A Magical Mystery Tour. Part Two. Bellahouston Park.

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In Bonnie Scotland there was a month long dry spell recently, throughout May of 2025 so I took advantage of this rare occurrence and was outdoors a lot.  I now have a backlog of posts. On the same sunny morning as the murals in the last post my final destination was Bellahouston Park. A south side green oasis within the City of Glasgow and one of my favourites places to visit since childhood. In past years during visits it usually had metal fences up, here above, and extensive drainage works going on... but now it's back to its best.

Apart from being a lovely park to walk through, with plenty of interesting features, it also has panoramic views.

Views all the more remarkable due to the fact that you are still deep within a large city here yet the view south and west is one of trees stretching to the far horizon with very few houses in sight. The Great Wood of Pollok. My chosen Kingdom. I grew up here. Many happy decades. A medieval view...so.... a perfect backdrop for a minor knight perhaps, on a lifelong quest.

Pollok Wood and The Brownside Braes. Another happy hunting ground for myself.... Mary Queen of Scots, Lord Darnley, Charles Tennant (Industrialist), Charles Macintosh ( Waterproof Raincoat Pioneer), Catherine Cranston ( Tearoom Owner and C.R.M. patron)... and Jenny Lind (Swedish Opera Star... So I'm always in period company wandering through here with the shadows and echoes of past souls lingering. A great peaceful woodland now....... that often hides surprising secrets and past history.

 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Tennant

 

A honeysuckle hedge. In the 24c degree heat I could smell it long before I spotted it. Buttered Toast and Acacia honey is my favourite treat every Spring.  Each new month create....   a calendar of the senses.

Bellahouston's walled garden was looking fine as well thanks to hard working gardeners tending the various plant beds. Minions. Oompa- loompas.  I used to be one myself. In May it's tulip Time.

A blue contrast.

Sun lit white tulips.

Orange poppies.

A closer view.

Mature deciduous trees have always been my real love and passion, even more than mountains...  growing right beside and above me from my earliest memories.....so I'm only returning to my roots in old age... or my mycelium. Providing shelter from wind and rain in certain conditions..... welcome cool shade on this particular stunning hot afternoon.

Always a joy to come to this park.... especially in Spring. 40 different shades of green.... or grey....

C.R.M's House for an Art Lover. A side view.

Moss Heights in Cardonald District.

Clematis on a trellis.      The Queen of the Climbing Plants.

Looking towards the district where I grew up in the 1950s/ 1960s/ 1970s. Many times blessed and fortunate to come from here. It truly is........ The Beautiful South. 

I was looking across at this high point when I realized that I must have climbed it yet had no recollection of ever doing so. I've been up every hill in the wider area large or small.  Then I twigged that the woods would have obscured any view from it once up there. A new mission therefore... next time I would walk up there, marking the exact spot from the darker pine trees of the North Wood, so that I would be aware I was actually standing on a hill top.... even though obscured deep in the middle of the great forest. A new quest awaited me.

 Blissfully happy, I had lunch under a tree in the heart of my kingdom... my muse sitting on the scented grass beside me, making a daisy chain for her head. Let's call her Guinevere in this instance. One raspberry cream trifle, one strawberry tart, one ginger beer, one cheese and tomato sandwich each. With Alice.... in my Wonderland. I grew up.... and still live..... in this green and blue Heaven. A pure nature hedonist....but on a tight budget :o)

The end.

A Magical Mystery Tour. Part One. New Murals.

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I galloped out one fine sunny morning on my new metal steed, after six long years of vehicular lockdown... like Mr Toad in Wind in the Willows...., I was back behind the wheel of a powerful motor car again. No longer chained in the stygian gloom of a deep dungeon grim and cold. I was free, fancy, and on a quest/ request from my true Queen.  The muse herself. "Go forth and seek out new murals throughout my fair Queendom" She commanded me. New murals to me at least.

The first one I tracked down easily enough on Paisley Road West. I am reliably informed this is early 1930s Winnie Drinkwater. A proud Cardonald resident back then and the world's first female to hold a commercial pilot's licence. Also went on to become only a handful of early female aeronautical engineers. So a true pioneer in both fields.  

A short distance away, also Paisley Road West/ Cardonald District,  I found another full gable end mural of a Scottish Piper and typical Highland scenery as a backdrop  Both good additions to the neighbourhood. There is a third but that one will have to wait.

I then galloped onwards to the Love and Peace underpass where more colour filled scenes of wonder awaited my inspection. On arrival a large police presence made itself known to me. 'Terror and carnage at the Peace and Love Underpass' unfurled the news headlines in my fertile imagination.

"What's afoot here, Good Sir's?" I inquired of the nearest Rozzers. Information was not forthcoming however so I then asked them if they would keep an eye on my car instead. Despite the bright colours the surrounding neighbourhood had a fey disposition of the darker kind and having just acquired my trusty steed I did not want to see it disappearing so soon after purchase.  My request was declined but I remained undaunted in my cheery optimism of humanity.

 Local characters filled the walls of the underpass. "Where is this strange place?" I asked them.

 "The House of Lint. " I was informed. " It sits on the southern edge of the Great Divide between two different realms... reached by descent into the underworld. This is but one gateway. Observe. Every day, every hour,  numerous dragons of different sizes roar in and out of it breathing fire and fumes." 

"Yes. Many, many years ago" I now remembered. "I myself have seen inside this great hole on foot..... and the ancient hole before that with my father as a young child. Cart and horse back then. Truly a remarkable sight." 

"Today though I shall pass through this lesser hole to reach the other side. Goodbye sweet Pilgrims." 

"Good luck then." They replied.

Like all these dark gateways of old many cautionary tales are told by brave travellers of the perils that may await unsuspecting folk within. Similar to passing from a bright green meadow to a dark brooding forest. Wolves, great beasts and bad tempered bears occasionally prowl through them and admittedly there was some evidence left of their spoor on this particular occasion. 

I retreated back out again. "Forsooth! ....I must have an amulet or lucky charm before venturing through this foul abode." I decided belatedly. In one deep corner of the underpass entrance  however I soon discovered an ornate bottle wrapped in lurid flowing script which winked at me with the words 'Drink me' stamped on it in tiny silver letters. Apparently a bravery juice created years ago by certain monks in the iconic and pretty Devon vale  Fast of Buck...............for just such an event as this one I needed speed....... So like all good storybook characters... I did take it.  As a proud if minor knight I do like a good swally now and again. I drained the bottle in one go. A completely different and less pleasant taste to the last occasion I had need of it... but no matter... an open bottle still a welcome find.....

Nothing happened for over a minute.... then this transformation occurred....

Now I was fully equipped to enter this underworld. Down the fuzzy rabbit hole I crawled.

In my newly befuddled state many strange things and sights occurred in that devilish tunnel. A white paper bag lying on the ground suddenly turned into a hopping rabbit. I also lost the power of coherent speech for a while. 

"What way now White Wabbit? I muttered, as my voice  and brain cells slowly returned.

"We wait here for the red Queen." He replied. " She/he holds all the cards."

"Am I a card?" I replied, looking down at rapidly distorting hands and feet.

"You are not even in the game." He replied. Very Serious. "Pay attention." 

A strange tiny creature then appeared up in one corner spinning a complex web of silken threads. It smiled down benignly at me. " She/he only thinks she does. I have more. Many more cards. You wait and see." With a huge grin it then vanished completely until only the silk web remained.

"That was Hieronymus."  the rabbit explained. " He's in the habit of doing that. Very annoying."

Like all dark forests I eventually reached the other side.

And the surroundings turned bright and sunny again.

Which was much more enjoyable.

A happy granny. In Govan....

Hope and Peace. In Sunny Govan. At the Peace and Love Underpass.

More locals.

And two gable ends... to end with...

Yet the quest was not yet over....

 

A Glen Etive Weekend. Scottish Mountain Photography.

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A weekend about five weeks ago saw myself, Alan and Alan's friend Alexander take a trip to Glen Etive, which is a side glen off the more famous Glen Coe. It's been several years since we'd been down it and the main change seems to be more signs up warning visitors not to have fires or park in passing places. You used to be able to wild camp down Glen Etive in several locations but there was a problem with anti social behaviour and rubbish left behind so the opportunity for camping along the glen has definitely decreased. You can still do it but it does look harder to pick a spot. Like everywhere else in Scotland tourism seems to be on the increase and parked camper vans ( very popular nowadays) outnumbered tents by around ten to one in the various laybys. We ended up going right to the bottom of the glen around the head of Loch Etive where we did find a grassy spot for around a dozen or so tents. Buachaille Etive Mor, above. 1022 metres.

The weather was not that great on the day we arrived with the cloud low over the mountains and occasional showers of rain. I used to really enjoy Glen Etive decades ago and it is a spectacular glen if you are just sightseeing or bagging Munros but like most of the Scottish Highlands, unlike the Lake District, there's not that many scenic easy low level walks to be had.

I could only think of one and we did it the next day.  This is the landrover track that crosses the River Etive via a bridge going to Glenceitein House and a couple of man made private fishing ponds. 

 A view taken from the bridge. Some deep pools exist on the River Etive and some fine rocky sections where the river has carved and sculpted the rock, popular with sport kayakers using stubby craft cable of dropping into said pools without damage.

Between rain showers we stuck the tents up at the head of Loch Etive before it got dark. My euro hike tent is around 20 years old so myself and Alexander got fairly wet during the night in our tents as it rained heavily for most of it and water got in. A soggy experience. Alan was OK and stayed dry.

On the plus side we woke to a beautiful morning with clear skies and fantastic reflections. A photographers dream. Ben Cruachan here. A Munro at 1126 metres. The floating pier for forestry log removal.

I was out the tent early getting some shots before the light changed. An hour can make a real difference, or a light wind springing up over the water surface, ruining any reflections.

But our luck held.

Hillside reflection.

A lone kayaker with Ben Cruachan in the distance. Loch Etive view. This is an hour later and the crystal clear reflections have dissipated. 

I was also keen to photograph the Etive Slabs, a former club rock climbing venue from a couple of decades ago. Although they don't look that steep here.... they are when you stand underneath them, requiring ropes and an ability to climb VS or above. Something of a nostalgia trip for me as I thought back to previous visits bagging all the Munros here or ascending Spartan Slab. VS.

This is me soloing the East Coast sea cliffs near St Abbs around 2009 and I can tell you now I'm definitely not the same guy. Back then I was confident in my scrambling ability even though a slip or fall would probably mean hitting the sea and certain death. Approaching 70 years of age I would never dream of doing this now... or of willingly attempting any of the Munros again. I happily accept I've passed that stage. 

And I'm content doing lower level stuff. We did a couple of easy valley walks here but as I said there's not really a lot to do in Glen Etive if you are not rock climbing, kayaking, swimming, cycling or Munro bagging. 

But the scenery is good. A waterfall here on Ben Starav, 1078 metres. Must be 30 years since I last climbed these Munros. Still a glen loud with cuckoo's calling every spring. On another low level walk we passed a couple of mountain bikers wheeling their bikes over rough ground, travelling beyond the pier down the trackless western side of Loch Etive. Unless there's a new track completed not on my old OS map at least 6km of tough trackless walking with bikes until a track appears next/again at Barrs or one high up in the forest. Not a journey I'd pick to do, even 30 years ago. A lot of tough walking... with a bike to manhandle. Then many miles of up and down forestry track to eventually reach  Bonawe and a decent tarmac road again. I did a similar route down a different sea loch  at Glenfinnan many years ago on a bike and had to admit I was bored and frustrated most of the way. Looking down the full length of Loch Shiel from the Glenfinnan Monument to Glen Hurich it always looked so wild and magnificent but the landrover track constant roller coaster reality down the loch shoreline proved otherwise in an age before electric bike assistance and I was very glad when it ended. It was also unexpectedly industrial with a lot of timber extraction going on when I did it .... log lorries and wood piles dotted everywhere along the track.

A silver mountain... or just the way the sunlight is hitting a wet stream bed. I remember a cracking walk up these exposed slabs in the late 1980s and a great deep narrow gorge ascent to reach Stob Coir'an Albannaich, 1044 metres. Two memory episodes that feel as distant and remote as any past life.

Curved Ridge. Another past life memory of dozens of different trips here. Numerous rock climbs in sweaty humid heat. January Jigsaw. Agag's Groove, North Buttress, Or hot sunny bone dry days.... or frost and heavy snow winter ascents. Solo or roped up with various mountaineering partners, most long gone by now. To me at least. A climbers mecca.

Passing place signs. Thanks to Alan for the driving as I was free to take these photographs.

A rock tower in Glen Etive. Been up this one as well.

Swallows on a wire.

Emperor Moth at the campsite. It you ever wondered what the cuckoos feed on when they are over here from Africa it's fat juicy moth caterpillars. I noticed a lot of folk, having motored down the full length of the dead end road to Loch Etive and our campsite only spent five minutes here looking around then headed straight back up the single track road again. a round stop- start trip of close to an hour, depending on volume of traffic/campervans coming the other way. 

Luckily it wasn't too busy when we did it.

Motoring back down Loch Lomond side. Thanks to Alan for the driving and the idea to come here for the weekend.