Glendevon Castle

I had been googling around, looking for an abandoned site to explore that I could reach within half an hour or so from home. I happened to notice references to Glendevon Castle which had apparently been standing empty for 20 years following it's final incarnation as a pub and restaurant. The location seemed pretty accessible, just of the A823. The road to Crieff is one of my favourite drives in Scotland and probably one of the first major solo trips I made as a newly-qualified driver. Well, not so new. I actually passed my test as a teenager in 1990 but didn't buy a car for another 15 years. I was happy enough getting around on buses and trains. I find myself using public transport regularly these days as Nicole and I share a car and she takes it to work. I don't mind commuting on the bus and it has the advantage of permitting me to stop for cheeky pint on the way home.

Off I set on a fairly bright January morning. I found a convenient lay-by a short distance from the access road and the excitement began to mount as I strode uphill. I deviated from the path to climb a grassy slope, reckoning it might give me an overview of the castle. That wasn't quite the case but I pushed on a little further and soon saw the building. I was now looping round to the rear and it quickly became obvious the place was abandoned. A stack of breeze blocks looked as if they had been delivered recently by a builders merchant, so perhaps some basic work had been undertaken with remedial repairs or security in mind. There was some assorted debris lying around but the main building appeared to be in good condition. Entrances were bricked or heavily boarded up. A lower-level extension adjoined the original castle and I presume this was part of the restaurant. I had also seen reference to the castle functioning as a hotel at some point. There didn't appear to be any obvious point of entry and I was content to work my way around the building, taking pictures. Apparently it's an example of a tower house with substantial modifications. The bar was latterly known as The Dungeon and the cellars utilised as a drinking area.

The sun was shining on the front of the castle which brightened up my photographs from this angle. There was nobody else around and I explored at my leisure. I could be seen from a farm on the other side of the road but I was only a nerdy bloke with a camera. Who would ever challenge that? Funnily enough, when I posted my pics on the Urbex Scotland site someone asked if I knew I was being watched from hidden lenses in the bird boxes? I assumed this was a joke and replied in a frivolous manner. The site owner came on to the thread and said he'd been accosted by a guy in a Range Rover while looking around and had left the site. Coincidence? Or is there truth in the camera theory? Why would a building abandoned for over two decades be subject to surveillance? Especially since it hasn't been sold and the previous custodians allegedly upped and left? I can only surmise a friendly neighbour is keeping an eye on the castle for whoever happens to be responsible for its continuing care. Perhaps a sensor triggers an alert if someone gets too close. Anyway, I never saw hide nor hair of a "guard" and quietly went about my business before returning the the car. To be honest, I'm sceptical about the whole hidden camera story. Not that I was breaking any rules to begin with. I made my way to the patch of ground in front of the side extension. There were a couple of old benches still in place and a mock wishing well. I assumed this area was previously a beer garden or used for alfresco dining. I uploaded the above picture to Instagram when I returned home and it did well, garnering over 200 likes. Photos of dilapidated but once-grand buildings tend to be popular, especially when festooned with urbex-themed hashtags.

Satisfied with my expedition, I headed back down the road, sticking to my two-hour smash & grab raid timetable. I soon passed the Tormaukin Inn - one of the few real-ale pubs within a half-hour radius of me that I'd never visited. There is a 4-mile footpath from here to Dollar and I'll need to bump this one up the list a bit. I suspect these country watering holes rely mainly on food sales nowadays to keep them afloat. Drink driving is now (rightfully) taboo and - besides - there's a good profit margin in soft drinks. A few people on Facebook said they remembered Glendevon Castle back in the day and that it was an atmospheric place. The A823 crosses a neck of Clackmannanshire - or at least the modern council area of that name. The Wee County traditionally had its eastern boundary at Dollar and then you entered Perthshire. When the local government system was overhauled in 1975, nine regions were formed with a tier of district councils below. Some historic counties were rebadged as districts but in several cases there was tinkering around the edges. The southern tip of Perthshire was placed in the administrative hands of Clackmannan District Council. This organisation, in turn, became the Clacks council area of today. Therefore the village of Muckhart lies in historic Perthshire but is governed from Alloa (Clackmannan no longer being the county town of Clackmannanshire). The area has an FK (Falkirk) postcode, a town that was never in either of the two aforementioned counties or their modern political incarnations. Still with me? I do jest about the postcode as this system was never intended to demarcate county lines and was purely introduced to speed up the sorting of mail.

As I passed Rumbling Bridge, it reminded me of the time I sought out the old railway station and found the platform still intact. Trains ran between Kinross and Alloa on a route known as the Devon Valley Line. Like many other rural railways, it bore the brunt of the Beeching Axe in the 1960s. Rumbling Bridge itself crosses a steep narrow gorge through which the River Devon roars. It is well worth nipping down to view the churning waters. There is also the curious spectacle of a double stone bridge - the new crossing simply built on top of the old. This point marks the beginning of the Shire of Kinross, now represented in local government terms by Perth & Kinross Council. While the term Perthshire is still widely used by the national media, tiny Kinross-Shire is way more obscure but the old county still retains a strong identity locally and fought to have its name highlighted on road signage at entry points. As you've probably realised, I've developed a nerdy streak with regard to traditional boundaries but these subdivisions go back centuries and shouldn't - in my opinion - be forgotten about. I don't actually have a problem with, say, Dundee functioning as a council area and running it's own affairs. It makes sound administrative sense. Even in the days of each historic county having it's own active council, major cities had an elected corporation to oversee matters relating to them. Trying to run Dundee from Forfar would always have been a daft idea. Unfortunately a tendency has developed - perhaps inevitably - whereby people assume that council names on road signs tell the full story. Some folk will erroneously believe Dundee has no connection with Angus. You could take this argument to a ridiculous conclusion and say Aberdeen isn't actually in Aberdeenshire. No doubt a few heads would nod in agreement!