News from Nowhere

We are back on Mainland, at the Barony Hotel. We first came here long ago with desperance, and then, more recently - this journal tells me that even that was ten years ago - with Gail. Our host claims to recognise us, which is impressive, if true. We are in the bar, with a pot of tea, because although wifi was installed throughout the hotel, it stopped working when they were converted to fibre broadband; but it is no hardship to sit in comfort at a table with a view of the Loch of Boardhouse, and I have just uploaded a photo, so there's nothing wrong with the broadband once you find it!

Yesterday afternoon we took the Westness Walk along the coast in the southwest of Rousay. It's only about a mile long, but it is crammed with interesting things to see. It's a pity that the best of them are at the beginning: it might even be worth reversing polarity. You would then end with a steep scramble back up to the road, instead of starting, as we did, with a steep scramble down, but you would finish with the beautiful broch at Midhowe, and the massive chambered cairn. The sequence of ruined farms which follow are not in the same class, though they are still a delight -in fact, my favourite of yesterday's pictures might be this sunny corner of the farm of Brough (or Broch):



After this, the path gets trickier, picking its way along the stony shore, and the archaeological finds are increasingly difficult to detect on the ground. Eventually, the path spits you out into a farmyard, and then its up the track and easy walking along the road - hard on the feet, but with great views below of the way you have come, and the island of Eynhallow beyond. One final treat, just before I reached the car, was that rare thing, a bird I could both see and hear, which makes identification a lot easier: first from the hillside above me, a sound as of knocking small stones together, then, posing on a fencepost, a bird about the size of a sparrow, dark wings, black tail, light russet breast - I'm pretty sure it was a stonechat.

This morning we said farewell to Rousay and took the morning ferry back to Mainland: a beautiful bright day, the sea glassy clear and glittering. The road to Birsay led straight past the Yellowbird Gallery, so we called in to say hello. I was delighted to see that, after a break, Jon Thompson is carving wooden birds again, but what I bought (in addition to some cards) was a print in which the outlines were pure Jon, but the colouring reminded me of Lesley Murdoch's landscapes.

After lunch at the tearooms, tucked in next to the tomato greenhouses, we crossed the causeway to the tidal island of the Brough. I should not have been surprised that it was busy, on a fine sunny Bank Holiday Sunday. We walked up the hill to the lighthouse, across a hillside strewn with constellations of blue squill, and then poked about the Viking remains, all cushioned with pink thrift (I don't remember the chamber labelled 'Viking sauna?', that must be newly excavated, or perhaps just newly identified).

And when we had had enough of the sunshine, we came here to relax.

The mist has been flirting with us all day.

durham_rambler raised the blinds at the bedroom window and demanded "Where has Wyre gone?" The island that had been so clear and sharp across the water in yesterday's sunshine was nowhere to be seen. As we breakfasted, first the shoreline and then the green slopes began to emerge, and we hoped the process would continue, but no.

Never mind. In the morning we strolled down to the Heritage Centre (aka Ferry Terminal Waiting Room, but with a display of much interesting material) and Craft Hub, then returned to Cedarlee for lunch.

In the afternoon, wanting both to forage at the shop and to book dinner at the Taversoe Hotel for one night of our stay, we decided to drive all round the island. There were stops for photography, but there's no hope of uploading photos over the local broadband, so you'll have to take my word for the majestic abandoned mill, the marsh marigolds, the sea dissolving into a blue mist beyond the drystone wall which gleamed grey in the sun. It's brighter along the north coast of the island, still hazy but when we paused by the little beach the sun was warm on our back (the wind was still sharp, of course). durham_rambler thinks he saw a seal, and this isn't in itself unlikely, but I didn't see it, and nor did his camera. Back round again to the south, and there was Eynhallow, a grey smudge in a silver sea.

We picked up a couple of hitchhikers by the start of the Westness Walk - they were in Orkney for the Folk Festival, had come to Rousay for the day and spent too long at Midhowe, and now faced a long walk with a ferry to catch. We dropped them where our turning leaves the road, and were home in time for tea.