Arthurs Seat Sunset

I stood on the top of Arthurs Seat and watched the sunset. 

There are moments in travel that feel almost too simple to write down. No itinerary. No attraction list. Just the quiet decision to head uphill and see what the day looks like from a higher point.

Arthurs Seat has that rare quality where the effort is part of the experience. The walk up creates a little distance from everything below. With every step, the noise thins out and the view starts to take over. By the time I reached the top, it felt like I had earned the stillness.

Then the light began to change. The sun softened first, turning warmer without announcing it. Shadows stretched, edges blurred, and the landscape gradually shifted from detailed and busy to calm and graphic. It reminded me of how a good edit works. You do not add more. You let the right things fall away until what remains feels inevitable.

Watching a sunset from a high point also does something interesting to your sense of time. You become aware of how quickly a scene can transform without actually moving. In filmmaking we try to recreate that feeling with time lapses, transitions, color grade, and sound design. But the real version is quieter. It happens at its own pace, and you cannot speed it up without losing what makes it meaningful.

I found myself thinking about how often we treat travel like content capture. Where is the best photo spot. What is the most shareable angle. What story can I package neatly when I get home. At the top of Arthurs Seat, that mindset felt out of place. The sunset did not need interpretation. It just needed attention.

As the sky deepened, the last light lingered along the horizon, and the whole view took on that reflective mood sunsets tend to bring out. Not dramatic, not performative. Just a gentle reminder that the best scenes are not always the ones you plan. Sometimes they are the ones you simply show up for.