of workers who were laying cables. It looked as if this farmstead was presently unoccupied and I suppose I could have strolled in and shouted to a workman I just wanted to quickly check out an old building. Then again, part of the buzz is approaching these places (hopefully) unseen. Moreover, if the guys had objected to my presence what would I do then? No, I decided upon a covert operation and - if challenged - would say I'm just taking a few pictures then offer to depart quietly.
I slipped into a large empty field where the grass was waist high. As I made my way to the far corner, the cycle path was running close by and I decided to tackle the old farm first. I knew it lay on a straight course from a bridge over the old railway and it would be easy enough to locate this structure. I entered well-maintained pasture land and could see the stone parapets - the crossing obviously designed for agricultural access. No livestock was present and I headed into the trees lining the Bluther Burn and hoped I wouldn't have to wade across. I knew the name of farm was Horsehead and had previously seen pictures on Facebook. Someone posted more information in the form of an extract from the Ordnance Survey place names book for Perthshire, a reminder that the parishes of Culross and Tulliallan - which today form the western extremity of Fife - were at one time a detached part of the Big County. Horsehead was described as a small arable farm with a farmhouse, garden and a few offices. Fortuitously a branch overhung a narrow neck of the stream enabling me to perform a mini-Tarzan maneouvre and hit the opposite bank with barely a splash. A footbridge existed in the past but it has long since been dismantled. Hard part over, or so I thought. The vegetation was thick and impassable in places. I would have to use dead reckoning to locate the farmstead but after a few minutes I stumbled across the crumbling walls.
The basic outline of the place was discernible and interesting from a photography point of view. This was an abandoned location in the truest sense of the word and few people will venture out here. Not a single piece of graffiti in sight, nor any discarded beer cans. A place once inhabited but now at peace with nature. Nice to experience, completely hidden from sight. I now had to figure a way towards the mill although that meant crossing the burn again. I could of course have backtracked but decided it would be quicker to remain within earshot of the water and hopefully find an alternative route. My theory was largely successful and Umap suggested there was a handy footbridge I could use. I did indeed find this location but again I encountered construction activity. I would surely be seen if I stepped into the open and crossed over. A tactical withdrawal was required and I scouted the banks for a suitable place to negotiate the burn, opting for a spot where I reckoned I could easily leap on to a gravel patch and haul myself up by the available roots and branches. Amazingly, I succeeded. It was then plain sailing towards the mill under the cover of dense bushes and trees. I did manage to snag my walking trousers on barbed wire and being of thin material, they tore easily. Not to worry, they could be recycled as gardening garb.
The exterior of the mill looked to be in fine condition considering it was already labelled as disused on maps surveyed in the late 19th century. The stone channel where water diverted from the Bluther Burn would have provided power was still in existence. Marks on the wall traced the outline of the actual wheel. The ground floor door was unlocked and I entered discretely. A few pieces of wooden furniture were lying around, so clearly the building had some purpose after the mill stopped grinding. Several props had been installed to support the upper floor which suggests the owners don't want the interior space to collapse. A flight of stone steps - bereft of any banister - led to the upper level. They were covered in a layer of weeds but felt rock solid underfoot and I ascended to push open the door. There wasn't a great deal to see other than an empty room and I resisted the temptation to walk across the flooring as the underpinning below might not have been constructed with the idea of supporting the weight of explorers. Perhaps a case of simply holding the ceiling up. The mill was certainly a good find and hopefully more substantial restoration work can be carried out one day. A few quid could be earned by renting it to the producers of Outlander!
I backtracked to the car, satisfied with my findings. It had been tough going in places but good to blow the cobwebs away and get back out there. As I drove off, I crossed over the railway and passed Slack Cottage - currently undergoing serious renovation. One property being improved while another round the corner was subject to decay. The path to the fabled Maggie Duncan's Stone runs alongside Slack Cottage and it was quite a task last winter to locate the massive boulder. My final port of call today was a little further along the A907, where an abandoned lodge stands close to the roadside. This was another one of my early urbex missions and the building had previously functioned as a care home, which explained the large ground-floor extension to the rear. The place was in deteriorating condition when I first visited and things now looked considerably worse. Today I wanted to check out the mansion house further up the hill which I hadn't known about on my last trip. Brankstone Grange House was completed in 1866 as the home of the Dalgleish family. It became a Dr Barnardo's children's home after WW2 and the name was changed to Haldane House. A notable resident was Gregor Fisher, who enjoyed success as a comedy actor, most famously in the guise of Glaswegian street philosopher Rab C Nesbitt. The charity vacated the premises in 1969 and the building became a hotel before reverting to a private home and its original name.
When I'd posted my pictures of the care home lodge on Facebook, someone remarked they had gone up the hill for a look at the mansion but the owners didn't take too kindly to visitors. I've never experienced any problems simply approaching a country house on an access road and I wondered what the deal was here? I make it a rule to take pictures from a suitable distance and don't - for example - tramp across somebody's front lawn just because the way isn't barred. That would be like a stranger coming down my path for a nose around my garden. As I walked up the slope, I noticed the neighbouring lands were completely surrounded by a steel fence. This area is signed as the Skyfall Estate from the roadside and their drive is a little further along. I wondered if this was perhaps the place that apparently didn't welcome passers-by, as the entrance point seems to be heavily gated, a relatively uncommon situation among rural residences. I passed the Brankstone walled garden but decided against sticking my head through the doorway as it was clearly in active use. A dog began barking furiously as I approached the house but it seemed to be behind a fence so I continued undaunted. There were no cars to spoil my shot of the mansion but a green bin was standing outside and I just had to live with that. I had already turned away when I heard a woman shouting at the dog to calm down. I sort of half waved and headed back towards the car. Just a harmless bloke with a camera. Then I was aware of the dog running towards me and the lady trying to call it back. It didn't molest me and appeared more curious than anything else. I'm no canine expert, but I think many dogs that make a racket as you pass their territory are just that - all bark and little bite. Wouldn't run that theory past an alsation though!
I did ask about the Skyfall Estate on the local woodlands group. Nobody seems to know for certain, but it apparently has a wealthy owner who keeps very much to himself whenever he's around. Rumours say he's an English professional footballer. That might explain the bank of security cameras around the perimeter. The consensus of opinion was that visitors were definitely discouraged. I'll just have to go back for a closer look then! Someone contacted me to say she'd looked into the Land Registry but had uncovered just a holding company. Interestingly, another person wrote on Facebook that he'd had the police called on him after wandering up to view Brankstone Grange. Perhaps they are paranoid about people casing the joint. Then again, dozens of folk walk by my house every day and that's a fact of life for anyone in a residential scheme. I do hope this idea of an exclusive gated community never spreads seriously in Scotland. Can you get any more "us and them" than that?
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