After the Angus washout the previous day, the weather prospects were far better for a trip to the historic County of Stirling. I had a couple of urbex adventures planned and also decided to squeeze in a circular rural walk. My fist port of call would be the town of Drymen which is pronounced Drimmen. I didn't actually know this until speaking to my mother on the phone and informing her of my plans for the day. You live and learn.
The sky was bright as I skirted the ancient Scottish royal capital and headed along the A811 - surely one of the straightest roads in the country? At least until you reach Buchlyvie. The route now bypasses Drymen with a crescent serving the town. My first mission was to drive just beyond this and enter the Buchanan Estate which nowadays contains a golf course, various local businesses and upmarket housing. But I was aiming for the jewel in the crown, or the fly in the ointment, depending on your point of view. The decaying Buchanan Castles sits right in the middle, surrounded by a screen of trees. It is indeed an strange juxtaposition to be greeted by the crumbling battlements poking above the vegetation as you walk by manicured lawns. The only barrier to entry was a low wire fence and some thick foliage - no problem to yours truly. Why is this vast ruin part of such a tranquil setting? Let's have a look at the history. Buchanan Auld House was destroyed by fire in 1852 and part of the remains now stand alongside the golf course clubhouse. The Duke of Montrose commissioned the much larger Buchanan Castle as a replacement and it was completed by 1858. Located half a mile from the old house, Buchanan Castle was an extravagant manor in the Scottish baronial style, enclosing an L-plan tower in a clutch of turrets, bartizans and stepped gables. It ceased to function as s residential property in 1925 and became a hotel in the 1930s, serving the top-class golf course designed by the legendary James Braid. Plans for residential development on the estate were delayed by the outbreak of the WW2, during which the house was requisitioned. It was used as a hospital and Hitler's former henchman Rudolf Hess was brought here after his bizarre flight to Scotland in 1941. Following the war, the building served briefly as the Army School of Education. The roof was removed in 1954 to avoid paying tax on the property and outlying parts were demolished. A number of residential buildings were subsequently built in the castle gardens and grounds. Meanwhile the castle continued to decay and no saviour was ever found.
A path led through the undergrowth to the roofless ruin and there were many old rooms to explore. For some reason, an old toilet was lying around but most of the debris consisted of rotting wood and chunks of masonry. The conditions underfoot were favourable but you had to watch out for a few unguarded drops and a couple of circular wells. Not a place to stagger around drunk. I saw a couple of other explorers nosing about. This is after all a well-known location in urbex circles. Nothing unusual at all about seeing a figure in the distance fiddling with a camera. What I didn't really expect was to stumble across my first model photoshoot. I've seen this a lot online. Young women - often in high heels and skimpy dresses - posing provocatively among the ruins. The photographer was kneeling down, carefully lining up angles and I nodded an acknowledgement as I passed. There is obviously a market for this sort of stuff. Short skirts and stilettos can be pleasing to the eye and who doesn't like a picture of a forgotten castle? But I'm not sure how all this fits together. I haven't yet walked into a couple shagging but no doubt that happens too - and that I do get! I'm a sucker for an old stone staircase and I found a cracking example. When the steps are almost smoothed over by accumulated earth I think it only adds to the sense of abandonment. After half an hour of mooching around, I made my way out of the overgrown compound happy that one explore was successfully in the bag. I made the short journey into the centre of Drymen and found a car park. I had a wander around the town centre, noting a real-ale pub that was only accessible to those making online advance bookings for meals. No sneaky pint to fortify me for the walk then. I had mapped out a three-mile circular route high above the town that included part of the West Highland Way. While studying an information board on the main street, I noticed that the Rob Roy Way begins in Drymen. An 80-mile path running to Pitlochry in Perthshire. It's great that Scotland now features so many walking trails.
I paralleled the A811 for a quarter mile before taking a grassy track signed as the West Highland Way. Finally I would be walking a couple of miles along this fabled footpath. I had actually done a short portion at Inversnaid the previous week but today's outing was a proper walk. Height was gradually gained and the rolling green valleys of Stirlingshire began to open up behind me. I met a forest road and this was part of the main way. The loop through Drymen seems to be an optional detour but I'm not sure how this works for completists who want to tread every yard. Do they perform the village circuit then go back and fill in the gap in the woods? I would certainly be tempted to do that! Truth be told, the woodland section was rather boring but as I approached a junction with a minor road, the corner of Loch Lomond revealed itself in the distance. I left the West Highland Way and took the Rob Roy Way downhill to Drymen. Two walking routes for the price of one! After a quick bite to eat it was time to motor on to my next destination. Mugdock Castle is situated in a country park of the same name. The place was thronging with visitors. The sense of being let off the leash after lockdown had obviously gripped the nation. The castle was for 400 years the seat of Clan Graham until Buchanan Auld House took over the reins. A mansion was constructed within the old castle walls but this property was demolished in 1874 and a baronial style replacement emerged over the next decade. Amazing what you could do with a bottomless bank account and no Listed Buildings Register to hold you back. Somewhat predictably, the house fell into military possession during WW2 but rather than falling into disrepair afterwards like many similar properties, it was purchased by Hugh Fraser - the famous retail kingpin. A disastrous fire in 1966 prevented the new house from reaching its 100th anniversary and again the wrecking ball moved in. The remaining castle boundaries and tower had been spared, along with some of the house walls to first-floor level. The entire estate was gifted to the local authority by Sir Hugh Fraser, son of the original department store chief. Hugh junior established the well-known House of Fraser retail chain.
The castle remains now sit behind a safety fence but I was able to find a vantage point and point my camera over the steelwork. I had a stroll around the park and made my way to the walled garden which had been constructed a few hundred yards from the castle. A garden centre now trades within the walls and some of the interior terraces and ponds have been retained. The sun was shining brightly and I decided to push on to my final urbex assault of the day. I had a feeling this visit might yield some spectacular photos and I wanted to take full advantage of the bright clear skies. I drove to Lennoxtown. The road signs said I was in East Dunbartonshire but the territory lying in the shadow of the Campsie Fells is firmly within the historic county of Stirling. Lennoxtown is best known today for hosting the training headquarters of Celtic Football Club. The Bhoys moved to the purpose-built facility in 2005 and the complex is situated within the former grounds of Lennox Castle. Facilities include three grass training pitches (one with undersoil heating) and an additional AstroTurf field. The indoor sports centre boasts a training hall, fitness suite, medical facilities, sauna & steam room, pool, changing rooms, classrooms, administration offices, media facilities, kit room and laundry. Phew! Things have moved on from the days of running round a muddy field. I wasn't on a footballing expedition though. I wanted to seek out the remains of Lennox Castle itself. Once the headquarters of one of Scotland's biggest - and most infamous - asylums.
The castle dates from 1837 and the hospital complex opened a century later - the biggest such facility in the UK. Commissioned by Glasgow Corporation but tucked away in this rural corner of Stirlingshire, over 1000 patients could be accommodated. An overspill maternity ward operated until 1964, which is why many people around today can say they were born there. A rather dubious distinction if you don't read the small print! Changing attitudes saw most of these massive institutions close around the end of the 20th century and Lennox Castle shut its doors forever in 2002. The surrounding buildings were demolished but the castle - only ever used as an office and staff accommodation block - was left standing, presumably due to listed status. A huge fire broke out in 2008, leaving just a charred shell behind. I made my way along a woodland path before hitting a road lined with rusting lampposts and blocked by chunks of solid concrete. This must have been the way into Lennox Castle and no doubt the barricades were put in place to deter unwanted vehicles following closure. Did the barrier hasten the building's decline by hindering fire engines when the blaze was in full swing? An interesting question. I could see green grass at the top of the slope. Obviously part of the training grounds. I was certainly in the right place. I took a gravel track through the trees, passing a group of youths who were only around 12 years old. They seemed to be heading in the same direction as me. I guessed the old castle would be an adventure playground for kids - but maybe things would take a more sinister turn later on. Which is why I tend to visit these places during the hours of broad daylight.
As the tree cover broke, the castle remains towered impressively above me. The building was ringed by steel palisade fencing but the youths promptly overtook me and disappeared through a gap. These guys were in the know! I decided first of all to take some shots from behind the fence before venturing inside. A few kids were milling around but nobody paid me any attention. The main doors were heavily bolted but a large breach in a side wall was filled by a pile of broken stone. I climbed up this mound and had a view of the interior. The fire had destroyed everything but the bare masonry, although a few twisted metal beams jutted out here and there. One was suspended at a weird angle with what looked like part of a fire escape ladder dangling off the end. Cue the obligatory avant-garde photo. Hey, it's not just Yoko Ono who can conjure up this stuff! I could now look down upon the foyer and there was a spectacular stone carving on the roof of the entrance porch. Everywhere else was filled by piles of rubble and what was the point of clambering down there when I could survey the whole site from my vantage point. Likewise, I didn't see any value in trying to work my way around the outer perimeter as I'd already arrived at the grand entrance and it wouldn't be any better than this. I had a bird's eye view of a grand building reduced to ruin. I'm glad I visited and I did read some harrowing tales about the hospital's past. There wasn't actually any sense of foreboding while standing on site as the castle had been blown wide open and the sun streamed in. The outbuildings - where the real murky events would have occurred - were long gone and covered in lush grass. One has to wonder whether Celtic's millionaire players have any idea about what went on here as they perform their training routines. I reflected on this as I drove home via Kilsyth - this part of Stirlingshire now annoyingly rebranded as North Lanarkshire - and vowed to read up on the hospital history. At the outset it all seemed rosy. A huge country estate purchased with the intention of allowing patients to recuperate in pleasant surroundings while state of the art medical facilities were installed.
I think the original aims of these institutions were sound. They may have been officially named "lunatic asylums" but that was the terminology of the day. Living conditions back then were cramped and unsanitary for many people and the concepts of fresh air, open space and relief from the urban clatter probably did benefit many of the afflicted. Work duties would involve tending the garden and keeping the grounds ship-shape. Not that far removed from the life of an ordinary country estate worker. I should imagine the problems began when the asylums became overcrowded and psychiatric drugs entered the equation along with questionable treatments such as shock therapy. A culture did seem to develop where people were tossed into these institutions on the flimsiest premise and once you were in, I guess it wasn't a simple procedure to get back out. Shutting people away was the order of the day and I also read that some of the practices among the warders at Lennox Castle were unkind if not downright sadistic. The scale of the place must have been incredible. The two dining halls accommodated 600 people each. Very easy to become lost in the system I assume. Here are a few snippets of the darker side of life in Lennox Castle. The hospital was vastly overcrowded, understaffed and underfunded. Vulnerable patients were left to fend for themselves in the large wards. A 1989 study by the British Medical Journal found that a quarter of patients at Lennox Castle Hospital were dangerously underweight and malnourished. Former patients recall being given unnecessarily cruel punishments for petty offences. Incidents included being struck with a baseball bat and being made to run laps barefoot around the castle, just for forgetting to address a staff member as Sir. Mental, eh?
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