Satan once lived in Dysart, and if that doesn't get your attention then
nothing will. In my old 1920s guidebook it says that the name 'Dysart'
is derived from a cave in which St Serf had a bit of an argy-bargy with
Satan, some time in the fifth century. It was, I am reliably informed,
an argument about the lack of good soup in the village.
In Dysart you are offered a tantalising glimpse of the visual treats to
be found further along the coast in the East Neuk of Fife. For it is a
charming village, boasting whitewashed houses with crow-stepped gables
and red pantiles and a harbour with views aplenty. If you approach the
village by the shore path from Kirkcaldy, then that first peek when you
emerge from the short rocky tunnel will whisk your breath far away and
leave you stunned with tingly contentment.
Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be a great deal available on the
soup and ale fronts, the old tower that you see is only open once or
twice a year, the museum focusing on some Australian explorer is hard
to find, and the acclaimed Harbourmaster's House appears to be just a
cafe with other rooms that were mostly closed when I was there, with
the exception of a display area giving some history. But none of that
matters. For simply being in Dysart is all the reward you need, a visual
reward that costs nothing and which constantly delights with each
every turn of a corner.