… in Northumberland (and elsewhere) – a selection of images from the the month which first appeared on Blip. It started out relatively mild and I kept riding but, since the 19th the temperatures dropped, the wind got up and the Yamaha has been locked up in the garage (the other two are off road for the winter). The last game of golf was on the 23rd – I could be in for a long winter 😦
According to Wiki: Kippford is a small village along the Solway coast, in the historical county of Kirkcudbrightshire in Dumfries and Galloway, Scotland.
It is home to the most expensive properties in Dumfries & Galloway and is known as the Solway Riviera. Well that’s news to me. Riviera or not, it was surprisingly quiet even during Scottish schools’ half-term week.
Spend a few years on WordPress and there is the risk that posts become repetitive – the last time I was here was August 2014, staying overnight for golf at Colvend. Four years on not much has changed – I am staying for two nights for three rounds of golf at Lochmaben, Cally Palace and Dumfries & Galloway. More of the same sums up everything.
This time however, it was later in the year and the sun lower in the early evening sky. The ‘Riviera‘ was lit with a golden light, captured on a Fuji X100F – last time it was the X100S – like I say, more of the same:
Owning a motorcycle is like owning a dog, you can get into long conversations with people who would ordinarily pass you by.
The stop at Bellingham was planned – the Yamaha has a fuel gauge but its advice is at best vague. It always pays to independently keep track of mileage and expected range – about 150 miles maximum. This is particularly so when heading north up the A68 – without diversions there are no petrol pumps between Hexham and Jedburgh. Hence the plan to fill up at Bellingham – a scenic diversion which worked well except my arrival coincided with a tanker delivery. Within minutes the driver had expressed an interest in my bike and so the fifteen minute wait was filled with conversation. The same thing happened later in the day when I made a brief detour to the Holy Island causeway; an elderly chap was keen to tell me all about the Vincent he once owned and wished he still did
I was heading for Haddington to the east of Edinburgh – first to collect some copies of David Shaw Stewart’s excellent Views from the Tee and then to meet my eldest for lunch. Rather than retrace my steps I returned via the A1. This is a longer route home but the northern stretches near the coast can be spectacular and the dual carriageway allows the cobwebs to be air-blasted from the Yamaha. These are just some images from the day – a splendid 220 mile ride out in perfect autumnal weather:
… to know which way the wind blows – Subterranean Homesick Blues, Bob Dylan, recorded on January 14, 1965. According to english.stackexchange.com, the lyric was the inspiration for the name of the American radical left group the Weathermen, a breakaway from the Students for a Democratic Society. In a 2007 study of legal opinions and briefs that found Bob Dylan was quoted by judges and lawyer more than any other songwriter, “you don’t need a weatherman…” was distinguished as the line most often cited.
I mention this apropos of nothing other than I was at Traigh for their Open over the weekend and, as always, from the high points on the course, you don’t need a weatherman, you can see the weather coming for miles and there was plenty of it.
While I am going off at tangents, I will make this not particularly original observation – to fully appreciate any music you must hear it in the context of its own time. This track and everything else on Bringing It All Back Home was a shining beacon of originality which inevitably fades with time and the production of more than 50 years worth of subsequent music. Nevertheless, I can still remember the excitement felt by that introverted 14 year-old as this album first emerged from the single speaker of the family Dansette. All the words are still inside my head.
Cullen Links is one of the more remarkable golf courses in Scotland. Squeezed between the sea and the high ground above the bay where the Great North of Scotland Railway once steamed, the limited acreage demanded an imaginative course design. At first nine holes, it was extended to eighteen in 1905 and opened by “Sheriff Reid from Banff, in the presence of a large and representative company”.
Extension was achieved by use of high ground above Round Craig and Boar Craig. You can get some idea of the height achieved by standing at the foot of the town’s railway viaduct as it towers above. Then consider this – by the time you reach the upper level of the course, the railway has disappeared into a cutting beneath the level of the 5th fairway. At the seventh, with one glorious drive into the unknown, you descend in a single shot to sea-level. Forget the Pacific Highway, this is the best drive in the world.
Despite the course skirting the beach, there are not many opportunities for even the wildest of hitters to reach the briney sea. Only at the ninth do you aim towards the bay and it would be a monstrous misjudgement to reach the shore. However, that is not to say that there are no balls in the bay, indeed, there could be thousands.
On the original course map, at a position roughly in line with the current 16th tee, there is marked a “Battery” and on the wall of the clubhouse, an image of a row of cannons.
The exact purpose of the battery is unclear, but presumably there was some thought to coastal defence. However, while possibly never fired in anger, they were certainly exercised regularly for “Volunteers Big Gun Practice”, a sport which bears some resemblance to foursomes golf. A press cutting from the time indicates that the match was halved:
On Friday last, this Company, under the command of Capt. Ross and Lieut. Peterkin, fired off the remaining allowance of shot and shell for year 1865. The day fixed on was anything but favourable for practice – the wind blowing a regular gale off the land – yet the detachments mustered at the stated time nothing daunted, and it was a general remark of the on-lookers at the battery, that seldom if ever had such fine practice been made in like weather. At the conclusion of the practice, Adjutant Crabbe, who was present inspecting, complimented the several detachments in the highest terms, both as to their efficiency at drill, and their precision in the laying of guns. In the course of the evening, the recruits of the company competed for the prize of one thousand rounds of carbine cartridge, given by Alex. Wilson, Esq., Tochineal, a thorough supporter of Volunteer matters. The prizes were to have been awarded to those showing the greatest proficiency in big gun drill. The contest was judged by Adjutant Crabbe, and in presence of Captain Ross, and other officers, along with Mr Wilson, and a goodly number of the company, when it was agreed that distinction or any individual superiority could not well be pronounced, the whole having done their part so well, so that the prize came to be equally divided among the ten young recruits of the detachment, giving satisfaction to all. As a finish, three hearty cheers were heartily accorded to Mr Wilson by all present.
With thanks to Cullen Past and Present and Cullen Links for unearthing the information relating to the Battery.
Golf in the Wild – Going Home is a work in progress – the sequel to www.golfinthewild.co.uk
The Wick to Lybster Railway conformed to the Light Railway Act of 1896 which did not demand specific legislation to construct. Reducing legal costs and enabling new railways to be built quickly, it was intended to encourage the building of new ‘light railways’ in areas of low population. Using the powers of this Act, the Wick to Lybster Light Railway finally opened 1st July 1903 but with the new legislation came certain restrictions: the weight of the rolling stock could not exceed 12 tons on any one axle; the maximum speed was 25 mph, reducing to 10 mph on curves which had a radius of less than 9 chains; level crossings had to be approached at no more than 10 mph.
The decline of the fishing industry at Lybster and the construction of a road between Wick and Helmsdale in the 1930s signalled the end for the Light Railway which closed on 1st April 1944. John Skene who was the driver of the first train on the opening day of the railway in 1903 steamed up the engine for the last trip in 1944.
Perhaps because of the harsh terrain and climate, perhaps because of its ‘light’ construction, little remains visible – the occasional embankment seen from the A9, the hint of a cutting through an empty field and maybe the odd stationmaster’s house, largely indeterminate from other Caithness architecture. The wonderful exceptions are the station buildings at Thrumster and Lybster. Following the line’s closure, Thrumster Station continued life as a Post Office, a caravan site office and finally a garage store before being acquired by the Yarrows Trust in 2003. It is now perfectly preserved internally and externally, defiantly sited just a few feet from the busy A99, heading north to Wick.
The station at Lybster survives through simple vested interest – it is now the clubhouse for the Lybster Golf Club where the cutting heads north west through the course and the 7th whites tee box sits in the middle of the line – it is a pity that there is no longer any evidence of the platform:
Wick has been on my agenda for some time, almost five years to be precise, ever since my Highland Railways post from February 2013. The ScotRail Club 55 discounted price has expired but with enough forward planning, you can still go a very long distance for not very much – in this instance, from Hexham to Wick and back for £66, a journey not too far shy of 1000 miles.
I set off with some trepidation – Wick and I have form. Back in the summer of 1987 I flew there from Edinburgh on a business trip. It is one of those airports that is disconcertingly close to the sea. For the last half mile approach, there is the distinct impression that the plane is about to do a Captain Sully on the Hudson. As it turned out, it wasn’t the landing that was the problem but the take-off a few days later. Around 15:00 on a Friday afternoon, Loganair unceremoniously cancelled the return flight and left me stranded.
Taking to the railways was also full of uncertainties – the Far North Line, from Inverness to Wick, has a well documented poor reliability record. Aging rolling stock and a single track with insufficient passing loops means that disruption to one service snowballs across the rest. The occasional thump of shrubbery against windows also testifies to poor trackside maintenance. I need not have worried. All seven of the connecting services over four days ran exactly to time, the Inverness to Wick sections included.
The problem with the Far North Line runs much deeper than reliability. Travel by car from Wick to Inverness and under normal circumstances it will take about two and half hours. Travel by rail and it takes over four. It is all down to geography. The line takes the long route around three firths: Beauly, Cromarty and Dornie such that the distance by rail is roughly twice that of a well trained crow on a still day. All three firths are crossed by road bridges with no accommodation for rail.
At least these rail routes to the heads of the firths take in modest areas of population. This is not the case north of Helmsdale where the line wanders inland to avoid the major civil engineering challenge and associated cost of constructing a line over the Ord of Caithness. The consequence of this 19th century decision is that the line travels remarkable distances to go to the very epicentre of the middle of nowhere. For the idle rail enthusiast with no desire other than to observe the empty majesty of the Flow Country, this is heaven. For the good people of Wick and Thurso and a commercial enterprise dependent on attracting passenger traffic, it is not what the doctor ordered. To have survived post Beeching is a minor miracle. I am just grateful it has and with the support of the Friends of the Far North Line, I trust it always will.
An overnight stay provided the opportunity for only the briefest impressions of Wick. Seen in a dull, clouded January light, it is a monochrome austere town. There is no graffiti, no primary colours and no evidence of the too-familiar chain stores. This creates an air of independence and self-reliance. Grey stone and grey pebble-dash is contrasted by brown woodwork; individuality is expressed by the shade of brown wood stain. Everywhere there is solid 19th century architecture which will outlive its original purpose; the place has a curious magnificence.
It also seems prosperous – there is major construction work down by the harbour whilst oil rig support vessels are moored to the quayside alongside modern fishing boats, although nothing like the herring fleet numbers that crowded these waters in the 1800s. In the busy harbourside cafe, Wickers World, the preferred choice of dress is hi-viz and hard hat. If ownership of German SUVs is a reliable indicator of general prosperity, then the people of Wick are doing just fine. This is a collection of images taken on the evening of my arrival and the morning of my departure. Before too long I will return – by car and with golf clubs. The links course, three miles north of the town, is just too tempting.
In 1651 Cromwell’s Army formed an encampment before moving on to invade Sinclair and Girnigoe Castles. This area of the town is called The Camps. Temperance (Scotland) Act closed all licenced premises in Wick for 25 years from 28th of May 1922 until 28th May 1947, with the Camps Bar being the first to open its doors.
… No sooner has the sun,
Swung clear above the earth’s rim than it is gone.
We live as gleaners of its vestiges.
Damon’s Lament for His Clorinda, Yorkshire, 1654
Geoffrey Hill – 1978
Travelling by train, particularly on the near-empty carriages of the Far North Line, is one of the most relaxing modes of transport devised by man, with or without the clickety-clack of sleep-inducing rail expansion gaps. However, there is mild frustration for the photographer – a fine landscape is only visible through mucky windows which reflect the carriage lights. This is the near-best moving image I could manage – a video of the Inverness to Edinburgh line heading south on the final day:
(dig around on this site and you may find various tweeted phone images from the same journey).