The mudlarks helping to preserve Scotland's history

Dumped more than a century ago, now rescued from their muddy graves they form a captivating – and surprisingly lucrative - collection that tells a story of daily life in Scotland as it once was.

Treasure hunter Mark Roberts, 38, has plucked hundreds of fascinating bottles from long lost Victorian rubbish tips – some of them, he says, hidden under just a few inches of soil.

Once brushed down and cleaned, the bottles reveal a host of names that would have been familiar in homes across the land generations ago; everyday items regarded as waste at the time, but which now shine light on days gone by.

But as well as telling a story of life as it was, once spruced up the Victorian junk can fetch soaring prices on auction sites, and earn their finders hard cash from social media uploads and films of the finds.

Mark, a pharmacy technician from Drumchapel in Glasgow, is among a growing number of Scottish ‘mudlarkers’ who scour old maps and archives from around the country seeking out sites of Victorian rubbish dumps which, it transpires, harbour a wealth of long-lost treasures.

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With permission from landowners, he then sets about removing top layers of earth – often uncovering fascinating items just below the surface.

The further he digs down, the more items he finds which are remarkably intact, such as near perfect ginger beer bottles stamped with forgotten names, ornate clay pipes, pots which once contained cleaning materials, foodstuffs – from bone marrow, beer and marmalades to oysters – cherry toothpaste and countless containers of “pure rich cream”.

Of no value to their former owners, today they can fetch surprising sums: such as a rare James Lewis of London seltzer bottle, unearthed from the mud and said to be worth £750.

Among the ginger beer bottles and pottery jars that have emerged from tips in the Glasgow area are many stamped with the name “Cooper & Co”, a luxury grocery shop which once stood at the corner of the city’s Great Western Road and Bank Street.

Cooper & Co described itself as “high class provision merchants and Italian warehousemen”, and stocked items which might have been regarded as exotic for the times, including a revolving coffee roasting machine.

Arrivals of new stocks of “exceptionally fine tea” from China, India and Ceylon would be advertised in papers across the country, while such was demand for Cooper & Co produce that it would go on to open 31 branches throughout Scotland and England, with warehouses in Liverpool and London and more than 2000 employees.

Although once a household name for many Scots, Cooper & Co was eventually taken over in the 1950s by another long-lost name, Fine Fare Group, and the business faded away.

Mark's haul, gathered in just four years of ‘mudlarking’ includes dozens of bottles stamped with the name J. Orr Comrie of Springbank in Glasgow, once a rival to soft drink giant Andrew G. Barr.

The company was dealt a blow when fire ripped through its Garscube Road works in 1914, and while Barr’s drinks famously became one of Scotland’s most familiar names, Comrie’s products faded from sight.

Today a single Comrie & Co ginger beer bottle can fetch around £90 on Etsy.

Mark films his tip digs for his YouTube channel, often showing items slowly emerging from decades of mud and sharing his excitement as he wipes off dirt to reveal details of what they once were.

He says the pandemic and social media has led to a surge in the number of Scottish ‘mudlarkers’ hunting for treasure in Victorian tips, riverbanks and even diving in lochs, and uploading their finds to YouTube, Instagram and TikTok.

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While many are conscientious and seek permission before embarking on their hunts, he fears others may be less observant of unwritten rules surround treasure hunting. “It’s like a game to some people who just want to find bottles to sell,” he says. “I take care to ask permission and cover up a site properly once I’ve finished digging. Some people dig and just leave it.”

Mark says the richest picking grounds are Victorian dumps closed to grand houses, farms and busy spots, like railway stations.

“People didn’t have a lot of rubbish in those days, so they often just dumped things near where they lived. You find Victorian houses with tips on their land, only people with money could afford to have their rubbish taken away.

“Most of what I find is on farm tips, but there are also old quarry tips. They would be back-filled with ash, bottles and rubbish and set on fire, so all that survived would be the bottles.”

Finding items is just part of search, he adds.

“I found my first ginger beer bottle around four years ago and was almost instantly obsessed,” he says. “I wanted to find out more about it, such as where it came from.

“I research the history, I go to through archives and libraries to find out more about the companies – there are so many and most of them no longer exist.”

In the case of Cooper & Co, Mark researched the firm’s family tree and was able to reunite a descendant of the company’s founders with pots he had found bearing the company name.

Other finds he shares with local museums and other collectors, while anything more than 300 years old or which appears to be of significance is flagged up with the national Treasure Trove in Edinburgh.

Mudlarking began in Victorian times, when people would scour beaches and riverbanks in search of discarded items to sell – perhaps unaware that the very objects they were chucking away would become modern treasures.

Today’s mudlarkers dig by hand or use small mechanical tools, often selling items they find on sites like eBay and upcycling them into jewellery or household trinkets for Etsy.

Some, such as Craig and Nicole Lind from Fife, have turned their hobby into a business: they collect sea glass and pottery pieces collected from beaches which they turn into jewellery and sell under the name Scottish Mudlarking.

While mother and daughter Gail and Alex Hildrith, who call themselves Northern Mudlarks, have amassed nearly 90,000 subscribers to their YouTube channel, where they post videos of their digs at a huge Victorian dump site in the shadow of Edinburgh Airport known as ‘The Jungle’.

Their hobby has become a major earner, with hundreds of pounds flowing in from adverts embedded in their videos, Patreon followers and income from items they sell.

Mark says there are likely to be Victorian tips in every Scottish town – with thousands waiting to be discovered and each harbouring the possibility of rich pickings.

“There are collectors out there who will pay £15,000 for a 15th or 16th century onion bottle,” he says, adding that key features to look for are bottles with crocked necks and rolled tops, signs that the glass has been hand-blown.

“These tips are all over Scotland, from the Borders to Falkirk, Glasgow and up to the Highlands,” he adds.

“I’d reckon up to 70 % of old tips haven’t been found – there are probably thousands out there, a lot of them under people’s houses or in their gardens.

“People don’t realise what’s under their feet.”