Where We Walked – Glenashdale Waterfall and the Giant’s Graves, Arran, Scotland #Walks #Photographs #Viewpoints #Waterfalls #Legends #History

We’ve just returned from a wonderful couple of weeks on Arran. The photographer sourced the walks for us. Today he promises a short outing because it’s rather warm; “maybe a couple of hours allowing for stops… for Dusk, our borrowed border collie, of course”. (Oh, not for photographs then?).

We are going to one of the most famous waterfalls on Arran, Glenashdale Falls, and then on to see the Giants’ Graves.

We follow the directions from a rather old book of walks, which immediately adds a couple of miles on by sending us along a wide rather rough road, instead of going to the end of Whiting Bay and turning onto the forestry track.

Though I have to admit we passed some peaceful scenic views.

We were unable to follow the path through the forest to the Iron Fort due to the damage and fallen trees, caused by the latest storm on the island. So we continued along the wide track for another mile.

We reached Glenashdale Falls, also known as Eas a’ Chrannaig, one of a series of falls on the Glenashdale Burn, which flows from moorland near the summit of Tighvein eastwards towards Whiting Bay.

The viewing platform – not for anyone scared of heights

Not sure why I was encouraged to go along the viewing platform first. Thinking about it, my walking companions may have thought I was heavier than the two of them put together…

The sound of the rushing water competes with the breeze rustling through the trees around us. It’s a magnificent, awe inspiring place.

We retraced our steps from the waterfall and turned left, following a sign to the Giant’s Graves along the wide track … for another mile.

The Photographer trudges through tall grass to the edge of the cliff to take pictures. At one point he disappears completely. Dusk and I wait – patiently – he’s done this disappearing act many times in the past, just to get a good shot of somewhere.

When he returns we walk on, until a sign for a narrow path informs us we’re almost at the site of the Giants’ Graves.

The Giants’ Graves are the remains of two Neolithic chambered tombs on the Isle of Arran in Scotland on a ridge one hundred and twenty metres above the sea and overlooking Whiting Bay to the south. Mostly ruined, with turf covering part of the remains, they still have an air of mystery standing proud in a clearing in the forest.
The North cairn, excavated in 1902, has a chamber that is six metres long, and is around one metre wide. Among the artifacts recovered were pottery shards, flint knives, and leaf-shaped arrowheads.
The South Giant’s Grave has a chamber about four metres long, and over one metre wide. The initial excavations in 1902 only revealed soil and stones, but in 1961/2 more exploration produced nine shards of a round-based vessel, and fragments of burnt bone.

Legend has it that the giant referred to is Fionn mac Cumhaill, an early Irish war-leader, and his followers, known as the Fianna. Between the 10th and 14th centuries, his legend became widely known in Scotland. According to legend, Fionn and the Fianna had superhuman strength and size, being as much as 500 times larger than a man.

It’s getting late; we need to get back to Whiting Bay.

Beyond the graves the narrow path winds its way steeply down. And one of the rare times the Photographer catches me unawares for a photograph … from behind!

One last photo – Whiting Bay, with Holy Island in the distance.

The walk took us just a little more than the two hours that the more up-to-date directions we later discovered, so the following day we had a rest (using Dusk as our excuse again!) before our next adventure – a coastal trek as far as Kingscross Point, stopping to photograph the ruins of a viking fort and the views of Holy Island, before continuing back to Whiting Bay.

The Holy Island or Holy Isle is an island in the Firth of Clyde, off the west coast of central Scotland, inside Lamlash Bay on the larger Isle of Arran. The island is around three kilometres long and around one kilometre wide. Its highest point is the hill Mullach Mòr. There will be more about the Holy Island in our next post of walking on Arran.

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Where We Walked – @Janet’s Foss #Walks #Photographs @Yorkshire Dales #MondayBlog

Our last walk in the Yorkshire Dales was a short early evening stroll to a small waterfall called Janet’s Foss, just outside Malham. The name for the waterfall apparently comes from an old folktale that a fairy queen, Janet (sometimes Jennet), lives in a cave at the rear of the fall. There are numerous stories about this: usually wraiths are not thought to be ghosts or demons, but rather a strange entity somewhere in between the two, similar to poltergeists but much more powerful when appearing as a full-bodied apparition. With Janet, there are claims that she would have practised black magic in life and this eternal damnation is her punishment. So, from the numerous conflicting tales we were told when we asked, she was either a magical fairy, or a vengeful creature.

The waterfall carries Gordale Beck over a limestone outcrop into a deep pool below. The pool was traditionally used for sheep dipping, which drew in local villagers as a social occasion. We were told that there have also been a few wedding ceremonies there. Our resident font of all knowledge in the local pub told us that the pool is occasionally used by all-weather wild swimmers. When I mentioned this to the photographer he announced he hadn’t brought his swimming trunks. Not sure he had the right idea about ‘wild swimming’.

Image courtesy of Annabelle Bradley

The footpath from Malham starts from Malham Smithy, where the female blacksmith, Annabelle Bradley, runs blacksmith experience days, and also designs and hand forges sculptural and functional wrought ironwork. We’d stopped to watch her work from outside the door, earlier in the week. It was fascinating. Just leaving the link here, just in case you’re interested: https://www.malhamsmithyonline.co.uk/

Walking over a short bridge and alongside a small beck we went through fields and kissing gates. (No stiles!!)

On the footpath to Janet’s Foss a couple of old tree stumps have become home to hundreds of pennies where people have left them and made a wish to Janet.

We could smell the garlic even before we entered the wood.

Here I go again … can anyone else see the profile of a face in these rocks?

We stayed listening to the rhythmic flow of the water, and waiting for the mysterious green mist that was supposed to sometimes rise from the water- until the chattering and clattering of boots announced the arrival of walkers, and brought us back to reality.

Time to make our way back to the cottage we were staying in. Time to pack for our return home the following morning. Time for just one more glass of wine.