CLYDE

 Falls of Clyde

Late December 2019

You can’t really explore the Central Belt without visiting the Falls.   It’s where the grain of the landscape is dramatically carved through by the power of the Clyde in a succession of spellbinding linns - Bonnington, Corra, Dundaff and Stonebyres.  A great place to get outdoors.  However, during Christmas  holidays, good intentions of long walks when days are short can fail to materialise.  Even a mooted run with club mates had only myself and Becky make it to the deserted car park. 

I remember watching a schools’ TV documentary about New Lanark - Robert Owen used a colour coded “silent monitor”.   Although a world away from the horrors of dark satanic mills it still seemed creepily controlling.  Whilst the World Heritage Site is a place of wonder, shrouded in mist, it felt claustrophobic, and running beyond workers' housing to the woods of Castlebank, an escape.

We ran a full circuit, crossing the river at the 17th century Clydeholm Bridge downstream and then again at the bridge above Bonnington Linn.  The quiet west bank is good for running - paths there weave more with the contours than the direct ascents on the east. 

When running with someone conversations tend to drift in and out, when the going is good and the landscape more commonplace – say through forestry. then that flows - Christmas holidays, favourite places, families, New Year plans.  A short sharp hill however takes the breath away, whilst tricky bends, or negotiating tree roots require to cut to task.  At some points, the sheer majesty of place became the talking point.

Though it was a dreich, drizzly December morning that drained colour, it didn’t render the landscape dull, rather it suited the falls, giving them a Gothic quality  - thundering white water over dark Devonian sandstone, densely vegetated banks, ivy clad trees and rocky outcrops.  There were ruinous remnants of designed landscapes associated with abandoned castles, imposing semi-ancient woodland, follies, perilous viewing areas and dramatic cliff edge paths.   All contributed to the brooding drama of the ravine.

Above Bonnington, sluice gates control flow and ensure water is held to supply the Hydro Station.  in spring and summer the river can become a comparatively impotent trickle.  On dark days of winter, when soils are saturated, so much water runs off that it still roars and thunders, channelled by the huge cliffs down the wooded gorge.  It is an all-encompassing landscape that draws you in.  These are times where you feel closest to the spirit of place that inspired the Romantics (Scott, Coleridge and Turner were all visitors).  

Above Corra Linn, we clambered to the ruinous Hall of Mirrors, built to provide a fantasy experience of the picturesque, a camera obscura creating an illusion of immersion in the depths of the falls. The raw experience of running here felt good enough.  As we finished, the rain came on full pelt, on for the day.  It felt privileged to have been able to recharge our batteries then return to the warmth of home.