Up the Stairs to an Understanding of Topography #03

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As we walk the concrete, adamant and flagstone pavements of our town, from time to time our feet stray with purpose onto grass and topsoil desire lines - on the beaten track unrecognised by those who have placed the paving, mis-planned our best route from place to place. And just as often, our feet find us climbing or descending the many staircases of the public townscape. When gradients become too steep for comfortable or safe walking and the ground beneath our feet breaks up into the discontinuities of riser and tread, those stringer-held steps can help us to a topographical understanding of the urban space and the underlying human and natural geography. An understanding of human interventions in the landscape - building up artificial features; bridges and causeways, embankments and revetments to span hollows and valleys, to terrace inclines or consolidate banks and tame hills. And we can reach an understanding of those banks, inclines, hollows, valleys and hills themselves - the treads and risers whisper to us a story of the three; no-four (not forgetting time, not forgetting heritage) dimensional shape of our urban environment.

And so a mental acquisition is gained and augmented by the agency of our calves and thighs and their unconscious unblended apprehension of scarp and glen: the sixth psychogeographical sense is fed by unconscious muscle memory and conscious eye.

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Throughout Kincorth, a network of paths and stairways leads through that southern-steep-sloped suburb (or "garden estate" as we are invited now to know it) to the craggy tops of Kincorth Hill - still sometimes know as  'e Grupms. Put a small hot tattie in you mouth and pronounce: The Gramps. Write it out longhand and untruncated and you'll appreciate that this prominence just south of the Dee is the last eastermost finger of The Grampian Mountains, triangling down the whole length of Deeside to a last low summit before finally giving out and giving way to the sea. Known once as Stoneyhill, the area towards the summit is now a nature reserve and is dotted with quarry workings and spoil tips dating from the 18th to the late 20th centuries.

Kincorth has or rather had in the past, a formidable reputation for gang violence, no-go areas and turf wars. But that's all histobunk now. On its traffic-free paths and stairs today, rather than loitering razor-gang hoolies lurking to tax or chib you, much more likely are you to see young mums chatting, the ill-considered parking of their progeny prams the only thing to impede your progress. Or you'll see sullen trendy teens in their jeggings and beehives, sumfily tutting and texting away their duty to walk the family shihtzu, collecting its tiny shits in a little orange plastic bag. But then, from time to time, you might be able to detect an inkling, an afterimage, of this place's formidable past as you note the swallow-tattooed neck of the painfully thin shortarsed shuffling alcoholic old man. His brilliantined attempt to DA his nicotine yellow grey hair betrays the fact that he's not nearly as old as he looks; his face is a contour map of a confrontational past in a lawless frontier. Twitching and grunting, grumbling to himself only, he re-lives past controversies - glories and humiliations -  as he stands smoking outside The Abbot - the area's only pub, near the top of the hill. The pub is named for the Abbot of Arbroath, the medieval religious warlord who held sway over the farms and peasants, crofts and serfs of this area during the days of real strongmen.

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If you stand at one end of Ashvale Place or the other, the 'vale' topography is evident. Presumably ash trees once grew in this valley. But what is not perhaps so clear is the fact that the valley's actually a good deal deeper and steeper than Ashvale Place makes it appear, for the road crosses the valley obliquely. The Holburn (or Ferryhill Burn) runs beneath Ashvale Place - at the far west end of the street it runs on the north, but by the east end of the street it runs on the south. A little exploration can show you the true shape of the valley - steep sides can be made out behind the townhouses on the south side of Union Grove, and likewise, the steep valley is evident in the retaining walls and steep drying greens which run behind the messy incoherent collection of buildings and carparks surrounding the Ashvale Chip Shop on the north side of Great Western Road, visible from Cuparstone Court. At the far west end of Ashvale Place, recent (well, within the last 15 years) redevelopment of industrial land has opened a new access for pedestrians up the south west slope of the valley from Ashvale Place to Claremont St. This is of great benefit to the residents of Pitmuxton, allowing greater permeability along the most direct pedestrian desire line between Pitmuxton and the town centre. Ashvale Place is characterised by robust unfussy Victorian tenements, which the recent long economic boom seems to have treated well. All units seem to be recently rennovated and in pretty good shape - singles and first timers occupy these well-enough-mannered apartments very close to the entertainment and employment zones of the town centre. People of my old-dad's generation knew a different Ashvale Place in the middle 20th century when the street was a slum; then known locally as "Ash-bucket Alley".

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As we walk the urban environment, it is sometimes hard to appreciate just how great were the interventions made by previous generations; it can be difficult to understand just how transformative they were. Most Aberdonians know that Union Street is a viaduct which crosses the valley of the Denburn. But, of course, it's not the only one; Rosemount Viaduct is a similarly impressive structure, if not more so, for it's spectacular curving grace between Schoolhill at its south-eastern end and Leadside Road at the north-west flattened the hills and smoothed access to the fertile slopes of Rosemount beyond while spanning the Denburn twice. Bypassing the filthy muddy sharny slums of Gilcomston and on proud granite arch the Rosemount Viaduct bore the new Victorians high above the old slums below; behind cast-iron parapet, so they could look down on those left behind in Upper Denburn and Jacks Brae in total safety - a different world. The photo shows a latter-day stairway which links a snicket from Upper Denburn to Rosemound Viaduct. On the opposite side, the street called Gilcomston Park, being vehicular, sort of ski-jumps its carrageway from ground level up to the level of the viaduct. 

Viaducts like these exist all over Europe in formerly hilly town centres with which the Victorians had their vainglorious way. Notably Edinburgh has its many viaducts and bridges with vaulted caverns below, and those vaults are put to work as entertainment venues, pop-up pubs, knocking shops, ghost-tour backdrops, etc.  Similarly, London's Oxford street is, in part, raised above the former natural topography. In parts, entire pre-Victorian streetscapes are preserved below vaults, notably the Georgian shopping street which has been preserved almost in its entirety below the Selfridges department store. We understand that this living psychogeographical fossil (for what else can we call it?) has been from time to time used as a film-set. Back home, we have heard claims of secret access, of strange artifacts and of old cottages and the like existing below the vaulted stonework of Aberdeen's viaducts, but we treat these claims with skepticism. We know that, notwithstanding the odd restaurant and nightclub, the vaults of Aberdeen are most commonly used as underground carparks, and commercial storage. However, we would love to learn of more exotic uses, of secrets forgotten, of stories waiting to be told. We would so love be proven wrong.

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Up the Stairs to an Understanding of Topography #02

Today, the stairs we document are all in areas which begin with a 'K'. This is just a coincidence.

At Kincorth, this complex of paths and stairways (pictured left) leads all the way from the southern landfall of the medieval Bridge of Dee to the summit of Kincorth Hill itself. (There's a great deal of interesting history and artifacts in Kincorth and on Kincorth Hill, which we'll cover in more detail someday soon.) At the Bridge of Dee, the river is tidal, and the summit of Kincorth Hill is marked by an Ordnance Survey pillar marking 105m elevation. So that's quite a trek, but well worth it for the view over the entirety of the southern-facing slope from the Dee to Cairncry and north-east to the city centre and over to the North Sea.

The majority of the path is in a directly straight line up the steepest part of the hill, in line with the bridge, and so forms an irresistible temptation to the psychogeographer: the grandiosity of a Roman-straight desire line directly up a hill from a strategic river-crossing is very difficult to ignore.

Mounting the paths and steps from the south of the Bridge of Dee, we take a civic journey in time, from Bishop Elphinstone's medieval bridge, passing a handful of Victorian houses at the Inverdee initiation of the Stonehaven Road, then up and up through the pleasant 20th Century 'garden estate' social housing of Kincorth.

The photo was taken in the autumn, and the charm of the yellowing leaves made for a pleasant, if a bit fall-melancolic walk on the day. During most months, the path is not visible from the south, as foliage obscures it, only in the winter is the lamplit footpath plainly visible to southbound users of the Bridge of Dee. It's is also visible in the winter months from the pocket park which divides Wal-Mart/Asda from South Anderson Drive's terminal roundabout.

Next, these stairs allow an easy climb up the steepest part of Kaimhill from the of the valley of the Ruthrieston Burn at Auchinyell. At this point the trackbed of the dismantled Deeside Railway runs along the valley of the burn and forms a border between the areas of Garthdee/Auchinyell and Mannofield. Once the primary route to highland Aberdeenshire and Royal Deeside, the railway was closed and dismantled in 1966 after 113 years in operation. Then left to grow wild in the 1970's and 1980's the track-bed now forms a highly successful part of the Sustrans National Cycle Network and is designated 'Route 195'. While we like this, we'd still greatly prefer that this were a railway route.

Kaimhill itself is a prominence which separates the broad tributary valley of the Ruthrieson Burn from that of the River Dee. We suspect that the name Kaim-hill may be derived from that of the glacial feature kame: "a geological feature, an irregularly shaped hill or mound composed of sand, gravel and till that accumulates in a depression on a retreating glacier, and is then deposited on the land surface with further melting of the glacier." Aberdeen and Aberdeenshire are strewn with glacial features - but we really don't know for sure if Kaimhill is a kame. If anyone can enlighten us we'd be grateful.

And now, once again to Kepplestone. We've written about Kepplesone once or twice before, and we return to it now in the context of the grand-processional stairway feature which we previously called an "orotund yet oddly asymmetrical staircase [which hints] at a touch of unhinged, slurring megalomania in the conception of the scheme."

We wrote about this new-ish development in slightly mocking tones. We questioned the validity of the design, we raised concrerns about the quality of the fabric of the buildings, and we satirised the emphasis on underground parking upon which both the developer and the residents of this type of new housing appear to place so much emphasis. We received several reader comments in support of what we'd said, but we did appear to have upset one anonymous commentator - a resident of Kepplestone - who wrote:

Yes the outside is not too everyones taste ... But inside is very nice and spacious. The parking is excellent with no common on street problems. And no amount of boring pictures of gutters or negative comments will overcome the fact it is prime real estate in the west end with excellent transport links and local infrastructure.

The rest of the comments are merely jealously.

I bet none of you have even been inside one?

My neighbours are all nice professionals. Unlike the studentville or DSS that seems to occupy most other parts of Aberdeen.

We found these borderline offensive comments, socially prejudiced as they were, to be highly enlightening - telling us a great deal about the abrasive mindset of the type of people who live in Kepplestone today; their insecurities, their beliefs and their provocative outlook.

This gave us quite a lot to ponder upon, particularly in the context of a former resident of Kepplestone who we also learned about through a reader comment.

There he is. Outside Kepplestone House itself (the house is, at the time of writing, still lying derelict on one corner of the site). This is Thomas Ogilvie, wool merchant and hat manufacturer in Aberdeen at the turning of the 19th into 20th centuries. It is said that this man brought the top-hat to Aberdeen. And here he is wearing one (fifth from the left, 2nd row back).

Ogilvie was an old-style paternalistic capitalist, building real capital in this town, investing it and providing wealth for future generations of the entirety of Aberdeen. This is the building of social and civic as well as financial capital - as well as industrial capital. Indeed, he retained architect William Kelly (of Kelly's Cats) to build his stately wool warehouse (Ogilvie Buildings) on the corner of Dee Street and Dee Place which stands in situ to this day, a listed building now converted into city-centre apartments.

We can't help but feel that there's a huge contrast between the - "I've got mine, I'll tolerate no criticism of what I hold dear - but I'm happy to display my contempt of everyone else..."  - attitude so indignantly exhibited by the current Kepplestone resident, and the more civil and civic practical business activities of the resident of Kepplestone one hundred years ago. While the Victorian/Edwardian era saw the operation of capital in the generation and accrual of real societal wealth and was often characterised by great works of philanthropy, today's resident mistakes private affluence for wealth, having no concept of social capital. Let the devil take the hindmost. Thus, where once value (and values) was (and were) built at Kepplestone, today it is (and they are) destroyed.

Up the Stairs to an Understanding of Topography #01

Desire lines diverge

As we walk the concrete, adamant and flagstone pavements of Aberdeen, from time to time our feet stray with purpose onto grass and topsoil desire lines - on the beaten track unrecognised by those who have placed the paving, mis-planned our best route from place to place.

And just as often, we find our feet climbing or descending the many staircases of the public townscape. When gradients become too steep for feet to comfortably and safely walk an incline and the ground beneath them breaks up into the discontinuities of riser and tread, those stringer-held steps can help us to a topographical understanding of Aberdeen. An understanding of human interventions in the landscape - building up artificial features; bridges and causeways, embankments and revetments to span hollows and valleys, to terrace inclines or consolidate banks and tame hills. And we can reach an understanding of those banks, inclines, hollows, valleys and hills themselves - the treads and risers whisper to us a story of the three; no-four (not forgetting time, not forgetting heritage) dimensional shape of our urban environment.

And so a mental acquisition is gained and augmented by the agency of our calves and thighs and their unconscious and unblended apprehension of scarp and glen: the sixth psychogeographical sense is fed by unconscious muscle memory and conscious eye.

Up from Virginia Street to Castle Terrace, up Castle Hill. These steps, according to Aberdeen Civic Society's Alex Mitchell, may well correspond to the former Hangman's Brae, where a house was allocated to the town executioner.

Up from Ruthrie Terrace to Ruthrieston Road, vaulting over the Old Deeside Line disused railway (now re-used as Sustrans National Cycle Network route 195). Up from the broad flat valley of the Ruthrieston Burn (its flood-plain occupied by Asda, carparks, playing fields and a trunk road today). Ruthrieston Road connects the Foords o' Dee (fording the river-shallows where newly feudal modern medieval Ruadri extorted his licensed tax and gained his power) with the south-western marches (ancient borderlands) of Aberdeen along Countesswells Road. But who was the countess?

Devanha Lane climbs step-terraced between unremarkable modern tenements on the après post-industrial sites where brewery and foundry and cattle-exporting/royalty-importing railway terminus once helped built Ferryhill's wealth.

All the way up to splendid Devanha House on the summit of Ferryhill itself from the once tidal mudflat - long-since railway re-claimed - land at the southern end of South College Street, the ancient right-of way connects the southern turnpike road and Wellington Bridge to the heart of Ferryhill.






We've identified about 36 sites like these around town, we'll document them bit by bit over the coming weeks. Nominations are welcome.