Scotland’s East Coast: (Berwick Coast Path, John Muir Way, Forth to Farne Way, John Muir Link)

A part of me wanted to walk north when I turned around at the border near Berwick-upon-Tweed to walk the King Charles III England Coast Path to Bridlington. Now my journey around the coast of England is complete (the subject of book number two), I was at a loss as to what I should do next. My wife sent me a quote from Wendell Berry:

“When we no longer know what to do, we have come to our real work and when we no longer know which way to go, we have begun our real journey”

That real journey was to enter Scotland, not with a vision to walk its entire coastline, but to find out within myself what I would do next, trusting my walk to light a spark of inspiration. The Berwick Coast Path, John Muir Link, and John Muir Way would take me to Musselburgh and then I could road walk and find paths to the Forth Road Bridge via Leith and Crammond.

Catching the LNER service to Berwick from King’s Cross is one of life’s pleasures. The views from the carriage window are exceptional, and I could review many of my previous journeys: the White Horse on the Cleveland Way, the coastline at Alnmouth, and much more. Alighting at the station, I dropped down to the River Tweed and followed the KCIIIECP north to the border. After 5 miles, I entered Scotland, walking to Eyemouth in the afternoon light of late September – it felt great to be back on the East Coast. The paths were full of roe deer and a new butterfly species for me – the Northern Angus. A particular delight was to descend to the former fishing port of Burnmouth, something you would otherwise miss in a car or on a bicycle. A beautiful sculpture remembered 189 fisherman who lost their lives in 1881.

I was welcomed by a local in Eyemouth who had seen me descend from the cliff paths and was happy to direct me to the chippy for the evening meal. I have my tent, sleeping bag and stove, and I intend to (wild) camp as much as possible, but in hindsight, the urban nature of the walk would make that difficult. That night I spent in a local hotel, and set out fully fueled with Scotland’s finest breakfast to walk the rugged coastline to Torness.

The paths are good quality, and my trail shoes are perfect for the dry conditions to St Abbs, and then to St. Abbs Head. Then the terrain gets more rugged and true to form the clouds descend and empty their cargo across the landscape. I was beginning to rue the decision not to wear boots, but I knew there would be pavement and cycleways ahead, they dried out quickly enough on the paths, which were not as muddy as I had expected. The route was empty, with no dog walkers or hikers at all, yet the scenery easily rivalled any in the South West of England or Northumberland and is perhaps overlooked. Passing near Siccar Point, I could see waymarks referring to James Hutton, a geologist from the 18th Century. The rock formations, or unconformities, are a site of pilgramage for geologist around the world, for this is where he proposed the concept of deep time. Something to research later.

Ahead, however, was the home of an unnatural force – Torness Nuclear Power Station, still generating 1.2 GW of electricity to the National Grid. My Paramo jacket kept me dry in the deluge, and my shoes felt comfortable as I walked the beach and around the robust sea defence walls of the facility to the campsite a few miles before Dunbar. I have walked 40km and remind myself to slow down a bit from now on, as that pace is not sustainable carrying a 15kg pack.

I had left Berwickshire near Cockburnspath, the start of the Southern Upland Way, to join the John Muir Link path to Dunbar and East Lothian. The quality of the paths surprised me; they were well maintained, signed and easy to follow. This continued as I navigated the narrow path between the golf course and the high water mark. The golfers were respectful of walkers and stopped to chat, interested in my journey. Signs would tell you what to do, a positive messages compared with the negative ‘do not signs’ I experience in much of southern England. This first course would be one of many along the Golf Coast, including some of the most stunning Links fairways I have seen. I am almost tempted to take up golf to walk them.

Dunbar marks a turning point to follow an inland path to North Berwick, which is not hard to miss, as North Berwick Law, another volcanic plug, like Bass Rock, dominates the landscape. I am now on the John Muir Way (JMW), which will take me to the West Coast if needed. The fields and estuaries are full of birds. I met a few walkers and often stopped to chat for quite some time in a few cases. Heading north from East Linton, I have a memorable encounter with a Pine Marten, bouncing up the path towards me. I freeze and let it explore further until it is within 5 metres, spots me, and dives into the bushes. I call it day in North Berwick and catch the local 124 bus service to Aberlady to the campsite, whose owner has a camping pod I can use for two days as I walk to Musselburgh.

It rains heavily overnight, and the morning winds are fresh for the walk west. I will not follow the JMW religiously but will take the North Berwick to Gullane Loop to stay near the coastline. It is a good decision, for the beaches are wild, culminating in Aberlady Bay. The sands dry and lift in the wind and sail towards the dunes. The paths and beaches are empty, and solitary walking is envigorating. The route briefly takes an inland course around the salt marsh to a critical bridge. The local Scottish Ornithological Society has a base nearby, and a few watchers are busy counting birds through their telescopes.

I now have 10 miles to Musselburgh as I ease into a more urban landscape, with Cockenzie, Port Seton, and Prestonpans providing much industrial heritage interest. As I swing into the River Esk the shingle banks hold large flocks of Canadian Geese, and in amongst them, I am sure I can see a Nẽnẽ, or Hawaiian Goose! What on earth is that doing here? I thought they only bred in the UK at the WWT site at Slimbridge in the Severn Estuary.

The bus gets me back to my pod and returns me to Musselburgh the next morning. My target for my last day on the JMW is North Queensferry if the Forth Road Bridge is open for walkers, as it closes in high winds (> 60mph). I am expecting boring roadside walking, but the promenade through Portobello links to a cycle path (not marked on the map) to Leith. A cruise liner is in the bay, so the port is busy with tourists catching buses to see Edinburgh’s Top 5. As soon as you pass Granton Harbour, you are back on shoreline cycle tracks, and you would never know you were so close to a major city. A beautiful path takes you besides the River Almond to a lovely bridge which rejoins the JMW (which went through the city). Reaching the shoreline again, the woodland paths are delightful and later reveal the huge forms of the Forth bridges: Forth Rail Bridge, Forth Road Bridge, and the Queensferry Crossing – each representing the evolution of civil engineering design. The rail bridge is spectacular, defying existence, the (old) road bridge has a walkway, which after 2km brings you into North Queensferry and a train station, that is convienient for my accommodation in the cheapest hotel I can find in Kirkcaldy. The new bridge takes hundreds of cars every minute into Fife or East Lothian, a major strategic crossing in Scotland across the majestic Firth of Forth.

Tomorrow, I will join the Fife Coast Path to walk to Dundee. My walk has given me space to start thinking about the journeys I might take in the future. I am sure a bicycle will be involved, but I am starting to think about slowing down too – for one of the most powerful quotes that resonates with me is from Seneca – “to be everywhere is to be nowhere” – that is to say, that rushing around ticking off trails is not the path I will follow. But, as with all things in life, it is a matter of finding a balance between the two. I have another 100 miles to go, so I have plenty of time to ponder.