The tiny village of West Wemyss on the Fife coast is a true hidden gem. Now a conservation area with a population of less than 300, it's not the sort of place you would randomly pass through as it sits three quarters of a mile from the A955 in a concealed location. The village has strong links to an industrial past and is now part of the 117-mile Fife Coastal Path.
I've visited several times by car and on foot and am always blown away by the early 18th-century tolbooth on the main street. Although a fairly modest landmark, the white-painted clock tower seems to me like it belongs on distant shores. You can walk through an archway and there were previously cells at ground level. A quirky joy of a building I will never tire of looking at. We parked by the harbour which has been much reduced in size, following the infilling and landscaping of the inner dock back in the 1960s. The village - originally constructed to house workers on the Wemyss Estate - became known for the export of coal and salt but the former had dried up by the mid-1800s while the last village pit closed in 1914. The harbour continued to operate commercially for a few more decades but usage steadily declined and it eventually silted up. Small fishing vessels now berth in the outer dock which was cleaned out in the 1990s. Old Ordnance Survey maps reveal the presence of a tramway running down to the harbour from the Methil Railway that passed the village on the ridge of land above. It's difficult to imagine nowadays that West Wemyss was once a centre of industrial activity as it now seems a desirable place to live precisely because of its quiet and secluded coastal location. This is mainly down to the landowners - in particular the Wemyss Estate - making great efforts to restore the historic building and streets to former glory in an effort to reverse the decline caused by the disappearance of traditional trades. The Wemyss Coal Company had a network of mineral lines across the area and they somehow escaped nationalisation 1948 - remaining instead as the Wemyss Private Railway, which operated until 1970.
The sun came out to illuminate the harbour as we strolled around. I assume the large boarded-up house overlooking the quayside was once the quarters of the master. It sparked off a conversation about how there are so many grand old buildings standing empty - often in town centres - that may never find any practical use in the medium term, yet we still have a severe homeless problem, as well as young families on modest incomes who can't find any accommodation at a fair price. Vast sums of social security must be paid out as people are shunted around temporary units or put up in expensive private lets, where the landlord may or may not be interested in maintaining the accommodation to a good standard (but pockets the cash regardless). Workers in low-paid jobs who can't get on the housing ladder are often forced down the private route which swallows up most of their income, leaving them to eke out an existence that if not officially classed as poverty, is damn close to it. The solution seems obvious. We can't do much about the social housing stock that has already been sold off so why not convert unused buildings to modern accommodation? Surely that makes more sense than leaving properties to decay. With the work-at-home culture taking hold, there's going to be a lot of commercial office space that no company will rent. But what about the strain on local services, comes the cry from the "I'm alright Jack" brigade. Well, build new primary schools and health centres. Create more jobs and grow the economy. Everybody wins!
From the end of the harbour wall, I had a good view of a ruined 16th-century four-storey tower house inside the old Chapel Garden. A stretch of the original seawall is intact, topped by an arched design. Three round ramparts are built into the wall, which encloses the ancient Wemyss family burial ground. The ruins are the property of the Wemyss Estate and the ancestral family mansion - Wemyss Castle - stands on the cliff tops between the villages of East and West Wemyss. It wasn't possible to see the castle from where I was standing but I believe a restricted view can be obtained from further along the beach. The Wemyss family still inhabit the estate (landscaped in the 18th or 19th century) and the castle is a 15th century stone rectangular keep and courtyard fortress, established by Sir John Wemyss. In the early 1700s, a vaulted entrance, and two towers were added when the walls of enclosure were rebuilt. A large L-plan block augmented the courtyard, which itself was built upon during Victorian times. By 1930, most of these new features were demolished, exposing the 17th century façade of this fine mansion. As we walked back through the harbour area towards the village centre, we observed the castellated annexe of the currently-closed Belvedere Hotel standing in a prominent position. It formerly housed the reading room and coffee lounge of the local miners institute. The main building is further up the hill. Opened in 1927, the miners welfare facilities ceased to function in 1952 and were subsequently converted to hotel accommodation. Blessed with views over the village harbour and Firth of Forth, the 3-star complex boasted 20 rooms, a restaurant, lounge bar and private car park. In 2016 the Belvedere closed and was put on the market. As yet, no buyer has stepped forward.
We strolled along the seafront and had lunch on the beach, before cutting up to the village centre. The community pub (the Walk Inn) has been given a fresh lick of paint and it's nice to see such a venture thriving. The bar area wasn't open as we passed but we got ourselves a coffee to take away from the adjacent café, part of the same building. Right next door was Auld Wemyss Ways - a small heritage centre open 12-3 Friday to Sunday. It was the first time I'd managed to catch the place with the doors open so I strolled right in. Curator Tom Moffet is originally an Armadale man, now resident in West Wemyss. He set up the museum single-handedly nine years ago and proudly informed us he hasn't had a single day without any visitors calling. Most of the artefacts within are related to the mining industry. Tom joked that as an ex-roofer he spent a lifetime working high above ground and now runs a museum dedicated to the men who toiled below the surface. I had a good look around and browsed a few ring binders containing old photos of the village. Although the pits here have been gone for over 100 years, the winding gear of the Frances Colliery at nearby Dysart - retained as a monument - is easily visible from the harbour on a high ridge of land. The Fife Coastal Path passes right by this remnant of the industry that once dominated the county. Frances (known locally as the Dubbie) closed in 1988 along with Seafield, a little further along the coast. They were among the last deep mines operating in Scotland. I asked Tom if he thought these final closures were ordered out of spite, following the bitter nationwide miners strike of the mid-80s. He didn't agree, instead pointing out that it was proving far cheaper to import coal from countries like Romania and South Africa, rather than tap the still-vast reserves over here. In short, we had loads of the black stuff but it was too damned dear to dig it out. With the Conservative government refusing to grant subsidies, the future of the industry was doomed. Deep mining in Scotland finally came to an end in 2002 when Longannet was disastrously flooded. Fortunately there were no human casualties.
I was rather surprised to spot a commemorative plate for Valleyfield Colliery in one of the display cases. This pit (closed 1978) is local to me in West Fife but West Wemyss is a bit out of its jurisdiction. On closer inspection, I saw other objects relating to Fife mining well beyond the parish limits of Wemyss and it was nice to see the whole Kingdom represented. I posted my plate picture on the West Fife Woodlands Group, which also features local history and it drew a favourable response. Some people had the same plate in their possession and photos of it hanging proudly in the Valley Bar were shown. We headed back to the harbour for one last look out to sea and were rewarded with the sight of long-tailed ducks bobbing on the waves. I also saw many cormorants, a strange skeletal bird that periodically sits on a rock and hangs its wings out to dry. Apparently they aren't blessed with waterproof feathers. All part of nature's tapestry.
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