A Walk Around Cramond
THERE are quite a few wee islands in the estuary of the Forth. Some have been home to monks, others to prisoners and even to victims of the plague.
The Bass Rock is the location of the world’s largest colony of gannets.
Each island has its own character, but there’s one that’s just that little bit different – and that’s the island I’m heading to today. Not by boat, but on my own two feet.
Twice a day, when the tide retreats, the island of Cramond is connected to the shore and we can simply walk to it.
Just make sure you leave enough time to walk back again or you might have longer to explore the island than you intended!
Of course, the times of the tides vary each day and finding a convenient time slot that just happens to marry up with a good weather forecast can call for a bit patience.
It’s well worth checking out the RNLI Queensferry’s excellent website beforehand, which clearly shows the earliest and latest safe crossing times.
Cramond village sits at the mouth of the River Almond. Its waters have flowed all the way from the hills of North Lanarkshire and from it the village takes its name – “the fort upon the Almond” – “caer” being a fort in Old Welsh.
You can still see the
Willie Shand explores an intriguing village on the Firth of Forth.
outline of the foundations of that Roman fort dating from around AD 140. The Roman bath house at Cramond is one of the best preserved in Scotland.
To the Romans, these bath houses were more than just a means of keeping clean. They were more of a social meeting place.
This may have been the better part of 2,000 years ago, but even then it worked on a form of central heating with hypocausts and flues distributing heated air through the walls and floors.
There was nothing primitive about it. They’d start off in the Frigidarium, or cold room, and progressively work their way through increasingly warmer rooms until reaching the hottest room close to the furnace.
Strangely enough, this hottest room was named the Caldarium. From there, bathers would end with a dip into a freezing-cold plunge bath.
The Cramond fort was also an important station on the military route connecting the English Watling Street and the Antonine Wall.
Today, it’s a quiet and tranquil village far removed from the noise and bustle of nearby Edinburgh. The mouth of the river is filled with pleasure yachts and cruisers – none of which will be going far for the next three or four hours as the tide is already on the ebb.
Little more than 200 years ago we might not have found such a peaceful scene around the harbour.
Before the early 1800s, between the river mouth and Cramond Brig a couple of miles upstream, there were some five mills being powered by the Almond. Cargo vessels would bring raw materials and take away the manufactured products.
On the pleasant riverside walk to Cramond Brig you’ll pass the remains of some of these old mills and their tumbling weirs. Ships would bring iron from Russia and Sweden to be refined at Cockle Mill.
The iron was then taken to Fair-a-far Mill to be turned into the likes of tools, chains, anchors and cart axles.
And if you needed nails for a particular job you’d surely find something suitable within the great variety on offer – clasps, pounds, brads, Flemish, sheathing, sprigs, scuppers, deck-head spikes . . . I never knew there were so many different types!
For most of the way, the River Almond Walkway holds close to the riverbank, but there is one rocky outcrop that the path needs to climb over.
Hope you’re feeling fit, as we leave the level riverside path to climb a long, steep flight of 79 steps. Never mind, what goes up must come down!
Auld Cramond Brig only carries foot traffic these days, but that’s no shame to it as it’s been carrying folk across the river since 1488.
Just a stone’s throw beyond the bridge are the ruins of the miller Jock Howieson’s cottage. Sir Walter Scott tells the story of how, one day, while travelling incognito, King James V was passing this way when he was
attacked by gypsies at the bridge.
Jock came to his rescue, not knowing this was the King, and his good deed was well rewarded when the King gave him all the lands of Braehead.
There was only one condition: every time the King crossed the bridge or visited Holyrood, Jock and his heirs should have a ewer of water and a basin at hand for the King’s use.
It’s a service that was indeed upheld through to George IV, Queen Victoria and George V.
But Sir Walter Scott was not the only writer to leave his mark on Cramond. This was a popular haunt of a young Robert Louis Stevenson.
At the Cramond Inn, one of his favoured watering holes, he carved his initials into one of the tables!
What better way to fire the imagination of the lad who gave us “Kidnapped” and “Treasure Island” than to cross over and explore Cramond Island. Or to give it its old name, the Isle of Leverith.
When exposed, the threequarter-mile-long stretch over the causeway takes about 15 to 20 minutes to walk, and follows a long line of tall concrete pillars that remain a legacy of less peaceful times.
These were part of our wartime defences, used to stop torpedo boats sailing between the island and the shore and protect the Naval Dockyard at Rosyth. Concrete beams would slide into the grooves in their sides, creating a solid wall.
The islands of the Firth of
Forth played a key defensive roll during both World Wars I and II, supporting searchlights and heavy gun batteries.
The brick and concrete buildings and bases remain and are very much a feature of any walk round the island. Although the guns are gone, the curved tracks that once served twin six-pounder guns remain.
Cramond Island is a lot bigger than it appears from the mainland, covering about 19 acres. From the end of the causeway an easy clamber over the rocks joins a grassy track leading to the highest point on the island – the pinnacle.
From here, that wee bit of height gained gives us cracking views in all directions.
The Forth Bridges are easily spotted, as is
Barnbougle Castle round to Hound Point. Out in the Firth between us and the shores of Fife is the little island of Inchmickery.
Turning our gaze south, there’s Arthur’s Seat rising above Edinburgh. You can easily see how this wee island was so valuable for defence.
The centre of the island is covered in trees and colourful broom, foxgloves and bluebells.
The receding tide has exposed a vast area of lovely sands reaching far out into the Firth, but around the island the beaches are much coarser with crushed shells and rocks.
The island has been uninhabited since 1947. Like the wartime lookouts, only scant ruins remain of the old farmhouse that once stood in its middle.
Sitting on the beach enjoying the sunshine and listening to the waves lapping on the shore, it’s easy to forget we’re only
four miles from the centre of Edinburgh.
It’s also easy to forget time, which is maybe not the best of ideas on a tidal island! ■