Field & River: The Lymphoy Road - Water of Leith Loop

Mid-winter. It’s time to shake off some of that January lethargy as we set-off on our walk – heading up the drive past the National Trust for Scotland’s Malleny Gardens and stepping onto the rough road at the top running east. 

There is an air of dormancy over the world this afternoon to match our own of the past couple of weeks, and with a passive, overcast sky above it is cold yet not bitter. Fields on the high side of the road are ploughed and sown, ready and waiting for a new season.

It is not long, however, before we tune into signs of life. Blue tits are singing ‘si-si-chu-wewewe’ in the bare boughs above and a pair of wrens alight, tails erect and twitching, on fence wire to our right before disappearing back, mouse-like, into the undergrowth. Green shoots of new crops push through in the furrows and - easily missed at first glance – woodpigeons, hundreds upon hundreds – forage, cryptically camouflaged, among them. A couple of squadrons take to the air we pass, wings slapping loudly upon take off.

The steeper, less regular, fields which slope down towards the Water of Leith on the north side of the road are given over to pasture. Here, horses and sheep munch hay from bales. They move little, other than the side-to-side motion of their jaws, conserving precious energy. By one gate, a small black pony stands beneath a holly bush, peering dolefully through a long, bedraggled fringe. A sprightly robin appears, hopping through the mud from clod to clod before perching in the holly next to its equine friend, enchanting yet a little melancholy, like a Christmas card someone forgot to take down.

A slate grey cloud base hangs just clear of the Fife hills, but beyond, farther north and west, the sun is shining, illuminating the tops of snow-capped mountains as far as Schiehallion and the Ben Lawers group. As this inspiring view opens out, with the city spread out below, it feels an appropriate spot to ruminate upon the old year past - and to contemplate a new one now begun.

After half an hour or so walking through the fields, we emerge onto Currie’s Kirkgate. We turn left and almost immediately leave the road again, taking a short access path between houses to join the Water of Leith walkway, which tracks the route of the former Balerno Railway line, for the second half of this needle’s-eye loop. From field to river we go, the water’s chatter now our constant companion.

In contrast to the stony Lymphoy Road, the walkway is newly surfaced, and we pick up our stride. I have reached that stage of my walk where, after a while, the slight friction of my feet within my boots has generated a gentle warmth and, for a minute or two, I simply savour this comfortable, comforting sensation and the meditative, metronomic rhythm of my steps beneath me. After a while I look up and see a cock pheasant, resplendent in racing green and bronze, on a grassy bank to my left. As if showing off that he can outdo my pedestrian effort, he suddenly breaks into a roadrunner-like sprint, making off down-slope. There are more birds here too, goldfinches twitter ‘tippit-tit tippit-tit tiuu’ in the tops of trees river-side and we spot a delightful grey wagtail on the moss-covered bank by the water’s edge.

As we near Balerno again, at a meander where the river arcs close to Lanark Road, a wall of concrete reinforcements runs along by the path. I am transfixed by a group of small trees which have successfully taken root in cavities therein, trunks moulded around the hard edges of the concrete for maximum purchase. It is a reminder that, whether it is coping with the season’s extremes or the vagaries of human activity, life – as ever – finds a way.

With cafes at Balerno and Currie offering a half-way stop should you need it this walk can be started at either end and is a great way to help achieve your 10,000 daily steps.

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Published in Konect February 2024

Author: William Weir

All photos by William Weir