Mainland & Shapinsay, Orkney
As the silent seas mirrored the colors of the sky, the sun crept into our awaken souls and drew our eyes toward the shore. The buildings of modern Kirkwall glimmered in the light, but a portion of the past loomed overhead. St. Magnus Cathedral dominated the view, wrapped in mist and mystique, forever reminding all who pass this way of the Vikings’ visits and those who came to stay. Gray fog carpeted low-lying valleys, perhaps to say that there is more to this place than meets the eye. "In Orkney, if you scratch the surface, it bleeds archaeology," or so it is said. Upon the old rises the new. Following the light of dawn we move from today into the world of long ago.
Those of us from the lands across the seas, from the "New World" have been ingrained with the idea that one hundred years is old. Today all of our ideas of time have been twisted askew. The sands of time may trickle on and tell us time is passing, but it was the wind-blown sand that saved the past for us to be transported to. As the hungry sea ate at the land, snatching it bit by bit, it met an ancient village site and started to uncover it. Man was shocked and cleared the rest to find evidence of an amazing life-style. Cleverly constructed, houses built of stone were nestled tight in earthen middens protected from gales and cold. Like a modern apartment house, individual units were connected by covered passageways. The interior decorator was a popular one for each home was furnished in identical fashion; a central hearth, a dominating dresser for display of prized possessions and beds on either side. Skara Brae seemed progressive enough in its ideas. There was a community hall or workshop and evidence of crops and livestock husbandry. Its age? Five thousand years!
Little by little we attempt to piece together the past from fragments found today. Some answers seem logical, but others continue to elude even the greatest scholars. Standing stones, great megalithic monuments like the Stones of Stenness and the Ring of Brodgar remain a mystery. As we stood among the purple blooming heather and marveled at the engineering feat to transport these giant slabs of rock from a quarry far away, we could only hypothesize as to the intent of the people that placed them there. Maes Howe too has a question mark shadowing its interpretation. It probably is a massive burial tomb. It most definitely was violated by Viking looters. But who was it for? Why does the sun slice its way down the narrow passage and hit the facing wall only on the winter solstice? Some things we may never know unless we truly can turn back the sands of time.
Balfour Castle is modern compared to the sites of the morning. But even it has attained one hundred and fifty some years. It stands majestically on the rolling hills of Shapinsay looking out to the main shipping channel. Iron otters guard the entryway and decorate the ceilings and the family crest. Tea and sweets enticed us in to explore this "calendar house" with seven turrets, 52 rooms, and 365 windows. But it was the gardens that fascinated many. Walls of perfect height for the dimensions of the field ensure a warm enough blanket of air to extend the growing season to nine months or more. Two dimensional apple trees are quite bizarre snuggling against the bricks to enjoy the solar gain. Some of us ventured further afield and strolled to the crest of the island in search of the resident and migratory birds, a taste of the wild in this long occupied land.
As the fog crept in across the sea and evening light approached, the soft sounds of Orcadian music drifted throughout the ship as if to gently escort the past away.
As the silent seas mirrored the colors of the sky, the sun crept into our awaken souls and drew our eyes toward the shore. The buildings of modern Kirkwall glimmered in the light, but a portion of the past loomed overhead. St. Magnus Cathedral dominated the view, wrapped in mist and mystique, forever reminding all who pass this way of the Vikings’ visits and those who came to stay. Gray fog carpeted low-lying valleys, perhaps to say that there is more to this place than meets the eye. "In Orkney, if you scratch the surface, it bleeds archaeology," or so it is said. Upon the old rises the new. Following the light of dawn we move from today into the world of long ago.
Those of us from the lands across the seas, from the "New World" have been ingrained with the idea that one hundred years is old. Today all of our ideas of time have been twisted askew. The sands of time may trickle on and tell us time is passing, but it was the wind-blown sand that saved the past for us to be transported to. As the hungry sea ate at the land, snatching it bit by bit, it met an ancient village site and started to uncover it. Man was shocked and cleared the rest to find evidence of an amazing life-style. Cleverly constructed, houses built of stone were nestled tight in earthen middens protected from gales and cold. Like a modern apartment house, individual units were connected by covered passageways. The interior decorator was a popular one for each home was furnished in identical fashion; a central hearth, a dominating dresser for display of prized possessions and beds on either side. Skara Brae seemed progressive enough in its ideas. There was a community hall or workshop and evidence of crops and livestock husbandry. Its age? Five thousand years!
Little by little we attempt to piece together the past from fragments found today. Some answers seem logical, but others continue to elude even the greatest scholars. Standing stones, great megalithic monuments like the Stones of Stenness and the Ring of Brodgar remain a mystery. As we stood among the purple blooming heather and marveled at the engineering feat to transport these giant slabs of rock from a quarry far away, we could only hypothesize as to the intent of the people that placed them there. Maes Howe too has a question mark shadowing its interpretation. It probably is a massive burial tomb. It most definitely was violated by Viking looters. But who was it for? Why does the sun slice its way down the narrow passage and hit the facing wall only on the winter solstice? Some things we may never know unless we truly can turn back the sands of time.
Balfour Castle is modern compared to the sites of the morning. But even it has attained one hundred and fifty some years. It stands majestically on the rolling hills of Shapinsay looking out to the main shipping channel. Iron otters guard the entryway and decorate the ceilings and the family crest. Tea and sweets enticed us in to explore this "calendar house" with seven turrets, 52 rooms, and 365 windows. But it was the gardens that fascinated many. Walls of perfect height for the dimensions of the field ensure a warm enough blanket of air to extend the growing season to nine months or more. Two dimensional apple trees are quite bizarre snuggling against the bricks to enjoy the solar gain. Some of us ventured further afield and strolled to the crest of the island in search of the resident and migratory birds, a taste of the wild in this long occupied land.
As the fog crept in across the sea and evening light approached, the soft sounds of Orcadian music drifted throughout the ship as if to gently escort the past away.
