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!