I'd already decided it would be too hard to spend another day on Orkney because I had a personal commitment to be in the Warrington area on Thursday night. I'd been enjoying the experience so much, I was tempted to try for an early ferry and do the journey in a single day. But I also felt I'd cheated myself out of a ride along the north-west coast of mainland Scotland. So instead, I'd already decided to spend the morning riding down to the southern tip of the island to St Margaret's Hope where another ferry company runs a vehicle catamaran to Gill's Head near John O'Groats.
My phone battery died around this time so I could not blog on the move any more or get weather forecasts.( I'm now writing this after the fact, also because I was straight back into the hurly burly when home).
The forecasts were grim though: hail, torrential rain and high winds throughout Scotland, moving West to East. No avoiding them then.
I got my tent and gear stowed just as the first big drops started to fall. Lucky. Then I made my way out of the Stromness camp ground around the town and out towards Kirkwall. The gusting wind was emphasized by the concentrations of rain sweeping across the road in front of me. Could this really be the same place as yesterday?
Trucks and buses bearing down towards me on the little A road created white eddies in the spray and sheets of rain as the came on. Ruby and I were pushed and pulled a meter side to side by the wind, judderingly buffetted by the wash of the other vehicles.
A tractor ahead, 10 mph and the rain hosing us down. Gloves leaking badly now. Two sponges rather than rain gear. Ruby rumbling along, unperturbed. I was purturbed. Clear road ahead, down two gears and leaping past staying as upright as possible to avoid wheelspin weaving. Past. Onward to Kirkwall. The lightning begins. Sheet lightning, flashing across the sky above us. It's twilight illumination at midday in July. Through Kirkwall, heading south now up a long long hill. Reach the top and it is now forked lightning. Brilliantly illuminated. Cracking down to my left at intervals. I've never seen anything like this before. And still the gusting wind and rain. But the intensity of the rain easing. And stops. The eye of the storm. Lightning left and right now. No hail yet. The wind is still strong but not gusting. Down the mountain. Rain again but lighter than before. Into St Margarets Hope. No ferry until 6pm. I'd misread the timetable. Typical me.
With four unexpected hours to spend, I ride further south to the tomb of the eagles. Managed to find a spot of charge in the phone for a couple of photos.
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| Looking back inland from the tomb site |
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| Burnt mound site. Sauna, probably. |
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| View from the tomb out over the north sea |
Another astonishingly old site, early bronze age'burnt mound! And burial chamber. Three mist and wind added to the ancient air of the place. The little museum is very cosy indeed with artefacts that are talked through and can be held. Such nice people running it.
Late pub lunch, on to the catamaran ferry with the rain finally peering out. Bike lashed down, ready to leave with the west coast road firmly in my mind. The ferry wad sure in at 7pm. It would be quite a erode to Ullapool but that was what I'd set my heart on.
I met a wonderful woman on the deck who was on the look out for orcas. Found myself talking and talking about life the universe and everything. I must have been a horrible bore. The journey was lovely, for the company, the wild life and the scenery.
I got my ride across the north coast, filling up in Thurso. About 150 miles of beauty beyond words.I'm not even going to try to explain the primordial splendour of that journey. I arrived in Ullapool at 11:30, exhausted from the concentration and wonder of it all. Tent up in 30 mins, for only for the oblivion of sleep.
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