THE FIFE COASTAL PATH

PART 5

rosyth TO ABERDOUR

Leaving Limekilns and Bruce Haven behind, the FCP route moves inland around the edge of the Naval Dockyard. The 20th century preoccupation with wars, economies and competition have a legacy thoughout the FCP route. What was a once strongly guarded major base reflects the lessened need to project power in the way it once was. As a consequence there is a sense of redundancy at what was a key naval base, where ships sailed to war and returned or did not return.

The walk around and through the dockyard and the naval township is pleasant enough once the main road is left behind. But it is basically still just a walk through a former military township. The approach is dominated by the dockyard and the bridges which are markers between river and estuary. The route leads to North Queensferry

The route runs down to the rail bridge at North Queensferry, dominated by the awesome majesty of the iconic rail bridge. North Queensferry also marks one of the start points of the Fife Pilgrim Way joining the Kincardine branch at Dunfermline. This was the northern terminal of the route from South Queensferry across the forth for pilgrims heading for St Andrews. It was also the original start point for the Coastal Path (not Kincardine), just as the original end was Newport on Tay (rather than Newburgh).

The walk from North Queensferry is a step change from before the bridge. For a start, the route from North Queensferry begins with a climb, a climb up the rock that the railway uses to cross the Forth.

In North Queensferry these days, the nice wavy lines of the FCP logos are joined by Fife Pilgrims’ Way logos, the latter left behind as the FCP route heads up the rock overlooking the Forth, giving views of moorings for oil tankers. Beneath the rock lies the visitor attraction Deep Sea World. The signs are there, but as yet I haven’t found th place.

This says much about the country and culture that I now live in. Although I no longer have a dog, Rhys being in doggy heaven, I still like talk to dogs and their owners.

On the day, it was one of those amazing, cold clear mornings: low sunlight, no wind, cold but good for walking. The dog walkers were out, and conversations were had. With a background of the sun reflecting on the Forth, conversations with dogs and owners were had. Scots folk are generally friendly and will speak to strangers which is damn civlised.

North Queensferry is no longer a ferry as such: its importance as a crossing was superseded by the completion of the Forth Rail Bridge, and the importance of both North Queensferry and Inverkeithing diminished.

The area above North Queensferry was relentlessly quarried over the years as a source of stone used for building. Stone quarried from North Queensferry and Inverkeithing was used in the building of the Forth and Clyde Canal, and stone buildings are a feature of houses and buildings along the Forth such as Falkirk and Grangemouth

At a passing glance, Inverkeithing appears pleasant, particularly around the hospital although the way forward is somewhat, well pedestrian. The route follows Port Street, a reminder that Inverkeithing was a port and no longer is. The town’s past is not just the now decorative centre but also the remains of what was. At one time the railway served the port, but now the main railway passes the town, and the station is outside the town itself, a place for commuting. A branch of the railway now lays in grass, but has a footbridge crossing to allow additional access to the East Ness and the abandoned quarries on that side of the bay. The route runs along the road and past a green area, the former site of a ballast bank and the site of the shipbuilding yard that once was. It allows access to the boatyard and also to the route along the shore past the Prestonhill Quarry and the associated disused jetty which delivered stone to be loaded on ships to build Scotland

The FCP runs along the edge of Inverkeithing Bay turning in to the inner bay which evidence the decline of shipbuilding and quarrying that once thrived hereby. They built ships in Inverkeithing, but latterly they broke them and continue to do so. That business has diminished, with the heydey of ship-breaking including ships such as the original Dreadnought, and battleships such as the Rodney. The quarries that now lay disused on the south side of the Inner Bay also reflect a time when men and women laboured physically in the shadow of the rail bridge to build Scotland.

Prestonhill Quarry is used as a scuba diving training area but has something of a deadly reputation. More happily, it is also a playground for dogs, sometimes single dogs, sometimes small herds of them. On the day, the dogs were both friendly to the human and interested in other dogs. So, the walk continues toward Dalgety Bay through a sparse woodland offering more views across the Forth.

The FCP route wanders on along the edge of the Forth, between the water and the numbers of newbuilds (01/2020) that have grown out to the east of the bridges. Walking through the St Davids Harbour area had for me a sense of being an intruder into a protected and manicured exclusiveness. There is a good deal of affluence going on here which contrasts strongly with other parts of the FCP (e.g. Rosyth, Leven etc). Nice place; not sure if I would want to live here. But the walking is pleasant, and the views across the Forth are good.

Dalgety Bay as a place is new: the actual Dalgety Bay is to the east (of Donibristle). The St David’s Harbour is an ordered place with views across the Forth. Brand spanking new, and quite desirable. Dalgety Bay as a township is now much more of a dormitory place with views, all modern and ordered, or a place for the ageing and well-heeled. Quiet in the day, manicured, nice. It has its own railway halt. But the Bay of course has been there, well, for a long time. The act Dalgety Bay is to the east of the township. The route itself follows the edge of the Forth, winding along the edge of the new township of Dalgety Bay.

The FCP leads

The old maps show a very different picture.

Dalgety Bay, as in the place rather than the watery bit, has not been around that long. It is a township that has grown to provide a dormitory that is handy for commuting to Edinburgh. It is a nice place, quiet and affable stitched neatly into the remnants of what was the Donibristle Estate. it stretches east along the coastline which the FCP follows. However, Donibristle is of course most famous for the Guard from Donibristle who worked with Mr McIvor the engine driver.

In fairness, the overall impact of this part of the walk is good. Thought has been given to the landscaping, and the overall impact is pleasant: a good walk in itself. It was a walk that felt good, a good place to be. A place to walk with your thoughts.

The route leads on to Downing point

The area around Downing Point is particularly marked, with notice boards identifying the role of the Point as part of the defences around Edinburgh and the Forth. As noted before, the military and naval traces are prominent along the FCP (from Kincardine to St Andrews and beyond). The reality is that the small bay at Downing Point was a military and naval facility. The area of the small bay housed the accommodation for soldiers and sailors manning defences of the Forth. That accommodation has been replaced with large commodious dwellings around the old Donibristle House.

Ok. I lied about Mr McIvor and the Guard.

Turns out, his son was at Raith Rovers where George latterly played. And there was a connection with Stirling Albion, where my nephew plays. Small world.

The Braefoot petro-chemical blocks the route along the coast to Aberdour and the path necessarily turns inland and heads towards Aberdour. The good deal is that the FCP runs past St Bridget’s Kirk here. A peaceful place.

The view east from St Bridgets is of Braefoot Point, which snugly conceals the gas terminal at Braefoot Bay which looks over to Inchcolm Abbey and Island. On the point itself was another of the Forth defences housing a First World War Gun Battery complex which is now a scheduled monument.

The route from St Bridget’s is pleasant but not particularly remarkable. It sneaks up to Aberdour by passing the golf club, cunningly named the Aberdour Golf Club. In fairness, this part of the Fife Coast has been reasonably golf course free. The golf course sits on the shoreline and the FCP passes between a row of bungalows that oversee the golfers smacking the little white balls with alacrity. My suspiscion was that the folk in the bungalows have retired to the coast to see the views and play golf. Seems a good idea if you’re into that kind of thing. And the players that were playing had an unpretentious air about them.

Needless to say, chat was not exchanged: the wire fence remained both a phsyical and cultural barrier, golf being a good walk spoiled.

In fairness, I suspect that the behaviours of walkers and golfers are mutually incomprehensible, but probably each view is characterised by the word “why”?

I have read Bill Bryson’s “Walk in the Woods”, which I liked: the man knows a thing or two. I know that I have no desire to walk the Appalachian Trail.

“Distance changes utterly when you take the world on foot. A mile becomes a long way, two miles literally considerable, ten miles whopping, fifty miles at the very limits of conception. The world, you realize, is enormous in a way that only you and a small community of fellow hikers know. Planetary scale is your little secret.

Life takes on a neat simplicity, too. Time ceases to have any meaning. When it is dark, you go to bed, and when it is light again you get up, and everything in between is just in between. It’s quite wonderful, really.

You have no engagements, commitments, obligations, or duties; no special ambitions and only the smallest, least complicated of wants; you exist in a tranquil tedium, serenely beyond the reach of exasperation, “far removed from the seats of strife,” as the early explorer and botanist William Bartram put it. All that is required of you is a willingness to trudge.

There is no point in hurrying because you are not actually going anywhere. However far or long you plod, you are always in the same place: in the woods. It’s where you were yesterday, where you will be tomorrow. The woods is one boundless singularity. Every bend in the path presents a prospect indistinguishable from every other, every glimpse into the trees the same tangled mass. For all you know, your route could describe a very large, pointless circle. In a way, it would hardly matter.

At times, you become almost certain that you slabbed this hillside three days ago, crossed this stream yesterday, clambered over this fallen tree at least twice today already. But most of the time you don’t think. No point. Instead, you exist in a kind of mobile Zen mode, your brain like a balloon tethered with string, accompanying but not actually part of the body below. Walking for hours and miles becomes as automatic, as unremarkable, as breathing. At the end of the day you don’t think, “Hey, I did sixteen miles today,” any more than you think, “Hey, I took eight-thousand breaths today.” It’s just what you do.”

― Bill Bryson, A Walk in the Woods: Rediscovering America on the Appalachian Trail

Returning to the sheep……

Aberour quaintly appears through a significant gateway with gates that now appear never to close. Emerging on to the main drag, the High Street . The FCP allows a brief walk before turning right to head back towards the shoreline. Aberdour’s main draw is the Silver Sands but the FCP chooses to take the road down to the harbour, complete with benches. A good place to end the day. Having had a good walk, Carol’s arrival to pick me up and thus to avoid a lengthy bus journey or three was damn fine.