It's the smell you notice first.

Or rather the lack of it. Strapping my cycling helmet under my chin, I inhale deeply. Delicious. Living week in, week out, in a flat next to the M8, nothing beats a crisp, clear breath of air.

Having caught the train from Glasgow to Falkirk High, my husband and I make our way from the station to the nearby Union Canal. From here it’s a fairly short bike ride to the Falkirk Wheel, where we spend a good few minutes marvelling at this feat of engineering -- which allows the transfer of boats between the Union Canal and the Forth and Clyde Canal -- before doubling back on ourselves.

Now the journey can begin in earnest. It’s approximately a 12-mile cycle to Linlithgow, one that will take us through echoing, dank tunnels, across glorious aqueducts and along secluded towpaths. The sun glitters on the canal, birds diving in and out of the water to cool off.

Passing through the Rough Castle Tunnel -- a fairly tame teaser for the mighty Falkirk Tunnel which lies just ahead -- the canal weaves its way east. Pedalling at a leisurely pace, I enjoy the cool breeze on my face as the lush, green scenery eases past.

Looming into sight comes the infamous Falkirk Tunnel which, stretching 635 metres, is Scotland’s longest canal tunnel. It’s a cavernous space, and although well lit it’s advisable to have lights or take a torch, even on a sunny day.

Next we pass beneath the Glen Bridge. Better known as the Laughin’ And Greetin’ bridge, the keystone of each arch is engraved with two faces: a crying one facing west and a smiling one facing east. The theory is it symbolises the toil of canal construction workers with the section between here and Falkirk -- with its 11 locks and the cutting of the tunnel -- a tougher project than the section to the east of the bridge.

As the bridge’s laughing face gazes down on us we pedal on, the route offering plenty to see: rabbits bounding about in a field, swans tending their young in a feather-strewn nest, gliding moorhens and a soaring sparrow hawk, its beady eye fixed on distant prey.

Arriving in Polmont, the scenery is as intriguing as it is varied: from the starkness of the young offenders institute to the crumbling ruins of Almond Castle. A long stretch of winding canal follows and it’s impossible not to lose yourself amid the leafy surroundings. A week’s worth of tension begins to ebb from my shoulders.

Unless you want to end up in the drink, it’s prudent to dismount before crossing the cobbled Avon Aqueduct. Spanning an impressive 12 arches where the canal crosses the River Avon, it’s Scotland’s longest and tallest aqueduct.

By now the clouds have thickened, blocking the sunshine. Inevitably the rain comes. It stirs the pollen on the trees and plants, adding a pungent sweetness to the air. Although refreshing at first, a damp, heavy cold starts to penetrate the bones.

Thankfully we’re almost at our destination, the Linlithgow Union Canal Centre, a cluster of colourful, pretty barges moored outside, coming into view.

From here we head along the High Street to The Four Marys for a bowl of the pub’s legendary Cullen skink. It’s sublime, gloriously creamy with large chunks of haddock. My husband plumps for a steak pie with melt-in-the-mouth puff pastry and lashings of gravy.

Suitably fortified, we emerge blinking from the dark interior to find the sun has reappeared. The rain has left a freshness in the air as we potter around the shops on the narrow main street before walking down to the nearby loch. It was here I learned to sail and wind-surf as a youngster and back then it seemed as vast as an ocean. Today there are a few boats out there, a brisk breeze whipping the froth off the water.

On the loch’s shores stands the magnificent Linlithgow Palace which, dating back to the 15th century, was home to the royal Stewarts and is where Mary, Queen of Scots was born in 1542.

Although now a roofless shell, the structure retains a majestic presence from its sprawling Great Hall, where banquets were held, to the stone-carved figures in the royal chapel and the courtyard’s beautiful wedding cake-style fountain.

Speaking of which, I feel the urge for something sweet, so we pop into the So Strawberry Cafe at the foot of the hill from the palace, on the cobbled Mercat Cross. This family-run coffee shop serves an array of homemade baked goods. I choose a brightly coloured cup cake which provides the sugar rush I need to push my bike back up the hill to the train station.

Boarding the train back to Glasgow, we get to revisit large stretches of the route we had traversed only hours before. Strangely, though, it feels like watching an animal in the zoo. Seeing it zip past from behind a glass curtain simply doesn’t do it justice.