Cozy and Colorful on an Overcast Day: Make Yourself at Home in Dunbar, Scotland

Modest apartments and offices sit atop the vibrant storefronts that line the roadway. A bakery, cafe, and lunch stop is flanked by a charity shop and a small, independent sporting goods store. The pace is unhurried, locals rubbing shoulders with travelers willing to venture out to the coast. We weren’t in Edinburgh anymore.

The day started out overcast, which just made the colors in the small town of Dunbar, Scotland more deeply saturated.

The town is welcoming, with its inns and historic sites. Seated thirty minutes outside of Edinburgh, by means of a fast commuter train, the birthplace of John Muir is something of a fishing village. The nautical theme is apparent. The air smells of salt and is filled with the chattering sound of seagulls engaging in some light gossip, just to pass the time. Old men sit on benches in front of a government museum and gallery, keeping their canine companion close.

The streets are decorated with festive banners, as if a community parade might round the corner beside the church, with a band of bagpipes playing tunes that are familiar, even when they are not at all familiar. Bicycles and public transport are just as common as cars. There is an infrastructure in place to support these means of transportation. “The bus you can take your bike on” brings the two together, seamlessly.

We are on foot and stroll quietly down the main street, the whole day spread out ahead of us. We stop for a bite to eat when we are hungry, sit and rest when we are tired, and linger over the most interesting bits, as we see fit. This is the part of a 10-day European vacation that feels the most relaxed. We are on the back end of the trip and we have more days in Scotland than we’d had in either France or England. The fog and mist will melt away by mid-day, but this is the Scottish climate we’d expected to find.

There’s a cozy, colorful feel to the place and we’re already dreaming of a return trip to spend a week or two wandering around town, lingering over strong coffee and getting lost in a good book.

I’m charmed by the ‘Crunchy Carrot’ fruit and veggie stand that carries just enough of each item, without risk of waste. We sample a variety of treats, noticing a basket of what appears to be crabapples, “Free to good home.” But perhaps they are just an organic variety of snacking apples, with little resemblance to the enormous, perfectly stacked Honeycrisp apples we’re accustomed to back home. I’m delighted to discover that everything is ripe and ready to eat, with little resemblance to fruit back home that is picked long before it has ripened, inviting us to play a guessing game as to when we might actually be able to consume it.

Touches of art, in the form of mosaics and murals, dot the town, even down by the water. The fishing nets, small boats, and lobster traps are colorfully artistic in their own right. I watch the sea gulls chasing one another along the streets that hug the waterfront, begging for a bit of a fisherman’s lunch when he takes a break from untangling and wrapping up large expanses of netting. It’s not an especially cold day, but I see steam rising up from that fisherman’s metal coffee mug.

The homes that dot the coast are lived in, with muddy shoes kicked beside the outer door, clothes handing on the line, and houseplants pressed up against hazy windows. These are no Airbnb rentals; house pets sit in the windows. Everything feels homey and comfortable, broken in and full of love coupled with hard work. That’s my impression anyway, and it’s the reason I’m eager to visit again soon.

Of course, you hope you’ll never need a lifeboat, but it’s reassuring to see the Land Rover parked nearby, just in case.

Did I mention that Dunbar is the birthplace and childhood home of John Muir, father of America’s National Parks? Museums, special exhibits, and statues salute this mountaineer who was “naturalist, author, environmental philosopher, botanist, zoologist, glaciologist, and early advocate for the preservation of wilderness in the United States.” (John Muir) That is a topic we’ll explore the next time around – I’ll just say that he came by his passions naturally, even as a young boy. . . pun intended.