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  • Writer's pictureWalking With Brian

Sheriffmuir Forest

Updated: Sep 26, 2022

It's always an interesting day when you can combine a walk with a romp through history. The Forest of Sheriffmuir lies on the moorland between Dunblane and Bridge of Allan and is the site of a Jacobean conflict. We arrived at the giant MacRae monument after spending some time birdwatching in the wider area. We saw whinchat sitting on fenceposts but the wheatear - a known resident of these parts - proved elusive. We had been for a wander in Sheriffmuir Woods prior to lockdown but the path network has been improved and new signage shows the various colour-coded trails.


The Battle of Sheriffmuir took place in 1715 during the first Jacobite uprising. King James VII (and second of England) had been forced off the throne in 1688 due to his religious beliefs and had sought exile in France. He was the younger brother of Charles II and the last catholic monarch of England, Scotland and Ireland. Charles had left no legitimate heir and the crown passed sideways to London-born James. After just three turbulent years as king, he was deemed by parliament to have effectively abdicated following his flight to the continent and the vacant throne was filled by his daughter and her protestant Dutch husband, William of Orange - who were installed a joint sovereigns. This was a turning point for the House of Stuart and indeed the nation as Catholicism was left behind and legislation put in place to prevent members of this faith ever ruling. An attempt by James to regain his position in 1690 was ultimately defeated at the Battle of the Boyne in Ireland and he lived out the rest of his days in French exile. James Francis Edward Stuart was the only male child from James's two marriages to reach adulthood. Officially Prince of Wales for a matter of months before his father's deposal, Prince James grew up in France and declared himself King of the British lands upon his father's death in 1701 - a move endorsed by France, Spain and the Papal States. An early attempt to invade Britain in 1708 was thwarted when the fleet - backed by France - was intercepted on the Firth of Forth. While James was focussed on regaining his crown, the French saw the exercise as a useful way of tying up British resources so other military matters could be pursued in the Spanish War of Succession. James retired to lick his wounds but the cause to restore the "rightful" monarch was galvanised in 1714 when Queen Anne died without leaving a successor. None of her five children had survived to adulthood and there ended the reign of the House of Stuart. The crown passed to Anne's second cousin George, Elector of Hanover, the closest protestant relative approved by the 1701 Act of Settlement. The appointment of a German-speaking monarch who appeared to have few close ties with England or Scotland caused consternation and the Jacobean cause to put James III & VIII on the throne was reignited.


John Erskine - 6th Earl of Mar - was the standard bearer for the rebel cause in Scotland. He declared James VIII King of Scots and captured Perth with an army of 12000 men and controlled most of the Highlands. He moved his forces south and they engaged the British Army - led by John Campbell, Duke of Argyll - at Sheriffmuir in November, 1715. Despite having vastly superior numbers, the Jacobites were unable to overcome their opponents and Mar - unwilling to risk his entire unit - allowed Argyll to withdraw. Both sides claimed victory but the inconclusive outcome of the combat meant that the Jacobites' chance to advance into the Lowlands and link up with fellow supporters in England was lost. Prince James - the pretender to the throne - arrived in Scotland the following month but his presence failed to breathe new life into the campaign dwindled. James returned to France, taking Mar with him.


A newly-laid path took us up to the site of the Gathering Stone - said to be the point where the Jacobite standard was unfurled prior to the battle of Sheriffmuir. Likely an ancient place of worship, the stone was smashed into several pieces in 1848 by English railway navvies, following a dispute with their Scots counterparts. It must have been a serious argument for the aggrieved men to pick their way across the moorland and vent their muscle power on the monolith. The Laird of Kippendavie - John Stirling - had the remains enclosed within an iron cage, which is how they appear today. The old battlefield is now surrounded by a modern commercial forestry operation and the area is now an important habitat for wildlife - particularly butterflies and dragonflies. We wandered a man-made pond that once functioned as a reservoir for the Dunblane Hydropathic Hotel - a Victorian health spa that opened in 1878 and still provides upmarket accommodation today. Pure spring water from the Ochils was stored in the pond before being piped to the hotel, via filter beds.


It had been an educational walk around the woodland and we were impressed with the path layout and information points. On the way back to the car, we chatted to a woman walking a Norwich terrier - a dog breed I was completely unaware of. We rounded off the day by driving into the historic Perthshire town of Dunblane. The most famous resident of recent years is tennis player Andy Murray, who won the Wimbledon trophy twice along with the US Open. He bagged two Olympic gold medals and was five times runner-up in the Australian Open. By far the best player from Scotland ever to swing a racket and still active at the time of writing. His brother Jamie is a Wimbledon doubles champion and this feat was repeated at the Australian Open. On a darker note, the Murray brothers were pupils at Dunblane Primary School when the infamous massacre occurred in 1996. Gunman Thomas Hamilton took the lives of 16 pupils and their teacher. The architectural focal point of the town is Dunblane Cathedral - an imposing building with parts dating back to the 11th century. We parked just outside and wandered through the graveyard and down to the River Allan. Back at street level, we dropped into the Riverside pub/restaurant which has a wooden balcony overlooking the water. We sat in the open air and I enjoyed a couple of pints from Loch Lomond Brewery - a treat that is becoming rarer due to the fact that a £4-£5 price range for a beer is now the norm. The next day, I took a drive up past Kinross and Milnathort to Path of Condie - a tiny hamlet nestled among the low-rise hills of South Perthshire. Despite being just a short drive from the M90, the area is remote and narrow roads wind through the rolling green landscape.


I had worked out a 4-mile circular route (borrowed from a blog to be precise) and I parked in a small lay-by at the entrance to Clow Wood. I quickly gained height on a forestry track and could see the twin Lomond peaks in the distance. Clow Hill had recently been shorn of its plantation cover and although my chosen path skirted the lower slope, I scrambled up halfway to stand on a tree stump and gain even better views. The signed Path of Condie trail then dipped down into a peaceful grassy valley which contained the May Water. An unexpected highlight of the trail was running into the abandoned Wester Clow farm. The walls of several stone buildings were still standing although the roofs had lone gone. This must have been a bustling working environment at one time but only the ghostly shells of the farmhouse and cottages remain. Just before crossing the stream on a basic concrete bridge, I encountered two old caravans now used for storage. The path led up the opposite valley slope and I climbed a style into a sheep field and followed the obvious track towards Path of Condie hamlet. A "glamping" pod is available for hire and it would certainly be a lovely location for a quiet few days. I had no option but to use the minor road to bring me back to the starting point and I walked round the crazy hairpin bend that I'd negotiated in first gear a couple of hours beforehand. I assumed one or two cars might pass by but my estimate was way off beam. A steady stream of classic cars came towards me as I trudged back to my humble Peugeot. It looked like a car club was out for a rural run. One sure-fire indicator of the ageing process is when cars you commonly saw as a child are now deemed collectors items. I could almost taste the petrol fumes emanating from some of the old timers. I just want a car that works and is cheap to run. But different strokes for different folks! No doubt my fascination with walking trails is completely bamboozling to some people.

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