malodian
Guest
Log of my second Sojourning, Tuesday 11th October 2016
Another fine day, very autumnal, sharp air first thing under clear skies, then the sun rises and boy is it beautiful my kind of weather. The leaves that had hung limp on the trees here in town are now torn free in a strong southern wind, to dance unrehearsed and as I type the holy tree outside my window are massed with bright red berries.
Trees devoid of leaves looking rather forlorn,
Casualties of frost and autumn storm,
But one remaining to delight,
Leaved green as emeralds,
Red berries bright.
I then Spent the morning down at the van, hovering and tiding ready for the off, I had asked Trent to come down with his estate car and take away all the rubbish that had accumulated outside the van. The afternoon I spent at home gathering all that I wish to take with me, pilling them onto an ever growing heap in the corner of the living room. Finding out that my in car radio has a CD slot was a revelation, so CDs were top of my must take list, Mozart, music to drive by, and some blues along with a sprinkling of the late great, Eva Cassidy.
One of my biggest mistakes was made when I was just 16 years old, I part exchanged my 350cc 1932 Royal Enfield for a 175cc BSA Bantam Super Major. At that time we motorcyclists gathered at Mary's Café, (The Glen Café) in Charmers Street Dunfermline, “One coffee and three straws, please”. Over the years I did many miles on that little bike in and around Fife and Kinross. One regular stopping off place was Scotland Wells, however it was not until I became interested in Scotland’s history and in particular “On the trail of Robert the Bruce” following in the footsteps of David Ross that I found that in1306 Aymer de Valence, captured Bishop Lambert there so I would call in at Scotland Wells this trip.
I would be passing through Cupar and it is worth mentioning that around that time it was Wishart who captured Cupar castle, nothing now remains but it was on the site of what is School Hill. He himself was also captured by Aymer de Valence, Edwards lieutenant in Scotland, and equally ruthless to his master. After Scotland Wells I travelled up through Glenfarg and on to Methven.
It was in mid June when Bruce approached Perth a heavily walled town at that time and challenged Valence, come out and fight or surrender the town. Valence replied that being Sunday lets leave the fighting until tomorrow, Bruce taking him at his word moved to Methven a few miles west of Perth and set up camp. Valence men burst into their camp without warning and it turned into all but a rout Bruce managed to escape with his life but lost many good men. This was a low point for Bruce. There is nothing to see here now but if you listen hard you can still hear echoes of the past. Bruce and those that had survived made their way to Inchaffray where there found sanctuary with Abbot Maurice.
At Gilmerton I headed up into the Sma' Glen and set up camp in this beautiful glen by the crystal waters of the Almond. The Sma' Glen has been used since man's understanding as a highway linking the highlands with the lowlands, the main road from Inverness to Edinburgh, and used much by drovers to bring their cattle to the markets at Crieff and all places south. They tell of the times when thirty thousand cattle would pass through this glen each year, and how the lowing of the beasts could be heard for miles around, a strong aroma too I would imagine the two large hotels that once serviced the passing trade have been redeveloped one now a modern art gallery. There was an information board in the car park, tells how the inhabitants went off to find a better life, many Scottish historians would take issue with that. In truth they were driven from their ancestral lands by greedy corrupt chieftains who stole the land and at the time of the Napoleonic wars with food need to feed the army they could smell profit. The rents they gained from crofters hardly covered their gambling losses, mutton would bring better reward. The time was known as the Highland Clearances, but was Ethnic Cleansing by any other name. With many young men seconded into the army, doing their bit for the British Empire an euphuism for cannon fodder for the French guns, and with only old men, women and children remaining it was easy work to drive them off their crofts and burn them out so they could not return. This was done under the legalisation of ‘Estate Improvement’ many given eviction notices only had the Gaelic so would not have been able to understand the request and stayed put, this left them open to be forceful and harsh eviction.
Thursday 5th September 2016
The weather still held and I was a short journey up to Aberfeildy a beautiful little town on the banks of the River Tay. I parked up alongside the Black Watch Memorial, and went for a wander around the town. The old cinema has been converted into a café leisure centre still retaining an auditorium and outside a board proclaiming the film that would be showing that day and a small notice announcing an open music night hold me back. Back at base I made lunch then set off to cycle up to the Birks of Aberfeildy, a glen with picnic area and footpaths throughout the wood and following the burn that cascades down a number of falls. I was surprised by the number of families out enjoying this pleasant weather, and a great number of campervans too; the superb weather had brought them out like Livingston daisies in the summer sun.
The music night was very special; fiddlers and accordion players, like stepping back in time to the Fiddlers Rallies that once graced our television screens. Then we had folk songs, old favourites such as the Streets of London, newer rendering of Bogle ‘One small star’, flute solos, vocalists from Burns to Dundee folk, a young girl gave us Beethoven and Brahms on the electronic piano, set to sound like a harpsichord. Most played two or thee instrument and one very dexterity player the fiddle, guitar, mandolin, and superbly the banjo, with us all singing along to his medley of banjo music including his interpretation of ‘Grandfathers Clock’. Real unadulterated talent, and what do we get on our televisions now, X factor, people given air time at great expense, whose talent would not extend to getting a pint in a pub.
Friday and another sort journey up over the hill and down into Tummel Bridge, named after the old Wade Bridge that crosses the river at this point. I made camp in the Forestry Commission car park and set off for the dam that feeds the hydro power station near to the bridge. It is an easy climb up the forestry track and onto the metal road that follows the aqueduct carries water from the dam to the turbine hall. The aqueduct snakes it way rather than a strait flow, possibly to stop a surge of water. Reversing my footsteps at the dam I passed my entry point and followed the aqueduct to its conclusion where it enters huge pipes that carry the water down to the turbine hall. The water in the canal seems genteel enough but when you see it exit at the turbine hall and back into the river you get some idea of the volumes of water involved.
Saturday I was slow to get moving, after breakfast I started packing my case with bedding and cloths and cleaning up the van for the homeward journey. Travelling over the Queens View then Pitlochry where I stopped for a stroll. Kindrogan, Bridge of Cally, Blairgowrie, Rattray and on down to Perth, I had chosen to go via Blairgowrie hopping to seen the Beech Hedges in autumn colour but alas I was too early, but impressive enough in any season.
The van never missed a beat and I am finding it a pleasure to drive, even the kerbs don’t jump out at my back wheels anymore. It was never cold enough to light the stove in earnest but I loved to kindle it at night and lie on my bunk crooning away to myself, as I watched the flames dance their way around bulkhead and cabin roof. There is something magical about a living fire, flames roaring up the lum and wood crackling, cast iron glowing cherry red in the darkness, I better watch it could become habit forming.
Travelling home there was a strong smell of diesel in the cab, I pulled into a lay by and found one of the return pipes from the injectors was spraying diesel everywhere, I tried unsuccessfully to stop it, finally wrapping it in insulation tape but the diesel simply dissolved the glue, but did stop much of the flow, so cleaning down the engine and fixing the return pipe my next task. One other modification I will have to do is to the small stove, it is so efficient at burning wood that it would take a full time stoker along with a sawmill to keep it going. I found an old paint tin lid and put it over the bars in the bottom of the stove, this helped reduce the air flow and put a heart in the fire, so more job to add to the list, but then this is what all these shake down runs are about.
Home once more, I switched on the television for the news and I found I was not ready for the world of television, more so when all I heard was what Trump said and what Clinton said in response. Millions of dollars spent in electing a president from one of the two most disliked and unsuitable people on the planet. Afternoon television on the BBC is still the best cure for insomnia known to man.
Another fine day, very autumnal, sharp air first thing under clear skies, then the sun rises and boy is it beautiful my kind of weather. The leaves that had hung limp on the trees here in town are now torn free in a strong southern wind, to dance unrehearsed and as I type the holy tree outside my window are massed with bright red berries.
Trees devoid of leaves looking rather forlorn,
Casualties of frost and autumn storm,
But one remaining to delight,
Leaved green as emeralds,
Red berries bright.
I then Spent the morning down at the van, hovering and tiding ready for the off, I had asked Trent to come down with his estate car and take away all the rubbish that had accumulated outside the van. The afternoon I spent at home gathering all that I wish to take with me, pilling them onto an ever growing heap in the corner of the living room. Finding out that my in car radio has a CD slot was a revelation, so CDs were top of my must take list, Mozart, music to drive by, and some blues along with a sprinkling of the late great, Eva Cassidy.
One of my biggest mistakes was made when I was just 16 years old, I part exchanged my 350cc 1932 Royal Enfield for a 175cc BSA Bantam Super Major. At that time we motorcyclists gathered at Mary's Café, (The Glen Café) in Charmers Street Dunfermline, “One coffee and three straws, please”. Over the years I did many miles on that little bike in and around Fife and Kinross. One regular stopping off place was Scotland Wells, however it was not until I became interested in Scotland’s history and in particular “On the trail of Robert the Bruce” following in the footsteps of David Ross that I found that in1306 Aymer de Valence, captured Bishop Lambert there so I would call in at Scotland Wells this trip.
I would be passing through Cupar and it is worth mentioning that around that time it was Wishart who captured Cupar castle, nothing now remains but it was on the site of what is School Hill. He himself was also captured by Aymer de Valence, Edwards lieutenant in Scotland, and equally ruthless to his master. After Scotland Wells I travelled up through Glenfarg and on to Methven.
It was in mid June when Bruce approached Perth a heavily walled town at that time and challenged Valence, come out and fight or surrender the town. Valence replied that being Sunday lets leave the fighting until tomorrow, Bruce taking him at his word moved to Methven a few miles west of Perth and set up camp. Valence men burst into their camp without warning and it turned into all but a rout Bruce managed to escape with his life but lost many good men. This was a low point for Bruce. There is nothing to see here now but if you listen hard you can still hear echoes of the past. Bruce and those that had survived made their way to Inchaffray where there found sanctuary with Abbot Maurice.
At Gilmerton I headed up into the Sma' Glen and set up camp in this beautiful glen by the crystal waters of the Almond. The Sma' Glen has been used since man's understanding as a highway linking the highlands with the lowlands, the main road from Inverness to Edinburgh, and used much by drovers to bring their cattle to the markets at Crieff and all places south. They tell of the times when thirty thousand cattle would pass through this glen each year, and how the lowing of the beasts could be heard for miles around, a strong aroma too I would imagine the two large hotels that once serviced the passing trade have been redeveloped one now a modern art gallery. There was an information board in the car park, tells how the inhabitants went off to find a better life, many Scottish historians would take issue with that. In truth they were driven from their ancestral lands by greedy corrupt chieftains who stole the land and at the time of the Napoleonic wars with food need to feed the army they could smell profit. The rents they gained from crofters hardly covered their gambling losses, mutton would bring better reward. The time was known as the Highland Clearances, but was Ethnic Cleansing by any other name. With many young men seconded into the army, doing their bit for the British Empire an euphuism for cannon fodder for the French guns, and with only old men, women and children remaining it was easy work to drive them off their crofts and burn them out so they could not return. This was done under the legalisation of ‘Estate Improvement’ many given eviction notices only had the Gaelic so would not have been able to understand the request and stayed put, this left them open to be forceful and harsh eviction.
Thursday 5th September 2016
The weather still held and I was a short journey up to Aberfeildy a beautiful little town on the banks of the River Tay. I parked up alongside the Black Watch Memorial, and went for a wander around the town. The old cinema has been converted into a café leisure centre still retaining an auditorium and outside a board proclaiming the film that would be showing that day and a small notice announcing an open music night hold me back. Back at base I made lunch then set off to cycle up to the Birks of Aberfeildy, a glen with picnic area and footpaths throughout the wood and following the burn that cascades down a number of falls. I was surprised by the number of families out enjoying this pleasant weather, and a great number of campervans too; the superb weather had brought them out like Livingston daisies in the summer sun.
The music night was very special; fiddlers and accordion players, like stepping back in time to the Fiddlers Rallies that once graced our television screens. Then we had folk songs, old favourites such as the Streets of London, newer rendering of Bogle ‘One small star’, flute solos, vocalists from Burns to Dundee folk, a young girl gave us Beethoven and Brahms on the electronic piano, set to sound like a harpsichord. Most played two or thee instrument and one very dexterity player the fiddle, guitar, mandolin, and superbly the banjo, with us all singing along to his medley of banjo music including his interpretation of ‘Grandfathers Clock’. Real unadulterated talent, and what do we get on our televisions now, X factor, people given air time at great expense, whose talent would not extend to getting a pint in a pub.
Friday and another sort journey up over the hill and down into Tummel Bridge, named after the old Wade Bridge that crosses the river at this point. I made camp in the Forestry Commission car park and set off for the dam that feeds the hydro power station near to the bridge. It is an easy climb up the forestry track and onto the metal road that follows the aqueduct carries water from the dam to the turbine hall. The aqueduct snakes it way rather than a strait flow, possibly to stop a surge of water. Reversing my footsteps at the dam I passed my entry point and followed the aqueduct to its conclusion where it enters huge pipes that carry the water down to the turbine hall. The water in the canal seems genteel enough but when you see it exit at the turbine hall and back into the river you get some idea of the volumes of water involved.
Saturday I was slow to get moving, after breakfast I started packing my case with bedding and cloths and cleaning up the van for the homeward journey. Travelling over the Queens View then Pitlochry where I stopped for a stroll. Kindrogan, Bridge of Cally, Blairgowrie, Rattray and on down to Perth, I had chosen to go via Blairgowrie hopping to seen the Beech Hedges in autumn colour but alas I was too early, but impressive enough in any season.
The van never missed a beat and I am finding it a pleasure to drive, even the kerbs don’t jump out at my back wheels anymore. It was never cold enough to light the stove in earnest but I loved to kindle it at night and lie on my bunk crooning away to myself, as I watched the flames dance their way around bulkhead and cabin roof. There is something magical about a living fire, flames roaring up the lum and wood crackling, cast iron glowing cherry red in the darkness, I better watch it could become habit forming.
Travelling home there was a strong smell of diesel in the cab, I pulled into a lay by and found one of the return pipes from the injectors was spraying diesel everywhere, I tried unsuccessfully to stop it, finally wrapping it in insulation tape but the diesel simply dissolved the glue, but did stop much of the flow, so cleaning down the engine and fixing the return pipe my next task. One other modification I will have to do is to the small stove, it is so efficient at burning wood that it would take a full time stoker along with a sawmill to keep it going. I found an old paint tin lid and put it over the bars in the bottom of the stove, this helped reduce the air flow and put a heart in the fire, so more job to add to the list, but then this is what all these shake down runs are about.
Home once more, I switched on the television for the news and I found I was not ready for the world of television, more so when all I heard was what Trump said and what Clinton said in response. Millions of dollars spent in electing a president from one of the two most disliked and unsuitable people on the planet. Afternoon television on the BBC is still the best cure for insomnia known to man.
