Bowling to Glasgow Walk Story

When it was nearly my fourteenth birthday, my uncle and auntie, Ian and Chris, wrote to me asking if I would like to go somewhere with them for a birthday treat. They enclosed a list of ideas, one of which was a walk along the Forth and Clyde Canal. I decided on this one, as I had already walked part of the canal and enjoyed it.

I couldn't give them a reply straight away as I caught the flu and couldn't go out. But when I was better I rang up their house to try and arrange something.

"I thought you were never going to phone!" said Chris when she answered. "Where would you like to go then?"

I said I'd decided on the canal walk, but wasn't sure exactly which section of the canal would be best.

"Well, there's the Bowling to Glasgow section", she said. "That's quite good. There's a place to stop for lunch and you get to cross the Maryhill Aqueduct. Then there's the middle section which is quite long and boring. And the bit at Falkirk I can't really remember, because I was very tired and just wanted to get home by the time we got to it."

I decided the Bowling to Glasgow section sounded best, and asked Chris to explain a bit more about it.

"It's about fourteen miles long", she said, "and it passes through some quite interesting places. There's a pub called Lock 27 where you can stop for lunch."

I took all this in, and then asked when would be the best time to go.

"What about Saturday?" Chris said.

I was surprised but pleased. I had expected to have to wait longer than that. I said Saturday would be fine.

"Right then", said Chris. "We'll pick you up at nine o'clock from your house."

So it was settled. On the cold, crisp morning of November the 20th 1993 I got up early and started packing my rucksack with a packed lunch, my camera and a fresh film, a map and various other bits and pieces essential for canal walking. At nine o'clock Ian and Chris arrived in their car with Ben, their black labrador. I said goodbye to my family and we set off.

As I was the guest, I was allowed to sit in the front and look at the map while Chris sat in the back with Ben on the muddy dog blanket ("It isn't as bad as it looks back here, actually", she commented). The weather was cold but clear. Soon we were zooming down the M8, unusually quiet at this time, towards Bowling and the start of our walk.

After a small delay on the Kingston Bridge in Glasgow, we eventually pulled into the station car park at Bowling. We all got out and stretched our limbs. It was icy cold but the sun was out and there was not a cloud in the sky.

"Where do we go now?" I asked, feeling fit and full of energy.

"To the toilet first", replied Ian. "It'll be the only chance we'll get for a long time."

So after a quick trip to the toilet, Ian led the way across a road and down a little path to the harbour where the canal meets the River Clyde. A large basin filled with boats of all shapes and sizes was connected to the river by a deep sealock, and the canal itself disappeared under a disused railway swing bridge at the far end. The rolling hillsides to the north and the frost on the grass gave a tranquil feeling that could not have been more unlike the canal's industrial past, the peace and quiet only broken by the constant cascade of water in the lock. Chris stood on the bridge and looked down at it while I took a photograph of the general scene.

Finally we set off along the canal, passing under the railway bridge. There was another slightly smaller and emptier basin, and another lock as the canal left Bowling and meandered its way along the narrow strip of land between the main road and the Clyde. The walk suddenly seemed much longer now we had actually started it. Even the Erskine Bridge was just a shadow looming high above the Clyde a mile or two away.

We walked on, occasionally passing a smartly painted lift bridge, or someone walking a dog. Eventually we reached the Erskine Bridge, which passed over us just by an old disused lock, with one of its pillars standing nearby like the foot of a concrete giant. The next bit of canal, like the last, still had a rural feel to it, but with an occasional bit of scenery.

"Don't worry", said Chris. "It gets more interesting."

Almost as soon as she spoke we rounded a corner and were in Clydebank. The canal promptly vanished under the main Glasgow to Dumbarton road. The street here was busy and we had plenty to look at while we waited for the lights to change at the pedestrian crossing. At the other side of the road we regained the towpath once more. The canal wound unobtrusively along behind some houses and there was a little footbridge.

But by this time we were starting to get quite hungry. I asked Chris if we could have our lunch soon rather than wait until Lock 27 where we'd originally planned to have it. She said that the Clydebank shopping centre was just round the corner, so we might as well find somewhere to have something hot and then have our packed lunches for tea later.

Round the corner, the Clydebank shopping centre went right across the canal, the pedestrian precinct crossing on a little bridge. Eagerly, we climbed up onto the path, quite busy as it was now after twelve, and looked for somewhere we could have a hot meal. Ian found a bakers' that sold good hot food as well, so Chris tied Ben up outside the Salvation Army opposite and we went inside to have our meals.

We all ate a lot after the long first stretch of the walk. While Ian and Chris drank their coffee, I made a map of the section we had walked so far. We weren't even half way through the walk yet, but I was still enjoying it and had enough energy left to carry on. The weather had brightened up a bit too, the midday sun melting some of the frost. After a quick trip to the toilet, we set off out of the bakers' to continue our walk.

We found someone had been feeding Ben dog biscuits while we were having our lunch, but he hadn't eaten the pink ones for some reason. Chris untied him and we went back to the canal and continued our journey eastwards. A giant boat was fixed in the canal on the opposite bank, and we wondered what it was. (I have since found out that it's actually a floating fish and chip shop!)

The towpath was quite busy for the next few miles; everyone in Clydebank seemed to be walking their dogs along it. As we passed the derelict Boghouse lock flight, I took some photographs and Ben somehow managed to appear in all of them. The sun was still out, and most of the ice on the canal had melted. I lagged behind a bit with Ben and looked at the locks, as I had not seen many locks before.

Soon we got to the place Ian had told me about where the canal was filled in for about half a mile and we had to cross a dual carriageway to continue. We got across the first carriageway easily enough, then got stuck in the middle for nearly five minutes waiting for a gap in the traffic. When we finally got across, there was a little canal-less stretch beside playing fields for us to walk. Ian was laughing at a sign that had been put up by British Waterways or some other organisation that said "Forth and Clyde Canal" with "In culvert" in very small letters underneath, with no sign of any canal. I told Ian about the silly sign in Linlithgow where there are two signs to a station car park pointing in opposite directions. We crossed another road and Ben narrowly avoided being run over.

I looked at my watch and it was about three o'clock in the afternoon. The day had gone quickly so far, but there were still another few miles to walk and we had still not even reached the place where we had originally planned to have lunch. The canal appeared again above another filled in lock, and I took another photograph.

At about half past three, we reached the place where we had planned to have lunch, the pub called Lock 27. It was just as well we hadn't waited until then, or we would have all just about dropped dead. I sat down on a bench and tried to fit a fresh film into my camera. Ben tried to "help", but I didn't really want him to.

I asked Ian how far we still had to go, and he said about five miles. We got up from the bench and walked on. I was not tired yet but I knew I wouldn't be able to go on for much longer. We crossed another road blockage, Ben being more careful this time.

At the other side of the road we started to get to the really interesting part of the walk. First we crossed the Kelvin Aqueduct, the biggest one on the canal. I went down underneath to take some photographs, and Ben came too, trying to jump in the river.

We returned to the canal and walked on, now passing the five Maryhill Locks and the steepest climb of our walk. It was by now beginning to get dark. At the next road crossing, Chris asked if I would like to leave the canal now and get the bus down to Glasgow, or carry on along the canal to the town centre. I was still not tired so I decided to carry on along the canal.

Typically, a few hundred yards further on I did start to feel really tired, but I didn't like to say anything. Soon we got to the junction where the branch canal into Glasgow joined the main line. I took a photograph, and my automatic camera helpfully rewound the film after only about nine pictures, leaving me with no film left for the last interesting stretch into Glasgow.

We carried on along the towpath, now following the Glasgow branch of the canal. The bridges on this section had all been replaced to allow boats through again, so we didn't have any more roads to cross. We passed the Partick Thistle football ground at Firhill, where there was a match on. We could see the pitch from the towpath, and several people were sitting on a high bank above the canal so they could watch the game without paying. Ian wanted to stay and watch himself, but Chris and I wouldn't let him.

By now it was really dark, and we had a good view of the lights over the whole of Glasgow. As we approached the final lap of our journey, we could hear the roar of traffic on the M8, and soon we rounded a corner and the canal suddenly ended. We stood there for a few moments getting our breath back and looking out over Glasgow, not speaking. During the day, Glasgow city centre is not the most picturesque of places, but at night all we could see was all the different coloured lights and it was quite pretty.

Chris was the first to break the silence.

"We'll have to go and find the station now, and catch a train back to Bowling," she said. "Do you know where the station is, Ian?"

"No," said Ian. "I thought you knew."

"Well, I know the vague direction of it," said Chris, and set off down a little path.

We found Queen Street station without too much difficulty, and enquired about the next train to Bowling. It was not for another half hour, but no-one objected to that after having walked fourteen miles. We stood on the platform and ate our remaining food, each thinking our separate thoughts. It had been an interesting walk, but it was longer than I'd imagined. I wondered when we would walk the rest of the canal, the middle bit that Chris had said was boring and the Falkirk bit which I had already walked some of. Maybe next year, I thought.

I was awakened from my thoughts by an announcement that no-one could make out, and then a few seconds later the Bowling train screeched into the station. We found seats near the door and relaxed for a bit. It only took the train a few minutes to go the distance it had taken us all day to walk.

At Bowling station we found the car still in the car park, much to Ian and Chris's relief, and we drove home. And that was the end of the walk, at least for a few months.

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