We have stayed in some unusual places over the years. During our time in Ireland and the British Isles, the circular staircase (called a "turnpike" here) has been a recurring theme in our lodgings. When we booked "The Royal Mile Flat" on Air B&B, we knew access would be a challenge. If we wanted the view and the location, there would be a steep price to pay. The listing described a 68-step climb to the flat. We were forewarned!
The flat was on an upper floor (incredibly, not quite the top!) of a building last renovated in the 1880s. All of the plumbing and electricity were run on the outside. Access to the inside was through "Geddes' Entry", a tiny wrought iron gate sandwiched between two restaurants on the Royal Mile.
A key box held our set of keys. A key code panel released the gate, granting us access to a dank alley.
Fortunately, there was only a single door in the alley, and after a few tries, we found the key that opened it. The door opened immediately onto a winding, narrow circular stone staircase. There were no landings, just a slightly larger step in front of the doors that opened to the flats. At step 30 was a door with the number "1". We were number 5. The steps were all pie-shaped, with the narrow pointy edge in the center, and the wider edge at the wall. "People must have had tiny feet in the 1800s" I muttered, dragging my suitcase up, while the weight of my ridiculously-heavy backpack and two messenger bags dragged me backward. I could hear Ron behind me, his suitcase scraping against the stone. "I hope there is a defibrillator at step 40" came the reply. We stopped twice to catch our breath, bags and bodies balanced precariously. Finally, door #5. I had to climb two more steps to allow Ron to open the door. (A video tour of the flat is at the end of this blog)
The door swung open to brilliant sunlight bouncing off dark wooden beams, window sashes, and floors. A long hallway led to the living room, where we could see an entire wall of tall windows. But in the hallway, something was wrong. We dropped our bags and took a few steps. Ron reached out to steady himself. "Are we just dizzy from the climb, or is the hallway listing 20 degrees to the right?" And so, like two drunken sailors, we lumbered into our magnificent, drafty, eclectic, perfect flat.
Looking left from our window, beyond the church and out of sight is the Palace. Looking right from our window, beyond (yet another) church and out of sight is the Castle.
The Old Town is crisscrossed with secretive alleyways called "Closes". Many are only as wide as a barrel, a leftover from long ago times when food, ale, penny nails, fabric, and anything of value, was transported in barrels from sailing vessels and wagons in and out of castle towns such as Edinburgh. We were in Edinburgh for a week, and delighted in learning our way through the labyrinth, cutting literally miles off our daily commute for food, fun, and adventure!
The sound of bagpipes, street performers, and tourists filled the air from dawn until long after dusk. The old windows offered little against the cold or the sounds, but fortunately, all of the windows were hung with heavy wooden shutters. Between the shutters, and the occasional downpours, we left Edinburgh quite rested, and ready for our next adventure in Wales.
"Linda, are you finished with the blog yet?" "Almost" "Did you include my picture? I would like it to be the lead photo." "Not yet, Ron. I haven't been able to work it in." "You promised...." He is right, of course. A promise is a promise.
A short video of the interior of our flat, filmed by Ron, and edited to include Ron's excellent choice of music.