Tuesday 24 September 2013

Orkney! Day 4: South Ronaldsay to Sanday!

Day Four began wet, grey and unremitting, but I’m think I’m safe in saying that it was the first good night’s sleep we’d all had so far, sorry Sam! We had a quick breakfast and headed back along the only road to Kirkwall to catch the ferry to Shapinsay. As we were leaving the car this time to save costs, we needed to find somewhere to park it reasonably cheaply and within walking distance to the ferry. This turned out to be straightforward and we found Kirkwall to have a variety of short (cheap) and long (free) term parking (not sure on logic there) close to where we were headed. 
Shapinsay!
On the way to the causeway to Helliar Holm
The sailing was fairly run of the mill, again the waters were calm despite the slightly stormier weather, but as we approached Shapinsay, Helliar Holm came in to view with an alluring causeway seeming to stretch from one island to the other. Being the baggers that we were, we made a bee line for the beach closest to Helliar Holm, full of cider and optimism, navigated slippery rocks and stranded jellyfish before coming to the realisation that both the tide was coming in and the rock causeway had a rather large break halfway along. 

 No we weren’t up for swimming, though the idea was floated (for old time’s sake), so we continued east along the road to see if we could find any of the arbitrary landmarks I had selected for the itinerary to lure new recruits Terri and Rob:
“Landmarks include a standing stone, an Iron Age broch, a souterrain and a salt-water shower.


In 1905, The Orcadian newspaper reported that a strange creature had been seen off the coast of Shapinsay. It was reportedly the size of a horse, with a spotted body covered in scales. Opinion on the creature's origin was divided, with some islanders believing it to be a sea serpent, while others opined that it was merely a large seal.”


The harbour at Shapinsay
 So it was with great disappointment that after ten minutes, the rain and the wind picked up enough to harry us back into town to seek shelter and warmth, which was found in spades at the Heritage Centre. We ordered some ballast (sausage, egg and beans) and the staff kindly offered to hang our coats to dry near the boiler, explaining that we could go upstairs to look around the exhibition and she would call us when the food was ready.
 
Balfour Village, Shapinsay, in the rain
The most memorable part of the museum for me were the reports written by local children of events that had happened to their grandparents; fishermen being stuck on Auskerry, memories of the German warships, that sort of thing. Also, there was a fantastic model of Burroughston Broch, the first of many great models we encountered around Orkney, mostly made by school children I believe. Those kids have some serious talent on their hand. Or time. We ate, Rob bought some delicious spicy ginger treats, and we headed back to get an earlier-than-planned ferry as the weather had made it difficult to do much except a quick stop at the salt-water shower.
 
Burroughston Broch model

On the boat
A slightly more interesting sail back as we were sharing the ferry with the very school children whose work we had been perusing in the Heritage Centre and they told us they had seen some orcas swim by their school earlier in the year and elucidated on the subtle complexities of Top Trumps. A nice life for some I suppose.

Our next destination was Sanday, but later in the day, so we spent the intervening time exploring Kirkwall, stopping in at the St Magnus Cathedral. I scoured the place for “mushroom art” amongst the intricately decorated stained glass in the hopes of finding some validation for my flatmate Jake’s theory, but alas none was found.

Hanging out in town

St Magnus Cathedral, Kirkwall
It turned out fortunate that we had caught the earlier ferry back from Shapinsay, as industrial action was taking place within the ferry operators and were therefore running an amended timetable. This meant an earlier ferry to Sanday and without calling in at Eday on the way. Luckily we had no real plans for Eday aside from jumping on and off the ferry a la Egilsay and Wyre, so only marginally dismayed, we boarded our last inter-island ferry (flying from here on out!) for Sanday, leaving the car and the mainland proper for the Northern Isles. 

We were informed by a fellow passenger that it would be wise to book seats on the Sanday bus to take us to the Ayres Rock campsite, to avoid a nine (Orkney) mile hike with all our gear. Seats reserved over the phone with ease, the bus met us directly after disembarking from the ferry and dropped us at the campsite for less than £2 each. Ayres Rock’s Paul greeted us and showed us around, offered to hire us bikes for just £5 between us, and directed us to the pubs in Kettletoft.  

Liam on his bike
 We set off in an excitable mood in the wrong direction, got corrected by a passing car, and continued cycling in leisurely fashion. The island seemed remote in every direction, low hills and sea around us, no obvious village/town and in the distance the neighbouring islands of Stronsay and Westray either side. It was a deliciously peaceful ride with the bikes lending the evening a Famous Five air. We enjoyed our drinks and pool at both pubs, and blindly navigated our way home in the dark, the only lights being the occasionally rotation of a nearby lighthouse beacon. Paul’s Camping Pods were up to comfy-cosy code, and another great night’s sleep finished another great day’s adventuring! 


Downhill to Kettletoft
Somewhere on Sanday

Tuesday 17 September 2013

Orkney! Day 3: Hoy to South Ronaldsay!

 
The Hostel
Day three started beautifully, waking in the bright sunshine in the deserted but serene Rackwick Valley. After a quick breakfast we ignored the path leading up into the hills for the Old Man (we simply didn't have a whole day to cover the seven miles there and back), and drove the short distance from the hostel down to the seafront and strolled along past farmhouse and bothy to the beach. The sound of the Atlantic surf was constant, washing the giant pebbles that made up the foreshore, with a wide, but narrowing with the tide, expanse of flat golden sand beyond. A perfect venue, it could be said, for the 2013 All Britain Rock Boules Championships. You may have read about the 2012 championships which took place on Muckle Roe in Shetland, and so Rackwick beach in Hoy proved a worthy setting for the next installment. 
 
The mouth of Rackwick valley
Early morning sunshine
Over the rickety bridge to the beach
 After briefing Terri and Rob on the very brief rules, marking out a target, and selecting our stones from the ample store to hand, Wales (me) quickly established a lead, Ireland (Liam) almost failed to register entirely, and the two newcomers England (Terri) and Scotland (Rob) fought it out in the middle. All looked set for a big Welsh victory until it came down to the final five stones, with Scotland needing three direct hits on the central rock target to pip them at the post. Two direct hits later it was all very tense for the final stone. It missed, Wales won, and the rest was history (until next year....Hirta Rock Boules? (is that a clue about our next adventure!?)) 

Surveying the pitch

Final positions
 Following this bit of harmless frivolity we returned to the car and drifted back along the only road to civilisation, pausing for a stop to have a look at the "dwarfie stane", one of the more interesting chambered cairns in the isles. Rather than lug a load of smaller rocks to this unassuming spot on the side of the valley, the ancient men 5000 years ago found a great big one 8.5 metres long already there and carved out the inside, big enough to crawl inside. Stories about as to the use of the rock, and whilst archaeologists seem to think that it was used as a tomb, I prefer the idea that it was used as a prison by warring giants looking to gain control of the island of Hoy from each other. Interesting carvings inside and a good slab for a photo on top!

On the lookout for giants! Or giant dwarfies! (normal sized?)
 Our next stop was Lyness, and we had a few hours until the time for the next ferry, which was lucky because it gave us time to stop and take a proper look around the main site for some of Orkney's most modern and least neolithic history. The Scapa Flow Visitor Centre & Museum comes highly recommended, with a veritable feast of massive military machinery outside, and a hangar's worth of displays and documents detailing the vital rule that the wide natural harbour of Scapa Flow played as the host of the 'home fleet' in the first and second world wars.

 
Rob defending the Flow
Aside from the tales of the seamen posted in such a 'bloody' place so far from home, and the intricate cat-and-mouse strategies employed by the navies who seem to have constantly fought for the upper hand at such close quarters, it was actually most interesting to read about the impact on the local people, not least the money to be made and lost in the salvage efforts, trying to raise the tons and tons of metal sunk in the shallow waters by the German high command. Also worthy of a mention here the giant oil-drum behind the museum, itself another hall of machinery and vehicles, but best of all one of the most incredible echo-chambers you are ever likely to see (or hear). We're sure that the other visitors must have puzzled over the ape-like howls we were making for the sheer awesomeness of the echoes. Again also worthy of mention the excellent cafe, perfect for a lunch on the go (try the tiffin!)

Terri enjoying the dressing up box in the museum
Should have read "Skippers scuttled skiff scuppered at Scapa", can't get the headline writers these days! (I know it wasn't skiff's that got scuppered or scuttled at Scapa, but it's more fun to say if it was. Also how to fit SCUBA in to that sentence?)
 next up, it was time for the short ferry-hop over to Flotta, Orkney's oil island, with a terminal with a constant burning flame and a large peninsula at the northern end of the island solely given over to the works. We were only on Flotta for a couple of hours, and not really knowing where to go or what there was to see, we headed to the end of the road at the south end of the island. It was a bit of a post-industrial wasteland, and we wandered around a disused quarry with abandoned machinery overlooking the Pentland Firth with views back to the mainland. After a while we came upon the abandoned Stanger Battery. There was a certain peace amongst the ruins where so many men prepared for violent battle, but before long it was time to head back to the ferry, stopping by the quay to watch our first close-up Orkney seal.

Flottaliscious
Is this called a travelator? Something for moving rocks from one place to another anyway.
Either a view through Stanger Battery ruins or the front cover of a 1980's folk album.
 After we got back to the mainland at Houton we drove up the coast for our first view of the pretty town of Kirkwall, capital of the isles, revisited in more detail at least once later on, for now we merely stopped at the Tesco to pick up evening supplies before continuing our journey south, over the great feats of engineering works known as the Churchill Barriers. Constructed during the second world war to seal off the gaps between the chain of islands to the eastern side of Scapa Flow, replacing a series of 'blockships' sunk to stop enemy boats getting through, they form a continuous road from the village of St Mary's on the mainland, via Lamb Holm, Glimps Holm and Burra before reaching their southern end on the island of South Ronaldsay, where we were to spend the night. 

Lamb Holm thumbs up time!
On Lamb Holm we visited the wonder that is the Italian Chapel, constructed by homesick POW's in the war. despite being apparently made from just the construction materials that were lying around at the time, inside it is as ornate and colourful as many more traditional churches, and all the more so for its location on the side of a desolate tiny island in the middle of nowhere. From here we went on to Glimps Holm which was unremarkable, and then to Burra where we took a detour from the main road down a side track and eventually just across a field, in search of a tidal island which looked eminently baggable from the map, called Hunda. Eventually reaching a farm we didn't want to trespass, so we knocked on the door and a lovely lady told us the route through the yard and across a causeway, it was just a quick dash and back as we needed to be at the hostel by eight to get the key. It was sad on the way back to see one of her sheep in a most un-natural and stiff position, when we told her she was sure it was just sleeping, but we think it must have been worse (if you're reading, we hope your sheep was OK, also thanks for the eggs!)

The Italian Chapel

A good cow. Not sure where we saw this, maybe Flotta, but I like it
 From here it wasn't far to South Ronaldsay and St Margaret's Hope, where we spent a peaceful night in the backpackers hostel (much recommended) with chicken fajitas and some comfy sofas. That was the southern isles done, tomorrow would begin our assault on the north!


Wednesday 11 September 2013

Orkney! Day 2: Rousay to Hoy!

We awoke on Day Two to blue skies, refreshed from the journey north (mentally if not physically), and although I knew Sam and I would be keen to get back outside to explore Rousay some more, I wasn't sure how the new recruits were holding up. After all, yesterday's "leisurely stroll" to the broch and cairn had left our legs and feet in shambles and was now affectionately dubbed “The Hell March.” Resilience shone through, however, and the consensus somehow came to be that we would scale the tallest peak on all of Rousay, Blotchnie Fiold, a staggering 249ft, via a nature walk around the Trumland House estate.

The well appointed kitchen at the hostel on Rousay

The view from the front door
 Spirits remained high for at least half an hour before doubt and fatigue set in, once again we had set off without drinks and snacks, our limbs sore and time scant. Rob remained optimistic, the champ, but the rest of us voted bail. So, we continued along the colourful nature trail around Trumland House, evading the occasional bee, grabbed our bags from the hostel and headed back to the Pier Bar to requisition appropriate bagging victuals – pies and Irn Bru. 

The path through the nature reserve

Looking out over Wyre with Shapinsay beyond

Trumland House
 On our way, incidentally, we ran into the postman who we had met on the ferry previously, and he assured us we would still be able to hop on and off the ferry at Egilsay and at Wyre to take a photo. This was some relief to me, as a ferry timetabling quirk had interfered with my perfect itinerary, which had originally included an hour or two on each island. The gang seemed content with the new arrangement, Irn Bru was drunk, pies were ordered, balls were sunk, while we waited for the ferry. Quick stops at Egilsay (3), then Wyre (4), photos, back to Rousay briefly then returned to Tingwall.

Leaving Rousay

Wyre (Brief Stop)

Egilsay (Brief Stop!)

Pies on the quay
 Whilst on the mainland, we had a go at being tourists and stopped by the Maes Howe Chambered Cairn. The friendly assistant behind the desk was incredibly helpful, redirecting us with a hand drawn map to the nearby Cuween Chambered Cairn, which was both free and accessible at all times, and therefore suited our schedule better. Off we went to hunt down another spooky cairn. It was becoming a thing! Cuween’s shape was different to those we had seen on Rousay, access was through a low, narrow tunnel opening into a chamber, with smaller chambers huddled around the sides, and all shrouded in darkness save for the dim glow of an island-issued torch – until the gang whipped their phones out. Didn’t make it any less creepy though.
Liam in the burial chamber
 That night’s accommodation was booked at the Rackwick Hostel on Hoy (5), so after checking out around Cuween it was time to drive on down to Houton and catch the evening ferry to Lyness, Hoy. This crossing was so uneventful Terri didn’t realise we had left until we were well over half way, testament either to the Flow’s calmness or Candy Crush’s enchanting nature. Leaving the ferry port, we decided to head towards South Walls (6?), and so began The Great Question. Is South Walls a distinct island that we could count?
A-Hoy!
 Leaving that hanging, we crossed the causeway, hit the pub, was told South Walls wasn't a separate island, then went for a walk along the coast. We were greeted with amazing views of the Scottish mainland, the Southern Isles, Stroma and Swona, and even lucky enough to spot some finned marine creatures and a seal or two.
First game of Orkney pool

Here we saw seals and possibly sharks (not in the picture though)

Taken on South Walls (for evidence in case it turned out it was an island)
 More breath-taking scenery awaited us on our journey to the hostel as the road took us through Rackwick Valley, with dramatic hills rising steeply on either side, past the Dwarfie Stane, and finally giving way to the wide bay in which Rackwick itself is situated. Despite a brief misunderstanding about our booking, we still had time to have Bangers and Mash for tea. Pro Baggin’! 

(By Liam)











Monday 2 September 2013

Orkney! Day 1: Mainland and Rousay!

So here we are, back again for our third annual Scottish island bagging tour. This year, a week in Orkney was the plan, with an itinerary put together skillfully by Liam, a long long drive to Scrabster to start us off, boats, planes and hostels all worked out, and a haul of more than twenty islands the intention. First of all, an introduction to the 2013 Orkney crew. You've met me and Liam before (if you haven't, there's a lot of reading for you to do!), with us this year were my charming (not to mention very patient and all round good sport) girlfriend Terri (previous island count - about five; island bagging skills - photo taking, hiking, and being a good tide-coming-in spotter), and Rob, who has known Liam since forever, and who I first met when they both accidentally went to the wrong class at school about sixteen years ago (previous island count - not many; island bagging skills - snacks). You can see them in the picture below practicing their very best thumbs up poses. 

Terri, Rob and Liam on the ferry to Stromness
Anyway, so it was, after meeting in Chesterfield late on Friday night, and a twelve hour drive through the night we got to Scrabster just in time for the ferry, an hour and a half to Stromness, across the Pentland Firth and past the Old Man of Hoy - one of the most iconic landmarks of Orkney, and although when we passed it was pretty misty and damp, half the people on the boat were out taking photos - mine wasn't the best. Soon after, we were cruising into Hoy Sound and docked on the mainland (1) at Stromness. 


The Old Man of Hoy. Better pictures are available!
 We were immediately drawing comparisons to last years trip to Shetland, Orkney is an archipelago of similar size and population, but it's situation so much closer to the Scottish mainland initially gave it a feel less remote and perhaps more accessible. The mainland itself contains the two main towns of Kirkwall and Stromness, as well as a whole host of world class neolithic sites, listed as a UNESCO heritage site because of their archaeological significance. More on them later, however. The rest of the sixty or so main islands of the group are split into the South Isles and the more remote and more sparsely populated North Isles, with both ferries and planes providing connections between them all. 

We didn't get a chance to have much of a look at Stromness, however, as the itinerary demanded a quick blast in the car around the western mainland to the ferry port at Tingwall, where we parked up and set out on foot on a second smaller ferry to Rousay (2), where we would be spending our first Orkney night. Rousay is an island 13.1 miles around, if you go on the road, we knew this because of the upcoming race around the island, and is home to slightly more than two hundred people. It's one of the hillier and more rugged islands of Orkney, to the north west of the mainland, separated by the narrow Eynhallow Sound. 

Terminal
Ferry number two - Tingwall to Rousay
We jumped off the twenty minute boat and carried our bags up the hill in the direction of the hostel, at the Trumland Organic Farm just a few hundred yards from the pier. However, we had only made it an even shorter distance before we were accosted by a man coming out of the pub. Who were we, where we staying, did we want a lift? Did we want a drink? He said he would arrange it all for us, so we happily joined him (Jock) for a mid-afternoon pint. Whilst we waited for our lift (it turned out just a lift for the bags, but it was hardly that far anyway) we talked to Jock about the smaller islands around Rousay, and whether we would be able to get there. 

Rousay - Island #2

Eynhallow is a small island in the Eynhallow Sound (obviously) with a ruined church and it's used for sheep grazing, but apparently the man with a boat that might have been able to take us had family visiting from New Zealand, so perhaps he might be too busy (too bad). The Holm of Skokness, situated around to the East and in between Rousay and Egilsay is smaller again, and to get there we would apparently have to traverse the land owned by new blood in the island and it didn't seem likely that we'd be able to get there either. It seemed therefore that we would have to settle for getting to know Rousay instead, so after getting our bearings at the hostel we decided to take a leisurely stroll along the road the the Midhowe Broch at 
Westness. 

The view from the hostel

The view of the hostel
 This is one of the more important sites in Orkney, let alone Rousay, with a huge burial chamber preserved under a modern cover, the Broch itself (pretty good, but not as good as Mousa, we've clearly been spoiled on the Broch front) and a chain of further ruinous buildings along the coast, tracing history from neolithic man, through vikings settlers and medieval farmers right up to the present day.

Blackhammer Chambered Cairn. One of many Chambered Cairns you will see
I hadn't slept for thirty hours and had just walked five miles. Tired face.
Midhowe Broch
Looking down Eynhallow Sound from the Broch
Neolithic living room
It was a long long time, however, before we were able to find any of this out, and this is probably a good time to introduce the concept of the 'Orkney Mile'. Whenever someone on Orkney says something is a mile away, it takes three times as long to walk it as it does anywhere else, so the five miles from the hostel the Broch, a half hour poke around, and then the five mile walk back again, after a night in the car without a bed, and a full days exploring on top, left us more than ready for a simple meal of pasta, a glass of wine and a game of cards before winding down for bed. Day one done, two new islands, but this was just a gentle reintroduction to the island bagging ways (and with the 'hearty' walk, a bit of a baptism of fire, perhaps? Tomorrow? A-Hoy!

Sunset over Eynhallow