LEJOG Day 71: Falkirk to Kilsyth

Weather: Partly cloudy with fresh westerly and showers

Distance covered today: 22.7km (14.1mi)

Last night's B&B: Cladhan Hotel (£55)

Cumulative distance: 1426.3km (886.3mi)/ % Complete: 74.5%

GPS satellite track of today's route: Day 71 (click!)

You know the feeling. You reach into your pocket for something important and it isn’t there. There follows a frantic but fruitless search in all other pockets, and then that sinking feeling as you realise it just isn’t anywhere. It happened to me the other day in a shop when I reached for my wallet. Nothing! Eventually, I found it under my arm where I had obviously put it while trying to juggle walking poles and purchases. This morning, it was my camera, and this time, I just couldn’t understand its absence. I had checked the room thoroughly before leaving. Could I have left it in the pub last night? I had no alternative but to turn around and go back to the hotel, about twenty minutes away. Apparently, it had been mixed up in the bed-cover which I had folded up on going to sleep last night. They had already found it and they handed it over to me with a flourish! Phew!!

Given that I have reduced my possessions to the absolute minimum, I am constantly having to be on my guard that I don’t lose something vital and my general track record of being completely absent-minded isn’t helping. For instance, I have seven cables/chargers for my various electronic bits and pieces. The electrical sockets are often concealed under the bed or in a cupboard, so I could easily forget one. I routinely count each one into a Stuffit bag every morning. I have a host of similar tricks of my new trade, and until this morning, they seemed to be working! I will have to be even more vigilant in future!

After the early excitement, my stroll along the Union Canal continued, with considerably greater interest than before. Finding the canal was itself a challenge. It disappeared into a tunnel beneath Falkirk and I walked right over it, fortunately seeing a sign-post before I had gone too far! I then passed the very first lock that I have encountered all the way from Edinburgh, only to encounter a second tunnel and then the famous “Falkirk Wheel”. This amazing civil engineering contraption physically lifts narrow-boats 35 metres (115 ft.) from the Forth and Clyde Canal to the Union Canal, so that narrow-boats can make the trip all the way from Edinburgh to Glasgow. Originally the canals were connected by 11 locks through Falkirk, but these fell into disuse and were finally replaced by housing in the 1930s.

The Falkirk Wheel was built as a Millennium Project and was officially opened by the Queen in 2002.  As a part of the entire Edinburgh to Glasgow canal refurbishment project, it has won many design awards and is now a significant tourist attraction. It also seems to me the most idiotic waste of money that I have seen so far on my journey! There is absolutely no demand for it!  In fact the only use seems to be to lift a tourist boat from the lower canal to the upper canal for a twenty minute journey along the canal and back! I wondered whether there might be more narrow-boats on the Forth and Clyde Canal, but in the 20km (12mi) stretch to Kilsyth, I saw precisely one narrow-boat actually using the canal!  I asked a number of officials in the visitor centre who had paid for the wheel, and they were, unsurprisingly, rather defensive about the question, but most suggested that the Lottery Fund had provided much of the money. I have since looked it up on the web to discover that the wheel itself cost £17.5m and the canal refurbishment as a whole cost £84.5m. My informants were being a little economical with the truth as the Lottery Fund provided only £32m of this total. The rest must be public money.  I do appreciate that I really don’t have all the facts, so my view may be a bit distorted, but on a day when the unions are out on strike because they regard the new pension arrangements as unacceptable, it makes me wonder in my Curmudgeonly way how the use of public money on white elephants such as this can possibly be justified!

Talking of which, I had a drink last evening with David and Joyce. David is an electrical technician currently working on the final completion of a hospital construction project and Joyce has a job at Job-Centre Plus, the government employment agency. I was delighted to meet them both, and found them most interesting to talk to. They are both keen travellers preferring to go to warm climates and especially to the US, but they are running out of places to which to go. I tried to persuade them that South Africa was an option, especially in the northern winter, but they clearly feel that the risks are still considerable. I attempted to put their minds at ease. It is interesting though that their considerable travel experience had broadened their minds, something that was immediately obvious.

They can do all this travelling because, like many couples I have met on this journey, they have decided not to have children. I suppose that long-distance walkers are more likely to be childless than the general public, which is why I have met so many, but I have been struck by their views that the short-term sacrifices are in their opinion not worth the long-term benefits. I guess this is the very calculation which is affecting birth-rates in all developed societies, but it is nevertheless interesting to meet so many people who have made this decision and whose views on the subject are remarkably similar. But it won’t help on the pensions front for society in general!

Not that Joyce and David don’t have their own problems. It is in the nature of David’s work that he will have to travel to the next contract and this is increasingly looking like the revamp of an old Heathrow terminal, something that would temporarily separate Joyce and David, as her job is hardly mobile. Joyce has her own problems in that she is today out on strike with the rest of the public service unions over the pensions issue. I asked her whether she thought they would get anywhere and she replied that they didn’t really think so, but that the government might bend a little if really pushed. She said that she hadn’t had an increase in six years, and she was fed up with all the media reporting that life in the public sector was so cushy.

On the way back to my hotel, I did reflect on the fact that the news is also full of all the closures of retail businesses across the country, with all the concomitant job losses. Maybe it’s my age, but I do wonder sometimes if people really understand the depth of this country’s economic problems. Be that as it may, David and Joyce bought me a drink last evening and refused to allow me to reciprocate. Yet again, I can’t help celebrating the wonderful generosity I have encountered from so many strangers on this journey. I feel very privileged.

The entrance to the Union Canal in its tunnel under Falkirk

A brand new tunnel under the Antonine Wall approaching the Falkirk Wheel

A view of the Wheel from above

A sculpture of a cat in front of the Wheel. The business end is at the far end!

The beautiful supporting columns

Looked at end-on. It looks like a demented duck! The sloping structure on the left is the visitor centre

The Wheel in operation. Although it can't be seen, there is a tourist boat in the bucket on the left and the whole wheel is rotating so that it is elevated to the top level

Towns viewed as I walked the canal. They looked new and comfortable

Ditto!

The new M80. Another howling monster, heading for Glasgow.

The pristine Forth and Clyde Canal. It gradually got broader and broader as it went straight as an arrow through an ancient marsh where they found the skeletons of horses and men drowned in the middle of an ancient battle. No canal traffic, though.

A couple of swans and their cygnets appreciating the taxpayers' largesse

LEJOG Day 70: Linlithgow to Falkirk

Weather: Cloudy and warm with fresh westerly

Distance covered today: 12.3km (7.6mi)

Last night's B&B: Aran House (£35)

Cumulative distance: 1403.6km (872.2mi)/ % Complete: 73.4%

GPS satellite track of today's route: Day 70 (click!)

After yesterday’s hectic chase, things today were much quieter. Falkirk was just a short stretch down the Union Canal and I made it by lunch-time, allowing me the opportunity to go in search of the Antonine Wall, the most northerly of the permanent, defensive structures erected by the Romans. It was erected on the orders of Antonius Pius who apparently wanted to outdo Hadrian, but it hardly survived his death as the Romans started withdrawing southwards and the Roman Empire began its long decline. I found some of it in the grounds of Callendar House, which happened also to have an exhibition on the Wall on show at the time. The wall itself no longer exists and at Callendar House, all that remains is the ditch the Romans dug on the northern side of the wall. The construction looked much like Offa’s efforts with his dykes far to the South, but it was interesting nevertheless to see what remains.  I have thought a lot about the Roman Legionaries as I marched all the way up here from Hadrian’s Wall, often on Roman Roads such as Dere Street. They must have wondered what on earth they were doing here?

The thing that really interested me today was the continuing phenomenon of the Union Canal. In two days of walking, a distance of just less than 30miles (50km), along a magnificently restored canal in peak condition, I saw precisely two narrow-boats! One of them was not even a genuine narrow-boat, just a tub offering café-style luncheons on board to the elderly. We’re talking peak season here! It’s the end of June, the midges haven’t arrived (or at least they haven’t arrived here), and there’s nobody on the canals. And yet millions must have been spent on restoring this canal. I saw new bridges constructed to elevate roads over the canal, and beautifully preserved aqueducts. I haven’t yet even reached the Falkirk Wheel, of which, more tomorrow. It wouldn’t take much of an accountant to work out the real cost of the lone narrow-boat holiday that I saw on the canal. If its recipients had been asked to pay it, they might have preferred to take a commercial space flight instead and saved some money on the side! I can only speculate whether the planners got their demand forecasts wrong, or whether they believe things will pick up in time. It’s a fact that a number of cyclists and walkers were using the tow-path, though I’m sure there are far cheaper ways of establishing cycle-paths, such as the ubiquitous disused railway-lines. Either way, I was the grateful recipient of the tax-payers largesse and it certainly made for pleasant walking.

As I approached Falkirk, things became increasingly urban, and I passed between one of Her Majesty’s Institution’s for Young Offenders and a giant 24hr Tesco, sure signs that my sojourn in outer space was ending with a jolt. I passed cemeteries and used car garages, junk yards and small holdings, and of course the huge oil refinery, chemical plants and industrial complexes of Grangemouth, just beyond Falkirk. There were also plenty of housing estates, all in seemingly very good condition. Again, it’s too early to judge, but my first impression is that economic circumstances north of the border aren’t as bad as I had been led to expect. Although I am aware that this isn’t yet Glasgow, I am beginning to think that there is a stark contrast with the industrial wasteland of Avonmouth which so depressed me earlier in my journey. By a curious coincidence, the river which flows through Grangemouth is also called the River Avon. I didn’t know there were two of them!

To get into Falkirk via Callendar House and the surrounding Callendar Wood, I had to be a little adventurous, using unclear paths and some guesswork based on my increasing understanding of how they do things here in Scotland. It involved amongst other things, using a river tunnel under a railway line, where I anticipated there would be a ledge along one edge which would allow me to get through without wading! I was right, which was lucky as I would otherwise have faced a significant detour.

I am becoming increasingly confident in these decisions but as I strolled through Callendar Wood, I reflected on a situation where I was anything but confident. It happened many years ago on a business trip to Japan. At the time, I was visiting a number of marine engine manufacturers to discuss a new sort of fuel that we were introducing to the marine market. This involved going to some of Japan’s most industrialised cities, where there were few tourist facilities and certainly a complete absence of any signage in western script. I was being looked after by a Japanese minder who could speak a little English, but who was playing a very passive role. As I wandered down a street through the centre of a substantial city, I suddenly realised that I had lost him. I don’t know which of us wasn’t paying attention, but one minute he was there and the next, gone!
 
At first I wasn’t too concerned, but as I looked around, I realised I couldn’t understand a thing. I had no idea what a police-station looked like. I stopped some people to try to talk to them, but they couldn’t of course speak any English and were either irritated or alarmed by this foreigner trying to gain their attention. I realised I wouldn’t even be able to find my way to a station, let alone buy a ticket and how on earth would I guess where the train was going? I wandered round in a daze, wondering what to do. The only plan I could think of was to stage a fit and fall to the ground frothing at the mouth! That would surely attract the authorities and at least I would have a bed for the night! Before I could put my plan into action, my minder reappeared, looking flustered and embarrassed and all was well!  He had probably picked up the news that there was a mad foreigner up the way, trying to accost passers-by!  Neither of us took our eyes off each other for the remainder of the trip!

I remember a number of further incidents and embarrassments from my Japanese experiences, but more of those later. For the present, I am just revelling being in a foreign country, where they speak a form of English, (though it must be said, the closer I get to Glasgow, the more I have to concentrate!)  Perhaps it’s the refinery down the road, but I do feel at home! At the same time, away, on an unusual business trip. Strange feeling!

There were some benefits to walking back to the B&B in the late evening: stunning colour!

And stunning sunsets!

A new bridge over the canal; beautiful in a modern way, but is it worth it?

Another angular and attractive new bridge. The same design, but the same question??? What is the economic justification?

Industrial Grangemouth! It may not be pretty, but those are valuable jobs. Will they last?

At last, some youngsters using the canal, but do they pay for it?

At Her Majesty's pleasure, for young offenders. It looked forbidding and there were plenty of CCTV cameras. I snuck a picture anyway and wondered whether the plod would come calling, but no!

My path off the beaten track towards Callendar Wood

Callendar Wood

Callendar House

The ditch at the Antonine Wall

The first tenements of my Scottish experience. They seem to me like people cupboards. Store them inside and hope they stay there....

LEJOG Day 69: Riccarton to Linlithgow

Weather: Sunny and hot with refreshing south-wester

Distance covered today: 30.8km (19.1mi)

Last night's B&B: Heriot Watt University (£43.50)

Cumulative distance: 1391.3km (864.5mi)/ % Complete: 72.7%

GPS satellite track of today's route: Day 69 (click!)

Where did that come from?  There I was complacently looking forward to a restful walk along the Union Canal to the nearby town of Linlithgow. I should have looked more clearly at the maps!  It was another case of using Google Maps to plot the B&Bs and then plotting the actual route with the OS maps when they eventually arrived. I did have a brief initial look at the OS maps, and I failed to notice that there wasn’t a single lock between Riccarton and Linlithgow. The only way the engineers could have achieved that was by wandering all over the geography, and they did that with a vengeance! It turned out to be the second longest walk of my journey so far!  At one point I was heading directly towards John O’Groats, but exactly away from tonight’s B&B, finding myself actually getting further away from JOG with every step towards it!
 
On top of that, it was hot and sultry and I found that my victory celebration in the Battle of the Little Toes was somewhat premature!  The Boots have staged a sneaky comeback. They waited until the Compeed thought it had done its work and removed itself. Then they pounced! I immediately applied new strips in the hope of arresting the situation, but I fear that the damage has already been done! Watch this space for further match reports!

And to cap my displeasure on this disagreeable day, I had taken the trouble to phone tonight’s B&B, which I had seen from the grid reference was well outside the town, to find out whether there was somewhere in the locality I could walk to in order to get a pint and a bite to eat for tea. I was assured there was! When I got there, I was told that it would involve a four mile (6km) round-trip hike down to the village!  No lift was offered! I’m writing this in the pub and I’m delighted to say that the pint in front of me is both anaesthetising my painful little toes and making me feel better about the long trek back up the hill after supper!

It could of course have been so much worse!  The spectacular weather lifted everyone’s spirits along the way. I was amazed how many people were out walking, running and cycling along the canal.  I had become used to the rather dark and dour expression of the average Scotsman that I pass along the way, but today was a revelation!  Everyone was smiling!  I was amused that the weather was the only topic of conversation. The most common comment was “Nice one for it, no?” Generally that was the only comment but the really chatty ones would add “Probably change by tamorra!” To be fair, this was mainly from old men. Youngsters were either too involved in their iPods or too scared of potentially nasty perverts to engage in any conversation at all. At one point, as I was applying Compeed with my socks and boots off, a public servant with a strimmer was approaching, laying waste to the summer growth. His colleague spotted me and tried to persuade the strimmer to cease and desist for fear of injuring me. I couldn’t hear the conversation, but there was lots of effing and blinding and the strimmer wasn’t at all deterred. I hastily donned my boots and moved on, thinking that public servants in Scotland view service as a privilege for the recipient!

I was also impressed to see that the canal was in excellent repair, the very best I have seen anywhere on my journey.  I saw a notice informing me that the money was coming from British Waterways, effectively supported by English taxpayers, and the European Union Development Fund. I was just beginning to become a little jaundiced in my view of the Scots in the Edinburgh/Glasgow corridor when I met a few delightful walkers and I decided it was too early for generalisations!

The thing about canal paths is they are mesmeric. Not a lot changes compared to the excitements of my last few adventurous days. It allows time to think, and if there is anything I have learned on this trip, it is that walking is not a good activity for thinking!  There is generally just too much going on. Today though, was different, partly because I was out there for so long, but mostly because of the peaceful, undemanding canal towpath. I got to thinking about Kelly who I had met much earlier on the journey and who had delightfully and unexpectedly commented on yesterday’s post. Kelly comes from Washington DC, and she made me think about my own memories of that capital city.

Many years ago in 1968, as an exchange student, I had converged on DC on a Greyhound coach, along with thousands of others for a celebration of international brotherhood after our year in the US. We had all been allocated families to stay with and, as a South African, I had been assigned to stay with the Rhodesian High Commissioner.  Those were the days of UDI, and I was fascinated to get the inside story. Hardly had I arrived though than I was told that all the students were going to the DC Stadium for a grand celebration of the youth of the world. More than a thousand of us attended.  I was astounded to hear the Indian delegation argue in plenary that everyone was welcome except the South Africans, who should be required to leave. There was no vote, but the US organisers, sensing an ugly atmosphere, came to me and suggested I leave. I was mortified. I wanted to know why nobody was even interested in what I thought about the situation in South Africa. But I did understand that the Indians had a point, and I left.

I told the Rhodesian High Commissioner about it after my early exit, and he was, in retrospect understandably, hugely incensed. He questioned the decision on constitutional grounds and I understand that there is a reference to his diplomatic intervention on the Congressional Record, though I have personally never seen it and I’m sure he wouldn’t have referred to me by name. I remember him as a thoroughly decent man, representing a regime that became increasingly illegitimate and desperate. It was ultimately responsible for reprehensible acts of terror, but it was no worse than the current government of Zimbabwe.

In those days, I was still dealing in absolute philosophical and political truths.  I had the Jesuits to thank for that.  It was hugely demoralising to find myself branded on the basis of the colour of my skin and my nationality in exactly the way against which I was fighting.  I thought that was an aberration. I have discovered after many years of experience that in most parts of the world, it is the norm.

I must be careful that I do not commit the same calumny on the Scots! 

My B&B for last night. An interesting experience!

I went in search of Silicon Glen. I wasn't too impressed at what I found. The research park looked American in design but uninspiring in aspiration. I was though, looking at the outside. I gave up and headed for the canal...

A statue commemorating the original canal transport. Those horses must have been strong and long-suffering

Today's canal: beautiful and peaceful

The M7.  Another snarling, irritable conduit. It did, though, empty the A-roads! 

A housing estate in Broxburn. The one unifying context throughout the entire United Kingdom is the postie delivering the post! Long may it continue...

A bridge on the canal. It shows the impact on the bridge stones of ropes drawn by horses hauling the longboats in times gone by.

They were drinking a fine Chenin Blanc. For once, with my sore feet, I would have liked to change places!

I find these bridges endlessly beautiful

She certainly got about! When Queen Liz topped her, she should have realised that the Scots would bear a grudge! I had no idea that it would be so widespread!

An enormous dovecote without expanation. But there were lots of doves!

Back to the canal, still in the evening air

LEJOG Day 68: Carlops to Riccarton

Weather: Cloudy, then drizzle, then rain

Distance covered today: 21.0km (12.5mi)

Last night's B&B: Alan Ramsay Hotel (£47.50)

Cumulative distance: 1360.5km (845.4mi)/ % Complete: 71.1%

GPS satellite track of today's route: Day 68 (click!)

The first objective of the day was to get across the Pentland Hills.  The weather forecast was not encouraging and I was concerned about a low cloud base and unclear paths. The forecast suggested the weather would close in as the morning wore on, so I was at pains to leave as early as possible. I did though need to have breakfast as there would be nowhere to get anything to eat for the first half of the walk and I had exhausted all my reserve supplies of nibbles. I sat alone in the dining room waiting for the staff to show up! They were late, and then they took ages to get their act together, so having been awake and raring to go at 5.00am, I only managed to get away at a rather frustrating 09:00.

I set about choosing the right path to get to the top of the Pentland Hills. I had taken loads of local advice yesterday, but it was not conclusive. Everyone had an opinion, but no-one had actually completed the leg to the towns on the other side, which is not entirely surprising. As local residents, they preferred to choose circular routes that would take them back home. They were all adamant though, that the path was well defined and way-marked. I set off on an immediate steep ascent without any issues, through beautiful countryside. Before long though, the path became confused with a number of animal tracks leading off in different directions. Inevitably I chose the wrong one and eventually wound up at an electrified fence with no style or gate.  I tried to use my metal walking poles to test whether the fence was live, but eventually just tested it with my hand and was relieved to find that it wasn’t live!   I found a place to jump the fence and went on my way, only for the whole process to be repeated once again.  This time, I had to contend with barbed wire and an electrified fence, but in due course I found my way across.

Eventually, I was high enough to be above the animal fields, and the path definition steadily improved. Now my problem was bog! I shouldn’t have been surprised. The moors looked very similar to those that I had encountered on the Pennine Way. My progress was very slow. I was determined not to get immersed in mud and water, so I proceeded carefully. I am gradually beginning to recognise the grasses of the bogs. Some grasses always seem to be associated with solid underpinnings, especially the grass with the white pom-pom flower heads, whereas others are decidedly iffy!  This helps in plotting a course through uncharted territory, but when following a path, you just have to take the rough with the smooth, and go carefully!

I reached the summit without further incident and was rewarded with the most glorious of vistas. The rain was still holding off and the visibility was fair with a reasonably high cloud base. To my right and towards the north-east, I could see the Firth of Forth. To my left and towards the north-west I got my first glimpse of what I am reasonably certain are the West Highlands, about four or five days march away in the distance. I had also moved out of the Borders County into what I think is Midlothian. I could see below me the whole Edinburgh-Glasgow Lowland Plain and I had a sense of yet another chapter of my journey opening.

The way down the other side of the Pentland Hills was uneventful. The path was well marked and soon turned into a track, which sometimes over the boggy bits consisted of transverse logs, not all that easy to walk on, but a lot easier than the bogs themselves!  Farmland returned and before long I was on the edge of Edinburgh’s affluent suburbs. By now it was raining steadily and the cloud base completely obscured the hills over which I had so recently trundled. I had lunch amongst a bunch of school kids in a Co-op next to a school, under the careful gaze of a posse of security officers, but yet again I had forgotten my walking polls next to the till as I had paid. A kindly old lady spotted me sitting on a pile of fertilizer pockets chewing a sandwich amongst the kids, and I was reunited with my invaluable poles! You would have thought that I would have learned by now!

My post-prandial exercise was to walk along on yet another disused railway line along the edge of the Leith River, until turning northwards towards my rather unusual lodging for the night, the student accommodation at Heriot Watt University.  I have just had an economic and suitably tasteless supper in the main administration dining room along with a large group of students, and the only thing that I could see that they had in common was that not a single one of them was English-speaking, let alone Scottish!  It is of course university vac, so the main body of students will be well away, but still, I was surprised. Surely at the very least there should be a few local graduate students and researchers around?

I can’t help wondering where all the innovation, design and sophisticated marketing are going to come from if we continue to be so complacent about education in this country. The squabble over university fees for me misses the point. It’s about who pays for education, the recipients or the beneficiaries and the answer is simple; both should pay. But the real question in a fast changing world is how can Britain make an epochal, step change in the quality and output of most of its learning institutions and how can it shake its young people out of their complacency that the state will provide? The steady migration of high value and innovative activity eastwards is only accelerating. I remember seeing “red” Chinese in Teddington when we lived there in the mid-80s. They travelled in groups and could speak no English, but they were already studying how the British added value. I saw a number of Chinese students today in Heriot-Watt University (the eight oldest educational establishment in the UK!), and they conversed in sophisticated English. I suspect they were not studying British technology. They are probably aware that Chinese technology is already seizing the high ground. They are probably doing what the Americans did before them; treating Britain as a theme-park of the past and attending Shakespeare productions.

That will not employ the masses who no longer have the traditional jobs in the great industrial hinterland that I will be visiting over the next few days.  It will be interesting to see what they are doing now….

Kilts visiting my B&B for drinks last night!

Imagine having a full-scale natural waterfall in your front garden!

Looking down at the Scroggy Brae from the path above Carlops

Looking back at the Cloich Hills, my obstacles on the last leg

A black butterfly for Julian. It had white tipped wings. It wouldn't sit still for the photo-shoot so I couldn't get closer!

The Fairliehope Burn down a vertical slope, topped by purple heather

A reservoir near the top of the pass, with thousands of unidentified white birds making an awful din

Back into the bog!

The white pom-pom grasses signify sure, grassy footing

A proper Scottish thistle!

The Scottish equivalent of the granite slabs of the Pennine Way; transverse wooden logs

That tiny white sliver half-way up the picture is the Firth of Forth

And the mountains in the distance are, I believe, the West Highlands, at full zoom!

He used to be White-Van-Man until he saw red! The adjustment was certainly expertly done!

The disused railway along the River Leith

And finally, my unusual B&B for the night!