into the haar

Gullane to Eyebroughy, 7 September

It’s a grey, damp day here, one of those days that leaves you with a few options: either you embrace a positive spin and talk about the ‘coorie’ feeling of autumn when you just want to stay tucked up inside with a good book and a blanket, or you think, well, this is dreich. I’m partly in the latter camp while also thinking that it’s probably a great afternoon for a walk as the damp conditions may make the more coorie-loving folks choose to stay at home, so it might be quiet down the coast, which will be great for Raf and, by extension, great for us.

And the same was true on this walk from two weekends back. It was a grey-skied Saturday, not cold at all and with barely a breeze, but as we drove down the coast we could see the cloud hanging low over the Forth. We’ve always enjoyed walking from Gullane, either heading along the clifftop path to Gullane Point or in the other direction, towards Eyebroughy, but Gullane beach can be a hard place to start a walk for Raf as it’s always busy during the summer months, and if he’s triggered at the beginning it’s harder to reset and settle him into the walk.

On this day though, arriving in the car park and looking out to the haar that was floating like a blanket over the water, we felt this might be a good walk. And it was. There were a few campers, and a few other walkers who were easy to avoid, but this turned into one of our longest walks since Raf came to join us in late May.

I shared the first section of this walk in this previous post, ‘returning to the familiar’, where I also explained why this route holds such meaning for us. On that evening in late July we were accompanied by the soft glow of the setting sun as we headed along the dunes, the light casting an iridescent sheen across the sea.

Here, on this Saturday, we had the muted hues of dampness, but it was still beautiful. I’m drawn to this atmosphere, to the quietness you find within haar (a word for sea fog). It feels as if the world beyond that place, beyond those moments, has been pushed further into the distance. I find this very grounding, very settling.

And the further we walked, the more this weather enclosed us, the haar rolling in, until it felt as if we were walking inside the clouds. I shared a reel on TWATH, and I think it captures the mood. This is a route of sandy paths along the dunes, and stretches of rocky shoreline and small beaches, with points along the way where we’ve paused over the years when walking here with Harris and Bracken.

That slender curve of driftwood in the photo above was always our first stopping point. We’d come up from the long stretch of beach before this point, over slabs of pink-toned rock, and then round a corner to this spot, the lads running ahead. Harris would glance back to me, checking that we were indeed pausing here, and I’d smile: yes son, we’re stopping. Richard and I would perch on the log, with a view over the rocks to another beach beyond, and I’d dig out a granola bar for us to share, and slices of sweet potato chews for the lads, which they’d consume with relish. Then, having been recharged, we’d head on, the lads knowing that most of this adventure still lay ahead.

We didn’t pause here on this walk. We might have, but a couple were about to pass with their dog and we had to get Raf past this spot, down onto the beach, and distracted enough to diffuse his reaction to their appearance. We’ll save this spot for another walk, and I’ll share more photos.

If you saw my previous post from this location, ‘return to Eyebroughy’, you’ll know that this beach comes with a view towards Fidra island and lighthouse. On this day, there was no view. I walked up the dune that overlooks the beach and towards Eyebroughy island, atop the rocky outcrop, and watched as the haar rolled in with the waves. (I shared a reel of this moment.) Yes, you could say this was gloomy, and dreich is certainly a word that fits this scene, but again, there’s something about the atmosphere that haar brings. I wish now that I’d walked along the pebbly shore and taken more photos, but we were losing light quickly by this point, and still had to walk back - and wanted to avoid navigating this return route in darkness.

So we headed back along the dunes, striding out now, while also looking out for another spot where we used to stop: this driftwood shelter that’s tucked in behind the dunes. If you didn't know it was here, if you hadn’t stumbled across it one day, chances are you’d walk right past. This shelter was built a few years ago by a father and daughter - I only know this as there’s a little driftwood ‘plaque’ that was made by the daughter - and people passing (or maybe the family who constructed this) leave shells and pebbles here, tokens of walks enjoyed in this place.

The lads always had a different approach when we reached this spot. I’d lift Bracken onto the bench and he’d rest his paws (as in this reel), while Harris would always be sniffing around intently, busy busy, absorbing the scents of others who had stopped here. I remember one winter’s day, walking back from Eyebroughy as the rain closed in, and we sought shelter here as a squall passed through. I have a photo of Richard and the lads on the bench seat together, Richard looking grumpy, the lads looking equally gruff and damp and quietly judgemental.

On this walk, I lifted Raf onto the bench and he wanted back down straight away as there were sniffs to be explored. I’ve said from the beginning: this young lad feels like Harris’s son in so many ways. They share that same inquisitive sensibility and love of an adventure. And yes, that’s also what they teach us: however atmospheric the day, it’s still better being outside, with the damp of the haar settling onto your skin.

Gullane to Eyebroughy, East Lothian, 7 September 2024.

#eyebroughy #gullane #eastlothian #scotland