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.

The Osmotic Ocean


 

osmosis: A gradual, often unconscious process of assimilation or absorption;

the spontaneous passage or diffusion of water or other solvents through a semipermeable membrane.

The walker on the city street stops to gaze at the ocean. Tracing a finger over dark, frozen seas, scattered archipelagos, tropical lagoons. On a rusting lamppost, ocean dissolves into city.

The walker walks on.

Off scene/obscene* – sheets of cracking ice, flows of meltwater, shifting landforms. The slow dissolve of city into ocean.

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* “obscene” from classical Greek theatre meaning “off scene” or “off stage.” Ancient Greek theatre did not show violence on stage; instead, this action took place off stage, out of sight of the audience.

Now playing – Lumen Drones – ‘Dark Sea’ from Lumen Drones.

 

Anthropo-obscene Rorschach Test

INEOS threatens to close UK plant unless it can dodge EU pollution rules

Unearthed, 23 March 2019.


When the mirror loses its reflection …

Hats off to Greta Thunberg and all others holding up the mirror.

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The Greenpeace article linked to above relates to the INEOS Seal Sands plant on Teesside.

Anthropo-obscene – see  as used by Erik Swyngedouw.

The photographs are of the INEOS/PetroIneos petrochemical plant and oil refinery at Grangemouth. They were taken on 10th December 2017.

Now playing: Iancu Dumitrescu  –Hazard and Tectonics

Back to the Forest of Spectral Trees


 

they came to stand and listen

a hushed communion

old gods. new gods.

 

 

uncanny colours, shapes and forms

the strange, disorienting world of the wild wood

 

 

listening station (listen in)

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Now playing: Harmonia & Eno ’76 – Tracks and Traces

The Fifty-Fourth Station of the Tōkaidō (in Kirkcaldy)

Perhaps there was a fifty-fourth station of the Tōkaidō.

What if Hiroshige transcended time and geography, sailed into Kirkcaldy harbour and placed a stone block in the outer walls of the library. A nod to an alternative Eastern Sea Road. A found poem of the East Fife coast:

Forth (Rail) Bridge –> North Queensferry –> Carlingnose Point –> West Ness –> Inverkeithing –> East Ness –> St David’s Bay –> Donibristle Bay –>  Dalgety Bay –> Braefoot Point –> Port Haven –> Aberdour –> Burntisland –> Pettycur –> Kinghorn –> Kirkcaldy –> Pathhead –> Dysart –> West Wemyss –> East Wemyss –> Buckhaven –> Methil –> Leven –> Lundin Links –> Lower Largo –> Largo Bay –> Ruddon’s Point –> Shell Bay –> Kincraig Point –> Chapel Point –> Earlsferry –> Elie –> St Monans –> Pans Goat –> Pittenweem –> Anstruther –> Cellardyke –> Caiplie Coves –> Crail –> Fife Ness –> Balcomie –> Cambo Sands –> Airbrow Point –> Babbet Ness –> Buddo Rock –> Kinkell Ness –> St Andrews –> Guardbridge –> Leuchars –> Tentsmuir Forest –> Lundin Bridge –> Tayport –> Tay Road Bridge.

Fifty-three stations. The Kirkcaldy pivot stone.

Looking out:

White spume of sea roar, deluge of slanted rain. Across the Forth, landform apparitions. The fate of unseen ships seeking safe harbour. Waves break upon the shore.

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Image found on a stone on the outer wall of Kirkcaldy Galleries and Library.

After The Fifty-three Stations of the Tōkaidō a series of ukiyo-e woodcut prints created by Utagawa Hiroshige after his first travel along the Tōkaidō in 1832.

Now playing: Toru Takemitsu – Toward the Sea / Rain Tree / Rain Spell

Glow / \ Black

W. J. Watson has suggested that this is a Pictish water-word, cognate with OW gloiu ‘liquid’, W gloyw ‘shiny’ (1926, 470), while Jacob King prefers a Celtic root *gleiwo- ‘gleaming, clear’.

Place Names of Fife (2006)

A Saturday in late April 2018. It feels like the first day of the year that the sun has risen with intent. Early morning fingers of buttery light offer the promise of holding the heat of the day and by mid-morning, a welcome blanket of ambient warmth has wrapped itself around the locality. After a run of grey skies and persistent rain, it seems like an opportune day to head a few miles north of Dunfermline, into the Cleish Hills, with a rough plan to have a look and wander around two lochs: the enticingly named Loch Glow and the more enigmatic sounding Black Loch.

As usually happens, idea takes precedence over planning and I completely fail to establish an actual starting point to begin the walk. I end up driving up the narrow back road to Cleish looking for some sign to indicate that it will lead to the lochs. A Forestry Commission entrance with a few parked cars looks fairly promising so decide to give it a shot.

Within minutes, I’m walking through tall pine trees on either side of the track. To the south, clearly an older part of the wood. A tangle of lichen encrusted branches with hanging tufted beards. As if a gaggle of small green ghosts had been snagged floating through.

To the north, clear evidence that this is a working forestry plantation with a winding wall of large pinewood trunks stacked well above human height.

A wall of time

Seasons circles

Stacked

Stored

The track eventually veers around to the right and I finally begin to sense that this will lead to the loch side. A small stream trickles by pooling in certain places where pine needles have fallen on the surface:

.

under the pines

a scattered fall

asemic writing

tree, sky and slow

slow water

.

Eventually, I reach the eastern side of Loch Glow and hadn’t expected to encounter an almost carnivalesque atmosphere taking place along the immediate south bank. People fishing, drinking beers, smoking, having picnics. It turns out that Rosyth Angling Club operate a well stocked fishery, where you can buy a day permit, and it’s easy to see why it is a popular spot today as the sun is now fully up in the sky. Some fisher folk sit holding their rods in zen like contemplation whilst larger groups are more up for a party. Some rods are cast, but rest unattended at the side of the water whilst tins are shared around and the crack and laughs open up. A bunch of Polish men, with much gesticulation, appear to debate a strategy for ensuring a good catch.

It doesn’t take long to walk beyond the core huddle of fishers and within minutes even the sound of human voices has completely dissolved under the blue sky in the shimmering waters. A solitary Christmas tree looks strangely out-of-place on the loch side.

I sit for a bit to look at the sky, clouds form into Rorschach shapes whilst surface patterns on water shift imperceptibly.

Sequestered

Another aspect that I hadn’t quite envisaged was just how boggy the land would be around the loch. No surprise really as I pass numerous small streams draining into it but it means that on a few occasions, I misjudge the solidity of the ground underfoot and I’m almost up to my knees in muddy slime. Reaching the western end of the loch, I head in the direction which I think will lead to Black Loch. A dry stane dyke looks like a reasonable marker to follow and the ground is a bit firmer underfoot.

I find a peacock butterfly also out enjoying the sun and try to imagine the story behind a lone glove snagged on a barbed wire fence. Is it a deliberate sign? a direction marker?

Even an absent hand casts a shadow …

As I move to some higher ground there is a clear sense of being watched. The sentinels of Knock Hill. A familiar landmark which can be observed from all directions around the West Fife landscape:

I descend towards Black Loch which is certainly defying its name today, instead a blue sheen nestles under the rocky outcrop of Dumglow.

I take a rest to watch several buzzards circling overhead. A silent tussle occurs when a crow takes exception to a buzzard flying too close. The elegant bird of prey, unconcerned, simply chooses to bank higher and ascend into the blue.

A trio of clouds scud along the summit of Dumglow

Cloud Summit

Listening for sound, it strikes me that this is a perhaps as close to the ‘idea of silence’ as it is possible to get. There is a stillness under the sun which blankets out any obvious noise, other than the occasional low hum of a passing insect. No planes in the sky, no distant traffic, strangely no bird song. Yet to look around, there are all the lines and layers of human marks on the landscape. The drystane dyke, the forest plantation, the fencing that runs up and disappears over the hill.

Looking away from the loch, I’m intrigued by a hermit tree, solitary in the landscape.

Down by the loch side, patterns of reeds pin overhead clouds to water, creating  a myriad of chiaroscuro effects:

.

spectrum wave of  unsounded

sound                    quiet  colour

cadence of reeds              break

arc of surface             fade

fade                 fades

the ambivalence of water

fades

Two white dots on Black Loch.  As I move closer to the water’s edge, they drift through the reed beds. An illusion of hovering over land rather than drifting through water. Such elegant creatures, as if visitors from another realm. Two white swans on Black Loch.

The prospect of continuing around Black Loch and up over Dumglow is appealing but looks like that would take a few more hours. Instead, I retrace the route back to Loch Glow and walk back around the north side. Once again, it is pretty much deserted until I reach the eastern side where fishing and associated activities remain in full flow. I’m also reminded that this is a functional reservoir, supplying drinking water for Cowdenbeath and the surrounding area. How often do we associate what comes out of our taps with a place like this? I’m reminded of Patrick Geddes: “it takes a whole region to make the city”. A simple reminder to question where and how our food, water and energy come from and how they are used. Basic questions presently exposing political failure as environmental crises manifest around the globe such as the poisoned water scandal in Flint Michigan and the Cape Town water shortage.

North side looking West
North side looking South

Looking back up the loch it is evident that Loch Glow is living up to its name this afternoon.

Liquid                     Shiny

Gleaming               Clear

From Knock Hill, the sentinels watch and approve.

And as I head back up the track, patterns of sinking sunlight dapple the time stacked wall.

The grain of the wood, the violence of the saw.

.

TIME WAS   /   \   SAW EMIT

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Now playing: Kim Mhyr – You | Me

Reference:

Simon Taylor; Gilbert Markus The Place-names of Fife: West Fife Between Leven and Forth v. 1 (Donington: Shaun Tyas, 2006).

Two Hours in the Lang Toun

Two hours.

I have just dropped off a bunch of excited teenagers at Kirkcaldy Ice Rink (now rebadged as Fife Ice Arena) for the afternoon skating session. With too little time to return home and do anything meaningful, it seems like a good opportunity to start walking into the locality and see what draws the attention. I increasingly find that often the most interesting walks develop out of  the imposed time constraints of everyday life. Start from where you are and see where it leads.

Two hours.

But first, I’m standing in front of an ice palace from the late Art Deco era. Designed by Williamson and Hubbard in 1937, the softened edges, horizontal lines, ribbon windows and vertical, coloured detailing conjure up a period in time when form was equally important as function. Apparently, the original restaurant featured Parker-Knoll chairs, monogrammed cutlery and curtains designed by Dame Laura Knight. This afternoon, under a high sun, the contrast of vibrant colours and ice cream white offers an elegant counterpoint to what would no doubt be constructed today as a functional leisure shed.

I’m in Gallatown at the North end of the ‘Lang Toun’ of Kirkcaldy. Initially, thinking the name may have been derived from some form of recurring gala festivities, I subsequently find out that it is a derivation of Gallows Town. Apparently, due to it being the site of numerous public executions in medieval times.

Gala

Galla

Gallo

Gallow

Gallows

Originally a small village in its own right, Gallatown, along with its near neighbours Sinclairtown and Pathhead, were parts of Dysart before becoming annexed as part of Kirkcaldy in 1876.

Walking down the main, arterial road into Kirkcaldy, Rosslyn Street merges into St Clair street. A clue to the history of this area in the street names. A reminder of how all land is property and often concentrated in the hands of a few. Sinclairtown developed from the 1750s on the estate of the Earls of Rosslyn and derives from their family name St Clair. (Also owners of Rosslyn Chapel).

This whole area developed as the industrial end of Kirkcaldy. A place of nail manufacture in the seventeenth century and site of the ‘pin factory’ studied by Adam Smith in The Wealth of Nations. Coal mining and power-loom weaving emerged in the mid eighteenth century and pottery manufacture in the early 1800s.

I walk past the entrance to Pottery Street but after a short walk down into what is now light industrial and residential buildings there appears to be little evidence of what once existed here. It is only on returning and approaching Rosslyn Street again that I notice a plinth in the grounds of a vet’s surgery.

The original site of the world famous Wemyss Ware pottery of Robert Heron and Son. The Chief Designer of the pottery was Karel Nekola from Bohemia, recruited by Robert Heron in 1882. A skilled, imaginative artist, he continued to work until his death in 1915. His sons Joseph and Carl also worked in the pottery. The original pottery closed during the Great Depression in 1930 and the rights to Wemyss Ware passed through several hands until Griselda Hill acquired and revived the name in the 1990s.

It is perhaps heartening to know that the spirit of the original pottery and the curious Wemyss cats continue to be tended by a veterinary practice.

Wemyss Ware cats. Public Domain image.

Walking further down the road above what is now the Happy Days Chinese Restaurant is a magnificent example of a Co-op bee skep. Presumably a former Co-operative Society building. Not quite as impressive as the magnificent trio in Leven but a fine reminder of the co-operative ideals of those Rochdale Pioneers.

On the other side of the road, a narrow path into a residential area.

Sun drawn cubist angles.

“Stewart Lod”.

I’m not sure where the boundary lines of Gallatown, Sinclairtown and Pathhead merge, but for these purposes it is a delight to encounter the colourful Puffins of Pathhead.

Behind is a Ladbrokes shop. A window of lurid coloured interpellation: Grab a Grand!; Win Free Machine Play Cash BoostGoal! Price Boost; Best Odds Guaranteed; £30 Free Bets on Your Mobile; Sunday, Now Open Longer.

Ladbrokes

Lad   Broke

Never a more aptly named chain designed to part people from their money. I don’t remember that many pearls of wisdom from my dad but one that sticks is that: “you never meet a poor bookie”.

On another wall close to the puffins, a golden eagle takes flight ready to pounce on a small mouse. The disorienting sun perhaps allowing the mouse a respite today. Off it floats on the back of a golden orb.

You cannot walk down St Clair Street without noticing Rejects. A gargantuan store by any standards and a family owned Fife institution selling everything for the home in twelve departments. There is also something delightfully perverse about deciding to name your retail emporium Rejects. I’m not sure what the received wisdom on retail marketing is, but I suspect this breaks most of it. Rejects also houses a very fine cafe but with the clock ticking, I have to pass on that today.

This is the weekend before ‘The Beast from the East’ arrived in Scotland and I’m starting to feel the cold around my ears. However, the sun is strong, bright and warming as I take a moment to watch the swaying, skeletal trees. How they shift slightly out of phase with the moving shadow forest projected on the wall of the car park. A Steve Reich piece playing out in visual form.

 

On the corner of Commercial Street sits a curio from the days of the Kirkcaldy tram network. A Bundy Clock was used to monitor tram services to ensure that they ran on time and according to timetable. When the tram driver reached the designated terminus, they would insert a unique key into ‘the Bundy’ and the time would be recorded. The Bundy clock was patented in 1890 by Willard Le Grand Bundy and mass production of employee monitoring systems began. A practice that has had workers clocking in and out under surveillance ever since. Of course, technology advances and Bundy Time Systems still appear to be around.  Their wares now include ‘Fingertec Biometric Packages’, ‘Face ID’ and ‘Easy Clocking Time and Attendance Systems’.

Walking along Commercial Street reveals a mix of some very old buildings. largely, in various states of disrepair. However, the Spiritualist Church is looking bright and sprightly. Thursday Healing. All Welcome.

At the end of the road, The ‘A Listed’ Feuars Arms proclaims its Victorian lineage back to 1859. Impressive stained glass windows reflect a more modernist addition to the landscape in the fifteen story Ravens Craig flats built in 1964-65.

 

 

Sparkling in the sun like pink sponge fingers with frosted, glazed balconies. The image provides a jarring contrast to imagining why Flesh Wynd may have gotten its name.

Not too far away from the Ravens Craig complex is Ravenscraig Castle. Local folklore claims that John Buchan named his novel The Thirty-Nine Steps after the path that leads down by the 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.

I’m becoming conscious of the time and need to start heading back towards the ice rink. I loop around and through what would once have been a colossal industrial area, dominated by the Nairn linoleum factory complex. Michael Nairn was initially involved in the weaving of ship’s sails but later entered into floor coverings. The original factory built at Pathhead, in 1847, was initially ridiculed and known locally as Nairn’s Folly. However, the venture proved a great success and by 1876, linoleum production had become a global industry centred on Kirkcaldy. The use of linseed oil in the production process was what gave the distinctive ‘queer-like smell’ highlighted in the poem The Boy in the Train written by Mary Campbell Smith in 1913:

I’ll sune be ringin ma Gran’ ma’s bell,

She’ll cry, “Come ben my laddie”

For I ken mysel’ by that queer-like smell

That the next stop’s Kirkcaddy!’

Most of the industrial complex has now gone but one operational factory unit remains, sitting in the vast empty space like some remnant from an imagined post-Packard Detroit.  The factory is clearly still productive as the distinctive, and not unpleasant, sweet smell is clearly discernible in the air. Perhaps a bit more localised these days rather than enveloping the entire town.

I meander through some of the side streets back towards the ice rink and whilst many buildings are in disarray, the sun is bringing out the best in them.  An old industrial fence morphs into beautiful, striped, colour field, minimalism.

A ‘found’ Gerhard Richter decays on an old wooden board.

An abstract landscape, framed in brick under a painted sky, sits in the alcove of a boarded up window. (Perhaps a found Howard Hodgkin, thanks to Hamer the Framer, added 07.04.2018):

Whilst a short history of building is revealed in an industrial assemblage of brick, stone, concrete and metal:

In dappled sunlight, a typographical erratic.

I am indebted to fellow travellers Laurence Mitchell and Alan Nance for the idea of the cultural erratic. This originally arose from a comment by Alan regarding Laurence’s piece  on re-purposed Kyrgyzstan railway wagons.  Alan’s comment is worth noting in full:

To use a landscape-related term, it strikes me that these wagons are like cultural (as opposed to glacial) erratics, whose presence, through interpretation, can tell us something about the forces and processes that shaped the place in which they are located).

It’s a great expression and in this particular instance, I like how EAST FIFE has somehow survived the weathering process, much like a glacial erratic left behind.

Another abandoned looking building draws the eye, due to the panel above the door:

Langtoun Aquarists Pondkeepers Group. Another cultural erratic? Is that a fish on the door blowing a bubble?

Sadly, I can’t spend any more time pottering around and hoof it back quickly to the ice rink. So quick that I’ve a few more minutes to spare before the skating finishes. I walk round by a mysterious, mausoleum looking structure. Some form of sub station? Or perhaps a sealed vault storing all the forgotten sounds, smells and memories of Gallows Town?

Behind the vault are some of what feel like the oldest buildings I’ve seen today. The narrow passage of School Lane. Just enough Sunlight leaking down the walls to outline a set of strange material interventions close to the ground. Portals of exit or entry?

And back to the car park just in time to catch the ice rink crowd spilling out into the sunshine. The tired teenage skaters, pile into the car and I listen to their stories of careering around the chilled interior of the ice palace.

Two hours.

Oh and almost forgot. Wasn’t particularly looking for it, but it’s always good to find it …

≈≈≈

This walk took place on Saturday 24th February, 2018.

Now playing: Steve Reich – Violin Phase

Spaces of Silence

1876

Out of the silence of centuries, discrete words will, one day, surface for us …

Edmond Jabès

 

 

text without words

 

 

unheard conversation

 

 

solitaire

(listening to the light)

 

 

setting sun reflects from a neighbour’s window

fading white wall whisper

shadow play, apple tree, evening breeze

 

 

spaces of silence

allow new possibilities

 

 

beyond the edgeless shape

 

≈≈≈

Now playing: Steve Roden & Stephen Vitiello – The Spaces Contained in Each