Penrith, Stirling and Dumfries

A short trip to Scotland with a purpose is where I start my solo traveling life. 

I'll be visiting friends near Stirling and undertaking some family history research in Dumfries. But first, Penrith where I had hoped to see the legendary largest policeman uniform as the Cumbria constabulary's museum collection has largely fetched up at the Penrith museum. I sent them an email long before I left but their very prompt reply ruled out any specific Currie family connection. I thought I'd come anyway.

Day one

I get up at stupid o'clock. Stupid because it's over an hour before I need to, and even after a very relaxed breakfast I still have time for a full edition of Celebrity Antiques Roadtrip before I need to amble down to Fratton station. Even when I get there my train is still only the fourth one due. Sarah wouldn't have allowed this nonsense, but here we are.

An uneventful, if dozy, journey to Waterloo is followed by the Northern Line to Euston where I pick up some lunch (and for full disclosure, a pre-lunch Whopper Junior). There are, it turns out, absolutely no litter bins in Euston station. I'm booked on the 12.30 to Glasgow central which starts boarding at about ten past. My handful of rubbish is dumped in the train's bin as I get on. Without knowing, I've thankfully reserved a seat as the train looks to be very busy. Even better, the seat next to me remains empty despite it having been booked through Carlisle. The train is a pendolino and travels at a fair lick reaching our first stop at Warrington after only 100 minutes. Penrith, 290 miles from London is a mere 3½ hours of pretty comfortable travel. I have to wonder if HS2 is really worth it.

For once, arriving by train is super convenient for checking in to my accommodation as I arrive at the B&B minutes before regulation check-in time and am welcomed in. It's a very smart but homely place, very welcoming.

After a late afternoon's rest in front of the snooker, I head out for a quick wander around town, getting my bearings, before settling on the nearby Italian restaurant for dinner. This turns out to be a good choice as a very enjoyable dinner is served by exceptionally friendly (family?) duo. I have carpaccio and cartoccio, both excellent. After dinner which I pop in to the nearby pub for a whisky and then a beer and a watch of the football. Arsenal are playing and there's a Liverpool fan in desperate for them to lose.

Day two

Breakfast is early. It's good, but way too early really. As a result I'm up and out long before the museum opens. While I'm wandering about what is a very interesting and pretty town, I notice there are several references to "Dockray" which I must look in to later - the name appears in the family tree - and stumble across a newly opened and beautifully curated antiques shop where I buy a beautiful horn Quaich and have a lovely chat with the owners. Finally I'm able to visit the museum which is small and lovely but has nothing really police-related in it so I leave disappointed. Having pretty much exhausted Penrith  for entertainment I opt for an afternoon in "The Lakes" and after a fair wait at the bus station take a bus to Pooley Bridge at the head of Ullswater. The place is almost entirely geared up for getting the most out of tourists, the two main pubs serving expensive fairly ordinary food and drink for instance. The one bright spot is the local book and coffee shop where I pick up a couple of things to take home and am introduced to Westmoreland Pepper Cake with my coffee. It's a hot day, and a misleading bus timetable leads to an hour's wait for the next chance to return to Penrith and a quiet evening in front of the snooker.

Day three

After breakfast I leave for the station and a train to Edinburgh and on the Stirling where I am to stay with friends for the weekend. A very quick and efficient couple of hours later I'm met at Stirling station and taken to their new home near Plean. A quiet afternoon ensues. Whisky is imbibed in the evening.

Day four

Stirling Castle is our first destination. Booked in advance, we arrive early enough for a place in the car park and a wander around the churchyard which include the sentimental Victorian memorial to Margaret Wilson who was drowned for refusing to give up Protestantism during the Scottish reformation. 

Stirling Castle offers regular, free, guided tours and it is well worth taking one. Our guide was also very good and we had a great time. It's easy to see the importance of Stirling Castle in the history of Scotland as the position it occupies is clearly impossible to sneak an army past without being noticed.

After the castle we wandered down into the town itself for a poke about, finishing up at an art collective/shop where I added to my souvenirs.

Day five

Today is distillery day! But first a jaunt around a very nice antiques centre at Buchany nearby. It's a place one can spend hours and fortunes. I seriously toyed with the idea of a beautifully boxed decanter set but both the price tag and the logistics of getting it home forced me to see sense.

Deanston distillery is on the banks of the River Teith housed in an old cotton mill. The whisky it produces is beautiful too. We had a warehouse tasting and were very well served, leading to me spending a stupendous amount in the shop.

Another relaxed evening with a good amount of whisky followed.

Day six

My onward journey involved a couple of trains (three, as it turned out) and a change of station in Glasgow to get to Dumfries and the meat of my trip - ancestor hunting!

I was dropped at the station an hour ahead of my train so it was a relaxed time doing the games on my phone as I awaited the train to Glasgow Queen Street. This was very straightforward, arrived on time and I made my way to the station concourse for the next leg. The train to Dumfries left from Glasgow Central and my ticket included a bus transfer but the location of the bus stop was unclear and it was only a 10 minute walk, the weather was fine, so a stroll through the city centre it was. Glasgow Central is a large station made to look older and posher than perhaps it is. My train was probably leaving from platform 14 (iirc) so I made my way over that way and started staring at the small departure board there. It got perilously close to the scheduled departure time before the board finally confirmed that the train that had been there all the time, a good twenty minutes, was indeed the train to Dumfries. 

The weather was warming up nicely as the train dawdled out and across the Clyde. We hadn't gone very far; Stewarton I think, before it became clear that the engine was not in the best of working order. After really struggling to engage its gears to pull out of the station, the train manager (Guard for older readers) told us that the train was now incapable of going beyond Kilmarnock where we would either get a bus onwards or we could wait for the two o'clock train (it was now roughly 11.30am). We limped into Kilmarnock where the station manager assured us the bus was on its way. Several passengers were on time sensitive journeys and were increasingly anxious as the bus continued not to arrive. Refunds were sought and taxis investigated. It was by now well after noon and the chance of the bus significantly beating the two o'clock train to Dumfries was getting slimmer so I decided I'd wait for the train. By the way, Kilmarnock station is at the top of quite a steep looking hill and the thought of dragging myself back up it after investigating the dubious delights of the town for an hour made my mind up to wait on the platform for the now eighty minutes before the next train arrived. As I reached the platform a shout came from  the station building that the bus had finally arrived and did I want to catch it? I declined. All this palaver meant that I arrived at Dumfries station in the late afternoon rather than just after lunch as planned.

I was staying at a guest house just across from the station. They had sent me a text that morning detailing how I was to access my room - the code to the (back) door and the key to my room lodged in the door itself. It seemed odd not to be met, the place itself was lovely and very comfortable, and when I finally met my host at breakfast the next day, they were very nice and very welcoming.

The station, and therefore my guesthouse, is a good ten minute walk from the town centre and anywhere nice to eat. After settling in therefore, I went for a bit of a wander without any clear idea of where i was going. Fortuitously I found myself outside the Burns House museum a good twenty minutes before it closed. It's a very nice, very small museum of the later years of Burns' life and I had a nice chat with  the guardian before going on to St Michael's churchyard where Burns' mausoleum is situated.

The early evening was still warm as I wondered around the churchyard, taking note of any Currie graves I came across and pausing to look at Burns' mausoleum. After leaving the church I made my way down to the river where I encountered the man from the Burns House again who told me of the delights of the main museum including, which I did not know, its Camera Obscura! We parted as he crossed the river and I turned back towards the town centre again where I eventually settled on a curry at the India Palm which proved to be a wise choice. Back to my guesthouse, some world snooker on the telly and an early night, for tomorrow would be genealogy heavy.

Day seven

I have booked myself into the Dumfries and Galloway Family History Society reading room from opening at 10am and I'm quite prepared to spend the bulk of the day there. I'm early. At about 9.55 they notice I'm waiting and invite me in. They're lovely people and can't wait to help look for records while  I browse the many booklets of monumental inscriptions, making notes of locations and inscriptions for further future cemetery visits. We make some small but not insignificant progress before I decide I've exhausted what I can achieve there today and after offering profusive thanks, I set off for the museum at the top of the hill. Sadly for me I miss the pedestrian turn off and end up following the signs for cars in what turns out to be a long and winding route up the hill on what is turning into quite a hot day.

The museum is lovely and well curated and I spend some time there before booking my spot for the camera obscura. The operator is not very experienced but it's a good one despite the much taller trees now than when it was built, obstructing some of the views.

At the bottom of the hill, on the river, is the Burns Centre which has a café/bistro attached and my large breakfast is wearing off. Lunch is nice and then I make my biggish mistake. One of the books I read this morning was Monumental Inscriptions of St Michael's churchyard, towards the back of which is a record of one of the graves myself, Heather and other members of the Facebook group are looking for. The book says it is in the new part of the cemetery which I take to mean it's in the new cemetery a way up the hill. The day is now hot and the walk is a lot further than I thought so I arrive in what turns out to be a very large cemetery on a very hot day without any further refreshment. After a rest in the shade I start looking for that particular grave in the area the book says it is. I can't find it but there are other Curries and related families so I trawl the entire section walking up and down the rows of gravestones taking photos and getting increasingly exhausted. After over an hour I've also exhausted all possibilities and decide to leave. Footsore, I find a local shop and inhale a bottle of water and some chocolate (for energy of course!) and set off back down the hill, eventually arriving back at the guesthouse for a well-earned nap before contacting Heather about my day, having a shower and heading back out for dinner at the popular Italian restaurant in the town centre. A couple of pints at the Tam O'Shanter before bed, along with a nice chat with a worried Preston fan (the final matches of the season are at the weekend and Preston are in danger of relegation) I try to reassure him that Pompey are likely to get a result and Preston will be safe - which turns out to be true.

Day eight

Today I'm meeting up with Heather (and her friend) for a day of churchyard visits and other local landmarks associated with the Currie family. Rather than them driving into Dumfries and back out to Lochmaben, it's easier for me to catch the bus out to them. Sadly two scheduled buses don't turn up and I wait over an hour before another suitable service arrives and I finally get to Lochmaben where we meet a the townhall/library and go for a coffee to get acquainted and plan our day. Naturally the first stop is just round the corner in Lochmaben's cemetery which is a bit overgrown and lumpy, but we find a few possible family graves that we photograph for later research.

Not far away is the Cruck Cottage museum which is an excellent preservation of a cottage like those some of our ancestors would have lived in or at least have been familiar with. We find it open and wander in before the guardian comes across and points out the newly repaired patches of floor we've walked on. He's very helpful though and we have a good chat with  him about the cottage and the area and our research before we move on.

Next stop is the graveyard at Torthorwald church where we know there are family graves to be found, one of which people are keen to have re-photographed and then on to Collin (tiny) before a refreshment stop where they have some lovely ice cream and I have a very disappointing sandwich.

Heather has been in contact with the farmer who lives at a place our ancestors were married, Rockhallhead nearby, and we are able to visit the farm at least. He gives us thankfully detailed directions and after trying and failing to convince the woman who now owns the old farmhouse to let us take pictures, we meet the farmer for a quick chat about the history of the farm etc., and he also gives us a tip about the best place to photograph the house from the road.

The day is wearing on and they decide they need to go to Dumfries for something so are happy to drive me 'home'. We arrange to meet for dinner the next evening.

Day nine

The DGFHS is open again today and I need to check what I thought I read in the book on St Michael's on Tuesday. I find the book again and read the section more carefully and of course, the "new" section of the cemetery predates the New Cemetery and is a walled section secreted behind the Burns mausoleum and when I get there it is a matter of moments before I find the grave exactly where it should be. I check the rest of the section for other potential family graves before taking it easy for the rest of the day, exploring the town a bit more, watching some more snooker before dinner as arranged at the tapas restaurant near the river. It's not any tapas a Spaniard would recognise, but it's tasty and we have a lovely evening before saying our goodbyes.

Day ten

Home today. A light breakfast - I don't want to be uncomfortable - and then quite a wait for my train. I'm sitting patiently on one platform when the driver of the train on the other platform calls across; am I going to Carlisle? then I should go with his train. It's an hour earlier than my booked train but it seems fine and so I'm off. In reality I'm just moving my hour's wait from Dumfries to Carlisle but there's probably a better chance of a more comfortable wait and coffee in Carlisle. I do indeed get some coffee, encounter a stag party changing into drag in the loo (ironic) and have an altogether more interesting wait before my train arrives. This train is going to London but I'm getting off at Crewe to catch a later train that will get me there earlier by not going via Birmingham. They're both Pendolinos so fast and comfortable so even with the tube across London and the usual SWT to Fratton, I'm home by 6.30pm which I think is pretty good given the stick handed out to the trains in this country.