Orkney
Here they say “if you scratch the surface of Orkney, it bleeds archaeology”. That may be true but if you sweep the covering clean, remove all signs of humanity and scour away the soil, you find the reason mankind was here at all. Red sandstone made this land. It is the foundation upon which we walked today. For six thousand years or more man has quarried into its heart, each blood red block destined for a purpose.
The story started long, long ago and far away. So long ago it is hard to fathom the meaning of those 400 million years. As lithospheric plates realigned like boats drifting upon an ocean, newly formed mountain chains moved across the equator. Erosional forces tore them down, rivers scattering their remains, neatly stacking the mineral grains in perfectly parallel layers.
Heavy clouds weighed upon the land early this morning. Their misty fringes tickled the cliffs and met the crashing waves. Through this filmy veil the rufous escarpment of western Hoy revealed its sedimentary origin. Standing alone, his feet washed by the surf, the Old Man of Hoy, a solitary rocky pillar, seemed to wear a waistcoat of green. We greeted him and passed on by, bound for Stromness Harbour.
Mainland, the main island of the Orkney archipelago hosted us this morning. Verdant meadows carpeted rolling hills that rose from numerous lochs. Miles of fencerows, all alike, with horizontal blocks capped by vertical rows, defined our route and confined the stock. We stepped back in time six thousand years to Neolithic times, to the excavated homes at Skara Brae. Here sturdy houses, burrowed into middens of daily life, were all solidly constructed of flat flagstone and furnished in sandstone too. There was little innovation in design from one family’s dwelling to the next, at least in the basic furnishings. Slabs defined beds and fire pits and each had a prominent “dresser”. It was here that individuality might have come into play as they displayed their treasured possessions. Not far away gigantic wedges stood in silent array at the Ring of Brodgar and the Standing Stones of Stenness and served as the building blocks of the ancient tomb of Maes Howe. St. Magnus Cathedral in Kirkwall, opened its doors to us and we stood surrounded by geology and history.
Nearby Shapinsay rested upon the red sandstone too but here it was less obvious. Or maybe we were too distracted by the foresightedness of the original inhabitants of the Balfour Estate and the passion shown for it by its current owners. Tea was served in the elegant dining room of the Castle amidst fine and intricately carved furnishings and woodwork. We wandered from room to room examining the collections. Outside bluebells carpeted the woodland floor and here the treasure lay for Orkney is almost completely devoid of trees. Determination, persistence and knowledge of the vagaries of the wind and the sea, allowed a forest to be planted and to survive for more than 150 years. The secret: plant double density around the periphery allowing for loss due to desiccating salt encrustation. Victorian walled gardens already hosted two-foot tall rhubarb and the beginnings of a new year’s vegetable crop. Vegetation grows well in these microclimates created by perfectly planned stonewalls. Stone, the building block of civilization here in northern Scotland.
Here they say “if you scratch the surface of Orkney, it bleeds archaeology”. That may be true but if you sweep the covering clean, remove all signs of humanity and scour away the soil, you find the reason mankind was here at all. Red sandstone made this land. It is the foundation upon which we walked today. For six thousand years or more man has quarried into its heart, each blood red block destined for a purpose.
The story started long, long ago and far away. So long ago it is hard to fathom the meaning of those 400 million years. As lithospheric plates realigned like boats drifting upon an ocean, newly formed mountain chains moved across the equator. Erosional forces tore them down, rivers scattering their remains, neatly stacking the mineral grains in perfectly parallel layers.
Heavy clouds weighed upon the land early this morning. Their misty fringes tickled the cliffs and met the crashing waves. Through this filmy veil the rufous escarpment of western Hoy revealed its sedimentary origin. Standing alone, his feet washed by the surf, the Old Man of Hoy, a solitary rocky pillar, seemed to wear a waistcoat of green. We greeted him and passed on by, bound for Stromness Harbour.
Mainland, the main island of the Orkney archipelago hosted us this morning. Verdant meadows carpeted rolling hills that rose from numerous lochs. Miles of fencerows, all alike, with horizontal blocks capped by vertical rows, defined our route and confined the stock. We stepped back in time six thousand years to Neolithic times, to the excavated homes at Skara Brae. Here sturdy houses, burrowed into middens of daily life, were all solidly constructed of flat flagstone and furnished in sandstone too. There was little innovation in design from one family’s dwelling to the next, at least in the basic furnishings. Slabs defined beds and fire pits and each had a prominent “dresser”. It was here that individuality might have come into play as they displayed their treasured possessions. Not far away gigantic wedges stood in silent array at the Ring of Brodgar and the Standing Stones of Stenness and served as the building blocks of the ancient tomb of Maes Howe. St. Magnus Cathedral in Kirkwall, opened its doors to us and we stood surrounded by geology and history.
Nearby Shapinsay rested upon the red sandstone too but here it was less obvious. Or maybe we were too distracted by the foresightedness of the original inhabitants of the Balfour Estate and the passion shown for it by its current owners. Tea was served in the elegant dining room of the Castle amidst fine and intricately carved furnishings and woodwork. We wandered from room to room examining the collections. Outside bluebells carpeted the woodland floor and here the treasure lay for Orkney is almost completely devoid of trees. Determination, persistence and knowledge of the vagaries of the wind and the sea, allowed a forest to be planted and to survive for more than 150 years. The secret: plant double density around the periphery allowing for loss due to desiccating salt encrustation. Victorian walled gardens already hosted two-foot tall rhubarb and the beginnings of a new year’s vegetable crop. Vegetation grows well in these microclimates created by perfectly planned stonewalls. Stone, the building block of civilization here in northern Scotland.
