The Courier & Advertiser (Fife Edition)
Strolling sands for all seasons
Lunan Bay, Inverkeilor, Angus
Walking to the beach along country tracks and paths flanked by hedgerows, buckets, spades and picnic in tow, always brings back happy memories of childhood summer holidays.
Spotting golden sand and blue ocean across green fields always prompted a final scurry to the shoreline where boots and socks were swiftly kicked off as hiking succumbed to splashy paddling.
Often, it was the best way to reach the best beaches. These days, however, in a society geared to convenience, car parks close to the coastline tend to proliferate. Lunan Bay – one of Scotland’s most scenic and most popular stretches of sand – is no exception, the northern portion of the beach just a stone’s throw from parking backing on to the dunes.
Accessing the quieter southern section, however, calls for a little more commitment. One option is to wade across the mouth of the Lunan Water (easier at low tide and not for the faint-hearted at this time of year).
Another is to walk in from Inverkeilor, a very pleasant route crossing farmland before dipping to Corbie Knowe, a cluster of cabins, caravans and chalets overshadowed by brooding cliffs at the south end of the beach.
On a bright, dry winter’s day the bay is every bit as exhilarating and enchanting as it is during the heady days of summer and, setting out from Inverkeilor’s village hall, I soon left the community behind, sauntering between fields and past scattered rural steadings.
Beyond the farm sheds of Newbarns, a puddled track dips to a handful of hidden houses at New Mill, from where, with the whiff of sea air filtering into my nostrils, I strode towards Corbie Knowe.
The tight-knit encampment sprung up around a single cottage in the 1950s and ’60s when planning rules were less stringent and, while it appears chaotic, the cabins and trailers in this cherished little community are all neat and tidy and lovingly maintained.
Passing whitewashed wartime tank trap blocks incorporated into one of the gardens, I wandered out on to the beach, turning north and tramping the harder sand closer to the lapping waves.
Progressing along the beach, oystercatchers wading through the surf, I spotted the prominent ruin of Red Castle, on higher ground to the left.
Below, lurking in the dunes, is Redcastle Hide, a wooden hut used by birdwatchers and festooned with information on the bay’s birdlife. Close by is a well-preserved wartime pillbox.
The emergence of the Lunan Water from the west marked the end of my time on the beach and I headed inland, a track passing the former Redcastle Salmon Fisheries station, now a family home. Just on from it, a sturdy metal gate opens on to a path that climbs steeply to the castle. Perched atop a promontory, the red sandstone stronghold was established in the 12th Century by King William the Lion. Besieged in 1759, it was in ruins by 1770.
Now in imminent danger of collapse, the remains consist of a 13th Century fragment of wall and the rather precarious stump of a 15th Century tower. It is nevertheless a fine spot to sit and cast eyes over Lunan Bay and the rolling breakers of the North Sea.