A LATE WALK, WHICH WE NEARLY DID EARLIER!

 We were a week late with our June walk. It had been postponed from the due date because of atrocious weather. That was one of the very few times that has ever happened.

Luckily, the weather on the following Sunday was much more clement, although the local Herring Gulls seemed to think that there might be stormy conditions at sea, or else they just realised that the darker car roofs were the warmest places to sit.

Soon, we were all gathered in the car park in Dingwall, ready for action.

The walk was intended to include a visit to the MacDonald Monument, which overlooks much of Dingwall. We could see it from the car park, but would we get there later in the day?

We were parked next to the doctor's surgery, the Shopmobility building and the public toilets. Does this say something about our advancing years?

From the car park to the High Street is no distance at all. Certainly you would be unlikely to develop a stitch in the time it took us. However, someone had been busy knitting lots of things to cover over bollards, post boxes and all manner of street furniture as it is known.

It was everywhere!

One of the most imposing buildings in the High Street is the Town Hall. This was built in 1745 and subsequently altered in 1773 and 1905. Whilst I attended a number of meetings in the building, it is perhaps better known for the fact that The Beatles played there in January 1963. I definitely appeared before more people than them, The Beatles could only attract an audience of 19, because the local band, The Melotones, were playing in the Pavilion at Strathpeffer that night. I expect it was one of the smallest crowds they played before. Having said that, if you speak to Dingwallians of a certain age, they will all claim to have been there!

This obelisk commemorates the Earl of Cromartie. It is also thought to mark the site of a Moothill. This post dates the supposed location of the Viking Parliament or Thing from which Dingwall gets its name. The Gaelic name for the town is Inbhir Pheofharain - the mouth of the River Peffery. It is also known as Baile Chail - Cabbage Town. I suspect the Dingwallians prefer to talk up the Viking heritage.

Interestingly, The First Earl of Cromartie's memorial was rebuilt in 1923, a year after the original memorial was taken down. Not terribly remarkable. However, more remarkably, the Earl's body was buried in a lead coffin 8 foot 6 inches south of this site. There were 4 other bodies beside the Earl's coffin. I know this because the plaque is remarkably precise

Next door to the Earl's monument is this Mediaeval and later graveyard. The ivy clad and scaffolded building remains to the rear are what is left of St Clement's Aisle. This has nothing to do with the Rangers manager, but it is the very old remnant of a church dating from at least 1510 - well over 500 years old. It was once a thatched church, but this burnt almost to the ground in 1731 as a result of one of the town burgesses shooting a pigeon!

So, Dingwall is pretty old and was once a very important place.

In fact, it was so prosperous that the Town Council commissioned the building of the canal in 1815. Up until then, Dingwall had harbour type facilities right on the coast. However, these silted up over time and the town became detached from the sea. This large scale silting of the head of the Firth should have been sufficient warning to the builders not to form a canal by diverting the River Peffery into an artificial channel. It was not heeded and the canal silted up and became disused within 70 years.

There is a nice wee walk along the south bank of the canal, which we took.

Nearby to the canal once stood Dingwall Castle, which was the largest Castle in Scotland  north of Stirling. Almost nothing remains of the castle.

Just east of the castle site is the home of Ross County and the Highland Football Academy. Ross County's ground, Victoria Park, is a little unusual in that it has a capacity greater than the town within which it sits. The 2022 census noted 5265 people living in the town, while the ground can hold 6541 fans.

Lots of little ducklings on the canal.

There are lots of conkers on the chestnut trees as well.

Dingwall's version of the Sycamore Gap. At least the tree is still standing!

Here are the Dinos standing on the bridge beside the standing tree.

Looking back along the canal to the town.

Looking out to sea. The expanse of sand hints at the issues with silting of the canal and the Firth. Dingwall was doomed not to be a port town.

Away in the distance is the Cromarty Bridge. This bridge means no vessels will ever get to the town, and the road realignment means that Dingwall is no longer on the main A9 north.

You can see some of the remains of the canal-side infrastructure.

The bridge is named after James Blake. He was a young man who died at the age of 33. He loved to walk along the canal and often used the previous bridge at the site. That became unsafe to use in 2017 and the bridge was closed. James' family eventually stepped in and funded a new bridge in memory of their son who had died in February 2019. By December of that year the  new bridge was in place and open to the public.

Where the canal meets the Firth.

This rather enigmatic sculpture sits at the end of the canal. It is said to represent Fyrish monument, which is, apparently, visible from here - although I didn't notice it. There is a little stone beside the sculpture which says it commemorates the 1991 Mod held in Dingwall and the sculptors name is given as Jim Ritchie. Now the only local Jim Ritchie, sculptor, I can find lives in Muir of Ord. So far so good. However, he graduated from my Alma Mater of Duncan of Jordanstone College of Art in 2015. Given he looks very young on his web pages, I rather doubt he made this in 1991.

There is another JIm Ritchie, who was a Canadian sculptor, who died in 2017. He was influenced by Cubism and Modernism and often depicted the human figure in an angular and stylistic way - so, you never know, but I doubt it.

A mystery it will remain.

Rather less symbolic, perhaps, two oystercatchers sitting on what looks like the eye of a needle.

Looking up the Firth towards the east.

Time for lunch. Just as well there was a handy picnic bench just where we needed it. Everybody had their sunnys on, except for Dave, who just closed his eyes.

After a spot of sustenance, we were off up the side of the Firth.

The silting at the mouth of the Conon has taken place over such a long time, that the sand bars are now islands covered in vegetation.

A short row of buildings that the historical record gives as salmon bothies dating to the 19th and 20th centuries. I don't believe that salmon netting took place here any time this century.

Just past the bothies, we headed away from the Firth towards the railway line, which we crossed without incident!

It was even easier to get across, or rather, under, the A862.

Spooky!

It was uphill all the way here. This rather grand looking enclosure hides a somewhat overgrown covered water reservoir.

This was a bit of a theme on the climb uphill. This elderly water works is still in use for Dingwall today. The town was granted Royal Burgh status in 1226 and this lasted until these were abolished at local government reorganisation in 1975 almost 750 years! So the water works is at least 50 years old. It actually looks more like the 1930's to me, but it is not listed in the historical buildings website.

You get nice views to the west from here.

Another water works.

Rather more modern was a single wind turbine.

Our particular summit was 100 metres exactly above sea level and you had some very fine views in all directions.

Out to sea.

Back to the west.

Over Dingwall.

At the top of the hill, someone had helpfully put a bench and a sign suggesting we have a rest and enjoy the view. We enjoyed he view, but didn't risk the rest!

Looking back down towards Dingwall and the canal where we started our walk.

On the way down the wee road, there were some little fairy tale and nursery rhyme references. This was the goose who laid the golden egg. I'm pretty sure it wasn't real gold!

The owl and the pussy cat.

Hickory Dickory Dock.

A little fairy house.

Another wee hoose.

Incy wincy spider was up this drain pipe.

A fox spookily passing through a tree.

The sign says it all.

From the fairy road, we went up to a cemetery, along a nicely dappled path.

We were really here to see this imposing memorial to Major General Sir Hector Archibald MacDonald. He was the son of a crofter and stonemason from Rootfield, not far from Dingwall. Remarkably his mother was Ann Boyd, daughter of John Boyd of Whitebridge (where we had our November getaway) and Cradlehall (where 10 dinosaurs live)! Spooky!

In any event, Hector enlisted in 1871 and worked his way through the ranks to become a Major General in 1900. He was knighted in the same year. His rise through the ranks was almost unheard of. He was also a hugely popular hero due to his actions on the battlefield.

During the Second Afghan War he was offered the choice of the Victoria Cross or to be become commissioned in his regiment. He chose to become an officer. He was widely credited with saving Lord Kitchener's troops and reputation at the Battle of Omdurman and many Scots felt he was the hero and not Kitchener.

In 1902 he was posted to Ceylon and assumed command of the British troops there. However, it was there that rumours of homosexual activity with young men and boys began to surface. The alleged offences involved the sons of prominent locals and British families. He was advised to return to London to avoid any scandal. He was allegedly told by the King that the best option would be to shoot himself!

He was then advised to return to Ceylon to be court martialled and perhaps clear his name. (His alleged crimes were not illegal in Ceylon at the time). This was confirmed in Ceylon and whilst in Paris on his way there, Hector read of the impending charges and court martial over his breakfast. He finished his eggs and retired to his room where he shot himself.

This caused huge shock in Britain and Scotland. It transpired that he had married a fifteen year old girl in 1884, when he was twice her age. They had a son together, but only saw each other 4 times over the next nineteen years! HIs wife died in 1911 and his son in 1951.

A subsequent found him innocent of any crime attributed to him. Indeed, the findings suggest that the allegations were fabricated due to his lowly background and he was the victim of a conspiracy. Similar rumours had surfaced about other military commanders, but only Hector was to face a court martial.

He remains a hero to some to this day and this monument and others around the Black Isle and in Edinburgh testify to the affection in which he was held.

He was also said to be the model for the kilted soldier depicted on Camp coffee bottles.

What an ending to a fascinating walk organised by Susan and Robin. Much better in the fine day we had rather than the horizontal rain we were faced with on the original date.

Well done to them also for sorting out tea and buns at The Highland Farm Café after the walk.

Another good day out.