I lay flat on my back on a trolley resembling a giant’s skateboard. Gripping the rope that was slung along the roof just above my nose, I pulled myself hand-over-hand through the low, damp stone tunnel and into the tomb. Once inside, I scrambled to my feet and walked along the dimly-lit central corridor, inspecting the chambers where stone-age men and women laid their dead five thousand years ago. The little rooms were intact, with gently curving walls and neat shelves, carefully constructed from the flat granite stones that lay on the nearby seashore. The small, regular cells could have been built yesterday. Back outside, gulls and kittiwakes cried plaintively as they swooped along the steep cliff face that fell away below the burial site. At the foot of the cliff, grey seals turned lazily in the lapping waves of the North Sea and on the horizon loomed the northern coast of mainland Scotland, like a misty green whale floating on steely grey water. An Italian woman was loudly refusing to take the short but unorthodox journey into the tomb. “Are there bones inside?” she asked as I emerged from the narrow entrance. When I said that yes, you could see some skulls, she shuddered and turned away to sit on a cliff-top bench, leaving her two sons to negotiate their way in. The boys were delighted with the unexpected mode of transport. I made my way back to the Pictish house, a couple of fields away and a mere two thousand years old, where the farmer who discovered these remains would show me around. The ferry from John O’Groats, on the north coast of Scotland, had deposited me at the tiny harbour of St Margaret’s Hope after a one-hour crossing. I continued in my car to Kirkwall, Orkney’s capital, through a carpet of rolling lawns speckled with black-and-white cattle. It was a startling contrast to the wild, mountainous landscape of northern Scotland. The drive took me around the edge of the sheltered inlet of Scapa Flow, with sweeping views of sea, sky and distant islands – and straight into another extraordinary era of Orkney’s history, the two world wars. Huge concrete blocks support the causeways which link the islands surrounding this large natural marina. The causeways are in fact walls — the Churchill Barriers — built to protect Britain’s naval fleet that was based here during World War II. I was a little unnerved to see nothing but swelling waves on both sides of the car. Thankfully it was low tide as I drove slowly across the sea. Rusting hulks of long-wrecked ships were visible on either side of the causeways. Why were they still here? Then it dawned on me that these were the remains of the German Imperial Fleet, confined here at the end of World War I and scuttled by its crews in 1919. I soon discovered that Scapa Flow is a favourite destination for divers wishing to explore undersea wrecks. I would pass on that opportunity, however, and stick to places that could be investigated in greater comfort. I met up with my daughter Lizzie, who was working here at one of the ancient sites, outside St Magnus’ cathedral. The late afternoon sun lit up the rich red sandstone of the sturdy building that dates from the twelfth century and dominates the centre of Kirkwall. We wandered across a small patch of grass past a couple of trees, a rare sight in Orkney, and into the main shopping street. Flagstones paved the narrow, winding lane, but here was all the usual bustle of a town centre, with meandering tourists and Orcadians shopping purposefully. Cars and vans were forced to proceed at walking pace as they jostled for space with the pedestrians. We stopped for coffee in Lizzie’s favourite café, sinking into deep sofas where displays of pottery and hand-made bags hung from the walls, all for sale. Lizzie pointed out that many people were self-employed or had second jobs, often small craft businesses, as sidelines. One of her colleagues made and sold chocolates in addition to his office day job. My hotel was several miles beyond Kirkwall, nestling among fields in the parish of Stenness. I felt a great sense of calm in the soothing landscape, and I slept exceptionally well here. From my pleasant room I looked across strips of shining water and more bright fields dotted with cattle. Clouds raced past as gusts of rain alternated with bursts of sunshine, and a rainbow briefly coloured the grey sky. Pointing skywards from the land between the nearby sea loch of Stenness, and the freshwater loch of Harray beyond, were prehistoric standing stones: the three enormous Stones of Stenness and behind them the Ring of Brodgar.
We were joined by an Australian mother and daughter who had just visited the croft their family left a century ago. A young American and her English boyfriend were on their way to meet her cousins who lived on an outlying island. Sandra invited us to speculate about the original purpose of the stone circle. Probably religious and to do with ancestors, we suggested, but she reckoned it was also a festival ground. “After all, they lived in small communities and had to expand the gene pool somehow”. Was this atmospheric place really the hub of the clubbing scene five thousand years ago? “Forget Paris or Milan – five thousand years ago, Stenness was the cool place to be!” Our guide bubbled with enthusiasm. Possibly she thought it still was. We were inside Maeshowe, an intricate chambered tomb that had been precision engineered by Neolithic people and was possibly a central point in elaborate rituals. Vikings had sheltered here from a raging storm a thousand years ago, whiling away the time by carving on the walls, so giving us Britain’s finest collection of Norse runic writing. They displayed the deep thoughts of graffiti-writers everywhere. For example, “Haermund Hardaxe carved these letters”. Some of the letters were very high up; I could imagine the Vikings horsing around and climbing on each others’ shoulders to see how far up the wall they could reach as they waited for the howling wind outside to abate. Among many early and prehistoric sites in Orkney, the jewel had to be the village of Skara Brae. Together with the tomb at Maeshowe and the stone circles, it is a UNESCO World Heritage site, a recognition of its significance and uniqueness.
In the Skara Brae visitor centre I saw delicate bone necklaces and stone beads that were fashioned by the people who lived here, and jewellery-making remained one of Orkney’s distinctive industries. I had already wandered around many small shops in Kirkwall and gazed longingly at the works of local painters, potters, knitters and weavers as well as jewellery makers. The jewellery designers’ names and their work were familiar from big-city stores; wave motifs and subtle colours inspired by the land- and sea-scapes, shapes and patterns based on the designs of ancient artefacts.
I’d felt a real sense of connection in these unique
islands; with the people who lived here over thousands of years; with
the animals and birds who shared the shores; and with the landscape
that shaped lives. But I was sipping wine that tasted of the Mediterranean.
Rock music played in the background, interrupted by the low hoot of
the ferry as it arrived to disgorge more cars, lorries and tourists.
As I finished my crab salad I could think of no other place where the
ancient and the modern sat so easily and comfortably together as in
Orkney. |
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