Walking in the Shadows of WWII
The first couple of weeks this January have been spent getting used to normal life again – I don’t know about you, but I’ve found it really difficult to adjust to a working schedule and all those dark hours! Definitely no room for more art galleries just yet as I coax my shocked body through the most depressing weeks of the year.
So, what’s the best way to get through? I think there’s a strategic use of carbs (seriously, a baked potato with egg mayo is a gamechanger, RIP The Baked Potato Shop), varied exercise and TV binges that need to coexist as some sort of equation to get maximum results.
What I have been doing is getting out into the fresh air at the weekends to walk. Of course, Fred is a big fan of the humble walk. Huge fan. We go out multiple times a day, to the park, round the block, a quick pavement sniff and pee before bed… But there’s something different about getting out into the wild with intention and walking further while the sun is up and the sky might just be blue.
Edinburgh is great for walking without having to travel too far into the countryside. This city has it all – hills, rivers, beaches, extinct volcanoes! And then lots of places for coffee and cake after any healthy pink cheeked exertions, which is probably the most important thing of all.
Our favourite walk was last Saturday, when we woke up earlyish, checked the tide times for Cramond, found them favourable so just got ready and left straight away. Cramond is a village at the mouth of the River Almond flowing into the Firth of Forth. Lots of people use the beach for dog walking and cycling/jogging/skating along the boardwalk.
If you’re a history buff, it’s worth knowing that there is evidence there of a Mesolithic campsite dated around 8500 BC; the information boards are almost hidden in the wooded area above the car park. It is also the site of a Roman fort (Cramond comes from Caer Amon meaning fort on the river) and you can find excavated constructions and old Roman layouts near the Kirk.
Cramond Island is connected to the mainland by a causeway and a single line of imposing concrete pylons which feel brutally out of place until you realise that it played its part in defence during both World Wars along with the other estuary islands. It was fortified with concrete bunkers, spotlights and gun emplacements during WWII and the pylons were to discourage surface craft from sneaking past near the shore.
We were able to wander all the way out across the sand due to such a low tide (please read the safe crossing times if you go!) and even went further than Cramond Island until the tiny Inchmickery came into clearer view, an island maybe 100x200m in size. Now this is a curious place. It is almost completely covered in concrete structures and was used as a gun emplacement, although it is now abandoned and an RSPB reserve. From a distance and in low visibility conditions, this could definitely be mistaken for a battleship, just lurking on the water awaiting enemy attack.
And after all that muddy walking, WWII infrastructure spotting and ball throwing, it was time for the carb element of the January happiness equation; a fresh warm scone, crumbly to the touch with butter and jam, a strong coffee and an outside table at the Cramond Bistro to watch my fellow morning walkers go by, which is almost as good as watching TV…