Thursday 9 August 2012

8 August 2012 - Paris

LAST DAY IN EUROPE - Time does go so fast.

After our stay in Yorkshire we headed down the A2 to Sandway in Kent where we spen 2 days with our friends Margaret and Peter.  Their house is a lovely 4 bedroom 3 storey quirky place built on ancient farm cottages.  Floors are not level and the walls are 3 feet thick, but it is very comfortable and well provided.  From the patio you can see 30 miles over the Weald into Sussex with almost no houses in sight.  One of the main memories I have of the house is the access - from the nearest village it is 2 miles through country roads that are 2m wide with high hedges either side and a regular traffic of very large tractors with even larger trailers always heading in the opposing direction.  That is just to get to the gate - there is another 1/2 mile of a rough gravel track to reach the house.

Gillian and friend Jack at Sandway

Then 2 days in Paris - we have kept it simple with a wander down Champs-Elysee, visits to Sacre-Coeur, Notre-Dame and the Eiffel Tower and as much time as we could stand in the Louvre.

 Champs Elysee looking toward Arc de Triomphe

 When you're in Paris you have to visit.

Sacre Coeur and crowds.

We are now packing for the trip home - we have a 14 hour stopover in Kuala Lumpur which we may well spend in our dayroom at the airport, depending on the weather.

So this is Stephen signing off from Paris.

Friday 3 August 2012


3 August 2012 – West Witton

Yesterday was the grand tour of the dales in circuit that took in Swaledale, Wharfedale, Coverdale, Wensleydale and Arkengarthdate. We had a suggested route from our hosts which took us over the moors and through the dales with stops at Askrigg and Hawes to visit locations used for the TV series All Creatures Great & Small.  Once again the gentle valleys, dry stone walls, small market towns and mellow stone buildings created a gentle image of farming in a bygone age.  The cows can be weird too...

 A pub in Askrigg used in the TV series

The market square in Hawes, also used in the series
 
 A view over Wharfedale

A local

I thoroughly enjoyed  the roads, but Gillian has worn her fingernails to the bone hanging on in terror. I should mention that we stopped in Hawes and wandered round finishing up up gthe Wensleydale Creamery.  Here they have over 25 cheeses available for free tasting.  After the first dozen it is hard to remember the order of preference and to find room for lunch afterwards.

Today we spent time in Bolton Castle, principally famous as the prison for Mary Queen of Scots, but had to rush the visit as it was closing for the afternoon for a wedding. The exterior of the castle is impressive as it is still the full height in most ares and once inside it is larger than it looked. The Parliamentary forces tried to destroy it in the 1600's, but a reasonable amount still remains including the shell of the guest tower & great hall, the family rooms where Mary was kept, 2 major reception rooms and most of the ground floor rooms. The castle was built in the 1300's and reflects the wealth and status of the Scrope family with lavish proportions and facilities – even the dungeon has an en-suite garde-robe (loo).

 Bolton Castle

 Looking down into the courtyard from the battlements
This is at a 6th floor level !

While we were there we watched a demonstration of hawk handling in the courtyard. Apparently the family makeup involves one female with 2 or more males to keep her company...

 A hawk landed on his handler.

We then wandered around the market town of Richmond which is centred around a large cobbled marketplace and has the obligatory large castle overlooking it.


 Marketplace at Richmond
Richmond Castle

And I thought the idea for the military was to catch the world by surprise.....

A road sign seen on the moors
 

Thursday 2 August 2012

2 August 2012 - West Witton

We're now in the Yorkshire Dales.  The trip from Scotland took a full day and the only break was a visit to the family castle at Mitford.  While we have no reliable evidence it would be nice to be able to claim a link back to Sir Roger Bertram, one of William the Conc's Norman knights who built a castle here.  The castle was a earth and wood fort in the 10 century and the existing stone work probably dates from the mid 11th century.  In any case it was entirely destroyed before 1325.  Unfortunately the Bertram family chose the wrong side in a dispute and consequently had the lands seized by the king around 1315.

We had a few hassles finding the place and eventually pulled into the side of a narrow country lane to Gillian's "Why are we stopping here? OH MY GOD THAT'S THE CASTLE" with a view up to a couple of derelict pieces of stonework.  We found a narrow muddy path leading up the hill and found the remains were more impressive than appeared from the road.  The bailey (flat area with living accommodation) was extensive and the motte (formed defended hill) rose some 15m above the bailey.  There had been a substantial wall around the bailey, another around the top of the motte and inside the motte wall there is the base of an unusual pentagonal shaped keep.  All that remains now are portions of each wall and the base and cellar of the crypt.  Apparently a lot of the stone had been reused to build a nearby manor house in the 1300's.  This may or may not be the source of my branch of the Bertrams, but it is nice to think of having a castle in the family.

Gillian sitting in a window(?) in the wall of "her castle"

The remnants of the keep, now protected by stinging nettles



1 August 2012 - Bridge of Earn

Catchup for a few days.

Sunday the main event was a return to the battlefield of Culloden. Since the last time we were here a modern visitors centre has been added. It contains a great display of the events leading up to the battle, but we felt that it detracted from the atmosphere of the remote moor that we found last time. The memorial cairn and the markers placed in the late 19th century to mark the clans involved still have the most impact – the battle seems to have touched almost every known highland family and you have to wonder why Charlie had the ability to convince the others that he had a chance.

On Monday we called into Scone, the traditional place for crowning the Scottish kings, and spent some time touring the country house (Scone Palace) built by the Murray family. The coronation mound is supposed to have been built up by soil the lords brought on their boots when they came to swear fealty to the current monarch. I have some doubts that the odd 500m3 of the mound actually was just the mud on their boots. The alleged copy of the “Stone of Destiny” certainly doesn't appear much like the stone that was kidnapped from Westminster a while ago, but artistic licence forgiven it is nice to have a point on the ground where you can say “history happened here”.

Gillian with the Stone of Destiny at Scone

The Murray family were given the lands of Scone in 1600, but the current house dates from 1808. The scale of the rooms is huge with a massive state dining room, ante-chambers and galleries. The contents of the house are either priceless collectables or stuff about the family – they assume that someone cares....

The next stop was Arbroath to visit the abbey. Although the building was ruined during the reformation, what remains is impressive. The main historical link here is the Declaration of Arbroath which sought to lift the excommunication of Robert the Bruce and to establish Scotland as an independent nation.

The remains of Abroath Abbey

On the way back to the hotel we called into St Andrews, but decided not to take the time for a round of golf.  However the town was very pleasant with a long main street lined with solid buildings, many of them related to the university.  At the Eastern end the remains of the Cathedral are impressive - this was the main administrative seat for the church in Eastern Scotland.

St Andrews Cathedral

Tuesday we continued the Bruce quest with visits to Dunfermline and Stirling. In the Dunfermline abbey church there is a wealth of historic context. The identified coffin of Robert is re-interred under the pulpit and there are many other Scottish kings (and Robert's wife) that are also in the church, but not identified. Out in the graveyard there is a tree supposedly planted over the grave of the mother of William Wallace (a supposed ancestor of mine). We spent some time debating the merits of various versions of history with a very helpful and enthusiastic guide. The general consensus seems to be whatever story fits your own vision is near enough...

Stirling is the area for the battle of Bannockburn which was Robert's major victory over Edward II. The stories on what happened vary and no-one know exactly where it happened, but the basic facts seem reasonably clear – the event started with a one to one challenge between an English knight and Robert which ended up with Robert's axe buried in the opponents skull, the first day was a minor skirmish which went in favour of Robert and on the second day the Scots had superior tactics and wasted the English. It's ironic that Robert's son ended up marrying Edward's daughter and promoting the cause of the English...
Robert's statue at Bannockburn

We spent quite some time talking to a presenter at the visitor centre.  He had given a demonstration of the armour and weapons that would have been in use and was dressed in full chain mail weighing 5 stone (35kg).  He seemed quite at home swinging broadswords, double handed swords, battle axes and a few other nasties and his descriptions of the effect of the weapons was graphic. 

On Gillian's insistence we then headed to Falkirk where, after a few navigational discussions, we found the Falkirk wheel. This is an amazing bit of show-off engineering designed to reconnect the Union and the Forth & Clyde canals as the connection has been in ruin for the last 50 years. The wheel consists of 2 big tubs, each of which contains 360,000 litres of water with a total weight of 1,000 tonnes. They are connected on opposing sides of an axles so that as the “wheel” turns one sinks as the other rises. As the weight of each is the same it takes little power to carry out the lift. A single half turn lifts boats 75 ft to float down a futuristic aqueduct to the Union canal towards Glasgow. The most impressive achievement to me was the excellent seal that the gates on the tubs which only seemed to lose a litre or 2 on the way round.

The Falkirk Wheel in action.

Monday 30 July 2012


30 July 2012 - Bridge of Earn

G again.

28 July we stayed at Mansfield Castle Hotel. Stephen had booked this before leaving NZ, thinking I would be due a wee bit of luxury after travelling for 3 days over one way roads in the extreme north of Scotland. We found the hotel in Tain without too much difficulty – from the gate way it was imposing with 16th and 17th century architecture.

As we drove up the sweeping drive we encountered the pot holes that are a feature of all Scottish roads, be they lowlands or highlands, main roads or one way roads. We chuckled and came to a halt in a weedy court yard – nothing daunted, we leapt from our car and up the steps to the entry.
I noticed a pot valiantly growing a couple of small polyanthus alongside a sizeable prickle and beside the imposing doorways a tub of healthy grass!

And so began our Fawlty Towers type experience.
This facility has all the elegance of a bygone age with fascinating features to attract guests. However distant glimmers do not always mean you have struck gold. I did something at the end of our stay I have never done before. I asked for a feed back form. The receptionist who was obviously of European origin had no idea what I meant – then began a translation exercise – I finally received 3 blank A4 pages. She must have worked out I had a lot to say!! True.

Below I have edited what I handed in , addressed to the management.

During our stay we noticed
  • Upon entry to our room an over-powering aroma of air freshener. Having located the device we turned it off and the “smell” retreated.
  • Upon needing more fresh air I tried to further open the sash window. I found it was resting upon a teacup. Removing the cup the window dropped onto my arm – bruising resulted. There is no way of properly using this window as it won't stay open with out the tea cup.
  • Bathroom window also has a broken sash cord and couldn't stay open.
  • We slept without ventilation that night.
  • There is no room for a second bedside light.
  • There is no table to use for reading or writing in the room.
  • There was no hot water for shower in the evening or this morning. This despite there being a large bathroom with jacuzzi ( when Stephen tried to use this device despite tepid water the air vent wouldn't open!!! )
  • While he was wrestling with the air vent Stephen saw the underside of soap dish over the bath has a build-up of grime and mould!!!
  • The appearance of hotel over all is of “shabby elegance”. While the staircase is stunning fittings in the public areas and the antique furniture are immaculate the tartan carpet in the dining room is ill fitting around one edge of the dance area.This is a health and safety risk. As is the large split and jagged edge in the wooden seat of the park bench outside the entry.
  • Tiny details these maybe but the following examples indicate a lack of care and attention which in turn reflects on management and staff concern for their guests.
    • on our way to our bedroom we noticed a rent in the lace curtains covering one of the windows in the hall way.
    • The paper on the walls of our bedroom was peeling in places.
    • 2 missing candles from the 6 stem candelabra in the entrance hall
    • When my husband first arrived the receptionist “got lost” taking him to our room
    • Help with our luggage would have been welcome as there is no lift .
    • Towels in the bedroom are well worn and beds covered with air cell blankets – these were a favourite in the 19700s.
Finally the food
  • Dinner was adequate, typical of pub-style fare.
  • A digestive gap between courses would have been welcome.
  • As dining is a la carte advice at the time the menu is offered of availability of dishes is preferable to leaving guests to make their selection then announcing that dishes were finished when orders were being taken.
Breakfast
  • Breakfast was from 7.30 – 9.30 am.We arrived just before 9:00. Finally at 9:15 we were asked if we wanted a hot drink. By that time it was evident that there was only 1 dish of fruit left – prunes. The menu described 4 types of fruit.
  • There were no croissants or rolls evident – both listed on the menu.I was advised they had finished. Would I like toast?When I said I would prefer a roll the waitress went to ask. No I was told. They had been busy and its the end of the week. They had run out.
  • Toast it is. Stephen decided to have a continental style breakfast also. He couldn't face the inevitable “we have run out' We were served 2 pieces of sandwich sliced toast. When I asked it we could have another 2 slices the response was that only the heel of the loaf was available. I declined!
These are a few of the food fusses – I won't go on anymore – picture is pretty clear.
I concluded my rant this : Mansfield Castle and Hotel could offer a unique experience for guests while retaining its cost effective modus vivendi. As it stands currently I cannot recommend friends and acquaintances stay here.

We then travelled on and arrived here in Bridge of Earn on 29th.

It is a hotel in a pub, south of Perth – we selected it as we are mid way between Arbroath Abbey, Dunfermline, Stirling and Scone. This is called The Last Cast and it is delightful fresh, clean, well appointed accommodation. No windows rattle in the wind, attention to detail is delightful – even a port-a-cot folded up in the wardrobe. I write at a table which folds away – no need to use public areas or the bed! Dinner 100 yards away at the local restaurant was delicious and beautifully presented – with a 25% discount on the bill due to staying at Last Cast. The bed, pillows and duvet all in as new condition - fresh, soft and sweet smelling, hot water on tap day and night, freshly cooked breakfast delivered soon after placing our order – sharp contrast with the tired Mansfield castle and for less than half the price.

Today it is back on the path of Robert The Bruce. Scone first where he was crowned by Isabel Mac Duff – who paid sorely for her endeavours, poor lady. Thence to Arbroath where the Declaration of Arbroath was written and sent to the Pope. A powerfully written document, believed to have been written by Bernard of Kilwinning – a protege of Bruce's and a man of acute acumen and political savvy.




Sunday 29 July 2012


28 July 2012 – Tain

The last 2 days have been fascinating as we drove up the North West coast of Scotland from Skye. The landscape to start with was dramatic with glacial scoured valleys and lakes. Gradually the hills reduced in height, the lakes get more numerous and smaller and the landscape is more and more bare rock covered in places with a thin green layer. The hills are hard rock still scraped clean by the ice layer during the ice age and the only sign of life is where moss has accumulated on ledges forming a layer of soil. It is a magnificent and barren landscape and it is amazing that there has been continual human habitation for 4000 years.

 The remains of the Mcleod's castle
 
A view down one of the inlets we passed

The weather hasn't helped with low cloud and occasional rain hiding the higher hills, but even so it is impressive with the hints of hillsides disappearing up into the clouds. Most of the coastline is steep down to the water with occasional shingle beaches, often covered with seaweed. However across the north coast there are some stunning sandy beaches between the cliffs, one of which is apparently used for international surfing contests in winter. Although it is the middle of summer there is no-one on the beaches and most people are wearing coats.

Shingle beach at Ardarnoch

Beach near Durness in the North

We arrived in Tain to find our accommodation tending towards Fawlty Towers. It is a country house that has been converted into a hotel and now epitomises “faded elegance”. From the potholes in the long drive, the wooden outdoor furniture sagging and fragile, the carpet frayed at the edges, the window sash cords broken, the spa bath with the air vent jammed shut, the hot water never getting above lukewarm and the sad choice of fading floral wallpaper. However the scale of the building, the magnificent staircase leading up from the lobby and the labyrinth of passages leading to the rooms lend a grand air.

Mansfield Castle Hotel

To top it off we arrived down for breakfast half an hour before the finish time to be told they were out of rolls, croissants, ham and only toast was available. When the toast arrived it was 2 slices of sandwich bread and apparently was the end of the last loaf. Being Sunday they “couldn't run down to the corner store”. It is such a contrast to the high standards and lavish breakfasts that we have experienced to date throughout the trip.

To be fair the building is imposing with elegantly furnished public rooms and beautiful panelling and a large lawn between the gates and the hotel with a fountain and pond. The rooms are spacious and reasonably well finished, but with a little attention to details and a few fixes the hotel would be superb – it is such a shame to see the property downgraded by such second class management.

Thursday 26 July 2012

26 July 2012 - Isle of Skye

Yesterday was the drive up from the Scottish Borders to Skye - very pleasant and again I was struck with the magnificent crags around Glencoe.  Our accommodation was found easily and proved to be a modern house right at the top of the beach with wading birds just outside the window.

Today we toured the island which has a mixture of dramatic hills, shear sea-cliffs and a scattering of settlements over an area of around 200 square miles.  A lot of the land is low grass with low scrub or tussock, but we did come across some forestry.  Generally the land is rocky with a very small soil covering with a few peat bogs.  The roads have been greatly improved over the last few years and this was definitely needed from the examples of the old roads we saw. 

Tomorrow we head north up the west coast.

Monday 23 July 2012

23 July 2012 - Glenholm


Gillian's Bruce Journey

Today finally arrived – awaited with pleasurable anticipation. We began to explore places where Robert the Bruce aka RB (of the Norman family, de Brus who came to England with William the Conqueror 1066) lived and 'worked'! The day dawned wet, misty but a balmy 16 degrees – great temperature for this time of year we were told but sorry about the rain! We have heard this ' sorry about the weather' several times today from Scots!

Off we went first to Loch Maben castle where Bruce may have been born and certainly where is family had their ancestral home. We found the ruins and plaques which told us that this site was actually built by Edward I in 1300s ( in stone I gather)and then fought over for the next hundred years or so by the English and Scots, each vying to hold this important site. It is a pretty place, on a peninsula that juts out into the lake but... is not the Bruce pile! So we retreated out of the wind and drizzle and mist into the car and drove to the golf course in Lochmaben town where we saw where the Bruces actually had their motte and wooden bailey castle. No sign of any castle now but interesting to see this site. They had come to Lochmaben as, after having been given the Annandale lands and built a castle in Annan by a grateful Willie the Conq - for the support and endeavours of the original de Brus, they were soon flooded and they left to settle in the drier option of Lochmaben. News to me. So once more we left the drizzly site for the dry car and motored down south to Annan. There we went into the museum and found that the castle there had been a motte and bailey affair – of course – and sited by the river. By this time Stephen was becoming immersed in the history and made the connection that from these Bruces probably came the family of his paternal grand mother – Susan Bruce. ( having seen her photo my mother declared she was 'The Beautiful Susan” and decided that Stephen looked just like her!!!) I have been telling him I was sure there was link there ever since I started reading up on RB.... So much tallied in my mind – despite the huge time since 1274 (DOB RB)

Statue of Robert in Lochmaben

OK – from small Annan museum I beat a hasty path to cafe and loo in that order – we had a bite to eat and a coffee. Some amusing anecdotes followed – will only cite the one as to do more could be construed that I am being unkind – which I don't want to be. So – I ordered the soup of the day – was told it was lentil. Good. I like lentil soup. When it arrived I found it to be a yummy, thick soup of potato, carrot, a little cabbage and a few small pieces of ham!!! I am now searching the cottage for a dictionary to check the meaning of lentil before I ask our Scottish hostesses why her delicious lentil soup had no potatoes in it!

Lunch break over we found the car and set off for the Bruce castle site in Annan. Following our instincts we ended up at the docks – in a derelict area surrounded by brick buildings with no roofs – this is not it obviously. Back up then was in order – and soon 2 nice big lads in fluoro coloured vests took my eye. Stephen manfully stopped the vehicle, leapt out and went to ask directions – to save me from the rain he said!!! 

Some time later – after much manly dialogue, while the wind whipped at his trousers and the rain fell, and loud Scottish sounding noises rent the air , Stephen returned smiling smugly and we drove straight to the place. 

Hmmm – a car park and a sports centre occupy the area directly beneath the motte and bailey – pretty impressive height to the area actually. There is a path for people to walk up to where motte and bailey existed – well annotated by a plaque in the car park but it was still dribbling rain and I absconded to the car – requesting Stephen to drive up along beside the path instead. Actually, the whole site is tree clad – which I think is great – so there wouldn't have been much to see. At the far end, where the motte was there is a house – otherwise the site remains as a park.

So where to now? Dumfries! Where our lad stabbed John Comyn and his mate Kilpatrick finished him off – they then took Dumfries castle – by surprise - acting very quickly , and the die was caste for RB. He had no choice – grab the kingship or flee the country.

Further travel on these appallingly surfaced and drained Scottish roads and we were in Dumfries. Following my instinct we found the Greyfriars Kirk that replaced the original abbey. We parked and plodded along the street to the steps of the Kirk – crossed the road and found the plaque on a shop wall that recorded that this was the place RB had stabbed the Red Comyn and that Kilpatrick, had hot footed it saying “I mak siccar' ( I will make sure” ) 

I did know that the abbey and monastery where these events occurred had been removed and a kirk had been built in the area. I also knew that the castle no longer existed. I also knew there was a plaque and where the plaque was situated … However the knowing and the seeing are quite different! 

To read this plaque meant edging in amongst lots of people waiting for their bus and having a good old natter with their friends, a quiet smoke and a not so quiet scream at a stroppy child - as buses and cars went about their usual 21st century business. Not quite the moment in the abbey, looking at the alter where the deed had been committed that I had anticipated. Message being … don't rely too much on the comprehension strategy of visualisation. I shall be sharing this one with my colleagues when I return!

Plaque in Dumfries, behind a bus stop and on the wall of a discount shop

What a day – not quite as I expected but – as always we have seen and learnt so much more than we thought we knew.

I now have a schema for where the events occurred. I also have an image of these very flat, lush borderlands – so close to the sea and obviously so desirable to the English .
This shire of Dumfries is from where our Caldwell family left to go to Northern Ireland when William and Mary of Orange were on the throne. It is good to have seen this land and it is a very good land if somewhat wet!

So – with a knowledge now of where we lived I am ready to move on to the highlands.

Sunday 22 July 2012

15 July 2012 - Prague

I see this has appeared out of sequence - not a big issue.

Today we took a tour of the city starting at Wencelaus Square, though it's hardly a square being a wide boulevard 1km long and it's outside the Old City. The old part of town is divided into 4 regions - Old Town, New Town, Lesser Town and Castle Town, the last 2 on the south side of the river.  Each town had its own square and town hall and there was also a Jewish Town Hall in the Old Town. The tour went through all 4 with a walk through the castle.

In Castle Town all the palaces and houses of the nobility were nationalized in 1918 during the formation of the republic and are still in state ownership being used as government offices.  We detected a degree of resignation in our guides tone when talking about the current administration - e.g. a stadium that has been closed for 10 years for some reason that has never been divulged.  Any mention of communism was bitter.  A statue made up of people reducing in substance to illustrate the effect of communism was pointed out.

A statue on the effects of communism on the population

The castle itself is in great condition, being used as the seat of government, hence there are no interesting old nooks and crannies or ornate rooms full of old stuff.  It feels more like a series of 19th century office blocks with sentries at the gates.  We watched the changing of the guard at one gate - the usual marionette style of movement with goose stepping soldiers.

At least the sentries are allowed sun glasses.

22 July 2012 – Glenholm

I'm writing this looking out the window at a bleak view up the valley with clouds hanging down over the tops of the hills and the wind whipping waves across the rye grass field next to the cottage.

To catch up, the German town of Gorlitz was delightful with 3 squares lined with old buildings and an old tower all in spruce condition. The matching town on the other bank of the river in Poland (they had been the same town before WWII) was dowdy and less well kept.

The main square in Gorlitz

Once we left Gorlitz we headed onto the autobahn for an overnight stay at Fulda (chosen as it was in easy distance of Frankfurt airport). The hotel we had booked there, the Knussknacker, had a theme of toy soldiers – based on the Nutcracker story. There were peanuts in a dish in the bedroom and dishes of nuts with various type of nutcrackers scattered around the bar and lounge, and the public rooms had arrays of the toy soldiers on every available ledge and window sill, almost every one unique in size, expression and/or attachments – carrying bugles, staffs, drums.....

The autobahn is an interesting experience – driving at 150kph in the slow lane while the occasional car zips past at 200+. It is amazing how fast these speedsters appear in the mirror while you are passing a truck.

Anyway we spent the next day returning the car, flying to Edinburgh and driving down to our accommodation at Glenholm. This is a remote valley in Peebleshire which is the ancestral home of my branch of the Bertrams and we had found a cottage to rent for a few days while looking at the family gravestones, etc. We arrived around 7:00 to find the cottage is part of a group of buildings making up the Glenholm Centre, a wildlife project and tearooms based around the old school and right next to the Glenholm graveyard. The centre is on Cardon farm with 1000 acres along both sides of the valley. Deciding to find something to eat we headed to the nearest town to find that the Bistro kitchen had closed for the night. A quick trip across country to the next town at Biggar, via a road that had given G willies on the way down due to the narrowness and deep puddles stretching across the width, found us a good restaurant in one of the pubs. Heading back around 9:30 it was still very light.

The next day was spent looking around the graveyard, driving up to the end of the valley, finding the church at Stobo and identifying the graves of my great-great-great-grandfather, his son and his wife which are directly outside the church door.
The family gravestones at Stobo

The first mentioned ancestor had been the head gamekeeper at the local estate and had the job of supervising the construction of Stobo Castle, an imposing country house, around 1800. We headed up to the castle which has been turned into an exclusive health resort and parked among the Porsches and Jaguars. Rolling up to reception in our tatty travelling clothes we asked if we could have a look around – no problem they said, as long as we didn't take photos inside. The entrance is very imposing with double staircases heading up and down and all beautifully decorated on a grand scale. We wandered down towards the back of the house among swarms of young women wearing uniform fluffy white bathrobes that seemed to migrate en-masse in every direction. The staff were immaculately turned out and the whole atmosphere was quite surreal. It was almost like a gathering of some druidical clan. We quickly retreated outside and took photos of the house and the immaculate grounds. The front lawn even had an H marked in a different coloured grass to mark the helipad.

Stobo Castle

We then spent a day heading west to Renfrewshire to catch up with the Dunlop family traces. A start was made in Neilston to find the first cotton mill built in Scotland by James Dunlop & Sons, but the locals had no idea of the history of the area, though there was a community centre set up by 3 women to bring the community together through information sharing which did have a map of the area. With the information gathered and a few good guesses we found the mill site including the mill pond, but the mill itself seems to be have been demolished and turned into a pleasant housing estate.

We carried on to the town of Dunlop. On the way I saw a castellated tower that I recognised as the Caldwell Tower which had been the subject of an extreme make-over project on TV. As Gillian is a Caldwell we headed over to see if we could get a better view of the tower and immediately came across the Caldwell Golf Club and Caldwell Lodge – a pleasant surprise for G to make an accidental homecoming.

Caldwell Tower

At Dunlop (my mother's maiden name) we spent some time searching for the (possibly) ancestral home of Dunlop House without luck. Stopping at the Dunlop Kirk we wandered around the graveyard and found a few Dunlop graves and also a Caldwell or two.

I then stopped in the middle of a one lane road to ask a passer-by directions to the house which were given rapidly as the traffic was building up in both directions. We still didn't get it right and stopped again to ask a couple who were walking past. They spent some time insisting that as I had Dunlop connections, however tenuous, I had come HOME and were also able to give us more info about the house which has been under renovation for years into exclusive apartments with a hiatus due to the economic conditions. Previously it had been owned by the local council and used as a home for the handicapped. We carried on to find the imposing gates and gatehouse of the estate and carried on up the drive through pleasant countryside for a kilometre and came round a corner to find an amazingly imposing 4 storey mansion standing in apparent isolation. There are construction barriers around the house and the windows are boarded up with plywood, but the exterior is in fine condition and made Gillian exclaim “I want to own this!”. We walked around the outside and peered into one room. The interior has been gutted, but there is still the remains of a fine fireplace.

Dunlop House

We also had been told of a local farm that produces cheese under the Dunlop brand. We found the farm a few miles down the raod and sampled the cheeses – all delicious. We ended up buying a “nearly mature” cheddar (traditional Ayrshire Dunlop), a “Crowdie” (a slighty crumbly cream cheese with a pleasant flavour and a round of “Aiket”, similar to camembert. A good amount of cheese for only £7 (=$NZ14) which I regarded as an exceptionally cheap price.

Today we attended church at the Stobo Kirk and then had lunch with the minister and his wife. He had a history of the parish and I was able to find a couple of references to the Bertram family, the first being in relation to a change of land ownership in 1541 in Rachan, just down the road.

Before church I walked up the road from the cottage to have a close look at the local golf course named Pitch and Putt. This is a project of the farm owner who personally mows the greens and occasionally the fairways which are hewn out of the long grass that covers the valley floor. The main limitation seems to be the lack of parking as the road is a single lane and there is only off-road space for 3 cars at the links. The hazards are challenging – a wide stream, several deep ditches, areas of rough that would hide a ball for eternity and greens that are minute and irregular in slope. Great fun.

Gillian found a gravestone in the graveyard beside the cottage which refers to 4 people, 3 of them Bertrams, that we have no records for. They died between 1858-1913 and don't fit the dates or history we know about, but I suspect that there were several branches of the family in the area so it is not surprising.

The weather apparently had been very wet prior to our arrival in Scotland with flooded pasture and a lot of water on the roads, but the last few days has generally been dry and mild (“Brass monkey weather” says G from under a heavy long coat and thermal underwear).

Saturday 21 July 2012


21 July 2012 - Glenholm

GillieB here

We left Prague and the Hotel Rott reluctantly. I highly recommend this very well appointed and reasonably priced hotel. It is perfectly situated for the old town and very quiet and extremely comfortable. Staff are very pleasant and helpful and speak English fluently – causing me to feel very humble.

We were chauffeur driven to the Hilton hotel underground car park, collected car and drove up into posh hotel car park. Typed in Gorlitz in Germany into GPS – no luck! So we headed into hotel reception where a young woman said it was actually in Poland ( we knew the town was divided in two by river Neisse ) and gave us spelling for the city in Polish – still no luck when we entered it into GPS. OK – what now? We didn't have a map of Germany!!! Back to see the hotel concierge this time – lovely young Polish man who knew the town and he gave us a small map of Ceska and located Zittau on it – which is near the Polish border an in the area near where we knew Gorlitz to be. He knew the town as Gorlitz and gave us advice re route to take. We entered Zittau in to GPS along with some stern words to the stupid woman who lives inside the device and why doesn't she keep up with border changes etc...and off we finally went.

Most of the way we were on the European Route and it was a lovely drive through countryside that went from rolling terrain with stands of trees to more hills and valleys and woods became denser. We went off at one point to have a drive through some villages. Taking the Hanichem off ramp we headed for Rossau – a charming village and carried on down into a valley toward the settlement of Kriebethal. As we made our ascent up a steep hill, which was clad in dense picturesque foliage and slender trunked trees ,and rounded a bend there was a beautiful castle nestled on the side of the hill! It is called the Krebstein Castle and is obviously a well known, well visited tourist site. Parties of school children were being taken through the site as well as a lot of other people wandering through and around.We popped into a charming cafĂ© for a coffee in the village on the top of the hill.

After that it was back to the autobahn. Once we arrived at Zittau the signs to Gorlitz were easily followed and we found our accommodation easily using a goggle map Stephen had printed off. Piccobella Pension! We had a large room on ground levels so took the opportunity later in the day to pull out and repack to avoid excess baggage cost from Frankfurt!

Before the battle of the baggage though we walked up into the town of Gorlitz to an information centre. Our quest was to get directions to Stalag VII A. A prisoner of war camp where my father was interred from 1944 – 45, having been transferred from Italian POW camp when Italy 'changed sides”. The woman we spoke to and her colleague knew of the site and we bought a map of German and Polish Gorltiz. They identified the site – known mostly because of the Olivier Messian music centre.

Off we went in our Peugot . The area they had identified was clearly not correct – being a suburb of housing and some recreational areas. It is at this point I would like to thank Terry Crandle and his partner Karen for the advice and information they gave us before we left NZ. Terry's dad , John and others, were instrumental in gathering photos, materials , poetry and accounts of life in the Stalag VIII A camp written by internees. This involved carrying these documents on the forced march in 1945. This was a gruelling and inhumane imperative by the Third Reich.

There are accounts of conditions and what the men endured – the recounting and reading of these accounts is always edited by the author for the sake of their audience – the reality is always much harsher. Once in London John Crandle and other ex prisoners compiled and organised the publishing of a book called 'Interlude'. Men had previously signed up for and bought copies while in the Stalag – lists were compiled and in due course copies were sent out to these men. One of these men was my father – Joseph Ernst Caldwell – known in the army as 'Snow'. He was extremely fair headed. Fair minded too apparently as he was the quarter master for his barrack . I say apparently as he died when I was 2 years of age. My mother took good care of this document and now it is mine.

So – armed with my precious copy of Interlude and the information from Terry and Karen I was sure we needed to head out into the country side. This we did. This first road we took was obviously not the right one though we did find the German equivalent of 'allotments' ! OK – back to the round about and take the main road – bingo! In short order we found the site. 

Sign at the entrance to the Stalag VIIIA site.
Memorial at the camp

The site was laid out as Terry had described –a central track with side tracks leading off it. The track / road is covered with some gravel but big stones protrude regularly and there had been some rain so there were many large puddles across the surface of the road. This is not a well drained site – more about that later.

At the entrance to the camp there is a large memorial. There is also a plaque where there is a plan of the site – annotated to show where kitchens, latrines, barracks, chapel, library etc were situated. As we walked the road there were plaques that further described each site in a variety of languages. Today trees have made the left hand side of the road their home – they are slender, tall trees and winds whisper or whip ( according to the weather) through their branches. The ground, uneven because of remnants of drains and barracks / building foundations, is covered with grass – some ferns grow here and there. On the right ,as we walked through the camp, the ground is covered by lower growing scrub and wild flowers abound. This is more uneven ground. The buildings have been demolished – within the last 20 years – but it is possible still to find the foundations should you brave the prickly and non prickly under growth.

Around the middle of the camp we reached the plaque that commentated the centre where Olivier Messian completed and performed for the first time his “ Ode to the end of time”. Turning 180 degrees and looking out over the scrub I knew I had found the site of my father's barrack. Grateful thanks to Terry again.
This was a moment in time for me.

I saw pieces of red brick – sun dried brick – that I knew had been used to build the barracks. No full bricks from my father's barrack are left so – knowing this was where his barrack had been I popped the fragment into my pocket. ( now well scrubbed and in my luggage – hopefully to come home with us)

I knew my father loved violets. He often gave bunches of them to my mother. While we were in the town of Gorlitz I bought an African violet plant ( no violets available and they wouldn't survive) and carried it to Stalag VIII A . The area where my father's barracks had been was now scrub land so I decided to plant the violets opposite the site, beside the rusty memorial to Olivier Messian amongst the trees. Having clearing a small area of the grass that grew there I had nothing with which to dig a hole so – taking a long stick that was lying on the ground – I began to break the surface of the earth. That took a little effort but then, to my surprise, soon my stick sank easily down into the earth. OK – the reason for all the ditches between the barracks became immediately clear. The camp site is/was a bog!!

Violets planted by Gillian

Once I had I planted the violet I sought pieces of bricks from the barracks that were around to surround it. I then sunk the digging stick I had used beside the violets. I hope the violet plant survives – I guess the chances of that in the soggy soil are limited – and I will never know. However I am grateful that my father did survive this Stalag ( so is Stephen apparently!!) and also the previous PoW camps where he had been held captive in Italy. He he did not describe these camps much to my mother and there is only one reference to them in one of his letters that I have. I do know though from my reading that Italian camps were horrific – second only to the Japanese.In the inscription at the front of Interlude he described Stalag VIII A as his best time in captivity. Having read the book and the accounts of the camp I shudder!

As we went we were reading plaques. When the road made a division to the south I told Stephen I would like to go down it to the Russian prisoners grave yard. A wee discussion ensued about the location of this site.

Finally I persuaded him and we tramped on and soon found the cemetery. The Russians were imprisoned away from the other prisoners, little food provided and the ground around their 'shelters' was bare earth as they had eaten all the grass. 16,000 men are buried in this cemetery!!! Interlude recounts endeavours by the NZers, Australians and Brits to send contents of their Red Cross food parcels through to them – mostly thwarted by the guards .

As I walked into the cemetery a prickle of goose bumps ran up my spine and a shudder – Stephen had no such sensation. It is a beautiful place but not a happy place and I was glad to leave it.

The memorial in the Russian cemetary

Back to the main track again, with much to think about – we walked to the outskirts of the camp. As we had been walking we were already aware that there were still fence posts evident beyond the scrub. Now - arriving at the edge of the camp we gasped. There, standing sombrely as sentinels of the past, remain the posts that held the wires that interred my father along with thousands of other young men in the prime of their life. Young men caged as wild animals – that is probably how their potential was seen.

Remains of the camp fence

We walked on – we saw more of the first and second line defences. The fence posts are evocative and affected us both.
As Stephen explored these and worked out camp perimeters I went into a small crumbling building that was obviously related to administration – no roof but walls with some tiling remained. Tiles!! In a POW camp!?

We walked back through the camp – wondering how 10,000 plus men could have been confined never mind live for so long in such a small area.

I have no idea how to end this account - All I can say is at a personal level to my father is ' thank you for all you endured and for managing to survive and return home intact – in all senses of the word'.












Sunday 15 July 2012

14 July 2012 - Prague

Today we spent mooching around the Old Town.  Prague has been a real surprise to me - English spoken everywhere, real character in the buildings, interesting little alleyways everywhere and a real sense of life.  Crowds of tourists flow through the area over cobbled streets, shops selling crystal glassware alongside tatty fridge magnets, street markets with fresh fruit beside pashminas.  Crowds gather every hour in front of the Astrological Clock in the Town Square to watch as a skeleton (Death) rings his bell as the twelve apostles appear in windows above the clock and a trumpeter sounds a fanfare before the clock sounds the hour.  Many of the buildings in the area have elaborate plasterwork or murals in a distinctive monochrome style.

I went to get some cash in the local currency - the ATM gave me the cash in 2 notes, a 2000k and a 1000k.  It looks ridiculous to hand over a note with 3 zeroes on it to buy an icecream!  (1000k is around $NZD60)

We started across the Old Town Square past stalls selling pancakes straight off the griddle, ham sliced of legs rotating over charcoal braziers and all sorts of sausages.  There was stall grilling bread wrapped around wooden forms over a bed of charcoal, then dipped in sugar and cinnamon.

 Stall grilling bread rolls

We headed for the church with spires overlooking the square which appeared to be in the next street behind a row of houses.  We walked down a likely road only to arrive at the back of the church - the west and north faces have houses butting up to the church walls and even the entrance to the church is through a passage under houses into a very small square in front of the main door.

The Church of Our Lady Before Tyn from the Town Square

The "Before Tyn" part of the church name refers to the yard the church was built on - it replaced a church which was "After Tyn".

Then we tried to find the Jewish quarter which turns out to have largely been rebuilt 1890-1913, but there are still 6 synagogues, of which we found 4 and the old cemetery.  Many of the buildings in this area are modelled on Paris and there is even a small version of the Eiffel Tower (the Petrin Observation Tower - 60m) in parkland on the other side of the river.

 Synagogue at the Jewish cemetery

The Vltava River is slow, quite brown and crowded with boats, large and small, jockeying to get into the right position to view the Charles Bridge.  The bridge itself appears unexceptional except for the statues of saints lining both sides and the historical links - the bridge was the only dry crossing of the river for a long time and gave Prague economic importance and a pitched battle was fought on the bridge to protect the city from the invading Swedes in 1648.

Gate house for the Charles Bridge - the statue on the right is of Charles IV

There's a curious myth about the bridge - a statue of St John of Nepomuk who was martyred by being thrown off the bridge at the behest of King Wencelaus.  He is always shown as having 5 stars around his head as apparently these appeared when he was martyred.  Anyway there is a tradition that if you touch the five stars inset into the bridge close to the statue with five fingers of one hand then you will return to Prague.  However tourists seem to think that this involved touching the brass relief under the statue and this has a well polished area from the constant touching.  The other polished brass in town is the penis of a statue of a boy in the castle which shines out in relation to the rest of the statue which is almost black - the tourist come into the courtyard, smirk, then have their photos taken caressing that part of the statue.  In fact the statue was erected to epitomise the innocence of youth!







Saturday 14 July 2012


13 July - Prague

Our day began, Friday the 13th, travelling from Vienna to Prague. We were sent down what our GPS calls the optimised route – over half of the journey being on what is called the 'European' Road. This meant we were able to see and enjoy the landscape as it changed. Travelling north easterly direction the hillside went from gently undulating to more hilly and the stands of trees increased as cropping disappeared. Then it was time to cross the border into Ceska – no one around who was interested in our entry so we motored on. No sooner were we in Ceska than we passed a large outlet selling huge and small animals -tigers / lions/ camels, gorillas etc ( inanimate of course) and before we could blink another shop with row upon row of garden animals, gnomes etc! Across the road were casinos ( plural) and lots of gaudily posted signage for things we couldn't read. Some time later we left the route and did another of our ' let's take this road and see what we can find” routines. We drove through a village, road becoming narrower and bumpier and through leafy tunnels until we came out into another even smaller village where there was the mill pond. We had noticed that the settlements we had been passing for a while now had these mill pond arrangements – no sign of a mill or mill remnants though. We took photos of this site – quite different architecture and surrounding gardens than in Austria and leapt back into car as it was quite cold – around 12 degrees.

Czech farming village

What we did notice as we moved from Austria to Ceska is the way the farming changed – cropping still very strongly in evidence but fields are considerably larger in Ceska and stands of crops cover
more land e.g. the strips of different crops are much wider than in Austria. Also cattle and sheep graze outside more often than in Austria, although not in the numbers we have in NZ.

OK – soon came the end of sedate driving for now. We were on a motor way – 3 lanes each way and as usual all over Europe large trucks thunder on regardless of who might be in their way – indicating a shift into the second lane as they start to move into said lane with no concerns about who might already be in that place at that time.I am not yet used to these trucks or for travelling in a small seed pod of a vehicle at 130 kms and being passed by cars going more than that. Needless to say we arrived quickly in Prague once we were on that motorway aka 'time machine”. A fascinating drive into this very prosperous city. Our GPS took us to our hotel – what a hotel! We were driven to underground parking for our car ( and back) and liveried door man took our luggage up. All very svelte and extreme attention to detail.  [Stephen - Through some good luck the hotel turned out to be located in the heart of the old city - absolutely amazing atmosphere.]

Square outside the hotel in Prague

Yesterday's blog came to an abrupt end as Stephen came in from his cash searching expedition to whisk me outside into the squares and streets around the hotel. I will leave Stephen to recount the buildings near us and our walks around the old city – just to say that we were excited by all we saw – shops selling gorgeous goods. We found ourselves looking lustfully at crystal – lust increased when we translated the krona into NZ$s! The food stalls had us salivating at 5pm – dinner this night at hotel restaurant we had decided – the buildings so beautiful, so diverse and so surprising with little ally ways leading to such unexpected sites and shops. I am sure , if you have visited Prague, you will know exactly what I mean. Back to dinner at the hotel – very posh. I changed out of my travel creased skirts and top – feeling a bit of a scruff. My soup was amazing, potato and truffle mmmmmmm – I will have to buy a recipe book. I have decided this trip will live in our memories for lots of reasons – by no means least for the wonderful food we have eaten everywhere. Waistline increases but I actually don't care at the moment - time to meat sensibly in NZ
The prices are reasonable in Prague – we had heard this was an expensive city but it seems quite reasonable.

That was all we could manage for the day so it was fall asleep time in this comfy bed!