At St Baldred's Cradle in East Lothian, Scotland

St Baldred’s Cradle + Ravensheugh Sands, 5 June

We’d planned to head away somewhere for Richard’s birthday on June 5th, either to Fife’s East Neuk - my idea, as we haven’t visited yet with Raf and it’s always been a favourite place for us - or heading south to Northumberland, which Richard suggested as it’s a more direct route from East Lothian, driving straight down the A1, so we’d avoid the traffic tailbacks that are inevitable when navigating the Edinburgh City Bypass.

When I first launched this blog, I imagined that we’d be revisiting favourite places in Northumberland and Fife and Perthshire, and maybe heading to the west coast or north into Aberdeenshire. I imagined day trips, and maybe a long weekend trip somewhere. After Raf joined us last summer, I had a vision of us rewinding to the trips we used to take with the lads when they were a bit younger, when weekends were more often about adventures. But a combination of long working hours (for Richard) and Raf’s reactivity have made trips harder. Sticking to our regular walks, where we know the quiet places and also, crucially, the quiet times, has just made sense.

And so, on this first Thursday in June, after Richard had spent the morning working, we headed for this familiar and favourite East Lothian walk around St Baldred’s Cradle and on along Ravensheugh Sands. This place would be quiet on a Thursday afternoon and evening, we realised, and we could enjoy a longer walk where Raf would be off lead and we’d all feel more relaxed.

Arriving in the car park to find only a few other cars there, we realised that we’d made a good choice. A group of four campers were setting out just ahead of us along Lime Tree Walk, but we passed quickly (and loudly!) and headed on through the pine woodland that leads to the rocky shore above. It was low tide, and the air was heavy with the scent of seaweed as we wound along the shoreline, reaching a particularly rocky section and looping up onto the path that skirts the edge of the woodland before walking on along narrow paths lined in dense ferns, the air now heavy with humidity.

It was a relief to meet the cool air as we left the trees for the grassy headland, the view opening up as we arrived at the stone bench that sits on the very edge of St Baldred’s Cradle. We paused here for a bit, enjoying these layers of rock and sea and clouds, listening to the sea birds on the shore below us.

We would usually head along the beach at this point, past the rocky outcrop and on along the expanse of Ravensheugh Sands, but there were some campers near the outcrop, so we looped back into the woods, back into the humidity, and followed the path that winds up past Ravensheugh Log Cabin. From here, there’s a short but steep section that leads down to a spot that’s sheltered by a small cluster of pine trees - another popular spot for campers, but thankfully there was no one around.

This is a favourite spot, a spot where the woodland meets the shore, with this slightly elevated view along Ravensheugh Sands to Bass Rock in the distance. It’s a stunning view, whatever the weather may hold, and on this day it was golden. And here, with an empty beach ahead of us, Raf had the chance to run and run.

It’s natural to long for fresh perspectives and adventures that lie further afield, and it is good to fill your eyes and mind with new places. When I wrote the intro to this blog last year, I said: ‘This is a space to share our walks and moments from life on the coast, and also our journeys around Scotland (and beyond) as we adventure further afield with Raf… I’m longing for some new adventures.’ And I was longing for new adventures. Part of me still is. I’m really longing to escape people completely. But the journey between last September and now has also been a more complex one than I’d anticipated, and sometimes you just need to simplify the things you can. There’s something grounding in the familiar places, particularly when no two walks will ever look or feel the same as we shift through weather patterns and seasons.

There are two photos below with pebbles: one in brown tones, on a seaweed-covered rock, that I picked up to mark Richard’s birthday; the second, smaller, creamy-coloured and entirely smooth. A tactile pebble to roll around in your hand. I picked this one up for the lads, to mark this day, and placed it beside Bracken’s box when we got home.

A walk of memories, a walk of quiet celebration, and one where we simply appreciated being here, below this big sky, listening to the waves, watching Raf running along this shore with joy.