It’s a clear morning and the sun is already casting glittery shadows on the surface of the sea. We are going on a walk to Anstruther, Scotland. Will you join me?
The wind is whipping through your hair as you make your way to the cobblestone entrance of the Fife Coastal Path. It isn’t a menacing wind, but more playful, tangling and untangling your curls, kissing your forehead as you stare out at the indigo blue expanse over your right shoulder. The path leads you through the backyard of a handful of homes perched peacefully at the sea cliff’s edge. The only sounds are the wind ruffling through the day’s wash on the clothesline and an occasional seagull’s cry to its mate. In the distance, you see a great rectangle of emerald-green – a field or a crop, perhaps. As the little trail winds up and down the rocky lip of the cliff, you are amazed to discover the expanse of green is a field of broccoli. The vegetables are the size of your head and perfectly uniform in color. Following the length of the field, the path winds downhill in a few short switchbacks and a tall bunch of yellow wildflowers nearly bonk you in the face as they dangle over the trail. You pause to admire the sapphire blue of the ocean as a backdrop to this perfectly cheerful yellow bloom. What colors! Even the green of the grass appears to glow under the bright sunlight.
Up ahead, you see a golf course. Walking along the outer edge of the green, you pause to cover your eyes and watch the golf ball soaring, thankfully, far above your head. Might as well hurry through this part, as you don’t want to get accidentally hit by a stray ball. Anyways, you will need your head intact to enjoy the rest of the walk.
A few hikers in boots and folded down wool socks pass you, smiling. ‘Ello!’ you both call into the wind. The view is gradually getting more incredible as you are coming closer to the island offshore, the green, craggy monolith of The Isle of May. The Isle is home to one of the area’s most diverse populations of birds and you can only imagine how loud the cacophony of all those voices would be.
You round a bend and come to a horseshoe beach with golden sand and algae-covered rocks decorating the shoreline. Now you are to the edge of the town, walking along a narrow neighborhood street on a sidewalk that is just over a foot wide. You reach out your right hand and let your fingers gently drag along the stone wall separating the sidewalk from the yard, just to feel its cool roughness against your soft skin. Winding through the neighborhood, where nearly every block is spilling lipstick-pink wild roses and purple butterfly bushes over the wall, just far enough over the sidewalk so you can smell the sweet fragrance, you spot a building decorated in sea shells. You cross the street to get a closer look. Different shaped white seashells have been inlaid into the concrete wall in spiral patterns that remind you of the doodles you drew on every homework assignment in high school. Huh, that’s interesting.
One more block and you’ve made it to the village just north of Pittenweem. It’s a little larger, but similar in architecture with whitewashed homes and red tile roofs. At least there’s a bookstore! That’s where you’ll head first.
Thanks for coming along on my walk!