Duddingston, the Sheeps Heid, and whisky … Just keep walking!

Sunday, March 23, 2025

Sunday, a day of rest. Roast for lunch in a great pub followed by a restful afternoon… yeah, nah.

A grey day, but dry. Not too cold, but cold enough. We walked and walked and then walked some more. Mostly uphill, but with one stupidly steep downhill from Duddingston Loch down into the village. One source I read said there were 209 steps (it seemed like double that) that would ruin your day. Ain’t that the truth. They were slippery and steep, with no handrails, and as I am the complete scared-of-falling-and-wrecking-an-ankle princess that I am, I took them very slowly.

But I digress. The pub we chose for lunch was in Duddingston, on the other side of a very steep hill. Choosing a route through Holyrood Park, we walked up a long way, and then the drop into the village was via the above-mentioned stairs.  We got to the bottom and I immediately declared we’d be finding another way back.

At some time in the probably not so distant past Duddingston (nestled under Arthur’s Seat) was a separate village from Edinburgh, and it still has that feel to it. There are, however, two distinct parts to Duddingston – the heritage side (where we were headed for lunch) and the rest (which is clearly not heritage).

Parts of the village date back to the eleventh century, so it’s full of fun facts, and was important in the eighteenth century as a centre for weaving, with a coarse linen “Duddingston Hardings” being made here.

Bonnie Prince Charlie held his council of war before the Battle of Prestopans in 1745 in a house here in Duddingston. The Jacobites came out on top in that one. In the same year, James Hamilton, 8^th Earl of Abercorn bought the Duddingston Estate from the Duke of Argyll as part of his attempts to reclaim old family land. This fun fact is only a fun fact to me as I research the Hamilton side of our family tree.

There’s also a really cool story about one of Robbie Burns’ friends, a Doctor James Tyler, who lived here. His CV tells a fascinating story – scholar, botanist, encyclopaedist, bigamist and balloonist.

Anyways, The Sheeps Heid Inn, our destination for lunch, dates back to 1360 and is (apparently) Scotland’s oldest pub. In case you’re interested, the name it now has comes from a snuff box that was either in the shape of, or embellished with (after all this time, you’d expect the story to be a tad convoluted) a ram’s head that was presented to the landlord by James VI in 1580.

After the effort we’d made to walk there, lunch was good. I had the roast chicken and although the breast meat was a tad dry (as it so often is) it was nothing a decent glug of gravy couldn’t fix. Grant chose the roast beef and helped me out with my chook too. As has been the case each Sunday on this trip, the veg was the star of the show. We shared crumble and custard to finish.

We walked back via the road and cut through the park at the end. While still up and down, it was less steeply up and down than the route over had been. Perhaps I should have done more research before we set off.

We were back in our cottage for an hour – long enough for Grant to have a nap – before it was time to leave on another two-mile walk, this time to the other end of Princes Street for the Johnnie Walker Experience.

A Christmas present from Sarah, this was both a brilliant sensory journey and a masterclass in brand management. The story of the company’s beginnings from a village supermarket brought tears to my eyes.

Included in the experience are three drinks. When you first enter, you’re directed to a digital questionnaire that will determine you’re preferred flavour profile. Mine was spicy, Grant’s was fruity. It’s this that determines your first drink.

The final two drinks are of our own choosing – a whisky-based cocktail and a dram. We each chose the old-fashioned, while Grant followed that with a dram of the 18-year-old, and I chose a dram of the limited-edition Harris Tweed (a little spicy, a little earthy). Fortunately for me, Grant isn’t a whisky fan, so I also got his dram. #winning

In any case it was a fantastic experience and well worth doing.

After it was finished, we went to Hope, a Japanese restaurant around the corner. We shared some gyoza, I had the chicken curry and rice, and Grant had a ramen. It was exactly what we’d been feeling like.

Then we walked two miles home.

The stats…

Temperature: 6-8

Miles travelled: 0* But we walked for miles…and miles! Just under 26,000 steps and (according to my Fitbit) 65 floors.

*Even though we work in kms in Australia, all signage in the UK is in miles, so that’s what I’m going with.

These posts are taken directly from my travel journal … you can find the series here.