Edinburgh to St. Andrews, the Long Way – 21/4/2007 – 22/4/2007

I may have left my camera's cable behind in Ireland, so you will have to cope without photos for a wee while. Brian and I left Edinburgh Saturday morning with fully-laden bikes. We cycled about 90miles to St. Andrews via the Fife Coastal Path, including a few epic wrong turns. My guess is 10-15mi worth based on the FCP website's trail map and some guesstimation. Brian got his cycle computer to start recording distance somewhere before Kirkcaldy, which he took the time to teach me to pronounce properly.

The joy of plenty of daylight made for a lazy start on Saturday morning. The Met Office’s random forecast generator suggested the rain was in Fife and would be heading to Edinburgh as we headed away. Oh well, we would see. I had my rain gear and lead-lined sleeping bag, so I wasn’t too worried, except perhaps for the uphills.

We found our way to the Forth Bridge and across. I pointed toward the best playground ride ever and said it was worthy of a return trip without gear. We dropped onto the road and went looking for the Fife Coastal Path. I corrected our first wrong turn and we ended up on the Fife Coastal Tourist Route, which is not the same thing. A few miles brought us to a junction with FCP signs and soon we were in business. The route started off reasonably signposted, with dirt track and gravel paths along the water (the north coast of the Firth of Forth) and occasional diversions for bicycles onto quiet roads when the cycle people thought the coastal path was too unfriendly for bikes. Initially, we were following diamond cycle signs posted for cycle route 1. Later, these signs would become problematic.

We took the first feed Christine break just above an old ruin of a church that Brian wanted to buy and fix up, just at one of the cycle/pedestrian divergences.

In Burntisland, the cycle path diverged from the footpath. We found a swing hanging from a tree and took a quick break. A couple of local kids came over to swing, too, and show us how it’s done. We continued onward and upward. A few turns later, deep gravel and steep uphill meant pushing the bikes rather than cycling. I got a visit from the bonk fairy just then, too. Very well timed. I did the mathS (hi Brian) and figured it was well beyond an hour and the first stop’s food was long burned away. Brian asked if I wanted to stop just there. Of course, I said no and kept pushing. I couldn’t look up because my eyes were struggling to focus, but I hate stopping in the middle of a hill. We got most of the way to the top when a convenient break point presented itself. The remainder of the hill looked rideable and I got help pushing my bike up the last few metres to the top, so I acquiesced to a stop. Food, water, and a little time made everything feel better and we continued.

Upward meant downward. After a couple good fakeouts, we found ourselves on a very rewarding downhill zoom toward Kirkcaldy. Once in Kirkcaldy, the signposts directed us straight into the middle of their local carnival. I don’t remember what the word for them here is. Brian asked one of the police officers what the best way around it might be and she pointed us around toward the storm wall. Brian asked me if there was anything there I could eat, nodding toward the food vendors. My answer, probably not. As we pushed our bikes through the crowd, I looked at the options and confirmed that no, fair food is not my food. We cycled along the storm wall along with a number of walkers escaping the fair crowds. Occasionally, carnie rides zoomed overhead. I wondered if they could make a ride that zoomed people around like that and then chucked them out to sea. It would be so much more interesting.

Downward meant upward again when I made a trail mistake. The signs we had been following for CR1 that had been so nicely staying with the FCP took a turn to the left in Kirkcaldy. Long uphill followed. We took a break at a shop we found on the outskirts of town, figuring it was time for a preemptive feed Christine break as well as a feed Brian chocolate break.

We cycled onward, getting farther from the coast and wondering when we might find it again. Eventually, we admitted to each other that we both thought it was the wrong path. We reached the town of Thornton. Trying to leave and improvise a trail back toward the coast, we ended up looping back into Thornton and aimed to exit the way we came in. A quick chat for directions resigned us to returning to Kirkcaldy and rejoining the path there. If we were fortunate, Dysart might give us a slight detour to not retrace all of the miles back to Kirkcaldy. We stopped at the same shop and picked up supplies for dinner. I forgot the matches so it took two trips.

We found Dysart and the FCP again. My guess is our wee detour was good for somewhere around 8-10 extra miles, but we had plenty of daylight left. The FCP lacking the cycle signs meant that it truly was a walking path and I would have enjoyed my shiny bike. Dysart led to the Wemysses and another stretch of road that made me feel like we missed something. Thankfully, water stayed within view this time. We found the trail soon enough and enjoyed more offroad fun between towns. Another detour in Methil added to our miles for the day and convinced both of us we didn’t want to live in Methil. Once back on the trail, we found our way into Leven, actually faster than I expected. Kirkcaldy is in the middle of section 2 of the trail on the online map and Leven is more than halfway through section 3, so I was impressed at what good time we made. Nearly out of Leven, Brian’s pannier rack chose to break.

Tinkering and offers of outside assistance took a wee while and I felt my motivation to cycle farther fade. The single point of motivation in my mind was reading a trail description that said after Leven, the trail got nicer and more remote. It was enough to keep going and enough to motivate me to haul my fully-laden bike up the stairs after Lower Largo. We had to disassemble and reassemble to get Brian’s bike over the stile. Mine was still light enough to be chucked over the railing, but only just.

We scared somebody’s dog not with the commotion but with the bikes. He did not want to walk past us and needed to be carried. Darkness was approaching. The first proposed campsite by the ruin of a house was rejected when we asked the girls with the dogs about camping and they pointed farther along. We found a site a few hundred metres away that looked equally nice and had remnants of a fire. It also had a great view and offered some protection from the wind should that decide to pick up. Approved, it became home for the night. In true Scottish camping tradition, Brian brought the whisky. He brought Drambuie, his only whisky success with me so far.

It rained overnight, but stopped sometime in the morning and just threatened to start again. We diverted from the official trail when it looked unrideable, choosing instead the farm tracks that looked well walked and cycled. A couple of cows mooed in protest as we entered their field. We followed cycle paths rather than the FCP and asked a cyclist which way would get us back to it. He suggested that we may find the FCP to be less than hospitable for bikes. He turned out to be right occasionally. We found our way back to the trail at Elie. For the most part, it was nice riding, except for the occasional stile or locked gate that forced us to haul our bikes precariously over or around. Another section made me miss my shiny bike. Or wish my not shiny bike had nobby tires.

The FCP followed its usual tradition of tracing the coastline and then disappearing in the villages. As we cycled east along the coast, The Isle of May and the Bass Rock came into view. The sun peeked out from behind the clouds, too. I didn’t know it at the time, but despite the hauling heavy bikes over the occasional barrier, we made good time.

Crail came and went and we found ourselves worn out and back on the road for a wee while. Cycling to the coast looking for the FCP sent us to a golf course. No obvious cycle route was visible – the FCP itself was basically just walking along the beach through the sand and over a couple of piles of rocks. Not very bike friendly. Exhausted and frustrated, we decided to stay on the roads to St. Andrews and return later to finish the trail on foot. About an hour, after one more good lounge and feed Christine break, we were zooming down the hill into St. Andrews.

The sun shone overhead and the weather was warm. I forgot for a moment that our journey wasn’t finished. We had to cycle a few more miles to the train at Leuchars. We picked up some food and headed out of town hoping for a nice picnic spot to present itself. Brian led the way and got us out of town easily enough, but with no idea how much farther to Leuchars. Then Brian got a visit from the bonk fairy. We took a feed Brian break at a bus stop outside a posh hotel. I got directions from them, too. Once Brian was functional again, we cycled up the road a wee more, turned right at the next village and climbed one more substantial hill. The view from the top looked very familiar. Guardbridge lay ahead and Leuchars was just in the distance. One more good downhill zoom followed and put us on the cycle path and FCP to Leuchars.

Considering we did the trail without a map and it wasn't always well signposted, I think we did pretty well. The first day was probably about 50 miles, about 2/3 was bike path and dirt track and the other 1/3 was on roads. Overall, it was a great weekend away. I would love to repeat day 2 with my shiny bike and no overnight gear and truly enjoy bouncing over rocks up and down hills and not mind the occasional carry over barriers.