Walking the Fife Coastal Path

The Kingdom of Fife on the East Coast of Scotland to the North of Edinburgh and the Firth of Forth offers a wonderful opportunity to explore the gently undulating and spectacular coastline on foot. Running for 81 miles from the Forth Bridges in the south to the Tay Bridge to the north of the county, the Fife Coastal Path is well worth the effort. Dotted with exquisite and picturesque little fishing villages featuring sturdy stone-built harbours and flanked with pretty pastel-shaded cottages dating back to the seventeenth century, it is wonderfully scenic. Nowadays, instead of whitefish and herring, the focus is on shellfish.

The eastern corner of Fife or East Neuk embraces the particularly attractive settlements from Elie in the south to Anstruther and Crail to the north. These villages feature many houses with unique ‘corbie’ or ‘crow-stepped’ gables topped with clay pantile roofs. This style of architecture was brought over by early Flemish settlers who established strong trading links with this part of Scotland.

We began our expedition from the sizeable town of Kirkcaldy, arriving on an April Saturday evening in readiness to walk on Sunday.

After a lively and convivial evening in town, special mention must be made of the Penny Farthing pub, we were out early with a spring in our step. The dreich conditions failed to dampen our enthusiasm. We walked along the waterfront and rounded the old harbour before passing a large flour mill and negotiating Ravenscraig Park as we headed north.

Arrival at Dysart after just an hour was probably a little too early for a pit stop. However, we could not ignore the charms of the splendid and evocative Harbourmaster’s House and café. We emerged through the harbour tunnel, hewn out of the country rock. Out of the gloom could see the handsome building on the other side of the small harbour. The place had just opened at 10 am, so we had timed it perfectly. I particularly enjoyed their version of Eggs Benedict with butter-braised leeks.

These early sections of the walk threw up some interesting examples of old industrial heritage. We saw the derelict winding gear of Frances Colliery and then passed through the villages of West and East Wemyss with Coaltown of Wemyss just a mile or so inland. The disused Michael Colliery just before East Wemyss also highlighted the area’s recent coal mining history.

On chatting with some locals along the route, we were asked about where we were headed. On telling them we would spend the night in Buckhaven, we were asked: “Do you have Kalashnikovs?” It was apparently not the most salubrious of spots.

Beyond Wemyss Caves and the small derelict castle of Macduff, we made good progress. The route took us down the disused railway line previously used to transport coal before we entered the unprepossessing town of Buckhaven. It appeared to be closed.

However, we found our accommodation and after checking emails for codes and getting to grips with key safes, we gained access. There was a room for myself and my wife, Jude, and a smaller one for our friend Alan. All perfectly acceptable.

After a coffee and a freshen up, it was time to venture out and see what the place offered. Not a lot, was the short answer. However, there was a tidy enough establishment down the road (cash only) which, while displaying one of the ubiquitous “Would you like to run this pub?” signs, looked decent enough.

The clientele was essentially male, elderly, and decrepit. Chatting disconsolately, occasionally belligerently and with a frequent peppering of comments with ripe language, they had commandeered all the bar stools around the horseshoe-shaped bar. Helen, the landlady, oversaw matters with a matronly eye and the odd word required to maintain some semblance of order.

I provoked some good humoured discord by suggesting they were all out this fine afternoon in order to celebrate St George’s Day.

While we were there, taxi drivers had to come into the pub regularly and help their clients from their bar stools and into a waiting cab. One old boy seemed to disappear for an hour, seemingly for his afternoon nap, only to be brought back by his cabby to resume his drinking session.

We passed an agreeable couple of hours, though, reading the Sunday papers and watching Manchester United defeat Brighton. The match ended in a tense shoot-out, with the northerners reaching the FA Cup Final against their illustrious rivals from the other side of their city.

What Alan and I were pleased to find out was that Buckhaven was the home to the mighty East Fife football team. The team is known by all soccer aficionados for the comedic tongue-twisting scoreline of East Fife 4, Forfar 5, propounded by the great Eric Morecambe. A match did actually finish with that result, albeit after a penalty shootout on 22nd July 2018.

We had a lengthy walk of at least seventeen miles planned for the next day, as accommodation had been tricky to arrange. On rising early and seeing the weather forecast on the television, we were promised a sharp frost and icy blasts from the north. There was also the chance of rain, sleet, or even snow. Looking out of the Velux roof lights blue skies with scudding cotton wool clouds painted a more benign picture. We would see, but my shorts would remain in my rucksack.

Setting out around 8.30 am and wended our way down to the coastline. The early part of the trek took us through the less-than-beautiful semi-industrial areas of Methil and Leven. On we went past the Innerleven power station before walking along the edge of Largo Bay. For this section, we were alongside the first of many links golf courses we would encounter on our journey.

Beyond the clubhouse, we came across the pretty little spot of Lower Largo. We could not resist stopping for a coffee at the smartly appointed Crusoe Hotel on the waterfront. Over our Americanos, we quickly learned that the village was the birthplace in 1676 of the Scottish privateer Alexander Selkirk. This seafarer’s real-life shipwreck resulted in him being a castaway for over four years and his story became the inspiration for Daniel Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe.

As we were walking such a long way, we decided to break the journey at the renowned pub-hotel The Ship, in Elie, and have a decent lunch. We planned to have a pleasant break before tackling the final six or seven miles of the day to Anstruther. I phoned ahead to book a table at 1.15 pm.

We marched on, but after taking too much time over coffee were always up against it time-wise. Weather-wise things were not too great either.

After a straightforward section along an old railway line, formerly used for transporting coal, we headed upwards, high above Shell Bay. Dark threatening clouds obliterated the sky, the wind howled, and we were lashed with rain, sleet and hail. The conditions made it tricky as we negotiated a particularly steep, narrow and vertigo-inducing descent into Earlsferry and towards Elie beyond.

It was a hard slog battling with the elements and we were pleased to get down to sea level once again. We skirted another golf course and increase our pace through the pretty village.

We were warmly welcomed at the Ship, despite being a half hour late and were all impressed by the friendliness and professionalism shown by all concerned.

After enjoying an excellent lunch, Jude decided she could not resist a pudding, while Alan and I felt another pint was the order of the day. After demolishing her pud, Jude decided some self-flagellation was in order and announced she was going to tackle the final six miles or so. We had already covered eleven and had discussed getting a bus for the rest of the route, but Jude was adamant.

Alan and I had already made our minds up and headed off to the bus stop, conveniently next to another hostelry, the Station Buffet. There we fell into easy conversation with several locals as we waited the forty-odd minutes until the next bus. At the bus stop, we quickly caught up with a couple of young chaps we had been chatting with. One of them ran a pub called the West End Bar at Pittenweem, but today was his day off. This watering hole was due to open at 4 o’clock, conveniently, the time when our bus stopped outside. We took minimal persuading to join them there for a couple.

We finally caught a later bus and entered Anstruther just as Jude was walking into town. She had walked for another couple of hours. We had enjoyed a decadent afternoon.

Our accommodation in the lovely little town was at the Library Hostel. As might be assumed, this was a former library dating from 1908. It was a substantial red sandstone property with high ceilings, wooden floors, and a wonderful, handsome mahogany staircase. A sizeable kitchen and comfortable guest lounge were also provided, and our room offered panoramic views over the harbour and the coastline. It was an ideal spot.

A drink in the newly refurbished pub (another Ship) overlooking the harbour was followed by a meal at the Waterfront restaurant a couple of doors down from home. Then to bed.

Jude reckoned the walk from Elie through Pittenweem and St. Monans was worthy of an encore. So, we decided, as we were staying two nights in Anstruther, to all head southwards (with the advantage of not having to take all our belongings) the next day.

She was right in her assessment as the villages, harbours and beaches were all delightful. The terrain was quite gentle and progress was good as we enjoyed walking in cool, sunny conditions, with the wind not as blustery as it had been.

Along the Fife Coastal Path

After Anstruther Wester, we were soon in Pittenweem, another stunningly pretty little village with a fine harbour. The fishing industry seems to thrive in this spot.

Remnants of old Scottish industrial heritage can be found along the coast. St Monans windmill, just before the village, was used for pumping up seawater into the salt pans. Here coal fires were used to boil off the water to leave the salt behind.

Beyond St Monans, probably the smallest of the East Neuk villages, but still very attractive and with a lovely stone harbour, we walked on past ruined castles and towers to Ruby Bay. Via some dunes, we dropped down and emerged onto the harbourside at Elie.

As regulars now, we fetched up at the Ship in Elie for another warm welcome and an excellent late lunch. Jude again insisted on walking back, although this time she had skipped pudding.

As I had volunteered to go to the supermarket and prepare supper in the kitchen at the Library and Alan wanted to treat his sore feet, we left her to it. Back at the bus stop aka the Station Buffet, we waited perfectly happily for the fifty minutes until our bus arrived.

After a cordon bleu pasta, mushroom and chorizo dish prepared by my fair hand, a cheeky little wine and coffee in the lounge, we retired for the evening.

The next day, we again had the advantage of walking with minimal baggage. We had left our stuff at the library while we walked on to Crail and then back. As the distance for the return trip was a modest 8 miles, this seemed to be a decent approach. We would then take a cab to our remote accommodation towards St Andrews.

The morning dawned bright and breezy. According to my phone, the temperature would be 3 degrees but feel like minus 1. The shorts would stay put.

The walk started with a closer examination of Anstruther Harbour before we followed the narrow streets in an easterly direction, which took us to the adjacent Cellardyke. This little village, the small harbour flanked by handsome white-painted homes, is essentially an extension of the larger settlement but appears to have its own distinct character. The stone haven looked substantial enough, but was destroyed and required rebuilding because of the colossal damage caused by the great storm of 1898. Fishing boats of a previous era are now largely replaced by pleasure craft.

Anstruther Harbour

Beyond the harbour, we could see both the Isle of May and Bass Rock in the distance, basking in the sun.

At the end of the village was an ocean pool, hewn from the rocks and where the tides refreshes the water twice a day. Apparently, a thriving group of local ladies swim regularly here throughout the year. The group is called the ‘Menopausal Mermaids.’ We had spotted other similar pools along the route.

Along the unspoilt coastline, we were privileged to watch a school of dolphins frolicking just offshore. We also observed cormorants diving for fish and then standing on a convenient rock and drying their wings in the breeze.

As we approached Crail, the route takes walkers up through a farmer’s field high above the beach, coastal erosion having caused this slight diversion. This has the effect, though, of giving rise to a spectacular view of the tiny harbour from up high, with a terrace of fine Victorian homes to our backs.

Lovely Crail Harbour

After walking down into the centre of the charming little place, with many of the Flemish-influenced buildings with their stepped gables to the fore, we negotiated the steep path down to the harbour. After an exploration of this charming spot, it was back up to the centre of Crail for a coffee.

We then all grabbed an excellent Scotch pie and walked back to the high point overlooking the harbour. Sitting on a convenient bench, savouring both our lunch and the wonderful views, we enjoyed a few minutes of bright sunshine.

I am not normally in favour of ‘there and back’ routes, but there was no doubting walking in the opposite direction offers a different perspective. This time we had a quick poke around some sandstone caves. Later, we had a quick pit stop at a pub in Cellardyke, a village that Jude particularly liked, before undertaking the last leg into Anstruther.

As our accommodation outside St Andrews was a little remote, we collected our bags and phoned for a taxi. Cabs not being readily available in the area meant we had to wait for an hour. The wait was undertaken, conveniently, in the Ship Inn.

Our rooms in the holiday let were very good and there was a kitchen. Here we could add to the remains of the previous evening’s repast and cobble up a decent meal. So with some wine and beer, and snooker and football on the television, it was all hunky dory.

John, the accommodation owner, kindly offered to run us into St Andrews in the morning. So, we changed our plans to walk from the Scottish university city to Crail rather than the other way round. This modification allowed us to drop our bags at that evening’s layover, so we again had the advantage of walking without baggage.

After finding our digs and dropping off bags at what was part of a central, large Victorian grey stone student property, we undertook a brief tour of the atmospheric town before seeking the coastal path.

Our initial exploration inevitably brought us to the renowned home of golf, the Old Course of St Andrews. Walking across the hallowed eighteenth and first fairways and photographing the iconic and ancient stone Swilcan bridge over the eponymous burn was a real goosebump moment.

The Old Course and Swilcan Bridge St Andrews

We could readily reach the coast from the course and set off in an easterly direction. Today’s hike was going to be long, at something like eighteen miles. The weather was not great. It was cold, very blustery, with rain in the air. We hacked on, initially skirting holiday lodges and mobile homes after leaving St Andrews behind us. The up and down route then took us alongside seemingly endless stretches of links golf courses, with the ocean crashing in furiously to our left. We were required to walk the beach in some sections with rugged boulders and soft sand, making progress difficult.

We had hoped to break the journey with a decent lunch break. Unfortunately, there were no opportunities to do so on this leg, so we had no choice but to battle on through the squalls.

At one point, the path diverted inland for a while, crossing farmland and rounding Boarhills Farm. Beyond this point, we followed an enchanting burn, sitting in a winding valley, heading down to the sea. This section was a gentle respite from the wildness of the coast. It was an attractive, calm, wooded area, replete with many wildflowers and a wonderful chorus of twittering birds.

 Finally, the path brought us back to the coastline, where we again had well-wrapped golfers for company, endeavouring to cope with both a tricky course and the challenging weather.

Rounding Fife Ness and walking in a southerly rather than easterly direction, we knew we were close to Crail. A long, boring section through a vast new holiday home park seemed to drag on forever, and reaching the sanctuary of the upmarket Shoregate pub was most welcome. We had achieved our aim of walking from Kirkcaldy to St Andrews. Not exactly as planned, but the whole route had been covered. Some sections more than once. The beers tasted good.