Walking the Edgeland

Memories, like waves, return: May on the Moray—Aberdeenshire Coast

Greetings from the moss,

The greening has continued, but the warmth departed with April. For now we are back to winter layers, trying not to put the heat on. It has been good to dip back into vibrant memories of this week last year, spent walking the coastline between Buckie and Portsoy. The Moray Coast Trail extends from Findhorn in the west to Cullen, finishing shy of the boundary with Aberdeenshire. The section I walked was to either side of Cullen, encompassing the old fishing villages—the Seatowns—of Cullen, Portknockie, Findochty and Buckie. Heading east from Cullen you find Sandend and Portsoy; thereafter things are a little less clear. Aberdeenshire Council no longer promotes its coastal footpath due to local problems with erosion, which makes it difficult to know which sections are passable.

Spring was shy then too, the first weekend the sea was restless, the wind cold, and I had to buy a warm hat.

First sight of the sea: angry spume, roaring racing horses, green slate grey, brine scented air, salt tang on tongue.

I thought I would share some memories with you, echoes of the exhilaration that walking the coast can engender. Thin trails through vegetation and over rocks that require concentration, and frequent pauses so as not to miss the views.

The beginning of May offered drama as the weather swung from cold grey to warm blue, while a seemingly endless heady trail of yellow gorse flowered its proverbial socks off. To coconut scent add sounds: the restless sea, and the birds that revel in the edgelands left between intensive agriculture and wild water. Of these, the most vivid are linnet, whitethroat, yellowhammer and skylark.

The path is edged with wildflowers: purple milkvetch, bluebells, yellow primroses, violets and, at the back of one sandy bay, early purple orchids. Amid the chaos of rocky foreshore—a geologist’s kaleidoscope—are gardens of pink thrift, wedged into the tightest of gaps, making soil of stone.

Meanwhile:

On the beach, my feet are palest white against the sand, as if the Moon herself has slipped down and pooled at the base of me. I cannot resist; I walk to where the sea laps its tongue against the land and stand watching the waves, letting them work slow hypnotic magic.

Later the same year, I explored more of Aberdeenshire’s eastern coast, and in June I will head north to Gardenstown, Crovie and Pennan. Again my intention is to sketch more than photograph, but I’m glad to have these phone memories to share with you. This week, I thought I would combine them into a short video.

I hope these recollections inspire you to walk the coast when you next get chance. If you’d like to see some of the sketches I made, you can do so here.

As sand adheres to wet skin, I know this coast will return inland with me, and that in turn, I will be back. I have tasted, inhaled, salt and it is now part of me.

Until next week, when the green of the woods around the moss will again have the upper hand. I did, however, manage to record the cuckoo for you—listen here.

If you enjoyed this short reflection, a one-off donation is a lovely ‘thank you’.

Each small drop is precious liquid for a new leaf and slow but sure growth as sketchbooks fill the pages with this place until they are ready to share with you.

Thrift really does grow everywhere—even in the concrete at Portknockie harbour