Hello! I have some news I’m excited to share with you! If you have been following my blog over the last few months you’ll know what a massive, incredible journey I’ve been on recently. I have to admit I still haven’t quite got my head around what I just did but, at the risk of sounding cliché, it was life changing.
But here’s the thing. The walk was epic. No doubt about it. But what has been really incredible is the entire journey. And this is far more than just the physical 1,400 miles I just walked. It’s about everything that happened to bring me to the point of being able to even contemplate doing something like that, and everything that is still to come.
So many of you will know that I left my very respectable job in financial services not only to do this crazy walk but also because I felt a pull to do something more. And whilst I was doing the walk I realised more and more what that “more” was. I wanted to share some of my journey with you, to share some of the learnings, the experiences, the joy! So many of you commented on how on my walk I always seemed to be happy and smiling. That didn’t happen by chance! I want you to feel what I felt and I want you to feel inspired to explore your own journey (which doesn’t necessarily mean walking the entire length of the country…!).
But do you know what? There are plenty of little gremlins in my head (you get them too, right?) saying “who on earth are you, to think you can inspire and help people?” or “woah that’s too big and scary, just go back to normal life where it’s safe and comfortable”. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that there are ALWAYS going to be those little gremlins and it’s those little gremlins that keep us playing small. And I refuse to play small any more! And I want to help other people stop playing small too. I want you to believe, like I believe, that you are way stronger and more capable than you think. It’s true, I promise you! But even more than that, I want you to:
Rediscover and reconnect with that inner spark that you know is there but that gets buried in life’s “stuff”
Find the courage to rekindle that spark
Rediscover joy in your life, and to feel more alive
Now this stuff doesn’t just happen. In the midst of life’s chaos we rarely find the time or space or guidance to think about these things. Those things that, really, are so fundamental to us leading happy, fulfilling, alive lives. In order to change something we need to give ourselves the permission to take time out and create space so we can step back and take stock. And it doesn’t need to take a three and a half month trek to do that! It could be a day. It could be an hour. Even five minutes could make a difference. But can you remember the last time you actually took that time? How often do you let yourself just breathe and be? Can you remember the last time you laughed as you walked through crunchy autumn leaves, or toasted marshmallows on a campfire, or went jumping in puddles?
So where am I going with all this? Well, I am super excited to share with you that I have been creating a very special day for you in conjunction with my amazing coach Carrie. For those of you who don’t know Carrie, I have been working with her for the last couple of years and she has played a huge part in helping me move from where I was to where I am today. So I am thrilled that we are now working together, to offer you a delicious day away from the chaos of modern life. We’ll slow down to Nature’s pace for the day. We’ll walk, we’ll talk, we’ll listen, we’ll reflect. We’ll find some puddles to jump in and some leaves to crunch. We’ll even toast marshmallows on a campfire! But whatever else we do, the aim is for you to come away feeling rested, reconnected and re-energised.
Throughout the day you’ll have the support and guidance not only from me and Carrie but also the other amazing people who’ll share this experience with you. People who all want a little more from life. People who aren’t willing to sit in the shadows and say “one day” any more. People like you.
I am so passionate that you experience some of this. I am really excited by it and I can’t wait to share it with you!
So, what next? If this sounds like something you’d be interested in, whether that’s an “oh my goodness I HAVE to be there”, or just a little nudge that says “oh, that might be interesting”, get in touch. Drop me a message using the contact form on this page or send me a quick email at jlemarinel.lejog@gmail.com. Do it right now! Don’t go away and think about it because you’ll go away and forget (I know, I do it too!). You don’t need to commit at this stage, it’s purely to get some info.
I love you all, you’re amazing! Go and have a brilliant weekend and I look forward to seeing some of you soon 🙂
And so, I’m home. Back where it all started, where I first had the crazy idea to walk from Land’s End to John O’Groats on my own with everything I needed on my back. Back then it seemed like some bonkers pipe dream, a “wouldn’t-it-be-amazing-but-it-will-never-really-happen” type dream. But some invisible breeze fanned those embers, that little spark of a dream, into something bigger. Once upon a time I would have dismissed the idea as impossible, impractical, selfish, irresponsible, foolhardy, but something this time made me stand up and say “I can do this. I WILL do this!”
Writing it like that all sounds very grand and considered but in fact it was ridiculously simple when it came down to it. I knew I wanted to do something. I looked into several options but nothing seemed right. Then suddenly, there it was, Land’s End to John O’Groats. The entire length of Great Britain on foot. Just me. It clicked. Nothing else would do. It was so right that although I checked in briefly with a couple of my closest friends to check I hadn’t gone (completely) crazy, the decision was made. I immediately told everyone that was what I was doing, partly so I couldn’t back out (once the inevitable self-doubt and guilt factor kicked in) but also because I was so EXCITED by it. Yes it was big, yes it was sometimes stressful, but it was RIGHT. I only had to talk about my plans with someone to know I was doing exactly the right thing, I was in alignment, in flow, being true to myself, whatever you would call it.
Looking back now, I almost can’t remember some of the hard bits. The times I was getting stressed trying to plan supply drops, working out what I’d need at each stage, where I’d be sleeping, how on earth I’d promote my fundraising. They all seem like they were in another life, softened by the haze of time and joy. Even the harder days of the actual walk itself seem gentler around the edges, either being melted away by the laughter brought by the stories they created or imparting a huge sense of pride and strength from having survived them. I’m so grateful for my blog (and to you, my readers, for giving me the cause and the discipline to write it!) which I can dip back into and remember how I felt on a particular day, how at times it was tough and it times it was pure joy. Thankfully far more of the latter than the former. It is also quite reassuring to read when I need to convince myself it really did happen!
It is strange to be home. I thought, and was worried, that it might feel like I had never been away. But while some things don’t change, I have. It’s early days yet, and I’m contending with a massive energy slump (I have to keep reminding myself that having walked 1,400 miles carrying a pack weighing up to half my body weight, it is not unreasonable to feel a little tired for a while!), but I know that life is not going to be the same. It’s taking a little adjustment – it’s not easy to go from walking daily for hours on end in relative solitude, immersed in nature, through stunning countryside, to being back in one place (a noisy, crowded town at that), surrounded by people, sounds and smells that all make their overwhelming assault on my senses.
The first thing that struck me when I walked home from the train station was the air quality – or rather the lack of it. The air here is thick with fumes and cigarette smoke that I never really noticed before. Now it makes me want to cough with every inhalation and I’m scared to breathe too deeply. I miss the clean air of the hills! Thankfully I’m blessed that at home we have a garden that in turn backs onto a park. I love the garden. The first thing I did when I got home, rather than do some much-needed sorting out of my kit in the house, was to come straight outside and tidy the garden instead! I spent a couple of hours in the lovely afternoon sun tidying the autumn leaves and clearing the weeds that had taken over in my absence. At home it is the place I am happiest. Alas at first even in the garden the surrounding noises were overwhelming. I could sit outside and gaze at the trees, but I tried to block out the sounds of cars growling and motorbikes backfiring, the neighbour’s loud music or screaming children. Even the sound of children happily playing in the park felt like an added sensory challenge. But at least there were leaves, and birds, and plants and sky.
I had high hopes of taking myself off to the hills for a walk (or even just a sit) regularly once I got home. That hasn’t quite happened yet, as in addition to the one rather crucial issue of not having a car at the moment, I have felt too tired, which has been frustrating. My body just doesn’t want to do it! I feel exhausted, more so than I felt the entire time I was walking. My knees have finally decided to express their displeasure at the strain I put them through (I’m very glad they at least waited until now), my entire body is stiff and aching and I have had a near-permanent headache. I arrived home on a wave of excitement and energy, ready to get straight into doing everything, but now my body is saying no. It needs to properly rest. But I’m getting used to the idea now that I do just need to rest for a bit. The hills will be there when my body is ready again. And despite feeling pretty yucky part of me is glad. Because by being forced to stop, to rest, I am also being given time to process what I have achieved. Emotionally too, I need to be gentle with myself, and let the enormity of what I have done sink in.
Aches and pains and overwhelm aside, there are many wonderful things about being back at home. Like my housemate bringing me a cup of tea in the morning, cuddles with the cats and curling up on the sofa with a blanket knowing I don’t need to plan tomorrow’s walk. My iPad! My fluffy slippers and dressing gown and my Arbonne genius pads. Long soaks in a candlelit bath. My favourite pair of turquoise hareem trousers. My notebooks. A fridge full of food! There have also been moments in the first couple of days that made me smile wryly as they highlighted the difference between the life I’ve been living for the last few months and “normal” life. Like waking up on the first day of being back and having to decide what clothes to wear! Since July the only decision in that respect has been “which t-shirt is the cleanest?!” or perhaps “is it cold enough for my long-sleeve today?” And then, breakfast – so much choice! It’s crazy how difficult it can be to make a decision when faced with so many options, even for something as simple as what to eat. Part of me was tempted to avoid the decision and dig out my last dehydrated porridge sachet from my bag…(which, incidentally, I still haven’t fully unpacked!). I’m trying to wean myself (more or less) off sugar now I’m back, as I practically lived on it while I was walking. In fact, I’m more generally trying to wean myself off stuffing my face at every opportunity! It is strange to go from needing to eat anything and everything I could get my hands on to having more choice, more control (and more restraint!). I was SO excited to go to the supermarket and buy lots of healthy, wholesome food to cook. For a week and a half I was ravenously hungry the whole time. I wasn’t sure whether it was real hunger, habit or greed, but thankfully my appetite seems to have abated a little now. I’m quite surprised that I’ve actually found it easier than I expected to cut down on the sugary, calorific treats I had become accustomed to. I guess my body knows now that it doesn’t need it, and is instead craving nutritious and nourishing food. It’s clever how our bodies know what they need. Sometimes we just need to listen to them a little more closely…!
So where do I go from here? Well, I’m pleased to say there are exciting times ahead! I’ll share more detail about what that involves soon, but let’s just say that I’m working on ways of sharing the experience of my journey with as many other people as possible. And I mean the whole journey, not just the physical 1,400 miles of the last few months. This whole journey I’ve been on over the last few years. And I am SUPER excited! Watch this space for more news on that front soon.
This bloody town’s a bloody cuss
No bloody trains, no bloody bus
And no one cares for bloody us
In bloody Orkney.
The bloody roads are bloody bad
The bloody folks are bloody mad
They’d make the brightest bloody sad In bloody Orkney.
Oh bloody clouds, and bloody rains
No bloody kerbs, no bloody drains The Council’s got no bloody brains
In bloody Orkney.
Everything’s so bloody dear
A bloody bob, for a bloody beer And is it good? no bloody fear
In bloody Orkney.
No bloody sport, no bloody games
No bloody fun, the bloody dames Won’t even give their bloody names
In bloody Orkney.
Best bloody place is bloody bed With bloody ice on bloody head
You might as well be bloody dead
In bloody Orkney.
Well, I have to say that whilst it makes me chuckle, I think it’s a little harsh! I loved Orkney! Yes, it’s a little remote, a little bleak, but it is also incredibly beautiful, fascinating and friendly.
As you’ll know if you’ve been reading my blog for a while, I took the decision to take a little trip to Orkney once I reached John O’Groats. I knew that going home too quickly would be a little too much of a shock to the system, and it seemed a crime to be so close to these intriguing islands and not pop across to explore. My plan was to do a mixture of sightseeing (Orkney is famous for its history, right through from the Neolithic to Viking to World War periods) and relaxing, so I’d planned a day on the mainland at either side of my trip and then three nights on one of the most north-easterly of the islands, Sanday, to rest, read, write and take walks along its famous beaches. Definitely needed!
The ferry to St. Margaret’s Hope only took an hour and I had the company of Paul, my lovely next door neighbour who was one of the crazy friends who drove up to meet me at John O’Groats. It was really nice to have the company, it helped to have someone to babble away at! I’m not sure how many times he had to put up with me shaking my head in amazement and saying “I can’t believe I did that”, but he was very patient! It was also great to have someone to share the first few tastes of Orkney life with. Walking (yes, walking…!) from the ferry towards the little village we were staying in that night, only about half a mile, a friendly man pulled up and offered us a lift. For the first time in the entire journey I could say yes!!
When we reached our home for the night – a quaint little pub – we were shown to our simple rooms and then headed down to the quiet restaurant. There was only one other pair eating there but the bar itself was pleasantly busy with locals and I got a sense of the community spirit that still exists here but has been lost in so many village pubs back home. Once again I was glad that Paul was with me so I wasn’t drinking my celebratory glass of wine alone! The friendly waitress came over and apologised that the chef had gone home sick but that if we wanted food (er, yes!) there were a few dishes she could make herself. Thankfully, we both fancied something simple, so it worked out perfectly (and I think she gave us extra large portions, judging by the size!) and I have to admit the wine went down very well. After the buzz of the day I went to bed exhausted, still not believing that my walk had come to an end.
The next morning we were down at breakfast at the specified time, to find the lights off and nobody around. Our table was laid and the cereals etc were out, but no milk, butter etc. Once again very pleased to have each other’s company, we wondered if we had been forgotten, then Paul suggested that maybe the chef was still off sick. Ahh, that would be it! Ever enterprising, and figuring that they wouldn’t mind (they seem quite relaxed, these Orkney folk) we headed into the kitchen and helped ourselves to milk, butter and the kettle. I made tea, Paul made toast, and sitting down to our breakfast we chuckled about having to survive in “the wild”. And then, to our slight embarrassment, in walks the owner, ready to make our breakfast! Oops! We sheepishly admitted we’d helped ourselves, and I couldn’t decipher whether she was half amused, pleased, surprised or just still half asleep! Either way, she cooked me some lovely scrambled eggs which complemented my makeshift breakfast perfectly.
We headed out to catch the bus to Kirkwall, the main town on Orkney. Oh, one thing I learned very quickly, it is most definitely “Orkney”, not “The Orkneys”. That’s one way to get a glare from a true Orcadian! Well, maybe not a glare. Perhaps a mildly exasperated but patient sigh… I still haven’t worked out whether you are “in” Orkney or “on” Orkney though… Anyway, there is a surprisingly good bus service in/on Orkney. The buses are frequent, clean, efficient and, the best thing, they tie up with other forms of public transport! The buses actually meet the ferries. I swear the rest of the country could learn something from them! The other thing I love is that you can hail a bus from anywhere, as long as it’s safe (except in Kirkwall where there are designated bus stops). You just stand by the road and wave! Our chosen bus-waving spot was just by the bay and we gazed out over the perfectly calm water, breathing in the beautifully fresh, clean air. A storm was supposed to hit later but right now, amidst this stillness, it was hard to imagine!
The calm before the storm?
The journey to Kirkwall was probably the most scenic 30 minute bus trip I have ever taken. Sea every which way, little beaches and the outline of other islands and the hills of Hoy on the horizon. The island of South Ronaldsay (where we stayed the previous night) is linked to mainland Orkney (and a couple of tiny islands in between) by four causeways built at Churchill’s command during the war, to prevent German submarines entering Scapa Flow where the British naval fleet was based. The causeways now provide a very useful road transport link!
Arriving into Kirkwall we were surprised at how big it was. Part of me had expected a small-ish town and although it certainly wasn’t massive, it was definitely much more than a couple of houses, a ferry terminal and a corner shop! I was first struck by the exciting-looking new hospital being built on the edge of town (coolly doughnut-shaped) and then by the big Tesco and Lidl stores side by side near the bus station. But the best bit for us was wandering around the stunning cathedral, the ruined Bishop’s and Earl’s palaces and the fascinating Orkney Museum which was a treasure trove of artefacts and information right back from Neolithic times (c.5000 years ago) through to the modern day. We were so absorbed we nearly lost track of time and suddenly realised we didn’t have long before our respective ferries were due! Paul was heading back to mainland Scotland and I was headed to Sanday, an hour and a half’s ferry ride away.
St. Magnus Cathedral in KirkwallThe Earl’s Palace
I was relieved that the ferry was still running – Ex-Ophelia (the remains of the hurricane headed over from the US) was due to pass through later in the evening and there was a possibility some of the sailings might have been cancelled or brought forward. I was also glad I wasn’t going to be camping through the storm! The ferry pulled out of Kirkwall just before 3:30pm but already the sky seemed to be darkening, the automatic street lights flickering on. I knew we were fairly far north but it seemed a little early for night to be falling! It soon became apparent that it wasn’t nightfall – the eerie dusky-grey-yellow haze in the sky was the brewing of a brilliant storm. The colour was down to the hurricane blowing Saharan sand up into the atmosphere, but the whole sky and air had a feeling of bated breath, anticipation, the build up of Nature’s energy.
As the ferry pulled into the dock and I jumped onto the Sanday bus (a community-run minibus/taxi service) the five wind turbines on the south-eastern end of the island loomed out of the moody sky, tall, graceful, stark. A vital source of energy for the island, which although connected to the National Grid, sells electricity back to it! There were a couple of other islanders on the bus and I was the last to be dropped off so I had quite a tour of the island. It is only 16 miles long, and narrow, with a bit sticking out which makes it look like a chunky, upside down T on the map. The bus driver acted as my guide, pointing out some of the interesting features we passed, including the huge sand dunes at Cata Sand and the main village, Lady, with its community centre, heritage centre and shop. Across the flat, open space of the island, and its countless beaches and rolling surf, the sky was glorious, and it wasn’t long before the storm broke. Retina-burningly bright flashes of lightning lit the sky, followed by the searing crack of thunder and its growling rumble fading away into the distance. The air was perfectly, breath-holding-ly still in between flashes but as we watched out for the next we could all feel the quiver of energy, the anticipation and excitement that comes with such a storm. I made it to my home for the next three nights just before the rain came. Proper, stormy rain. The type of rain that falls in heavy sheets and makes you call any other rain shower you’ve experienced in the past a mere drizzle. The type of rain that is made for curling up on the sofa with a cup of tea while you listen to it pounding out its tune on the roof. And then came the wind. Gusting, gale force winds, throwing the rain in hellbent splatters at the window. I hugged my tea a little closer and once again thanked goodness that I wasn’t camping!
Leaving Kirkwall as the storm begins to brewOne of Sanday’s turbines against a broody sky
The next three days were spent pretty much as I had planned. I had lie-ins and drank tea in bed while writing and brainstorming about what I’d learned from my journey, what I was going to do when I got home, where I wanted to focus my business. I went for gentle strolls along the beach and noticed how it changed each day and in different light. The first morning the winds made it hard to stand, to walk, to breathe. The sea was whipped up into a boiling frenzy of waves and foam, the only real visual indication of the wind’s force given the absence of trees (they were all cut down for wood thousands of years ago and never replanted), and the few birds who braved the ex-hurricane fought to fly in a straight line. It was exhilarating! I had wrapped up in multiple layers, hats and gloves and was toasty warm but the wind made my eyes and nose stream. I walked around the bay and up to a cairn on a little peninsula where the tumultuous sea spread out all around me, the waves from the east crashing on rocks below, the water in the bay behind me slightly more sheltered. The water of the loch behind the house was choppy but provided some shelter for ducks, sea birds and swans. All around was space. A handful of buildings huddled down against the weather, small farms dotted around the landscape, but all else was just water, land and sky. It was wild and glorious! I had only walked about half a mile, the weather and my tired legs deterred me from going too far, but I didn’t need to. Wilderness and space was right here on the doorstep! As I retraced my steps to the house a few seals popped their heads up out of the water, curiosity beating their desire to shelter out of the storm down below the waves. Orkney has 15% of the world’s population of grey seals and a large number of them make their home on Sanday’s beaches. They’d even had their first seal pup of the season just before I arrived. Jo my host showed it to me, fluffy and white, on the Sanday seal cam.
The bay just outside the door!Sunset after the storm
My hosts were very generous and as I didn’t have a car with me they took me on a tour of the island and ran me to the two shops on the island to pick up some food. These shops were awesome! Considering how small they were they had absolutely everything you could need. They even had a decent selection of gluten free items and dairy free milk! Jeff was explaining that the shops basically stocked whatever people wanted and anything they didn’t stock they could usually get hold of. Sometimes you just needed to be a bit organised and remember to ask for it a few days in advance (something most of us don’t do much of these days, with everything on demand). But then life here is much slower, much more laid back, and time isn’t so much of an issue. What did surprise me at first was that Jo and Jeff have only been back to the mainland twice in the four years they’ve been living in Orkney. Once for Jo’s daughter’s wedding and once for a hospital appointment in Aberdeen (a three day round trip for one appointment!). They even don’t go over to mainland Orkney all that often, as they can get hold of pretty much everything they need on Sanday, and even a trip to Kirkwall involves carefully planning around the two ferries a day and often can result in needing to spend a night “in town”. At first I thought this must leave them feeling incredibly isolated, but it’s actually the opposite. The islanders are friendly and involved. They all chip in, they all help each other out. There is a thriving school and lots of community activities. I expected an island with a population of 500 to be insular, old fashioned, sleepy, but although it is certainly quiet and peaceful (don’t go there if you’re looking for a Chinese takeout or a cinema etc), and it is old fashioned in its values and behaviour (nobody locks their door and keys are left in car ignitions because the ferry owners would immediately notice if a stranger was driving somebody else’s car), it was incredibly open, welcoming, and progressive. My hosts’ next door neighbour recently married his boyfriend and they are both going to be living on the island. Amazing! Other random facts include drivers not needing a drivers licence on the island – they can drive on a provisional licence indefinitely provided they don’t leave the island, and similarly cars don’t need at MOT, because there isn’t a garage to test them!
Sadly not all the islands are thriving quite so much. I didn’t visit any others (it’s quite an epic and logistically challenging trip to island hop unless you take the plane) but I learned in particular of little North Ronaldsay, the most northerly of the islands (and famous for its seaweed-eating sheep!), which has a population of just 65 and their last child just left school. But I really hope Sanday continues to thrive as it is a beautiful place. I don’t feel I really did its beaches, nature or history justice, but it definitely gave me what I needed – peace, space and time to relax and think.
All too soon it was time to return to mainland Orkney and the minibus and ferry journey was repeated in reverse. I loved listening to the thick Orcadian accents of the locals chatting on the bus. I had to really listen hard to understand what they were saying, especially as they kindly included me in their conversation! The light was fading as the bus dropped down the only hill on Sanday towards the ferry dock, just as the ferry was approaching the island, its lights shining brightly out of the dusky gloom. Once on the ferry I watched Sanday slowly shrink and disappear into the twilight until only the froth-topped waves trailing behind the ship were visible. The trip back to Kirkwall took a little longer than the outward journey as this time the ferry stopped off at Eday, another of Orkney’s islands, dropping off and picking up a handful of passengers and cars.
It felt strange to be back in Kirkwall again, I guess on reflection it’s the only place on this trip that I’ve actually returned to. It also seemed quite big and bustling after the peace of Sanday. I had to remind myself I was still on a relatively remote island! The supermarkets were useful but seemed excessive in their stock – after all, those little island shops had pretty much everything anyone needed, so what else was filling all these shelves?! The choice was almost overwhelming, but I picked up a few things to cook for dinner and to eat for lunch the next day and escaped as quickly as I could. I was fortunate to have a room to myself at the hostel but there were some people in the living room who were nice to chat to, and I realised that this was effectively the last night of my trip before I started heading home, which was a weird realisation! I had one day left of exploring the island and then it was the night ferry to Aberdeen and then gradually making the homeward trip from there.
For my last day I had decided to hire a car so I could explore properly (public transport is brilliant for getting around the island but not for sightseeing). I suddenly realised when I sat in the car that I hadn’t driven for nearly 4 months…eek! Thankfully it really is like riding a bike and the roads are quiet and decent, so I quickly relaxed and enjoyed the new form of transport. It was quite refreshing to be able to pootle about and not have to think about carrying all my stuff, or how far anything was! Even so, there is a huge amount to see on such a tiny island and I had to choose my sights carefully. I settled on heading to the Stones of Stenness, the Ring of Brodgar (both incredible Stone Age standing stone circles, pre-dating Stonehenge), Scara Brae (Orkney’s most famous site, an incredibly well-preserved stone-age village), Mar Wick (a beautiful bay full of sea birds and a prominent headland), and Maeshowe (a spectacular chambered cairn).
A new mode of transport…Rainy rainy day
All were fascinating. Only a handful of stones remain at Stenness but they are huge and intriguing. The Ring of Brodgar, just up the road, is much more complete and stands on a slight rise overlooking two lochs and the hills in the distance. It is incredible to think that these enormous stones were erected 5000 years ago. To think that there were organised communities living all that time ago. Living, working, farming, socialising, worshipping. And yet we only know fragments about their lives. I suppose it is remarkable just how much we do know, but so much has to be left to the imagination. Scara Brae gives us more of an idea. It is a village of houses built out of stone partially (and purposefully) buried in earth mounds, joined together by narrow passageways. The village was only discovered in the 19th century when a massive storm blew away the sand that had covered the village for thousands of years. The village itself is tiny but there is a fascinating exhibition explaining what is known about the village and the people who lived there, with artefacts discovered during the excavations such as whale bone jewellery, cattle bone and stone tools, crude pots and flint arrowheads. There is a reconstruction of what a complete house would have been like that you can walk into. I was blown away, and still can’t get my head around that there were people living in peace and civilisation all that time ago. What on earth happened in the thousands of years in between?!
The fascinating Ring of BrodgarExhibition at Scara BraeScara Brae
After a brief trip to sleepy Stromness, the second town on the mainland (which was very beautiful and I wish I’d had more time to explore), my final visit of my day was to Maeshowe, a magnificent chambered cairn. Visits are by guided tour only but I was the only person on my tour (one of the benefits of visiting in shoulder season!) so I had the knowledgable guide, and the chamber, all to myself. From the outside it just looks like a big grassy mound, with sheep nonchalantly grazing on and around it, unaware of the historical and anthropological significance of the ground beneath their feet. The entrance to the main chamber is through a long, low and narrow entrance “hallway”, and you need to crouch right down to walk along it. The main chamber itself is very tall, cathedral like, but not large. Massive stone pillars form the corners but they are not thought to be structurally important (one theory is that they were erected before the cairn itself was built) and there are three small chambers off the main chamber. The purpose of the cairn is a mystery but it is thought that it had some relevance to worship and was potentially (but probably not exclusively) used for burials. Its position is significant – at sunset on the winter equinox the sun shines directly up the entrance passage and lights up the wall of the back chamber. But perhaps the most fascinating thing to see in the cairn comes from a later period in history. Sometime in the 12th century Vikings broke into the cairn and sheltered there from a fierce snow storm for 3 days. The graffiti they carved into the walls is the largest collection of Viking runes outside of Scandinavia, and it’s fascinating! Most of them say something mundane along the lines of “Frank carved these runes” (the Viking equivalent of “Frank was here”), but the inscriptions give an indication of the pride the vikings (both male and female) took in their rune carving. One boasted that “the finest rune carver west of the sea carved these runes”!
The waterfront at Stromness
I headed back to Kirkwall feeling that I’d barely scratched the surface of this fascinating island but so glad that I had come at all. It was a satisfying end to the trip and the sky treated me to a beautiful sunset to round the day off. I sat by a little lake, “the Peerie Sea”, in Kirkwall as the light faded from the sky and was replaced by the orange glow of street lights. I was sad to be leaving, but it seemed right too. I felt ready to start the journey home.
Night falls over Kirkwall. A beautiful view to finish off my trip!
