Lomond Hills - Raw

Raw is the word that describes that early January day in Fife’s Lomond Hills. Not just in terms of the weather. There was also something raw about the landscape laid out before us. 

On the coldest morning of the winter so far, my friend Graham and I ambled through the quaint, narrow streets of the ancient village of Falkland, passing its royal palace and rows of pretty cottages. Beyond the village, we turned up the beautiful gorge of Maspie Den. If it had been cold in the village, then it was absolutely raw here where the cold air had sunk and settled in the den’s narrow confines. The stream through the gorge was frozen at its edges but mostly continued to flow, babbling gently under the many bridges that criss-crossed its course. At the head of the glen, we passed behind the stream’s waterfall and the long icicles overhanging the lip. 

Beyond Maspie Den our path climbed up onto the bealach between the peaks of West and East Lomond, the two most prominent tops in the Lomond Hills.  In climbing up we left the lower freezing air and reached the weak, winter sunshine that bathed the land in rich morning light. Finally, gloves could be removed without instant numbness. We made the long walk out to West Lomond which was gradual at first but finished with a short, steep finale onto the top. 

From West Lomond, I looked over to East Lomond and the long escarpment on which both peaks sit. The view was perfect on such a clear, crisp day. Much like the last walk to Binny Craig, the landscape appeared to me so raw and elemental. I could really see the nature of the land, its character and formation. The Lomond Hills are volcanic in origin. It seemed easy that day to appreciate their turbulent past in the ruggedness of the escarpment which was a massive, rocky, lumpy upswelling rising suddenly and incongruously from the genteel patchwork of the farmland surrounding it. 

Despite the sunshine, it was still too cold to linger on the top, so we set out on the long walk to East Lomond at the other end of the escarpment. Having lived in Fife for a number of years, I’ve walked in the Lomond Hills many times but it was Graham’s first visit. He was quite amazed at how far apart the two peaks were because, like me these days, he is used the distant view of the hills across the Firth of Forth from Portobello. They don’t look too far apart from Porty! But the long walk eventually put us on the top of East Lomond. 

After a flurry of photos, we dropped off the hill’s steep north side to head back down into Falkland and back down into the cold, raw air of the morning. 

Fact File

All the photos on Flickr - click HERE
Start/finish: Falkland, Fife

Public transport: For the January trip used Graham's car because of the short winter days but when I did this walk previously I used the train from Edinburgh to Markinch then cycled to the start at Falkland, about 10 miles along nice, quiet back roads.

My route: From the fountain in the centre of Falkland continued walking west along the main street which eventually left the village then passed through the gates of Falkland Estate. Shortly after, the path up Maspie Den is signed to the left. At the top of the path, passed behind the waterfall and when the den path meets another path, turned left and continued uphill. This path reaches the bealach between East and West Lomond. For West Lomond, after the gate and drystone wall took the wide grassy path to the right which is an obvious route to the top of West Lomond. Returned to the bealach, crossed the wee road that passes between the hills and picked up the obvious track on the other side along the north edge of the trees to East Lomond. From the top of East Lomond took the path that heads steeply northeast down the hill into the forest and eventually pops out in Falkland.

West Lothian - Where have you Binny all my life?

You can’t say this blog doesn’t take you to some exotic locations! This time we are in West Lothian! A couple of cycle rides aside, I’ve not spent much of my life exploring West Lothian despite the fact that it’s right on my doorstep. I suppose I’ve assumed that it’s just farmland and dreary towns. But my view has changed. Over the festive season I had a fabulous walk in West Lothian up a fascinating little hill called Binny Craig.

Situated a mile north of Uphall and pointing its rocky prow above the surrounding farmland, Binny Craig is only 219 metres high but a striking landscape feature. It’s a “crag and tail” landform which means it has a crag of hard rock facing west and a sloping tail of sedimentary rock running down to farmland to the east. The sedimentary rock was formed when this area was under the sea hundreds of millions of years ago. Over time, the land rose and during the last Ice Age glaciers moved in from the west, grinding away the softer sedimentary rocks to leave the harder exposed rock and creating Binny Craig as we see it today.

There was a hint of the last Ice Age that morning as my friend Graham and I cycled away from Uphall Station. The day was still and grey, gripped in cold and slick with ice in places. Our cycle route popped out on the far side of Uphall and there ahead of us was Binny Craig. It’s really quite a bizarre sight, rising suddenly from the farmland all around. 

Back roads took us to the bottom of the hill and a footpath crossed the fields before climbing sharply up through mossy winter woods. At the top of the trees we were at the bottom of the final steep section of the hill. And steep it was as we picked our way up Binny Craig’s tail to the top. The crags fell away to our west, dropping sheer to bare birch woods below. To the north, a narrow band of sunshine caught the Ochil Hills, their russet slopes the only colour on offer. And as I looked around, I started to see other little hills rise gently above low-lying mist and patches of old woodland. It was really quite nice.

So I’m sorry West Lothian that I’ve ignored you all my life but now I've found you, I'll definitely be back.

Fact File

Start/finish: Uphall Train Station

Public transport: Train from Edinburgh to Uphall

My route: Off the train turned left in the car park and picked up a cycle path at the far end signed for Uphall. On reaching the main street in Uphall turned right then left up Ecclesmachan Road. Took the next unclassified road to the left and just over 1.5km along it the footpath up Binny Craig is signed. We walked up and back down the same way but explored also a little the surrounding woods. On the way back, before Uphall we picked up a footpath signed for the village on our right and this popped out on the main street opposite the start of the cycle path back to the train station. There was also a footpath signed for Uphall just before the hill path for Binny Craig and that might provide a nicer link between the hill and the train station than the road.

Trossachs - Foxy

I'm a real early morning person. On work days I’m up at five and leave the house at six to cycle to work from the east side of the city to the west side. I like the quietness of early morning and on my ride to work I often see wildlife that doesn’t show itself later in the day. I have seen deer by the river, otters in the local pond and even a badger one morning on the cycle path. But my most common mammalian encounter in the city is with urban foxes. I’m always thrilled to see them with their pretty, delicate faces and their Irn-Bru coloured coats. I marvel at their ability to adapt to life in the city alongside man. However, it’s much less often that I see foxes when out in the hills and countryside. Perhaps here they are more wary and secretive due to years of persecution. But I was reminded recently that although they may not be visible, they are certainly out there!

When the December snowfall came, I was out for a long, rambling meander in the Trossachs. Essentially a circuit of Loch Vennachar from Callander with pleasing detours. Before the snow the weather was grey with a low ceiling of cloud and so little light that it was difficult to tell when the day ended and the night began. In late afternoon after a walk to Loch Drunkie during which I saw not another soul, I pitched the tent in the trees on the shore of Loch Vennachar. The rain that had fallen unremittingly during the afternoon turned to hail in the evening and then snow during the night. I knew this before I got up in the morning as, lying cosy in my sleeping bag, I could hear wet, heavy snow slide down the sides of my tent.  

As I set out along the trail, I enjoyed a world transformed by the snow into something wilder and prettier. But what I enjoyed most of all was walking with the foxes! That’s to say we walked the same trails, just hours apart from each other. It seemed that on every path I took that day there were fox prints in the snow, parallel to my own. And sometimes there were two sets of prints from different foxes whose paths also crossed at different hours.  Onwards I walked passed Brig o’Turk, through the woods of Glen Finglas and along the Great Trossachs Path above the loch and fields. All the way my route was criss-crossed by foxy tracks.  

Fact File

Start/finish: Callander

Public transport: Train to Stirling, bus to Callander.

My route: Followed national cycle route 7 south out of Callander along the south shore of Loch Vennachar and onto Loch Drunkie. Back to Loch Vennacher to camp then continued west on south shore track, taking eventually right turn on track signed for Brig o’Turk. Followed Great Trossachs Path back to Callander through Brig o’Turk and Glen Finglas woods then east in the fields and hills above the north shore of Loch Vennacher.

Great Glen - Happy campers

These last two autumn holidays, I've spent a chunk of my time cycling the Great Glen. You can read about my solo trip last year HERE. This year I was joined by my friend, Graham. As well as going back for great cycling, I also wanted to experience again the enjoyable, and fantastically cheap, camping opportunities along the route.  

This year we paid ten pounds to rent a key from Scottish Canals when we started our route at Corpach near Fort William. This allowed us to access the toilet and shower blocks along the Caledonian Canal which runs through the Great Glen, and therefore to use some of the informal canal-side camping. These were wonderful places to pitch and spend a night.

Our first night, and last night on the way back, was spent at Gairlochy. There's an idyllic patch of grass right on the canal-side which overlooks the basin here.  It's a wide open space with a backdrop of Aonach Mor and Ben Nevis and a foreground of incoming geese and fluttering bats.  The toilet and shower block is on the opposite side of the canal so it was a wee bit unnerving after dark walking across the top of the lock here with the inky black water below every time nature called. Next morning the waters were not black but the peach of the rising sun.

Last year I used another idyllic spot a little further on from Gairlochy on the banks of Loch Oich at the old ruin at Leitirfearn. It's a quiet spot, only accessible from the cycle path along the old railway line here. But Graham and I pressed further on from Leitirfearn and used a wild camp spot in the woods above Foyers. A pretty spot by the river, it's most appealing feature was the short run down to the cafe in Foyers in the morning for coffee and hot rolls. It's also close to the lovely woodland walks around the waterfalls here, the Falls of Foyers.

Our next cheap canal-side camp spot was a little bit quirky at Seaport Marina in Inverness. I say quirky because the informal camping was on a strip of grass behind the security fence overlooking the boats in the marina. It was noisy with city traffic but the showers were great and hundreds of geese came in at dusk.

Cycling south from Inverness, we used the route of the Great Glen Way. At one point you are deep in the woods when suddenly hand-painted signs start to appear beside the trail advertising coffee and lemon cake. Then a side trail welcomes you into the Abriachan eco-cafe and camp site. We didn't camp as it was only early morning and we'd many miles ahead but we did sample the coffee and Graham had a huge slice of cake.

Our only miserable camp spot of the trip was just south of Invermoriston. Late in the afternoon, we had lingered over coffee in the cafe there as heavy rain began to fall. We eventually forced ourselves on southward along forest trails above Loch Ness. But the rain didn't cease as the afternoon moved into evening and we struggled to find a nice camp spot. In the end a patch of grass by the side of the track had to do. It's funny how wet and miserable you can feel after a few hours in the rain but that feeling is banished quickly by getting the tent up, unravelling a cosy sleeping bag, changing into dry clothes and getting a cup of tea going on the stove.

South of Invermoriston, we headed again to a night at Gairlochy, our favourite spot of the trip, before an early morning cycle to Fort William for our train home.

Fact File

Start/finish: Fort William

Public transport: Train from Glasgow to Fort William

My route: We followed the Caledonia Way cycle route north out of Fort William which uses the canal for much of the way to Fort Augustus. At Inverfarigaig we left the cycle route and cycled instead through the Pass of Inverfarigaig which took us up into high ground with quiet back roads and a cracking tailwind. We dropped down onto the route again just beyond Dores and followed it into Inverness. We rejoined the canal to head to Seaport Marina then next morning double-backed a little to pick up the Great Glen Way south. We followed it back to Fort Augustus to repeat the cycle route into Fort William, alhtough we did detour for a few days up in Glen Strathfarrar, Cannich and Tomich which can be dome easily from Abriachan by following some lovely quiet back roads.

Info: The key from Scottish Canals to use the toilet facilities along the Caledonian Canal can be picked up at either end, at the Scottish Canals offices in Corpach or Seaport Marina.

Strathspey - Otter water, goose sky

Glaciers and water have shaped the upper reaches of the River Spey. They have created a long, flat-bottomed glen bounded on both sides by high mountains. The glen is green and lush, dotted with farms and pleasant wee towns in contrast to the rugged Cairngorms that rise to the south. They are the coldest and snowiest place in the country. The elements here have taken huge bites out of the mountains, creating a scalloped edge of sculpted corries, and worn away deep gashes like the Lairig Ghru. Along this northern edge of the Cairngorms there is a skirt of old Caledonian forest that cloaks the valley with Scots pine, birch and juniper. It’s criss-crossed with trails and dotted with secretive, tree-reflecting lochs that beg you to launch a boat onto their sheltered waters. So in late September, I added a lightweight packraft to my backpack and set off for a few days in the woods to walk the trails and paddle the waters.

A woodland walk on the first day took me an idyllic camp spot right at the edge of Loch Mallachie. I pitched the tent between tall pines whose straight tree trunks reflected in the rippled water like a squiggly bar code. Early morning I slipped the packraft onto the water and weaved a way through the pond weed. Movement ahead caught my eye – an otter. It powered across the loch towards the shallows around a wooded island then dived again and again, arching its back like a dolphin as it went under, leaving its tail to follow behind. The atmosphere of this place was special – wild and boreal with the Cairngorms rising beyond wooded foothills. I could have paddled all day except for a stiff wind picking up and forcing me back to land.

Woodland walks took me further up the glen to paddle its more sheltered waters. Above me as I walked or paddled huge skeins of geese passed overhead. Their combined honks began as a faint alert of their approach, reached a crescendo when they passed above me then receded as they flapped away over the horizon. For my second night out in the tent, I left the loch shores and headed deeper into the forest to a favourite camp spot. A beautiful, old, granny pine presides over a forest clearing while all around birch, juniper and heather form an understorey alive with the dusk-time twitter of small birds. 

Though my camp spot was deep in the woods, it was still only a short walk to the final stretch of water, Lochan Gamhna, another favourite wild spot of mine. A shallow shore provided a launch spot and the paddle cut through still waters as I headed out onto the main body of the loch. In the deeper parts of the loch, the water was as black as Guinness but in the shallower places it was transparent and the flat, round leaves of the pond weed floated on the surface. I could see their long stems that anchored them to the bottom of the loch. They were like balloons on long strings floating in the air. 

I paddled and drifted, paddled and drifted, soaking up the place. A rocky crag formed the loch’s northern boundary, its broken walls catching the morning sun. All around the shore the trees crowded to the edge, showing the first tints of autumn colours. To the south, the wooded hills began their steep climb to the higher tops of the Cairngorms. And superimposed on this was an autumn sky scored by skeins of geese.

Fact File

Start/finish: Aviemore Train Station

Public transport: Edinburgh/Glasgow to Inverness trains stop at Aviemore. Used the local Stagecoach bus from Aviemore to Boat of Garten.

My route: Followed the Speyside Way out of Boat of Garten towards Loch Garten. Just before Loch Garten there is a forest car park and from here forest trails connect to Loch Mallachie and beyond. Returned to Boat of Garten and took bus back to Aviemore. Walked on the cycle route to Inverdruie and behind the events field opposite the visitor centre, picked up the trail into the woods that leads to the lochan at the Polchar and then onto Loch an Eilein. A path encircles Loch an Eilein and at the southwest extremity a path branches off for Lochan Gamhna.

The Binn - New perspective

I feel very lucky living in Edinburgh’s seaside suburb, Portobello. At the bottom of my lane, just 30 metres from the house, is the beach and beyond the sand is the expanse of the Firth of Forth. I watch the sea a lot and I love how it’s never the same on two days. It can be glassy on a day with no swell and a gentle westerly but with a strong east wind, it can be wild and rough with big waves crashing to shore. When there’s a surf, I can hear the sea from the house and the waves seem to fill the whole area with sound. But when it’s quiet, I can hear the oystercatchers piping from the shoreline, or geese or swans flying overhead. They seem to use the coastline as a handrail for navigation. Living beside the sea also enables long beach walks straight from my front door and the opportunity to launch the kayak on calmer days. Apart from all of this, one of the best things about living at the beach is the expanse of the view, even though it’s backed by the city. I can see along the East Lothian coastline where the land first rises at Falside Castle and undulates eastwards, culminating in the dome-shaped hill of North Berwick Law at the furthest point of my horizon. In the middle of the Firth is the rocky outcrop of Inchkeith Island and across the water is the coastline of Fife and the East Neuk. The view of Fife is dominated by the twin conical peaks of the Lomond Hills but latterly my eye has been drawn to a lower hill in front of the Lomonds that rises above the town of Burntisland. When I wander down to the beach in the early morning and sip my coffee wrapped in a blanket on the colder days, it is immediately opposite me. It’s called the Binn and for some reason that I can’t fathom, I had missed climbing up it all these years. So, on a breezy day that put us off bigger hills or bike rides, I set off up the Binn with my friend, Graham.

A walk up the Binn is not long so for a bigger stretch of the legs, we got off the train at Aberdour, the stop before Burntisland. It has a lovely little station that has won awards for its floral displays and they still looked beautiful on that late summer morning. 

We used the Fife Coastal Path to walk from Aberdour to Burntisland. It’s a nice section that hugs the shoreline between the sea and the railway line but it also dips into shady, green woods along the way. That day, in strong sunshine, even the normally grey waters of the Firth of Forth were blues and greens in the shallows. Eventually our path flirted with the outskirts of Burntisland and here we began the climb up through the woods above town.

The Binn is only 193m high so it wasn’t long before we were breaking free of the woods and striding across open ground to the top. What was really surprising was that the Binn was not a singular top but a range of small hills and high ground, dotted with woods and stands of gorse. I wouldn’t have guessed there was so much up here from my straight-on view from Portobello. There were farmed fields as well that stretched almost to the edge of the sudden drop-off on the hill’s south side. Between the fields and the edge was a narrow footpath that undulated pleasingly along the ridge. The wheat fields were a striking gold in contrast to the blues of the sky and sea, and the black of the rain clouds that were following behind us and quickened our step. 

As we wandered along the ridge, the landscape of the Forth was set out below us. To the west, where the waters narrowed, we could see the three Forth bridges. The new Queensferry Crossing catches the light beautifully as the sun glints off its sweeping, elegant lines. It’s a stunning backdrop for the iconic Rail Bridge.  We could see along the full coastline of East Lothian, its undulating land and its terminus at North Berwick Law where the land turned from our view. The conical outline of the Law was a perfect match for the peaks of East and West Lomond behind us. Across the Forth was the unmistakable outline of Edinburgh. The knobbly upthrust of Arthur’s Seat and the sloping plane of Salisbury Crags added a touch of drama to the cityscape. 

And of course, standing in a place that I normally see from the opposite shore, I looked across the water to Portobello. I was seeing my home in the landscape that it inhabits from a whole new perspective.

Fact File

Start: Aberdour train station

Finish: Burntisland train station

Public transport: Regular trains from Edinburgh on the Fife line stop at both stations.

My route: Exited Aberdour station on the side of the ticket office. A cycle/pedestrian path is signed to the left, along the left edge of the car park. Followed this past Aberdour Castle. Where it meets a road, crossed the road and immediately opposite a path begins signed for Silver Sands. Followed this towards the beach where it picks up the Fife Coastal Path and followed that towards Burntisland. The path approaches Burntisland at new houses on the left and for the second time it goes under the railway line. Didn’t go under the railway line but left the Coastal Path at this point, following blue cycle path sign to the left. Straight on at a mini roundabout then right at the next bigger roundabout. Crossed the road and walked up Grange Road. At the top of the hill went straight on, ignoring the “private road” sign as there is through access for walkers. At the very top there is an exit for walkers out onto the Cowdenbeath Road. Immediately opposite the footpath for the Binn is signed up into the woods. Followed the path up through the woods, across an open meadow, through a gate into an open field and just ahead there is another green walking sign pointing to the Binn. This took us to the top. We followed the ridge eastwards then descended at the far end back into woods. At the four-way crossroads in the path where there are large boulders, we turned right, following a path back down through the woods to the back end of Burntisland at the golf club. Followed our noses down to the main street where it’s worth stopping to look at the lovely old Port Buildings. Walked to the far west end of the main street and turned left for the station.

Fife - Smell the sea and feel the sky

Running for 117 miles along the coast of Fife like a long piece of squiggly string laid along the edge of the land is the Fife Coastal Path. It runs through an incredible variety of landscapes and since walking stretches of it a few years back, I’d forgotten what an absolute delight it is. So when my old friend Bart was visiting, I decided to head there for the weekend to show him something a bit different to his usual mountainous home in the Pyrenees. Over two days, we walked the section of the path between Leuchars and Leven.

The first few miles were at odds with the rest of the trip as we were accompanied by rumbling traffic beside a busy main road. It was a relief when the route then joined a section of disused railway line to continue into the genteel atmosphere of St Andrews. Pringle-jumpered golfers practised their swing and throngs of tourists milled around the quaint streets of the ancient town centre. The old harbour provided us with a haven, its stone walls reaching out into a still, blue sea like a pincer claw.

The outline of Fife is often likened to a Scottie dog’s head and as we left St Andrews we were starting the long trek along the coast towards the dog’s nose at Fife Ness. The coastline here was an interesting juxtaposition. For a few miles we were walking along rugged beaches where wild geese dropped out of big skies to land on quiet bays and bruise-coloured clouds sent down the rain in drenching sheets. Then the next few miles we found ourselves crossing luxury golf courses. Two soggy, damp hikers with sheep poo on their shoes mixing with smartly dressed, wealthy golfers. 

There was great variety as well. At one point the trail headed inland and cut a route across farms and fields where we picked blackberries for an evening dessert. Then we returned to the coast through the lush, dripping gorge of a river, overhung with trees and green ferns. The beaches themselves switched between sweeping crescents of pale or russet sand that were a joy to walk on to rough beaches of rocks and boulders that tired us out.

By the time we reached the Scottie dog’s nose and turned the corner, it was early evening. A grassy shelf on a quiet bay provided the night’s wild camp spot. To the east there was sea as far as the eye could see. But to the south the water was broken by the squat outline of the Island of May. With sheer cliffs at one end like a huge baleen plate and a tapering tail at the other, the island made me think of a giant whale drifting on the surface of the sea.

Next morning, under a hot, late summer sun, we continued our trek west down our Scottie dog's chin. Our view was no longer endless sea now but the distant coastline of East Lothian on the other side of the Firth of Forth. The unmistakable hump of North Berwick Law was our sundial, its ever-changing angle marking the passage of time and distance. The morning sun picked out the guano-covered lump of the Bass Rock rising sheer from the sea and there were sea monsters as well in the bizarre shaped rock formations along our route. 

As we trekked further west, the character of the walk changed again as the Coastal Path linked together the charming old fishing villages of the East Neuk. The route stuck faithfully to the shore here so that we found ourselves walking through charming, old harbours and along quaint promenades where the fisher cottages were so close to the sea that you could cast a line from your bed. The old villages here were lovely with stone buildings stacked steeply above the harbours and narrow cobbled lanes winding between them. Some of the old harbours were obviously devoted to leisure craft these days but those at Pittenweem and Anstruther still had working boats bringing in the fish.

As we trekked the final few miles along the sweeping sandy beach of Largo Bay, the path meandered through sweet smelling dunes. On our horizon, the industrial outline of Leven clamoured up into the big skies that we’d enjoyed for the last two days. It signalled the end of our walk as offshore oilrigs drifted on the surface of the sea instead of whale-like islands.

Fact File

More photos on Flickr - click HERE.

Start: Leuchars

Finish: Leven

Public transport: Train from Edinburgh to Leuchars. Bus from Leven to Kirkcaldy then train back to Edinburgh.

Our route: On exiting the train station turned right along Station Road and then left along Toll Road - at the bottom the Fife Coastal Path is joined. The route is very well signed so I won't set it out here but maps and info can be found on the Fife Coastal Path website. Note that a couple of sections between St Andrews and Fife Ness need to be passed when the tide is not high. On entering Leven we left the promenade and followed signs for the bus station, a couple of minutes walk away. In Kirkcaldy got off the bus at the stop before the bus station as that's closer to the train station.