My Home in Eday Part 2

Saturday 2 August 2014

2:15 PM

The isle of Eday, Scotland, UK

The post office is open, but the cash point won't take my card. I lack a chip... damn American debit cards... However, the nice ladies in the shop are able to get me sorted with some cash back, and so all is well.

There is a sign for the Eday heritage walk right by the shop, and as it would turn out, that walk contains the remainder of Eday's cairns. There is a short ride down a B road before there is a sign and one of those weird gate things.The thing with these gates is that only one person at a time can fit through it (and a skinny person at that). Bikes are a no go, and so I'm forced to leave Ethel behind.

This is apparently called a kissing gate. I didn't take this photo, nor do I know the elderly gentleman using this one. Either way, I'm sure you can see how such a gate would pose a problem for a bike.

It's a very short walk to the Stone of Setter, which happens to be the tallest monolith in Orkney (for the record, a monolith is a single standing stone, hence the prefix "mono").

This is the Stone of Setter, which is apparently 4.5m tall (although it is believed that it used to be even taller). 

I continue on to Braeside, a stalled chambered cairn in rough shape. It has clearly been excavated and the entrance is really easy for me to make out. The cool thing is that the entrance pretty clearly lines up with the Stone of Setter. This is an older cairn, so that probably dates the stone as well. Unfortunately, this isn't the most photogenic of cairns. So I'll spare you the photos.
Only a few hundred metres away is Huntersquoy Cairn. I have to say, I wish all my days here in Orkney were this easy. All my targets are within sight of one another. When I see it, I start to get excited. It looks like it's completely in-tact. As it so happens, it is. But... it's also completely flooded.

I love my job, but you couldn't pay me enough to go for a swim in a flooded subterranean Neolithic tomb. 

There is one more cairn on my walk, and to get there I have to make my way up the steep Vinquoy Hill. There are sheep everywhere, but the ground is covered in grass not heather. The climb is certainly worth it. I mean even if the cairn was a dud, the climb would have been worth it.

This is a panoramic view from the top of Vinquoy Hill which incidentally is on top of the cairn as well. It starts facing the Holm of Faray and the southern tip of the Isle of Westray, but you get to see a good deal of Eday as well as the Calf of Eday in this shot.

Lucky for me, this cairn isn't a dud. In fact, this cairn is the best/coolest cairn I've visited since coming to Orkney. This is because it's not in ruins. There is a long, low, gently curving entrance which opens up to a tall but cosy chamber. There are four smaller chambers which split out from the main one. each of their entrances are as low and narrow as the passageway into the main chamber. However, once inside these chambers are tall enough for me to stand in. Although, they leave me with an intense feeling of claustrophobia.

The entrance to the cairn as seen from the back wall.

The original roof had been replaced with a cement block fitted with a skylight. This illuminates the central chamber, and I have to say I enjoy the foliage which is growing along the top. It really adds to the feel of the place.

I think, if I lived on Eday, I would come here often. It's a good place to think.

My Home in Eday Part 1

Saturday 2 August 2014

9:27 AM

The isle of Eday, Scotland, UK

I wake to the uncomfortable press of a bed spring my side. It’s morning, but not as early as I’ve gotten up the past few days.  It’s good to relax, and if last night was any indicator, I may have over budget might time here in Eday. My roommate, or house-mate rather, went into town today and so I have the place to myself (when you're in the northern isles "going to town" means "going to Kirkwall" back on the mainland). 
The hostel here is really more of a small house. Sure there are loads of bedrooms, but there is also a lounge which feels an awful lot like a living room, and a kitchen, which well, is a kitchen.

Here's a picture of Eday Youth Hostel from the outside. Although this picture was taken the night before.

Okay, so this is the part where I’m supposed to tell you that I get to work busily cooking an elaborate breakfast. That doesn’t happen. Instead I feast upon the amazing wonders of the apple pop tart, which to be fair, is a delicacy that isn’t available back in the states.

With breakfast out of the way, I return my room and begin washing my clothes in the sink. Of course there is a washer and dryer available to me, but it costs money and furthermore it just doesn’t feel right in this place. To be honest, there is a part of me that relishes the novelty of washing my clothes in a sink. That part of me especially enjoys hanging my clothes out on the line. 

This is London Bay as seen from my clothesline, although this was also taken the night before. It's the east side of the island, and that landmass you can kind of see in the picture is the isle of Sanday.

The isle of Eday is long and narrow, and so from my clothesline I can see the ocean on both sides. The sun is shining brightly overhead, and I can smell salt in the wind that rustles to my hair.

I suppose the first order of business, is getting more food. The shop doesn’t open for another few hours, and so I might as well get a bit of work done while I wait. I pack my British flag bag with my Archaeoastronomy gear, and head outside to get Ethel. 

There’s a cairn not too far from here, well come to think of it, anywhere on this island is not too far from here. This first one is halfway between my house and the shop. As I glide down the narrow road, I occasionally check my GPS to make sure I hadn’t overshot it. This little gizmo has proven to be more than helpful than I ever could have imagined.

The cairn is on a hill in a field of heather that overlooks the sea. To get there, I have to jump a barbed wire fence, a talent at which I am becoming increasingly skilled. Unfortunately, most of my hike has been for naught. From the looks of things, there might be a cairn here. However, it hasn’t been excavated and there is no way to tell if or where the entrance might have faced.

Even still, I sit on its summit and survey the landscape. Directly in front of me is the ocean and the isle of Sanday. It’s a nice view for a nice day, even if the cairn turned out to be a dud.

Sorry this is wobbly. It's my first attempt at a panorama. The day was much sunnier than this video depicts and I had to mute the sound in order to get rid of the sound the wind which was rather persistent as I sat here.

I continue on to the shop, where I buy some groceries and ask about the cash point. Apparently, you can pull money from the post office but that won’t be open for another couple hours. So I return home with my groceries and check on my clothes. They’re still wet, but I hadn’t expected them to be dry quite yet.

I'll give them another look when I get back in.

Message in a Bottle

Monday 28^th July 2014

11:37am

The Island of Sanday, Scotland, UK

The ferry drops me off on the south west side of the island. Incidentally this is about as far away as I could be from any of the cairns. In fact, when I was first looking at a map of Sanday, I thought – this is the part of the island I won’t need to visit. With a small sigh, I hop on Ethel and together we begin the long bike ride across the island.

According to the sign I just passed, the Village of Lady is only 8¾ miles away. Luckily the road seems to be mostly flat, or at least more so than Hoy. As I ride along, it doesn’t take me long to notice why they call this Island Sanday. There are beaches everywhere made up of surprisingly white sand. The island is long and narrow and so as I ride I can often see the ocean on one side or both.

The day is overcast, and it’s the sky and the distinctly Orcadian scent of Wisconsin-like farm fields spliced with the salty scent of nearby sea water which reminds me that I am not in the Caribbean.

The 8¾ miles to Lady pass much quicker than I might have expected. I consider looking for a tourist information centre, but decide it’s not worth the bother. I have a good map, and my GPS has those maps loaded into it. What would I need to ask directions for? – I think as I continue down the road.

Eventually I come across a car park, which has a map outlining some of the sites around the Cata Sand. From the looks of this map, if I take this path ahead, I should make it to Quoyness chambered tomb in no time.

I begin walking down the path, which is great, until the path abruptly stops. I have to hop a barbed wire fence, a task at which I’m becoming increasingly skilled. I pull out my GPS in order to make sure I’m on the right track. As it would turn out, I’ve overshot Quoyness. I’m on a peninsula called Tres Ness, but there is a cairn at the very end of this peninsula so I continue on. Stubborn could be my middle name.

It’s about this time that my audio book completes, and I am forced to switch to another, a nauseously sappy third person teen aged love story. It’s this symphony of dribble that I have to listen to as I continue on trudging through the heather.

After hopping yet another fence and working hard to not trip on the uneven ground, I start to ask myself if there is an easier way to do this. The answer is simple: go to the beach. From here I see an easily accessible stretch of the Cata Sand and I make a b-line for it.

The Cata Sand (It's whiter in person)

The hiking here is much easier going, and after a few hundred yards, I’m able to cross over to the other side of the peninsula. Ahead of me is the Bay of Newark… and I’m not exactly prepared for this. This… this isn’t Orkney. This is a scene that can only belong to a small caye in the middle of the Caribbean.  There is nothing but the ocean before me, and a long gently curving sliver of soft white sand. The waves gently lap the shore, and the air smells like the sea and beach.

I didn't take this picture because it was cloudy when I was hear. However, had the weather been better this is what the beach would have looked like. I didn't have a good picture to show so I thought you wouldn't mind seeing the place at it's best.

If my Mom lived in Orkney, this is where she would want to be – I think as I continue down the peninsula towards the cairn. After a little while, the beach transforms into a field of wave rounded slabs of thin stone. Despite being the world’s largest collection of ready made skipping stones, they also serve as one of the most precarious surfaces to walk on. For this reason, my eyes are glued to the ground.

In another life, it seems, I used to hike along the Esk River in search of antique pottery shards. My eyes became trained to lock onto interesting objects around my feet. It’s for this reason, I believe, that I see this:

I almost walk past it. In my head it goes something like this: rock, rock, shell, rock, rock, rock, animal bone, rock, shell, shell, bit of rope, rock, rock, rock, bottle, huh that bottle has a bit of paper in it.. 

is that? 

No... 

Really‽ 

Yes! 

A message in a bottle‽ 

People actually send those‽

So I immediately unscrew the cap and read the note.

The note reads:

My name is Manaw. I am nearly 15 years old. I live in Strandebarm. I like to play fotball and go skiing. I love my best friends. If you would like to write back or get contact with me: (a Norwegian phone number)
snapchat: (I'm not going to list that either)
 

(This is a task in my english class, so I speaks norwigian normally).

It's very boring in Strandebarm, I hope you will answer me someday!

The letter concludes with the smiley face you see.

This is a map of Sanday. The red line is my route which starts at the red dot near Hacks Ness (the red dot is the ferry terminal) and goes all the way to the cairn at the tip of Tres Ness. The orange X close by is where I found the message in a bottle.

A Summery, in Poem Form

Monday he rode across his state

To make that all important date

Tuesday he flew over the sea

To gain adventure and to be free

Wednesday he rode to his home

From where his heart would never roam

Thursday he continued north

As part of the journey which had been set forth

Friday he rode the ocean

And fought a bird with a swinging motion

Saturday he biked over land

To reach a bed that was less than grand

And on the seventh day, he did rest

As it turns out, God knows best…

On the 7th Day He Rested

27^th July 2014

8:37am

Kirkwall, Scotland, UK

This hostel has breakfast. It’s the only thing that’s getting me out of bed this early. The way I see it, my choices for the day are three:

a.      Bike around Kirkwall to collect data on nearby cairns.

b.      Take a ferry to one of the Northern Islands and collect data on cairns there.

c.       Take a day off.

The bible says God rested on the 7^th day. Well I’m not God, nor have I been busy creating anything but I have been travelling for the past 6 days almost non-stop. I reckon I’ve earned myself a day off. In a small fit of poetry, I mentally compose the following poetic summary of the previous six days.

It would have bugged me if I did nothing productive all day, and so after breakfast I head out to the travel centre to get some ferry time tables. I’m not going to go anywhere today, but this will make it easier to plan out later days.

After marking my calendar, I begin wandering the town. It’s a nice little town, Kirkwall. The shops are a bit touristy, but that doesn’t mean they’re not fun to poke around. 

It's easier now

But there is more paperwork involved.

I buy another post card, and put a few coins into the hat of a girl playing the guitar.

Eventually, I walk into a café that is supposed to have WIFI. Unfortunately, their WIFI is on the fritz, but even still I’m able to get a lot done while I sip tea and eat scones. I don’t know how you spend your days off, but that sounds pretty ideal to me.

Eventually the sun comes out, and I go back outside. 

This is St. Magnus Cathedral it was built in the 12th century and sits right in the city centre.

I find myself in the Kirkwall Museum which has all kinds of artefacts from the Ness of Brodgar excavation which is going on right now. It’s some pretty remarkable stuff if you’re into that sort of thing (which I’m sure you know I am).

The Long Journey

26^th July 2014

8:35am

The Island of Hoy, Scotland, UK

My alarm wakes me, and it’s too early. My whole body is exhausted and sore from the several hours of hiking I did the night before, and probably the other traveling I did yesterday. A normal person would allow themselves a day off, but no not me. Perhaps I’m insane, certifiably so. However, this doesn’t change the fact that I’ve got to make it to my hostel in Kirkwall later today.

I eat breakfast, thankfully finishing the remainder of my heavier grocery items. Everything I have can fit in just my backpack and shoulder bag. From now on, this is the only way I want to travel by bike.

It’s a long trek to the ferry terminal, but I’m confident I can make the 10:00 ferry. I don’t really have a choice in the matter; the only other ferry off the island isn’t until 5:00. The problems with Saturdays…

It’s a hard ride, but I’m able to glide down most of the hills. I get lost only the once, and then I’m at the pier with plenty of time to spare. The ride to Stromness is equally smooth, but it was bound to be. The sea is calm, yet everything is covered in a fog so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Okay so in this episode of Scooby Doo there is a really thick fog. Scooby literally cuts out a doughnut with a knife and then takes a bite. I really wanted to find an animated image of this but I wasn't able. Either way, the fog was this kind of thick.

When I arrive, I go to the information desk and ask if there are any good Cafés in town. The woman recommends Julia’s, and it’s just across the street, so I go there. By this point, I reckon I’ve earned a proper meal, or at least I will have earned a proper meal by the time I make it to Kirkwall.

I take my time with breakfast. I don’t really have to do anything today aside from make it to the hostel. The food is alright, but I’ve certainly had better. The interesting thing is how they did their tea. They gave two tea pots: one with hot water, one with very concentrated tea, no sugar, but a bit of milk, and two packages of butter. Now recently I had finished a book (the love story with thepeople who have horses which I mentioned in an earlier blog) and anyway there is a character who drank his tea with butter. I’d never heard of it before then, and now to see it offered before me, well let’s just say I was tempted. Maybe I’d give it a go eventually.

After brunch, I am back on the bike, which I have affectionately begun to call Ethel (for no reason in particular). Kirkwall is 19 miles away from Stromness. And I believe I have mentioned before the torture device that happens to double as my bike seat. I imagine getting used to riding a new bike would have some parallels with getting used to a horse you haven’t ridden before. Now I know nothing about horses, but I know a lot about riding bikes. And as I pedal down the road, I can’t help but to mentally remark at how I don’t have the feel of this thing yet. I don’t quite know how strong the breaks are, or how fast you can pump the pedals before they stall. I don’t know how it handles bumps or climbing a hill... Maybe I’m crazy but I think a bike should be an extension of you, and I certainly cannot claim that kind of relationship with Ethel.

So naturally, the trip goes great. I experience weather almost as beautiful as yesterday, make good time, don’t get hit by any cars, have enough water to last me the trip, get some nice road side views of the standing stones, listen to a good book, and by the end of the trip I think I’m getting a bruise in an area I’d rather not talk about on the internet.

It’s a bit past three when I find my way to the hostel. Unfortunately they’re closed. Apparently they’re only open in the mornings for check out, and between 5:00 & 10:00 for check in. So I have to occupy myself for a few hours.

My instinct is always “go to the library” So I do and get a library card at The Orkney Library and Archive. It’s actually quite nice for a library in a town only twice the size of Montello, WI. Although it’s hard to stay awake as I sit on the couch and look at potential books.

The library closes at 5:00 on Saturdays, which works out perfectly for me. I walk my bike back to the hostel. Since I arrived in town, I’ve taken to using Ethel as a pack mule which is amazingly effective. I’m checked in rather quickly, and it only takes me a few moments to find my room. However, once I do, I promptly pass out until the next morning.

Paying the Old Man a Visit

25^th July 2014

7:45pm

The Island of Hoy, Scotland, UK

I sit with Raphael, my roommate, at the small table in the hostel. I’m waiting for my “soup in a cup” to cool off. Last night in my Inverness hostel was my first experience with “soup in a cup” and I must say I was pleasantly surprised. It’s only soup powder that you add boiling water to. I know, it doesn’t sound like it would be any good. However, it’s actually better than some canned soups. Anyway Raphael is a cyclist who has been biking all around the UK, but he’s from Switzerland. I’m not sure exactly where in Switzerland other than the part that speaks French (Originally, I had guessed he was French due to his accent).

He tells me about his day. In the morning he hiked up to see The Old Man of Hoy, and tells me to watch out for a particular type of very territorial bird, known locally as a Bonxie. We are both leaving Hoy tomorrow morning, but it would be a crime to visit Hoy and not The Old Man – especially on a day as nice as this.

Before I head out, I bring my torch. I don’t think it will be dark before I get back, but just in case I want to be prepared. Now let me tell you, Rackwick hostel is about as close as you can get to the Old Man and still it’s one hell of a hike. I don’t mean that it’s a tough hike. It’s just really long.

The sun is just beginning to set, and so I have an excellent view of an illuminated cliffside on my way up. Also sheep. There are sheep everywhere, and they must be used to people, because they don’t run away from me until I get very close. They baaa at me and I baaa back, because why not?

Photo of the cliff seen on the way up

A long time ago, when I was on the Isle of Skye, I noticed that they would do this thing where occasionally they would have a very narrow stream, actually more of a rivulet, cut through the path and they would boarder each side of this rivulet with large stones so that the rest of the path doesn’t get eroded away. The stones are always close enough where it’s no bother to step from one to the next. Anyway, they seem to follow the same concept here.

Eventually, I make it to the top of the hill. It’s mostly flat up here, running straight to the cliffside. Although I’m not certain if it’s ancient, there seems to be a standing stone here right alongside the path. Anyway, I can see the top of The Old Man now, but thankfully no sign of the killer bird.

The Path leads you onto a peninsula that goes right up to The Old Man. The sun is in the perfect position where it is partially eclipsed by the stack as you can see here:

And the cliff is extraordinarily high up, but it’s also the kind of cliff you can hang your legs off of. As someone with a fear of heights, I am constantly working to break myself of this fear whenever I have the chance. So naturally, I sit on the edge of this cliff listening to the sound of the sea crashing onto the shore beneath me. Every second of it is terrifying and brilliant all at the same time.

I'm just sitting on the edge of the cliff. It's quite nice when you get over the dizzying heights.

I backtrack a ways to a secondary path which loops to a different peninsula that will give you an awesome side-long view of The Old Man. Trouble is, this takes you past the bonxie’s nest. I see her from a distance and she eyes me down, but she doesn’t move as I walk towards the other cliff. I have to admit I’m a bit paranoid, and so every time a gull swoops close to my head I practically jump. All the same, I manage to take several good shots before making my way back to the main path.

My camera can take decent photo's but it's not good with colours when there is too much light. So it was actually quite difficult to get an angle where you could see the colour in the rock of the cliff.

Once I've taken several photographs, I decide to go back the way I came. This time the bonxie notices me. Just like Raphael said she would, she starts by circling high over my head. 

I didn't take this photo, but this is a picture of a Bonxie officially known as the Great Skua. However, I can assure you that "great" is a poorly chosen word.

Now this is not a humming bird. I wouldn’t be surprised if this thing had a five foot wingspan. I pull off my jacket and hook the coat loop around my index finger. The bird goes back out along the plateau flying low to the ground directly towards me. About twenty feet away it lifts itself high in the air preparing to dive at me.

Some deeply imbedded instinct tells me that this monster is a predator and I am prey. Fight or flight kicks in, but flight is never an option against an opponent that can actually fly. I swing my coat high in the air yelling at it as loud as I can. The only sounds are my yell vibrating in my throat and my heart pounding in my chest. There is something terrifying, and raw, and primal about it.

The bird sees my coat, and pulls up from its dive a mere ten feet above my head. It circles back to its nest and rests there eyeing me much more warily than before. Despite having scared it off, my heart is still pounding in my chest so loudly that I can hear it. I’m not certain if it will mount a counter attack, but I most certainly do not want to be around if it decides I’m worth a round two.

We humans do not have many instincts, and I have to say it’s very strange when the animal inside takes over. I quickly make it to the main path without incident, feeling more awake and alive than I had all day. Ahead of me and beyond The Old Man are higher cliffs. I begin hiking to them, because when will I get another chance?

I never do make it to the top of the highest cliff. But I make it about half way. I’m high above The Old Man now, and there are other cliffs to look at from here. I find some rocks and toss them over the side. They shatter upon impact with the rocks below sending echoes reverberating to the cliff edge where I crouch.

If I were to continue up, I would make it to the highest cliffs in all of the UK. They rise some 300 metres (over 900 feet) above the churning North Sea below. However the sun is now setting and my feet are getting sore. I might make it to the top another time.

I'd never grow tired of this.