16 hours ago
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Standing in a Scottish seaside village, I am confronted by two smart red doors and a curious figure standing in a niche above them: a man, one hand clutching a staff, the other shading his eyes as he gazes out to sea. There’s a flintlock pistol in his belt and he’s dressed in tattered rags. Is it a tribute to locals who survived a night out in Kirkcaldy? No, there is a weathered plaque that I can just read: “In memory of Alexander Selkirk, mariner, the original of Robinson Crusoe …”
This is the site of a cottage where Selkirk was born in 1676. And suddenly a long-forgotten melody starts to play in my head, a sweeping lyrical tune that I haven’t heard in half a century. It’s shocking to discover what treasure lies forgotten between my ears, this being the theme from The Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, a German television series that was aired in the UK at the time of the Apollo 11 moon landings (and repeatedly until 1982). From the moment I saw it, I gave up plans to be an astronaut and decided to travel the world instead.
And now here I am back where it all began for Selkirk/Crusoe in Lower Largo in Fife. What is he looking at across the Firth of Forth? Perhaps it’s the Isle of May, now a national nature reserve, or Bass Rock lighthouse where I went aged five on my first ever sea voyage, little suspecting that my hero was staring across the waves towards me.
I am about to start out on a four-day section of the Fife coastal path, a 116-mile route that connects the firths of Forth and Tay and takes in some of Scotland’s finest seaside villages. It is also one part of the Beach of Dreams, a UK-wide coastal arts festival taking place from 1 May- June.
Leaving Mr Selkirk behind, I set out around a broad bay where the tide is retreating, bringing vast numbers of wading birds to feed on the exposed patches of sand. One of the joys of this walk, I am about to discover, is how the marine life subtly shifts and changes with each day. Here I’ve got great piles of razor clam shells and limpets, tomorrow will be yellow periwinkles, cockles and mussels.
Past the wooded point and a fine field of kale perched on a cliff, I come to one of the highlights: the Elie Chain Walk at Kincraig Point. No one seems quite sure how this unusual, and adventurous, coastal feature started, but now there are eight shiny steel chains to help any nimble person clamber down, across and up the jagged coastal cliffs. It should only be done around low tide and, be warned, one chain is rather short and attached to a wobbly bolt. The reward is access to a secret world of crashing waves, sea arches and mysterious caves.
Beyond lies the village of Elie, a beguiling mix of ancient stone houses and fun: there are foil surfers out on the water and a beachside sauna with a curl of wood smoke emerging from the chimney. I book myself in. There is also an excellent pub, the Ship Inn, famed for hosting cricket matches on the sands.
At the sauna, I meet Judith Dunlop who kickstarted the hot box (portable sauna) on the beach idea around here, siting a converted horse trailer in her home town of Elie. Now she has two further locations up the coast and competitors too. It is possible, I calculate, to walk most days and finish, or start, with a dip in the sea and a sauna.
Next day, I press on through the fishing villages of St Monans and Pittenweem (good cafe stops available at Bowhouse and Cocoa Tree) to meet artist Julie Brook at Anstruther. Julie wants to take me to see the location of an artwork called Tide Line that she is soon to begin building. Along with several other commissioned artworks around the UK, it will be a feature of the Beach of Dreams festival.
Anstruther itself is a hive of activity and well worth exploring. By the recently refurbished Dreel Halls, a historic church and town hall, there are two shell houses, buildings rendered with millions of sea shells.
Anstruther connects to another fishing village, Cellardyke, where there is a fine tidal swimming pool (and a sauna), and about a mile further along Julie points across the rocky inter-tidal zone, now being exposed by the retreating sea. “We’ll build it in there, a pathway that leads out into an area that is normally too slippery and hazardous for most people.”
Work will be carefully timed, ending each day with the arrival of the sea. We wander out and Julie is immediately assessing certain rocks for their possibilities. “It’s amazing what can be done with levers and human strength – I think I might build a causeway across that pool and skirt that outcrop.”
Her enthusiasm and vision are infectious. I want to get started immediately. “Will you bring the path back to land over there?” I ask, ever practical. A path must lead somewhere.
But Julie shakes her head. “No. It will end in the sea.” That’s the artist. A path can go nowhere, and still mean something. I can imagine a youthful Alexander Selkirk standing on the last stone, dabbling his bare toes in the waves and dreaming of escape.
Eventually, I say goodbye to Julie and head along the coast, reaching the pretty harbour of Crail and a hot bowl of soup in the Harbour gallery and tearoom. After an uninspiring yomp through a holiday park, I’m soon back to wild rugged rocks and the mournful keening of curlews. There are some great tidal pool dips to be had, but now I’m sauna-adapted, I can’t face it. Around the point of Fife Ness, the coastal scenery changes subtly again. The drifts of sea shells are covered in kelp, testament to the power of the north-easterly gales.
At Kingsbarns I enjoy dinner at the Inn, a short walk up from Cambo Sands beach – where there is yet another lovely sauna. The Inn is a successful example of a community-enterprise, well-run and friendly with good food and rooms.
My final walk takes me into St Andrews for a last sauna at East Sands with a sociable crowd of locals. A British sauna culture seems to be emerging: chattier than the Germans, hotter than the Scandinavians, and definitely not naked. I wonder what Selkirk would have made of it. In 1709, when he was finally rescued from his Pacific island after over four years, his rescuer, Captain Woodes Rogers, noted: “How much a plain and temperate way of living conduces to the Health of the Body and the Vigour of the Mind … one may see that Solitude and Retirement from the World is not such an insufferable state of life.” Once back in Scotland, Selkirk missed his lonely island, but found a spot that reminded him of it: at Kincraig Point where the Elie Chain Walk now exists.
Further information at Visit Scotland. Sawdays offers accommodation along the route of the walk at The Crusoe in Lower Largo (from £123), the Ship Inn in Elie (from £100) and Maybell Cottage in Pittenweem (from £175). Inn at Kingsbarns has doubles from £175. The Beach of Dreams festival starts on 1 May
