I had a beautiful and eye-opening walk from my new home of Leith to this seaside neighbourhood
I don’t usually walk for fun, but this route was worth it
If I were a dog, the word ‘walkies’ would prompt me to run off and scrabble under the bed.
They’d have to drag me out by my back paws.
I’d be one of those refusenik dachshunds, rather than an enthusiastically lolloping hound.
I’ve never been one to walk for walking’s sake, unless we’re talking about the lockdown years, which were packed with aimless trudging to nowhere in particular
For this pup, it'll always be a punishment, rather than a pleasure.
I do have my morning and afternoon constitutionals, for the sake of my boring physical and mental health, but I tend to follow the same routes.
At least, then, I know exactly when they’ll begin and end.
So, when my other half asked me if I wanted to do a Sunday walk to check out a new route from Leith that he’d already discovered on his bike rides, I was less than enthusiastic. Still, I sucked it up, but mainly because he promised me a coffee and pastry at the end, and that we’d get the bus back.
We set off from Leith Links, which was full of galloping dogs, and a few furry slo-mos, who were trundling along like broken robot lawnmowers. Greetings, my spirit hounds. Just hide under the bed next time, they’ll never find you.
Then, we followed a path, past the allotments and round the back of the park, via an orchard - where did THAT come from?
I’ve lived in Edinburgh for almost my entire life, and yet the city continues to surprise me. I’m going to come back in the dead of night, and do some scrumping.
There was a paved path, flanked by fences, before Hansel and Gretel reached something that looked like an abandoned and graffitied substation, then a bucolic crossroads with a modern housing development that sprung out of nowhere. We headed right through that.
We were probably about 20 minutes into our walk, when we crossed over a road, then headed past a bunch of garages selling secondhand motors, and a McDonald's drive through. Oh well, at least we wouldn’t die of starvation on this march, though I’d have to be quite near the end to be tempted by one of their cheeseburgers.
This was the boring and unsightly bit.
We had a sing-song to keep our spirits up, as the cars zipped past. On the Road Again, by Willie Nelson, The Road to Hell by Chris Rea, then the End of the Road by Boyz II Men, just as he told me we were getting nearer to our destination.
“Still I can’t let go, it’s unnatural, you belong to me, I belong to you…”
Trudge, trudge, trudge.
At this point, there was a bit of a stench, presumably from Seafield Waste Water Treatment Works, unless I’d stood in something back in Leith Links. I checked my shoes, to be sure. I gave him a sniff.
Then, suddenly, one minute further along, a beach! How? What?
Of course, I knew when I moved to Leith that I was near the water. The seagulls and the haar are testament to that, as is The Shore, obviously. I’m not a complete twit, only a partial one. Still, for some reason, I didn’t imagine that there would be an actual sandy beach nearby. Geography was never my strong suit.
I suppose I just didn’t realise Portobello Beach was so long. I thought it was practically bookended by the amusement arcade and the Espy.
Anyway, we scrambled through thorns, down a vertiginous rocky bit, with me screeching all the way, and onto the sands.
I thought about stripping off, and skipping into the sea, while singing “I live near a beach, ha ha”, but I didn’t want to traumatise anyone.
Not that there were that many others around.
From here, we walked all the way to Portobello Prom, via the Edinburgh Cat and Dog Home, with the sound of barks carrying across on the breeze. Poor unclaimed souls. I hope that one day, they’ll all be down here, thundering along the sand, while carrying salty sticks.
We found a washed-up flounder, as yet unpecked by gulls, plus razor clams, cockles, and those perfect scallop shells that mermaids often use as chi-chi bikinis. There were trillions of lugworm holes. They made the sand look like a birthday sponge with the candles pulled out.
The sun came out, to beat on our backs, and I shed my woolly coat, and eventually my cardigan.
After about 20 minutes, or less, we were at the Prom.
My carrot at the end of the stick. Or, even better, a Flake on top of an ice-cream.
We headed for the High Street, where I wanted to check out a new place, Traade, which does excellent coffee and cakes, as well as offering vintage clothing, workshops and crafts. We had a sniff of all their fancy candles, and ogled the pottery.
It’s been a few months since I was last in Portobello.
There were other new things, too, including a pub called The Rusty Seagull and a secondhand book shop, Tills. Apparently, it opened way back in 2023, but has only been freshly discovered by moi.
And I was happy to see all the old favourites too. The Babyfaced Baker, The Portobello Bookshop, Tanifiki, Twelve Triangles and Friday Street Antiques, which was sadly shut on a Sunday.
Anyway, I was thoroughly recaffeinated and happy, to know that I live by the seaside.
Well, sort of.
“If we’re that close, do you want to walk back, then?” said my other half.
No thanks, I’ll be getting the 21 bus.
Comments
Want to join the conversation? Please or to comment on this article.