Last year in December, struggling to think of a post, I decided to pull together and share some of my favourite pictures from the past year; many o them I have not shared before, or have only done briefly in an Instagram story. It struck me that this might be a nice tradition to start.
Throughout the year, wherever I am and no matter how tired I am, taking pictures of the beauty around me keeps me inspired. And so in this post, I would like to share with you MY favourite pictures that I have taken this year, and a bit of why they are special to me. They are, for the most part, entirely unedited except for some cropping.
When I was young and growing up in Massachusetts, every autumn we would go apple picking, and the apple of choice was McIntosh. So, I grew up eating them in pies, applesauce, and of course straight off the tree. They are seldom found in Scotland though, and so when I found these at House of Bruar, I was overjoyed.
We visited House of Bruar on a cold January afternoon, and we left in time to drive home mostly in daylight, with the hilltops frosty. I love winter and this picture reminds me of that lovely day in Perthshire.
St Andrews is one of the most photogenic places on earth, and I used to get up early just to catch the sunrise here. Fortunately, in January, the early part is not required.
We had very little snow this past winter, but on visiting Loch Leven we discovered a dusting had made it inland. I loved this hill half-hidden by cloud.
The winter months are by far the best for night sky, if only because it gets so very dark. Nonetheless, this picture was taken in the middle of an unlit field and shows the rather extreme light pollution here in Fife.
I decided to show off my new camera case patch with this posed picture on my walk along Tentsmuir. Love how it turned out.
Dundee is not always thought of as the prettiest city, but on this day walking from Tayport to the bridge, we caught the river in stillness as the tide turned. I love the reflections.
I have 100s of versions of this view, but this is one of my favourites, with frost just touching the flowering gorse on a grey and silver morning.
Sunrise over a frosty field. Does it get better?
I did this walk every day in lockdown, and it is still the best way to start off any day.
In March we drove up to Ballachulish for a long weekend, and stopped at the Loch Ba viewpoint. The loch is behind me, but this view of the sun fighting through the clouds was just as impressive.
Our favourite snack spot in Glencoe since our first weekend away in 2009. Great coffee and an even better view.
On our first morning, the cold night had left a heavy frost over everything, and there is nothing I love more than white mountains against a crystal blue sky. Also shows our hotel’s excellent location.
Frosty mountains are definitely one of my things…I can’t not take a picture. Just as my other half.
On a clear night, we drove to Loch Achtriochtan in Glencoe to try to get some excellent star pictures. A full moon rising and the busy road made for far too much light pollution, but I like this picture anyway, especially as that isn’t the sun setting behind the hills – that light is just from the moon.
April blossoms, stunning colour contrast.
I spent my childhood playing on this island in Marblehead, long before it was cleared or with a bench to enjoy the view. Still, it brings back so many fond memories to see it.
One of my favourite views in Marblehead, overlapping Colonial houses and rocky gardens. The old town in a nutshell.
Old North Bridge in Concord MA, the location of the shot heard round the world.
Mostly I just love reflections.
May was the month in which I really focussed on my fitness and in making a dent in my Coastal Path plans. The weather cooperated most of the time, but not always, like this rainy day when I walked from Newport to Balmerino. It is Scotland after all. No one would believe me if it was always sunny.
That said, most of my walk WAS sunny. Cellardyke harbour on this Saturday morning was calm and quiet, and just the epitome of the East Neuk.
I love a good flower against the sun picture. Had you noticed?
The walk into Crail is simply stunning, and when I completed this section the poppies were just blooming. The town is in the background, but the stunning red was the subject for this picture.
San Antonio in June. Whose idea was that?
Taken relatively early in the day, this picture shows the heat that would come.
I fell in love with the Riverwalk in, and I have plenty of daytime pictures. But this one shows what is clearly an old building, just as the evening begins. So much promise of the night’s entertainment to be had!
While I was visiting my father in Puerto Rico, we climbed a mountain. We hiked up through the cloudy mist, and never quite came out above it. It doesn’t matter if you get rained on here, and I like the mysterious feel.
Flowers and castle ruins.
I did several more chunks of the Coastal Path in July, and there was no shortage of these small yellow beauties.
I also visited London, where the roses were in full bloom around St Paul’s Cathedral. I can’t miss a rose.
Durham Cathedral and Castle from the train. The sun was setting and the medieval stones glowed orange and yellow. Breath-taking.
Most towns in the East Neuk have small gardens planted in or around a fishing dinghy, like this one. One of the many echoes in this area of New England.
Who doesn’t enjoy a photobomb by a seagull? Well, I sure do.
Sea roses are a special kind of delicate, and remind me of summers on Cape Cod. This picture could be taken on either side of the Atlantic (though it was of course in Fife, near Kinghorn)
It was such a dry summer in Scotland that the leaves started to turn an orange-brown even in late August. Super calm water, and you can just see St Andrews in the distance.
Summer late light. I cannot resist.
One cool evening in early September, four of us trooped out to West Sands to see if we could catch the Aurora. We did.
Plane views are a big thing with the amount of travel I do now. The flight into San Francisco included these fantastic vistas of the mountains of eastern California and western Nevada.
Pure Americana, in the perfectly mid-west town of Columbus, Ohio.
Another plane view!
I have visited and enjoyed many cities, and would happily live in many of them. But none will ever surpass Boston (even with a cloud obscuring downtown).
A misty late September morning – five minutes later this had cleared. Silver and grey again, just beautiful.
To me, this picture is the epitome of Florida: palms, beach grapes, a pool and a hotel. I loved even this small hotel view.
Travelling in Connecticut in October reminded me why New England is famed for its autumn. I’ve even written a post about it. I stopped the car briefly coming out of a parking lot to take this – gorgeous.
Autumn colour in Perthshire. Always gold and orange, even in a dry year like this one.
I absolutely fell in love with this view of the sun rising over Mexico City’s distant mountain barrier. They were never as clear as before the sun rose, and an hour later were obscured by haze.
I was fascinated by these mountains, peeking out of the otherwise civilised centre of Mexico.
My one coastal path walk in November was on a cloudy windy day, with the sun fighting through. I loved this view with crashing grey waves and some blue sky.
A heavy frost on my morning walk. I took so many plant pictures this morning…
Full moon rising – just managed to catch it before it disappeared into the clouds again.
Rising sun in Marblehead on the shortest day of the year, taken across a partially frozen Redd’s Pond. Gorgeous morning to be out and about.
And finally, to wrap up…
This is my absolute favourite picture I took all year; I’ve shared it before, but I want to share it again – the snow, the light through the clouds, the still loch. And the memories it evokes, of a lovely weekend away hiking and enjoying late winter in the Highlands.
Loch Leven and Glencoe, Scottish Highlands
I hope you have enjoyed this photographic trip through my year! Have you checked out my online shop yet?
Finally after a long break, I determined last week that I would return to my Fife Coastal Path endeavour. The last month or so of travel has meant that my efforts to maintain fitness levels dragged a bit, and so I selected a portion of the walk that was not too long but still tested me a bit: starting at the Fairmont Hotel and walking through St Andrews to the Old Course Hotel, where I started my walk to Guardbridge many months ago. The first two miles are traditional Fife Coastal Path: rising and falling along the edge of the coastline with dramatic stretches of rocky shore and beaches. Then, the last mile and a bit is in St Andrews, along East Sands, up the Scores, and past the famous Old Course. This is a really pleasant walk, but the out of town section does require some stamina and sturdy shoes.
As would be expected in November, the morning was cool (8℃/46℉) with a cold wind and mostly cloudy with patches of blue sky. I wore my raincoat mostly as a windbreaker but also to guarantee against any stray rain showers – fortunately only needed for the wind. The bus trip was a short one – about 10 minutes – on the trusty 95 from St Andrews, and the stop is right on the road outside the entrance to the Fairmont estate. Fortunately there is a well-kept path running from the bus stop and along the access road up to the hotel. It is a gentle decline, allowing for a view over the North Sea as well as up to the hotel building, across the golf course.
I wasn’t 100% confident as to the route to actually get to the Coastal Path, but I knew that the walk from the hotel into town was done by guests, and so I figured it must be possible. There was no question that I was not there for the golf, as most others were – my attire was a bit different from the slick sporting outfits.
It took me about fifteen minutes from the road to wind towards the hotel the past, and down to the clubhouse for the Torrance. The views across the courses are beautiful even on an overcast day, and the outline of St Andrews is very clear; I really must come back here in the sun! This is clear evidence as to why the Fairmont used to be called the St Andrews Bay Hotel.
Distant St Andrews – with a powerful zoom lens
To get my bearings, I chose to walk down below the clubhouse and past the delivery parking, where I realised that I needed to backtrack slightly to an access road onto the course. From there, I turned right through a break in a stone wall and it was an easy walk to the second wall, dividing the course from the Coastal Path. I used a wooden ladder to scale the wall, though I think there was a break a bit further up for anyone less inclined to climb.
Finally at the starting point, I set my Fitbit to record and started on my way, enjoying immediately the return to a cliffside muddy track, along a stone wall, with waves crashing below. There were a few occasions where my eyes filled with water due to the wind, and I did have to wear my hideous winter hat, but I was warm enough once I got moving.
From here, the path eventually goes down some stone steps and across a bridge over a burn, after which it curves to the right and descends quite sharply towards the beach level. While my boots were not as comfortable as they once were, I was glad to have them here where the recent rain has made the small rivulets into rushing burns and even the grassy areas into mud.
The coastal views are great here in both directions, though the wind is definitely a force to be reckoned with – as ever in Scotland, layers are key. I spend a great deal of time at work explaining that it seldom gets as cold in Scotland as it does in parts of the US, but the wind is biting so it can feel much colder than it is. This was one of those days.
As the path descends it essentially passes through a hedgerow, and you can see the cliffs above you, mostly covered with plants though there are the occasional dramatic rocky outcroppings and circling birds. On the beach level, you can enjoy crashing waves, and ahead is the shape of the Rock and Spindle.
It was about here that I passed a couple who were clearly familiar with the path, and who observed that I had about 45 minutes until high tide, with a gentle warning in their tone.
Yes, I had once again forgotten to check the tide, though to be honest it was because I did not think it was an issue on this section. My error, clearly, and while I assured the couple that I would be fine, I decided that it was time to hustle a bit. So rather than pausing and taking many wave pictures (as I was tempted to do), I crossed the rocky beach and identified relatively quickly where my potential problem lay.
Specifically, it lay right about here, where the waves stretched inland along a rocky edge, threatening to very quickly cut me off from the path ahead. Like many of these small beaches, this cove was backed by a rock cliff and, as the sign clearly told me, if the tide was too high I would have no choice but to wait – there was no high tide route.
So, onwards I scrambled, and found myself looking at a rock face about 4 feet high with one foothold that was a bit higher than I thought my right leg might go. There is no picture, as I realised I did not have time to waste. So it wasn’t graceful or smooth, but I managed to get up the rocks and keep my feet dry – just barely. I probably had another 5 minutes before I would have had to stop. Good timing, then.
Beyond this pinch point, the rocky shore continued for another few minutes before I was able to rejoin the smoother path, and pass the sign in the photo above. I swear next time I will check more carefully.
Side note, I can see why Geology and Earth Science classes from the University would come out here for outings – there is a huge range of fascinating rock formations even for someone who knows nothing about them, and excellent examples of the ocean carving through stone over time.
Ahead, in particular, is the Rock and Spindle, a famous formation that has been widely studied and photographed. According to some brief reading I did, the three stacks are made primarily of solidified volcanic ash, the remains of an ancient submarine volcano.
As I approached I was feeling uncertain that the sun would be helpful and actually break through the clouds, then as the path curved around to follow the shoreline, spectacularly the sun prevailed and provided some excellent contrast for my pictures.
A few words of caution if you are approaching from the direction I did – don’t get too caught up looking at the view, as the path here is crossed several times by burns. The rocks and grass are slippery and often wet, so it would be all too easy to fall.
There is also, I should note, a route above the rock formation which offers great views across the golf course and of the Castle Course clubhouse; Dad and I took this path when we walked out here many years ago (and of course I cannot find those pictures for reference). Alternatively, walkers can get down to the beach here to get closer to the rocks, but I was ready to make some progress and so passed through a wonky gate and continued on my way.
The path here becomes the more standard grassy path, and as I approached St Andrews I started to doubt whether the predicted sunshine would overcome what seemed to be pretty steady clouds. The overcast sky did not prevent me from taking plenty of different views of the town as I approached, of course – here are a few. Do I have sunny versions of these? Almost certainly. But there is something about this view of town that is impossible to resist.
After ambling along at a good pace, enjoying being at the water level and the crashing waves, I realised that the cove I was in was quickly reaching its end, and there ahead of me was one of the Fife Coastal Path’s infamous – in my mind – stone staircases. The steps themselves are generally flat-ish rocks that have been layered into the hillside, and often wind back and forth as they climb steadily upwards. This is one of the longer sets that I have come across, and it definitely tested my endurance, which has declined since the summer. The view is of course excellent particularly if you have to stop and catch your breath.
Once you make it to the top, however, the path is relatively level for some time, with only gentle ups and downs. The crest of the next hill provides a spectacular view over the bay and town – it is THE view, the one photographers will climb up here to capture. Even without sun, it is impressive. That said, as I made my way along the clifftop, the sun did make an appearance, highlighting the lighter stone of the cathedral ruins and harbour, bright against the turbulent waters of the bay.
The path here is wider and more regularly-used, with joggers and weekend walkers more common. It is easy to get distracted by the view on one side, while on the other the golf course rolls into the distance until it comes to an end at a line of tall pine trees. This marks the boundary between the Castle Course and St Andrews Holiday park, a large caravan site at the edge of town. Passing through a metal gate, you will notice a narrow path heading up to the road, so in theory you could begin a walk here as well, or do a loop up from town and back along the coast.
St Andrews and the bay
The view is just incredible, as gradually you move closer and closer to East Sands. Then in no time at all you are descending once more, along the edge of the caravan estate on a relatively steep set of stairs. There is a viewpoint off to the right, and then the path continues towards the beach.
One last gentle hill leads down off of the Coastal Path proper and onto the walk along East Sands, the wide open beach of St Andrews edged by the cliff on one end and the pier on the other.
just because…
Those of us who have lived in St Andrews for any length of time will tell you that the weather there is different, golden in a way that cannot be matched anywhere in Scotland. It might be a blizzard in Cupar, raining in Guardbridge, but it is sunny in St Andrews. Not always, of course, but more often than not the town enjoys its own pocket of good weather, and this day was no exception.
As I passed this slightly tattered Saltire at the end of the beach, the sun fought its way through the last of the clouds, and the day opened up into beautiful sunshine. Was it sunny at the Fairmont? Who was to say.
East Sands is always busy with walkers, dogs, swimmers, surfers, and sailors depending on the weather, and today was no different. Even in the cold weather and even colder water there were people out in wetsuits. And, some brave souls just in bathing suits, though I learned later that they were dashing up the beach to the newly-built sauna. This is the beach where students take part in the famous May Dip, and is a spectacular place for sunrise, as well as to catch the Northern Lights if you are lucky. The East Sands walk takes you past the University nursery, the East Sands Leisure Centre (town pool), the Scottish Oceans Institute and the famous Toastie Shack, perfect for a beach snack.
The edge of East Sands marks the start of the portion of the Coastal Path that I know like the back of my hand, have walked 100s of times over the years and love. But oddly, I was not confident as to the actual route of the path. My map told me to turn left at the Toastie shack, but the signs told me to continue strait.
As the straight-ahead route was arguably prettier, leading along the beach and over the harbour gate, I chose to follow the signs. Here, the path goes through the play park and along the edge of the beach, allowing for a great vista across the water and up to the Fairmont.
On the other side is a wide grassy bank that leads over to where the Kinness Burn enters the harbour. I wandered over to take a quick picture, but it is worth warning that this stretch of grass is full of holes, dips and – annoyingly – the occasional dog dropping, so best to keep looking down. Soon the path curves around to the left and down a short hill towards the harbour. Cross at the harbour gates and then swing right either in front of or behind the line of buildings. Officially, the path goes behind, but I don’t think it matters greatly. This is one of the most photographed parts of St Andrews, with the colourful buildings and the old harbour, and the entrance to the famous St Andrews pier.
If you have the time, I recommend a detour out to the end of the pier, as the view back is phenomenal. The pier had been closed for some time due to damage sustained during a storm in November 2023 – it is great to see it back open and so many people enjoying the walk. As often happens on a sunny day after a few of rain, the town was busy with students, visitors and locals all out enjoying the day.
Side note, I have several times on these walks had the weather improve as the day goes on, and wonder if I shouldn’t wait until later in the day to get going. But instead, I just keep heading out as early on a Saturday as I can manage. Maybe that will change as the winter closes in, but probably not.
Whether you detour out the pier or not, you have two choices for climbing back up to cliff-top level; the first is a set of stairs, and the second is a hill so steep that cyclists are required to walk their bikes up or down. I opted for the hill, and either way you arrive at a great viewpoint over the town. There are the ruins here of St Mary on the Rock – a church outline – and several cannon aimed out to sea. The highlight is of course the view of the cathedral wall and remaining towers straight ahead.
The path is wide, with a stone wall along the edge of the cliff, though if you look down you will see familiar rocky coastline and birds nesting or bobbing in the water. Ahead there are two options, and neither is marked though I think the obvious choice is to hug the coastline and take the right-hand fork. The left leads you along the cathedral wall and towards North Street.
The fork I recommend is also the one that takes walkers along one of my most favourite stretches of path in St Andrews, and possibly all of Scotland: up a gentle hill between the cathedral and the castle, one of the best viewpoints in the area. You can see into the cathedral grounds, down to the pier, out to sea, and of course along the coast to the castle and distant West Sands. It is a place that is almost meditative for me – I have walked it more times than I would hope to count, even now seldom stopping to take pictures and only enjoying the view. A scattering of sea roses makes it the perfect spot in summer, and there are two benches ideally placed to rest and enjoy. Definitely take a few moments to do so, if you can.
St Andrews Castle is of course directly ahead, its outline something I imagine I could draw with my eyes closed. I cannot pass without a picture, so on this occasion I included the Coastal Path sign – in one of them.
Once past the castle, the route continues along the Scores, one of the most beautiful streets in St Andrews and one of the most expensive in Scotland. The University owns a good portion of the buildings and you will pass, amongst others: the Schools of English, Economics, Philosophy, Classics, International Relations and History, the University Museum, St Salvator’s Hall and the back of St Salvator’s Quad, the Principal’s House, and the Admissions office. The buildings in between which are privately owned are large, some very old and some very new, all with phenomenal views. The Scores is lined at varying points by stone walls, and you can choose to walk on either side, though I always feel that the left going away from the castle is ever so slightly nicer. It is wider, and you do have to look out that you do not wander into the cycle lane.
About half way along on the left, Butts Wynd cuts up towards North Street, offering a stunning view of St Salvator’s Chapel.
It may be tempting to nip up to the quad and take a few pictures, so by all means do so here if this is your one trip through St Andrews. For golf enthusiasts, the best is yet to come.
Continuing along the Scores, you will pass the Catholic Church, and ahead on the corner of Murray Park is what used to be the Russell Hotel, which was one of our favourite spots in town for excellent Scottish food. The couple who owned it eventually retired and the majority of the structure was torn down, so that all that remained was the listed frontispiece. As of writing, it is enshrouded in scaffolding and being rebuilt into what I understand will be flats.
At this point I recommend crossing the street and continuing roughly straight ahead. Along the cliff you will find a tall wrought iron fence with warning signs as to the sheer drop on the other side – this is due at least in part to the unfortunate tendency for students to wish to climb the fence, which has devastatingly led to fatal injury in the past.
Avoid the temptation to turn right down the steps toward the Aquarium, and while there is no clear signage continue straight towards the towering Martyrs’ Monument, which was put in place to commemorate those killed during the Reformation. Beyond the Monument is the Royal and Ancient Golf Club of St Andrews and the famous Old Course. To the left, the buildings of the Scores including what used to be the Scores Hotel but is now Seton House, and the towering red Hamilton Grand, that incredible framing building to all pictures of the 18th hole. When I was a student it was still student housing, though has in intervening years been re-build into luxury condos.
Continue down the hill and cross the road, continuing up Golf Place towards North Street – do not head toward the beach, though there are public toilets in that direction should they be needed.
Continue to follow the golf course by turning right along the Links, which is a narrow road that runs between the Old Course and the buildings that include the famous Auchterlonies Golf Shop, the Rusacks Hotel, and the New Golf Club. There are regular signs reminding you of this, but golf is being played year-round, so pay attention for stray shots!
As you walk along the course, you will get some great views towards the Swilcan Bridge – where all golf competition winners have their pictures taken, as do many tourists.
Follow the white fence when it curves around the end of the buildings and keep moving towards the hotel, straight ahead through the car park. In only a few minutes, you arrive at the entrance to the hotel grounds, where there is a clear sign to mark the end of this section.
Overall, a comfortable walk with a few spots to challenge you and a few spots to just enjoy the view. The section through St Andrews is beautiful, but I still think I prefer the out in the wild paths such as the one from Crail to Cambo – for hiking, in any case.
A small calamity of this walk was the realisation that my walking boots, purchased in the spring, just aren’t cutting it anymore. They have worn down and are encouraging my ankles to roll in even more than they do naturally, so I am on the lookout for a replacement. Good thing Christmas is coming, as I hope I can request a new pair! Any recommendations on brand would be welcome.
Autumn and winter compete as my favourite seasons of the year, both for photography and life in general. There are few things that make me happier than a snowstorm and snow scape (see my post about Marblehead in snow). That said, the colours of autumn are just stunning, be they orange, red, gold, or anything in between. This year in particular, I had two trips that reminded me of the spectacular nature of autumn on both sides of the Atlantic; and I am lucky enough to call both regions home – or very close to it.
As I have written about before, Pitlochry is a special place for us, and one to which we return regularly. Our first weekend away in November many years ago allowed us to catch the very end of the autumn colour, but this year we chose to take a day trip on my weekend at home, and we caught some gorgeous golds and yellows (despite the often overcast weather). My favourite point on the drive, which I have mentioned before, is just as you turn a corner on the A9, and on this trip we could see just the start of the colour.
In Pitlochry, we parked at the edge of town and meandered our way through the crowds (yes, even a small town in Perthshire has crowds), then down to Loch Faskally and the famous Pitlochry dam, where there is a fish ladder and excellent views in both directions. We crossed the dam and walked a short way around the loch, where we could look back on the trees still in sunshine.
The standard walking loop in Pitlochry goes across the dam and then down the far side of the river, past the Festival Theatre. This theatre reminds me very much of the North Shore Music Theatre which I visited frequently while growing up, for its eclectic shows and unique nature. I have never actually attended a show here, but some day soon…
Not far beyond the theatre, the street passes by some stone cottages on one side and an inn on the other, then walkers must pay close attention not to miss the narrow entrance to the turn-off across the pedestrian suspension bridge. From this bridge, the view looking back towards the dam and the river is fantastic.
Once across the bridge, walkers can continue up through the town or take a sharp left to follow the riverbank back towards the dam and its visitor centre. We chose this route as there were several families ahead of us moving at the pace of the accompanying toddlers, and we wished to go back up to the overlook of the loch, below. Side note, the visitor center is relatively new (opened less than 10 years ago), and offers a great café, small gift shop, and clean restrooms.
The sun on this day just would not cooperate and show off the yellows and oranges the way I wanted, but I think you can get a hint of what we saw.
After a quick lunch in Pitlochry, we headed back to the car to drive up to Killiecrankie, which is only a few miles north.
The walk here is famous for stunning colour, but apparently everyone else had heard that too – there was not a place to park, and so we drove a bit further north to Blair Atholl. Immediately upon crossing the bridge into the town, there is a small car park where we stopped and found a walk along the riverbank.
Finally, here the sun came out in honest and I was able to capture a bit more of what we saw in person, brightness that really isn’t as visible in the above, overcast pictures.
We thought very briefly about going all the way to House of Bruar, but decided it would likely be even busier than Pitlochry, so not appealing. The drive home boasted one more impressive view, looking up at Kinnoull Hill near Perth, from the A9. There was a hint of what once had been (or may be on a less dry autumn).
The rumour on TV was that this year had been so dry, that all of the famous New England colour would be muted. It may be that further north this was the case, but on my drive from Boston to Greenwich, CT and back again, I saw some of the most amazing colour I can remember in many years. Now, granted, this was only my second autumn visit to New England in 20 years, but I found myself in awe over the beauty and vivacity of the leaves. There was one colour, which I do not seem to have managed to capture, that was an almost fluorescent pink-orange that you would not be blamed for thinking could not appear in nature – I was desperate to capture this colour, but it seemed only to exist on the side of the highway, where I could not stop. Nonetheless, I managed a few lovely views and took some short breaks while driving to stretch out my back and enjoy the scenery.
My first stop was at a rest area heading south, about halfway between Sturbridge, Massachusetts and Hartford, Connecticut. I did not expect it, but the small information cabin included a back porch looking over the river below, lined by some stunning maples.
The next morning I found myself favoured by traffic and so 40 minutes early for an appointment, making it possible for me to take a short detour down a tree-lined road to a pond. The reflection of the trees on the calm water was stunning, and there was a small brook meandering past the road.
My final day in Connecticut was dominated by the long drive from New Canaan to Marblehead, through downtown Boston as going through Salem is not an option in October (as I was reminded frequently). This was looking to be around 4 hours, so I planned to stop twice along the way – my back was starting to show the wear and tear of a busy few weeks in the car.
My second and final stop was just outside Sturbridge, Massachusetts, where there was a short mile-long walk around a pond – the perfect opportunity to stretch legs/back, and take a walk in the woods. Sure enough, while once again I was stymied in finding many bright colours, I found the golden hues everywhere, and it was a beautiful afternoon.
The light shining through the yellow trees against white birch bark reminded me of a scene in House of Flying Daggers, a film known for its imagery perhaps more than its story.
I am forever grateful to myself for taking this interlude, as what should have been two more hours in the car turned into three as I hit the Friday afternoon traffic through Boston. That was a long drive.
I am forever grateful, though, for a job that allows me to experience this kind of journey at a time of year when I could not visit for so long. I hope that I may be back next year.
Finally, while this visit to Dunkeld did not take place this year, I have been wanting to post these pictures for some time and was looking for the right time. Several years ago, as I recovered from my second bout of Covid, the other half suggested a day trip as I was no longer testing positive and had been confined to the house for two weeks. Dunkeld is a beautiful village in Perthshire – one of many – even closer than Pitlochry, boasting a medieval cathedral and some lovely homes.
On the day in question, we arrived just after lunch and walked through the village to the cathedral, then down to the river where you can walk along the bank back towards the main bridge.
While it was later in the season, there was still a touch of yellow and gold, particularly in what I think are beech trees. As we approached the bridge, the sun was glinting off the river between the mostly-empty branches of the trees, and I took about 10 pictures of the leaves. These are the better ones.
The day was growing clearer, and so we climbed up to the bridge and across, to take in the view from both sides. In one direction is the village, spread along the riverbank and the hills.
In the other direction is the river and – just visible through the trees – the tower of the cathedral. Covid exhaustion meant that I was not really up for a long walk, and so we headed back towards the car via a coffee shop on the main street.
On the day we visited, there was a perfect Scottish mist hanging on the treetops, though the hints of red and orange are still visible between the green pines.
This is one of my favourite pictures of Dunkeld, and the grassy area you can just see on the left side is where the cathedral grounds meet the river.
There is nothing particularly thought-inducing about this post, but I wanted to share my appreciation for autumn in both of the places I have lived. New England colour is world-famous, and deservedly so, but Scotland – along with many other countries – produces its own autumnal glory. It may not be as dramatic, but it is beautiful.
As anyone who read my September Stories post may be aware, I was lucky enough recently to visit the San Francisco Bay area for work. I had one day off while I was there, and I was determined to visit Muir Woods, which I recalled as the absolute stand-out of a family trip to San Francisco in 1995 – so yeah, it’s been a while.
What I was not excited about was the drive – winding narrow roads, steep drop-offs, and lots of traffic. So, I did some investigating and discovered that the there was a shuttle that picks up travellers at Larkspur Landing Ferry Terminal, north of the city (and quite close to the infamous San Quentin prison!). There is plenty of parking, and it was a relatively easy drive on a Saturday morning. I did have to book my tickets both to and from the park in advance, but they provided recommendations on timing, and parking at the park is bookable in advance, too (it is in fact required that you do so).
This option is highly recommended – the coach is very comfortable and was quiet when I arrived. I was told that it was off-season so I could board an earlier bus than I had booked (I am never not early, unless I am really late), and while the nearby restrooms were actually port-a-potties, they were surprisingly clean.
As we started off, I enjoyed just staring out the window and watching the communities pass by as we wound up into the mountains – very quickly I was more than a little relieved not to have to manage the curves. I can do these in Scotland, in my own car, but this was a bit different. Plus it meant I could actually enjoy the drive, and the views. I am always impressed, in California, how housing is constructed absolutely everywhere, no matter how steep the hill. The neighbourhoods we wound through on our way to Muir Woods included some truly spectacular homes with large yards around them, and I saw more than a few enviable tree houses.
After about 30 minutes, we arrived at the park, and I realised that though the shuttle was quiet, the park was not. I know that it was not high season yet there was definitely a good number of people on the paths, and this was one of the reasons I eventually deviated from my original plan to stick to the three bridges. But I get ahead of myself (so unlike me).
The weather as we piled out of the coach was cloudy, with the all-pervasive Bay Area fog sitting at the tree-tops, casting the highest branches with a grey tinge. The coach ticket included entrance to the park, where I received a map of the trails – I took a short moment to peruse before heading through the main gateway.
I had decided, due to the weather, that I would not do the ‘long’ loop, just walk out to Bridge 3 before coming back; the Medium loop goes up one side of the river and down the other, which is what the majority of visitors seemed to be doing, and there are several bridges that you can cross-cross on your way. I intended to take a side-trip up through Cathedral Grove, but then return on the yellow trail.
Trails of Muir Woods, scanned from the leaflet I received upon arrival
I started off by crossing Bridge 1 but soon found myself walking against the main traffic, with almost everyone else coming back towards the entrance. So, at Bridge 2 I crossed back over to join the more socially accepted direction (not something I would normally bother about, but some of the wooden paths were narrow and I was tired of getting annoyed looks).
It is a beautiful walking route, with some fallen trees that show the decades and centuries of rings, glimpses of the river, and a forest floor carpeted in mosses, saplings, and clover.
It took me less time than I had imagined to reach Bridge 3, and enter Cathedral Grove, which the sign stated was set aside as:
A quiet refuge to protect its natural soundscape in an incredibly noisy world. The soundscape is vital to animals for hunting and foraging, courtship and mating, nurturing young, and avoiding predators. By walking quietly, we experience the natural sounds of a living, ancient forest.
I have to admit to finding the other visitors a little less considerate of the soundscape than I would have liked, but it is almost to be expected when visitors were so many. The experience of walking through Cathedral Grove, silent or not, was extraordinary. At every turn I found myself wanting to capture a new view, even if it was often difficult to avoid other visitors. In the video at the end of this post I made an effort not to record other people, which meant many of the clips are shorter than I would have liked.
Within Cathedral Grove is a plaque memorialising the 1945 delegation from around the world that met in San Francisco to establish the United Nations. They visited Muir Woods on 19 May of that year to honour the memory of President Franklin Roosevelt, who had recently passed away. President Roosevelt was a strong supporter of national parks, good forestry practices and the sustainable development of natural resources, as tools to maintain lasting peace around the world, particularly after the destruction wrought by World War II.
Moving out of Cathedral Grove as I approached Bridge 4, it seemed a natural choice not to turn back but to extend my walk by heading up the Hillside trail. The sun was beginning to come out, burning through the fog and filtering down through the branches to create bright patches of green. The Hillside path, which started off with a steep rise away from the river, eventually turned to run parallel the lower path, weaving in and out of the hills with a few gentle ups and downs.
Beyond the first few hundred feet of incline it was not a particularly difficult trail, and was absolutely beautiful. It also allowed me the opporunity to be, on occasion, alone with the trees – a special kind of peace and quiet.
This was absolutely the best way to enjoy the forest, and after in time descending back to the river level, I took a short detour back up through Cathedral grove – to catch it in the sunlight. Finally, I returned to the ‘far’ side of the river to make sure I got the famous Muir Woods picture, inside a redwood. I had tried a few selfies along the way though none worked particularly well, and I finally gave in to request help from a very kind couple, for whom I reciprocated a picture.
There are a few spots along the Hillside trail and other walking paths where you can get a picture inside a redwood, but this was the one that was least busy – at some there were queues of groups waiting for pictures. It was also very close to the Bicentennial tree, which – as it is likely impossible to read the sign – was commemorated in 1976 as having begun its life 200 years before. ‘As this redwood tree began its life, across the continent, a revolution occurred which transformed 13 colonies into the United States of America’.
A tree as old as the country, a tribute to the success of both, really. And quite phenomenally tall…check out the video below to see it in all its glory.
I had walked speedily enough that I reached the café and gift shop a bit ahead of the lunch rush, and was so happy to find a massive turkey sandwich and iced tea to enjoy. As there was no phone service in the park (I think I got a bar or two at the café but nothing useful), I read my book while I ate, then indulged myself in a long – and costly – browse through the gift shop. I particularly enjoyed a set of carved wooden figures of bears and trees, several of which came home with me as gifts. Also some beautiful artistic postcards of the park which I could not bring myself to actually send. The shop here is expectedly over-priced, but for a trip like this I really did not care and was willing to go a bit overboard – who knew if or when I might return?
By the time I had finished lunch and my browsing I decided it was time to head back towards the shuttle, and I was lucky enough to wait only about 10 minutes for the next one. Again, I also managed to get on an earlier shuttle than I had scheduled and so arrived back at my car by about 1pm. It was a glorious sunny day and I hoped to be able to get a view of the Golden Gate Bridge on my drive south, but the car parks were so busy that I had to give up.
As I drove back to my hotel, I could not help but feel envious of the more ‘local’ people who were visiting Muir Woods, clearly there not as tourists but for exercise – there were joggers, more intense distance hikers, fitness groups, and walkers. While there are apparently even more impressive redwood forests furhter up the coast, I was so happy to be able to visit Muir Woods again, putting new memories to those echoed by an old magnet on my mum’s fridge from the 1995 trip. Yes, I could have spent the day exploring the city, but for me, the woods were the right choice. They usually are.
Hence my new laptop sticker:
As a side note, I was sorry to see, upon checking the website while writing this post, that Muir Woods has been closed as of 21 October 2025 due to the lapse in funding caused by the government shutdown. It is a sad thought that people might be missing their once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to explore this beautiful National Monument.
As I have written about before about my affection for the area around Aberfeldy and Kenmore, and so it will come as no surprise that, during an unexpected long weekend, we decided to book two nights at Moness Resort just above Aberfeldy. We didn’t plan much, but discovered the Dùn Hill walk as an option that looked ideal for our purposes – not too long, and in walking distance from our accommodation. Though the weather was a bit disappointing – overcast for the whole day – it was not actually wet, and so after a full Scottish breakfast (well almost full, I skipped the black pudding, but still a requirement when eating breakfast away from home), we headed out.
For those familiar with Aberfeldy, the Dùn Hill is above the Birks walk, and starts by heading up a farm track between some trees and a field full of sheep. ‘Up’ is a good word to use, as ‘up’ was very much the theme of the walk; while not particularly long – 3 miles round trip – this path is a pretty constant uphill, and at times quite steep. We had not intended on vigorous exercise (as the other half reminded me several times), but we pushed on in any case.
As with many walks we do in Scotland, we were using a page from Walkhighlands to guide us on the way, and while I generally find their route maps to be very useful, the instructions are on occasion a bit vague. Fortunately, there is really only one option for this walk.
The road climbs steadily and winds around to the right in time, offering what appears to be a choice to be made between a higher and lower road. In fact, the low road is a private drive, leading to an impressive large house and outbuildings.
Passing this fork, the trail opens up so that the views over the fields and hills are visible – at least climbing quickly means the vistas are also fast to appear! Unfortunately our view was marred slightly by the weather, meaning that pictures do not tend to show the glory of the area.
Perhaps five minutes beyond the fork, walkers tired of a dirt road and having to look out for the infrequent traffic will be delighted to notice a sign pointing up the hill. This is roughly the half-way point of the walk.
From here, the path becomes a bit more typical for mountain walking – alternately rocky, grassy, and climbing through fields and trees. In relatively little time, the shape of an abandoned white cottage appears, nestled amongst some trees and with a walled yard. Almost covered by the foliage, this house reminded me a touch of something Bob Ross would paint – an abandoned spot in the woods, mostly overgrown (see below). But with a great view over the town.
This was where we got a bit lost, as while our instructions said ‘go through a forest gate’, we could not immediately see the way to the gate. So, we thought perhaps it was a bit further along the meadow, and that is the way we headed.
It was uneven, with deep grass and rough to walk on, no markings or discernible gates in the distance. After a few minutes of trudging along, we realised that there was a dog walker behind us who could only have come through the gate we had seen. Clearly, we had gone the wrong way. While the view from the meadow was pleasant, it was not going to take us where we wanted to go.
So, we retraced our steps and discovered, mostly covered by high weeds, a sign pointing towards the gate. The faintest remnants of a trail was evident, and so we bivouacked towards the gate, passed through and discovered a narrow forest path – clearly the correct way.
The forest path was pleasant, winding through pines and larch (I think?), and the dry summer plaguing Scotland was a touch less evident here. Yes, it has been a very dry summer – Fife is at near drought conditions as is a large portion of the UK. The gorgeous weather I have experienced while hiking the Fife Coastal Path was unfortunately not good for the overall health of the countryside. Rain is very much in need! Despite all stereotypes of Scotland…
This is the kind of hiking trail I love the most – well-kept and easy to follow, winding through forests that smell like the pine I used to play under when I was young. Occasionally there would be a break in the trees where a hillside meadow met the tree line, but we saw no one else and very little sign of civilisation for most of the remainder of the climb.
Then, suddenly, there were signs that up ahead the trees were thinning, and we reached the clearing at the top of the hill – wide open, grassy, with large patches of beautiful purple heather.
While it is not really visible to untrained eyes like ours, this clearing is the remnant of an Iron Age hill fort, the Dùn. Scientific equipment and archaeologists can identify the rings and gaps where entrances may have been, but for us it was just a lovely peaceful clearing where we could sit for a while, have a snack and some water, and enjoy the quiet. Well, quiet except for a sheep in a nearby field that was baa-ing with a gusto.
The views were unfortunately marred by the low cloud that made the distance hazy, but there was enough of a vista to make one imagine how impressive it could be on a clear, sunny day.
And of course, there is a rock cairn marking the top of the hill; I realise how fortunate we were to be hiking at a time when the heather was in bloom, as it really did add some spectacular colour to an otherwise mostly grey and green landscape. I could have sat quite happily for hours watching the bees, enjoying the many different shades of purple from a soft lavender to bright almost fluorescent magenta – I also found myself humming ‘Heather on the Hill’ from Brigadoon, and had it stuck in my head for hours after.
However, despite a hearty breakfast and a few hiking snacks, we hadn’t really provisioned ourselves for a long time away, and so we eventually headed back to the break in the trees and began the meander back down towards Aberfeldy. We have reached that age – as I am sure I have mentioned – where down can be harder than up, and this was definitely the case once we left the forest path and re-joined the road. Small pebbles and stones combined with dust made for a slippery descent, and almost as slow as the climb. But, we did enjoy the views a bit more heading down and I can see how this could be even more lovely with autumn colours.
While not a particularly long walk, like its sister walk at the Birks of Aberfeldy, the Dùn hill is unexpectedly steep and requires a bit more stamina than originally expected. One review of the walk did mention this, though one we did not read until later; as the other half pointed out, it is worth observing how far a walk ascends in height to make sure you are prepared for the climb. We weren’t, but we made up for it with an excellent dinner that evening at a relatively new place in Aberfeldy, the Inti lounge. Fortunately, we had reserved a table as it was packed by 6.30pm – food and drink all fantastic! In particular, the best whisky peppercorn sauce we had ever had (and this from the other half who is serious about his peppercorn sauce) and a delicious play on a traditional cocktail, the Highland Iced Tea, made with whisky and Irn Bru.
I would definitely be up for trying this walk again in better weather, but also forewarned about the climb. There are plenty of walks up mountains and hills in the area that are not quite so steep, and take a longer trail up that allow for a bit of flat along with the up. Nonetheless, this is a lovely peaceful walk in the woods and an equally serene, history-filled clearing at the top – and perfect if you are staying in Aberfeldy and do not want to drive!
Whew, this was a long one. I knew it would be, and I was excited to give it a go, but I think I mis-calculated the mileage. Nonetheless, I managed, and it was a good challenge for me as well as a nice stretch of the coast.
The morning started with some overcast and the hopeful promise of blue sky by the middle of the day.
My starting point was Aberdour, famous for its castle which I have visited in the past, but chose not to stop on this occasion due to the clouds. It is definitely on the list for a re-visit soon.
Aberdour is best reached by train, from the north requiring a short stop in Kirkcaldy on the way; I boarded in Leuchars and it was an easy, quiet trip. The station in Aberdour is beautiful – Victorian, with decorative metal scroll work and beds of flowers in and around the building.
From the station I headed through the car park to the main road, where there was a short half block before a turn down Shore Road. I counted the start of my walk from this intersection, where I officially re-joined the path.
Shore Road runs down towards the water, passing some shops, a park, and large well-appointed houses with rocky gardens. In little time, it is clear you are descending a hill, and at the waterfront where there is a seating area and a beach off the the right. To the left is the harbour, and ahead of you in the Firth of Forth is just visible the outline of Inchcolm Abbey. Once the sun came out, I was able to get a good shot of the island.
From here, the path leads towards the harbour, and just as the road turns into wharf, there is a sign directing walkers to the left. The harbour is small but with plenty of sailing vessels – less fishing, more pleasure boating here it seems – and sheltered by a headland. As the path loops around the harbour it crosses a burn that has cut through two sloping fields. I knew that at the top of the hill was the castle, but it hidden from view.
Beyond the harbour, the path climbs a bit as it continues around the coast, with occasional breaks in the trees for views back towards the village or out to Inchcolm.
It was an odd weather day, not sunny but nonetheless quite warm and a bit sticky. My cardigan, needed for the train and early part of my trip, did not last long.
After perhaps five minutes, some houses appear through the trees, but be aware that the Coastal Path does not follow the road here, instead taking a sharp left up some stone steps.
As the trail winds through the trees there are a few small footpaths leading off into the distance, but if you maintain your course relatively straight, you will eventually reach a hilltop meadow.
It was just about at my arrival at the hilltop that the sun began to win its battle with the clouds, peeking through a few gaps, though clouds over Edinburgh and south still looked threatening. I was also delighted to discover what seemed to be a set of small standing stones, and a gate that led to the top of the cliffs that overlook Aberdour. The edge is sharp and not fenced at all, so there are plenty of warning signs – it is a dramatic spot looking over the water, along the coast, and to the distant Forth bridges. I learned later that this is Hawkcraig Point, once home to a Royal Naval Submarine research base, though there is very little remaining except for a lighthouse.
Once I had taken my fill of the view, I headed down the hill towards the narrow road which must have been constructed to reach the point. At the time it was being used by some very keen fishermen.
The road passes through a large parking area designated for caravans (unlike many car parks), which was incredibly busy. More than a few dogs were sitting outside in front of their temporary homes, watching me closely as I passed, and occasionally looking up at the regular outgoing planes from Edinburgh airport – clearly we were on the flight path that day.
Soon I reached Silver Sands beach, which was already growing busy. Like many beach areas in Fife, it is well-kept with a good car park, some playground equipment, and a cafe that had not quite opened yet, much to my disappointment. I could have done with another coffee.
At the far end of the beach, the path disappears into the woodland with a well-kept trail that is either paved or packed dirt and close to the edge of the water. Below you is a rocky shoreline with sea birds, and I paused for a short while to watch a pair of cormorants (or that’s what they looked like anyway) doing some breakfast fishing.
Inchcolm Abbey in the Firth of Forth
In a short time, the left-hand side of the trail becomes a long stone wall, an old estate wall, which follows the path as it rises and falls over some gentle hills. This was a popular stretch with runners, as it was mostly paved, and required a bit less attention to your feet.
About half-way between Aberdour and Burntisland, the route passes under the rail line through a stone tunnel. This is a busy stretch of track with quite regular traffic, and it is a section I have always loved when on the train as the views across the Forth are superb.
Just outside of the edge of Burntisland, the path crosses Starley Burn over a lovely pedestrian bridge. There is a waterfall above which falls about 12 – 15 feet, and the lime-rich water causes a thick coating on the rocks. It’s a nice peaceful spot in a glen, good for a short break should you need one.
Soon after crossing the burn, the path jogs left inland a bit, and narrows between the train on one side, and a stone wall on the other, with fields up to the left. By this time the day had warmed up nicely, with no wind and only a breath of breeze, so the section here was quite warm, away from the water.
Approaching the edge of Burntisland, the route passes a lovely old estate which reminded me of something out of a Jane Austen movie, including a metal gate in the estate wall – Colinswell House, I learned upon searching. Shortly beyond is Burntisland proper, and the path leads along the edge of a very nice neighbourhood of relatively new homes.
There is an option to pass under the track but don’t be tempted, as the route continues straight before beginning to wind through a nice park. It was well-kept with cut grass, oak and silver birch trees, and a small burn down below between the park and the residential area.
About a half-mile beyond the edge of the town, the route passes into an open park with a view of houses and the hill behind. At the edge of the park turn right up the hill on Kirkton Road. Descending the other side takes you past a few apartment blocks, though these disappear quickly when at the bottom you turn left on to the High Street (not East Broomfield Road, which you reach first). Follow the High Street, which is lined with shops and pubs, quite pleasantly not too many chains but instead local places that seemed quite popular – particularly the butcher and the bakery.
Just before the High Street runs into the Links there is a Co-op food store, a great place to grab a drink or snack if you need it. Across the road at the edge of the Links is also a public toilet – not the fanciest toilet in the world, but it was the first one I had passed that was open. Beyond, I could see the large trucks and brightly-coloured tents and rides of the Burntisland Fair, which takes place over the summer. I caught a few glimpses as I followed the edge of the grass up Links Place and then turned left along Lammerlaws Rd. There is an odd mix here of quite old pubs and buildings that show the age of the town, and much newer additions as well as the bright colours of the fair.
Lammerlaws Road becomes a bridge over the train track, and some walkers taller than I may be able to see over the wall – I tried with my phone but had no luck. Continue straight until you reach the water’s edge, where you can see the busy beach and promenade to the left.
Burntisland promenade is narrower but no less busy than some others, with plenty of families and dog-walkers enjoying the sunny day on what was one of the last weekends before school. The beach was popular and there were life guards on duty, with large flags indicating where it was safe to swim. Just beyond their hut, the Coastal Path splits into two options: the high tide and low tide routes. It was about mid-tide, but upon looking at the low tide option, I decided I was not feeling up to proper long-term rock scrambling. So, I followed the road to the left, through another tunnel, and turned right along the A921.
This was a pleasant stretch of road lined with bungalows and cottages with well-kept gardens, and eventually runs past the town cemetery. Opposite the far end of the cemetery wall, there is another tunnel under the rails, and I chose this as my moment to re-join the beach. It was a steep slope down to the rocks, but beyond was lovely and sandy, with a relatively straightforward route that is solid and easy to walk on.
the low tide route
If I had stayed on the road a tad longer I would have passed the Alexander III memorial which would have been nice to see, but I did not realize it would be inaccessible from the beach.
The beach here is incredibly wide at low tide, with flats stretching far out into the Firth that I can only imagine are muddy and a touch treacherous. On a clearer day, the views across to Edinburgh and Leith would be excellent, and even on a hazy day they were impressive.
Another half mile or so beyond where I re-joined the beach, the dunes bulge out towards the beach, and the option is either to follow the sand or cut up to the grass. I opted for this, following the at times quite faint path through long grass, ferns, and various other flora. I’m not sure this was the most sensible option, but being slightly higher than the beach allowed some views back towards the three bridges – just peeking out over the headland – and a better feel for what you usually see from the train.
There was some near-bivouacking for a while, but eventually the trail re-joined the beach, with the road high above. As I approached Pettycur I could see a caravan park on the hill, and a steep flight of stairs leading up from the beach. This definitely was not what I wanted to see after a solid 5 miles or more of walking, and so I found a perfect rock ledge on which to take a proper break and enjoy my packed lunch. Which was, incidentally, inclusive of the all-American favourite, peanut butter and jelly (raspberry jelly, which in my opinion is the best).
God’s food, I will hear no objections.
It was salty, a touch sweet, and absolutely perfect.
This is one of my favourite pictures from this walk. Peaceful beach.
As I enjoyed my flash-back to the USA, I pulled out my up-to-date map of the coastal path to determine whether I had to climb the hill or not. After deciding that I could just as easily follow the beach, I made myself sit for 10 minutes enjoying the view before packing up again.
The route I chose definitely included a touch of rock-climbing as a tidal pool cut off the sandy option; fortunately, the rocks were not slippery but heavily encrusted with barnacles, which were great for grip. They would be torture should you fall, but I managed to avoid both a slip and wet feet. This was the case even once I had crossed the rocks and negotiated my way across the sand, which was rippled and wet but not enough to reach over my boot treads.
At this point I was in Pettycur bay, which included a small harbour where the boats were all beached due to low tide. I climbed the stairs at the edge of the harbour to re-join the road, which would have been the high tide option I think. My break and snack hadn’t really done much to reinvigorate me, and I found myself slowing down as I headed up the long slow hill of Pettycur Road that runs from the beach up to the top of the cliffs. The houses here reminded me quite a bit of parts of Marblehead – lovely, large modern places built on stilts or into the edge of the cliff, open to the Firth of Forth and ocean beyond. For those familiar, it was a touch like part of Marblehead Neck, right at the far end from the causeway, though these houses were smaller.
I had pretty much determined that when I reached the top of the hill, I was going to need another rest – I had been reluctant to look at the map to work out how close I was to Kinghorn. What rather gave it away was when I noticed road names that were Alexander III Street, and then David I Street – there is also a Canmore St and Queen Margaret St, showing the strong historical tie of the area to the Medieval Scottish crown. Suddenly, I realised, I was essentially in Kinghorn.
The sign for the Coastal Path turns right down a close, with the sea ahead, and at the end a set of benches. The view is, like so many others, spectacular – the ocean stretches out ahead, with the clifftop homes to your right and the town of Kinghorn with its train viaduct to the left. I paused for a few minutes to savour the triumph, though in doing so I missed that hour’s train. So, I took a gradual walk down towards the water before finding the spot at the bottom of the hill where I had marked the start of my journey from Kinghorn to Kirkcaldy.
I may have missed a few of the historical sites along the way that I hoped to see, but this walk really tested the limits of my fitness and I got to see parts of Fife I had only ever passed through.
It was a good final walk for the summer, I felt, leaving me in a strong place for when I come back from travels long enough to pick things up again. I’m looking forward to trying to stay fit while travelling – hotel gyms are uninspiring – but it’s a good goal to have, and I was really pleased when this hike didn’t completely destroy me. Was I a bit stiff that night? Yes. But it faded by morning.
Completing a circuit of the Coastal Path by January may no longer be a feasible goal but that doesn’t stop me from doing my best to try. So, last Saturday I planned another stretch, on the shorter side as I had family commitments to get back to in the afternoon. So, Leven to Lower Largo seemed a good option, and relatively easy to manage by bus.
The day started windy and with patches of rain, with water still in the breeze but sun promising a change in the distance. The storm earlier in the week cleared out the air a bit, and it was less stuffy and a few degrees cooler – perfect day for a walk. (Though, side note, the other half was devastated that the storm was mostly wind, as he was looking forward to a wet grey day. Instead we experienced fast-moving white fluffy clouds and wind, very little rain).
The bus I chose was the x58, which is a faster route south from St Andrews towards Upper and Lower Largo, bypassing most of the East Neuk. It was a nice ride, quick and interesting to see different villages for a change.
I reached Leven Bus Station in good time, and despite there being no visible signs for the Coastal Path, it was easy to see where to go.
The bus station is very centrally located and only a road away from the coastline, just next to where the River Leven empties out across the beach into the ocean. There is a big car park here, and a promenade that is smaller than the one in Kirkcaldy but just as pleasant, with a wide sandy beach. While the Coastal Path proper runs along the road, I took a quick jaunt down to the sand to on several occasions.
Also similar to Kirkcaldy, this promenade provides a view of the whole bay, with coast stretching out for miles ahead up to the point where you would turn to go to Elie, and Largo Law – Largo hill – towering over the distant towns. It was a touch hazy, but became clearer as the day went on and the clouds were chased away by sunshine.
As I walked along the beach, I became aware of the excited screams and laughter of many children, who were playing in a large blow-up arcade with a massive slide and other amusements. This theme continued, as further down the coast was an older arcade-style building, a new skateboard park, playground equipment, a putting green and more.
At this point the Coastal Path signage is scarce, but there really isn’t any other option but to follow the road. On the side away from the beach, I eventually passed the Leven Golfing Society – a large red brick building – and enjoyed a nice vista across the golf course to the Victorian-era cottages beyond.
Unlike in other towns, the Coastal Path avoids going through Leven Beach Holiday Park, and there are two routes – a high tide route up behind the park, and a low tide route on the beach.
The sign that indicated these two routes was so faded from the sun that I could not capture it, but I figured that I would work it out when it was time to leave the beach.
I was also delighted to walk past a small group of pet owners taking part in a dog training class on the grassy area beside the beach. I passed more than a few dogs on the beach and this section of the trail – clearly it is a popular spot! Including one small white dog that continued to chew on its squeaky toy for a solid 10 minutes – at first I thought it might be a very odd bird, but soon realised my mistake.
beach looking towards Largo Law
The sign indicating the spot to re-join the high tide route is easily visible from the beach, and so I climbed back up onto the verge between the golf course and the sand. Like so many large patches of the Coastal Path, this was the pattern for the next mile or so – beach and golf course, both providing good camera fodder. (I have an idea to do a calendar of Scottish golf courses, so this walk will be a great help)
In very little time, the comment I made last week about not noticing WWII defenses this far down on the coast was entirely disregarded when a long line of concrete blocks appeared, essentially marking the border between golf and walking. The Coastal Path sign helpfully points right down the middle, so to some extent it is walker’s choice which side of the blocks you choose.
The track here is quite a bit softer, with deep sandy patches interspersed with grasses, making the going a little harder. I finally became warm enough to shed my cardigan (the wind was no laughing matter), and paused briefly at a bridge across a small burn. The burn cut through the dunes and was lined with sea roses and other wildflowers – really beautiful spot.
Some golf views…
As the path moves around the bay, Largo Law shifts further to the left, and the well-kept houses of Lundin Links appear along the distant edge of the golf course. At some point this becomes Lundin Links rather than Leven, though I’m not sure where – probably at the stone wall that seems to cut a relatively even division down the grassy slopes. On the beach, the pristine sand slowly becomes rockier, first by the waterline and then gradually moving inland, with sand replaced by the rock shelves so common in Fife. With the dunes and long grass edging the beach, it is just a really beautiful few miles, and could probably mostly be done on the sand itself, should a walker prefer the beach.
half beach, half golf- epitome of the Coastal Path
While on the dunes there are several little trails breaking off, the Coastal Path itself is always well-marked and relatively easy to follow, or so I thought as I was walking.
About a third of a mile after the first burn, there is a second, beyond which the trail climbs slightly up a hill with excellent viewpoints in all directions. I walked for another third of a mile or so only to reach a fence and some rather threatening warning signs, indicating that walkers could cross the golf course at this point, at their own risk. The only other choice was to go down to the beach.
After a quick check of my new map and the internet – which was working for a change – I determined that I had made an error, and that the actual route of the Fife Coastal Path led off to the left back at the most recent burn. As the course was busy, I determined it wisest to go back, unfortunately meaning that I was now about 15 minutes behind my schedule which was again depending upon busses.
great view for a detour…
Sure enough, the sign for the Coastal Path clearly directed walkers across the course at the burn – I missed it entirely, probably too busy with the burn itself – which is considerably further from the fairway and so safer. Annoyed at myself, I crossed the green and joined a dirt track which soon led into the residential area. The homes here are lovely with abundant gardens, and there are stern signs warning that dog walking must not take place on the golf course.
In about five minutes, there is a right turn to keep following the edge of the course, and then a quick left along the road leading towards the golf club. There is also a dirt track that climbs up a hill beside the road, removing walkers from the traffic, which is ideal.
Some Lundin Links views
Passing through the golf club parking lot, I spotted the signs for the path ahead as well as a large gate, leading beyond. There is an almost immediate right turn (though a path also leads straight ahead), and suddenly I found myself emerging from the tree line to a stunning view over the coast. It reminded me ever so slightly of certain parts of Cape Cod, with beach-adjacent trees, long grass and rambling sea roses. The path wound down the hill, with sand and rock beyond; do be careful if you get too immersed in the view, though, as there are several deep steps that you might miss or – ahem – slip down if you are too busy looking up.
This was by far my favourite part of the walk, and the ocean colours were extraordinary, almost Caribbean in their blue-green quality. There are a few side-paths but keep going straight and you will be fine, eventually reaching a stand of trees and a gate, beyond which the trail enters the edge of Lower Largo. There is a large orange house between the path and the coast, and you are walking behind identical coastal cottages for a short while. The homes are mostly old fisherman’s houses that have been restored, and ahead is the viaduct that used to carry the train.
As the road winds down into the town, be careful as there is not always an obvious sidewalk; this feels much more like the towns of Anstruther and Crail, and shortly the road crosses a narrow bridge over the harbour. Ahead is the Crusoe, a popular local restaurant, and to the left a beautiful old mid-eighteenth century inn, the Railway Inn, offers bar snacks and a beer garden.
The Coastal Path continues with a brief jog to the left, then straight along Main Street. You will pass a small grassy area with a stone fence, and in the middle a sculpture by a local artists, Alan Faulds. There is more of his art further on – very unique stuff.
By this point, my walk was quickly coming to an end, so I decided to mark the close at the Aurrie, just next to a car park which should really have been called a boat yard. I took a quick moment to enjoy the view over the beach, then turned inland.
If you are also planning to finish a walk here, be warned that the street leading up the hill – Durham Wynd – is steep and without a pedestrian path for the first section at least.
Beyond that it was an easy five-minute trip to the bus stop and I caught the bus with a few minutes to spare, in the meantime keeping the company of a field of cows. One note about the bus trip back – I always forget about the great view of St Andrews as you come over the hill past Cairnsmill Caravan park. I just managed one today, though the bus was jerking about and bumpy.
Another note – one of the aspects of the Fife Coastal Path about which I am continually impressed is how you can turn a relatively unexciting-looking corner and suddenly be faced with a jaw-dropping vista. It has happened so many times now that I can’t even count, but I am always amazed. It really makes the heat, sweat, bugs, and bouncing around on public transport worth the effort. Large portions of the path are quiet, so I am often on my own, astounded by the peace and beauty, and counting myself lucky that I have the opportunity to pursue this goal.
My next walk is likely to be the last one I can manage before autumn travel, and I have planned a good one – 6 miles, at least one castle, and as usual phenomenal coastline. I hope the weather stays good, though wouldn’t mind if it cooled off a touch…
For whatever reason, this past Saturday morning sleep was not my friend and I woke early – the same time I do for work, which is early for a weekend – and got myself going to aim for a bus an hour earlier than I had intended. And good thing I did, as this stretch of the Coastal Path took me longer than expected, even with a few stops to test out my new camera. Yes, that is one exciting development this week: I finally managed to order and have delivered the fancy new camera that was a – cough – Christmas present from my father. Entirely my fault that it took me this long to get it sorted, as I was waffling about what to get. I settled on a switch of brand, moving from Canon to Nikon. I still need to spend some time working it out, but I’ll get there. And I digress. (still…new toy!)
Crail is a bit more limited than Anstruther in terms of public transport, but the 95 is always a good option and I got my favourite seat upstairs at the front. Also on the bus were a group of young caddies, probably about 21, who were on their way to Kingsbarns and discussing their job and how much they would make after a day of work. Blew my mind – I can definitely see the appeal! A lot of hard work to get there, I know, but still paid incredibly well especially for someone on a summer break from university.
I arrived in Crail at 9am on the dot, alighting just before the roundabout where St Andrews Road turns into the High Street. It was a short walk of less than 5 minutes down Castle Street, then a slight veer to the left around the castle wall, to the spot where I had officially ended the walk to Crail from Anstruther a few weeks back.
The oath is clearly marked here, along the Nethergate heading north-east. This street is just an endless line of beautiful houses and well-kept gardens, which are really all-pervasive in Crail. Even the edge of town where the houses are ‘newer’ is a lovely winding neighbourhood with beautiful gardens. That said, the constant shrieking of the gulls (expected, still annoying) made me wonder if I really coveted one of these cottages.
In about a third of a mile, the Nethergate ends at a stone wall and large grassy area, and the path takes a steep turn town towards the beach; ahead is a line of Victorian-era houses with beautiful gardens (notice a pattern?), and the open sea beyond.
There are two paths here, one a straight shot down a steep hill along a wall, and one off to the left which is a touch more gradual. This is the official path, I think, though I chose the other way. Going along the wall eventually takes you past this late medieval doocot, which is still open (though I did not go in) and which includes a detailed explanation of what a doocot is. This one, built around 1550, housed pigeons until the mid-19th century, and is of a quite traditional round ‘beehive’ design, though there are plenty – for example one at Tantallon Castle – that are rectangular.
Beyond the doocot, I turned left along the shore, where there is a playpark next to the sea. The weather was mild but breezy, with a mix of sun and clouds that was the perfect opportunity to test my camera. The beach is rocky with small patches of sand, reminding me very much of the beaches at home. I was relieved to discover that there was also a toilet block, though it was far from clean or well-kept. Those in Crail had been at the other end of town, so this seemed a good opportunity, and potentially the last one on this walk. (Though if you ask very nicely, it may be possible to use the ones at the caravan park, I’m really not sure)
At the end of the bay, there is a flight of steps leading up to what I realised was the actual Coastal Path – oops – which had run along the top of the park. Either way is fine, I’m sure! This is of course a good spot to get a few pictures back over the beach towards the town. From here it was along the path for a short while, and a relatively fast right turn through a grassy field. There are several routes here, some leading off to the left that are clearly made by walkers, and the Coastal Path is not well-marked, but stick to the main trail heading straight for the water’s edge, and you will reach a gap in the stone wall. It may not seem the right way, but it is!
Once through the stone wall, you will see signs again and the entrance to the Sauchope Links Holiday Lodge and Caravan park. There is a clear direction here, sending walkers through the caravans on the main road. While it was early morning and the park was just waking up – some lucky souls sitting on their porch drinking coffee with a splendid view over the ocean – there were some vehicles too, keeping me on my toes.
I was really impressed with the holiday park which had a small but clean-looking pool and a good number of well-kept caravans. In time the caravan park merged into the holiday lodges, including a few glamping pods (I think) and then eventually some really lovely-looking lodges. The views were excellent, but I did have some doubt as to whether I’d want to be quite that close to the water here on the outermost edge of Fife – especially with Storm Floris expected in a few days. Eventually I discovered the style of house I liked best, up on the side of the hill a bit further back, with big patios and I am sure, a great view.
After about ten minutes or so of walking – it’s a big park! – I found a sign for the Coastal Peth taking me off the main road and down a sandy track towards the beach. The path runs between the lodges and the beach, alternately sandy, grassy, and occasionally rocky. It was an odd day where I couldn’t decide if I needed sunglasses or not, and it meant that the views were alternately bright and clear or a bit murky.
In time – longer than I expected – I reached the end of the park and went through a wooden kissing gate onto a more wild path, with high grass on both sides. There is a beautiful rock structure up ahead on the right, and a sign indicating that walkers are now entering the Kilminning Nature Reserve. Here are some great views looking back, particularly if there are waves crashing on the rocky promontories between beaches.
You will note in these pictures an enormous wind farm, with turbines all along the edge of the horizon. There is a lot of controversy over this wind farm, and the recent approval for what will be Europe’s largest wind farm; some object to the visual of them, but there are also environmental concerns. Personally I don’t think the optics are really an issue, and I don’t have knowledge to comment on the impact on sea birds.
From this point, the path rounds a corner into a relatively wide flat area, with long grass on either side and a rocky trail. There was one spot that was really muddy and required negotiation on stones, but overall it is pleasant, a touch flatter than much of the East Neuk trail. In a few places, you will notice entrances to bunkers along the coast; it was of course a perfect lookout spot during World War II.
This part of the trail is quiet and it might be tempting to look up at the view, but it is also quite uneven and I have in the past rolled an ankle pretty hard here. As you go past a viewing platform and through another kissing gate, the path becomes a bit more rolling, with some ups and downs on rocky stairs that can be steep.
There are some great viewpoints, and eventually at the end of the bay you go up and down one more rise and discover a golf course on your left – this is Fife after all – and the ‘corner’ of Fife ahead. By corner, I mean the point of land that sticks out furthest in to the North Sea.
I found myself stopping here for several minutes, looking out over the crashing waves – it was a challenge really not to stay for hours, as I find them quite mesmerizing. Repetitive, yet always different.
I had a goal however and so pushed on. Right at the corner, the trail narrows slightly to pass between the Fife Ness Lighthouse above, and a bird blind and WWII pillbox, constructed in 1941 as part of the Crail airfield. Whereas you often see other evidence of WWII defenses further up the coast along West Sands and Tentsmuir, I had not noticed many or any in the East Neuk.
Once you turn the corner, you approach another small caravan park and the remains of Fife Ness harbour, first mentioned in the 1530s.
The harbour was used for fishing, as well as for shipping stone from nearby Craighead quarry – some of this fine stone was used to repair St Andrews Cathedral in the 1450s. The long lines of sharp rocks stretching into the waves make it clear why this point of Fife could be treacherous for boats; I was walking at about mid-tide, but the rocks clearly went much further under the waves.
There is also a great example of a Scottish seaside cottage, well-kept of course with a small garden. I wasn’t really sure that I was going the right way here, but there was really no other obvious route, so as before I just kept walking.
The paved road soon looked as though it would be heading directly for Crail Golf Club, but sure enough as I reached the edge of the green, the Coastal Path signs returned and I headed off to the right on a path that ran along the edge of the green.
This is a really beautiful stretch, particularly in the sun as it was when I walked, with the ocean and multitude of wild flowers. It is hard not to be fascinated by the layers of stone and the pools of water between them, glistening in the sun. There are a few signs on poster boards for adult geology classes, and it is easy to see why this would be a good spot. The layers of stone and water erosion are very evident.
From here the path hugs the edge of the golf course, at times moving up to the walkways designed for golfers, but only for a short while. I stumbled across Constantine’s Cave quite by surprise, absolutely not expecting it to be in the middle of the golf course. Interestingly, the other half and I had planned to walk to the cave some years ago, joining the trail near the airfield, but gave up due to my rolling my ankle (see above). I’m quite pleased in the end that we didn’t go the whole way, as compared to the Caiplie Caves this one is a bit less dramatic.
While visually not as impressive, the cave does have an interesting history; excavation work has shown evidence of a stone wall across the entrance, protecting the interior space, and the earliest occupation layer was pre-Roman. The cave’s name comes from the local tradition that King Constantine III of Alba (903-943) was killed in a battle near the cave.
Not far beyond, walkers are directed to move down to the beautiful sandy beach below, to avoid interfering with the golf play. I was very happy to do so, enjoying my ramble in the sand, though it was somewhat hindered by what must have been hundreds of beached Moon jellyfish along the high waterline. Eventually I chose to move closer to the waves, where I could avoid stepping on them.
The sandy beach slowly becomes rocky, and the last few metres require some scrambling to return to the upper path, along the golf course. Soon after re-joining the grassy trail, another corner is turned and all at once I could see the tree line of Cambo Estate ahead, though still a distance away. It was a touch intimidating to see the coastline between there and where I stood, including a headland that I was not sure if I would pass over or under.
I should note that the official map of the Fife Coastal Path warns walkers that this section of the trail, between Crail and St Andrews, can be challenging and may not be passable at high tide. While I had neglected to check the tide – not a mistake I will make again – I was lucky to discover it was going out rather than in, so I had plenty of time. Absolutely be more sensible than I if you try this walk, and check well in advance – there are plenty of websites and apps available.
From here to the edge of Crail Golf Course, it can be on occasion difficult to tell if you should be on the beach or not. At least once I opted for the beach route, seeing a faint trail from other hikers, as it was nice to have a bit of variety. I was so fortunate to be walking on such a gorgeous day, and at a time of year when daisies and other wild flowers are everywhere. (I do not know names – must educate myself on wild flowers). There is a series of small white posts in the grass that seems to separate the well-manicured golf course from the trail, but those are not always clear.
Eventually, after about 1.3 miles of edging along the golf course – with frequent reminders that golf is being played and you should be aware, and listen out for ‘fore’! – the course ends and there is a different kind of hazard, albeit short-term. The field of livestock was relatively calm, with one or two getting up as I passed. The white cow did keep a close eye on me, but never actually moved, just watched carefully that I would not be a problem.
At the far edge of the livestock pasture, the path leads steeply up hill – the headland I could see from a distance – then almost immediately back down again. There may have been an option to scramble along the beach here, rather than going up and down, but there was a great view at the top so worth the extra push. This may also be the only option at high tide.
Once down at beach level, the path cuts in front of a large cliff, onto the beach. There is a warning sign here to stay on the beach to avoid the fields of livestock, which are clearly open to the beach.
At first, the beach is not too difficult to manage, a combination of sandy and rocky but mostly rocky. I could see it as definitely being slippery if wet or if the tide had recently receded. As someone who grew up playing on beaches like this, I really enjoyed this section, especially with the view off to the right. The most challenging parts were soft sand and dodging the cow pats that were evidence of the open boundary between beach and meadow.
As I plodded along the beach, though, I realised that I was starting to run a bit short on time. It’s always a touch frustrating on a trip like this when your public travel options are limited, and you find yourself racing the clock. The farther I went, the rougher the terrain became, with rocks that were too small to completely stand on, but too large to step between, requiring a lot of attention and energy, slip sliding along. Progress slowed, and I was running low on energy. Finally, I caught sight of a stone wall – this was the end of the beach walk, though I was challenged in the end by a final obstacle – using a rope to haul myself up a wooden ladder to cross the wall.
It was at this point that I realised I needed to add two things to my hiking arsenal: one, a portable power bank, as my phone was beginning to run low (using it for pictures and voice notes) and I needed it for my return bus ticket. Two, an updated map of the coastal path; mine was from 2017, and it has become increasingly evident with each walk that changes have been made since then. While there is an online version, you are often out of range of data on these walks so it quickly becomes obsolete.
Carrying on past the wall, the path heads up a small hill, offering views of the livestock field on one side, and Kingsbarns Golf Course on the other. It was a busy day for golf with several large groups out, and to my amusement I identified more than a few American accents among them.
I thought that the path stayed by the coast at this point but instead it loops up above the golf course, which caused me a bit of confusion. My last efforts along the beach had driven me beyond the point of questioning, though, so I pushed on, enjoying the view over the course. It was also helpful to see the treeline of the Cambo Estate clearly ahead of me, knowing that was my goal.
The path is a touch unclear here, but I used my instinct and habit at this point to keep to the edge of the golf course – a brief turn left then almost immediately right again, between a few greens. The sun was bright and hot by this time, and up to the left I could see a few old estates including the roof of Kingsbarns Distillery.
The Coastal Path approaches the estate wall and is briefly forced around to the left, curving towards the water, before a small gap in the stone appears. There is a wooden gate and sign for the path – I was quite relieved, as I knew the end was near and I did not want to go all the way back down to the beach.
Through the gate, there is an immediate right-hand turn down some wooden stairs, and a view through the trees towards the beach, looking over the Cambo burn.
Once you go down the steps, the path sweeps towards the river, and on the other side splits into several directions. One leads down to the coast, one further along towards Kingsbarns, and one up towards the estate house and gardens. This was where I marked the end of my walk – 5.5 miles from where I started in Crail. But, I still had a way to go, walking up through the estate grounds.
Cambo is a beautiful spot to visit, with a walled garden, excellent café, and plant shop. It is possible to walk up past the walled garden, through the car park, and along a path all the way to the road – for those hoping to make a bus, this is a solid mile. I tried, I really did, but I missed by about 10 minutes, having forgotten just how far it was. Fortunately, the other half took pity upon me and collected me from the bus stop where the only alternative was a 45-minute wait.
I did consider joining the groups of families and couples enjoying their lunch in the sun, but I was hot, sweaty, and a touch bedraggled. Home was the better option. Overall I found this a really pleasant walk, and not as difficult physically as I thought, meaning that my stamina is definitely improving.
I might try it the other way were I to do it again, with the rocky beach the first thing I tackled rather than the last. But I do seem to have developed a pattern of walking counter-clockwise around the edge of Fife, and I am now reluctant to change that. Public transport is possible for this route but a bit tricky, so worth just being aware of the limited options (one bus an hour to Cambo), and of course, check the tides!
Autumn travel approaches, but I hope I will manage at least one more section of the trail before I disappear overseas.
After my plans for a walk last weekend were rained out (torrential rain, not pleasant Scottish mist), I was determined to get back on track this weekend. It has however been a long and stressful week at work, so I chose a slightly shorter route again rather than pushing myself for the five miles I was planning. After spending the last few weeks arranging my autumn travel, I am becoming concerned that the goal to get this walk done by end of January might be a touch ambitious, but I can only try and get as much done as possible. And it doesn’t mean I’m going to not finish at all, just that it might take a bit longer. Eagle-eyed readers checking my Fife Coastal Path challenge page may note that I have extended the challenge by 6 months. A new goal, and one I intend to keep!
It’s been a warm few weeks, but this morning I discovered a lovely cool air wafting through the bathroom window, and the sky was overcast but not threatening, so it seemed a good morning to make a bit of progress. So, I hopped on a bus to St Monans, where the primary bus stop is on the main road. It is a relatively short – though steep – walk down Station Road to the waterfront.
I finished my walk at the East Pier, and so it is here that I set my timer again, before heading up away from the harbour along Forth Street and then making a quick right onto Rose Street. Rose Street is lined with beautiful old houses and cottages so omnipresent in the East Neuk, and ends at a small car park from which the Coastal Path continues.
Immediately ahead, less than a ten minute walk, St Monans windmill dominates the horizon. A remnant of the 18th-century Scottish salt trade, the windmill pumped sea water into salt pans, which were boiled using the plentiful local coal supply – Fife was a major coal producer from the 1800s until the 1980s.
As you walk past the windmill, the remnants of the salt works are evident in indentations in the grass as well as the foundation ruins of a workhouse. I of course took a quick detour up to the windmill itself to see the view in both directions. Below the windmill is one of many coastal bathing pools though this one was empty in the brisk breeze.
As I kept moving, I was warm enough to manage with just a t-shirt, but wind-breaker would not have gone amiss. This section of the walk was already busy again – more so than further towards Kincardine – with dog walkers and even a few foreign tourists. Passing the windmill, one can already see Pittenweem in the distance, as well as across the Firth of Forth to the Bass Rock.
Not long before the houses of Pittenweem appear, the path splits with one route leading up the hill and the other along to the swimming pool, where there was a brave soul doing laps in what could only have been chilly water. Due to very evident coastal erosion, this portion of the path is quite new, heading up the hill towards West Brae, where there is a small snack shop and a mini golf.
The coastal path heads down again after this brief rise and around the corner to a great view of the town. The sun was trying to come out as I reached this point, desperately fighting against the clouds, which made for some very dramatic colours, as you can see above.
The route enters Pittenweem on the path between the coast-facing houses and the rocky shore; clearly an area built well before the advent of cars, when it would have been more likely to take a boat to your doorstep. Shortly the path opens up to a road and a car park, at the end of which is a beautiful statue that is the Pittenweem Fishermen’s Memorial – the figures of an anxious mother and child looking out over the sea for their returning loved ones. It could as easily be in my home town as here, though Pittenweem is still far busier as a fishing port. In fact, it is the busiest port in the East Neuk with an active fish market.
I took a short detour – again – out the harbour wall where you get a real feel for how active the place still is. There are some beautiful old buildings at the water’s edge, which I took a bit of time to appreciate before heading on my way.
Beyond the harbour, the path heads up a hill along Abbey Wall Road, which is lined with houses. I love the way the stone wall rises from the rock, as if they were one.
Then suddenly, at the top of the hill, the view opens up and is a gorgeous vista over the ocean and coast in both directions.
From here to the edge of Pittenweem, the path hugs the top of the cliff, with neighbourhoods disappearing up roads to the left, and the path a hazy line through Glebe Park, some grassy patches and behind walled gardens.
It’s the time of year for flowers!
As with most East Neuk villages, the edge of Pittenweem is very dramatic, with a line of houses right up against a wide field. Less than a quarter of a mile beyond, the path takes a turn down the coast with some relatively steep rock steps that could easily be slippery if they were damp.
Descending the rocky steps, one finds the first signs for Anstruther Golf Course, and the alert that walkers should be courteous of players and listen for any signs that an errant ball might be coming their way. Wildflowers line the narrow trail until suddenly they stop, with well-manicured grass immediately ahead.
Generally, the Coastal Path is best followed by keeping close to the edge of the grass, where it meets the rocky shore. There are some great views back along the dramatic shale coastline, back to Pittenweem.
In little time, the edge of the golf course moves inland, with the path sticking close to the shore. It isn’t particularly well marked, but as long as you stay on the edge of the line where the shore meets the beach, you are in good shape, and there is an obvious trail. There are also some relatively gentle ups and downs – in fact this whole section has a few more ups and downs than many on the East Neuk – between grass tufts, a few boulders, and some more wild flowers and gorse.
You will pass this beautiful white beach made entirely of shells, which some have used to write out messages on the rocks as they go by. It looked to me like the kind of beach nicer to look at than walk on – sharp shells are not the greatest material to explore.
Around the corner from this beach, Anstruther opens up ahead of you, and it is possible to get a real feel for the size of the town. While not enormous – the population is about 3,500 – it is the largest town in the East Neuk with a seafront that stretches for more than a mile, including its busy harbour and beaches.
Above you on the left is the Anstruther war memorial, designed as a medieval-looking tower with crenellations on top, and over to the right on a rock is a lone saltire flag, quite dramatic against the sea.
There is a playpark here which was busier with dog walkers than children on the day I passed, then the path circles around between Anstruther beach and the first hole of the golf course.
Beyond the beach, you pass the golf club itself, which must have a stunning view over the ocean and Anstruther harbour. The coastal path continues straight here into the residential neighbourhood and is well-marked, taking walkers up Crichton Street. If you take a short detour at this point though, you reach this lovely wee cottage and view over the sea – I can’t resist a stone cottage!
At the top of Crichton Street, turn right onto the A917, which is the main route along this part of the East Neuk, running from St Andrews down towards Elie. Though it is narrow, this portion of the road is quite busy with cars and busses and trucks, sometimes going a touch faster than would be wise.
One of the first notable buildings is the Dreel Tavern, which sits at an angle away from the road. Dating from the 18th century at the latest, the Tavern currently serves meals and drinks, both inside and in the large beer garden to the rear. Also to the rear is the Dreel Burn, along which you can walk in both directions, though it shortly winds around the churchyard and across the beach to join the ocean. There is a great deal of work being done at the moment to restore the water quality of the burn.
Beyond the tavern on the opposite side of the road, there is a lovely stretch of well-restored older homes in bright colours, and on the corner a house that has been meticulously decorated with shells.
From here, you have two routes. One is the official Coastal Path route, which carries on along the High Street, crossing the burn, and then following the road into the centre of town. Keep to the right, passing in front of the Bank Hotel, and then turn right to meet Shore Street. There are bus shelters on either side of the road, but be careful when choosing a side. Busses to St Andrews, for example, leave from both sides depending on the route, so make sure you check the time tables! While several routes pass this way, frustratingly they tend to arrive around the same time, so you may be left without transport for a while. Fortunately, there are plenty of shops and cafes in which to pick up snacks. And of course the famous Anstruther Fish Bar.
There is another option however, and this is not to turn left along the High Street, but instead to continue straight down the Esplanade, to where there is a car park. If you choose this route, do take a short moment to detour back to the Dreel Halls, which is the tall yellow building you cannot miss. Formerly a church, the upper part was built to house the Town Hall in the 1790s, while the downstairs was used for a school.
Once you have taken a short wander through the extensive graveyard, return to the Esplanade and head for the car park you can see ahead. The homes here are mostly 18th-century or so, and some are beautifully decorated.
The view from the car park is excellent in all directions.
But what is most intriguing – and possibly only accessible at mid- to low tide – is a notch cut in the wall, and a steep flight of stairs leading down to the beach. At the bottom is a set of concrete stepping stones that allows you to cross the water of the Dreel Burn.
The beach ahead is soft and sandy, and can be a bit of a struggle if you are wearing heavy boots. The view of Anstruther in the gathering clouds was stunning, though, and I was pleased to have opted for this route.
As I headed for the bus shelter, these dark clouds became more and more ominous, and I was lucky I think not to be soaked. Fortunately, the breeze of the day continued in my favour, pushing the clouds past, and an almost blue sky returned as I waited for the bus.
Next weekend, I’m aiming to wrap up the East Neuk with the Crail to Cambo route. We’ll see how I do!
Scotland (and indeed the whole UK) was blessed last week with a stretch of sunny, hot weather that encouraged everyone to get outside. And then back inside, quickly, to get sun screen and water bottles. In England the temperatures hit the 30s (about 90°F), and in Scotland the high 20s which qualifies as a genuine heat wave.
I was eager to get back to my Coastal Path goal after several weeks of travel and then post-travel illness (I blame Charles de Gaulle airport, where I was re-routed after a flight delay), and this sunny spell was the perfect incentive to get out there. So, I chose a slightly shorter route than I had been doing in May, only 4 miles rather than 5, for while I’d kept up my walking during my travels, the cold/cough combo on my return meant I’d had two weeks for my stamina to unravel.
It was time, I decided, to tackle some of the south coast of Fife beyond the East Neuk, and so I planned the train trip to Kinghorn, where the rail station is almost immediately on the Coastal Path. Since the opening of the Leven Rail line, the trains from Edinburgh to Dundee no longer stop at these smaller stations, and so I was required to change trains in Kirkcaldy. Fortunately, the Leven train was only 5 minutes behind, so I was only slightly delayed; if coming from the Edinburgh direction, it would be easy to get on the direct Leven train.
The day was sunny and bright when I alighted in Kinghorn, which is a station I have always wanted to stop at due to the beautiful view from the train at this point. This section of the track is why I always encourage visitors to sit on the right-hand side of the train coming north.
I paused to take a few pictures and hoped to use the facilities in the small station, but found them out of order. So, I headed down the steep hill towards the coastline and beach.
Kinghorn may not boast quite the same stunning nature as some of the East Neuk villages, but the beach is beautiful and there are regular views across the Firth of Forth towards Edinburgh. It was a clear day so that I could see the outline of Arthur’s seat and the coastal town of Leith clearly, while a gentle breeze kept the temperature comfortable and the bugs at bay.
The path starts off along the coast then loops back up under the train track and through a fantastic pirate-themed play park.
Beyond the park, the route passes once again under the rails, then turns left along the back side of a caravan park. This portion of the trail is quite narrow, stuck between the fence for the park and the fence for the train line, so keep a look out here for other walkers/runners and cyclists. I should say, I did not pass many people at the Kinghorn end of the trail, but as I approached Kirkcaldy there were more and more people using the path for a Saturday morning jog or stroll with the dog.
I mentioned above the rail track, and it’s worth pointing out that this is a relatively busy line, so don’t be alarmed by a sudden, speedy train interrupting your peaceful walk. And peaceful it is, gently rising and falling along with the coast, a similar feel to other sections of the walk with the rocky beach on one side and a grassy slope on the other, dotted with bushes, wild flowers and the occasional tree.
The ocean was incredibly still on the morning I walked, with only one or two fishing boats out; the gentle breeze I enjoyed was definitely not enough for sailing. It was difficult not to pause regularly to enjoy the view back to Edinburgh , and if my camera battery had not died 10 minutes in (my own fault for not checking it), there would be many more I am sure. Fortunately, my phone takes good pictures so I made up for the lack as best I could.
Gradually the path goes around a curve in the coast, and rises temporarily away from the beach on a sharp switch-back style path. The view from the top is even better, though it does not last long, with the trail gently descending over several stair cases. One advantage I noted of this portion of the path was that there was a fair amount of shade, relieving the heat of the sun for a short while. This is definitely not the case closer to Kirkcaldy.
Just over a mile out from Kinghorn, there is a steep climb up to the top of a hill, to a viewpoint at the top. This is one of the last really good views back towards Edinburgh and along the rail line, while ahead you can start to see the buildings of Kirkcaldy.
The path descends again towards the beach level, and around a corner the houses at the very edge of Kirkcaldy come into view, along with the ruined Seafield Tower.
Upon a bit of searching, I discovered later that this tower is all that remains of a late medieval (sixteenth-century) castle. It was sold to the Bishop of Glasgow in 1631 and after passing through several families was allowed to deteriorate to the state it is in today.
While the day was still clear and sunny, in the distance I could see that further north and east in Fife, the experience was not the same – instead, a thick haar (Scottish fog) was layered over the coastline from Elie around to Tayport.
From where I stood, I could just see Largo Law rising above the clouds.
And here I’ll take a break for a short opinion poll – let me know your answer in the comments!
Would you rather be able to see the end of your walk, even if it is several miles away, or would you rather have no idea how much longer you have to go?
As I walked towards Kirkcaldy, I could see in the distance the faint outline of Ravenscraig Castle, and the much more prominent high-rises of the Ravenscraig flats, which I knew were my goal but still seemed a long way away. Fortunately, I was distracted by how lovely the beach and coast are. It was approaching low tide so there was an expanse of sand, interspersed with rocky outcroppings. The old sea wall is still present though large portions have been washed away, creating dramatic gaps through which to see the view. Above me on the top of the hill to the left were increasingly well-appointed houses, many with large balconies overlooking the ocean.
Once past the old sea wall, the path continues along the beach which is now completely sandy, and was already starting to become busier with poeple eager to enjoy the sun.
I found the coastal path to be less well sign-posted here, and eventually had to look up the proper route on my phone, as I walked along the grass at the edge of the beach, past the car park for Seafield beach. There is a large Morrisons here, and officially the coastal path leads up to the left and around the store and car park. This is a good spot to stop for a snack or cold drink, if you need it. There is also, I am relatively certain, a route that takes you between Morrisons and the beach – or you can walk on the beach of course – but I was doing my best to follow the ‘official’ trail that loops around and then follows the main road past a Lidl supermarket.
There is no need to cross the road – stay on the Morrisons side and follow the sidewalk (or pavement, for the Brits) around the edge of the car park – this is now the A921.
In short time, the road crosses a small burn – Tiel Burn – and here there are public restrooms should you need them. At this point, the path is not well-marked at all, but I determined that it made sense to swing to the right and follow the seawall at the edge of the beach, onto Kirkcaldy Esplanade.
I admit to being really impressed with how well-kept the esplanade is, especially as it was first built just over 100 years ago. Stretching for just about a mile, it is wide pedestrian route with a relatively new seawall separating it from the sandy beach. There are periodic breaks in the wall for paths down to the beach, and very recent additions to the pavement in the form of games to entertain children. There was a world map, several hopscotch outlines, suggestions of places to run, hop and skip, and much more, all brightly painted in clear colours.
Beside the pedestrian area is the busy A921, and across the road a series of shops, parking areas, and some apartment blocks. As I walked along the coast, I began to notice wisps of mist blurring the view – while not a full-on haar, there were gentle clouds rising from the sand and hovering in the still air. While it did not come together into a total blockage of the sun, the mist was gathering more heavily, and as I reached the end of the esplanade, the sea wall at the far end of the beach was hard to see.
At the end of the esplanade is the Heart of Kirkcaldy, a famous art installation that is popular with selfie-takers, and here I started again seeing signs for the Coastal Path. Rather than following the coastline around to the right, the path crosses at the stoplight and heads straight along the A921. Here there is an odd mix of much older buildings on one side of the street – 17th and 18th century – and very new apartment blocks on the other, as all of Williamson’s Quay is much more modern accommodation.
About five minutes later, there are two onward alternatives, marked by a pedestrian crossing. One is to continue straight up the hill ahead, along the road. The other is to take a right and then almost immediate left past the Carr’s Flour plant, and along the coast. I have to admit to getting this bit wrong, as the Coastal Path signs seemed to point directly into the factory grounds, and were a touch vague. So, I deviated from the path and went straight up the hill which is quite steep and a good long climb, especially after walking for about 4 miles.
My goal for the end of this walk was Ravenscraig Castle, a mostly-ruined edifice at the edge of Ravenscraig park. I did just see it from the road, but realised as I planned my route to it that I had firstly lost the Fife Coastal Path but perhaps more importantly, was about to miss the only bus I could get in that hour. So, I took a quick picture from across the burial ground then legged it across the street to the bus shelter, where a kind woman assured me that the bus had not yet come.
On the rather long and winding bus trip back to St Andrews, I was able to see just how all-pervasive the hair had become in Fife, with heavy clouds of mist reaching over the land from the coast and settling into valleys.
Observations on this section of the path are that the first section, which reminded me of many others with rocky beach and grassy slope, was a much shorter part of the 4 miles than I realised; instead, at least half of the walk ran through Kirkcaldy, both the along the beach and then the Esplanade. It’s a less nature-focussed walk, but the views are impressive and it was a good way to get back into my habit of waking on a Saturday and getting moving.
So, I shall soon have to repeat this section of the walk and actually visit Ravenscraig Castle, then make my way along the coast towards East Wemyss – who knows, perhaps next weekend?
The Wandering Medievalist 