
I tracked down the Ellon hippo - but I've yet to solve the mystery of its origins
Bonnie Aberdeenshire is full of surprises.
I discovered yet another one of them this week – the so-called 'Ellon hippo'.
I'd been scrolling on my phone when I'd come across a chat on social media about this fabled beast and was determined to find it for myself.
The comments I'd read were intriguing – especially those that claimed the hippo was one of the iconic sculptures created by artist Stanley Bonnar in the 1970s to dot throughout the Fife town of Glenrothes.
Whatever the truth, I was keen to track down the Ellon version for myself.
There are various ways of reaching it, but as the sun was shining, I decided to turn the hunt into a nice wee walk with my year-old Labrador puppy, Dante.
Parking by Auchmacoy Mission Hall, we marched down a grassy lane towards the River Ythan.
It's a quiet corner of the world – a beautiful, tranquil place, away from traffic, and the perfect spot to spy all sorts of birdlife.
Keen to get Dante in for a cooling swim, I headed to the water's edge. Not a good idea.
His legs were covered in stinking mud before he'd got near the river, and he looked up at me with disdain.
Instead, we shimmied up onto the bridge over the Ythan – the Logie Buchan war memorial bridge.
Built in 1935, there are bronze plaques set into either side of the parapet that commemorate locals who lost their lives during the First and Second World Wars.
I find it fascinating that before the bridge was constructed, a ferry took people across the river.
The remains of the old jetties and pilings can still be seen, and a cottage on the east bank is the former ferryman's house.
The views up and down the water are stunning, and the chances are you'll spot a decent amount of birdlife. I saw swans and ducks.
Once across the bridge, we came to the small parish church of Logie Buchan and its atmospheric graveyard.
This, too, is in a glorious setting, in gently rolling countryside, with fields, lush grazing, trees, and wonderful views across the estuary.
Passing through the tiny hamlet of Kirkton of Logie Buchan, I didn't spot a soul, which was a shame as I had hoped to ask someone if they knew the exact whereabouts of the hippo.
The road straight ahead, flanked by old drystane dykes and with the gorse in full bloom, appealed, and so I decided to see where it led me.
After about half a mile, when the road started to head uphill, I began to doubt myself.
It's just as well I carried on, because right at the top of that hill, in a gated woodland enclosure, was the Ellon hippo!
I felt as though I'd found the Holy Grail, such was my joy.
But I can see how so many people have failed to spot the hippo over the years.
A friend told me he had cycled past it for at least a decade – but only set eyes on the beast last year after someone told him of its existence.
But the thing is, nobody I've spoken to thus far seems to have an answer as to how the hippo came to be here.
One thing I know for sure – after doing a bit of detective work – is that he is not one of Stanley Bonnar's creations.
I sent the artist, now 77, an email, and he confirmed that the hippo has nothing to do with him.
However, Stanley revealed he was once asked by Kirkcaldy-born sculptor Denis Barnes to 'join him and make more hippos'.
Denis, who had installed public artworks in Livingston in the 70s, had set up a 'commercial company' by the time he asked that of Stanley.
'I didn't feel that was my direction, so turned them down,' said Stanley. 'So they made a copy. This may be one of those.'
Of course, my next step was to try to contact Denis. As yet, I've had no luck – and so the mystery of the Ellon hippo's origins remains a mystery.
If any readers know more than me, please feel free to get in touch.
Also on the Logie estate, waiting to be discovered, is an elusive, little-known, but fairly big, 'pyramid'.
I'd been told this was near the entrance to Ladymire Equestrian Centre, and drove there in my mission to find it.
Alas, I didn't spot this at all. Maybe another time.
Since my afternoon spent hunting down strange sculptures, I've been told by a contact that the pyramid was commissioned by a local property entrepreneur as a 'millennium project'.
Bizarrely, it's split in two halves. One half is said to represent the old century, and the other represents the new. It's fascinating stuff.
There's so much to discover in this wee corner of Aberdeenshire.
And you're never too far from Ellon should you need to hunt down coffee and cake after all that exploring.

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BBC News
6 days ago
- BBC News
The great iceberg hunt on Canada's epic new road
A sweeping new highway – nearly 25 years and C$1bn in the making – is reshaping life in Newfoundland and Labrador and opening up Canada's iceberg coast. Standing on a windswept outcrop on the island of Newfoundland's northern coast, I scanned the churning, blue-steel sea for icebergs. Somewhere beyond the restless waves lay the glaciers of Greenland and the ice fields of Arctic Canada. I was hoping to glimpse their offspring – behemoths calved from ancient ice shelves, carried south over two or three years by the Baffin Island and Labrador Currents into a region known as Iceberg Alley, a stretch of water between the southern coast of Labrador and the south-eastern shore of Newfoundland. Squinting, I caught sight of a solid white shape; a still patch in the Labrador Sea. For a heartbeat, I thought I'd found one. Then it vanished in a burst of froth and spray. My husband Evan and I continued along the rocky trail, ducking out of the wind behind a patch of tangled tuckamore. Made up of hardy, slow-growing boreal trees like balsam fir and black spruce, the wind-contorted forest barely reached my chin. Up ahead, Evan pointed out an osprey, fragile and exposed, as it spread its wings to dry. Beyond it, the ocean vista was punctuated by sea stacks, sculpted cliffs and a small, curved bay dotted with abandoned homes. Despite the blue sky and warmth of late spring, life in Newfoundland and Labrador demands ingenuity and resilience. Like the meadow grasses and wildflowers clinging to the salt-laced soil, the people here have only ever held a precarious grip on this wondrous place. I inhaled deeply, marvelling at the austere beauty – then another glint of white caught my eye. "Only a boat," Evan said, following my gaze. One week into a two-week road trip across Newfoundland, we had yet to spot an iceberg. They were out there; each morning, the iceberg-tracking map showed giants drifting to our west. The problem was geography. Newfoundland and Labrador's pleated coastline means a berg 50km away by water could be 400km by road – and this season, they were clustered in the southern bays of Labrador, a region that was, until recently, among the hardest to reach. In a place where the ocean long served as the main highway, roads came late. When Newfoundland joined Canada in 1949, there were just 195km of pavement for a province with more than 29,000km of coastline. The obvious solution was to build roads, with the goal of improving access to jobs, schools and healthcare. But this came at a cost. Building takes time and the initial roadways bypassed many small coastal settlements, leading to the abandonment of more than 300 outport communities. "But a new road can change everything," Keith Pike, the city manager in Red Bay, an outport on Labrador's southern coast told me, after I'd continued my trip west. Just 80km north of the Quebec border and the Newfoundland-Labrador ferry terminal in Blanc-Sablon, Red Bay hugs the edge of the Strait of Belle Isle. Not long ago it also marked the end of the old gravel road; isolation that forced Pike to leave the place his family had called home for generations. But with the recent completion of the Trans-Labrador Highway – known as Expedition 51 for the latitude it follows – he has returned, and is hopeful others might do the same. The 1,200km highway, nearly 25 years and C$1bn in the making, threads across Labrador's sweeping terrain, linking inland towns, distant outports and more than 9,000 years of human history. It's the kind of rugged drive that road-trippers dream of, forming a loop through Quebec, Newfoundland and Labrador, Nova Scotia, New Brunswick and even touching into the US and the French islands of St Pierre and Miquelon. While only a few people are expected to drive the entire circuit, Pike sees the road's greatest legacy in its promise. "People like me are able to come home because of the opportunities it's creating," he said. In simple terms: the places Newfoundlanders and Labradorians call home have proven to be alluring to travellers looking for wild landscapes and meaningful cultural encounters. And along Expedition 51, visitors aren't just welcome, they're needed. It's a place where thoughtful tourism can help sustain places that have endured against the odds. In Indigenous communities, the road is already sparking new ventures. Barbara Young, marketing coordinator for the Newfoundland and Labrador Indigenous Tourism Association, says local entrepreneurs are building businesses rooted in tradition. From guided hikes with Kaumanik Adventure Tours in Port Hope Simpson to Inuit art at Caribou Place in Mary's Harbour, these stops invite travellers to engage with cultures that have thrived here since time immemorial. History, too, is central to Red Bay's story. A major Basque whaling station in the 1500s, the long-abandoned settlement grew out of the whale oil that once lit Europe's lamps. Today, Parks Canada and the townspeople are betting on the new highway drawing more visitors to the Red Bay National Historic Site. They've invested in a new interpretive centre, expanded boardwalks through Saddle Island's archeological sites and improved hikes like the Boney Shore Trail where whale bones still line the coast. More like this:• Canada's remote (but accessible) dark-sky sanctuary• A cutting-edge tourism model in Newfoundland• The only land disputed between the US and Canada As Evan and I chased icebergs, I realised Expedition 51 is also opening more of Iceberg Alley. New operators like Whaler's Quest Ocean Adventures now offer boat tours out of Red Bay, often with a side of traditional music by locals like Pike. It may seem ironic that a seafaring province closely associated with the Titanic – just one of the more than 600 documented ship-iceberg collisions that have claimed more than 3,400 lives over the past two centuries – is embracing iceberg tourism. Back when most communities relied on the cod fishery, the massive bergs that drifted by each spring were deadly navigational hazards. But as coastal populations dwindled, the icy giants offered a glimmer of hope. Twillingate was one of the first to embrace the shift. Straddling two islands linked by a narrow tickle, and just 100km from Gander's airport, Twillingate gained road access in the 1970s. After the cod fishery collapsed in the 1990s, the town began to reinvent itself. Locals transformed old footpaths – once used to reach now-abandoned communities or favourite berry-picking patches – into hiking trails, launched iceberg tours and started businesses like Great Auk Winery, which uses iceberg water in its products. Drawn to the now-famous town, Evan and I continued our daily scan of iceberg-tracking sites. Even though the icebergs drifted stubbornly west, locals helped us build a very Newfoundland bucket list. We were directed to puffin and whale lookouts, tipped off about the perfect fog-free window for visiting the lighthouse, told where to buy fresh-caught lobster, sent to see several root cellars and urged to visit the Beothuk Interpretation Centre to learn about the tragic demise of the Indigenous Beothuk people. On the hiking trails, we reflected on the empty outports and watched for untracked icebergs. "They've given people a reason to come home," an employee at Great Auk Winery told us as we sampled a flight of wines. The bakeapple iceberg wine – infused with golden-orange berries handpicked from nearby bogs – offered a honeyed apricot note. Blended with harvested iceberg water, it showcased how seafaring traditions are being reimagined. We bought a bottle; even if we didn't spot one of the elusive giants, we could still savour the taste of 50,000-year-old water. In a typical year, 700 to 800 icebergs drift through Iceberg Alley; some years, none appear at all. I had nearly given up when I glimpsed my first one at Red Bay. Floating offshore from Expedition 51, the glittering hulk told the story of a snowflake's improbable journey from cloud to glacier to sea to tourist attraction. It had taken thousands of years to get here – but without the new highway, I wouldn't have seen it at all. -- For more Travel stories from the BBC, follow us on Facebook, X and Instagram.


Press and Journal
25-05-2025
- Press and Journal
I tracked down the Ellon hippo - but I've yet to solve the mystery of its origins
Bonnie Aberdeenshire is full of surprises. I discovered yet another one of them this week – the so-called 'Ellon hippo'. I'd been scrolling on my phone when I'd come across a chat on social media about this fabled beast and was determined to find it for myself. The comments I'd read were intriguing – especially those that claimed the hippo was one of the iconic sculptures created by artist Stanley Bonnar in the 1970s to dot throughout the Fife town of Glenrothes. Whatever the truth, I was keen to track down the Ellon version for myself. There are various ways of reaching it, but as the sun was shining, I decided to turn the hunt into a nice wee walk with my year-old Labrador puppy, Dante. Parking by Auchmacoy Mission Hall, we marched down a grassy lane towards the River Ythan. It's a quiet corner of the world – a beautiful, tranquil place, away from traffic, and the perfect spot to spy all sorts of birdlife. Keen to get Dante in for a cooling swim, I headed to the water's edge. Not a good idea. His legs were covered in stinking mud before he'd got near the river, and he looked up at me with disdain. Instead, we shimmied up onto the bridge over the Ythan – the Logie Buchan war memorial bridge. Built in 1935, there are bronze plaques set into either side of the parapet that commemorate locals who lost their lives during the First and Second World Wars. I find it fascinating that before the bridge was constructed, a ferry took people across the river. The remains of the old jetties and pilings can still be seen, and a cottage on the east bank is the former ferryman's house. The views up and down the water are stunning, and the chances are you'll spot a decent amount of birdlife. I saw swans and ducks. Once across the bridge, we came to the small parish church of Logie Buchan and its atmospheric graveyard. This, too, is in a glorious setting, in gently rolling countryside, with fields, lush grazing, trees, and wonderful views across the estuary. Passing through the tiny hamlet of Kirkton of Logie Buchan, I didn't spot a soul, which was a shame as I had hoped to ask someone if they knew the exact whereabouts of the hippo. The road straight ahead, flanked by old drystane dykes and with the gorse in full bloom, appealed, and so I decided to see where it led me. After about half a mile, when the road started to head uphill, I began to doubt myself. It's just as well I carried on, because right at the top of that hill, in a gated woodland enclosure, was the Ellon hippo! I felt as though I'd found the Holy Grail, such was my joy. But I can see how so many people have failed to spot the hippo over the years. A friend told me he had cycled past it for at least a decade – but only set eyes on the beast last year after someone told him of its existence. But the thing is, nobody I've spoken to thus far seems to have an answer as to how the hippo came to be here. One thing I know for sure – after doing a bit of detective work – is that he is not one of Stanley Bonnar's creations. I sent the artist, now 77, an email, and he confirmed that the hippo has nothing to do with him. However, Stanley revealed he was once asked by Kirkcaldy-born sculptor Denis Barnes to 'join him and make more hippos'. Denis, who had installed public artworks in Livingston in the 70s, had set up a 'commercial company' by the time he asked that of Stanley. 'I didn't feel that was my direction, so turned them down,' said Stanley. 'So they made a copy. This may be one of those.' Of course, my next step was to try to contact Denis. As yet, I've had no luck – and so the mystery of the Ellon hippo's origins remains a mystery. If any readers know more than me, please feel free to get in touch. Also on the Logie estate, waiting to be discovered, is an elusive, little-known, but fairly big, 'pyramid'. I'd been told this was near the entrance to Ladymire Equestrian Centre, and drove there in my mission to find it. Alas, I didn't spot this at all. Maybe another time. Since my afternoon spent hunting down strange sculptures, I've been told by a contact that the pyramid was commissioned by a local property entrepreneur as a 'millennium project'. Bizarrely, it's split in two halves. One half is said to represent the old century, and the other represents the new. It's fascinating stuff. There's so much to discover in this wee corner of Aberdeenshire. And you're never too far from Ellon should you need to hunt down coffee and cake after all that exploring.


Daily Record
23-05-2025
- Daily Record
Lanarkshire bus passengers face "significant disruption" on Glasgow journeys
First Bus have warned users of five local services that journey times will be affected by roadworks close to Buchanan bus station Passengers using five bus services between Lanarkshire and Glasgow have been warned to expect 'significant disruption' for the next 18 months due to major roadworks impacting the city centre end of the journey. First Bus has issued the warning to travellers using 19 different routes which start or end at Buchanan bus station, ahead of the installation from this Monday of temporary traffic lights and lane restrictions on North Hanover Street, beside the busy transport hub. The Lanarkshire services highlighted are the company's 255, 263 and 267 services from Hamilton to Glasgow, along with the 240 and X11 respectively starting at Overtown and Newmains and both covering Wishaw and Motherwell. First Bus officials say roadworks impacting the bus station in Glasgow – part of the city's major Avenues project to redesign 16 major streets with features including improved footpaths, cycle lanes, bus routes and landscaping – is 'expected to last for at least 18 months'. Passengers using the affected routes to travel to or from the city centre are being asked to plan journeys in advance and allow extra travel time as 'buses may be caught in traffic due to the works'. The 255 travels between Hamilton, Bothwell and Uddingston and Glasgow, while both the 263 and 267 cover Blantyre, Cambuslang and Rutherglen. The X11 passes through Netherton while the 240 also serves passengers in Craigneuk and Bellshill. A spokesperson for First Bus said: 'We're committed to providing an efficient and reliable service for customers. Like any other road users, our buses are impacted by roadworks and circumstances out with our control. 'We support the end vision Glasgow city council are aiming to achieve with the modernisation of the city through the Avenues project – however, these works will cause significant disruption to bus services throughout the city centre. 'We wanted to issue notice in advance to support customers as far as possible and allow them to plan journeys. Further information can be found via our website, social channels and through our customer services team.' First say their website at will be updated with details on impacted services, while their customer services team can be contacted on 0345 646 0707. And did you know Lanarkshire Live had its own app? Download yours for free here.