Sunday Wanderings

With Nicole working all day Sunday for the foreseeable future, I began assembling a list of destinations I could comfortably visit during (home) office hours. Mainly places that had been lingering at the back of my mind for a while. Walking routes I'd spotted on a map that would make a nice little excursion. Generally non-urgent stuff I could tackle if and when a period of free time presented itself. On some outings I would ask my mum to accompany me. She's now living alone since dad moved into a care home and she gave up driving a while back. Only right that I should take her to places of interest.

But I'll begin this collection with a report of a solo walk. Denny is a small town in Stirlingshire just off the M80 and M876. A place I'd seen on road signs hundreds of times but never actually been to. Yet just a 20 minute drive away. I stitched together a circular route making use of railway and river paths and scouted out a suitable place to park. Upon arrival I was confronted by the impressive parish church which had a nice floral display out front. I ditched the car and began my walk on Glasgow Road. The title suggests it was part of the main route from Stirling to our biggest city prior to the construction of the motorway network. I picked up the path that ran alongside the old town house and modern sports centre. I was walking upon the trackbed of the branch line from Falkirk to Denny and close to the site of the station, now long gone. Passenger services were withdrawn as far back as 1930. A large number of small stations were closed in this year. Nearly always as a result of increasing competition from buses and trams which creamed off the short-journey traffic as a result of cheaper fares and more frequent services. Another problem was that some railway stations were built a significant distance from the settlement they purported to serve. This obviously wasn't the case in Denny but I've personally visited a few old halts where a 2-mile walk was required to reach the town or village centre. The demise of Denny Station didn't cut off the town from the national rail network. Far from it. Two freight lines looped around the outskirts, transporting goods to and from the various foundries, pits and mills that once thrived here. Trains continued to chug their way along the old branch until Doctor Beeching finally appeared over the horizon in the late 60s, brandishing his fearsome axe. While researching my trip, I'd come across an encouraging article from 2019 in the local press, confirming that the local authority had granted funding to upgrade the redundant trackbed to a walking and cycling route between Falkirk and Denny. I couldn't find any further evidence of progress, either in printed form or on the actual ground. My assumption is that Covid put the kaibosh on this project. For now, at least. I transferred to the old line that ran north and passed below a couple of old stone bridges. The crossing of the River Carron had been replaced with a modern footbridge and the water was particularly swollen today, following a few days of heavy rain. I had originally intended to follow the river bank here but the rail path continued ahead and I swiftly changed tack. Eventually I reached the point where the tarmac ran out and a faint path ran towards a wooded area. I turned into the adjacent housing scheme and made my way by dead reckoning back towards the town centre. A quick consultation of Open Street Map informed me I could cross Herbertshire Park and re-unite with the Carron. As is often the case on walks, a slice of unexpected history presented itself.

A set of information panels stood beside a gnarled and obviously ancient oak tree with enormous girth. The public park was once the site of Herbertshire Castle. Built in the 1400s it played a part in the Jacobite Rebellion, housing injured warriors following the Battle of Falkirk Muir in 1746. While Bonnie Prince's Charlie's forces claimed victory, it was to have little effect on the overall campaign. The castle served as a school for boys in the last couple of decades of the 19th century. It then became the Edinburgh Holiday House for poor children - promising the youngsters a taste of pure air and happy surroundings in the country, away from the dullness of their homes. The property was owned by the Forbes dynasty of Callendar. A tragic blaze occurred during a birthday party attended by various families. Mrs Forbes discovered the fire and her four daughters escaped unharmed. Sadly, three people lost their lives, including Elizabeth Graham who was about to turn 16 and for whom the gathering had been organised. Her younger sister also perished. The building was completely gutted to the bare walls and fell into ruin, being used as a children's adventure playground until final demolition in the 1950s. I followed the Carron for a while then passed through an area of old woodland that was probably part of the Herbertshire Estate. I ducked below the M80 back towards town and followed another railway trackbed back to my starting point. A pleasant wander and another new place explored. Never make the assumption that there will be nothing to see. Every settlement has history worth checking out.

Another Sunday was spent at the Japanese Garden near Dollar. My mum came along and Nicole was there too. This must have been before she started her current working hours. Tucked away in the grounds of the long-demolished Cowden Castle, the garden was recently re-opened to the public after decades of neglect. It lies just beyond Pool of Muckhart, a small village at the southern tip of Perthshire, now administered by the Clackmannanshire Council Area. Nicole had I had been here before, not long after the the place got up and running again. The garden was still a work in progress back then and a Portakabin served as the visitors centre. It has now been replaced by a purpose-build café and shop. Things we did shortly before lockdown often appear like a very long time ago.

Water is a central feature of Japanese gardens and there are lovely ornate wooden arched and zigzag bridges here at Cowden. They symbolise our journey through life. I love the general ambience of the place and it was lovely just to stroll around on a warm day. Several stone sculptures were dotted around the compound and there was a good network of paths to follow. We omitted the outlying woodland trails as it would have been a bit too much for mum to manage. A booking slot was required but this wasn't actually a Corona measure. The ordinary policy is to maintain tranquillity by limiting visitor numbers. An unusual feature - at least by Western standards - is a dry garden which contains a carefully composed arrangement of rocks and mosses. Sand patterns are carefully raked each day to represent ripples in water. There are four moss islands and representations of a turtle and crane to convey good fortune. The dry garden is surrounded by boundary stones which indicate that visitors are not to enter the area. A roofed structure overlooked the central pond and proved a popular spot for couples to be photographed. Many of the plants and trees are representative of what would be found in a typical Japanese garden, although some are Scottish to represent the fusion of the two cultures. For example, the 90 different moss species distributed throughout, which are gathered from the surrounding estate woodland. There is also a diverse wildlife presence and the pond is stocked with fish. Thankfully, our native red squirrels have given the place their seal of approval. We spent a good hour or more wandering around before making our way back to the car. The café was busy and we decided to head down to Pool of Muckhart for a bar lunch. The Cowden Estate has quite a fascinating history. Crucial to the tale is a pioneering lady called Ella Christie who was something of a trailblazing explorer in her day. Born in 1861, she grew up at Cowden Castle, which had been purchased by her parents. Ella travelled extensively in Asia and became the first European woman to meet the Dalai Lama! An amusing anecdote relates the time she was waiting - aged 50 - for the train at Dollar station. A stranger asked if she was travelling to Edinburgh. Her curt reply - "No, Samarkand" - perfectly encapsulates the fearless spinster who was fluent in several languages, including Finnish. Ella was in the first cohort of women to be elected Fellows of the Royal Geographical Society and during a trip to China, Korea and Japan in 1907-08, she became inspired to create a Japanese garden at her Scottish home and employed expert horticulturalist Taki Handa to fulfil her dream. The burn was dammed within a 7-acre hollow to create the small lake around which the garden would be developed.

As the vegetation matured, Professor Suzuki - 18th Hereditary Head of the Soami School of Imperial Garden Design at Nagoya - came regularly to Cowden to prune the many imported shrubs and trees. He declared the garden "the best in the Western World" - widely thought to be due to the employment of experienced Japanese gardeners to maintain the grounds. One such character was Shinzaburo Matsuo, who arrived at Cowden in 1925 having lost his entire family in an earthquake back home. He lived alone on the estate and became a well-known figure in the local community, endearingly referred to as the Emperor. He tended the garden until his death in 1937. It was testament to Ella's people skills that she was able to retain such faithful and high-quality service from those who must have faced a huge culture shock when arriving upon these shores. Queen Mary visited on a few occasions and the general public were given the opportunity to view the surroundings via Scotland's Garden Scheme. Private tours and lectures were also given to horticultural and history groups. Ella Christie passed away in 1949 at the age of 87. The estate was inherited by her great nephew Robert Christie Stewart and the garden continued to be looked after. Disaster struck in1963 when a gang of teenagers broke in and caused widespread damage, including fires. A lengthy period of abandonment ensued. Fast forward 45 years and the land was now in the care of Sara Stewart, daughter of Robert and great great niece of Ella. A restoration programme was launched and Taki Handa's granddaughter was invited across. Under the guiding hand of Professor Masao Fukuhara from the Osaka University of Arts, a new garden began to spring into life under the stewardship of a charitable trust. This unique (and completely authentic) bridge between two distinct cultures can now be enjoyed by the nation. Cowden Castle was demolished way back in 1952, presumably unable to keep up with societal changes in the post-war period. This of course was a fate that befell many a grand residence in the days before historically important buildings were protected by law.

Another outing was to investigate the birthplace of my maternal grandmother. Annie Harvey (1912-1990) was born in Slamannan, Stirlingshire. She is pictured below with her mother Mary Harvey (nee Clark, 1886 - 1973). One of eight surviving children, my gran moved to Cardenden, Fife, around the age of 11. Her father George Harvey (1879-1965) was a coal miner and had presumably secured a new job in the Kingdom. Neither my mum nor I had ever been to the village of Slamannan and we decided to go and have a look. Gran's birth certificate stated she was born in Kirkburn and there was a modern street of that name still in existence, although it was now occupied by post-war housing. It would make for an interesting day out and afterwards we planned to have lunch on the banks of the Union Canal, just a few miles distant.

We found our way to the village and parked by the churchyard. I had previously received images of gravestones from a distant cousin whom I'd contacted via the Ancestry DNA test results. Gran's Uncle Johnny and Auntie Lizzy were buried here. Siblings of my great grandfather, they had remained in Slamannan all their days, living to 86 and 92 respectively. The cemetery was surprisingly large but Uncle Johnny's grave was fairly close to the church. We were able to use the photograph for navigational clues; the stone boundary wall and the presence of an elaborate tomb nearby. We didn't go off in search of Auntie Lizzie's resting place as it may have taken some considerable time and we had already located tangible evidence of the Harvey family. We drove round to Kirkburn and - as expected - found council housing that looked to have been erected around the 1960s. In no way was I disappointed. Towns change over the years, and always did. The main thing was we knew we had a pretty accurate fix on the location. Slamannan itself had clearly seen better days and a few business premises were boarded up. Mum was surprised at the rural setting. I think she had anticipated us ending up a lot closer to Falkirk. Then again, we were looking at the place many decades after heavy industry had departed. No doubt coal wagons would have rumbled across the landscape and the air must have rung to the banging and clattering of mechanised might. Probably a smoky place too as every house burned coal as the main fuel. We left the ancestral village and headed over to Lock 49 Café on the Union Canal. I had noticed the place from the towpath on the other side during previous walks and kept a mental note to stop by one day. It did not disappoint. The food was excellent and a wooden terrace overlooks the water, although we opted to sit inside on a slightly chilly day. Mum said she had always been fascinated by canals so I'd obviously chosen a good spot. I saw a sign for a water taxi service to and from nearby Linlithgow. Handy if you were bringing a small party and planning to have a drink or two.