Sun! – and the best weather of the year, I am later told. A humongous cruise ship is in the process of disgorging vast numbers of passengers. It is the perfect reason to hire a bike and escape the town.
I have in mind a puffin hotspot, Marwick Head, and set off west and north. The roads are empty, a joy to cycle along.
Unplanned, I fall on the internationally significantly Ness archaeological excavation. It is apparently 5 football pitches in scope but only 10% has been revealed in the 20-year period. Time is up (going any deeper would introduce massive new complexity) and 2024 will be the last year before the whole site is filled in, preserved once again from the Orcadian weather.
On to Brodgar Ring. I am in company with coach loads of cruisers, lapel-stickered with their coach numbers, but there is space for us all. And even the closure of the internal pathway to allow the turf to recover from the relentless pummelling of 10 zillion feet doesn’t mar my happiness. Zingy heather, blue sky, mysterious, beautiful monuments… yay…
I am uncertain about the mileage I will get from the battery of my unknown bike (yes, that old chestnut) but decide tentatively that Marwick is still realistic. I leave the bike by the beach and walk towards the observation tower built to commemorate WWI Minister for War, Lord Kitchener. He died onboard HMS Hampshire along with 736 men when the ship hit a mine just a few miles offshore from Marwick Head in 1916, en route to Russia.
But what is really interesting me is the cliff. Stiff with guillemots and – happy day! – a puffin or two, seen with the help of the binoculars of a couple of Dutch tourists.
I make the ride circular by returning along a more inland road. It is beginning to cloud over and there is that phenomenon whereby all directions feel like cycling into headwind whichever way one goes. My left knee is complaining and the last hour or so is a painful slog.
Back at the hostel the guy whose loud phone conversations and distasteful throat clearing had bugged me yesterday evening turns out to be a charming young man. Originally from India, he moved to Leicester as a young husband following his training as a pharmacist in Liverpool. “A big mistake but it’s over, I’m divorced and happy.” For the last five years he has spent three months annually working at Kirkwall Boots. And the rest of the time? Based in Leicester but travelling… all is vague. The massive pasta bake he gets out of the oven looks like him set for the week.
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