Hiking the Seven Hills of Edinburgh: Urban Trails with Spectacular Views

The Seven Hills of Edinburgh aren't officially designated like, say, the Seven Summits of mountaineering fame, but locals generally agree on: Castle Rock, Calton Hill, Arthur's Seat, Craiglockhart Hill, Braid Hills, Blackford Hill, and Corstorphine Hill. Collectively, they offer a 14-mile route with roughly 2,200 feet of elevation gain—not exactly Everest, but enough to ensure you'll sleep soundly afterward.

When James suggested we tackle all seven in a weekend, I initially laughed it off as ambitious overreaching (typical of a Manchester United supporter). However, after mapping it out, I realized it was entirely doable for anyone with reasonable fitness and a healthy appetite for urban exploration.

I'd recommend splitting the adventure across two days: the eastern hills (Castle Rock, Calton Hill, and Arthur's Seat) on day one, and the remaining four on day two. This approach lets you spend more time at each summit rather than rushing through like it's the last minutes of a nil-nil derby.

Before setting off, I loaded the routes onto my hiking GPS. While Edinburgh's hills are hardly remote wilderness, having precise navigation helped us find the optimal paths between hills and discover lesser-known viewpoints. If you're not inclined to invest in dedicated equipment, the ViewRanger app (now called Outdooractive) works brilliantly for urban trails.

We kicked off our expedition from the Royal Mile, that sloping thoroughfare that perfectly exemplifies how Edinburgh's urban planning has historically embraced rather than fought against its topography. First up was Castle Rock, home to the imposing Edinburgh Castle. At 130 meters above sea level, it's not the tallest of the seven, but its prominence in the city skyline makes it feel like the centerpiece of Edinburgh's geological drama.

The approach to the castle is a lesson in defensive urban design—a gradually steepening slope that would have made medieval invaders question their career choices. Today, it merely leaves tourists slightly winded. The esplanade offers stunning views westward, though the full panoramic experience requires a castle entry fee. Budget travelers take note: you can enjoy 80% of the views for free from the public areas.

A brisk 15-minute walk east brought us to Calton Hill, perhaps the most accessible of Edinburgh's summits at just 103 meters. What it lacks in altitude, it makes up for with its collection of curious monuments—an unfinished Parthenon replica (the National Monument), Nelson's Monument, and the City Observatory. The hill has been Edinburgh's prime sunset-watching spot since the Georgian era, and for good reason. The golden hour light transforming the Dugald Stewart Monument into a silhouette against the glowing sky is worth every step.

Arthur's Seat, the highest of Edinburgh's seven at 251 meters, loomed ahead as our final challenge of day one. This ancient volcano is essentially a miniature Highland landscape dropped into the city center—complete with craggy peaks, hidden glens, and windswept slopes. We approached from the east via Dunsapie Loch, a less crowded route that gradually reveals the city panorama. At the summit, I pulled out my compact binoculars to spot landmarks across the Firth of Forth all the way to Fife. These have been my faithful companions on urban hikes worldwide—lightweight enough for city exploration but powerful enough to bring distant details into focus.

Day two began with a hearty vegan breakfast at a local café—fuel for the remaining hills that form Edinburgh's southern boundary. We started with Blackford Hill, home to the Royal Observatory and, in my professional opinion, offering the most instructive view of Edinburgh's urban development. From its 164-meter summit, you can clearly see how the city's Georgian New Town grid system gives way to the organic medieval layout of the Old Town.

As an urban planner, I find Blackford Hill fascinating because it provides a perfect case study in green space preservation. The hill and surrounding Hermitage of Braid form a nature reserve right in the city, demonstrating how urban growth can accommodate ecological corridors. The morning light filtering through the wooded slopes created a tranquil atmosphere that belied our proximity to Scotland's capital.

After descending Blackford's northern slope, we traversed residential streets to reach Braid Hills, the most extensive of Edinburgh's seven. At 213 meters, the Braids offer a more rural hiking experience despite being just four miles from the city center. The hills are home to two golf courses (this is Scotland, after all), but hikers are well accommodated with clear paths.

The Braids' summit plateau provides the best southern panorama of Edinburgh, with Arthur's Seat and Castle Rock perfectly framed against the Forth estuary beyond. It's also where I captured my favorite time-lapse of the trip, as clouds cast moving shadows across the cityscape. My travel tripod proved invaluable here—compact enough to carry all day but sturdy enough to keep my camera stable in the ever-present Edinburgh breeze.

What struck me most about these southern hills was how they've shaped Edinburgh's development boundary. Unlike many cities where urban sprawl continues unchecked, Edinburgh's hills have created natural limits that have forced more thoughtful development. It's urban containment without the need for regulatory greenbelts—nature's own planning policy.

By mid-afternoon, we'd reached Craiglockhart—actually a twin-peaked hill comprising Easter and Wester Craiglockhart. At a modest 158 meters, these connected summits aren't the most imposing, but they're steeped in literary history as the site of Craiglockhart War Hospital, where poets Siegfried Sassoon and Wilfred Owen met during WWI. The hospital buildings now form part of Edinburgh Napier University.

The twin hills offer excellent views back toward the city center and Arthur's Seat. What fascinated me was how these hills have been incorporated into the urban fabric—surrounded by residential development yet maintaining their character as natural spaces. The eastern slopes feature well-maintained woodland trails, while the western side incorporates sports facilities. It's adaptive reuse of topography that many cities could learn from.

Our final summit, Corstorphine Hill, required a longer trek westward. At 162 meters, this elongated ridge is less a peak and more a forested plateau stretching for nearly two miles. The hill forms the backbone of Edinburgh's western suburbs and houses the excellent Edinburgh Zoo on its eastern slope (though we didn't spot any escaped penguins during our hike).

What makes Corstorphine unique among Edinburgh's seven is its extensive woodland cover—a genuine forest in the city. The summit is marked by Clermiston Tower (also called Corstorphine Hill Tower), a Victorian monument to Sir Walter Scott that provides the hill's highest accessible viewpoint. From here, we could see back across all the hills we'd conquered, with the Pentland Hills rising beyond the city's southern boundary.

The descent from Corstorphine through its nature reserve brought us past exposed rock formations that reveal the hill's volcanic origins—the same geological drama that created all of Edinburgh's distinctive topography. By the time we reached the bus stop for our return to central Edinburgh, our fitness trackers showed we'd covered over 25 kilometers across the two days.

As the sun began to set on our seven hills adventure, I pulled out my trusty insulated water bottle for the last sips of water. Having cold water even after a full day of hiking in summer heat is one of those small luxuries that makes all the difference—especially when you're celebrating the completion of an urban hiking challenge.

One doesn't conquer seven hills on an empty stomach, and fortunately, Edinburgh's vegan scene is surprisingly robust for a city once synonymous with haggis. Our seven hills challenge became as much a culinary tour as a hiking expedition.

For pre-hike breakfast, we discovered Holy Cow near Calton Hill—a compact café serving stellar vegan pancakes that provided the slow-burning energy needed for our first day's climbs. Their coffee rivaled anything I've found in Melbourne's hipster havens, which is saying something.

Packed lunches are essential for hill-hopping efficiency. The best strategy is to visit one of the small Scotmid Co-op stores scattered throughout residential Edinburgh. Their plant-based sandwich selection is decent, and you can assemble a respectable picnic without breaking the bank. We enjoyed our summit lunch on Arthur's Seat watching paragliders drift over Holyrood Park—not a bad dining view for a supermarket meal.

After completing day one, we treated ourselves to dinner at Harmonium in Leith. While not in the city center, this vegan gastropub was worth the bus ride for their 'fish' and chips made with banana blossom—a brilliant plant-based take on the British classic. The Scottish ale selection provided necessary carb replenishment for day two.

For our final evening celebration, Seeds for the Soul in Bruntsfield offered the perfect recovery meal. Their Buddha bowls packed with local vegetables and protein-rich quinoa were exactly what our muscles needed after two days of continuous hiking. The restaurant's location near the Meadows also meant we could enjoy a gentle stroll back to our accommodation—a necessary cool-down for tired legs.

Staying hydrated on the hills is crucial, especially if you're blessed with rare Scottish sunshine as we were. My collapsible water bottle proved invaluable—it rolls up when empty to save space but holds enough water for several hours of hiking. Most of Edinburgh's hills have no water sources, so carrying sufficient supply is essential.