6
Sunday
In the
morning we set out to see the Viking ruins on the Brough of Birsay, an island
accessible only at low tide. Win has a thing about Vikings—so do I,
actually—and I sold him this trip on the strength of Orkney’s Nordic heritage.
The ruins are interesting, but there isn’t really much showing above the ground.
Win is more taken by a nearby headland where he stands on low-lying rocks,
nearly surrounded by the crashing sea. He is in a trance for some time.
Down the coast a way lies Orkney’s signature attraction, Skara Brae.
This little Neolithic village lay covered by sand for thousands of years, until
a storm revealed it in 1850. One of the oldest known settlements in Europe, it
has given archeologists many important clues about Britain’s earliest
civilizations. The roofless houses contain central hearths, box beds, dressers,
and other furnishings, all made of thin slabs of stone. Outside the small museum
at the entry is a complete replica of one of the houses, giving the visitor a
good feeling for what life in Orkney might have been like 5,000 years ago.
In Kirkwall, we explore the medieval ruins of the Earl’s Palace and the
Bishop’s Palace, across the street from the cathedral. The tower of the Bishop’s
Palace gives a fine view over the church.
We catch a late afternoon
ferry for the northern isle of Westray. We have spent some time debating whether
it will be worth the visit since we found out two days ago that the winter ferry
schedule will leave us very little daylight for exploration. It’s possible to
plan a full day’s trip to any of the outer islands, but we are running on a very
tight itinerary. We land and check into our hotel in the village of Pierowall.
The semicircular bay is as pretty as any in Orkney, but the town is very small,
and the hotel is, shall we say, rustic. We run up the road to the gloomy ruin of
Noltland Castle, finding the key to the keep hanging by the door of an adjacent
farmhouse. A full moon rises over the bay as we poke through the castle in the
gathering darkness.
The trip to Westray is made worthwhile by dinner and
pints at the Cleaton House Hotel, two miles outside town. Food and drink are
both excellent, and the innkeeper (another Malcolm) is friendly. He turns us on
to some of the local music, including a band called Three Peace Sweet, who have
made a song out of an English soldier’s wartime lament called Bloody Orkney:
All bloody clouds, all bloody rain
No bloody kerbs, no bloody
drains
The Council's got no bloody brains
In bloody Orkney!
I make a mental note to stay at Cleaton House the next time I go to Westray.
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