SHOULD YOU FIND YOURSELF in the sad situation of seeking a spot on which to scatter all that remains of a loved one (or, come to that, choosing somewhere for your own eventual ashes), you couldn't do better than almost anywhere in the Ochils. Indeed, were it not for the fact that I've elected to be buried rather than cremated (the lair already booked and paid for!), I know exactly where I'd like my ashes to be scattered.
A couple of summers ago while walking the dog, I happened to pass the "preachin' stane" - a large, flat stone behind Blairlogie Castle where the preacher stood during fine-weather services prior to the completion of Blairlogie Kirk in 1761 - and noticed on it some apparently discarded flowers amid a scatter of fine grit. After staring at this for some time, it finally clicked that I was looking at the remains of someone - someone who knew of the significance of the place or who might well have passed that very spot while out walking a dog in years past. I know of another such place.
In early 1996, when we were deeply involved in the complex merry-go-round of holiday lets, we received a booking for the coming summer from Australia. Thus, over a period of a month, we got to know Les and Beth O'Brien. Beth was originally from Stirling while Les, Irish antecedents apart, was through-and-through Aussie and a thoroughly decent Aussie at that - quiet, polite, honest and, as events would prove, very determined. They fell in love with the Ochils and, though neither could be described as particularly fit, climbed and walked as far as they were able. The holiday was an outstanding success and so contact was maintained in the form of a card each Christmas. I think it was the third such card that intimated all was far from well with Beth; cancer was mentioned. Within a year, she was dead.
The next I heard from Les was to tell me he wanted to bring Beth's ashes to Scotland and scatter them at a spot close to ruined Fossachie at the western end of the Ochils. Would I please clear it with the local landowner? Malcolm Snowie (for that is he) had no problem with this and so, in the summer of 2000, Les O'Brien, accompanied by a piper playing a lament, deposited his wife's ashes at his chosen spot - one that had, previously, so impressed them.
The following year, Les wrote to say he was of a mind to place a wee plaque at the spot and, again, would I clear it with Malcolm Snowie. Permission granted, a small foundry near Les's home town of Goulburn, New South Wales, was commissioned to make it and, in August of last year, Les (accompanied by an equally quiet and polite brother) appeared at our door, plaque and a pretty comprehensive tool-kit in hand. The plaque was bolted to a rock face that very afternoon.
There's always a risk attached to describing the whereabouts of something as unguarded and unprotected as this, but our readers, being sensible and responsible people, present no threat. So, where is it? Head for Fossachie and, nearer the western end of the ruins (and with your back to them) face south - towards the carse below. Keeping the summit knoll of Pengower on your left, walk forward and round to the front of the outcrop and there, slightly above eye-level, you should see the plaque. And the inscription? Basic details of Beth and, interestingly, insignia of the Scouting movement - a lifelong interest for both of them, and one which had led to their meeting when Beth emigrated to Australia many years ago.