The first part of this cruise (Amble to St Abb's) was published in Bulletin 161 and was awarded the 1998 Naylor Noggin Trophy, but somehow my manuscript of the second part (St Abb's to Fife and back to Dunbar) was overlooked. I have no copy, so this is a re-write from memory. (My son Ed's account of his intrepid follow-on cruise in the same boat, from Dunbar to Perth and back to Amble, was published in Bulletin 162 and won the Naylor Noggin for 1999.)

The boat was Ed's 16ft 9" Dockrell, now re-named Dolly Peel; a heavy ballasted open boat based on a pre-war naval design. It is fitted with a lift-up hood just big enough to sleep under. A 4HP Mercury outboard is carried. This is valuable on this difficult coast where, because of the hazards, one cannot afford to be becalmed too long, and where one may need to power out at right angles to the steep North Sea breakers.

Readers will be familiar with the place name St Abb's Head because it features in every Shipping Forecast. However, for those cruising up to the Forth, it is significant as the place where the favourable North Sea ebb-stream is left, and the Firth of Forth ebb-stream flows against one. This makes St Abb's haven very useful stopping place – if the conditions are safe for entry! (Like most of the English northeast and Scottish southeast havens it becomes a death trap in easterly winds of any strength.) The dogleg entry is through a narrow and rock-bound channel. According to the pilot-book there are leading marks for the first leg, but I have never yet identified them. Once inside however, St Abb's is a snug and highly-attractive little haven, and I have always spent peaceful nights there.

The headland and the village are named after St Abba, an Anglo-Saxon princess who founded a unisex monastery at nearby Coldingham. Almost inevitably there was hanky-panky between the monks and nuns, who in those days were commonly young and virile people. Abba therefore had to get Cuddy (Saint Cuthbert, a patron saint of sailors) to come up by open boat from Lindisfame and sort them out. He may have used a double-ended clinker beach-boat, but more likely an Irish-style hide curragh, much easier to haul up at night. (There were no man-made harbours in those days.) Cuddy no doubt let the miscreants off with a good flogging, but presumably to erase thoughts of the sinful nuns he spent the night in the bitterly cold water of Coldingham Bay, and it was here that the alleged 'miracle' of otters drying him with their fur took place. (His genuine rapport with wildlife, and expert understanding of wind and wave, plus exaggeration by superstitious observers could account for his 'miracles'.)

Lovely old fishermen's cottages with their tiny flower gardens overlook St. Abb's harbour. The cliffs round the headland are outstanding in their grandeur, with fulmar, kittiwake and guillemot nesting, each species at its own level. I like to spend time ashore here, and this time I walked to Coldingham village, and saw the remains of the medieval stone-built monastery, believed to be on the site of St. Abba's original wooden building.

Slipping out of St Abb's harbour next morning I sailed northwest along the rugged coast, past Fastcastle Head and the great Thorness nuclear power station to Dunbar, a sizeable town. Dunbar harbour is much bigger than St Abb's, with wider approaches between rocky islets, but the final entrance is through a very narrow channel with high vertical sides. (A narrow walkway on one side was used to warp the fishing boats in before they had motors). Like most of the harbours in this area, Dunbar is very crowded, and most of it dries out at low water, but a dinghy can usually squeeze in. It has been the scene of many battles; the locals relish the story of Black Agnes holding the small castle at the harbour entrance against a besieging English army. With only a tiny garrison, she paraded on the battlements shouting defiance and derision at the besiegers. Eventually a relief boat sneaked in at dawn and landed food and reinforcements, so the English went off seeking a softer target. Centuries later Cromwell fared better. Faced with a vastly superior Scottish force he made a pre-emptive attack and routed them, then set about improving the harbour as a supply base for his campaign. Before he left he wrecked the castle, so now kittiwake nest in its ruined brickwork. Some of these birds sit on their eggs almost within arm's reach; I was glad to see that their nests had not been vandalised.

Dunbar was the birthplace of John Muir, who emigrated to America, and there founded the famous Yellowstone Nature Reserve. The tiny two-room apartment where he was born is now restored and open to the public, but his most fitting local memorial is the nearby John Muir Nature Reserve through which the (Lothian) River Tyne flows. This wonderful reserve can be reached by a coastal walk from Dunbar, which passes though the little village of Belhaven. This was once a seaport of much greater importance than Dunbar, but is now silted up and renowned only for its brewery. Nevertheless a dinghy could still get in for the night, either by lowering its mast to get under a footbridge, or at high water by sailing round the bridge and over the footpath, which is flooded at high water. This path leads over the sands on to the eastern side of the reserve, then through sandy grasslands studded with Viper's Bugloss, a handsome flower that thrives on the lime provided by the shell content of the sand. Even in good summer weather the lovely shoreline is almost deserted. The little River Tyne flows through the reserve and opens out into a huge expanse at high water but is little more than a trickle when the tide is low. It is a fine dinghy harbour but difficult to enter and leave.

On with my cruise. As the weather was right I seized the chance of crossing the Firth of Forth to the ancient kingdom of Fife. For some three hundred years the great English Kingdom of Northumbria extended to the Forth, which was also the frontier of the Roman Empire at its time of greatest expansion. On the far side of the Forth was the land of a mysterious race we call the Picts. We don't even know what these people called themselves, where they came from, because they left no written records. Then the invading Scots first conquered the Picts and eventually drove the English back to the Tweed.

I was heading for the part of the Fife coast known as the East Neuk. The great volcanic plug of Bass Rock was to port of my course, and I closed the rock for a better view of the fort and the rock's great gannet breeding ground. After the '45 some Jacobite rebels had been imprisoned in the fort, but when the guards were outside receiving the supply boat, they seized their chance and slammed the gate shut and locked their gaolers out! For three years the prisoners held out until they were offered a pardon on condition they vacated the fort and let the gaolers have their prison back. What with the plumage of the tightly-packed nesting gannet, and their droppings on the rock in between, Bass Rock has a white appearance. The consequent stench and the shower of bird-poo deter one from sailing too close.

East Neuk has a cluster of fishing villages, Elie, Pittenweem, St Monans, Anstruther and Crail. The Fife Coastal Path links them, and apart from Crail they are only a mile or two apart. James II described East Neuk as a 'fringe of gold on a beggar's mantle'. He was probably thinking of gold in terms of taxation capability, but in terms of visual attraction and interest it is still true. Each of the little ports has a different character. Pittenweem, although not the largest of the East Neuk ports, has by far the busiest fishing harbour, no doubt because its inner basin can be entered at all states of tide. There is no room there for visiting yachts and boats, but ample provision for them at nearby St Monans or Anstruther. However seeing that Pittenweem's outer harbour was temporarily clear, I nipped in to have a look round the ancient village, mooring temporarily against the centre quay. It is a fascinating little place, fine ancient whitewashed houses 'each irresistibly unique', many with the ancient builder's mark on their crow-stepped gables. Pittenweem is not yet 'gentrified', it is still very much an honest working port. I only stayed long enough to stretch my legs with a walk round to the fish market and a quick look at the packed-out yacht basin. Then away before fishing boats returned or indeed before I grounded on one of the boulders said be in the outer harbour. (The remains of illegally dumped ballast from the sailing ship days?) The little fishing port of St Monans (or Monance) is only a short distance up the coast. It is distinguished by an ancient church right by the waterside, and also by a tower further back. The tower was not defensive; it was built by a wealthy landowner because his wife was fond of skinny-dipping. When she wanted to bathe, someone would go up the tower and ring a bell to order off any of the local peasantry within sight. (It seems that feudal conditions lasted longer in Scotland than England!) The spectacular church is medieval, but puzzlingly is said to be on an even more ancient foundation dating back to around 400 CE! This would be after the Romans had withdrawn from the Forth, but before either the English or the Scots arrived in Scotland. There is a large ship model within the church. As with the rest of East Neuk there is fine coastal walking here, of which I took advantage before returning to my boat and on to Anstruther.

Anstruther is really three ancient ports, the modern harbour, the Old Quay by the church at West Anstruther, and Cellardyke a half mile to the East. Cellardyke however is no more than a short exposed stone pier, and the Old Quay can only be approached via the Dreel Burn, which for some reason now has a concrete obstruction. The modern harbour is quite large, and I found an empty place along the inner wall and moored up. There had been some kind of celebration going on with helicopter and lifeboat rescue demonstrations, but unfortunately the event was now winding down, but I was in time to chat to a crew aboard the restored fishing boat opposite the Fisheries Museum. The Reaper is a Fifie, a vessel of about 60 feet length, with straight stem and stern and two massive unstayed masts carrying lugsails; balance lug forward, and standing lug on the mizzen. I was told that in the old days they were sailed into harbour on the windage of the bare pole masts. A smaller fishing boat lay alongside, similar but with a stern raked to about 45 degrees. I think this was a Zulu, a northeast Scotland type, introduced at the time of the Zulu War. Both Fifies and Zulus have balance-lug mainsails, which make it difficult to go about, and require larger crews than with gaff rig. The hull of another Fifie was on the quay by the lifeboat station, but I don't know whether that one has been restored yet. Fortunately the Fisheries Museum was still open, and this was most certainly worth a visit. One would hardly associate these tiny havens with ocean-going ships, but the owner of the famous clipper ship Taeping lived in Anstruther, with the captain of the equally famous Ariel just along the road.

I later found that I had taken a fishing boat's place on the quayside, but instead of abuse the skipper politely asked whether he could help me move along a little way. Despite their different racial origins, Saxons south of the Forth and Picts to the north, the people seem just the same kindly and welcoming lot.

Before going on my sailing trip I made notes of people and places I might visit. I had hoped to get as far as St Andrews so had taken down what I thought was the telephone number of the Quaker Meeting there. The next day was Sunday so I phoned up what I thought was the Quaker's number only to find the answering lady knew nothing about Quaker Meetings. Fortunately she recognised my name and it transpired that I was speaking to one of the few DCA members in Scotland, Sue Davie, and I was very kindly invited to lunch after the Quaker Meeting! It all worked out very well. The first bus did not arrive until 11am, the time the Meeting was due to start. It was in an ordinary terrace house, and I didn't know where in the city. Luckily I saw a priest who was able to direct me; it was just round the corner! The Quakers at the Meeting could not understand why anyone should do anything so risky and uncomfortable as sailing these dangerous waters alone in an open boat. Yet the early Quakers had so many sailing and boating adventures, real 'Boys Own' stuff (outwitting various pirates, pumping a dangerously leaking ship all the way over to America, swimming under another to plug a bad leak, etc, etc, etc!)

After lunch Sue drove me back to Anstruther where we went for a short sail. Coming back into harbour I was about to motor into our berth, but Sue rightly insisted on doing it under sail. Having a motor one tends to lose sailing skills!

Next day I sailed west to Elie, where the harbour is no more than a long stone pier enclosing a sandy bay, with the rocks of Chapel Ness giving some shelter to the west. I arrived near low water when the haven had dried out, but wading ashore on the fine sand was no problem. Each of these little East Neuk ports is different; each has its own charm. Elie is now more of a quiet upmarket Edwardian seaside resort, but the huge granary on the quay shows that not so long ago it would have been busy with cargo vessels.

After a quiet night aground on Elie sands it was back to Dunbar, in fine weather and with a fair wind, to make my rendezvous with Ed. He then carried on with his epic cruise to the River Tay and Perth, and then all the way back to Amble. For me it was the long train journey home. LW