Today’s ride saw a bit of a change of tack, with us leaving the quiet roads behind and heading through quite a tally of towns and villages in order to get to the coast and back. The tantalising early morning sun disappeared behind the clouds just before we set off and it stayed dull most of the time, but at least we avoided any rain.
So we started off by heading through North Middleton in the direction of Borthwick. The wind was at our backs and we found we were riding a couple of gears higher than usual. Sadly, this was as much help as we got from the wind all day.
We zoomed down into Borthwick, then crawled up the other side, following the road as far as Mossend, where we turned right onto the B6372, then took the next left. This was another climb, taking us to the highest point of our trip, where we stopped to say hello to a field full of mini-pigs, who all wanted some attention. Well, all except one misbehaving pig, but the less said about him the better.
Happy as a pig…
We then enjoyed a nice long downhill stretch until we met up with Mayfield. We continued to freewheel down through Mayfield until we turned right onto the B6482, heading for Dalkeith. At the traffic lights, we briefly headed right up the A68 before turning left into a housing estate and following the road down and right, towards the Dalkeith High School campus. Here we were aiming to pick up a cycle path, which is part of the National Cycle Route no 1. After a little reassurance from the map that I had actually gone the right way, we continued along the path, and the signs we subsequently passed confirmed that my nose was indeed pointing in the right direction.
It was quite a strange experience using such an unfamiliar route to join up places that we know quite well, and it was certainly preferable to tracing the route we usually go by car. We soon arrived at the east side of Whitecraig, where we had to rejoin the road and cycle along to the west of the village, taking a right turn at the mini-roundabout. We followed this minor road for a few hundred yards, then we were off again onto another cycle track, which led down to the side of the River Esk. After a while, Colette had to stop me following the NCR route 1 sign pointing across a utilitarian and slightly decrepit-looking bridge, reminding me that we were actually heading for Musselburgh. So we carried on following the path along the east side of the Esk.
At some point, I realised that my hands were smelling strongly of pig, so we had a short stop so that I could wash my hands in the river, which I did under the gaze of a pair of swans.
We left the path behind as we entered Musselburgh, where the Esk flows its last half mile or so before being lost to the sea. Rejoining it involved getting onto the busy main road for a while and negotiating some traffic lights, before taking a left down a side street and back to the tranquility of the river bank. We paused on the path right at the mouth of the Esk to look at all the swans – I counted about 130!
Here we temporarily joined the John Muir Way as we followed the sea wall. Unseen to our right were the Musselburgh lagoons, the race course and what is reckoned by some to be world’s oldest golf course. Dominating the skyline to our left however was Cockenzie Power station, which closed down recently, and beyond that the familiar cone-shape of Berwick Law.
Berwick Law and Cockenzie power station
Cormorant
After a bit of confusion about the route of the path, we left the wall, rejoined it, then followed the path as far as Prestonpans. Our next landmark to locate was the station, which was thankfully well signposted, requiring a right turn away from the coast road and uphill. In planning the route I had spotted a minor road just before the station leading towards Tranent. We found it on the second attempt and followed it, up over the A1 dual carriageway, then we turned left along a footpath. This intersected with a paved path heading quite steeply up to Tranent, and we turned right to follow it.
We were deposited quite close to the middle of Tranent, where we had to get back into the traffic flow. Before long, a Greggs came into view, so we stopped to pick up some lunch. This time we asked for a carrier bag, which I hooked over my handlebars and off we rode, looking for a nice place to eat. Well, we took the Ormiston road and we left Tranent behind without finding anywhere suitable to stop. However, there was a nice bench waiting for us in Ormiston, opposite the cross. Around the bench there was a strong smell of spilled beer and fags, but without any physical evidence for them, and it was certainly not enough to put me off my steak bake and chocolate doughnut. They were gone way too quickly!
Ormiston Cross
A couple of ladies passed, saying hello and commenting that the rain can’t be far away. As we still had about 12 miles left, that got us back into our saddles and off in the direction of the A6093. Once we reached the main road we turned right, but after about a mile, we turned left to take some carefully chosen minor roads to avoid the A-road traffic. What I hadn’t realised was that the next right turn was on a blind bend, and I had a close shave when a car came round at speed while I was halfway across.
We followed this road to the B6367 and continued for a while till we came to a crossroads and I stopped to consult the map. Colette noted that the cottage on the corner was displaying a sign offering “visceral manipulation” and she asked if I was interested in giving it a try. I said I wouldn’t have the guts for it. She wasn’t impressed, as usual.
Turning right at that crossroads, we next came upon a hugely impressive pine with massive girth and a very unusually-shaped branch which headed out towards the road before turning vertically upwards. We slowed down, then an even more impressive set of gates came into view. This was the Lions Lodge at the entrance to Preston Hall. It looks as if the lion on the left is about to take a penalty against the one on the right!
One of Preston Hall’s footballing lions
Our next turn was right, which took us uphill till we met the busy A68 once more. We turned right, past the Stair Arms, then left onto the Vogrie road. From there it was back to our more familiar routes, but we went a bit slower than usual, mainly down to a significant headwind. In fact, Colette slowed down so much while going up one steep section that she stopped completely and fell over. She managed to pick up her bike and get back on just in time to be overtaken at speed by an eager young cyclist, who seemed to be having no issues with this particular hill.
The threatened rain never materialised and soon we made it back home after a round trip of 32.8 miles, completed at a leisurely 9 mph. We had just cycled to the seaside and back. Who’d have thought!