Journey to the Land of Flying Barges

[Skyring]

Old City
Once out of Edinburgh Airport, my troubles melted away. There is a tram direct to the city centre and beyond - it’s like having a tram that goes from Sydney Airport to the city along Pitt Street - connecting with various railway lines along the way for £7.50 single, £9.50 open return.

I wasn’t sure about my return plans from Falkirk but a couple of quid to keep that option open was pretty much a no-brainer so I chose the return. A couple of ticket machines on the platform accepting credit cards. Must say that it’s a lot easier to use these things nowadays when I don’t have to hunt down a source of local currency to feed into the slot.

Trams every few minutes and big enough to swallow a planeload plus baggage on racks.

There are also airport buses. And taxis for those with money to spare.

I settled my big yellow bag on a luggage rack and retreated to a nearby seat with my backpack and pouch. I have my passport and travel documents in the pouch and several thousand dollars of cameras in the pack. I’m reluctant to let those out of my grasp.

By this time it was evening but at this latitude and time of year, still daylight. Enough to enjoy the sight of semi-rural Scotland passing by. Fields, villages, increasing warehouses, train workshops, stadiums, shopping centres, before we were amongst suburbia.

I noted a few stations where connections were possible. Edinburgh Park was of special interest because I could change to and from the line(s) to Glasgow passing through Falkirk.

Haymarket, offering more choices. Princes Street and St Andrews Square for a short walk to Waverley Station near where my hotel was located. I alighted at Princes Street though when I checked the map St Andrews Square was actually closer.



Not to worry. Even dragging along a big yellow duffle, an evening walk along Princes Street on the New Town side of Edinburgh is a pleasure. The Princes Street Gardens on one side, the Castle rising beyond, and the retail heart of the city on the other side. I was saddened to see that Jenners, the iconic Edinburgh department store, had apparently ceased trading.



I passed the Scott Monument - an elaborate gothic confection not quite as awful as the Albert Memorial in London - where I had once damaged my knee through navigating the tight spirals leading to the top. A great view, but I couldn’t walk straight for weeks after.



I passed the entrance to Waverley Station where some sort of Edinburgh Pride event was in full rollicking swing, and turned up a lane to my hotel, the misleadingly named Motel One.



“Motel” implies cars and I doubt that there was any free parking for guests in the middle of Edinburgh.

I was expecting something reasonably good for the price. Granted the location was excellent and I’d selected it with the idea that I’d be weary after travel and not keen to travel much further or dick around with local buses and taxis. Also the thought that I might get up early to look around with a camera. And maybe explore some of the local bookshops.

Anything else reasonably convenient either cost a million bucks or was a hostel bunk bed or capsule hotel. I (so I am told) snore too loudly to be welcome in a dormitory situation and worse, another sleeper might be an actual snorer and keep me awake.



Motel One is a German chain bent on conquering the world. They have strong environmental credentials. No single-use plastics, disposable coffee cups in the rooms, lo-flo aircons, lights turn off when you take your key out of the socket. That sort of irritating nonsense.

Frankly, for the price I wanted something a little more luxurious, but here I was and I wanted sleep. And a coffee in the morning or in the middle of the night.

I went out and hit up Marks and Spencers Simply Food at the nearby station for some milk and ground coffee. I have my Delter plastic coffeemaker with me and so long as they have a way to boil water, I’m set.



I found a handy card to stick in the socket so my devices could continue to charge up while I was gone.

When I returned I discovered that there was no fridge in the room and a reason the previous occupant had set the aircon at zero.

Oh well, I needed sleep. My batteries had run out.

 

[Skyring]

Dawn came at 0330
So far north and only a few days from the solstice, I was unprepared for sunrise. I wanted sleep damit.

I rolled over and put my head down for a bit more. Today was a rest day, more or less. I had three nails to hang my day on:
1. Checkout at noon.
2. Check in to my AirBnB in the afternoon
3. Earlybirds dinner at 1900 in Falkirk.

I had the keycode to my AirBnB, so I didn’t have to arrange a meeting time with the owner or agent. If the cleaner was still working I planned to leave my heavy bags somewhere out of the way and bum about town for a while.

I also had to arrange for transport, but given that I was right next to the main Edinburgh station and Falkirk had three stations on two different lines, I didn’t see that as being a huge problem. Falkirk Grahamstown was within walking distance and the other two - Falkirk High and Camelon - I’d need a cab or an Uber.

An optional activity was to look around the bookshops in Edinburgh in the morning. Not that I needed more books but I had a couple of specialist Sherlock Holmes books I was looking for and I don’t mind hanging around bookshops thank you.

Another Australian BookCrosser, Bronwyn, was in town on her way to Falkirk, and we had pencilled in maybe meeting up on a photo walk and/or sharing transport. Her idea of a dawn photoshoot was to climb Calton Hill and while I am sure it would have been photogenic, I had brought two pairs of shoes with me and neither was really up to climbing hills.

A stroll down Princes Street, maybe across to the Castle if I was feeling energetic. That would give me plenty to shoot.

When I woke again at a more reasonable hour, I boiled the jug, looked for a spoon to fill the chamber in my Delter with coffee, found nothing but a bamboo stirrer and had to guesstimate the correct amount, and consumed the resulting brew from a cardboard cup with now warmish milk.

Not entirely satisfactory but at least a good jolt of caffeine. I stowed the milk back against the window glass, the coolest spot in the room.

Outside it was a little chilly - that was okay, I had my light jacket on, and god knows it was a lot warmer than Canberra - and the streets were all but deserted. The tourists were still asleep or maybe tucking into their traditional Scottish breakfast of baked beans, black pudding, and haggis.

The Castle was looking good in the low sunlight, the Princes Street Gardens could likely be relied upon for a flower display, and who knows, I might find some random Scottish sights along the way.







There were flowers aplenty and I won't bore you with shot after shot of rose after rose. After a while I found my second favourite Starbucks in the world and went inside for a super-ginormous family-size flat white, admiring the view of the castle as I caught up on social media.

Starbucks view - with passing tram.​

View without the window frame​

And then I walked back to the motel and wrote up a bit more adventure.

[Later: I've just realised that every one of my images here includes Edinburgh Castle in some way. I did point my camera in other directions, honest! Proof below.]

 

[Flyfrequently]

View attachment 334838

Dawn came at 0330
So far north and only a few days from the solstice, I was unprepared for sunrise. I wanted sleep damit.

I rolled over and put my head down for a bit more. Today was a rest day, more or less. I had three nails to hang my day on:
1. Checkout at noon.
2. Check in to my AirBnB in the afternoon
3. Earlybirds dinner at 1900 in Falkirk.

I had the keycode to my AirBnB, so I didn’t have to arrange a meeting time with the owner or agent. If the cleaner was still working I planned to leave my heavy bags somewhere out of the way and bum about town for a while.

I also had to arrange for transport, but given that I was right next to the main Edinburgh station and Falkirk had three stations on two different lines, I didn’t see that as being a huge problem. Falkirk Grahamstown was within walking distance and the other two - Falkirk High and Camelon - I’d need a cab or an Uber.

An optional activity was to look around the bookshops in Edinburgh in the morning. Not that I needed more books but I had a couple of specialist Sherlock Holmes books I was looking for and I don’t mind hanging around bookshops thank you.

Another Australian BookCrosser, Bronwyn, was in town on her way to Falkirk, and we had pencilled in maybe meeting up on a photo walk and/or sharing transport. Her idea of a dawn photoshoot was to climb Calton Hill and while I am sure it would have been photogenic, I had brought two pairs of shoes with me and neither was really up to climbing hills.

A stroll down Princes Street, maybe across to the Castle if I was feeling energetic. That would give me plenty to shoot.

When I woke again at a more reasonable hour, I boiled the jug, looked for a spoon to fill the chamber in my Delter with coffee, found nothing but a bamboo stirrer and had to guesstimate the correct amount, and consumed the resulting brew from a cardboard cup with now warmish milk.

Not entirely satisfactory but at least a good jolt of caffeine. I stowed the milk back against the window glass, the coolest spot in the room.

Outside it was a little chilly - that was okay, I had my light jacket on, and god knows it was a lot warmer than Canberra - and the streets were all but deserted. The tourists were still asleep or maybe tucking into their traditional Scottish breakfast of baked beans, black pudding, and haggis.

The Castle was looking good in the low sunlight, the Princes Street Gardens could likely be relied upon for a flower display, and who knows, I might find some random Scottish sights along the way.

View attachment 334839

View attachment 334840

View attachment 334841

There were flowers aplenty and I won't bore you with shot after shot of rose after rose. After a while I found my second favourite Starbucks in the world and went inside for a super-ginormous family-size flat white, admiring the view of the castle as I caught up on social media.

View attachment 334842

Starbucks view - with passing tram.​

View attachment 334844

View without the window frame​

And then I walked back to the motel and wrote up a bit more adventure.

Beautiful flowers @Skyring and like your key card hack!

 

[Skyring]

Falkirk, here I am!
My mate Bronwyn was staying in some sort of capsule hotel in the Old Town near St Giles Cathedral, I packed up all my stuff ready for departure and went off to see if we could hook up. Coffee, she suggested by text, and nominated a place but in the end, after climbing up and down Fleshmarket Close a couple of times, I met her in her digs and we decided to have a coffee at Waverley, where I’d be within easy reach of my bags and we could take the next Glasgow train after that, which would be sure to stop at one of the three Falkirk stations.

The Old Town, for anybody who has not been to Edinburgh, is a ridiculously scenic affair of old stone buildings built on the shells of even older stone buildings. A lot of it is underground and tourist operators earn a fortune showing people selected parts of the old closes.

The Royal Mile, between Holyrood Palace at one end and the Castle at the other, is awash with tourists in summer.

With good reason. It’s full of history and stuff. Photo opportunities abound. Some of the narrow streets are straight out of the Middle Ages. Definitely worth a spot on anyone’s bucket list.

Eventually, after me gallantly rolling Bron’s duffle across to the New Town - not that the New Town is what you might call modern; 1800s rather than 1700s, I guess - and halfway back again and then collecting my own gear in a hurried checkout, we sat in a cafe made even more crowded by our big bags full of books and had a quiet latte together.

There’s an app for Scottish trains but I couldn’t get mine to work so I just bought a ticket from a machine and we filled up a luggage rack together and enjoyed the ride to Falkirk, halfway between Edinburgh and Glasgow.

As luck would have it, we arrived at Falkirk High, the most inconvenient of the three. I gallantly hefted most of our luggage over a steep pedestrian bridge to the station yard where we threw everything into a waiting cab and let the chatty driver drive a couple of weary Aussies to their separate accommodations.

There was something nagging at me. I'd left something behind somewhere. This could be bad.

Eventually it came to me.

The milk in the hotel room, sitting behind the curtain out of sight, pressed up against the glass of the window that had been cool at night but probably not so much right now on this lovely summer day.

Oh well.

I’d originally planned to be travelling with my wife, so my AirBnB was really more than I needed - and although close to the centre of town, a ten minute hike from the convention venue across the road from which Bronwyn was staying - but I’d been too lazy to ditch the relative luxury of a flat all to myself. Besides, for the five nights I was staying, a hotel room would have worked out to be much the same price. I could use a bit of walking every day.

I won’t go into the details of the place - it’s here - or the convention itself, though I will provide some details of a tour we took around the region.

Falkirk as a town isn’t much. Pretty in parts, a fair bit of history, the centre of town has two struggling shopping malls and a heck of a lot of op-shops.

I inspected the first of these - for books, of course - and asked the shopkeeper if there were any more in town.

“Oh, aye, up and down the High Street.”

“Great! How do I get to the High Street?”

“You’re on it.”

 

[Pushka]

Falkirk, here I am!
My mate Bronwyn was staying in some sort of capsule hotel in the Old Town near St Giles Cathedral, I packed up all my stuff ready for departure and went off to see if we could hook up. Coffee, she suggested by text, and nominated a place but in the end, after climbing up and down Fleshmarket Close a couple of times, I met her in her digs and we decided to have a coffee at Waverley, where I’d be within easy reach of my bags and we could take the next Glasgow train after that, which would be sure to stop at one of the three Falkirk stations.

The Old Town, for anybody who has not been to Edinburgh, is a ridiculously scenic affair of old stone buildings built on the shells of even older stone buildings. A lot of it is underground and tourist operators earn a fortune showing people selected parts of the old closes.

The Royal Mile, between Holyrood Palace at one end and the Castle at the other, is awash with tourists in summer.

With good reason. It’s full of history and stuff. Photo opportunities abound. Some of the narrow streets are straight out of the Middle Ages. Definitely worth a spot on anyone’s bucket list.

Eventually, after me gallantly rolling Bron’s duffle across to the New Town - not that the New Town is what you might call modern; 1800s rather than 1700s, I guess - and halfway back again and then collectimg my own gear in a hurried checkout, we sat in a cafe made even more crowded by our big bags full of books and had a quiet latte together.

There’s an app for Scottish trains but I couldn’t get mine to work so I just bought a ticket from a machine and we filled up a luggage rack together and enjoyed the ride to Falkirk, halfway between Edinburgh and Glasgow.

As luck would have it, we arrived at Falkirk High, the most inconvenient of the three. I gallantly hefted most of our luggage over a steep pedestrian bridge to the station yard where we threw everything into a waiting cab and let the chatty driver drive a couple of weary Aussies to their separate accommodations.

There was something nagging at me. I'd left something behind somewhere. Eventually it came to me.

The milk in the hotel room, sitting behind the curtain out of sight, pressed up against the glass of the window that had been cool at night but probably not so much right now on this lovely summer day.

Oh well.

I’d originally planned to be staying with my wife, so my AirBnB was really more than I needed - and although close to the centre of town, a ten minute hike from the convention venue across the road from which Bronwyn was staying - but I’d been too lazy to ditch the relative luxury of a flat all to myself. Besides, for the five nights I was staying, a hotel room would have worked out to be much the same price. I could use a bit of walking every day.

I won’t go into the details of the place - it’s here - or the convention itself, though I will provide some details of a tour we took around the region.

Falkirk as a town isn’t much. Pretty in parts, a fair bit of history, the centre of town has two struggling shopping malls and a heck of a lot of op-shops.

I inspected the first of these - for books, of course - and asked the shopkeeper if there were any more in town.

“Oh, aye, up and down the High Street.”

“Great! How do I get to the High Street?”

“You’re on it.”

And now the Airbnb place in Falkirk is wondering why the increased number of clicks is happening.

 

[love_the_life]

And now the Airbnb place in Falkirk is wondering why the increased number of clicks is happening.

And probably getting excited

 

[Skyring]

And probably getting excited

I hope so. A lovely little flat, neat, tidy, clean, well-equipped. A very thoughtful host.

 

[Skyring]

The Grand Tour
I looked around the Thai restaurant in Falkirk where a couple of dozen BookCrossers from around the world were gathered, trying to remember what they had ordered three months ago, greeting people they hadn’t seen for four years, swapping smiles and books.

“I’m probably the only one here who was actually in Thailand yesterday,” I said as if that gave me something of a leg up on the staff who could speak two languages that were beyond my ken: Thai and Scottish.

These conventions are basically just a succession of meals and social gatherings. Sure and we have the odd author talk, and there are tables full of books, but basically it’s the largely female membership enjoying each other’s company. Sometimes, along with swapping yarns, there will be yarnbombing. And geocaching, PostCrossing, and anything a little quirky. These are extraordinary folk, fun-loving, well read (of course), generous, enterprising, and well-travelled. I love them all.

Enough said. It’s the reason I’m here in this Lowlands town for a weekend, but this narrative is about the travel.

Karen in Germany​

There’s always a bus trip around the local area. In Mainz we did a Rhine cruise with wine tasting at Rudesheim. In Bordeaux we had a wine tasting in Saint-Emillion, in Toronto we tried ice wine, in Oxford we downed cider at Bourton-on-the-Water, in Christchurch we pretended we enjoyed Sauvignon Blanc.


Megan in St Emilion

I imagined that we might drop in on the Rosebank distillery, not a hundred metres away, but sadly it was not yet reopened after a long shuttering.

I can confirm that regional ciders were consumed, however.


Ciders being consumed. Photo by Kerstin, who may well feature in the Adventure of the Spotted Dick later on in this narrative. The young lady with me is Esther, another German, who is probably the sanest person I have ever met in my life. We will be seeing more of Esther who was on the same bus trip as I. Vielen Dank, Kerstin, du bist eine Fotografin par excellence, für alles Liebe!

We had three locations to visit on this tour, none of them terribly far away.

* The Kelpies: massive symbolic horses heads at a canal junction,
* The Falkirk Wheel: an iconic rotating boat lift that bypasses eleven locks, swinging barges through the air
* Callendar House: a grand mansion, a filming location for the Outlander TV series.

I'll deal with each of them separately; many photographs were taken.

 

[Flyfrequently]

There was something nagging at me. I'd left something behind somewhere. This could be bad.

Eventually it came to me.

The milk in the hotel room, sitting behind the curtain out of sight, pressed up against the glass of the window that had been cool at night but probably not so much right now on this lovely summer day.

Oh well

You seem to have a thing with milk @Skyring !!

 

[Skyring]

You seem to have a thing with milk @Skyring !!

I should rename this narrative The Travelling Milk Disaster!

 

[Flyfrequently]

I should rename this narrative The Travelling Milk Disaster!

Keep us happy with another milk episode please - The Travelling Milk Trilogy perhaps @Skyring ?

 

[jrfsp]

Great trip report, as others have said really enjoying the writing style.

 

[Semioticghosts]

You seem to have a thing with milk @Skyring !!

I want to know more about your thing with milk!

 

[Semioticghosts]

You seem to have a thing with milk @Skyring !!

We want to know more about the thing with milk!

 

[Skyring]

You seem to have a thing with milk @Skyring !!

Might as well just call this report

We want to know more about the thing with milk!

Ah, there's more here - right at the end: Journey to the Land of Flying Barges

And some in the post immediately above. I'm pretty sure there's no more to come and that I poured out the milk in my AirBnB, though I did leave a full bottle of the too-sweet local cider. On the way home I was careful about anything to do with milk because my clothing change options were minimal.

I can see where you are coming from with this. The upset over milk was a Freudian slip of some kind. Huh. Nothing like that. It was just one dam' thing after amother.

 

[Skyring]

Steeling Horses

Mighty twins of Carnera unbridled in this kingdom
between canal and forth surface to take the strain
Clydesdales of the Carron rare wild maned kelpies
come to harness the river carry each weary traveller

Celebrate their strength
Never forget a debt owed
Echo the great beasts
that work among us

Bow down your strong heads to taste the water
Stretch up your long necks to face the sun. --Jim Carruth

They don’t call this bit of Scotland the Lowlands because they speak Dutch here - they don’t; the local dialect is doubly difficult - but they do have the odd canal.

The Forth and Clyde Canal links the North Sea with the Irish Sea via the firths of Forth and Clyde. Originally built to allow small seagoing vessels to cross the breadth of the country between Edinburgh and Glasgow, it ran into the sea on the eastern end via the River Carron and Grangemouth north of Falkirk.

The Union Canal was constructed between the Forth and Clyde and Edinburgh itself, rising up through an epic flight of locks, tunnelling under some low hills and proceeding east. I spent a week in Edinburgh some years ago, walking along the city stretch of the canal several times, dodging hurtling bike riders on the towpath and cranky swans nesting on the canal bank.

I like British canals. Not quite a river, not quite a superhighway, they nowadays accommodate pleasure craft and small passenger vessels.

In the old days before the devil invented combustion engines, the barges - or “narrowboats”, rather - were drawn by horses repurposed from pulling ploughs, plodding sturdily and steadily along towpaths by the side of the waterways, hauling the boats through the water by a towrope and navigating oncoming traffic, bridges and locks without blinking.

If you take the M9 west out of Edinburgh, perhaps heading for Stirling and its spectacular Castle, you’ll bypass Falkirk, passing over the River Carron at the point where the Forth and Clyde Canal breaks off to head Southwest to Glasgow and the Clyde.



Here, if you look to your left, you’ll see two enormous horses heads rising out of the earth just a short distance away. I’ve seen them a few times in my trips around Scotland but never up close.

As it turns out, they are symbolic sculptures of not just the horses drawing the boats and ploughs and carts of the old landscape, but of kelpies, the mythical shape-shifting spirits that would lure unwary humans down to a watery underworld.



They were the first stop on our bus tour of the wonders of Falkirk.

Esther, who works as a consulting mental mechanic and probably sees me and my hobbies as a traveller on the borderlands of sanity - much like my dear wife - humoured me as we explored the great sculptures.



There was coffee from a cart - my third of the day after my Delter brew back at my AirBnB and a machine espresso I’d lifted from the breakfast room of the hotel where the bus collected our group of BookCrossers - and that helped restore me to some approximate harmony in a time zone wildly out of whack with my body clock.



I posed my little travelling bear with a view of the sculptures, and my friend atop a smaller installation, and then I explored the site.





There were swans and cygnets to see - oddly enough, these were not overly protective and I suspect hung out for unhealthy snacks from the tourists - and the convoluted waterways of the place to explore.

The great heads were surrounded by moats, to give force to the legend of the water beasts, and the canal basin nearby held boats in a harbour away from the vagaries of the river Carron.



The sculptures, imaginatively named Headup and Headdown, could be accessed via bridges and doors, and everyone took a peek through to see the inside, mostly a gargantuan framework of steel tubes supporting the distinctive metal skin.



We were to take a proper gander inside with a guide to explain the symbolism and history, and I can thoroughly recommend it, not just for the information gained from guide and signboards but for the photography opportunities. A kelpie selfie, imagine that.

Sadly there was no elevator to the top, though a vertiginous ladder led upwards and was strictly off-limits.



The way out led through the cafe and gift shop, where visitors could pump up the local economy and admire artworks.

 

[Skyring]

Bonus Kelpie images
These things are pretty photogenic, inside and out. @Bundy Bear recently toured the place and produced some excellent images. I went for the quirky end of the spectrum.















Well, I had fun, anyway.

 

[Skyring]

Here's where the big boats fly

I'd known about the Falkirk Wheel for some time. Read up on it, watched videos, looked at the Wikipedia article.

When I visited Scotland in 2014 with my son and again the next year with my wife, we stopped in at the wheel, browsed the excellent souvenir shop, had lunch and admired the thing in operation.

Here's my coughpy hand-held video:

This time, we BookCrossers had an hour or so to look around the visitors centre and basin before taking our own private boat ride aboard a pair of boats run by Seagull Cruises, a trust aimed at providing free scenic canal cruises for those with special needs. I don't think we BookCrossers quite come under that heading - though my non-BookCrossing friends and relatives might disagree - and we actually had to make a suitable donation but whatever, this was THE highlight of my whole overseas trip and I cannot praise the Seagull people too highly.

They also run an excellent bookshop and cafe in Falkirk. Highly recommended.

The Wheel was a project aimed at celebrating the new millennium, providing a useful purpose, and having a "wow" factor. It certainly does all three. The old Union Canal had been sadly neglected over the years and one reason was that the flight of eleven locks taking the canal up from the sea level Forth and Clyde was hugely expensive in time and water. As the Wikipedia article notes, it took most of a day and 3 500 tonnes of water to move a single boat up - or down - the hill.

The Falkirk Wheel bypasses nine of these locks and is much quicker and uses little or no water. It is a unique piece of engineering and a wonder to watch.

It and its associated visitor centre, basin, and aquatic learning park are popular tourist attractions, particularly on a sparkling hot summer day such as the one we were blessed with.

When I had earlier visited, there had been a pair of 1/10th scale Kelpies - maquettes, they called them - placed nearby. These had been removed, and possibly were the same ones we had seen at the Kelpies themselves. Apparently, there are two pairs and they tour around. They are movable beasts.



But there was no shortage of cultural artifacts to be found around the visitor centre. The design of the supports for each of the two boat chambers of the Wheel echoes ancient Celtic "bearded axes" and they are strikingly elegant and eye-catching. This has to be one of the most photographed places in the United Kingdom.



The thing is simple enough. A boat moves into the lower chamber, doors close at either end, the wheel rotates and on docking at the top, the doors open and the boat sails out along an aqueduct before joining the regular canal some distance away.

To be pedantic, only one door opens per chamber at a time. You don't want water flowing out of the open end at the top - it might carry the barge along with it for a thrilling but short ride - and the bottom chamber settles into a dry pit so as not to have to shift tonnes of water aside each time the wheel begins a rotation. Doors and U-shaped seals ensure that all the water remains in place.

It doesn't matter if a boat occupies a chamber or not. Because a boat displaces its own weight in water, the weight of each chamber remains equal, Apparently, the energy required to rotate the perfectly balanced wheel is about the same as that needed to boil a kettle or two.

Our ride wasn't ready to board. In fact the BookCrossing tour was in two halves, with one group boarding the boats at the Seagull boatshed in Falkirk, riding the canal and taking the Wheel down to the basin where our group would board for the return trip. The organisers and the bus driver had some fancy footwork to ensure that both groups were where they should be all the time.

Not to worry. We checked out the giftshop, had a sandwich and bottle of "Thistly Cross" cider, walked around the basin, and found a shady spot to wait for our embarkation. I had imagined that we would be sailing on one of the Scottish Canal boats. Fifteen quid to be boarded in six abreast and told not to move on the short trip up, turn around, and come down again.



But no, our trip was a more open and friendly affair. Above is one of the two boats: a crew of four and a passenger load of eight apiece.

Eventually we were led to a pair of boats, divided into parties of eight, and shown aboard.



Our sister - the Govan Seagull - loads first.



Each arm of the wheel can take two narrowboats side by side. Our boat slides in beside its sister, BookCrossers on deck enjoying the view.

Incidentally, this foredeck area contains a wheelchair lift, allowing disabled passengers to board the boat and to be elevated for a view. The whole operation is based around giving people who would otherwise find it very difficult a chance to get a fascinating canal boat ride. Putting smiles on their faces is what it is all about.



Up close beneath the wheel. The central axis is above us, and above that another tray full of water holding another boat.



Up we go! Almost halfway there.



Nearly there…



Looking forward along the roof of our boat, the other one on our left. Almost at the top with rings aligned. "Technically speaking," the deckhand said, "we're not supposed to let you out on deck."

Nobody was stopping us, not the crew, not the Scottish Canals safety officer riding up with us, and certainly not we passengers, cameras pointing in all directions.

So long as we stayed on the boat, kept all our body parts within the railings, and didn't make a nuisance. we were tolerated. BookCrossers tend not to be overly rowdy, it must be said.

 

[i0sam0i]

Great trip report so far, glad you seem to be getting through it all.
My sister in law is from Glasglow and this TR has put this part of the world on the list for me.

 

[Semioticghosts]

View attachment 335055

Here's where the big boats fly

I'd known about the Falkirk Wheel for some time. Read up on it, watched videos, looked at the Wikipedia article.

When I visited Scotland in 2014 with my son and again the next year with my wife, we stopped in at the wheel, browsed the excellent souvenir shop, had lunch and admired the thing in operation.

Here's my coughpy hand-held video:

This time, we BookCrossers had an hour or so to look around the visitors centre and basin before taking our own private boat ride aboard a pair of boats run by Seagull Cruises, a trust aimed at providing free scenic canal cruises for those with special needs. I don't think we BookCrossers quite come under that heading - though my non-BookCrossing friends and relatives might disagree - and we actually had to make a suitable donation but whatever, this was THE highlight of my whole overseas trip and I cannot praise the Seagull people too highly.

They also run an excellent bookshop and cafe in Falkirk. Highly recommended.

The Wheel was a project aimed at celebrating the new millennium, providing a useful purpose, and having a "wow" factor. It certainly does all three. The old Union Canal had been sadly neglected over the years and one reason was that the flight of eleven locks taking the canal up from the sea level Forth and Clyde was hugely expensive in time and water. As the Wikipedia article notes, it took most of a day and 3 500 tonnes of water to move a single boat up - or down - the hill.

The Falkirk Wheel bypasses nine of these locks and is much quicker and uses little or no water. It is a unique piece of engineering and a wonder to watch.

It and its associated visitor centre, basin, and aquatic learning park are popular tourist attractions, particularly on a sparkling hot summer day such as the one we were blessed with.

When I had earlier visited, there had been a pair of 1/10th scale Kelpies - maquettes, they called them - placed nearby. These had been removed, and possibly were the same ones we had seen at the Kelpies themselves. Apparently, there are two pairs and they tour around. They are movable beasts.

View attachment 335053

But there was no shortage of cultural artifacts to be found around the visitor centre. The design of the supports for each of the two boat chambers of the Wheel echoes ancient Celtic "bearded axes" and they are strikingly elegant and eye-catching. This has to be one of the most photographed places in the United Kingdom.

View attachment 335054

The thing is simple enough. A boat moves into the lower chamber, doors close at either end, the wheel rotates and on docking at the top, the doors open and the boat sails out along an aqueduct before joining the regular canal some distance away.

To be pedantic, only one door opens per chamber at a time. You don't want water flowing out of the open end at the top - it might carry the barge along with it for a thrilling but short ride - and the bottom chamber settles into a dry pit so as not to have to shift tonnes of water aside each time the wheel begins a rotation. Doors and U-shaped seals ensure that all the water remains in place.

It doesn't matter if a boat occupies a chamber or not. Because a boat displaces its own weight in water, the weight of each chamber remains equal, Apparently, the energy required to rotate the perfectly balanced wheel is about the same as that needed to boil a kettle or two.

Our ride wasn't ready to board. In fact the BookCrossing tour was in two halves, with one group boarding the boats at the Seagull boatshed in Falkirk, riding the canal and taking the Wheel down to the basin where our group would board for the return trip. The organisers and the bus driver had some fancy footwork to ensure that both groups were where they should be all the time.

Not to worry. We checked out the giftshop, had a sandwich and bottle of "Thistly Cross" cider, walked around the basin, and found a shady spot to wait for our embarkation. I had imagined that we would be sailing on one of the Scottish Canal boats. Fifteen quid to be boarded in six abreast and told not to move on the short trip up, turn around, and come down again.

View attachment 335068

But no, our trip was a more open and friendly affair. Above is one of the two boats: a crew of four and a passenger load of eight apiece.

Eventually we were led to a pair of boats, divided into parties of eight, and shown aboard.

View attachment 335056

Our sister - the Govan Seagull - loads first.

View attachment 335063

Each arm of the wheel can take two narrowboats side by side. Our boat slides in beside its sister, BookCrossers on deck enjoying the view.

View attachment 335064

Up close beneath the wheel. The central axis is above us, and above that another tray full of water holding another boat.

View attachment 335065

Up we go! Almost halfway there.

View attachment 335066

Nearly there…

View attachment 335067

Looking forward along the roof of our boat, the other one on our left. Almost at the top with rings aligned. "Technically speaking," the deckhand said, "we're not supposed to let you out on deck."

Nobody was stopping us, not the crew, not the Scottish Canals safety officer riding up with us, and certainly not we passengers, cameras pointing in all directions.

So long as we stayed on the boat, kept all our body parts within the railings, and didn't make a nuisance. we were tolerated. BookCrossers tend not to be overly rowdy, it must be said.

"Movable Beasts" - very good! And fabulous photos,