Safe Harbours and Energy Zones – a wander around ‘The Path’.


a tidal log book: salt, moon, sun, wind

I – Kirkcaldy Harbour

To think of the journeys that have started and ended here.

Safe harbour: a place of refuge or shelter. Arrivals and departures, crossing borders. Time measured in tidal flows. A log book of salt, moon, sun and wind.

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II – The Space of A Tide

1505 – Four haven masters were appointed and given powers to seize the goods of any skipper who dumped his ballast in the harbour and left it there for longer than the space of a tide.

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III – To the Isthmus of Panama

One small harbour on the Fife coast, a nodal point in tentacles of international trade, extractive exploitation, colonial ambition and hubris.

1698 – the Company of Scotland raise capital in an attempt to establish a world trading state by establishing a colony named  “Caledonia” on the Isthmus of Panama in the Gulf of Darién. Two ships are built in Hamburg –  St Andrew and Caledonia which are sent to Kirkcaldy in readiness to sail as part of the first Darien fleet.

The ill-fated scheme started well, with a settlement  established at New Edinburgh, but the initiative quickly turned sour. A supply ship was wrecked and the colonists struggled with hot weather and tropical disease. A second expedition which set out the following year fared little better. Out of c. 2,400 Scottish colonists, only around 50 survived the venture. The failed scheme almost bankrupted Scotland and arguably, precipitated the Act of Union in 1707.

An anchor on the quayside – a question mark. What memories exist in the tidal log book of the day St Andrew and Caledonia sailed out of harbour for Leith, eventually bound for Darien?

There is little harbour infrastructure visible around the harbourside today, having been largely replaced by a new build housing complex. A weathered warehouse of indeterminate age remains. An image in peeling paint emerges, acting, perhaps as witness, or as a warning to South American dreams, cross-border conquests and colonial expeditions.


a cubist angelfish peels off dreams from the Orinoco basin

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IV – Chasing Whales and Fortunes in the Arctic

Found arctic map on top of a utilities box

Kirkcaldy’s first whaling ship left harbour in 1813, heading North, searching for whales and fortunes in the arctic. Nearby, on Pathhead Sands, where we will walk shortly, a whale oil ‘manufactory’ was once established.

Found poem: A list of early nineteenth century Kirkcaldy whalers:

Abram

Triad

Rambler

 

Earl Percy

Chieftain

Majestic

 

Ravenscraig

Regalia

Viewforth

Lord Gambier

Ice Bound

In 1835, Viewforth left Kirkcaldy for whale grounds near Greenland, in search of blubber and whalebone.  Spreading sea ice trapped eleven British ships, in the Davis Strait, including Viewforth. A long winter followed with one of the nearby ships, The Jane, crushed by ice. Ship crews faced the twin threats of frostbite and scurvy. After eleven months, the sea ice eventually loosened and Viewforth managed to sail to Stromness harbour. Six of the crew had died.

1860 – Lord Gambier, Chieftain, and Abram returned to Kirkcaldy with 14 whales, 200 tons of oil, and 14 tons of whalebone.

Sun Dogs, Comets and Irradiated Cloud

The ship’s officer of Viewforth, William Elder, kept a detailed diary of the time the ship was trapped in sea ice. The tone of the diary is generally melancholic, although there are periodic poetic descriptions of natural phenomena witnessed. This includes a spectacular display of sun dogs with the “halo of both sun and moon appearing at the same time in two or three luminous circles”. The Northern Lights are also recorded: “The most brilliant and cheerful spectacle was the aurora borealis which tended to enliven the long gloomy night. These fine works of nature are nowhere to be seen in perfection but in the distant north. We have also seen a beautiful comet-star over these past three nights; it bears NNW of us and has a very bright tail … it’s tail had the appearance of the reflected light of an irradiated cloud”.

Crushed By Ice

1862 – both Abram and Lord Gambier are crushed by ice. Their crews spend four months being looked after by Inuit people before being picked up by another vessel.

On today’s walk around the harbour, a a ghost ship of the old whalers still sails.

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V – Flows

By the mid 1800s, Kirkcaldy was bound up in the nexus of international trade, trading with North and South America, France, Germany, Scandinavia, The Mediterranean and the Baltic States. The products of Michael Nairn’s expanding floor coverings and linoleum empire was a key export and imports included flax, for the linen mills, timber and in one instance a cargo of Peruvian guano.

At the north end of the harbour, Carr’s Hutchison Mills continues the long established tradition of flour milling on the site. Now a gleaming, state-of-the-art citadel of chrome and steel to bring us our daily bread. In the dock, a general cargo vessel, Kirsten B, sailing under the tax haven flag of St Vincent and the Grenadines, with a home port of Elsfleth in Lower Saxony Germany, unloads it’s imported grain cargo. A reminder of the continuing sea-borne mobility of international capital and commodities in a nexus of trade flows, production, distribution and consumption of material goods.

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VI – Facade

Directly opposite the harbour, stands a striking industrial façade from 1886. Michael Nairn’s St Mary’s Canvas Works, originally housed 1,870 looms using steam power to produce floor cloth. Nairn had already built an enormous factory – The Scottish Floorcloth Manufactory on the shore at Pathhead in 1847. The size and scale of the building was initially ridiculed and known locally as ‘Nairn’s Folly’. However, Nairn secured the patents for the production of the new floor covering of linoleum and the venture became a huge success. By 1876, linoleum production had become a global industry, centred on Kirkcaldy, with the use of linseed oil in the production process giving the town it’s distinctive smell.

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VII – An Ecumenical Square Go?

A little further along the road is another archway remnant. The Dunnikier Union Church was a breakaway from The Free Church of Scotland. Reading the plaque conjures up an image of the aftermath of an ecumenical gang fight with the Dunnikier Union Church leaving the Free Church on The Path.

This makes more sense when considering that the road that rises from the harbour up to Pathhhead is indeed the wonderfully named ‘The Path’.

A skeletal structure overhead has replaced the old rail bridge that used to carry the harbour line down a steep incline. On more than one occasion, locomotives ended up in the harbour itself.

In an echo of St Mary’s steam-powered canvas factory, a rail bridge support column functions as a wind powered canvas in an impressionistic shadowplay of light, and tree movements.

Off to the left, the culverted Den Burn (East Burn) channels down towards the Firth of Forth.

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VIII – Pathhead

It’s a reasonably challenging gradient up The Path and you enter into Pathhhead, a Burgh of Barony dating back to the sixteenth century, where nail making was the chief occupation. Nails also functioned as a local micro currency known as Pickle Tillem (a measure of nails). The nail makers of Pathhead were studied by Kirkcaldy born, Adam Smith who incorporated his observations into The Wealth of Nations.

The early days of Pathhead centred around the ‘big hoose’ at the top of The Path, then known as Dunnikier House, now as Path House. Built in 1692 by John Watson of Burntisland, for his bride Euphan Orrock, the house has been renovated fairly recently with the initials of the couple remaining in the small window gables facing south. A variation of a marriage stone which typically acted as a commemoration of the marriage itself, but also as a (sometimes overt)  display of rising social advancement. (A significant leg up from lovers carving their initials on a tree trunk). However, the couple had a relatively short stay in the house as Watson fell on hard times after a number of failed business ventures. After being made bankrupt, he was forced to sell the house to the Oswald family in 1703.

 

rising, setting

a wingbeat

of captured sunlight

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IX – An Absent Folly

Before heading down to Pathhead Sands, we can stand and look over the area where the afore mentioned whaling works would have been and Michael Nairn’s floorcloth and linoleum factory. Other than a heritage plaque to commemorate ‘Nairn’s Folly’, you would have little inkling what once stood here.

We descend on the road that leads to the sands and enter a quite different zone of feeling.  A wall of obligatory graffiti broadcast their semiotic transmissions to whoever cares to listen, before a short desire path leads down to the reclaimed area of a post-industrial landscape.

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IX – Swifts

For a while we stop and become mesmerised by the kinetic energy of tumbling, scything  swifts, simply doing what swifts do. A temporary safe harbour in their borderless world.

We head off  from the landscaped greenery across sandy scrubland to see what the other side of the harbour looks like as it meets the shoreline. We pass the enigmatic presence of a substance that could either be plant based or fine down feathers. But so much of it in only one location? The remnants of some bizarre pillow fight ritual on the sands? No-one wants to pick up the material for a closer look.

The white feather/plant enigma?

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X – The Ultimate Safe Harbour

[Carlo Scarpa] understood that the past is not dead and that we in the present must engage and intertwine with it.

Reaching the other side of the harbour somehow conjures up long forgotten images seen of Carlo Scarpa’s Brion Cemetery, perhaps the ultimate safe harbour and border crossing. It feels as if the sky is pressing down on the granular heft of angled greys and reflective still water.

place a slab of sky

on

solid / angled / calm

 

XI – Energy Zone

Overhead, the non-human world is fully engaged with life and in contrast to the speed freak swifts, squadrons of seabirds soar, fall and ride the currents of the buffeting shoreline wind.

 

watching the rise      (the fall)

the fall                      (the rise)

 

It is clear that we have entered an energy zone.

As we approach the shoreline an energy antenna conducts the circulating coastal energies. With Bass Rock and Berwick Law, distant on the horizon, a triangular energy field  pulls us into an expanded world. Bardic bird yells, brine on the tongue and buffeting sea breezes whip up folding white breakers that fizz over the sand.

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XII – Pathead Sands

As we walk along the shore, four structures, stretching skyward,  puncture the northern skyline. Three high-rise flats and a castle all bearing the same name: Ravenscraig, Ravens Craig – rock of the ravens.

Four Ravens on the cliff to the to the north and to the south, looking across the Firth of Forth,  the red-needle stabs of oystercatchers counterpoint the rhythms of the breaking waves.

The only ships we see passing this afternoon are bulk crude oil carriers, likely heading for the Grangemouth petrochemical complex, home of the Anthropo-obscene Rorschach Test. More arrivals and departures recorded in the tidal log book.

The aggressive wind summons up another local story of when John Paul Jones, the Yankee privateer, and founder of the American Navy, dropped anchor in the Forth in 1778. This caused much  concern and fear that he was about to unleash cannon fire on Kirkcaldy and plunder anything of value. The story goes that a  local church led by the Rev. Robert Shirra congregated on the sands and prayed for help to thwart the marauding Yankee. Apparently their prayers were answered when a fierce storm blew up into a turbulent gale, resulting in Jones pulling up anchor, retreating and being blown back down the Forth.

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XIII – Deep Time Transmissions

Underneath the castle, clambering over some huge rock formations, the ground appears to be melting underfoot in spectacular configurations of psychedelic rocks. Stare long enough and the whorls, swirls and solidified sediment begin to coalesce into a magic eye painting. Deep time itself coming into focus, passing through the present, projecting into a deep future.

 

 

On first glance, a sealed off cave at the bottom of the cliff looks innocuous enough, intriguing even, yet this is the location of a terrible tragedy which occurred on Hansel Monday, 1740. A group of youngsters had been playing hide and seek and several had taken refuge deep in the cave, believing they were ‘safe’. Without warning, the roof of the cave collapsed on top of them and ten children were killed.

Reflecting that even safe harbours can harbour danger, we cast a last look back along the sands towards the Lang Toun before a set of steps leads us up towards the castle, past an impressive beehive type Dovecot.

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XIV – Ravenscraig Castle

Seen from the beach below, it looks like “a protruding shin bone sticking out of the soil of the dead past,” —as strangely bedded and neighboured as the hulk of some anti-diluvian mammoth that has been uncovered on the bank of a Siberian stream.”

(John Geddie, The Fringes of Fife (1894)

I see the land of Macbeth, so when shall we two meet again, in thunder, lightning or in rain?’

(Joseph Beuys in a letter to Richard Demarco)

Witches on the battlements, a raven’s croak

The looming tower of Ravenscraig Castle does conjure up something of a protruding shin bone and the aura of the land of Macbeth. Indeed, Macduff was the Thane of Fife and the ruined castle of  the Earls of Fife, Macduff Castle, lies a short distance along the coast at East Wemyss.

Richard Demarco, the artist, curator and general cultural agitator, has long been a champion of the arts in Scotland forging cross-cultural and cross-border relationships with many Central and East European artists including his long collaboration with Joseph Beuys whom he introduced to ‘the land of Macbeth’. Beuys subsequently became fascinated and inspired by Scottish culture, myth  and landscape, visiting the country eight times before his death in 1986.

In 1996, Demarco brought an open air production of the Scottish play to Ravenscraig Castle, staged by the Belarus State Theatre directed by Valery Anisenko. Full use was made of the castle environs and the not untypical Fife weather presented a challenge to a number of critics ill-prepared for the torrential rain running up the Forth. One critic bemoaned the fact that Kirkcaldy at the end of August does not quite enjoy “the same balmy climate as Verona or Epidaurus or other places where the classical drama is performed in the open air”. It became cool, then chilly, then cold, then finally freezing”.

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XV – The 39 Steps?

Local folklore claims that John Buchan named his novel The Thirty-Nine Steps after the path that leads down by the east side of the castle to Pathhead Sands. A similar claim relates to a set of steps in Broadstairs, where the final scenes of the novel take place. Both sets of stairs have more than thirty nine! However, Buchan’s father was a Free Church of Scotland minister and Buchan spent most of his formative years in Kirkcaldy. His novel Prester John opens with a scene on Pathhead Sands, with Kirkcaldy thinly disguised as Kirkcaple.

At the top of the steps, we pass a Tetris landfall, scattered like a delinquent Carl Andre sculpture. An  underpass records a purple heart addressed to unknown others, perhaps all of us.We exit under the shadow of the towering, human built cliffs of the Ravenscraig flats.

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XVI – To Turn the Face Towards Home

Crossing over Nether Street, a small, ancient graveyard looks out over the castle walls. Many of gravestones are so badly weathered and eroded that the names of the plot occupants have completely disappeared. The mute stones a presence of absence. We ponder on the life and circumstances of ‘Nelly’ one of the few well preserved headstones but offering minimal detail.

A carved anchor and message on a sailors grave indicates that it’s time to start heading for safe harbour.

As we head back to The Path and ponder what ‘home’ meant for sailors who could spend months or years at sea at a time, a solitary magpie standing sentinel on the castle tower, rattles out it’s call across the Forth.

Perhaps it tells the tale of a ghost ship, long lost in the tidal log book, sailing up the Forth looking for safe harbour.

(Mural depicting a late sixteenth or early seventeenth-century galleon, Merchant’s House, Kirkcaldy).

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A related walk also featuring The Path can be found here: Two Hours in the Lang Toun

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Now Playing: Porter Ricks – Harbour Chart

Key References:

Richard Demarco, A Unique Partnership: Richard Demarco Joseph Beuys (Edinburgh: Luath Press, 2016)

John Geddie, The Fringes of Fife (Edinburgh: David Douglas, 1894)

Carol Mc Neill, Kirkcaldy Harbour: An Illustrated History (Stroud: Amberley Publishing, 2018))

Various publications of Kirkcaldy Civic Society.

A Field in Fife

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I like maps, because they lie.

Because they give no access to the vicious truth.

they spread before me a world

not of this world.

Wisława Szymborska

 

There are only shadows here

 A Field in England (Dir. Ben Wheatley)

The commuters scurrying down the stairs at Rosyth Halt railway station, are unlikely to give much thought, if any, to the field on their left as they descend to the platform below.  Some may notice subtle changes in colour throughout the year. The recent appearance of yellow broom blossom; the overhead sun creating a dappled patchwork of greens, sandy browns and heathery purple. In a few weeks, the hawthorn blossom will sit like scented snow on the ancient hedge.

Standing at a certain part of the station platform, it is possible to hear the gentle purr of the Whinny Burn tracing its route through the field on its way to the River Forth at Inverkeithing Bay. Magpies, rooks and collared doves appear to take a curious interest in the arrivals and departures of station commuters whilst overhead, the sun splinters around the extended wings of a buzzard soaring like Icarus ever higher into the blue.

The field is now bounded on all sides by motorway, dual carriageway and the railway line. A severed island of abandoned agricultural land cast adrift with no easy public access. At the top of the halt steps, there are no particularly distinguishing visual features as we look over the land which we are going to walk through. As a train arrives at the platform below, a late flurry of commuters hurl themselves past us and down the stairs to squeeze into the carriages before the doors close. Most are unlikely to be aware that there may be as many as 2,000 bodies buried somewhere in the vicinity.

The fields between the railway and the A823 (were) where the last and bloodiest part of the battle took place … it is likely to be where the majority of the killing took place. (Historic Scotland).

it is said that the burn ran red with blood for three days.

The casualties on the Scots side were certainly heavy. Most sources agree that about 2,000 were killed and around 1,500 taken prisoner, although various figures are reported for the casualties of the Highland regiments. Cromwell in his letter immediately after the battle reported at least two thousand dead.

July 1651

It was during the night or early morning of 16th /17th July 1651 that the troops of Oliver Cromwell’s New Model Army landed on the north shore of the Forth in the vicinity of Inverkeithing Bay. Whilst they had inflicted a heavy defeat on the Scottish army at Dunbar on 3rd September 1650, they had been thwarted by attempts to advance further into Scotland. Cromwell came to the conclusion that Fife was the key and by 20th July, 4,500 of Cromwell’s Parliamentarian force were dug in on Ferry Hills, whilst a Scottish force of a similar size had grouped at Castland Hill. The threat of Scottish reinforcements coming from Stirling provoked Cromwell’s Parliamentarians to attack and force the Scottish infantry to retreat north towards Pitreavie Castle. On land close to Pitreavie Castle, the Scottish infantry made a final stand but were soon overwhelmed by the more experienced Parliamentarians who had the additional advantage of cavalry. The Scots suffered heavy losses. This became known as The Battle of Inverkeithing (sometimes The Battle of Pitreavie) and was the last major battle of the Wars of the Three Kingdoms in Scotland. From 1652, Scotland was wholly under control of Cromwell’s Protectorate.

Entering the field is not too difficult. Not far from the station steps there is a locked gate but a little further along we find a gap in the hedgerow. If you are prepared to navigate or slide down a steep slope, this will deposit you amongst the discarded plastic bottles and assorted rubbish tossed from the stairs above. At ground level, the topography of the field is much more apparent. Pronounced undulations ahead of us, sloping off to the right towards marshy ground around the Whinny Burn.  Ground cover is a mix of meadow type grasses, whin bushes, dandelions and what look like dock leaf plants gone to seed.

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You only have to look towards the perimeter of the field to be aware that you are surrounded by human presence. The rooftops of Rosyth to the right and the hum of motorway traffic a constant low-level signal.  Yet on the actual land we are walking, it is rare to find an almost complete lack of evidence that humans have recently passed. No litter, no discarded cans or bottles or burnt out barbecues. There are hints of desire lines traversing the space, perhaps made by committed dog walkers or something else. It is only as we move further into the field, that there is a clear sense that we are being watched.

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At first, we wonder if it is a dog but it soon becomes apparent that it is the eyes of a tiny roe deer that are fixed on our movements. We are both probably equally surprised to encounter each other. This is not an area where you would typically expect to see deer. Where on earth has it come from? We lock into that non-time state of reciprocal, motionless, staring. Eventually the deer decides to break for it. Great elongated leaps for something so small; as if bouncing off the air itself, not really touching the ground. I manage to retrieve the camera and fire off some random shots in the hope that we obtain some record of this actually having happened.

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as if bouncing off the air itself

We notice our presence is also alarming a number of skylarks which appear to have made the field their own. Their nervous, vertical flight and fluted song a mix of terror and beauty as we try to avoid what must be their nesting areas.

The field separates in two at a ridge of hawthorn bushes. On the other side:

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From a distance

criss-cross

to new horizons

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A field of time

history layered

on geography.

 

Transparent globes

of wind held tension

time scattered

yellow flowerings

of the eternal return

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The field eventually tapers to a point where we can go no further, blocked off by the railway and the smooth, solid concrete structure carrying the A823 motorway spur.

We know that beyond the A823 another field will take us to a concrete flyover of the M90 motorway. We work out a way to access the field and head off on a detour. Our serendipitous findings are recorded in a separate blog: Cartographies of Chance – Underneath the M90 (II).

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Returning to the field, we walk close to the northern perimeter with only a thin hedgerow between us and the A823. Such a slight threshold separating us from our field of time, skylarks and deer. On the other side, the surveillance cameras, crash barriers, lay-bys and signs – all the material apparatus of the modern motorway.

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We are quite surprised to come across a footbridge over the motorway that enters the field only to stop at a complete dead-end. The proximity of this easier access results in the usual heaps of fly tipping, something that is hard to understand. It must be much more difficult to dump this stuff here than take it to the municipal waste recycling.

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Place and non-place are rather like opposed polarities: the first is never completely erased, the second never totally completed . . . But non-places are the real measure of our time.

Marc Augé

The footbridge takes us over the A823, (Why does an empty motorway always evoke a Ballardian descriptor?) and into the relatively new ‘non-place’ of Carnegie Campus. We know from the old maps and records that this land was also once part of ‘the field’. Being a Sunday, the ‘campus’ is completely deserted as we wander amongst the new build office blocks, many of which still look unoccupied. Roundabouts appear to have been built in hope of a time still to come as roads come to an abrupt end. Rab’s Little Kitchen snack van is closed.

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Where the manicured non-space runs out, an explosive wild bouquet of whin sits amongst a covering of red campion:

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And yet amongst all the shiny new sheen of this place, older voices intrude. A hexagonal brick structure whose original purpose is unclear:

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time stacked textures

brick and concrete

.

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Nestled in at the side of the main road into the campus we come across the cairn. As far as we are aware it is the only explicit acknowledgement of what happened on this land.

the Scots were driven back to the level ground between Hillfield and Pitreavie. Here, in one of the most famous episodes of the Battle of Inverkeithing, the Clan Maclean of Mull regiment, commanded by their chief, Sir Hector, found themselves surrounded by superior enemy forces. The clansmen fought fiercely in defence of their chief, calling out, “Fear eile airson Eachainn!” (Another for Hector!), as they sacrificed themselves.

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The battle involved musketry, cavalry, pikes, swords and even archery on the Scottish side, with considerable hand to hand fighting

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Near here, Sir Hector MacLean of Duart was killed

at the Battle of Inverkeithing

along with some 760 of his men

20th July 1651

“Another for Hector”

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Nearby to the cairn, stands another material presence in the layered history of the field. Peering over a substantial stone wall allows us a view of the Dovecot in the grounds of Pitreavie Castle.

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Pitreavie Castle was originally built in the early 17th century by Henry Wardlaw of Balmule, later Sir Henry Wardlaw, 1st Baronet of Pitreavie. Wardlaw was Chamberlain to Queen Anne, wife of James VI of Scotland.  

The Battle of  Inverkeithing/Pitreavie was fought nearby on 20 July 1651, between an English force commanded by Colonel Robert Overton and a Scottish force, including some 800 Highlanders from the Clan Maclean. After the battle, which was a decisive victory for the Cromwellian forces (contemporary reports speak of 2,000 Scots killed and 1,600 captured, all for the loss of 8 of Overton’s troops), a group of Macleans sought refuge in Pitreavie Castle. The Wardlaw family refused them sanctuary and the Macleans were likely to have been captured or killed.

The Maclean dead … are more likely to have been buried in a mass grave.

We pass the old dovecot of the castle, turn left and past the front door where the initials of Henry Beveridge are recorded. Beveridge purchased the Castle in 1883 and extensively remodelled it in 1885.

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Henry Beveridge was a wealthy mill-owner, philanthropist and educator from Dunfermline. He was an associate of Patrick Geddes having attended Geddes’s summer meetings in Edinburgh. He subsequently became one of the Directors of Geddes’s Edinburgh Town and Gown Association in 1896. As a member of the Carnegie Dunfermline Trust, Beveridge was also partly responsible for arguably Geddes’s greatest work – City Development: a study of parks, gardens and culture institutes. A report to the Carnegie Dunfermline Trust. Geddes also introduced Beveridge to the artists John Duncan and Charles Mackie who painted murals in the castle illustrating the legend of Orpheus and Sir Patrick Spens.

International studio
International Studio, 1897

It is believed that these murals may now be at best over-painted and at worst destroyed. A good example of John Duncan’s Symbolist style can be seen in his famous work, The Riders of the Sidhe:

Duncan, John; The Riders of the Sidhe; Dundee Art Galleries and Museums Collection (Dundee City Council); http://www.artuk.org/artworks/the-riders-of-the-sidhe-92342
John Duncan The Riders of the Sidhe; Dundee Art Galleries and Museums Collection

As noted above, Henry Wardlaw’s granddaughter-in-law, Elizabeth Wardlaw, is claimed to be the author of  Sir Patrick Spens(Although the evidence appears somewhat tenuous).

“The king sits in Dunfermline toune
drinking the blude reid wine,
“O whar will I get a guid sailor,
To sail this schip of mine?”

Walking past Pitreavie Castle today, it has now been converted into flats and apartments and offers no clue as to another more recent past life. It was bought by the Ministry of Defence in 1938 and after the second world war, deep in a basement bunker became the headquarters of NATO’s Northern Maritime Region. During the Cold War, all Soviet ships and submarines on exercise in the North Sea were monitored from here. The base closed in 1996 and operations moved to RAF Kinloss. There is little or no outward trace of this today, although some photographs of its past life exist:

Access to the underground bunker

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(c) Subterranea Britannica

The teleprinter room 1944

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(c) Subterranea Britannica

As we head along Castle Drive, we notice that a small housing estate has a story hidden in the street names:

Covenanters Rise: The Scottish army was a Covenanter army, acting under allegiance to Charles II.

MacLean Walk: the aforementioned Sir Hector Maclean of Duart, commander of the Scottish Highland infantry.

Sir John Brown Place: Sir John Brown, commander of the Scottish lowland infantry.

Overton Crescent: – Colonel Robert Overton led the assault party of New Model Army troops that landed in Fife on the night of 16th/17th July.

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Our final part of the walk will take us along Castle Drive where we will loop around to bring us back to where we entered the field.  Despite the changes over the centuries, we have walked the area of the field as it was in 1657. We continue to ponder our mysterious encounter with the roe deer. Perhaps a manifestation of “only shadows here”?

Four days after the Battle, Cromwell crossed to Fife in person. For him the victory was “an unspeakable mercy”.

As we walk down Castle Drive we pass another new addition to the landscape on the left. A customer contact centre for Rupert Murdoch’s Sky empire.

On the other side of the road, a magpie picks at the carcass of a dead squirrel.

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Appendix

Present day map showing the boundary lines and key sites of the Battle of Inverkeithing. (Historic Scotland/Ordnance Survey).

Battle of inverkeithing

Now playing: June Tabor – ‘Sir Patrick Spens’ from An Echo of Hooves.

or a more jaunty version: Fairport Convention – ‘Sir Patrick Spens’ from Full House.

References:

Marc Augé, Non-places: Introduction to an Anthropology of Supermodernity (London and New York: Verso, 1995).

Charles Holme (ed), The International Style, Vol. 1 No. 1 (New York: The Bodley Head, March 1897).

Helen Meller, Patrick Geddes: Social Evolutionist and City Planner (London and New York: Routledge, 1993).

Wisława Szymborska, Map: Collected Poems and Last Poems (Boston and New York: Mariner Books, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2016).

Ben Wheatley Dir. A Field in England (Film4, 2013). Film.

Area Combined HQ Rosyth – Pitreavie Castle (Flag Officer, Rosyth, RN & AOC No 18 Group, RAF Coastal Command) on Subterranea Britannica

The Inventory of Historic Battlefields – Battle of Inverkeithing, Historic Scotland, 14th December, 2012.