In keeping with my new habit and despite any resolutions I may have had, I am once again writing my first post since last January. This is despite the fact that I have had at least one grid square foray since that one (if anyone has read it, they will remember that I vowed to return to Flisk churchyard - and I did, but I didn't get round to writing a post about it).
Something subconscious must happen every January. I vow to write more, eat less, exercise more, de-clutter, be more creative, more sociable, less anxious . . . . and of course to walk through more gridsquares. So, with plenty of warm clothes and a plotted route on a well-charged phone I set out to conquer a cluster of squares west of Largoward.
I had parked at Largoward Village Hall before 5 years ago on a foray west of the village. How time flies! That had been a similar time of year, but conditions had been less perilous. Today there was ice on the carpark and, it turned out throughout most of my walk. I wished immediately that I had put my spike overboot rubber things on.
I was heading north on a path between fields to what I found out was called The King's Highway (something to do with the fact that coal was transported from mines at Falfield (north-west of the village) to the King's Palace at Falkland. I didn't know this at the time, though, so didn't take a photo. My first photo was of my first new gridsquare NO 4608 where I quickly managed to snap a photo of the B941 between vehicles.
B941 looking north with South Bowhill farm in distance - NO 4608
Thus began what turned out to be a long trek, mainly on roads today, dodging up and down from the verge (which there thankfully always was) and on and off patches of ice. That part of the day was not at all pleasant. At this stage, I was glad to reach South Bowhill Farm where I umm and ahhed for a few seconds before boldly walking up the short track to search for the benchmark I'd plotted there.
"Good morning," I offered to an elderly gentleman who was just about to get into his vehicle. He returned the greeting and walked over to me, which I took to be a good sign. I explained what I was doing. Sometimes people are very proud to show you their benchmarks and I love it when this happens. (It means they've noticed and they tend to know exactly what a benchmark is). Equally I love it when people are inquisitive, as this gentleman was.
"It'll probably be on the corner stone of this building," I explained, casting my eye over the most likely stones as I walked to the other end of the building. "There it is!" exclaimed my new acquaintance and he pointed to a bold as brass benchmark simply crying out for attention, which of course I had missed on my initial round. Telling myself this was beginner's luck, I congratulated him on finding it and, gauging his interest was now piqued, I looked up the OS database to tell him as much as there was to know about his newly discovered hobby (for I'm sure it will turn out to be just that!)
"It's 201.260 m above sea level ("Yes, that'll be about right," he agreed) and 0.5 m above ground level." We both cast our eyes at the cut mark and nodded our heads in unison. Chuffed to bits. he decided he'd wait till spring to take a photo, but I certainly wasn't going to wait that long. I got my required shot and then listened as he told me about some unusual stones in Falfield Bank. I got my phone out to show him my proposed route and he pointed out where these stones were and told me a little of their history. Keep reading to find out . . .
Just as I was warming to the subject, a woman with long hair and quite a long face walked towards us. My new friend backed off a little. Was this his daughter come to see where he'd got to, I wondered? Once again I explained what I was doing there, and, unsure of the relationship between the man and this woman, I decided to go for 'this gentleman's farm' when I talked about the location of the benchmark. Big mistake! No, she wasn't interested in the benchmark, only in the fact that I had mistakenly ascribed ownership of the farm to her tenant. She quickly corrected me and my old man wandered off, tail between his legs and I felt sad. Clearly not very interested in why I was there, she brushed aside my account of benchmarks (all 2 sentences of it) and added that the reason she didn't know it was there was because a trough had been hiding it until very recently. In the words of many young people today, "Whatever!"
Benchmark on South Bowhill Farm building - NO 4508
South Bowhill Farm building - NO 4508
Turning now in the direction Mr definitely not South Bowhill Farm had directed me, I found my way onto what I later discovered was the site of the old mining shafts and works. Glad to be off the road I trudged through hardened snow and ice on a path through a coniferous plantation on the hunt of the rubbing stone. It didn't take me long to find it.
Rubbing Stone in Falfield Bank - NO 4508
Mr South Bowhill Farm had given me an interesting story about these rubbing stones, saying that one stood in every field of the estate and bore details of the name and size of the field in acres.This enabled the farmer to work out how long it would take his horse to plough the field if he knew how many acres his horse could plough per day. If his field was 40 acres and his horse managed 10 acres a day then it would take him a total of four days to plough the entire field etc. At the end of the day the horses used the rubbing stone for exactly that purpose, to have a good scratch!
I love meeting folk who can remember days of yore and provide these stories which are perhaps not recorded elsewhere. Having said that, I could not see anything other than the name written on this stone and the information from Canmore states:
This rubbing stone stands within a clearing in coniferous woodland 240m WSW of Cumberland farmsteading. It is a sandstone pillar measuring about 0.37m square in section with chamfered corners which rise to corbels that support the corners of its weathered pyramidal cap. The pillar stands 1.83m high. An inscription on the S face of the pillar is largely illegible. However, this pillar is one of six depicted on the 1st edition of the OS 6-inch (Fife 1855, Sheets 18 and 19) and noted in the contemporary OS Object Name Book (Fife and Kinross-shire No.21, pp.31-32). By a process of elimination this pillar must have borne the legend ‘MAYFIELD PARK’.
Checking further in the OS Object Name Book, referenced above, it states that the six pillars on the land of Falfield Farm bear the name and number of the field with nothing to do with the size. Still, it makes a nice story.
With the winter sun blazing down, creating jewels of ice crystals and providing some apricity, I could not resist the obvious coffee spot of an old ruin which had gained six inches in height courtesy of recent snow fall, spirit level even. Not wanting to mar this perfect effect, I lay my mat on a rather uncomfortable snow-free corner and got out my flask. Little did I realise I'd tramped right next to an old mine shaft in doing so! I was kind of cautious in my footfall onto snow (I always am), lest I sink further than I ought. Canmore's information states:
All that remains to be seen of this coal mine, which was situated 625m WNW of South Bowhill
(formerly Cumberland farmsteading), are two raised concrete platforms that probably once supported buildings and are situated on the SE side of a grass-grown spoil-tip. This tip measures some 33m from NW to SE by 20m transversely and is up to 1.5m in height on the NE. The Fife Mining website (www.fifepits.co.uk) notes that this pit (Falfield No.1), which was owned by a Thomas Brown, was probably sunk about 1877 to ‘Splint or Gas Coal at a depth of 46 fathoms’. The mine closed about 1891 and it is annotated ‘Old Coal Pit’ on the OS 25-inch map (Fifeshire 1894, Sheet XIV.15).
Coffee spot (mine shaft) on Cumberland Estate (now South Bowhill) NO 4508
I spied another rubbing stone just off the path and trudged off to have a look. Nothing more on this one than there was the last, perhaps a bit more snow!
With the sun still blazing down, I revelled in jewelled ice crystals on otherwise drab vegetation. How snow transforms our world. What is normally drab becomes sequined and sparkly, the cold makes you feel so alive. You can see your breath and feel the cold and hear your footprints. If you're so inclined you could even taste the snow - all of your senses are involved! (Although I concede that not everyone would agree with me on this!) I spent some time getting cold fingers in a quest to photograph this gorgeous wintry scene.
Ice crystals, Falfield Bank - NO 4508
Looking at the time, I realised I had better not dawdle too much at the start of my walk as you never know what's going to happen en route to hold you up. Having said that, I usually find that the walk tends to balance itself out. I seem to generally spend longer at the beginning of a walk either navigating, or taking photographs or just because the terrain is difficult and then I can speed up at a different stage in the walk when the scenery is more monotonous, walking along a busy road for example.
For now, I walked to the end of Falfield Bank where a double, padlocked gate suggested I should not have been in there after all. Emerging onto a minor road, I paused to photograph the gate as I was now in a new grid square.
Gates at start (or finish) of Falfield Bank Estate - NO 4408
I had company on this minor road, if you can call fellow pedestrians that are walking about 100 yards in front of you, company. A woman and what I think were two young children (one on her back) and a brown labrador on a lead were also navigating this rather busy road. Her older child had roller skates on and was obviously enjoying terrifying her mother whilst skating out into the middle of the road and then darting back whenever a car came. As they stopped walking at the approach of a car from either direction, I did the same, partly to show solidarity and partly because I did not want to catch up with them.
At Peattieshill I paused to look surreptitiously for the benchmark. As luck would have it, a white van paused outside the farmhouse at exactly the same time and kept the engine running. Not wanting to appear suspicious or weird, I walked very slowly on casting a furtive glance at any stone edifice that may contain a benchmark. When the van eventually moved off, I retraced my steps and had another not quite so furtive glance but still couldn't see it. I decided to leave it and enter instead the new world of a new gridsquare and a village I had only ever seen on the map before. New Gilston.
Turns out there's a reason I've never visited this village before. There really is nothing to see. Even the snow could not cast a better light on it. I photographed the village sign and looked in vain for another benchmark before continuing my trudge along tarmac. As predicted, the mother and her little family had disappeared (I had told myself they probably lived in New Gilston).
Approaching New Gilston from the east. Largo Law just visible on the left. NO 4308
Failing to find another benchmark, supposedly on a wall, I walked the length of the village and into the next grid-square, in which I would linger just long enough to snap a photo of one of three road junctions today (can you bear the excitement?!)
Turn off to Ceres - NO 4208 (The sign on the bench once advertised eggs for sale)
Another sharp bend and I was into my next gridsquare (if only they were all as easy!) and another road junction.
Turn off south onto link road to A915 - NO 4207
As can be seen in the photographs, these roads had not been gritted and I chided myself again for not having worn my spikes. I chose each footstep carefully, choosing what I considered to be the least slippery option and thankfully there was not much traffic. I must, however, have looked rather like a drunk wandering down the road, swaying from side to side!
I was beginning to think about lunch and started scouring my route for possible stopping places. I hadn't realised my walk would be so much on roads. Reaching a crossroads meant I was in another gridsquare and hurray, approaching another potential benchmark!
Crossroads near West Gilston Mains - NO 4307
The benchmark did not materialise, which was disappointing; one of the reasons I had not done this route before was that I had plotted it a few years ago and had been disappointed to discover a dearth of benchmarks along it. In fact there was a dearth of anything very exciting (discounting Falfield Bank, of course). The snow and ice were not conducive to an extensive search for benchmarks, so I could always return in more favourable conditions for another search, although I doubt I will!
My search for a lunch spot was proving futile too. I plodded along, every so often pausing to anticipate the emergence of a mole from a fresh molehill, again I was to be disappointed. I often think about moles, burrowing away underground and wonder why I have never seen one. I walk a lot on my own and stop to admire molehills and have seen them moving quite a few times, but have never ever seen a live one. I have googled it though and am going to take my folding chair and sit amongst molehills with a warm thermos flask and a sandwich for a couple of hours one day with the hope of finally meeting Mr Mole.
I still hadn't found a suitable lunch spot when I came to the crossroads and turned right. I made up my mind that when I entered the woodland and was off the road, I would definitely stop. So I entered Gilston Estate, still in the same gridsquare, and walked cautiously on, as is my wont when entering what might be deemed to be private land. There had been no sign at the entrance saying as much, just that there was no entrance to a certain postcode (information probably aimed at the postie).
A sign on a boulder directed 'all traffic' to the left with the right turn being a private garden and definitely not for cyclists.
Boulder sign in Gilston Estate (see above for directions!) NO 4407
Shortly after this I found another, less prominent boulder, on which I sat for lunch with Buzzard, Cladonia and Coal and Long-tailed Tits for company. I cast a few crumbs onto the ground in the hope of attracting fellow avian picnickers, but, alas! No-one joined me.
Suddenly aware of someone's approach, I turned round in time to say hello to another solitary walker, a young girl playing with her phone as she walked by. At least she hadn't asked what I was doing there.
I saw no-one else on the rest of my walk through the Estate. A well-maintained doocot in the distance caught my eye. But I cannot find it recorded on Canmore or anywhere else on the internet, although admittedly I have not spent too long searching. When I got home, during my research, however, I noticed that the doocot is marked on a large scale map and is actually in the one gridsquare that I did not manage to walk in today. I have now seen a potential route in and wonder if this is worth a re-visit sometime?
Doocot in Gilston Estate (NO 4507) from NO 4406
I got a little confused at another crossroads where there seemed to be signs for everything except the exit. I desperately wanted to avoid walking past the big house; trouble was, I didn't know in which direction the big house lay. Wait a minute, though, was that a glimpse of it through the trees?
I went up one blind alley, which led to some rather attractive cottages, marked as Clocktower Cottages on a large scale map.
Clocktower Cottages, Gilston Estate - NO 4506
I failed to find another benchmark as there was nowhere it could possibly be. No doubt a wall or building had been removed since it was chiselled or recorded the database. After wandering round aimlessly for a bit, eyes on phone to see which way the red arrow was directing me, I plumped for the only direction I'd not been in and soon found myself back on the A915, albeit not quite where I'd hoped to end up.
I turned right and passed the other entrance to Gilston Estate (the one that says 'No exit to KY something or other, the one I had originally planned on exiting and the one I was very glad I didn't eventually exit at). Having said that, the benchmark I went and missed may have been as a result of not exiting via that gate!
It was only when I'd walked beyond that entrance, mulling the location of the final benchmark of the day, that I realised I'd missed my turn off. I retraced my steps to the turn off with the postbox and sauntered down it.
I was on the home stretch now and some of this part of the walk soon began to look familiar. When I looked back at my walks later, I realised it was from my previous walk in this area in 2020. That was long enough to have forgotten certain features though. After all, I only really need a couple of minutes to forget some things!
I crossed a railway bridge and photographed it, even though I had already photographed this gridsquare, my final one of the day.
Disused railway bridge near Cairn Farm - NO 4506
I walked past the entrance to Lathallan Home Farm, which is where I had emerged on my last walk and carried on along the minor road past the Station Cottages I do remember passing and photographing last time. I photographed them again, just for the sake of it.
Station House, Largoward - NO 4606
My feet were beginning to feel weary now, but I was much more conscious of another problem; a problem that had plagued me from within about five minutes of starting the walk - my trousers were falling down! This is a big sign that I am not doing enough walking. They weren't falling down because they were too big, but because I couldn't fasten the button! Up till now it hadn't really bothered me because every so often I just stopped to hoist them up. Now, however, I was emerging onto a main road with traffic constantly behind me and a bag lady ahead of me. The sort of lady I was going to want to speak to.
I did. I congratulated her on her unforgiving task of collecting litter. She asked me where I had walked from and I showed her my route on the map as she seemed genuinely interested. Eventually we both paused in conversation and I offered to help her with her bags back to - well, where exactly? "The bin at the Village Hall," she answered. "No problem," I replied and casually picked up a couple of bags, ever conscious of my gradually slipping trousers. I tried walking with my feet just a little wider apart than usual to try and stave the inevitable fall and every so often I did a neat little, surreptitious (I liked to think) turn of my hand with the bag in an attempt to pull them up.
In this manner, I somehow managed to get back to the car without completely disgracing myself. I flung the bags into the bin and sunk into the car seat. "As soon as I get home, those trousers are going in the bin," I vowed. And I kept my promise!
Miles walked: 7.5
Number of new gridsquares: 10
Number of potential new gridsquares (only if I'd ventured into field to see the doocot): 11
Number of benchmarks: 1
Number of potential benchmarks: 6
Highlights: Ice crystals, rubbing stones, Mr South Bowhill Farm
Walk worth repeating: not really - too much road walking, but would be good to have a closer look at the doocot and a dip into NO 4507(and perhaps to have a closer look for missed benchmarks)
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