Day Forty

Friday 23 July – Lanark to Blantyre

This was a great day with a slightly bad ending. The Clyde Walkway, from Lanark to Strathclyde Country Park is a marvel (beyond that it loses its lustre, but more of that later). It’s not technically challenging or difficult to follow, and that’s really the point of it. It is designed to Clydesiders and visitors with a chance for a good walk in beautiful surroundings.

After the drama of the Falls of Clyde, above Lanark, The river settles itself down, flowing more smoothly (with occasional chuckly bits) between rolling hills. After the main road bridge out of Lanark, there is some pavement walking before the Walkway crosses Stonebyres Weir to the North (right) bank of the Clyde, which it follows for several miles. This is a good idea. All the housing and commerce hugs the main road on the South bank, leaving the North bank tranquil. There are no towns and few villages, only the occasional bridging-point providing any disturbance.

The actual path varied from compacted earth to fully-engineered shale on hardcore, and was almost universally good to walk on. Just before the bridge at Crossford, a narrow-gauge railway appeared by the path, at one point passing through a strange rustic hut affair. A dog-walker provided the explanation. At Christmas the railway was used for trips to Santa’s Grotto (the hut). It is part of a leisure complex called Valley International Park.

By agreement, the path has been taken across some back gardens (big ones); we are asked to keep to the path, not peer over the fence, and not pick our noses (I might have got carried away there).

Unseen by me, above the path is a monument marking the birthplace of General Roy, father of the Ordnance Survey – I knew it was there, because the OS map told me. A Scottish engineer and surveyor, Roy was hired by George II to map the Scottish Highlands, so that the highlanders could be better supplied with the comforts of life. Of course I made that bit up – the aim was to make clan-bashing more efficient. But hey! He gave us the maps, so he wasn’t all bad.

Mauldslie Bridge, is a splendid affair, with an arch and a lodge on the other side of the river. It used to serve a castle of the same name, now defunct. A potentially nasty disturbance of a walker’s peace came when the path emerged at the junction of two busy roads, but as traffic was at a standstill, I sauntered through it and resumed my peaceful walk. I spotted my first tower blocks, rising rather impressively over the trees, distance lending them a certain charm they probably don’t have close to.

While the river loops around a double headland, split by a side valley, the path goes over it. A short but brutal climb is followed by a sharp descent, another stiff climb, and a final plunge. The dog-walkers coming the other way were puffing and cursing after about twenty yards of climb. I sympathised, but I didn't divulge what was to come - I didn't want to spoil their fun!

The path sticks closely to the riverbank as it passes through Baron’s Haugh Nature Reserve. It is ironic that the majestic waterway, the Clyde, lies just to the left of the path, while the attention of many of the birds, and all of the birdwatchers, is concentrated on some scruffy puddles on the right.

I now walked through an actual place for the first time – the outskirts of Motherwell – but you wouldn’t know it without the map to tell you. As a railway bridge passes far above, river and path wend their leafy way, only occasional glimpses of houses and a graveyard revealing that I wasn’t still in the country. Even a huge motorway interchange, just a few yards away, was invisible if not inaudible.

Passing under a main road, I entered Strathclyde Country Park. Run by North Lanarkshire Council, the dominant feature of the park is a large lake (Strathclyde Loch). A watersports centre at the lakeside has a cafeteria, which I used for a late lunch. I think this lake must have been part of, or at least communicated with, the Clyde in times past, as the map shows the site of a Roman port on the far side.

For a mile and a half, the path follows a wide grassy strip of land between river and lake, along which families were processing on foot or on bikes in the now-strong sunshine.

As I left the park, things fell apart. The Clyde Walkway signs petered out, leaving me to cross a hotel car park and follow the route marked on the map. This route consisted of a busy road, a busier roundabout, an overgrown path and a badly-vandalised boardwalk near the river. I then had to cross another busy road, and make my way through an industrial estate to… nothing, no sign of any path, just high fences and dead ends.

I only had another half mile to go to Blantyre Station, so I gave up on the footpath and did it by road. The promoters of the Clyde Walkway have done some really good work (with more to come the next day) but this bit was rubbish.