to the main canal pageKilsyth to Falkirk Walk Story
At Easter 1995, Ian and Chris arranged with me to finish walking the Forth and Clyde Canal by doing the remaining section between Kilsyth and Falkirk. They had a new car by this time, so the plan was to drive to Falkirk, get the train to Croy (near Auchinstarry) and walk back to Falkirk along the canal. It sounded so simple that nothing could go wrong.
On the day of the walk I packed my rucksack while I waited for Ian, Chris and Ben to arrive. I had, among other things, a huge box of Fruit Gums, three cans of Irn Bru and a pair of waterproof trousers. Soon there was a ring at the front door and Ian and Chris came in. They had a coffee, and then we set off. Chris had to sit in the back with Ben again. As we sped along the M9 towards Falkirk, I looked out the window at the weather. It was quite cold but not wet - good weather for canal walking. I wondered if this walk would be as interesting as our last two had been. This section of canal was quite a bit shorter than the others, and also Chris had said it wasn't as interesting. I decided this walk would probably not be as eventful as the others.
I was proved wrong more quickly than I would have thought possible. First of all, it took us quite some time to actually find Falkirk station as there didn't appear to be any signs pointing to it. After finally locating it and parking the car in the car park, we all got out. Ian and Chris got their walking boots on, then Ian bought the train tickets and we stood on the platform waiting for the 10:56 to Glasgow, stopping at Camelon, Croy and Lenzie.
By 11:05 there was still no sign of the 10:56. Eventually a station official came out and informed us that a broken down freight train was blocking the line and there would be no trains to Croy for a while.
"We'll have to get the bus to Kilsyth instead," said Ian. After persuading the ticket office to refund Ian's money, we made our way across Falkirk to the bus station. Typically we found we'd just missed a bus to Kilsyth - sometimes it can be quite amazing how seemingly unconnected public transport services can gang up to make your life difficult. We now had half an hour to wait, so we went into the cafe we'd discovered on our last walk and ordered two coffees and a hot chocolate.
But it was twenty minutes before the drinks came and even then they were so hot we had to wait for them to cool down. One minute before the Kilsyth bus was due I gulped down the remains of my steaming hot chocolate, and we made a dash for the bus station.
Then came our first bit of good luck of the day - we were in time for the bus. As it carried us towards Kilsyth, I listened to two boys in the seat in front talking about "The Simpsons", and Ian started to eat his lunch. The main street in Kilsyth looked horribly familiar as the bus pulled round the corner, revealing the bus stop we had waited at for an hour and a half last year. We had no desire to look at it for any longer than necessary, so we quickly turned our backs to it and set off down the road which led to the canal.
I looked at my watch as we walked. Half past twelve already. It was three hours since we'd set off from my house, and we hadn't even seen the canal yet. Even the walk from Kilsyth to Auchinstarry Swing Bridge seemed twice as long now as it had done last time.
Then finally, we rounded a corner and there it was. We weren't the only ones who had given up our Saturday morning lie-ins to come to this remote part of the canal: some canal society members were there too, on board their boat, the "Gipsy Princess". We turned onto the towpath and started walking, keen to get on now after all the delays. The cold wind was blowing in our faces as we walked, which was annoying, as we had planned to walk in this direction deliberately so that the wind would probably be on our backs.
By this time, Chris and I were starting to get hungry. Ian had eaten most of his lunch on the bus, but we had had nothing since breakfast. So at the next bridge, we sat down on a grassy bank and had our lunch. Ben ran about as we ate, falling in the canal feeder and running about in front of cars in a nearby car park. I talked to Ian and Chris about the exams I had coming up, and they told me some funny stories about theirs. After a while it got too cold to be sitting still, and we walked on again.
The next stretch of canal was very wide and absolutely straight, so we could see for miles into the distance. We passed some fishermen sitting in a little tent - their rods were set up by the canal so that they triggered some kind of alarm when a fish was caught. I had always thought the point of fishing was to sit on the bank holding your rod, so this method seemed a bit pointless to me. We decided between us that they probably thought it was pointless for us to be walking along a canal too. As we walked, we saw various bits of rubbish that had been dumped in the water and on the towpath - a lot of traffic cones, and even a television - strange, as you would have to walk miles from the nearest road to dump them there.
Finally, after a few miles, the straight stretch ended and we rounded a corner into Banknock. There was a lock with a bridge over it, and several people fishing (properly this time) and walking their dogs. The lock looked as if it might be almost in working order, but there were too many people about for us to examine it very closely without getting some funny looks. Ian and I took some photographs of the scene before moving on.
Round the next corner the canal was blocked by the A80 dual carriageway, and we had to go through a horrible, smelly little underpass. We talked about possible ways to remove the blockage, but no-one had any sensible ideas.
At the other side of the road, we were nearly run over by someone driving along the towpath to a cottage by a lock. We had a look at the lock and found it had been restored, so Ian and I had a go at opening and closing the new bottom gates, while Chris stood there looking embarassed.
"I've always wanted to try this," Ian said. "But I've never dared to on the Crinan Canal in case the lock keeper comes out and shouts at me."
"Someone'll probably come out of that house and shout at you in a minute!" said Chris. We swung the gates back into the same position they had been in when we arrived. No-one shouted at us, but we moved on all the same.
At the next lock was a new canalside pub. We were quite hungry and thirsty by this time, so we went in and had a look round. It was very posh and some tidy looking families were eating big meals, and looking surprised to see a bunch of scruffy walkers like us come in. We looked round all over the place to try and find someone serving, but no-one was about.
"They must have seen us coming and run away," I said.
Luckily we still had some food and drink of our own left, so as we walked we looked for a good place to stop for a snack. It was outside Bonnybridge, when we found a stopping place, that the highlight of the walk came. As we sat on the canal bank eating, Ben looked wistfully down at the canal water a few feet below, wishing he could get a drink.
"I don't think you can get down there, Ben", began Ian, but it was too late. Ben took a dramatic jump down the bank, landing on a narrow beach just next to the canal with his head nearly in the water.
"Bloody hell, Ben!" exclaimed Chris, too surprised to say anything else.
"How's he going to get back up?" I said, and then had a laughing fit.
We left Ben down there while we finished our afternoon snack. Some people came past with a black labrador of their own, which promptly jumped down the bank as well! But the other labrador was a young one who could easily get out, while Ben remained well and truly stuck. In the end Chris had to climb down there and hoist him back up, while Ian took some action photographs and I watched and laughed.
By this time we were nearly in Falkirk. None of us had the energy to carry on down the final lock flight to the canal's end at Grangemouth, so we left the towpath at Camelon. The station car park proved even more difficult to find from this direction than it had been from the main road, so by the time we finally reached it we all needed a cup of coffee from Ian's thermos flask (except Ben, who had the left over milk.)
Ian followed the road signs for Edinburgh as we drove back home, which was a mistake, as we ended up on the approach road for the Kincardine Bridge instead. But there was something satisfying about having managed to complete the walk despite all odds being seemingly against us.