Leaving our overnight berth tucked behind the old WWII emplacement on top of the cliffs, we headed north to Skara Brae. Here the staff were just opening up as we arrived and we wandered slowly around the indoor display before exploring the reconstructed house just outside the centre. We agreed that probably no self-respecting Neolith would have kept live lobsters on top of their dresser, even one made of stone, but otherwise there was plenty of headroom under the high domed roof, the smoke-vent let in a good degree of light and there was as much storage space in the house as in most places, with comfortable-looking box-beds which could have accomodated generous bedding allowances of bracken, heather or dry grass rather than merely having a few deer and shep skins draped forlornly over them. With the big central hearth, we felt the house was probably quite snug and warm even in the Orkney winds – the tunnel that linked the house to the rest of the village being insulated nicely under a thick layer of refuse, seashells and assorted midden contents for that purpose.
Outside the reconstruction, we walked unhurriedly along the path, admiring a wide sandy beach that curved beautifully before a marvellously blue-and-green sea, finally reaching the enclosure where the genuine village is preserved. A kind lady there was armed with a brush and a bucket of water for cleaning seabird guano off the paths, but explained that the pair of fulmars nesting on the roof of hut 1 have been friends for 14 years and are now mates. They make a habit, apparently, of landing inside the hut and then not being able to get out again, but recently a workman carefully herded them through the door and along the corridor, thus showing the birds the correct exit procedure, and now they remove themselves from the hut without assistance.
The huts are fairly small, perhaps twenty feet across, but provide all the basics of civilisation; beds, hearths, storage facilities, a place to display one’s treasures on a stone dresser facing the door and the neighbours (perhaps close kin?) living next door along the corridor. One hut even appeared to have a granny-flat annexe to the main building! Apparently the midden was laid down first and only when it had accumulated sufficient depth and density was the village tunnelled into it and the individual rooms built in the typical flat, nicely-laid flagstone architecture of the Orkneys.
Having completed our slow perambulation, we headed back to the visitor centre and breakfast; Earl Grey tea and the local cheese board for me, scone and jam for Anny. We followed the good food with a tour of the gift shop (naturally) and then enquired about refilling the water tank, which had just provided us with our morning tea before running empty on us. The kitchen staff kindly shoved our 10L tank under their tap and even apologised for not knowing how to work the complicated sealing arrangements!
With everything now at hand and no need to be anywhere before the ferry terminal tomorrow, we decided that a lazy afternoon on a beach somewhere would be good. We ran down to Stromness, getting a feel for the ferry terminal’s position, then on over the hill to a little carpark at the end of a narrow lane with a lovely view over Pulse Skerry to the Atlantic, Hoy and Hoy Sound to the south. We spent the afternoon unwinding in warm sunshine, buzzed gently by a variety of seabirds and visited by various dogs and their walkers, as well as the antics of the local sea-kayaking group practising emergency drills off the beach.
We decided to follow up last night’s limpet deluxe with crispy fried nettles to accompany a ham-and-cheese scrambled egg dish, which all turned out to be delicious. More glorious sunsets ensured in due course, captured on the phone (pics later!) and we settled down for our last night on Orkney. Alas!
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