Le corncrake nouveau est arrivé!

We spent two nights on Mainland, staying in a B & B at Choin, up in the northwest of the island, not far from Skara Brae. We had a little trouble finding it, because our directions told us to turn at the phone box, and though we drove all the way up and then back down that stretch of road, there was no phone box to be seen. Eventually we turned at the post box, and arrived just fine. Later we asked our host about this: "Oh, no," he said, "that's right. It was a Hallowe'en prank - a couple of lads blew it up. Pity - it was an old red one, and the Korean and Japanese tourists used to photograph it..."

The house is newly built, the most modern accommodation we stayed in all holiday, and our bedrooms have views down the west coast on Mainland, and on to Hoy - sometimes, when the mist clears, you can see the Old Man. But it's the breakfast room with its two high glass walls - actually even more spectacular than in the picture here - around which the house was designed, with the instruction: as much glass as possible. This is a treat for the guests, but also for Stuart, who is a serious birder. Almost the first thing he said to us was "The corncrakes arrived two days ago" - corncrakes being extremely rare, and in the habit of nesting in the field at the end of the lane (and no doubt there are people who choose that B & B for that reason).

The only disadvantage is that the isolated setting means that when we go in search of dinner, we have to take the car. The first night we went to the Merkister Hotel, on the shores of Loch Harray, large, smart and busy, serving competent pub food at hotel prices. I warmed towards it as we left, and I saw the plaque identifying it as the family home of Eric Linklater, author of many things but especially The Wind on the Moon (googles: what do you mean, it's out of print?)

The next evening we decided to try to track down the hotel where durham_rambler and I had lunched with desperance on our previous visit. It had looked a little run down - in fact, we had wondered whether it had closed for the season - and the décor was not smart and modern. But the proprietor had been friendly, and had served us home-made mushroom soup (made from mushrooms he had picked himself) and sandwiches. So now we followed our recollections of the route, while the silver sunlight gleamed on a sea like milk, still, white and opaque, and came to the Barony Hotel.

The dinner menu was very similar to the one we'd been offered the previously night, but the food was well prepared and served with grace, and the three of us enjoyed it far more. And while we were eating it, the sun slid around the windows, and we took turns leaning sideways to avoid looking straight at it, and then leaning the other way to admire the clouds, which were taking on a rosy glow. So after dinner we drove out to the Brough of Birsay, and watched for a quarter of an hour while the sun descended in flames into the sea.