returning to the familiar

Gullane, 31 July

Since last October, and then again, since April, our walks have involved many firsts. The first time to Gullane Point; the first to St Baldred’s Cradle, and then on along Ravensheugh Sands; the first to Eyebroughy beach, walking from Yellowcraig; even the first on the coastal path between Elie and St Monans in Fife’s East Neuk. And within each first, memories of specific points where we’d have paused together, the four of us, and specific places where we’d usually have taken photos.

And this walk was also a first: the walk from Gullane heading in the direction of Eyebroughy. A favourite route for us and one so rich, so loaded with memories: the windblown walks, when the dunes felt alive as the marram grasses thrashed around us; the summer evening walks, pausing at a log at a rocky outcrop to watch the sunset glow over the Forth; the enthusiasm as we approached a different log where the lads always paused for chews while Richard and I shared a granola bar, and where I always photographed the lichen-covered rocks, sometimes with Harris perched on one.

And that last time, back on Sunday 8 October last year, when we had sunshine and rain, the storm clouds gathering ominously even as we began this walk. I was enjoying the drama of the shifting light, and wondering whether the rain might sweep past us, over the water. We paused at a familiar rock, Harris and I, that unspoken: shall we? Harris looked so fine in his raincoat, and ready for the deluge that was to follow. The first drops of rain splashed against the rock as I took the photos, but Harris didn’t break his gaze. He knew what he was doing.

And then, as the heavens opened, we headed back along the dunes, rather than onwards, as we were clearly about to get soaked. Bracken following Richard, Harris with me. Sunlight glinting through the downpour that was enveloping us. I was happy as Harris was jogging along ahead of me, glancing back every so often to make sure that I was on his heels. I always was, of course. Even in the rain, I was happy.

That was the night when Harris’s breathing changed, right at the end of that walk, as Harris stood on the beach, looking at me, and I knew that something was wrong and that we had to get back to the car. He looked at me, and I sensed… something. I could never have imagined what was wrong, or that this would be our last walk in the rain.

So here we were, back on this route, on Wednesday 31 July. Our first time here with Raf. If you follow us on Instagram you’ll know that young Rafferty has developed some significant reactivity since joining us in late May. Our trainer refers to this type of reactivity as ‘stranger danger’ where Raf sees people as a threat. Not uncommon, it seems, but certainly unknown to us having never experienced this with the lads. On this Wednesday evening we tried our best to avoid triggers, parking elsewhere (away from the car park) and walking along a path that edges the golf course to reach the far end of Gullane beach, again trying to avoid the people we knew would be here on this beautiful summer’s evening.

The further you walk on this route, the more interesting it becomes. The first section takes you along the rocky shoreline and on past a small beach - rocky at this point, having been stripped of sand over last winter, as many beaches were along this stretch of coastline - to an area of dunes and then on to a long sandy beach. From there, you can walk on along the dunes, winding your way along the shoreline to the next beach, and the next stretch of dunes, and then onwards… and onwards, until you come to Eyebroughy beach. All in all it’s around a 9km walk there and back to Gullane, depending on whether it’s low tide and you’re walking along the shore or heading deeper into the dunes.

On this walk, we were already losing daylight as the sun was setting, and we didn’t want to have the return route in darkness, so we walked as far as the first long stretch of beach and let Raf have a great off-lead run as there was no one around. We walked past the rock where Harris had perched on that Sunday and I replayed those moments in my head, even as Raf now ran ahead of me, following Richard along the path, full of enthusiasm for this new adventure. Complex memories and new memories being created side by side.

I looked out over the water and knew how much Harris would have loved this walk. Bracken too, of course, cantering along after his Dad. But I looked at this glowing light and thought of Harris, with that mixture of sadness and also gratitude for what we had. ‘Firsts’ are complex, and it’s okay to acknowledge that sadness can sit right alongside the lightness of new experiences, where I can look on at Raf’s alert, fully engaged enjoyment of a walk while also remembering the complete ease and ‘in sync-ness’ of our life before.

I’m looking forward to sharing a lot more from this route as we head in autumn and cooler, quieter days when we can be outdoors for hours. Some of my favourite walks here have been over the winter months, with the wind whipping in off the sea. Or those cold, calm days when the light is so sparkling and clear. I’m looking forward to sharing these walks, and perhaps finding some new places to pause and new rocks to perch on.

Gullane, East Lothian, 31 July 2024.

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