Edinburgh between festivals: the stone city in its quieter clothes

There’s a small bar at the bottom of Cockburn Street — pronounced Co-burn, please — where a man called Iain has been working the lunchtime shift for twenty-six years. He remembers your face after the second visit. He pours a half-pint of 80 Shilling without being asked. The fire is on between October and April. The conversation, if you let it happen, is some of the best I’ve had in any city in Europe.

This is Edinburgh out of the festival season, which is to say Edinburgh as the Edinburghers themselves know it. The city has, frankly, a reputation problem during the month of August — when the Fringe and the International Festival together turn it into the world’s largest single performing-arts event. That month is its own thing and worth experiencing once, if your sanity tolerates it. The rest of the year is the city worth knowing.

Why I keep coming back

I first came to Edinburgh in 2002 for a friend’s wedding and stayed an extra week because the November light on the stone was unlike anything I’d seen. I came back in 2007 for a Burns Night, in 2011 for a literary festival, in 2014 for a deep-winter walking holiday on the Pentland Hills outside town, and several times since. The city has stayed structurally the same and improved at its food.

Where to base yourself

The New Town (north of Princes Street). Don’t be misled — it’s only new compared with the medieval Old Town; the New Town was laid out in the 1760s. Georgian terraces, broad streets, a manageable walk to everything. Stay around Stockbridge or Northumberland Street.

Stockbridge itself if you want a village-within-the-city feel. The Water of Leith runs past, the Sunday market is excellent, and you’re a 12-minute walk to Princes Street.

Avoid the Royal Mile as a base unless your stay is two nights. It is the tourist axis of the Old Town and noisy until well past midnight in the summer.

What to actually do

Climb Arthur’s Seat at dawn. The extinct volcano in the middle of the city; the climb is forty minutes, moderate, and the summit gives you a view of the entire city, the Firth of Forth, and on a clear day Fife. In summer, do it for sunrise (4:30 a.m. — short night); in winter, midmorning is fine.

Spend a long afternoon in the National Museum of Scotland. Free entry, and one of the great national museums of Europe — Scottish history from prehistoric stone heads to the Lewis Chessmen, with a wing of decorative arts and a roof terrace with a view. The Pictish carvings are the unexpected highlight.

Walk the Water of Leith. A small river that winds from the Pentland Hills through the western edge of the city to the port of Leith. The path runs the whole way, mostly hidden in greenery; eight kilometres, three hours, takes you past the Dean Gallery and the Modern Two and ends at the harbour in Leith, where you can have a pint at the King’s Wark and a fish-and-chips supper.

Take the bus to South Queensferry. A small town on the Firth of Forth, half an hour out, under the three great bridges (the 1890 Forth Bridge, still the most beautiful cantilevered railway bridge in the world). The old pub on the high street, the Hawes Inn, where Robert Louis Stevenson set the kidnapping scene in Kidnapped. Walk back along the seafront.

Find a working ceilidh. Not the staged tourist one. The Sandy Bell’s pub on Forrest Road has live traditional folk most nights, free. The dance ceilidhs at the St Bride’s Centre or Pleasance Cabaret Bar are advertised at the door; the locals will pull you onto the floor whether you can dance or not.

Where to eat

Edinburgh’s food has improved dramatically over twenty years.

The Kitchin (Leith) — Tom Kitchin’s flagship, Scottish-French, one Michelin star, an institution. Reserve weeks out.

Timberyard — Scandi-inflected, set-menu, an old timber warehouse in a courtyard.

Ondine (Old Town) — Roy Brett’s seafood; the seafood is from that morning’s boat at Newhaven.

The Scran & Scallie (Stockbridge) — A gastropub that takes its haggis seriously. Reliable.

The Cafe Royal Bar — Victorian tiled interior, oysters at the bar, a pint of cask ale. Don’t miss.

Mary’s Milk Bar (Grassmarket) — Gelato made in front of you. Worth the queue.

When to come

February and March for the city to itself. Cold, occasionally bright, fires in the bars.

Late April through May for the longer light and the city in bloom.

August for the festival. Plan accommodation eight months out and budget on triple the off-season prices.

Avoid the third week of August unless you specifically want the chaos.

Practical notes

• Visa: UK visa rules (post-Brexit). Most Western passports get six months visa-free.
• Money: Pound sterling. Card universally; Scottish-issued banknotes (£20 in particular) sometimes confuse English shopkeepers — they are legal tender, but you may have an awkward exchange.
• Transport: Walkable city. Buses are good (Lothian Buses; contactless or app). Trams run from the airport down Princes Street. Trains to Glasgow leave every 15 minutes and take 50.
• Weather: Layers. The city sits on a coastal volcanic plug and the weather changes by the hour. A waterproof shell is non-negotiable.
• Whisky: A small dram at any of the proper bars (the Bow Bar, the Devil’s Advocate, the Last Word Saloon) will cost £4–10 depending on the malt. Don’t add water until the bartender suggests it.

A final thought

Edinburgh is a city built largely of one material — the dark sandstone of Craigleith Quarry, which gave the New Town its grey-cream colour and the Old Town its blackened, weathered face. Most cities are a collage of stones and bricks and concretes. Edinburgh is, for the most part, one stone.

The consequence is that the city has a coherent visual key. In winter, with low cloud and the stone wet, the city is one of the most beautiful in Europe. In summer, with the festival crowds, less so. But the city is the same city in either season. The festivals don’t change Edinburgh; they just turn the volume up on it.

Go in February. Walk Arthur’s Seat. Sit by Iain’s fire. Read Stevenson. Stay a week.