The small harbour town of Anstruther lies in the East Neuk of Fife - a corner of the Kingdom well known for its fishing heritage. The town features a word-famous fish & chip shop which has been patronised by royalty and Hollywood stars. Tourists flock to Anstruther to soak up the traditional atmosphere of a seaside location. The streets were more sedate today as things were just starting to move again following lockdown. We had booked ourselves on a boat trip to the Isle of May which lies five miles out in the North Sea.
We had visited the island a couple of years previously and the May Princess was full of seabird enthusiasts. The island is famous for being home to almost 100,000 puffins who throng the rocky outcrops. There are other species of birds which are rarely - if at all - seen on the mainland shore: namely razorbill, guillemots, kittiwakes and shags. Today's sailing was strictly socially distanced and the craft barely a quarter full. The operators would be lucky to recoup their costs but simply being up and running again is a major step forward in this most unusual age. I suppose a flat crossing is virtually unknown as we are out in the open sea here. The boat gently bobbed up and down as we approached the island but although this movement is insignificant to seafarers, it causes havoc when trying to take a photograph. The puffins can be spotted on the water and in flight well before you reach the island but there's little point in wasting precious battery power at this stage. There are plenty of excellent photo opportunities on dry land. Now a dedicated National Nature Reserve, the only permitted route to the Isle of May is with one of the official charter sailings. The warden welcomed as we disembarked and instructed guests to stay on official paths. This is especially important as puffins nest in fragile burrows near the surface and their homes could easily cave in if people randomly tramped around.
The first birds we encountered were terns. Their breeding area is close to the dock and it's well known in birdwatching circles that disembarking passengers are often subjected to a good old-fashioned dive bombing. It sounds (and sometimes looks) scarier than the reality. Yes, the terns do swoop alarmingly close at times, screeching for Scotland but they don't actually make physical contact. A nice bonus was the presence of a tern chick waddling around more or less at our feet as we stepped ashore. It hung around long enough for me to get my camera ready. The parents were keeping a watchful eye over this little buddy and I didn't intrude too much on its personal space. Visitor facilities on the island are minimal. Toilets are located within a shelter just up from the harbour so at least you have somewhere to hide from the rain should it appear - which no doubt it sometimes does. But you don't come over here to relax. There are hordes of feathered friends to meet. We hung around to watch the terns while plotting a rough course across the island. There are a couple of spectacular cliff areas and both provide essential viewing. Also worth checking out are the remains of the coal-fired beacon built in 1635 - the first permanently manned one in Scotland. It used around 400 tons of coal per year, requiring three men to keep watch. A grand lighthouse was built on the island in 1816 by Robert Stevenson (who else?). Almost 80 feet tall, it features an ornate gothic tower on a castellated stone building designed to resemble a castle.
Full automation of the lighthouse was introduced in 1989. They all seemed to undergo this process around this time, just as I was leaving school, thereby dashing my hopes of a dream career! A smaller lighthouse built to warn ships away from the Carr Rocks was decommissioned in 1887. It is now a bird observatory. Spotting puffins on May is a straightforward task. Look for any large boulders, rocky outcrops or grassy hummocks and there will be a group of them standing there. They are a sociable species who like to congregate and have a lengthy chinwag. This makes them ideal photographic subjects and even the most rudimentary point and shoot technique is bound to yield results here. We had lunch on a wooden bench and headed off in search of our targets. With 90,000 puffins frequenting the island, space on the vantage points can be at a premium and it's not uncommon to see a dozen or more birds jostling for position. Puffins lay only a single egg. Both parents incubate it and they share the feeding duties until the chick is ready to fledge. The young birds leave their nest burrow and make their way to the sea, normally under the cover of darkness to avoid predators. Puffins spend a large chunk of their lives at sea and can live for more than 20 years. A major part of their diet is sand eels and it's always nice to spot them with a beakful.
Despite having a time slot of a few hours before the boat sets sail for the mainland, the time does tick away at an alarming rate and it would be easy to find yourself in the position where you have only explored part of the island. You have to keep moving. We headed down to the viewpoint for the cliff face across a narrow and stormy sea channel. It seemed as if every square inch of ledge and hollow was occupied by a bird. A blanket of white against the stone. It brought to mind the fabled Bass Rock - visible from many points in Fife and the Lothians - and how people often (wrongly) perceive the sheen on the enormous lump to be bird droppings when in fact it is down to the birds themselves. Northern gannets mainly. Approximately 150,000 of these expert fishers inhabit the human-free island. That said, there must be a fair amount of poo on the rock as well. I don't want to think about the aroma! It is indeed a spectacular sight to witness a gannet thrust itself into a vertically downward dive and hit the water with an almighty splash. We saw several examples of this manoeuvre from the boat and it's even more breathtaking at close quarters, as opposed to viewing from afar on land. A true master of its marine territory and a pleasure to observe. Back on May, the plan was to traverse the island, stopping for puffin shots along the way before finishing at the other area of high cliffs. From there it wasn't far to return to the harbour.
The picture to the right was actually taken on our previous trip to puffin paradise. It attracted many likes on social media and Nicole turned it into a painting which adorns our living room wall. It does appear as if one bird is dolefully nodding along to the other's ranting. Perhaps a pictorial representation of many marriages? Anyway, let's move swiftly on. You repeatedly encounter fellow passengers as you traipse around the grassy paths and they are a mixed bunch. Serious photographers with telescopic lenses of phallic proportions, families out to marvel at the cuteness of the puffins, bird enthusiasts observing the habitat and not crazily snapping away for social media purposes. I've always enjoyed the photographic aspect of birding but I do enjoy watching them go about their business as well. I don't devour facts from bird books but am content to pick up pieces of knowledge here and there. With time elapsing, we headed to the high point of the island where this time we would be looking down at the rocky cliffs rather than staring upwards. You do have to be careful as there are no safety barriers protecting you from a sheer drop. I wedged myself behind a chunky boulder so I could free up my arms to scan the throng of seabirds within a stone's throw of me. They didn't seem perturbed by the presence of a dozen humans. The theory of safety in numbers was heavily weighted in their favour.
Pictured to the left is a group of razorbills. Other species in the vicinity were cormorants, shags, kittiwake, fulmar and guillemot. I took many photos of the birds in their native habitat and then it was time to return to the boat. The return trip takes slightly longer as it circles around the island to give passengers a view of the seal colony as well as the cliffs and rock formations. Over 2000 grey seals are born here annually and there an estimated 8000 of the marine mammals in residence. I've always thought they have a great life - filling their bellies full of fish and then slumbering upon a conveniently sited rock. Probably not too many predators around these parts either! Despite the subject's willingness to pose, it was frustratingly difficult to get a usable picture of a seal due to the choppy waters and the image bouncing around in the camera frame. As is often the case on these expeditions, there was a running commentary on board, telling you about the history of the island along with facts and figures relating to the wildlife. As we approached Anstruther Harbour, we decided to have fish & chips for tea. We knew the town fish bar was offering takeaway only but - in any case - we would normally sit at the quayside with our food. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever sat down in the restaurant. What we didn't quite expect was the queue to be snaking along the High Street and halfway up the next close! Clearly the waiting time would be long.
There are other chip shops in Anstruther but we decided to head a mile along the coast to the village of Pittenweem. Another fishing port, which retains a working fleet of boats, Pittenweem still hosts a fish market whereas the Anstruther catch these days is limited to a few crates of shellfish. Most of the craft docked at Anstruther Harbour are for pleasure cruising. The Pittenweem chippie is on the High Street which runs way above the harbour but alas the premises were firmly bolted. Covid hadn't released its grip. The chocolatier - which features a café - was also closed and we were forced to try our luck further along the coast in St Monans. I knew a fish & chips van could often be found here and there was also the Smokehouse Restaurant down at the pier. Perhaps it would be a case of third time lucky. The van was nowhere to be seen so we drove down to the seafront, which looks uncannily like the harbour at neighbouring Pittenweem. The evening sun provided some nice photo opportunities and the village can be seen in the picture above (the building in the distance is a windmill). The old fishermen's cottages in the East Neuk of Fife are now highly sought-after properties with a corresponding price tag. Yet half a century ago they could barely be given away due to a lack of facilities such as indoor toilets or running hot water. Incredible as it now seems, rows of them were demolished in the nearby coastal towns of Leven and Kirkcaldy. The allure of the quaint village must have tempted some people into spending the money to bring the cottages up to modern standards in places like St Monans and Pittenweem.
The Smokehouse was offering take-out food only but they had tables and chairs set up on the adjacent eastern pier. The problem was you had to pre-book your order and no remaining slots were available. Oh well, we would just have to head down to Leven which has a perfectly serviceable chippy and a lengthy promenade. We would miss out on the fishing village atmosphere while dining al fresco but needs must. Nicole popped to the loo and while I was waiting outside the woman from the smokehouse came out to inform me she could squeeze us in after all. Perfect! I plumped for the smoked hake and very nice it was. Nicole pushed the boat out (pun for the day fully intended) and ordered up lobster and chips. Naturally it was the priciest option on the menu but this was our first proper post-lockdown day trip together. We enjoyed our food with a view out to sea while doing the mandatory action of uploading pics to let the rest of the world know Team Fraser was out exploring again. Afterwards we went for a stroll around the harbour, climbing the wall to have a look at the crazy zig-zagging central pier which dates from 1596. The western structure creates a trio of breakwaters, required in the days when over 100 fishing boats plied their trade here in the early part of the 20th century. Somewhat predictably, that number is today vastly reduced. A nice touch was bumping into a family trying their luck with an old-fashioned fishing line. As it turned out, two of them were actually from our village!
A highly successful outing with lots of wildlife on display and a nice feed at the end of the day. I never tire of visiting the East Neuk and it still draws tourists from across the world. A pity the railway connection was removed in 1967 but that's another story (I don't get bored moaning about that either!). It was great to finally spread our wings following the home confinement. I rather enjoyed the first few weeks of lockdown, having a period of time to catch up on reading and other interests, particularly has work had been getting a little crazy beforehand. Financially I was better off as working from home means zero commuting costs. There was also the fact it was harder to spend your disposable income as you couldn't go very far (although I'm sure Amazon reaped the rewards). It seems a lot of people were in a similar position regarding finance, although it must have been devastating for those who saw their business vanish overnight and didn't qualify for the government furlough scheme. I enjoyed exploring parts of my local terrain I hadn't bothered to previously seek out. That said, pounding the same old circuits became monotonous. In my opinion, it was having the element of choice removed that made the whole experience difficult as well as fascinating. Let's face it, we won't go through this again....or will a second and more severe wave come?
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