Charlie Ellis enjoys some Broughton byways
My walk from Stockbridge toward Leith began not by the river but on a tangent: a gentle wander along Heriot Row and past the Scotland Street Little Library, a charming, if chronologically confusing, trove containing the latest Spurtle alongside ‘vintage’ issues from early 2012.
Continuing along East Claremont Street, the morning’s rhythm broke only when a hearse emerged from Claremont Crescent: a sharp, unexpected moment of reflection.
The necessary perk-up
By the time I reached the junction with Broughton Road, I needed a boost. The DelishYoss coffee kiosk beckoned, presided over by proprietor Yossi Mazon.
Before ordering, I glanced over the fence and took in the rapid transformation underway: what had long been an overgrown bowling green was now a field of dark, damp earth, scraped bare and poised for construction.
While chatting with Yossi, I learned that although the closure of St. Mark’s Path had cost him passing trade, the ensuing burst of local publicity (particularly from the Spurtle) had delivered a welcome uptick in custom – one he hoped might linger.
As a café reviewer, I’m most at home among the fruitier, lighter brews championed by specialty houses – the likes of Cafen, Kul, and Ante in Spurtleshire – so I was intrigued by what I might find here. I ordered a macchiato, and as Yossi worked, the precision in his movements inspired immediate confidence.
The result stood in rich contrast to the bright, acidic specialty norm: a dark, satisfying brew crowned with a thick, resilient crema. This kind of diversity matters. We should worry less about style of coffee and more about the craft and care which go into the cup. In this case, the execution was spot-on.
Pondering the past and future
With another customer waiting, I stepped aside, sipping the small dark potion while gazing out over the nearby bridge. Below lay the remnants of Powderhall Station. As I finished the last of the crema from my paper cup, my thoughts turned to the area’s duality: the past, with the phantom chug of trains; and the future, imagining this stretch of line reborn as an active-travel route toward Abbeyhill.
The adventurous route
In an adventurous mood, I might have taken the thrilling alternative route back to the Warriston Path – though it’s not one I could responsibly propose in a public forum. It would involve a scramble through the undergrowth in the northwest corner of Redbraes Park, followed by a squeeze through a fence hole which threatens every backpack strap. I would then traverse the secluded railway section over the Water of Leith, where the sheer thickness of the trees creates a mysterious, urgent atmosphere which always quickens my step.
At the far end, another tight squeeze – prompting yet another mental note to ease off the sweet treats come Christmas – would deposit me near the mysterious rusty safe.
From there, a muddy trek overlooking allotments leads back to the mainstream path network (aka National Cycle Route 75).
From here, I might have continued along the path and, via Largo Place, to Leith Library, bumped into an ex-student and a local author (Tim Bell), and typed up a quick précis of my well-caffeinated morning wander. I'd have mused on a simple walk, a good coffee, and some questionable route choices; just enough to reaffirm the quiet pleasure of wandering without a script.
Edinburgh always rewards the detour, revealing new textures and oddities each time I let myself stray off the path.
