Clicking a picture will bring up all the posts pictures in a slideshow. To view an individual picture in full screen, right click and select 'Open link in new tab'

Wednesday, 12 August 2009

Wild flowers of Garrochar Ponds

Wednesday 12th of August.
Today being the Glorious Twelfth,i thought i might see some shooting parties out and about.They were probably about,but i never came across them.
It was an overcast and occasionally drizzly day.

Close to Creetown,Garrochar Wildlife Ponds are part of the Balloch Community Woodland Project.
No matter how dull it might have been,the wild flowers around the ponds made a bright and colourful display.
Here's just a few.







Sunday, 9 August 2009

Wigtownshire Ramblers-Chapel Finian

Saturday the 8th of August and it's quite overcast.
We parked up at Corwall Port opposite Chapel Finian on the Glenluce Portwilliam road.
We think we're a group of twelve today,but the late arrival of the Glentrool contingent swells us to seventeen.Welcome good people,it's great to see you.

A quick look at Chapel Finians ruins and we head upwards on a track towards Corwall.Curly's raring to get a move on.

Between Auchenmalg and Portwilliam you can always guarantee the appearance of cormorants.This cairn is one of many in the area.Our walk leader tells us of a plan for a future walk,over the hill tops and taking in the cairns and hut circles that abound.
The short climb from Chapel Finian is the hardest part of todays walk,and we're soon in undulating countryside.
A view north towards Auchenmalg...

...and a rambler asks whether these woolly walkers have joined the group.They didn't stay with us for long.
Curly decides on a quick dip.
About now it started to rain.It's only a light drizzle,but it's enough for me to put the camera away for a while.I've been forgetting to bring along my small camera,which is ideal for days like these.
We continue in northerly direction until we reach the B7005 to Wigtown.
Here we follow the road east and past Culshabbin before turning back southwards via a farm track at the old schoolhouse.With Mochrum Loch and the Galloway hills as a backdrop,it's time for a photocall.
As the drizzle turns to rain,more waterproofs are donned.
Now we reach Airylick and Elrig House.
Elrig House was once the home of Gavin Maxwell of 'Ring of Bright Water' fame.The family still own and reside on the nearby estate at Monreith.More on this on Wikipedia at
Gavin Maxwell
Close to Elrig house we reach Barhobble,a 'Dark age and Medieval' church.Originally built of wood about 1050,with the stone chapel being added around 1125.
Barhobble
The rain's stopped as we have lunch.Curly keeps watch for titbits being dropped.
Back on the move and our leader informs us we've completed two thirds of todays walk.As we open and close another gate, he quips that todays walk should be called the 'Gate Walk', because there's been so many.
Now were alongside Changue wood,a colourful deciduous/coniferous mix.
Here on the Changue burn we come to the ruins of an old dam and watermill.Our walk leader enlightens us into the workings of such places.
Now as Luce Bay comes back into view it's all downhill...
...to the roadside.As the car drivers are ferried back to the walk start,the rest of us relax and enjoy the company and the views.
Despite the weather it's still been an enjoyable walk....
...with this added bonus on the way home.

Footnote:
There's a couple of intrepid explorers get down this way occasionally.
Their most recent escapade was a Cairnsmore of Fleet climb.Anyone fancying a climb could do worse than follow their route.blueskyscotland

A visit to Fife

I had occasion to go over to the East Coast in the first week of August 2009.
These are some of the places i went.

The first three pictures are from Culross...


...pronounced 'Cooros'



The Forth Bridges from South Queensferry.

Panorama of Forth Bridges on CleVR.com



Stenton Pond,Glenrothes.


The Lomond Hills...

...and historic Falkland.

Falkland Hill-A Slow Descent

It's a windless evening as a para glider jumps from Falkland hill,one of the Lomond Hills in East Fife.
Music by Moby is Atakte 2

Saturday, 1 August 2009

Wigtownshire Ramblers-Tarfessock

It's Saturday the 1st of August and todays walk should have been the peaks of Tarfessock and Kirriereoch.
Our walk leaders having recce'd the walk decide to prudently leave the Kirriereoch part for another day.
By the looks of the weather it's probably a good idea.
The usual car sharing from Newton Stewart,and there's not a multitude of walkers today.
Driving through the village boundaries of Glentrool i wave to a couple who've just recently moved in.We'll hopefully see these lovely folk on future walks.
We're a group of ten intrepid walkers as we get to the carpark on the Water of Minnoch.There's a couple of fishermen in waders having had no luck this far.The 'Awful Hand' peaks are all in cloud.
Campers and their noisy dogs are contemplating packing up and going home.I'm sure the weather forecast said it'll brighten up.
The first couple of miles is on forest road.The route takes us in a north easterly direction via Kirriereoch Farm and crossing the Pillow Burn towards the Tores and in the direction of Shalloch on Minnoch.
The end of the track and the climbing begins.It's been overcast but has kept dry up till now.
As we climb and look over towards the Cross burn in full flow it's becoming decidedly misty.
Wind and rain protectors are donned,and as usual i'm towards the rear.Visibilty isn't too brilliant now.
Our group leaders tell us of the views they had on the recce.Oh look! there's the Isle of Man over there.No matter how bad the conditions are,this group always look on the bright side.
Keeping up a fairly steady pace we're eventually at the summit of Tarfessock.At 697 Metres(2286ft),Tarfessock is the smallest of the five hills that make up the 'Awful Hand' range.Looks like there's only us up here today.
I get my camera set on 'Ten Second Delay' to get in the picture...
...a bit of a rush to get at the back of the group here...
...and one more picture before a welcome lunch and hot coffee.Shame about the spectacular views though.

We didn't tarry after lunch,and our route down is the reverse of our ascent.On the recce,our deputy walk leader had mapped the route on his GPS gizmo.After losing the path a couple of times this proved it's worth by getting us back in the right direction.I might just get one of these when i've a spare £120+.
We're below the mist now and we've a view down to Kirriereoch and Moan lochs.
Upon reaching the forest track,a few of us take a layer or two off.
No hurry now we're out of the clouds.There seems to be an infectious joviality around.
At Kirriereoch farm road end,a herd of friendly goats greet us.They weren't interested in the apple i offered them.I enjoyed eating it.
Who's this idiot?
Thanks to Scoop 1 for the picture.
This is the last leg back to the vehicles.
Looking back up to the hilltops it's doubtful they'll clear today.But we'll be back.
A very enjoyable walk despite the visibilty.

Wednesday, 29 July 2009

Shakeabodie Rock

In the Barr Area south of Newton Stewart on the Ordnance map is something called Shakeabodie Rock.
I found this close to where it should be.
What's all that about then.?

Monday, 27 July 2009

Billy Marshall-Tinker or Tinkler

In previous blogs i've made reference to one Billy Marshall-King of the Gypsies,Tinkers or Tinklers.
I was wandering through Kirkcudbright graveyard a few weeks ago,and came upon this memorial.
The inscription reads 'The Remains of William Marshall,Tinker who died 28th Novr 1792 at the advanced age of 120 years'

Note the coins on top of the stone.The original idea of leaving coins goes back to 'Paying the Ferryman' to allow the soul passage to the other side,but maybe the tinkers have another tradition.
I'm not superstitious,but I added to the tally and made a wish.

This is what Wikipedia says:

Billy Marshall (1672-1792) was born in Ayrshire in 1672 of Romany stock and claimed to be King of the Gypsies in south-east Scotland for most of the 1700s. He was a boxer, and served in the services, allegedly deserting from the Army seven times and from the Navy three times. He was supposed to have married 17 times and he had a huge crowd of illegitimate children (four of whom he is said to have fathered after his 100th birthday). He is also said to have been involved in murder and robbery, running a gang of gypsy tinkers in Galloway. He was the so-called 'King of the Randies', and having served as a soldier he was able to organise the country people who lost land when landowners built stone dykes and walls - his men went round knocking them down. Was a smuggler in Kirkcudbright. He was also reputed to be a gypsy and robber, and Caird (gypsy) of Burullion, the area he controlled.

Here's another account from the early 1800's

This item was a letter to the editor of Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine April - September 1817.

SOME ACCOUNT OF BILLY MARSHAL, A GYPSEY CHIEF.

AMONG some instructive and many very entertaining articles in your Magazine, I have been a good deal amused in reading your account of the gypsies, and more particularly of the gypsies of our own country. The race has certainly degenerated (if I may be allowed to use the expression), and is in some risk of becoming extinct, whether to the advantage of society or not I will leave to the profound to determine. In the mean time, I am very well pleased that you have united with the anonymous author of Guy Mannering, in recording the existence, the manners, and the customs, of this wonderful people.

But, I have been, I assure you, in no small degree disappointed, when reading the names of the Faas, the Baileys, the Gordons, the Shaws, the Browns, the Keiths, the Kennedys, the Ruthvens, the Youngs, the Taits, the Douglasses, the Blythes, the Allans, and the Montgomeries, &c. — to observe so noted a family as the Marshals altogether omitted. I beg leave to add, that your author will be considered either a very ignorant, or a very partial historian, by all the readers and critics in the extensive districts of Galloway and Ayrshire, if he persists in passing over in silence the distinguished family of Billy Marshal, and its numerous cadets. I cannot say that I, as an individual, owe any obligations to the late Billy Marshal; but, sir, I am one of an old family in the Stewartry of Galloway, with whom Billy was intimate for nearly a whole century. He visited regularly, twice a year, my great-grandfather, grandfather, and father, and partook, I dare say, of their hospitality; but he made a grateful and ample return ; for during all the days of Billy's natural life, which the sequel will shew not to have been few, the washings could have been safely left out all night, without any thing, from a sheet or a tablecloth down to a dishclout, being in any danger. During that long period of time, there never was a goose, turkey, duck, or hen, taken away, but what could have been clearly traced to the fox, the brock, or the fumart; and I have heard an old female domestic of ours declare, that she had known Billy Marshal and his gang, again and again, mend all the "kettles, pans, and crackit pigs, in the house, and mak twa or three dozen o' horn spoons into the bargain, and never tak a farthing o' the laird's siller."

I am sorry that I cannot give you any very minute history of my hero: however, I think it a duty I owe on account of my family, not to allow, as far as I can hinder it, the memory, and name, of so old a friend and benefactor to fall into oblivion, when such people as the Faas and Baileys, &c. are spoken of.

Where he was born I cannot tell. Who were his descendants I cannot tell; I am sure he could not do it himself, if he were living. It is known that they were prodigiously numerous; I dare say, numberless. For a great part of his long life, he reigned with sovereign sway over a numerous and powerful gang of gypsey tinkers, who took their range over Carrick in Ayrshire, the Carrick mountains, and over the Stewartry and Shire of Galloway ; and now and then, by way of improving themselves, and seeing more of the world, they crossed at Donaghadee, and visited the counties of Down and Derry. I am not very sure about giving you up Meg Merrilies quite so easily; I have reason to think, she was a Marshal, and not a Gordon: and we folks in Galloway think this attempt of the Borderers, to rob us of Meg Merrilies, no proof that they have become quite so religious and pions, as your author would have us to believe, but rather that, with their religion and piety, they still retain some of their ancient habits. We think this attempt to deprive us of Meg Merrilies almost as bad as that of the descendants of the barbarous Picts, now inhabiting the banks of the Dee in Aberdeenshire, who some years ago attempted to run off with the beautiful lyric of Mary's Dream; and which we were under the necessity of proving, in one of the courts of Apollo, to be the effusion of Low's muse, on the classic and romantic spot, situated at the conflux of the Dee and the Ken, in the Stewartry of Galloway. But to return from this digression to Billy Marshal: - I will tell you everything more about him I know ; hoping this may catch the eye of someone who knew him better, and who will tell you more.

Billy Marshal's account of himself was this: he was born in or about the year 1666; but he might have been mistaken as to the exact year of his birth; however, the fact never was doubted, of his having been a private soldier in the army of King William, at the battle of the Boyne. It was also well known, that he was a private in some of the British regiments, which served under the great Duke of Marlborough in Germany, about the year 1705. But at this period, Billy's military career in the service of his country ended. About this time he went to his commanding officer, one of the McGuffogs of Ruscoe, a very old family in Galloway, and asked him if he had any commands for his native country: being asked if there was any opportunity, he replied, yes; he was going to Keltonhill fair, having for some years made it a rule never to be absent. His officer knowing his man, thought it needless to take any very strong measure to hinder him; and Billy was at Keltonhill accordingly.

Now Billy's destinies placed him in a high sphere; it was about this period, that, either electively, or by usurpation, he was placed at the head of that mighty people in the south west, whom he governed with equal prudence and talent for the long space of eighty or ninety years. Some of his admirers assert, that he was of royal ancestry, and that he succeeded by the laws of hereditary succession ; but no regular annals of Billy's house were kept, and oral tradition and testimony weigh heavily against this assertion. From any research I have been able to make, I am strongly disposed to think, that, in this crisis of his life, Billy Marshal had been no better than Julius Caesar, Richard III., Oliver Cromwell, Hyder Ally, or Napoleon Bonaparte: I do not mean to say, that he waded through as much blood as some of those, to seat himself on a throne, or to grasp at the diadem and sceptre; but it was shrewdly suspected, that Billy Marshal had stained his character and his hands with human blood. His predecessor died very suddenly, it never was supposed by his own hand, and he was buried as privately about the foot of Cairnsmuir, Craig Nelder, or the Corse of Slakes, without the ceremony, or, perhaps more properly speaking, the benefit of a precognition being taken, or an inquest held by a coroner's jury. During this long reign, he and his followers were not outdone in their exploits, by any of the colonies of Kirk-Yetholm, Horncliff, Spital, or Lochmaben. The following anecdote will convey a pretty correct notion, of what kind of personage Billy was, in the evening of his life; as for his early days, I really know nothing more of them than what I have already told.

The writer of this, in the month of May 1789, hail returned to Galloway after a long absence: he soon learned that Billy Marshal, of whom he had heard so many tales in his childhood, was still in existence. Upon one occasion he went to Newton-Stewart, with the late Mr M'Culloch of Barholm and the late Mr Hannay of Bargaly, to dine with Mr Samuel M'Caul. Billy Marshal then lived at the hamlet or clachan of Polnure, a spot beautifully situated on the burn or stream of that name; we called on our old hero, - he was at home, — he never denied himself, — and soon appeared; — he walked slowly, but firmly towards the carriage, and asked Mr Hannay, who was a warm friend of his, how he was? — Mr Hannay asked if he knew who was in the carriage? he answered, that his eyes " had failed him a gude dale;" but, added, that he saw his friend Barholm, and that he could see a youth sitting betwixt them, whom he did not know. I was introduced, and had a gracious shake of his hand. He told me I was setting out in life, and admonished me to "tak care o my han’, and do naething to dishonor the gude stock o’ folk that I was come o';" he added, that I was the fourth generation of us he had been acquaint wi’. Each of us paid a small pecuniary tribute of respect, — I attempted to add to mine, but Barholm told me, he had fully as much as would be put to a good use.

We were returning the same way, betwixt ten and eleven at night, after spending a pleasant day, and taking a cheerful glass with our friend Mr M'Caul; we were descending the beautifully wooded hills, above the picturesque glen of Polnure, — my two companions were napping, — the moon shone clear, — and all nature was quiet, excepting Polnure burn, and the dwelling of Billy Marshal, — the postilion stopt (in these parts the well-known, and well-liked Johnny Whurk), and turning round with a voice which indicated terror he said, "Gude guide us, there's folk singing psalms in the wud.'" My companions awoke and listened, — Barholm said, "psalms, sure enough;” but Bargaly said, " the deil a-bit o' them are psalms." We went on, and stopt again at the door of the old king: we then heard Billy go through a great many stanzas of a song, in such a way that convinced us that his memory and voice, had, at any rate, not failed him; he was joined by a numerous and powerful chorus. It is quite needless to be so minute as to give any account of the song which Billy sung; it will be enough to say that my friend Barholm was completely wrong, in supposing it to be a psalm; it resembled in no particular, psalm, paraphrase, or hymn. We called him out again, — he appeared much brisker than he was in the morning: we advised him to go to bed; but he replied, that "he didna think he wad be muckle in his bed that night, — they had to tak the country in the morning (meaning, that they were to begin a ramble over the country), and that they "were just takin a wee drap drink to the health of our honours, wi' the lock siller we had gi'en them." I shook hands with him for the last time, — he then called himself above one hundred and twenty years of age: he died about 1790.

His great age never was disputed to the extent of more than three or four years. The oldest people in the country allowed the account to be correct - The great-grandmother of the writer of this article died at the advanced age of one hundred and four; her age was correctly known. She said, that Wull Marshal was a man when she was a bitt callant, (provincially, in Galloway, a very young girl.) She had no doubt as to his being fifteen or sixteen years older than herself, and he survived her several years. His long reign, if not glorious, was in the main fortunate for himself and his people. Only one great calamity befel him and them, during that long space of time in which he held the reins of government. It may have been already suspected, that with Billy Marshal ambition was a ruling passion; and this bane of human fortune had stimulated in him a desire to extend his dominions from the Brigg end of Dumfries to the Newton of Ayr, at a time when he well knew the braes of Glen-Nap, and the Water of Doon, to be his western precinct. He reached the Newton of Ayr, which I believe is in Kyle; but there he was opposed, and compelled to re-cross the river, by a powerful body of tinkers from Argyle or Dumbarton. He said, in his bulletins, that they were supported by strong bodies of Irish sailors, and Kyle colliers. Billy had no artillery, but his cavalry and infantry suffered very severely. He was obliged to leave a great part of his baggage provisions, and camp equipage, behind him ; consisting of kettles, pots, pans, blankets, crockery, horns, pigs, poultry, &c. A large proportion of shelties, asses, and mules, were driven into the water and drowned, which occasioned a heavy loss, in creels, panniers, hampers, tinkers' tools, and cooking utensils; and although he was as well appointed, as to a medical staff, as such expeditions usually were, in addition to those who were missing, many died of their wounds. However, on reaching Maybole with his broken and dispirited troops, he was joined by a faithful ally from the county of Down; who, unlike other allies on such occasions, did not forsake him in his adversity. This junction enabled our hero to rally, and pursue in his turn: a pitched battle was again fought, somewhere about the Brigg of Doon or Alloway Kirk; when both sides, as is usual, claimed a victory; but, however this may have been, it is believed that this disaster, which happened A. D. 1712, had slaked the thirst of Billy's ambition: He was many years in recovering from the effects of this great political error; indeed, it had nearly proved as fatal to the fortunes of Billy Marshal, as the ever memorable Russian campaign did to Napoleon Bonaparte, about the same year in the succeeding century.

It is usual for writers, to give the character along with the death of their prince or hero: I would like to be excused from the performance of any such task, as drawing the character of Billy Marshall; but it may be done in a few words, by saying, that he had from nature a strong mind, with a vigorous and active person; and that, either naturally or by acquirement, he possessed every mental and personal quality, which was requisite for one who was placed in his high station, and who held sovereign power over his fellow-creatures for so great a length of time: I would be glad if I could, with impartiality, close my account here; but it becomes my duty to add, that, (from expediency, it is believed, not from choice) with the exception of intemperate drinking, treachery and ingratitude, he practised every crime which is incident to human nature,—those of the deepest dye, I am afraid, cannot with truth be included in the exception: In short, his people met with an irreparable loss in the death of their king and leader; but it never was alleged, that the moral world sustained any loss by the death of the man.
Edinburgh, May 26, 1817.

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...

Photographs

Creative Commons License
This work is licenced under a Creative Commons Licence.

Morning deer

Morning deer
is someone watching me