Edinburgh - Figgate Burn microadventure

I live in Portobello, Edinburgh’s seaside village. One of the best things about living here is the sandy beach. Anyone who walks the beach here will know that at one point you have to get wet feet crossing a small stream that empties into the North Sea. That stream is the Figgate Burn and for some time I’d had the idea to make a wee journey along its course, from its source in the Pentland Hills to its outflow close to my home here in Portobello.

The Figgate Burn has a couple of name changes over its course but is essentially 9 miles long and forms up near Bonaly in the Pentland Hills from the waters of Bonaly Reservoir and Howden Burn. It drains an area of almost 12 square miles and much of its catchment is urban. For my microadventure along the Figgate, I chose Allermuir Hill as my starting point as below its slopes is the source of the Howden Burn. On a cold, crisp, late winter morning I walked up Allermuir’s steep slopes on grass that was crunchy underfoot after a hard frost. Allermuir is only 493m high but its slightly isolated position at the northern end of the 25km Pentlands ridge, affords great views. 

This morning the air clarity was superb and I could see north to the snow-covered hills of Angus, Perthshire and Callander. I could even see Ben Lomond today, its snow-capped pointed peak looking Himalayan in character. The rest of the Pentlands range stretched westwards, its shades and contours delicately picked out in the soft, early morning light.

A descent westwards from Allermuir took me passed the deep cut formed by the early waters of the Howden Burn, then a stiff climb took me up and over Capelaw Hill to look down on the Figgate’s other source, Bonaly Reservoir. The water of the reservoir held a thin veneer of ice that reflected the low sun with an ethereal, ghostly glow. A steep stony track drops down from Bonaly into the woods. I’d left my bicycle here and jumped back on it now to travel the rest of the route on two wheels.

A bit of zig-zagging through the houses at Bonaly took me back to the banks of the Howden Burn as it gathered a bit of volume and cut a quiet route through the woods at Dreghorn. The low-angled sun cast long tree shadows across the water as I cycled along a dirt trail that eventually took me into Covenanters Wood. The wood takes its name from the Battle of Rullion Green in 1666 when 3000 soldiers of the Royal Scottish Army opposed 900 Covenanter rebels in the culmination of the brief Pentland Rising.

Beyond Covenanters Wood, the Bonaly and Howden Burns join to form the Braid Burn which then passes through modern housing. Despite the urban sprawl, there was always a way to cycle alongside the water and eventually I was pedalling into the lovely parklands of Braidburn Valley Park. The river meandered through this green valley and I stopped cycling to enjoy the open view back to the Pentland Hills under a warm sun.

A bit of a brush with busy roads took me to the next, and perhaps most beautiful, section of the route, the Hermitage of Braid. I had company for this section as I was joined by mum and her husband, Dougie – the wide, well-made trail was perfect for his mobility scooter. The Hermitage of Braid is a deep, dark defile cut in the last ice age by the flow of glacial meltwater. Today the warm rays of the sun didn’t reach many of its inner recesses so a cold chill hung in the still air that felt like a distant breath from the ice age. 

On one side the Hermitage is bounded by the Braid Hills and on the other by Blackford Hill, once the site of an ancient hill fort. Where the Hermitage broadened slightly and the sun’s rays bathed the woods, we stopped to look at a landscape feature called the Agassiz Rock. Its exposed face provided the first evidence of the action of glaciers to be found in Scotland and was discovered by Swiss geologist, Louis Agassiz.

Leaving the Hermitage, my bike route continued across Inch Park, leaving the Braid Burn for a little while as it disappeared under Cameron Toll. The rocky, knobbly top of Arthurs Seat towered above the allotments here as people dug the earth, busily tidied and stretched stiff backs. I crossed the burn again as it completed a big meander around Duddingston Golf Course. 

As the waters enter Duddingston, they undergo a further name change and become the Figgate Burn, named after the Figgate Whins which at one time covered the banks in its lower reaches. I cycled the bike route alongside the river as it passed down through the beautiful Figgate Park. With its woodland edge and large pond, it’s a mecca for wildlife with many types of birds, bats and foxes. Even otters are spotted here.

On the far side of Figgate Park I entered Portobello and cycled along the old cobbles of Brighton Place, a wide street that gives a narrow slice of a view back to the Pentland Hills. I turned into Rosefield Park which Figgate Burn crosses before cutting a secret route behind Adelphi Place. Here it can only be spotted from a couple of open bridges that are hidden away amongst the houses. As the sun started to sink and the cold of the morning began to seep back, I ended my journey on Portobello Promenade where the Figgate Burn finally empties into the sea.

Fact File

All the photos on Flickr - click here.
Start: Bonaly Country Park

Finish: Portobello Promenade

Transport: I cycled to the car park at Bonaly but it’s also accessible by Lothian Buses route number 10.

Map: For the Pentland Hills I used OS Landranger 66. For following the route across the city, I used the Maps With Me mobile app for the level of detail required.

Route: From the car park at Bonaly continue up the steep track then turn left after a small building. Follow this path as it contours round the hillside and eventually drops down to an open field. Turn right along the more faint path that crosses the field and picks up another track as it enters woods. Turn right and follow this track up hill, passed another small building and up the Dreghorn Drop to a pass between Allermuir and Capelaw hills. Turn east up a clear path to the top of Allermuir, then descend back to the track and climb Capelaw. Continue west along the path which drops down to a wider path, turn right and follow the woodland edge. Go through a gate and follow this track back to the car park at Bonaly.

I did the rest of the journey by bike as follows. Continue down the road, across the bridge over the bypass and into Bonaly. Take a right immediately after the school then another right, then another right to pick up a path that passes into the woods. Turn right and go down some steps then turn left after crossing a wee wooden bridge. Follow this track passed new housing and where it appears to end at a road, go straight across and pick up another trail that continues through Covenanters Wood. On exiting the far end of Covenanters Wood turn right on Redford Road. You’ll shortly come to a nursing home and at the back of the car park is a sign and entrance point for Redford Woods. Follow the trail and soon join the Back Path. Follow the path along the burn, switching sides a couple of times. It eventually emerges at Oxgangs Avenue opposite the entrance to Braidburn Valley Park. Cross the road and cycle through the park. On exiting the park, turn right onto the road and go straight on at the traffic lights. At the next junction turn right and then quickly turn left into the Hermitage of Braid. Cycle the length of the Hermitage to eventually join Blackford Glen Road. Agassiz Rock is on the left near the old quarry between Scout Bridge and Howe Dean Path. Cycle straight on at the traffic lights onto Kirk Brae then take the first left onto Double Hedges Road. Turn left onto Gilmerton Road then first right into Inch Park. Follow the drive and when it exits onto Old Dalkieth Road, turn right. Take a quick left onto the bike path through Craigmillar Castle woods and when it exits onto Peffermill Road turn left and use the cycle crossing to take the next right. Where the road swings right, take the bike path straight ahead. Turn left onto Duddingston Road West and immediately after the school, turn right onto Cavalry Park Road. Where it does a sharp right, take a dirt path straight on. It joins a road that crosses Duddingston Golf Course and passes over the burn. Turn left onto Milton Road West and at the next traffic lights, turn right onto Duddingston Road. Enter Figgate Park on the left and cycle along the main track. On exiting at the far end, turn right and then left at the traffic lights onto Brighton Place. Turn left into West Brighton Crescent and then right into Rosefield Park. On exiting the park turn left and at the end of the street cross the burn by a pedestrian bridge. Turn right onto Adelphi Place and turn left onto Portobello High Street. Turn right onto Bridge Street and cycle onto the prom. It’s here that the Figgate Burn joins the sea.

Montrose - Sea, land, mud, sand

Boundaries are always rich places where the fauna and flora of one habitat meet and mix with that of another. Montrose Basin on the Angus coast is a tidal basin with a narrow neck of river connecting it to the sea. Washed twice daily by the tides, it's neither land nor sea but a place of shifting boundaries.

I arrived by train - the railway spans the river and you can get off right on the edge of the basin. It was low tide so mud flats, shingle beds and the fast-flowing waters of the River South Esk were fully exposed. Mud covering an area equal to 1500 football pitches was picked over by curlews, oystercatchers, redshanks, greenshanks and godwits. Set against a range of snow-covered hills to the north, it was a beautiful scene.

I cycled to the far side of the basin under big blue skies and along tracks that cut across fields still flooded from the storms at the turn of the year. A pair of little grebes bobbed and dived on the river while shelducks gathered on the salt marsh. By the time I cycled back to Montrose, the tide was high and the basin had become a little loop of lassoed North Sea. Huge flotillas of eider ducks clustered on the water and sleek, long-necked cormorants fished below.

At the boundaries of the basin are watery reed beds. I watched a kingfisher here for ages. It hovered above a pool, dived, came up with a fish, whacked it on a log then manouvered it the right way around so the scales would slide easily down its gullet.

If the basin at Montrose is a fluid, ephemeral boundary then the beach at St Cyrus, a few miles cycle up the coast, is a more defined one. Here the land gives way suddenly to the sea in a line of tall, rocky outcrops. With low tide again, there were miles of pristine sandy beach to wander along. The sun shone, the gorse showed some early yellow flowers and seabirds were forming pairs on ledges in the crags above. It might have been spring but for the deep, steely-blue clouds that passed over in waves sending down flurries of wind-driven snow.

At the far end of the beach, I found a grassy path that meandered back through an area of rough scrubland between the beach and the crags. Old huts here were the remains of fishing stations and ancient paths zig-zagged up where the crags relented to the village above. 

Further along, it was a surprise to come across a quaint old cemetery at the foot of the crags, its gravestones weather by the elements and camouflaged by coats of lichen. I stopped a while with the sun on my face and screwed up my eyes, trying to imagine this place in days of old when people might have hauled in nets or laboriously climbed the steep paths carrying huge creels of fish. It was easy to imagine because the links to the past could still be seen today and I felt like I was standing on another boundary. The boundary of time between my modern life and an older, harder existence. 

Fact File

More photos on Flickr - click here.

Transport: Edinburgh/Glasgow to Aberdeen trains stop at Montrose. The station is right on the edge of the basin and the bridge over the platfoms is a great viewing spot.

Map: OS Landranger 54

Routes:

Montrose Basin - On exiting the station head straight across the small roundabout with geese sculptures and swing right to the Tesco store. Opposite it is a park with a cycle path through it. Follow the cycle signs/path south over the bridge to Ferryden and then along the side of the A92. In about 1km is the Scottish Wildlife Trust centre with outdoor hide, indoor panoramic viewing window, telescopes and hot drinks. From here I continued along the cycle path beside the A92 (bit narrow in spots) then turned off at Maryton and followed lovely quiet back roads to Bridge of Dun. Take a right immediately after crossing the railway and you soon come to a SWT car park. You can cycle along the wide path and then tracks out to the two hides here - follow the signs. It's a decent walk if you're on foot with great open views. I returned via the same route.

St Cyrus Beach - Pick up national cycle route no. 1 at the bridge over the estuary in Montrose. It follows a lovely traffic-free route round the edge of town. Immediately after the amateur football ground don't take the signed route left as there is currently a diversion in place but continue straight on along the concrete airstrip (now closed to air traffic!). It eventually swings left and picks up the cycle route again after the closed section. Follow the signed cycle route through lovely pine woods and over a viaduct then along a quiet B road to the visitor centre for St Cyrus beach. I chained the bike up here. Set out along the main path and cross a bridge over marshy pools to get to the beach. At the top end of the beach a steep path comes down from the village. Here you'll find the start of a grassy path back to the start through the scrub below the crags. It's a delightful walk.

Meall nan Eagan - The Dircs

I've discovered a cluster of wonderful, little hills, to the northwest of Dalwhinnie. They are small hills but feel wild and rugged, and have two fabulous landscape features. I walked there in mid January, lugging camping kit and Christmas cake.

Snow and ice scrunched under my boots as I walked into the hills alongside the partially frozen waters of the Allt an t'Sluic,  using an old drovers route through to Laggan. It was a quiet place gripped in the stillness of a cold winter's day. The glen was devoid of life except for a few deer scraping back the snow for some meagre grazing. Ice was draped over the rocks like sheets over fine furniture in an empty house. There was not a breath of wind to stir the winter-bare birches and the only sound was the tinkle of the river where it wasn't locked in ice.

After a while the glen opened out to a high heather moor. The snow-capped rocky peak of Meall nan Eagan rose above while the southerly boundary of this high valley was formed by the snowy flanks of the Fara with its lower skirt of forest. But the place was dominated by two gigantic gashes up ahead, the Dirc Mhor and the Dirc Beag. These ancient glacial melt water channels had sliced through the hills leaving behind two massive cracks in the landscape. It's hard to imagine the power of natural forces that can slice a mountain in two.

l pitched the tent in this big open space, forcing tent pegs into semi-frozen ground, then easily climbed Meall nan Eagan. It's snow was deep and soft in some places but shallow and wind-scoured in others. I put on snowshoes a few hundred metres before the top as the sun glinted briefly through a grey sky, bronzing the snow-speckled moorland below. There was a panorama of snow-covered mountains all around but their tops were cut off abruptly by a ceiling of low cloud.

From the top of the hill I could look into the Dirc Mhor and the Dirc Beag. Their eerie recesses were filled with loose scree and a jumble of massive boulders. They looked rough and wild, and dark and foreboding. I couldn't believe I'd traversed the Dirc Mhor a few years ago as from here it looked quite impassable. That was also the opinion of my companions at the time by the end of it. But I'd loved its primeval, lost world atmosphere.

I dropped down off the hill and crossed frozen cascades of water to reach the bottom of the Dirc Beag. It revealed a secret birch wood whose leafless branches added their delicate, purple hue of winter to an otherwise monochrome landscape. I found the Dirc's outflow and followed it downstream. In some places it ran clear and fast, and in other places it disappeared under bridges of ice. It was soon swollen by the outflow of the Dirc Mhor then wounds its way down ice-encrusted and snow-dusted moorland back to my tent. It provided the water for a warming pot of tea, enjoyed with the last of the Christmas cake and a view through snow flurries back to the Dircs.

More photos on Flickr click here.

Fact File

Start/finish: Dalwhinnie Train Station

Map: OS Landranger 42

Route: On leaving the station continue down Station Road and turn left on the main street. Follow this road passed the distillery, over the railway and up the steep road that continues to Laggan. A short way up the road take the drovers' route to the left signed for Feagour. When it reaches a cottage, take the left fork. The track soon ends but becomes a footpath. When it peters out, climb the bank to your right to regain the original track. It continues criss-crossing the Allt an t'Sluic but there is always a bit of a footpath on the right side. At the head of the glen, the track ends, the terrain opens out and I pitched the tent here. I continued across rough moorland and climbed up the east side of Meall nan Eagan. I left the top heading northwest for a few hundred metres to avoid crags on the south side then descended west to a broad bealach with the Dirc Mhor and Dirc Beag above. Following the outflow back to the tent provided good walking. I returned to Dalwhinnie by the same route.

Tip: Great collection of old photos in the waiting room at Dalwhinnie Station. 

Gear Review - Endura Urban Flipjak Cycling Jacket

I've been on lots of hillwalks but I've never been on a catwalk. The reasons are obvious if you'd care to look at any photo of me! So the review of this reversible cycle jacket may in fact be my one and only modelling assignment.

I picked up the Endura Urban Flipjack jacket a few weeks before Christmas and I've barely been out of it since. I absolutely love it. I've found its reversible option incredibly practical. One side is a high visibility pink outer with reflective details. In the men's version it's a bright green. The other side is a casual-looking black outer. The jacket is filled with Primaloft and is really cosy. It's not often that you'll find yourself wanting to cycle in such a warm jacket so it's more suited to shorter, gentler rides where you're heading to a destination or activity that's mostly off-bike. I've used it a lot for cycling to my local birdwatching spot or visits to the folks. I cycle in the pink side and on arrival flip to the black side to either blend in with the landscape or look more casual for townie activities like going for coffee.

Each side has a zipped chest pocket and an insulated grown-in hood. The black casual side also has two zipped hand pockets. Both materials are wind and water resistant. I have found the high viz cycling side to be more so which makes sense and it shakes off a light shower. Whilst it doesn't pack down really small, it does squash up into the hood for throwing in the barbag. For women it comes in sizes XS to L and for men in sizes S to XXL. I bought the jacket for £94 at Edinburgh Bicycle Co-op.

I want to thank my friend Graham for taking the photos. And now that's the modelling assignment over, it's back to the outdoors ... more lichen and moss than Kate Moss.

North Berwick Law - Selection pack

At the farthest away corner of East Lothian where the lands starts its southward turn, is a perfect cone-shaped little hill called North Berwick Law. It's a familiar point of reference in my local landscape here around Portobello and yet somehow, I'd missed climbing it over the years. Luckily the festive holidays freed up a bit of time as the Law makes a great little walk with a selection of landscape delights crammed into one miniature package.

North Berwick Law is a plug of ancient volcanic rock exposed by glaciers grinding away the surrounding softer layers. The word "law" is an old Scots word meaning "hill", usually applied to conical shaped hills. North Berwick Law like many other pointed little hills was once used as a beacon hill to send messages across the land by lighting fires on top. But it's human history stretches back farther than that with evidence of settlements around the base of the hill dating as far back as 2000 years ago.

It was a beautiful winter's morning as I set out up the steep climb, with the sun barely dragging itself above the Lammermuir Hills to the south. Behind me there was laid out a patchwork of fields of golden stubble, fresh green grass and rich, dark ploughed earth. To the west and hazy in the low sun were the Pentland Hills and Arthur's Seat, Edinburgh's own ancient volcano. After a zig-zagging grassy path and then a short scramble over rocks, I was on the wind-blasted summit. To the north the clustered houses of the town filled the space between the foot of the Law and the old harbour. To the east, the Bass Rock sat offshore, solid and solitary.

Probably the most famous feature of North Berwick Law is its whalebone arch. The arch currently in position is thankfully made of fibreglass. But until 2005 there had been a real whalebone arch here since 1709. It was said that it formed a landmark to guide sailors home. The top of the hill is also cluttered with an old lookout station dating from the Napoleonic wars and an observation post used during the two world wars.

I dropped down off the east side of the hill and followed a path through sparse trees and across green fields before crossing the town and popping out on the beach. Waves washed the golden sands and crashing, white surf blasted the offshore rocks. People surfed, ate picnics and played ball games as if it was a summer's day. But it was mid winter and as I looked back, the sun only just cleared the pointed top of the Law. It cast across the town a long, Law-shaped shadow. 

Fact File

Start/finish: North Berwick Railway Station

Transport: Regular trains from Edinburgh Waverley. You can also take the X24 or 124 Lothian buses from Edinburgh city centre.

Map: OS Landranger 66

Route: On exiting the train station turn right up Station Road which becomes Marmion Road and at a sharp bend, hang right. Take Law Road to the right at the next junction. Once you are passing the school you can pick up a footpath on the left side of the road signed for the John Muir Way. Follow the footpath to a small car park and go through the gate at the far side. The route to the top of the Law is signed. For the return I took a path to the left where the main path does a sharp dog leg. Follow it east until it joins a track along a field margin then a road through some cottages. There is a dovecot in the field here on your right. It then joins the B road that becomes Heugh Brae which I followed into town. I went straight on at a small roundabout then crossed a park with tennis courts on the right exiting onto Marine Parade from where you can get onto the beach. Walking west along the beach takes you to the old harbour and the popular Seabird Centre. 

Aberlady - Out on the bay

Winter is when I always find myself at Aberlady Bay. In the cold months the shallows and mudflats are picked over by thousands of waders, constantly moving and probing. There is always something to see. The calls of curlews can be heard as well, carried on stiff winds that clip the small trees and bushes into eastwards straggling topiary. And at dusk the skies fill with noisy winter geese, their neat skeins silhouetted against golden clouds.

A walk to the bay starts at the old wooden bridge that crosses the river. It has weathered into its position over the years and the elements have faded the wood so it looks like old bone. I look down between the slats and today, after the rains, the water is fast and muddy, the colour of a strong white tea.

On the other side of the bridge the trail passes through dense thickets of sea buckthorn. It forms a tunnel around the path and even on the wildest day, it blocks the wind. Small unseen birds twitter deep inside. In winter the sea buckthorn is covered with dazzling orange berries and today they contrast with a blue sky above.

Beyond here the trail opens out onto grasslands and dunes and big skies. The grasses catch the peachy winter sunlight and bend and sway in the wind. The path climbs over the dunes and drops steeply to the vast sandy beach. In places the sand is scoured smooth by the wind and in other places it's rippled by the receeding tide.

The biting cold winds push frothy white waves into shore and the sea is turbulent and wild. Across the water to the north is the dark outline of the low hills of Fife. To the west the Edinburgh hills, Arthur's Seat and the Pentlands, are hazy in the golden light of the sinking sun.

Fact File
Start/finish: Aberlady
Transport: Bus 124/x24 from Princes Street to Aberlady
Route: Get off the bus at the bus stop after the double bend on the main street and continue walking around the edge of the bay on the footpath beside the road. At a small car park which also has cycle parking, cross the wooden bridge over the river. Follow the main trail and at the first split stay left. At the next path junction take the track to the left towards the bay along the edge of a field and follow it to the beach. You can vary the return by taking one of the paths that leaves the beach over the dunes and returns to the bridge.

Winter gear reviews

With winter approaching, I thought I'd re-post my favourite winter kit reviews from last year. Top tip? Those Icetrekkers Diamond Grip are the best buy ever.

Icetrekkers Diamond Grip shoe grips

TSL Snowshoes

Mountain Equipment Guide Gloves

Enjoy :-)
Pauline