Saturday                Shapinsay

After an 8 o’clock breakfast we rode to the harbour where the ferry left for Shapinsay at 9.45. It was quite an old boat. One side of the boat had a narrow indoor seating area with small too high windows. This was taken up with a party of youths. The largest area of seating was downstairs with no windows at all. Both places felt claustrophobic. Steps went to the upper deck from the other side of the boat just behind the wheelhouse and although a little chilly, this was the best place to sit. The Captain’s safety message came on but the crackly microphone and ship’s noisy engine made it impossible to hear. The ferry makes 6 return trips a day.

It was foggy on and off today and earlier we had thought we might not get a boat from the lack of view from our bedroom window.

After ½ hour we disembarked last with the bike to see people being herded into a cattle truck with no seats. It looked quite a squash! This was transport for the pedestrians on the ferry. There was a lot of giggling going on anyway. We think most of these were the Jehovah witnesses from Kirkwall who were systematically visiting the little islands. Up on deck we were a captive audience for their tracts which I refused but then found the young lad who engaged us pleasant and willing to talk about things other than the Bible. I had thought they were going to a wedding because they all looked so smart unlike the intrepid tourists. We saw some later after most of the day door knocking and looking a little underdressed for the chilly air.

To the left of Kirkwall Bay Balfour Castle dominates, but unfortunately this is privately owned.

We turned right from the Shapinsay Pier, passing houses low and terraced. It was too early for the Heritage Centre in the old Smithy to be open. Shapinsay has a population of around 300 and 3,000 head of cattle.

We passed a Martello Tower with modern bricks on its top so maybe it was used in world war 2. The Orkneys seem to contain many war relics.

It was not as arduous as yesterday but no way near flat till Ness where there was a beach with beautifully made seats that lifted to the vertical to keep off rain. We scoured the beach looking for the groatie buckie, a minute cowrie shell, and found something looking like fossilised wood. The red sandstone here has made layers of red soil visible through erosion.

All the land seems to be divided into fields - by drystone walls or wire fencing. All the fields are square which makes Shapinsay unique. This was brought about by the laird who built the Victorian Balfour Castle.

All along our route oyster catchers sat on posts and curlews were abundant. There were places selling craft but no shops apart from a few in Balfour village. There were old style red phone boxes, unvandalized except by the weather. We rode out as far as we could towards the North East then back to a signpost saying Burroughston Broch.

 Leaving the bike we walked a path by wild flower meadows towards the sea, where at its edge set within a grassy mound is a fantastic ruin of an Iron Age ( c 2000years ago) round tower. From the top you can look down inside. It stands 10 feet high with passages in the double walls and a living area in the centre, dotted with remains of stone furniture. An iron grille covers what may have been a well or steps. The stone doorway’s lintel was only just above my head height and the wall rooms would require crouching right down to enter. We were completely alone and this place feeds the imagination.

A dog barked fiercely as we rode by a farm with a Beware of the Chickens sign! Then we came to the Mora Stone originally erected 5,000 years ago but, since being knocked down and broken, was  re-erected by the landowner and now sits 1 metre shorter. There was no information at the stone itself but I loved the way it was covered in lichen and around its base bits had been broken off perhaps by birds for nesting material.

We cycled a different route back to the village and the heritage centre which was open. The fare at the café here was disappointing, especially the bread which was supposed to be baked that morning at the bakers, which also doubles as an everything- shop. It was nice to have something hot anyway and it is open till 5.

The centre had interesting artefacts upstairs. We marvelled at the models of Scara Brae and the Broch that had been exquisitely made by local schoolchildren in the 1960s.

We had been on the island more than 5 hours. A couple walking had completed 10 miles but we had only cycled 15 with a bit of walking.

At the gateway to the Gothic castle there is a waiting room and toilets for the ferry passengers. To the right of this building is an unusual style – a vertical stone set in a gap in the wall with a space underneath for dogs. Must have been built by someone with old dogs! Across the field full of cows you come to the beach and the old Douche Tower built in the 17^th century from stone and topped with a dovecot. In the 19^th century the tower was used as a salt water shower. The rocky outcrop descent from the field looked and felt too slippy so we couldn’t see inside.

We went back to the shop and bought some Orkney bere bannock to try, as eavesdropping I heard someone eating it in the café saying it was tasty with his ploughmans. It was dark and flat with a slight beer flavour which is probably because bere is 6 row barley that has been grown on the islands for 1,000s of years. It also reminded me of sour dough, soda bread.

By the harbour are old ruins of salt ( sea washed)  toilets covered in creepers. These were used by the seasonal herring fishers who stayed in the bothies in the village in the mid 19^th century.

The ferry came in with some sea  fog but the boats run in all weathers using radar. The rather nice Jehovah Witnesses came back on the boat with us after a day knocking on doors. They didn’t talk “shop” and we all sat outside in the chilly air.

Back in Kirkwall we headed for the Real Bar which seems to have a music school above it. People of all ages passed by to the stairs carrying violin cases. This is a music hub throughout the week. I enjoyed a hot apple and cinnamon drink. It had a touch of the Costa coffee shop here I thought. As we sat we heard what sounded like sticks on tin cans. It was a truck with bride to be and female friends sitting making a racket as they passed. They were all covered in molasses and flour and drinking as they circumnavigated the town. Bob got up countless times to get the “perfect picture” of the 2 different hen parties- Lucy’s and Bethany’s. Yesterday we’d seen the menfolk but thought they were just a triumphant football team.

 

 

 

 

Kirkwall’s Cathedral, St. Magnus’s, is next door to the Bar and we make a brief visit though it is a hub of activity. Wedding photos are being taken on the front steps. Inside a practice is going on for a presentation with music and actors. On first look I thought this to be a modern church of red brick and was unprepared for the beauty and antiquity of the place. It is in part over 850 years old and mostly of red sandstone with some yellow and is impressive on the skyline. Inside there is craftmanship from many different periods, fine carvings, wall arcading, interesting gravestones, stained glass and a wealth of history. I could have spent a long time looking but we tiptoed around the group with the microphones in the core of the building and we didn’t want to get in the way of their rehearsals.

We’d noticed a fish and chip shop (probably the only one) with a constant queue and thought we’d slum it a bit today. They had a small area of tables so we could sit down and eat. It was a long wait and the system was a bit confusing but eventually we got our dinner and it was fresh and tasty as expected.

Afterwards we went to St Ola’s for a pint of Orkney ale and although tables had reserved times on, we were able to sit for an hour, playing Scrabble. It is very lively here on a Saturday and one of the scrubbed- up hen parties noisily took over some of the tables.

 

A pipe band was to play in Kirkwall at 7.30. Crowds were gathering, lining the street. There were many pipers and drummers. The drummers kicked off with complicated rhythm sets and then the bag pipes, ear deafening in the narrow streets joined them as they marched up and down in true regimental fashion. It was impressively precise and exciting to watch.

At 8 oclock we were first in the door of the Real Bar to bag a table for the night expecting folk music. People were crowding in but nothing actually started till 9. A small group started to play Planxty Irwin but we couldn’t see them and audience far out- numbered instrumentalists. Maybe the evening warmed up a bit but we decided to call it a night. It had been a good day!