For an unfit, part-time walker (me), yesterday’s hike had been a few hundred steps too far. I woke this morning feeling sore, blistered and tired, unwilling to move from the couch. I was still a bit disgruntled at the lack of castle in yesterday’s walk though and I wrestled with my determined nature until I decided to get off the couch and drive to Ballinbreich with the intention of crossing a field, taking some photos of the ruin and driving home.
Ballinbreich was still uncooperative. I drove down the small country roads until the castle came into view, then started looking for a place to park. It was at this point that I realised that the castle stood on a large farm which was quite obviously in constant use, boasting huge modern storage barns and a wide tarmac road for heavy machinery. I formed a vague idea that I could knock at the imposing door of the great farmhouse and meekly ask permission to invade their field and poke around their land because I’m nosey. Then I saw that the heavy machinery itself was neither stored in the barns, nor driving on the road but was out in the middle of the field I had imagined myself crossing, camera in hand. Two enormous ploughs were churning up acres of field, scattering clods of soil and being noisily chased by crows and gulls. I saved myself the trouble of going to ask permission by assuming they were going to say no. I parked in a layby and took some photos using the zoom lens on my camera but this would be as close as I would get.
I’d dressed reasonably warmly but the stabbing, icy wind was finding every part of my skin which was exposed, making my eyes water and making me shiver as I stood at the roadside. I turned away from the castle and looked up the steep, wooded hillside behind me, realising that yesterday, I had been up there looking down. I was grateful we hadn’t attempted the suicidal attempt to walk down to the castle yesterday – we wouldn’t have made it and even if we had, we would have had the same result, no chance to explore. The dissatisfied feeling I’d had since yesterday evaporated once I’d seen the barbed wire which sat on top of the livestock fences, the thick brambles and steep, wooded banks. Pretty soon I will manage to convince myself that I’d never wanted to see the castle anyway.
Then unexpectedly, as I was getting back into the car, I thought about the unfinished feeling I’d had when my friend and her baby and I had been stopped from finishing the Birkhill woods (West Balmerino) walk due to extreme mud. I checked the Fife Coastal Path map when I got back to the car and sure enough, I could reach that section from a tiny hamlet called Muir Dens. It wasn’t too far away. It would be a short walk. It might be sheltered from the wind. Obviously I went.
The walk from Muir Dens to the Birkhill Woods was down a fairly steep, uneven farm track, past the old Home Farm and into the woods. These were the woods I had been expecting to see yesterday, a thick carpet of autumn’s leaves, mossy stones and rustling leaves. A surprised and surprising rainbow-coloured pheasant burst out of the hedges to squawk at me as I went by. Pheasants are beautiful to look at but they do not produce pleasant sounds. After the pheasant had gone, the woods were restful and soothing but not as windproof as I had hoped. I reached the mud patch we’d stopped at last time and took a moment to enjoy the sights, the smells, the sounds and the feeling of completion before returning to the car.
The drive home took me through unfamiliar narrow roads and I passed by Creich castle – another ruined medieval tower house. Then I passed a doocot, similar to the one I had passed earlier at Parbroath which itself lay near to the ruined remains of Parbroath Castle. Fife has more significant medieval history than I had ever realised before. Ballinbreich Castle, Creich Castle, Parbroath Castle, Denmylne Castle and Lordscairnie Castle are all local to Cupar, some of them had been in use as early as the 13th century but all of them were gone by the 1700’s. Yet none of these castles were devastated by fire or war, none of them were captured or besieged. In the 17th century, earls and landowners across Scotland were forced to sell land and houses to pay for upkeep of other estates, to fund war or to ransom family members and by the 18th century the country had become poor and agricultural with many places suffering famine and depopulation. In 1709, the finances of Denmylne were in such a poor state that Michael, 5th Baronet of Denmylne, set out on horseback and he and the horse were never seen again. The Scottish aristocracy who remained viewed their estates in Scotland as being too old-fashioned and uncomfortable for modern tastes, so they were just abandoned and gently settled back into the landscape they had grown out of.
They are silent now, no horses being ridden, no cooks roasting food, no children playing games, no ladies sewing tapestries, no men getting ready for war or getting up to other mischief. They may be ruins but they still look grand, majestic and atmospheric in photographs.
Comments