They may still call it Auld Reekie, but Edinburgh deserves a better nickname

Is there ever a good time to travel to Edinburgh, from a weather perspective? During my weeklong stay in Scotland I received varying answers (Maybe in May? Maybe in September? Just don't count on sunshine...), but assuming that the weather is usually unpredictable anyhow and often bordering on not-fit-for-Texans I decided that a visit in early November was just as much of a crapshoot as a stay at any other given time of the year. 

With airfares relatively low and my needing to burn off some systemwide upgrades before they expire at the end of the year a six-night stay in Scotland's capital seemed just the thing to do. It didn't take much to talk Birgit into joining me, and so we arrived on Halloween at EDI, within an hour of each other.

As usual, I had booked our Airbnb, located centrally in the New Town, which with its many chimneys is partly responsible for the city's nickname (Scots for Old Smoky). Coal no longer is used to heat homes, but with drizzling rain and centuries of accumulated soot the city doesn't look especially clean. Most of the parts that tourists will visit have been built from blocks of sandstone, which soaks up moisture and has taken on a distinct patina over the centuries. Let me put it this way: For most of our time in Edinburgh, the city appeared gloomy and somewhat smudgy, not at all a sparkling gem of medieval architecture the way I had hoped, but even in the rain Edinburgh has an interesting charm and is anything but smoky. 

Armed with our umbrellas and raincoats, Birgit and I spent the first three days exploring the Old Town with its Royal Mile, Calton Hill, Edinburgh Castle, and all those other sights that are on the tourist circuit. For the late afternoon of our arrival day we had signed up for a free walking tour, but as it turned out, nobody else (except the guide) showed up, and so we made it a rather informal one-hour "briefing" to get a first idea of where we were. The three of us ended up at the Jolly Judge where we treated Ross to a pint or two since a more traditional monetary tip seemed rather strange.

In the days to come we would spend quite a bit of time in pubs, those warm, toasty, friendly places where the windows are fogged up and you huddle close to the electric fireplace, not wanting to ever leave. I added a dozen or so pubs during my stay, reminding me of my first trip with Howard in southern England, back in the '70s, when we visited 24 pubs in a mere four days. 

IPAs have always been a mainstay of British pub culture, but they were never as hoppy as most modern craft-IPAs are. But the times have changed in the UK as well, and there were some rather tasty ales even though the alcohol content (seldom exceeding 5%) put them square into the realm of Session beers rather than full-bodied brews. The price for a pint varies by alcohol content, it appears, with some of the 3.8% beers fetching around £4.35 (around $5.30) and going for as high as £6.50 ($8.00) for something substantive at 6.2% ABV. Most small snacks will set you back between $5.00 to $8.00, and expect to spend at least $15.00 for a full pub lunch, per person. 

Our favorite food was most likely haggis, a so-called "pudding" made of a mixture of sheep's heart, livers, and lungs plus various spices and other ingredients, traditionally packaged into an intestinal casing; I know, it sounds pretty rough, but it tastes wonderful, with or without a pint of Abbot or Old Speckled Hen. The fish'n chips that we had on two occasions were rather disappointing, especially at the vastly overpriced Bertie's.

It was fun to walk through the many narrow streets and closes, stone stairs connecting the various levels of Old Town; it is easy to imagine what this city looked like 200 or even 400 years ago. When we climbed Calton Hill, from where we had a fabulous view upon the much higher Arthur's Seat as well as all the way to the nearby sea, we passed through old cemeteries and past centuries-old buildings.

Our excursion to the castle, much ballyhooed in the tourist literature, was a bit disappointing. Of course, the truly terrible weather that day was partly to blame, but the 10-second glimpse of the crown jewels (no photos allowed!) and two or three staterooms that looked plundered didn't live up to our expectations. Probably the most interesting part of the castle was its jail and the displays that showed what life was like for the various prisoners that were held here. As seems to be de rigueur nowadays, almost everything has been designated as a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and Edinburgh is no exception: Both the medieval Old Town as well as the Georgian New Town (where we were staying) are on the list, including of course the castle and all the other important buildings.

No One Attacks Me With Impunity (Motto of Scotland)

For our full third day, we had booked an eight-hour bus excursion to St. Andrews. Our first stop was on the south bank of the Firth of Forth, the large body of water that separates Edinburgh and Lothian from the Kingdom of Fife toward the north. We lucked out in that there was a bit of sun and we could clearly see the three imposing (and beautiful) bridges across the wide estuary. All three bridges were built in different centuries, with the newest having been completed in 2017 (Queensferry Crossing), the Forth Road Bridge in 1964, and the oldest in 1890—the railroad-only Forth Bridge, yet another UNESCO World Heritage Site. Seeing all three of them so close to one another is very impressive.

We continued along the northern shoreline of the estuary and stopped in two of the many old Fife fishing villages (Lower Largo, of Robinson Crusoe fame, and Anstruther). Unfortunately, the weather once again deteriorated, and by the time we reached St. Andrews (yep, the place so well-known for its golf courses and its university) it poured heavily enough that Birgit and I spent most of our free time over lunch in a pub. The golf course looked like a large, soggy polo field and left me unimpressed—somehow I had expected a setting like Pebble Beach.

Even before this excursion Birgit had started to feel down and out, aftereffects of a recent bout with COVID. So, while on the bus during our excursion she called her travel agent in Germany and changed her flight back to the next day. It was clear that she was not having much fun and had to struggle to maintain a stiff upper lip. It was quite a bummer but, not knowing how the next few days might develop, it was the right decision to make. I myself have been carrying a nagging cough since my second COVID tussle in late September, and we just don't know enough about this tricky disease.

With two more days on my hands I decided to spend more time in the Old Town area. I have to give it to the Scots: Many of their museums and other attractions are free, and when I went to the National Galleries of Scotland I did not have the feeling that I needed to see everything to justify my entry fee but rather concentrated exclusively on Scottish artists. It was a Saturday, and it seemed as if many locals (and their children) took advantage of the free admission. Similarly, the Museum on the Mound, a bank-and-money museum housed in the Bank of Scotland building, did not charge an entry fee, and the number of visitors showed that people take advantage of these free (and interesting offers).

That same afternoon, after a visit to St. Giles Cathedral (which had been closed when Birgit and I had wanted to visit it on our first evening in town), I hurried back to New Town to meet up with our Airbnb hosts, Martin and Weng. We had been in touch on and off before and during our stay, and the artwork and general attention to detail of our beautiful flat on Cumberland Street had piqued our interest as to who our hosts were. The two men were genuinely sorry not to get to meet Birgit, yet we had an animated conversation going whilst having a cuppa in a neighborhood coffee shop.

Taking up Martin and Weng on their suggestions for my last day in Edinburgh, I left the flat around 10:30 a.m. to explore the Stockbridge Market, a Sunday institution in the neighborhood. Aside from offering fresh fruit and veggies as well as cheese and meats, vendors hawked everything from local honey, mead, and whisky to artisan soaps, designer dog treats, and wooden spoons and cutting boards. A fellow from Sardinia was roasting candied almonds and nuts while a Spanish threesome labored over two huge pans of paella. Best of all: The sun was out, and even though it was quite nippy, locals and tourists alike milled around the small plot of land that has seen markets here for a long, long time.

The Stockbridge crosses the small Water of Leith, the oddly named main river of Edinburgh. It runs for only 22 miles, and I walked along its banks for the final three miles or so, following a mostly paved path that is used by walkers, joggers, cyclist, and families. It was a different face of Edinburgh, not the dark, hulking sandstone buildings in the center but rather smaller private houses with gardens and a more friendly appearance. I detoured through the nearby Royal Botanical Gardens (free admission, once again) where scores of locals made good use of the nice fall weather. Overall, the splashes of color made for a spectacular early afternoon of walking.

Eventually, I ended up in the harbor district where the Water of Leith meets the sea. Since December 11, 1997, the Royal Yacht Britannia has been moored here, having been decommissioned after 44 years of serving the Queen and the Royal Family as her residence on the seas. Now, I'm not someone who is starstruck by the monarchy, and I still have a bit of a difficult time keeping the different princes apart, but I have to say that I was thoroughly thrilled to visit this amazing vessel and in the process learn about her history and that of her owners.

An internet stock photo of the HMY Britannia, all 412 feet of her

The Queen's bedroom/study

Quite frankly, if I could have visited only one "attraction" in Edinburgh, it would have been the Britannia, hands-down. To see the various royal staterooms but also the bunks of the "yotties" (as the common sailors were called) and the officers' quarters was truly educational. The excellent audio-guide explained life on board in a way that one got a really good feel for what it takes to make something like this work. For example, I would have never imagined that there were several divers (who were also part of the The Band of her Majesty's Royal Marines!) who had to thoroughly inspect the immediate area of the Britannia's anchorage whenever the Queen or any members of the Royal Family were on board; the beds of both Elizabeth and Prince Philip (in separate quarters that did have a connecting door) were both just 3 feet wide; and before a journey at sea, one of the yotties was assigned to pick flowers from the Buckingham Palace Royal Gardens and put them in cold storage for the entire trip. (And in case you're wondering, there is only one double bed on the Britannia, in the honeymoon suite that Charles and Diana occupied after they had gotten married back in 1981.) 

I could have taken a Lothian bus back to the Airbnb, but it was a nice evening and I knew there would be a few pubs along the way, so I hoofed it. Several pints, an order of haggis bonbons, and two hours later I was back on Cumberland Street where the eponymous Cumberland Bar beckoned for one last drink. The next morning I took the Airlink100 bus to the airport (a 35-minute ride), and from there it was just three flights back home. My upgrade request for the transatlantic flight didn't clear (for the umpteenth time this year, I was Number One on the list) and I suffered for almost 10 hours in an economy seat with 230 pounds of human flesh crowding into me across the armrest. Well, we win some, and we lose some.

The next four trips—already booked and ticketed—won't be a repeat of that miserable London to Dallas flight, and my travels ended on a high note with my snagging an earlier flight out of DFW that got me home by 10:00 p.m. instead of after midnight. A new city and a new country were in the books, and no, early November may not be the best time to visit Edinburgh. But is there one?

Jürgen