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?
Here are my top 3 most interesting facts about El Yunque:
It is the only tropical rainforest in the National Forest system (there are other rainforests, but not tropical).
It is one of the smallest National Forests in area, but the most biologically diverse with more than 240 species of trees, 23 of which only grow here. And saving the best for last!
There are NO mosquitos in this tropical forest (or very few), making it the perfect spot for hiking!
No mosquitos, I hear you ask skeptically?! It’s really true – a combination of the elevation, the slightly cooler climate, natural predators and the lack of stagnant water means that you will not be bothered by mosquitos while you take advantage of the glorious scenery, even if you forget your bug spray. The same is obviously very much not true on most of the island.
History of El Yunque
El Yunque (pronounced with the Spanish ‘y’ that sounds like a ‘j’) is one peak in the Sierra de Luquillo mountains, a subrange of the Cordillera Central mountain range that runs along the centre of the island of Puerto Rico. The peak reaches just short of 3,500 ft. (1,066 m).
The name of ‘Yunque’ may have come from the Spanish for ‘anvil’, or perhaps from a native name Yuken – there are several archaeological sites on the mountain. The view of the mountain from the nearby beaches shows how starkly it stands out against the horizon, forcing planes from San Juan to Vieques to fly around rather than over; it is frequently shrouded in clouds, even on sunny days.
view of El Yunque from the beaches at Fajardo and Luquillo
Coffee was cultivated on its steep slopes in the 1730s, but from then it was mostly left on its own, until it was set aside in 1876 by King Alfonso XII of Spain – one of the first forest reserves in the western hemisphere. In 1898, Puerto Rico was transferred to the United States, and this was one of the only areas where the forest had not been cut down. Teddy Roosevelt established the Luquillo Forest Reserve in 1903, and in time this became the National Forest we have today. The forest suffers regular damage from hurricanes and other storms ( in fact it had been quite badly damaged at the time of our visit in January 2018), but things grow fast in the Caribbean, and it recovers quickly. Roads and pathways less so, and even now there are still hiking paths that cannot be traversed.
Hiking in El Yunque National Forest
I have always loved hiking here, where it is usually the perfect combination of warm but not too hot, sheltered from the sun, and gently breezy. It is not uncommon to experience a brief rain shower (or sometimes not so brief, or not so light), but the weather dries you quickly.
There are plenty of paths of various lengths, as you can see, and while many are not particularly long, it is important to pay attention to the altitude change. Most vary between gently and quite steep, and hikers should be prepared to ascend and descend significantly even on shorter paths.
The popularity of the El Yunque trails was evident when I visited recently with Dad – he had insisted that we leave the house early and be at the main gate of the park by 8am, and sure enough there was a line of cars waiting to get in. By the time we left a few hours later, most of the parking had been taken up, even as far up the mountain as we were. So, a few pointers to keep in mind when planning a trip to El Yunque:
Do arrive early, and be prepared to drive for a bit. The roads are narrow and winding, and we drove for almost 20 minutes inside the park before reaching the parking lot.
Bring plenty of water – more than you might think, as the air sucks water out of you – and a snack. There is a café and a few small shops off the road, but a good rule of thumb in Puerto Rico is not to depend on them being open when you want. (That said, when they are open, there are some great options for souvenirs, so make sure you have your wallet)
Wear sneakers, not sandals or flip-flips. Your feet might get warm, but you will need them – the trail can be rough, narrow, and slippery in places. You will not get far without injury in sandals.
Likewise, prepare for those shoes to get muddy, and potentially stained with the orange-red clay that makes up many of the trails. I had to scrub my legs with a washcloth to get the mud off my skin, so it’s much worse for material.
You don’t need bug spray, but you might need sun block. Puerto Rican sun is strong even through the trees.
Check early on if the trail you want to hike is open. There is a lot of work being done just now, so have a second option just in case.
Expect to get rained on. It might not happen, but it probably will.
Don’t necessarily expect a view from ‘the top’. As stated above the peaks of El Yunque are often in the clouds.
And finally…bring your camera! The flora you will see is incredibly beautiful, and when there is a view, you can see to the ocean in several directions, up to sharp peaks, or just along the tops of the trees into the distance.
One item to note – at most of the larger parking areas, there are rest rooms available.
My most recent hike – Los Picachos
I just so happened to be in Puerto Rico for Father’s Day this year, and so being us, we chose a hike in the rainforest as our Father’s Day outing. We got up early to get to the entrance to the park, which is most commonly accessed through Palmer, up route 191. We got to the gate a bit before 8am and so parked with the other hikers for a few minutes at a small outcrop that offered some good views out across the island, and of one of the several viewpoint towers. The road often circles through and around these enormous bamboo stands, as well, which I have always thought beautiful.
In time we were allowed into the park and followed a caravan of cars up to the parking lot just below El Baño Grande, a former swimming pool constructed in the 1930s that includes an overflow dam surrounded by foliage.
There is a very short walk around the edge of the pool, and also a trail that branches off to the right, leading towards the peak and Los Picachos – this was our route. Los Picachos is a ridge made up of a series of smaller peaks, just next to the El Yunque peak.
The path starts off very even and neat, though relatively quickly begins an ascent up away from the road. While the track is not particularly long – it says 2.4 miles to the top – it is very winding and quite steadily going up. In places the trail is very well-kept, graded and covered with pebbles that make for easy walking, but the higher it goes, the more traditional hiking trail it becomes – narrow, alternately rocky and muddy. But, the surroundings are stunning (and on more than a few occasions I nearly fell while being distracted) – deep palm forests, banana trees, small streams so dry they are barely visible, others that form little waterfalls, moss and rotting stumps, tree trunks with orchids growing out of them, and everywhere, flowers. Small, large, many different colours (though many are pink), most of them wild and as elusive as the fauna you can hear but seldom see. On previous walks I had caught sight of gecko and coqui (tree frogs), but the trail was a bit too busy on this trip.
Just about 1.5 miles up, the trail we were on came to a T, with one side heading to Los Picachos and one to the Britton Tower viewpoint. A slightly worse-for-wear shelter with what had once been a fireplace offered a resting spot, before we pushed on towards Los Picachos.
Where the trail splits.
On the day we hiked, as you will see in the pictures, the higher we went, the wetter we got – it was a combination of rain and just mist, as we were essentially walking through clouds. Though the sign had said less than a mile to Los Picachos from our stopping point, it felt quite a bit longer, and as all of the viewpoints we found were blocked in by cloud, in the end we chose not to make the final climb up the stairs to the viewpoint.
As we hiked down – I have to admit to now understanding what I never could have while hiking as a child, that down can be harder than up with over-30s joints – the mist lifted in places and a few rays of sun broke through the trees. For the entire week I was in Puerto Rico, though, we were plagued by Sahara dust – fine particles that cross the Atlantic and cause haze or clouds. This I s a common occurrence in the summer. Not once did I see the brilliant blue Caribbean sky you often see in the winter, though that was probably better for my Scottish-sun-accustomed skin.
The path to Los Picachos also used to provide a route up to the summit, though this is now closed; it is one of several closed routes.
La Mina Waterfall hike
My father used to use the mountain as his primary form of exercise, ‘running’ up to the peak, while I chose the slightly less intense La Mina trail. While not as long, it is a steady hike down to the waterfall along a river, that upon the return is an equally steady climb that certainly gets ones heartrate up – it is classed as ‘difficult’ due to several sets of ‘winding concrete stairs that can make the return trip somewhat arduous‘.
The first time I took this hike, I was entirely on my own while Dad did his run, and I just fell in love. It was a magical tropic paradise of paths that crossed brooks and streams, passed roofed picnic shelters and towering palms. As I walked down the stairs, I got frequent views to the left of the rocky, tumbling river, which in some ways reminded me of rivers in the Highlands or New England, except with very different foliage.
At the bottom of the trail, as expected, is a beautiful waterfall that falls about 35 feet into a cool pool where I have seen hikers swimming.
Disappointingly, this trail is currently closed indefinitely.
I know that there is a lot more to this National park than the area I have visited, and I hope that in time I may be able to explore a bit more. I still have not yet managed to get to one of the towers, and while I have climbed to the summit, it was so many years ago that I cannot find the pictures. A visit is an absolute must if you are in Puerto Rico and renting a car – tear yourself away from the beaches if you can for a day, and check out the stunning rainforest! You will not regret it.
I’ve got a short video of clips taking while hiking in the rainforest:
If you had to name one stereotype about Scotland, chances are that it might include the weather. In particular, that the weather is typically cold, wet and windy – dreich as they say. But this stereotype is, I think, based more upon west coast Scottish weather than east. Dundee is known as the sunniest city in Scotland, and the past few weeks have really bucked the trend in that our weather has been quite sunny, mild, and generally beautiful. We are in fact on the verge of a drought, and not for the first time in recent history – I’ll leave my opinions on why behind for now.
So, last Saturday was another stunning sunny day, a touch hazy but nonetheless offering blue skies and a happy requirement for sunglasses and even sunblock. In all fairness, May is quite often a good month in Scotland – I remember fondly studying for my final exams in 4th year outside, getting sunburned, and then having to work out how to even out the tan before wearing a strapless dress at the grad ball. Serious problems.
Determined to get a bigger chunk of the walk done than I have previously, I once again headed for the East Neuk, this time choosing the faster X60 bus to Anstruther that cuts directly south rather than following the coast. My walk started at the far end of the harbour in Anstruther, by the Dreel Hall, which meant that the first stretch was along Shore Street.
This section of Anstruther is busy with tourist shops, restaurants, the famous Anstruther Fish Bar, and of course the harbour on the right, full of boats. I think this is probably the busiest of the East Neuk harbours, offering day trips to the Isle of May and providing a home for an active RNLI Lifeboat station.
As it was such a nice day I took a short detour to walk out the harbour wall to the end and look back on the town.
From the shore edge of the harbour, there is a great view along the coastline and also out into the Firth of Forth to the Isle of May – the latter is a popular spot for a day trip, with hiking and a large colony of puffins available for entertainment. On my bucket list!
Cellardyke
The coastal path here continues straight along the shore into the town of Cellardyke, which is immediately connected to Anstruther. Both towns have been fishing villages for centuries, and the surviving houses date from several hundred years ago to quite recently, though more of the former. Cellardyke has always reminded me of New England, with narrow winding streets and houses lined up against the shore. Occasionally between the houses is a narrow access point to the ocean beyond, offering glimpses of the glimmering water and waves.
About halfway through the village one comes across the Tollhouse and village hall, bottom right above. Here one can take a route up to the left to see a higher view (take the high road🎶) but I continued on to the right, and around half a mile after entering Cellardyke, the road reaches the harbour.
It’s not particularly large but it is active and surrounded by well-kept houses that stack closely together as they rise away from the water.
Only a few houses further along, the road opens up to a green hill on the left and the open shoreline on the right. The hill is quite steep but climbing to the top via a path or stairs allows one to view the war memorial up close, and look out over the water and tidal pool.
As you can see, it is a busy area, with bathing and water sports available, and a good-sized play park. There is also a van selling snacks, another coffee, and a shore-front eatery. Just beyond this waterfront is a well-kept caravan park with a lovely view out over the water.
After passing the caravan park, the path leads out of the village and along the coast, with the ‘usual’ beautiful views over the water and rocks. The path here is considerably flatter than the one I took the previous week, with only gentle hills until the very end. It is also quieter, and while I did pass some walkers, there were not nearly as many as on the shorter path.
About a mile beyond town, I passed Caiplie Court, a small collection of beautiful cottages with a large garden and some coos that were not feeling particularly photogenic. As the path continues, the left-hand ground begins to rise gently into hills covered with grass and yellow gorse. Just under 2 miles from the edge of Cellardyke, I noticed a low headland in the distance, ending in an outcropping of rock.
Caiplie Caves
As I hoped, this turned out to be the edge of the Caiplie Caves, a group of sandstone caves that have been linked to the early Christians in the area.
There was a group of teenagers meeting in one of the caves so I chose not to get closer, but according to Historic Environment Scotland, there are a number of crosses and even Pictish symbols carved into the rocks. The caves were likely used as chapels and perhaps even as small cells. I hope at some point to return and take a closer look!
It was about this point in the walk when I was starting to think about taking a short break, but still continued on for another half mile or so. I crossed one stone wall and then reached another with narrow steps leading up one side and down the other. From the top of the wall, I could look over the bay ahead of me which included two skeleton former houses.
Just in front of the house was a perfect place to perch for a few minutes, breezy enough to keep away some of the swarms of flies that pestered me every time the path was sheltered. In some pictures the flies are visible, and in a few I’ve removed them so as not to ruin the view. Oddly they don’t appear to be biting, just incredibly annoying as they whir around your face, ears and hair.
A bit refreshed, I continued on towards the next headland. There were a few more bays and outcroppings, and I remember distinctly being worried to check the map in case I still had miles and miles to go. Fortunately, I was doing better than I thought. I paused briefly at the bottom of a flight of stairs, allowing another couple to pass me and offer me more sun screen, though I think was red more from exertion than sun (I did slather on the SPF30 before leaving the house, even Scottish sun can burn!).
At the top of the stairs I was greeted, unbelievably, with ANOTHER path closed sign! Fortunately, this really did not impact my walk much as it had evidently been closed for some time. I took one look back to the west again before heading towards Crail, which stretched out along the coast before me.
The approach to Crail is along the edge of the cliff, with a field on the left and the edges of the town springing up in the near distance. The advantage of the cliff height is that it allows for spectacular views down over the old village, beach and harbour; I was even lucky enough to find a few splendidly red wild poppies to enhance the sight.
There is no question, this is one of those views – it appears on paintings, mugs, tea towels, calendars, any tourist memorabilia of Fife. And for good reason.
The re-routed path takes walkers through a farm gate, and along a row of houses opposite the cliff edge. After one more viewpoint, the path swings up left towards the main road – Anstruther Road. I have to admit I was not entirely certain as to the route here and had to double-check my map, as the one sign pointed haphazardly at two potential routes.
Crail
Like many of the East Neuk villages, Crail is beautifully kept with lovely gardens, expensive houses and plenty of character. It is arguably one of the more picturesque villages in the series, and it is a particular focus for the local arts community, famous for pottery in particular. In July, the town hosts an Arts Festival that draws visitors from around the world. It is not hard to see why this place would inspire artists…
The coastal path follows the Anstruther Road then turns sharply right along the aptly-named Shoregate. One of the aspects of these villages that I love the most is the myriad of closes and wynds that allow pedestrians their own routes. Often they are lined with garden walls, overflowing with trees, clematis, roses and other greenery. Shoregate tempted me with a peek at St Claire’s Wynd, but I followed the coastal path signs instead.
Now I have to admit that I did take a detour down to the harbour, though the coastal path directs walkers to take a left and hug the coast. The path to the harbour is quite steep and a good portion of it is cobbled; signs warn drivers that there is no public parking at the bottom. I certainly would not want to attempt it in a car!
The harbour is certainly worth a visit if you are able to walk down. There are several refreshment options including ice cream, access to a public toilet, and plenty of places to sit and enjoy the view. I am sure that in the summer, it is an incredibly busy spot!
I was nearing the end of the walk – and my stamina – as I turned to head back up the steeply cobbled hill, but at least I was not pushing a pram like the father behind me, who understandably had to pause several times. It was far too busy for me to explore the Crail Harbour Tearoom though it looked amazing, and as I discovered soon after, offered incredible views from its back terrace (just visible in the first photo below). Instead, I headed straight up the hill onto the path that edged around some houses.
The path is narrow here, with views across the water and back towards the harbour, with the retaining wall of the castle to the left. After curving around the corner tower that reminded me a touch of the lookout towers in San Juan, the path leads along the top of the steep grass park seen here:
And this is where I marked the end of my walk for the day – 5 good miles from start to finish, and a little more for my two short harbour detours in Anstruther and Crail. I could easily have picked up the 95 Stagecoach bus again to head back to St Andrews, but I was fortunate to have a lift.
This was a good walk, with a bit less to see than some other stretches of the path, but still very pleasant particularly on a sunny day. The water views are spectacular as the corner of Fife approaches, and both Anstruther and Crail are great towns to spend some time in.
The next stretch from Crail around to Cambo is one of the longer walks, so I may not manage that until later in the year, but the step count challenge at work is helping to get my fitness back up to scratch and I look forward to my next walk!
This segment marked another exciting moment – reaching the 100 miles to go mark! The first 17 miles seemed to go very slowly, so I hope I can pick up the pace a bit. Still…I’m getting there.
If you want to remind yourself why I’m doing these walks, check out my new page where you can keep track of my progress.
Or more exactly, Tayport Shanwell Road to Newport High Street roundabout. I had calculated the route ahead of time and expected it to be about four miles. As appears to be my habit recently, I was underestimating a touch.
This portion of the coastal path is easily accessible by public transport. I took the 42A bus (picked up in either St Andrews or Dundee) right to the Shanwell Road turning circle, location of the Foodmek manufacturing plant and one entrance to Tentsmuir Forest nature reserve. The bus from St Andrews is about 25 minutes as it winds through several villages, from Dundee closer to 10 minutes.
Very quiet bus trip
My official starting point was the bridge over a small burn; there are several displays here telling walkers about the wildlife – primarily birds – that they can enjoy if heading into Tentsmuir. In the other direction, the one I was taking, the path is well-marked and winds around between the beach and a park.
As you may have learned in my Broughty Ferry post, we lived in Tayport for just over a year, including during the first six months of the pandemic in 2020. Those of you living in the UK at that time will remember when we were permitted 30 minutes of outdoor exercise daily. For us, loops walking through Tayport were that exercise. I therefore have many pictures of the Tayport area, some significantly better than I was able to take while on this walk, as the day was overcast and windy. I’ve decided that as long as they are part of this route, it makes sense to substitute the lovely sunny views for the overcast ones.
One of the first things I noted before getting started was the significant difference visible in the treeline of Tentsmuir forest. As I noted the weekend before, there has been a significant amount of tree loss due to recent storms, and it is really evident in these two pictures. The intensity of the last storm which swept through Scotland in February actually caused a red warning for large portions of the country, with winds reaching hurricane force.
Five minutes or so after leaving the bridge, the path approaches a caravan park, and I was not certain if the coastal path route was meant to lead through the park proper, or along the edge of the seawall. For those in the US who may not be aware, caravan parks in the UK are very common holiday destinations, often located on the edge of popular towns and cities, allowing families a self-catered option for accommodation. Some caravans are permanently owned, and some are rented by the week. The Tayport park is very well-kept and beautifully manicured, and the caravans themselves almost all include a wrap-around porch for outdoor seating, as well as views over the Tay estuary. Crocus were just starting to bloom with daffodils a promised week or so behind.
I opted on this occasion to cross the small concrete bridge over the burn and follow the path along the edge of the beach, where there is a carefully-maintained sea wall and warnings not to play on the rocks or muddy sand flats below (at low tide, anyway). The view, as seen on the sunny day, is across towards Broughty Ferry and leading up the coast towards Buddon Ness and Carnoustie. This is an often busy stretch of water, with pleasure boats sometimes overshadowed by tankers or transport ships headed to Dundee. Occasionally, you can see dolphins and seals as well.
Upon emerging out the other side of the caravan park, I discovered that officially the coastal path does opt for the road, but oh well – the distance was the same either way. Ahead is a grassy park and a long seawall protecting the road from surf and curving along towards the houses of Tayport proper, ahead. The park is a popular spot for dog-walkers, but also for children as there is a pond in the middle, surrounded by reeds and acting as the home for numerous ducks and swans. During the pandemic the local school children painted stones with messages of hope and displayed them on the seawall for the community to enjoy.
From here, a walker has two options, though in fairness one is only sensible at low tide. There is a path along the wall between the houses and the ocean, though several times at high tide I found my feet damp from the waves when I chose this route. The proper route is to follow the road up and turn right along Harbour Road, through a residential area. The gardens in this stretch of town are well-kept, with lots of heather, lavender and daffodils, and looking up to the left affords a view of the way houses stack up the hill, with narrow roads between. Some of the bungalows along the waterfront are really beautiful, with gardens that face the ocean, but the seaside-dweller in me is a bit reluctant to trust being quite that close to the surf.
In a short time, one approaches Tayport Harbour, which was the site of one end of the ferry that carried rail cars across the Tay before the bridge was built. As one sees in Broughty Ferry, there is a wide ramp leading into the harbour which is still busy with fishing boats, pleasure sailing vessels, and of course ducks, swans, and the occasional seal. I loved lying in our house and listening to the halyards slapping against the masts in summer, a throw-back to my childhood sailing.
As I walked past the harbour on this occasion, I was pleased to see that the Harbour Café was still open, and I detoured up to the Main Street temporarily to pick up some lunch for later. One of my favourite things about Tayport was just how comprehensive the tiny neighbourhood Scotmid was. In a pinch you could find meat, veg, and anything you needed to make a quick meal; the variation in things you could buy always surprised me, from yogurt to fruit and veg, meat, pasta, snacks, beer, ice cream, sweets, and of course Scottish bakery items like pies, donuts and fresh rolls. It’s a perfect place to pause if you do need a bit of refreshment, and down by the harbour is a public toilet (you can pay by card or coin) that is mostly clean.
If you need a short detour, skirt along past the toilet block to walk out the grass knoll that juts into the water here, surrounded by a stone seawall. I spent many evenings here watching the water traffic, sunset, approaching storms, and moonrise.
Across the water is Broughty Ferry and the castle, and you can often hear the train whistle drifting across the estuary on a still day.
Continuing on the path leads you through a neighbourhood of obviously older houses, built in a style reminiscent of the fishing villages of New England, though of different material. Shortly, the path cuts up to the left between some houses, and leads through a set of bushes up to the road. One of my favourite views is just a bit further up on the right, standing at the edge of the steep cliffs and looking back at Tayport village and the view out to sea.
Following the signs for the coastal path takes walkers down a short decline, and here the path splits into – to paraphrase – the high road and low road.
The low road stretches out another half mile or so along the coast, through some woods and past several groupings of houses, some of which we watched being built through the pandemic. There are also two old lighthouses, one grey and one white, which I frequently photographed from the rocky beach below. In fact, this was a good loop for us as there is a path where the lower road ends, that cuts up to the main route. But I’m getting distracted.
The higher route is the proper coastal path and runs through a wooded area. It is well-paved here and worth remembering that it is also a cycle path that is very well-used; while in my opinion it would be ideal always for cyclists to alert you to their presence by use of a bell, but far too many seem to assume you will hear them and just speed past.
On my walk I was pleasantly surprised to find the hills liberally covered with snowdrops, standing out from the grey-brown winter brush. Gradually the road rises above the coastal path, which quiets and becomes very peaceful.
A little aside here about Tayport, which I have massive affection for. The town is an odd mix of beautifully kept older houses and also a number of newer, less affluent neighbourhoods. The closer you get to the harbour, the less affluent the housing becomes, while walking up to the top of the hill allows you to pass by some almost mansion-like houses clearly built by rich families from Dundee during its more prosperous era. There is some really lovely architecture and gardening, and houses from a number of different eras.
As the coastal path leaves Tayport, it crosses several wooden-edged bridges, and as the houses vanish into fields, you start to get a view down towards the water, and a pasture on the left where miniature horses live. Shortly beyond the horses, the wall of the town cemetery rises up from the hill, and you can see Dundee and the Tay Road bridge in the distance.
If you are planning a Tayport loop this is another place where you can cut up through the cemetery to the main road, or here you are about one mile from the bridge. The trees disappear into open fields, and the wind will hit a bit harder and make it colder than when the path was protected by woodland. You will be able to catch sight of the tall Scots pines of the Scotscraig estate on the top of the hill – I had always wanted to walk through the estate but it was closed during the pandemic; it looks open again now.
Presently the coastal path moves up closer to the road, though there is still a solid stone wall between walkers and traffic – a relief as the cars to tend to zip along this stretch quickly. It’s a bit less peaceful with the road noise, though many of course choose to walk with headphones in, I generally prefer not to.
There are a few small groupings of houses on the upper side of the road, and in a short time the path approaches the Tay bridge; this is an excellent place to park or pick up the bus.
At the top car park, there is a public toilet and a stand that sells snacks and drinks, always smelling delectably of Scottish square sausage and bacon. My walk took me straight along the path however, and as you pass under the bridge, you get an excellent view of the structure and pylons. This is also where the town of Newport begins; immediately there is a stark change in architecture.
Stone steps leading from Newport to the bridge car park
The main road of Newport, along which the coastal path leads, is a lovely mix of beautiful old stately houses and more modern homes designed to fit in with the coastal surroundings. Gardens are well-tended, and the traffic slows well down as the road narrows to just allow two vehicles to pass.
It is hard not to enjoy this part of the walk, about half a mile of enviable residences with a myriad of architectural quirks.
In about five minutes, the houses on the coast side disappear and there is a narrow park with steep stairs allowing access to the rocky coastline, and views westward to the rail bridge and the coast of Fife.
For my walk, I decided that my stopping point was the War Memorial, just short of the main roundabout in the village. This part of Newport is the High Street and boasts some lovely independent shops and bakeries; I chose to sit on a bench looking over the view and enjoy the lunch I had picked up back in Tayport – the Scottish invention I still marvel has not crossed the Atlantic: a macaroni pie.
God’s food, the macaroni pie (yes, macaroni cheese in a portable pastry shell)
I really enjoyed this portion of the coastal path, and it was a good distance for a Saturday morning. Once I had walked back to the bridge to wait for my bus home I was getting closer to 5 miles total walked, so I decided I had well earned my carby, cheesy lunch. It’s a relatively flat walk – except for a hill in Tayport – and includes some lovely views, neighbourhoods, and some quiet woodland.
Work and life have gotten in the way of my making any more progress on the coastal path in the last week or two, but that was partly due to a trip to the Highlands which I will regale you with soon!
Oh…and my new walking/hiking boots were excellent! First time on and not a blister to be had. Well done Mountain Warehouse!
I woke up on Saturday morning and was welcomed the bright sunlight I could see peeking in around the edges of the curtains. I leapt out of bed and immediately set to work enacting my planned walk for the weekend: picking up from last weekend, I intended to walk from Earls Hall Castle to Kinshaldy Beach, a walk – I estimated – of a bit over 4 miles. It was more than I had done in one go in a while (hence fitness goals) but I thought I could manage.
So, I started off at St Athernase in the centre of Leuchars and walked the five or so minutes along the road to the castle grounds.
The day was sunny but with generous puffy clouds, and cool enough that the warmth from the sun was appreciated, as was the Vitamin D. It is worth reminding anyone that when walking along the type of narrow road this stretch requires, it is important to be on the correct side – walking against the traffic – so that you can see it approaching. I’d also caution that it’s a good time to keep your music either off or quiet enough that you can hear vehicles at a distance, as when the road is winding, they can come upon you suddenly.
Starting at the entrance to the castle estate, the Fife Coastal Path leads along the road almost due east, and the wall is just short enough that even I was able to to catch glimpses of the castle and out-buildings. As with so many Scottish estates, the wall is lined with large rhododendrons bushes that at correct time of year are, I imagine, stunning.
Not far beyond the main entrance – blocked by a massive gate house – is another exit to the estate, where you can just see hints of the wall and gardens. A short distance later, through the bushes on the other side of the road, comes into a view a beautiful old barn with several horses in the field/ The accompanying farm house is a bit less grand, but the presence of several rows of now decaying farm crofts indicate that this may have been a thriving community at one time.
On the right, it becomes increasingly clear that you are hugging the edge of Leuchars Air base; there are no pictures due to the very large, regularly repeated and threatening ‘no photos’ signs, as well as ‘no drones’ and soon, guard dog warnings.
The path skirts past a large radio tower and I started to wonder if I was lost when finally the sign appeared on a gate, directing off of the road and onto a wide farm track. This track curves several times through a beautiful stand of silver birch, passing fields of horses on the left, before going through another gate and entering the stands of tall pines.
This is about when I started to catch hints of revving from the nearby motocross track, an irritating sound when one is enjoying a nature walk, but eventually it faded into the distance. As the trees closes in around the track it became muddier – I was very happy to have my proper boots – and the revving disappeared into the increased rustling of trees from the wind. It was a bit concerning to look behind me and see dark clouds coming my way, but one of the best things about a windy day in Scotland is that dark clouds tend to be quickly blown past.
The path is straight here, with fields on one side and tall pines with underbrush of gorse along the other. I can see the appeal of doing this walk at a time of year when bugs are minimal as there are some pools of standing water and animals in the fields. I am quite allergic to gorse so was relieved to see it only just starting to flower – granted earlier in the year than I might have expected. I was making good time here, and I think it was at least partly due to my racing against the approaching rain.
About a mile or so from the castle, the path swings away from the trees and into the fields, approaching what should be a sharp left then right jog of the coastal path. However, this is here my plan ran into a hitch. Not due to impending rain, which somehow continued north and missed me completely, but because the quiet season evidently inspired the Fife Coast and Countryside Trust to do a bit of maintenance on the path.
So, as you can see, there was a detour, with a well-marked path leading in the opposite direction. But, I was stubborn and ready for an adventure, and at first glance at the picture, it did not seem as though I would be walking terribly much further than originally planned, and probably in quite similar surroundings. The purist in me will insist upon re-doing this section, but for now it was the best I could do.
Muttering slightly to myself, I set out along the farm road indicated, with fields on one side and the base on the other. It became clear that the road followed the edge of the MOD property which was appropriately signposted with threats. On both sides of the fence there was damage to trees from recent storms, but generally was a pleasant, quiet trail on which I passed only a few cyclists and one horseback rider. The aggressive signs slowly became overgrown by gorse – arguably a more effective barrier than metal fences – and on the left high grass gave way to another stand of tall, straight pines. In about 3/4 of a mile, the path heads straight into the trees and it became a really pleasant stroll through the woods. Finally, I figured, we were heading towards the coast.
Eventually.
Storm damage became more and more evident as I walked, though I also noted that this would be a stunning walk at a time of year when the heather was blooming, as it carpeted the edge of the tree line and the forest floor. This stretch through the trees was a bit longer than I expected, and then just as I wondered if I was stuck forever in the forest tunnel, I realised that behind the distant trees was the blue of the open sky. Patches of sand interrupted the dirt trail, and many more fallen trees were stacked in piles – all signs of the approaching open coastline.
About 1.5 miles from where the path should have branched off, I finally reached the beach. The view across the Eden Estuary towards St Andrews was spectacular, the sun came out just at the right time, and even the giant blocks of concrete half buried in the sand were beautiful. These blocks can be found all along this stretch of beach, constructed during World War II in the hopes that they would prevent the Germans from landing on the wide sand and rolling tanks into the farmland.
At the access point to the Estuary, there are signs informing you as to the wildlife living here, and reminding walkers to be considerate of what they find. There is also a detour sign, on this occasion, and I found myself stopping temporarily to work out how much longer I had to walk – I soon wished I had not bothered.
From this point, the path led along the edge of the trees, with dunes on the right – a pleasant view for sure.
In retrospect it may have been sensible to stop here and rest for a short while, or to stay on the beach, but I did neither of those things, instead heading onwards along the coast. It is a lovely path. The trees fall away after a while, and the path winds away from the beach into the fields; it was here I came across a small flock of sheep who were mostly unbothered and watched me as if to say, ‘what in the world are you doing here?’
I did start to wonder that, myself.
Now, I am not a completely inexperienced hiker. I know perfectly well that I should have water and even snacks for a long hike, but that was not what I intended this to be. So I bought neither, figuring I had managed 3.5 miles last weekend, I could do 4 this weekend. I will never make that daft mistake again.
Away from the beach, the trail is considerably less even away from the beach, rising up and down over small dunes and hillocks of tall grass. To the left are fields stretching to distant trees, and to the right more grass, small trees and a patch of marshland separating the trail from the beach.
Eventually the grass fades into stands of small trees, then gradually larger ones, and I was relieved to once again joined the more familiar route with pines on the left and dunes and beach on the right. I hoped, and believed, that I was getting steadily closer to the car park where my other half had promised to meet me. I wished several times that I had brought headphones, as I felt like music might have kept me going a bit better, and my old hiking boots were feeling increasingly heavy and more of a drag on my energy than helpful.
Side note, these boots are almost 20 years old and have served me very well, but they are heavy and are probably more designed for climbing hills than walking. Certainly my sore hip flexors over the next few days were an indication that it was time to be rid of them. So, this was their last hike and I have since purchased some new walking boots from Mountain Warehouse – I will be sure to report upon their success.
Back to the walk. Gradually, the number of people on the trail grew and I sensed I was getting close. Light reflecting off of unnatural surfaces glistened through the trees – cars!
I was there.
In all, I walked almost 5.5 miles, a bit longer than my intended 4. I made more than a few mistakes along the way, not the least of which was thinking I could push myself in a way I could in my 20s.
It was an enjoyable walk – until the last mile or so – and I look forward to trying it again in the summer when the boardwalk is open. It allowed me to push my limits and remember why I was doing this in the first place – to walk more, and to remind myself just how unprepared I am for a longer trek. But I’ll get there.
And I’ll bring snacks.
This weekend’s walk total (considering that only a portion of this walk was actually on the official Coastal Path):
The Wandering Medievalist 