Auld Lang Syne

My friends can't believe that I have Scottish heritage. Whilst I do own a kilt and wear it quite regularly in winter, I really don't like a drink and I'm not at all passionate. I can understand their bewilderment so I've come to investigate what this part of the world is all about.
My Uncle Bruce is a wealth of information about my ancestors so in the weeks leading up to my adventure, I head to the local library to access my free 30 minutes per day of 'ancestory.com' and 'findmypast.co.uk'. This is awesome apart from whenever I feel like I've struck a nugget of gold, my time is up and I have to wait another day. Considering there is volumes of research of my family tree in Armidale, there no need to reinvent the wheel so I stick to trying to find out new information that may lead me to some surviving relatives.
There's some confusion about the name-Whan is unusual and it seems to have changed from McWhan to Whan either in Scotland or mysteriously, on the boat across the seas to Australia. The great thing is though, it helps me narrow my search down substantially as there are so few to search through.
My first attempt was quite exciting as I stumbled across a whole family with the head of it being a woman who's occupation was a 'Mangle Woman'. I was slightly off the with date of birth and had gone on a wild goose chase but the excitement of finding photographs of census records and ship logs whet my appetite for what was to become an exciting genealogy adventure.
My Uncle sent me more details clarifying the names and dates of my great, great, great uncle and grandfather. Initial research saw me searching in the Dumfries, Kircudbright, Wigtown and Creetown area with Wigtown being of immediate fascination as it is the 'Book Town of Scotland'. Despite having a population of only 900, it manages to pack 12 secondhand bookshops in amongst a few cafes and pubs. The romance of it all is intoxicating so I book the best B&B and hire a car in anticipation of stopping off on seaside views and hidden Scottish pubs.
I've borrowed all of the Scotland guidebooks possible and spend a good few weeks poring over the many sites to visit that seem to be steeped not only in natural beauty but rich history. I'm heading to the edge of the bay and find another B&B in Creetown a few steps away from the Creetown Heritage Museum which I plan to scour for family heritage. The drive up should take about four hours and I reckon I can squeeze a drive by in to Dumfries and Kircudbright on my way to Creetown. I'll stay one night there before I drive to Wigtown for another night in a B&B with some trips of Newtown Stewart and neighbouring towns thrown in for good measure.
My Uncle gives me the heads up that there are still a few McWhans in the phone book so I give it a crack and cold call them all. I get a few people hanging up on me (must be the old customer service sound to my voice) and a few wins with helpful old men but no new leads. I decide I'll just go on up and see what happens, taking photos of the area and soaking up the scenery.
I head up with some trepidation as I'm hiring a car and am going by myself-Tony's staying with his Mum. My nervousness is due to the fact I haven't driven since January and I've forgotten which pedal is which. Luckily my friend Joyce sorts me out-it's A.B.C right to left and when I get into the car it all comes flooding back. The windscreen wipers are where the indicators are so there's a few wiper moments before I turn corners and some strange beeps coming from the lane sensors but after a while I get into the groove and soak up the scenery. Fred has kindly loaned me his GPS which is brilliant so I'm told where I need to be and once I hit Carlisle, it's well signposted.
Scotland is very pretty and it's bright blue sky and lime green rolling hills truly are spectacular. As I'm driving, I can't take photos of the passing landscape so it's hard to describe the green of the grass-even England with all of its rain doesn't have the intensity of the greenness here. The cows are busy chewing their cud, I spot fat sheep rolling in the grass and the pretty heather is swaying in the breeze. There were also some random camels and alpaca along the way too.
I stop in Dumfries for my lunch, pulling up next to the River Nith admiring the beautiful red stone bridges that crisscross the surging water. The ducks seem to be playing a game of strength-seeing who can manage to remain upstream the longest before the strong current pulls them backwards and over the edge of the rushing water. Driving through the town, I spot the Robert Burns Centre and go in to learn more about the man who wrote so prolifically and most famously 'Auld Lang Syne'. He lived for many years in Dumfries, working as a tax collector whilst philandering with the local publican and writing his poetry but the Scots adore him and his memory is strong and respected. As I'm about to leave, I spot a tub of 'Cream O' Galloway' and remember that this has been recommended in my readings. I ask the man which is his favourite, and take a tub of 'Honeycomb' over to the edge of the river to watch the crazy man in the middle of the freezing river fly fish.
Oh my God. That icecream is absolutely mind blowing. It is made from happy organically reared cows and it shows. It's creamy, all natural and full of homemade honeycomb that melts in ones mouth and explodes full of flavour. Suddenly I don't seem to mind the bitterly cold wind and feel the pure delight one has when ones tastebuds are soaring on the winds of perfection.
Smiling in delight, I climb back in and continue my drive to Creetown. The sun is shining, the clouds are white and fluffy and I can't resist popping into Kirkcudbright to take a few photos. The tide is out

and as I drive into the town. I can see a few remaining boats nestled around the harbour and a sweet little town behind. It has a serene vibe to it and I decide to come back, giving it the time it needs to truly work its magic.
Back in the car, I continue on to Creetown where my host for the night is Ken in Cherrytrees B&B. He immediately takes me under his wing, asking if I'd like to feel part of his family or if I'd like to be left by myself. I say I'd love to be included in his family, and it's the best decision I've made all day. Ken immediately invites me into his kitchen where his two sisters Allesandra and Antoinette are sitting along with David, Toni's husband. Their two dogs are there, Billy and Dougal and I get a big cup of tea and a massive slice of toffee cake that Toni has made. We chat about my family ancestors and Ken gives me a dvd he's made full of local photos as well as a book about Creetown. His family kindly invites me to have dinner with them all and I head off to check out the one horse town that is Creetown. The local heritage museum has just shut so I head up into the old church where I spend ages wandering through the towering headstones trying to find some relatives. The church is shut so I'm left to scan the crumbling headstones, admiring the incredible butterflies and birds that are silently winging past me. There's a walkway behind the church into the woods so I head in to see the town from a different perspective. Complete with ancient ruins, babbling brooks and thick woods, this part of the world is very special. Coming out of the woods

near the town, I wander in to see the old clock tower with its hand carved wooden door, the pub where the cult movie 'Wickerman' was filmed and grab a bottle of wine to bring to dinner with Ken's family.
Dinner is a three course affair and I have well and truly dodged a bullet of having to eat at the local pub where dinner is either microwaved or deep fried. I have a starter of smoked fish salad from the local smokehouse, homemade goulash, and a caramel cheesecake. Yummo. We spend the evening chatting and I drag myself off to bed after 10pm, feeling honoured to have been included into Ken's family dinner.
The museum doesn't open until 11am so after the world's best breakfast of eggs, sausage, bacons, potato scone, tomatoes and mushrooms I follow it up with some fresh juice, brewed coffee and a platter of fresh berries. Ken's B&B is an absolute winner and at £40 a night and refusing to take extra for dinner, I have had the best night. I drive over to Galloway Forest visitors centre where Ken had seen red squirrels with his family the day prior. It's 11 degrees, raining and quite windy so I snuggle up under the bird hide to see what creatures I can spot. Immediately, a red squirrel bounds away, frightened by the noise of me sitting down. I scan the forest and in amongst the trees are numerous feeders crammed with treats for squirrels and birds alike. The forest floor is filled with Coal Tits and at the far corner I spot a Great Spotted Woodpecker which is very cool indeed. There's also a flurry of Great Tits which are beautiful little birds and another quite large bird which I can't identify. Nearly an hour later, I slowly remove my freezing cold body and head off to Newton Stewart.
Ken told me that Newton Stewart will have the biggest collection of local history and he hasn't let me down. The local librarians are fantastic-working one on one with me to find copies of the census records from 1841 and then to the ancient microfiche where I spot the original handwritten copy of where my ancestors were living back in 1841. They do a search on their computers and tell me that 'Balhassie' property still exists and after an hour or so of searching through Scottish records, I have a map of both 'Balhassie' and 'Holecroft' two of

the locations where ancestors worked the farms. Balhassie is back in Creetown so I drive back down the road and head down an old farm road in search of the property. I can't see any names so stop to take photos where the property would've been admiring the views across the green rolling hills over grazing cows and sheep to the bay below. It it an idyllic place to live and I see how both sea and countryside intermingle into a happy scene. The museum should be open now, so I drive back into Creetown, passing a lady pushing a pram. She tells me that she's not heard of 'Balhassie' but that the old barn on the corner is called 'Barhassie'. I hadn't noticed the sign so resolve to photograph it tomorrow on my way back to England.
The Creetown Heritage Museum is fantastic.

Staffed by volunteers, it is full of old photographs, farming equipment, props from the movie 'Wickerman' and mock shop and home from Ye olde times. The lady at the desk searches all of her files for the local graveyard finding no Whans or McWhans at all. I move inside to see the museum, spotting an old school record from 1874-1909 of the local school. Having a flick through it, it seemed to be a list of all of the children who passed through the school, complete with a registration number of each child. Turning to 'W' I am shocked to find multiple 'Whan' references and delightedly take numerous photos of the carefully written names. Talking to the lady however, we are surprised that there are no Whans or McWhans in the cemetery. Where have they all disappeared to? Another

elderly gentleman comes in and he has never left the town. He knows everyone in it and also has never heard of my ancestors. I'm told that many people were illiterate so when they registered births, never knew how to spell their own surname and often the people registering the births made up the spelling or misheard names resulting in surnames losing the Mc part as well as various similar sounding names. We are also wondering if perhaps they may have been catholic or another type of Christian meaning they worshiped in another town or even if they emigrated to Canada or the states. There was a reference to James Whan in the library that mentioned his family emigrated to Canada.....where's all these Whans disappeared to?

I've already spent hours here and am due at the next B&B in Wigtown so thank the incredibly kind volunteers and drive around the bay to my next stop. Wigtown has a population of about 900 but manages to fit 12 bookshops into its small high street. Some of my ancestors came from here also so as I check into 'Brora Lodge' and enjoy my cup of tea in the back sunroom, I wonder why they left this pretty part of the world. As farmers they would've had an idyllic life with so much rain and such beautiful surroundings of flowers, cows, blackberries and sheep with the harbour as a backdrop. I wander into the town to try and find out more.
The local church has a war memorial, next to it from WWI as well as a commonwealth grave site. The

church is shut so I continue down to the 'Martyrs Stake' where two women were tied to the stake and left to drown due to their passionate Covenanter beliefs. They were opposed to the Episcopacy from the Stuart monarchs and subsequently died from their beliefs. Not much has changed in history-people are still killing themselves and others in religious beliefs. When will we ever learn?
Coming back into town I pop into Scotland's largest bookshops full to the brim of ancient volumes and cosy corners to snuggle up with a book. The local history shop is particularly unfriendly, so I wander through the shops before heading out for an early dinner. Helen tells me the best place for dinner is

the Bladnoch Inn opposite the Bladnoch distillery so as its a mile or so walk away, I head off for an early dinner. The food is nice and the pub is a quiet affair so after trying a Scotch Whisky (incredibly they'd sold out of the local whiskey.....its a 10 meter walk to the distillery!!! What????!!!!) I wander back to my home for the night. Finding some wild blackberries along the way and chatting to the cows waiting to be milked, I find another cemetery on the way back into town and check it out to see if I can find any ancestors. No luck, so back home where I turn on the TV to find 'Who do you think you are?' playing with a man exploring Brick Lane in London where I'd been only a few weeks ago. It's amazing how a team of historians can make this genealogy gig so quick!

Wanting to experience another aspect of Scottish breakfasts, I've chosen a smoked haddock and a poached egg for my breakfast. It was under the 'Lighter Options' although when it comes my way, it's massive! I haven't needed lunch these past two days. Driving back to Creetown, I stop to take photos of the 'Barhassie' farm as well as 'Harbour Street' as there was a reference on ancestory.com that perhaps a James Whan lived on Harbour street at one time. The local gem museum was the old Kirkmabreck Public School so I pop in to see if they have any old records of the students that studied here. Whilst they don't, I'm introduced to an older lady to see if she knows of my family and get a quick look around the huge stone rooms and original flooring. It's a pretty cool gem museum also

which I find fascinating as both my Uncle and myself adore semi precious and precious stones with my Uncle Bruce having a impressive collection of stones he's fossicked himself.
I continue back on the main road, stopping in Gatehouse of Fleet to admire a family of swans and also check out the Cardoness Castle which towers over the bay. I was nearly the only person there and climbing up the ancient tower house castle ruins, I could easily imagine how life might have been for the McCulloch clan who owned the castle. Seems they were a bit feisty, liking to bump off anyone who annoyed them.
Kircudbright was shining brightly when I arrived back there, the harbour full of water and the fishing vessels busy with nets and fisherman racing around readying themselves for their trip. The town itself is known as the 'Artist Town' so I stopped for a while to soak up the atmosphere and wander around the shops. I found an incredible antique shop full of beautiful white linen and old crockery when a silver bracelet caught my eye. I am buying one bracelet/bangle from every country I go to as my only souvenir. It was similar to a bracelet that Uncle Bruce had given me years back but this one was made with coins from.....1840 onwards! The years I've been investigating! The coins were predominantly Canadian with one from the states, with an initial that looked like an 'M' engraved into it. An antique bracelet in Scotland with old 1800's coins from Canada and the states? It was perfect for my ancestor adventure, especially when the lady kindly let me bargain her down to £20. Hooray! What a brilliant story this bracelet has.
Passing 'Cream O Galloway' it takes all of my willpower not to go in and eat more icecream and I notice that the road is beginning to get full of public holiday traffic. Deciding to head back to England to skip the traffic, I spend the rest of the journey watching beautiful Scotland fly by my window, leaving me to ponder what happened to my ancestors and dreaming of the day I can return again to explore more of this stunning country.