Unfortunately, I waited until the middle of December to make the sojourn to Orkney, because I'm a complete and utter dolt. Any of you in the audience have an idea what happens to the sun in Scotland come the winter time?
IT DISAPPEARS. Like any reasonably intelligent person, it high-tails it the hell out of the bone-chilling cold of the UK, skips on over to the Azores and sips fruity drinks out of coconuts while wedging its stellar heiny deep into the sand. (Can you blame it?)
Seriously, though, I'm talking six hours a day of sunlight, MAX. Sunrise, 9:30. Sunset, 3:30. Not a whole lot of sightseeing to be done when the better part of the day is spent in pitch darkness. Consequently, me hoofing around the islands for a long weekend sans motorized transportation was out of the question. However, I still wanted to experience the freedom of the open air, the little bit of danger, adventure, and unpredictability that only backpacking can provide. I reviewed my options and decided that I'd ultimately have to hire a car, but not just any ol' car. Allow me to introduce you to my trusty steed, Magnus:
Those of you who collected Hot Wheels as a kid are probably saying, "I totally had one of those." You'd probably be right. This lavender beauty is the sporty, zippy, and frighteningly small Ford Ka. I'm only slightly exaggerating when I tell people it had the chassis of a Matchbox Chevy and the motor of a hotel mini-hairdryer. Those tires look like they were stripped off some poor kid's Radio Flyer. I was, for all intents and purposes, behind the wheel of a rolling Easter egg.
Honestly, I'm being a little hard on old man Magnus. After all, he was barrels of fun to drive, almost like a go-kart with the added strength of a small pony. With his help, I managed to cover the bulk of the Orkney mainland and some of the surrounding islands, a trip that has left an indelible impression on me. I haven't a clue as to why it has taken me so long to make this post. Perhaps I just don't want to share. Good thing you guys caught me in a generous mood, eh?
One of the first stops I made was as the sun started breaking over the countryside. I had been forewarned that the weather on Orkney could be dreary and often unpredictable, but I was lucky enough to have three glorious days of the most beautiful weather I have enjoyed almost anywhere, let alone the UK.
Lochside on the way to Maes Howe, an ancient cairn in the heart of Mainland, the largest of the Orkney islands. I stopped to do a little soil collecting, as I tend to do, and ended up lingering here for the better part of an hour, snapping pictures, smelling the salt air blowing in from the Atlantic, and listening to the crunch of frosted grass under my feet.
Near the lochan was a walking trail that pointed toward the island of Hoy, notable for its twin peaks featured here. I was tempted to go for a wander, but I had a date with a World Heritage representative that I had to make. Next time, Orkney, next time.
I know I've posted no fewer than ten rainbows in this blog in the past, but damn it, I can't help it. They're freakin' everywhere. Not that I'm complaining. (And neither should you.)
Practically the whole of Orkney is a World Heritage site. Across the island there are vestiges of an ancient, Neolithic culture that inhabited this remote location over 5,000 years ago. This verdant mound is Maes Howe, a chambered cairn or burial mound that is constructed of 30 tons of sandstone mined from the surrounding countryside. From the inside, the mound looks like an turned-out ziggurat, the layers of sandstone forming steps along the walls. Looking closely, one can see the runic carvings of a band of Vikings that broke in sometime during the 12th century. My guide told me the vandals carved such profound messages as "Leif wuz here...lulz" and "Orly? No wai!" into the ancient walls. (Well, whatever the 12th-century equivalent would have been.)
Although the architecture of the tomb is striking given the age of the culture that designed it, the most amazing aspect of the tomb was its celestial function. At the front of the cairn lies a low-ceilinged passageway that extends 10 meters into the mound before opening up to a domed central chamber. Looking out of this entrance, one sees the twin peaks of Hoy, the twin lochs of Stenness and Harray, and, flanking them, twin standing stone circles. (Noticing a pattern?) During the winter solstice, as the sun dips below the peaks of Hoy, a ray of light escapes, passing between the sandstone mountains directly into the cairn, illuminating the interior. According to the guide, the weather during the winter solstice is usually not conducive to such a spectacle, but on the years that it does occur, a sense of magic settles on the region.
Making my way from Maes Howe, I stopped next at the Ring of Brodgar, an ancient standing stone circle that rivals Stonehenge in size and age.
The Ring, which sits on a small strip of land slap-bang in the middle of the two lochs, originally was home to 60 standing stones, though only 27 stones remain standing today.
The Watchtower stone surveying the Ring with the peaks of Hoy behind it.
Although the true function of the Ring remains unknown, archaeologists speculate that it was used as a celestial guide. The stone in the foreground of the preceding image is called the Comet Stone, and sits apart from the Ring itself.
The stone lying on the ground was felled in the 1980s after being struck by lightning. Fragments of the base remain firmly lodged in the Ring.
Looking toward the ritual burial ground from the rear flank of the Ring.
Finally, a parting shot of the lichens growing on the stones of the Ring. For those of you who are interested (perhaps all one of you), those are crustose lichens, among the hardiest (and slowest growing) organisms on the planet. Man, I loves me some fungal symbioses.
Stay tuned, everyone! Still to come: Sampling Scotland II, Electric Boogaloo!
