Friday at the Firth

It actually snowed today, and it's hard to believe when I look in the mirror and see my sunburnt neck. The sky looked so hazy when we set off for a day's walking along the Firth of Forth that sunburn was the last thing that came to my mind. I was in fact wondering if the Icelandic volcanic cloud may be keeping the sun so distant, and the sky so misty.

North Queensferry train station.

For the first time I crossed the Forth on the actual railway bridge. We got off at North Queensferry, a tiny cute town completely dominated by the bridge.

North Queensferry.

The Forth path starts at North Queensferry, and runs all the way to Tay Bridge, 150 km further along the coast. We only walked a small section, and the path is accessible by train only up to Kirkcaldy, so we had to be strategic.

For the first kilometre or so the path took us through a disused quarry, which now is a bird reserve. I had no luck bird spotting that day though - even the blackbird only posed for Skinnytoes!

Looking towards Incholm island.

The rather uninspiring looking town of Inverkeithing.

If I were smart and listened to my man, we would have gotten off the train at Inverkeithing and saved ourselves the long, dusty walk along the bay which the town surrounds. The bay is a working port, and a scrapyard, or perhaps even a foundry; not only were there piles of metal everywhere, and trucks going busily in an out, but the air itself tasted of metal, a weird, prickly, oily taste in the mouth and the nose, not completely unpleasant, but very alien.

A pile of scrapped cars at Inverkeithing bay.

The walk around the bay took ages - by the time we were done, the ship which was being loaded with scrap when we turned the corner was ready to take off with its load. It cost us 4km and a lot of time... But then the scenery picked up again, and birds returned.

An early dip.

Looking towards Inchcolm.

The path took us through the very nice, leafy and rich residential part of Dalgety, full of birds, children and people doing a spring clean, making me wonder how is it that they are not at work? Perhaps they too were celebrating the unique sunny day and called in sick.

Dalgety sailing club, and a tanker at the petrochemical terminal in the distance.

The early bird and its worm.

The next bay we came to was my favourite; the tide was low, and there were lots of birds foraging in the sand and on the rocks. I crept as close as I could, and spent a happy twenty minutes bird-stalking.

In flight.

A flock of sandpipers, and a few oystercatchers.

And they're off!

Flying oystercatchers with the backdrop of Edinburgh on the Southern shore.

Yaay, sandpipers.

Yaay, photogenic ducks and misty Edinburgh.

The path took us past the remains of a church, and then headed inland, which left us a bit confused.

St Bridget's Church

I later found out that that part of the coast is occupied by one of Exxon's petrochemical plants, and we could just see the tower of the tanker between the trees. We went along a flock of grazing sheep, and their smell, which I associate so strongly with Darbyshire, was completely out of place for me.

We were getting close to Arbedour, and on this section the path had been planted with thousands of daffodils.


For quite a while we walked along the amazingly picturesque golfing field, and Skinnytoes was giving me a crash course on the game.


Arbedour itself was very cute, and busy. The beach was full of people, and the port too full of activity.

Arbedour marina.

A look back to where we had walked from:

And that's how I got sunburnt on a hazy day.