A few months ago, I explored the old Loanhead Railway from end to end. It is now a cycle path and features a steel lattice viaduct over Bilston Glen - the longest of its type ever built in Scotland. Unbeknownst to me as I walked the trackbed, I was passing close to a grand estate on the edge of Loanhead that had finally fallen into disuse in the 1970s. I became aware of the place after watching a BBC show about hidden locations in Scotland. The presenter wandered through the estate grounds towards the ruined mansion, where he was granted access by a member of the preservation trust keeping watch over the crumbling remains. I resolved there and then to head across at the first practical opportunity.
Mavisbank House was constructed in the 1720s and is described as the first Palladian villa in Scotland. It was granted Category-A listed status but a serious fire caused extensive damage in 1973. Midlothian Council secured a Compulsory Purchase Order in 2012 to safeguard the immediate future of the architectural gem but the house remains in a dangerous state and huge sums of money would be required to attempt even a basic restoration. This is still preferable to the previous situation of uncertain ownership (and continual decline) following the deaths of the final occupants, the Stevenson family. The property now sits behind security fencing and some shoring-up work has been undertaken to prevent further collapse. By contrast, the oval walled garden is in immaculate condition and lovingly tended by its private owner who lives in a low-level house built upon the site of the old potting sheds. I parked in the centre of Loanhead and took a path through Bilson Glen to reach the fringes of the estate. There was one small section where a good head for heights was required. Two ravines backed into each other and a slender earthwork bridged the gap. The crossing was however completely flat and a few feet wide. Potentially tricky, but not exactly a snow bridge over a yawning glacial crevasse. I picked up a public path alongside the River North Esk and soon caught sight of the walled garden. The dovecot stood on a high ridge and the sun was in the right position for a nice early morning photo. I peeked through a gap in the 4-meter high brick wall to view the garden but soon realised taking the winding tarmac round uphill would allow me to look down upon the interior from the other side. It was indeed a beautiful expanse. Laid mainly to grass, with shrubbery dotted around the perimeter. The garden is also A-listed and the elliptical footprint is rather unusual as curved walls were thought to cause the wind to eddy, retarding the ripening of fruit. A short hike brought me to the house and the state of dereliction was immediately apparent. There was no way through the palisade fencing that formed a rectangle around the property but I was able to scramble up an overgrown mound behind the house to gain a nice view from an elevated position. Midlothian Council have installed a network of signed paths in the area and a few groups of walkers passed by the mansion on this fine morning. However the wider grounds are dense with vegetation and the place is still a long way off the community asset it could be.
As with virtually all country manors, several extensions were added over the years and Mavisbank featured a ballroom by the time it was converted to an asylum in 1876, at which point it was renamed New Saughton Hall, with wings erected to provide additional accommodation. Mary Burton became head gardener, with responsibility for engaging patients in green-fingered activities to aid their recuperation. She held the post for 38 years and can lay claim to being the first woman in Scotland to obtain this type of position. Over a long career, her professionalism and horticultural knowledge encouraged an increasing acceptance of skilled female gardeners in the first half of the 20th century. Women's input had until then been restricted to routine tasks such as weeding. She was adept in the cultivation of flowers, fruit and vegetables, particularly tomatoes and potatoes. Mary also emerged as a prominent figure within the Scottish Horticultural Association, becoming the first lady to be awarded the Associate of Honour medal. It should be remembered that gardening duties at the hospital were not purely ornamental. Over four acres were devoted to providing the hospital with vegetables, fruit and flowers on a daily basis. Livestock consisted of sheep, pigs and poultry. The parkland included a golf course cricket pitch, croquet and tennis lawns, all of which would have to be maintained for leisure/healing purposes. No doubt the patients provided a great deal of the labour for the aforementioned tasks. After 75 years of service as a hospital, Mavisbank was purchased by the Medical Superintendent for Edinburgh, Dr Harrowes, who returned it to use a family home, demolishing some of the extensions. The property reverted to its original name at this time. By the late 1950s, the house had been sold to Mrs Willis Stevenson and a period of decline ensued. There are many reports of an Archie Stevenson running a car-breaking business in the 70s. Presumably he was the husband or son of Willis and there are photos online of a dilapidated house surrounded by vehicles in varying states of dismantlement. After the disastrous fire, there are stories of Mr Stevenson and his family living in caravans on the site. This may sound like a simple tale of local eccentrics, but business matters take a rather murky turn. Upon her death, Willis Stevenson sold the house and land to her daughter, Mrs Jean Martin, resident in America. She, in turn, offloaded the main block and two wings to three unknown (and likely fictitious) individuals in the States. Perhaps a deliberate move to obfuscate future ownership issues? Meanwhile, Archie Stevenson seems to have been evicted from Mavisbank in 1987, the same year Midlothian District Council announced its intention to demolish the property, the plan only being averted by a last-minute intervention from the Secretary of State for Scotland.
Quite a tale! With the Mavisbank Trust now actively seeking to restore the estate, progressive improvements can be made to benefit the local community. But not everything is rosy. According to their website, the trust was dealt a body blow in 2021 when an application for a National Lottery grant was refused. While cosmetic schemes such as improved public access will be within the reach of volunteer fundraisers, a serious amount of money is surely required to enable significant structural rebuilding and wholesale vegetation management. It may well be the case that a semi-wild landscape augmented by a bit of tinkering will be the norm for the foreseeable future. I left the grounds by a pathway at the far end that connected with a narrow road paralleling an abandoned railway. I knew Lasswade Viaduct was in the vicinity but there didn't seem to be an obvious path through the vegetation towards it. I had already read the bridge was heavily fenced at both ends and knew that I'd be able to drive up to the other side so I decided to turn back through the estate and collect the car. This time I followed a more informal path along a ridge that looked down upon an old pond. I arrived at the house and had a look at some crumbling outbuildings before taking the road past the walled garden. I believe the large expanse of grass to my left was where the cricket pitch had been. The garden was sold separately from the house after the hospital closed and functioned as a commercial plant nursery until the present occupant moved in as a private householder. I trudged back through the muddy paths of Bilston Glen and found the car, then drove round to Lasswade and parked at a spot where I could look down upon the curved viaduct from a height. Designed by the infamous engineer Thomas Bouch (he was the man behind the doomed Tay Bridge), the six-arched structure now cuts a lonely figure in the leafy valley it spans. It seems crazy to abandon the B-listed viaduct when it could so obviously be put into service as a public walkway. The amount of maintenance required to make it safe for pedestrians and bikes (hell, even horses) would be minimal and it's elevation of 75 feet would surely provide lovely views to those who traversed. We keep hearing of an impending mental health crisis and how simply being in pleasant surroundings among nature can be an effective measure in combating this scourge. Well, here's a project that would benefit the local community. I feel a letter or email to Midlothian Council coming on. I drove down to try and grab a closer look at the top of the viaduct from this side. A residential street runs right up to the bridge but thick hedges blocked access to the metal fence across the entrance.
Lasswade was one of three passenger stations on the Esk Valley branch line that diverged from the trunk route to the Borders. Opened in 1867, it offered freight facilities to the mills along the river. Business was initially brisk but began to decline from the 1920s onwards when road transport links were improved. Passenger services were withdrawn in 1951 and the line limped on as a goods-only concern until 1964. Despite the fact that much of the old trackbed remains traceable, no attempt has been made to convert the route to alternative use, which is a shame. Between the viaduct and Lasswade Station, trains passed through a 430-yard tunnel. Although I expected the portals to be sealed, I had researched a potential access point in advance and I discretely hopped over a low wall and descended into an overgrown (but fairly shallow) cutting. Well, you didn't seriously think I would attempt to check out the viaduct but ignore the tunnel? The going wasn't as bad as I'd feared and thankfully free of flooding. I waded through the undergrowth for 100 yards and saw the portal had been bricked up but a couple of holes were present, possibly to enable bats to use the tunnel for roosting purposes. I peered through the gap and saw...precisely nothing. The bore follows an s-curve therefore the far portal was completely out of sight and the interior dominated by blackness. Poking my camera inside and trying a flash shot yielded just a vague shot of a passageway. Nothing I could use on here. There is zero prospect of the railway ever being reinstated. Eskbank Station on the Borders route is just a few miles away and is now regarded as the railhead for this region. Short branch lines were largely pruned from the network following the Beeching recommendations in the 1960s. A few survive as curios from a bygone age but I can't imagine funding being provided to re-stablish such connections, unless there happens to be an exceptional business case. It had been a good day's exploring so far and I reckoned there was sufficient time to drive to North Berwick on the coast and scale the Law.
A conical volcanic plug that rises to 613 feet, North Berwick Law overlooks the town and the Bass Rock - home to the largest colony of northern gannets in the world. The summit bears remnants of an Iron Age hill fort, and the ruins of later military buildings that were once used by lookouts in both the Napoleonic Wars, and the second World War. A car park is located at the bottom and it's simply a case of following the signs to the top a fairly steep slog. The wind strength seemed to increase in direct proportion to height gained and it was indeed a blustery experience at the top. The views were amazing though, with a 360-degree panorama of the Firth of Forth, Fife and the Lothians. The Isle of May was clearly visible and the imposing form of Tantallon Castle stood just a few miles down the coast. Since 1709 the Law has been topped with a whale's jawbone. This was replaced three times until being permanently removed in 2005. due to safety concerns. Three years later, a fibreglass replica of the same size was airlifted into place to restore this well-known skeletal landmark. Quite a few people were milling around on the summit. It's the sort of climb that most people can attempt. I was back at the bottom as the light faded and I drove homewards with a day of varied activities behind me.
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