At the Edge of the Earth

Taylor and I have a chill day ahead of us. We only have one activity booked and then have the rest of the day to explore. Just before ten o'clock, we walk down the hill into the village and take a tour of the Bishop's and Earl's Palaces. The Bishop's Palace was built in the 1100s and is a small but impressive medieval ruin. We enjoy all of its rooms, and then head across the street to the Earl's Palace, built in the 1600s. It is much larger and takes us a while to get through, but we have fun doing it. We basically have both palaces to ourselves this morning, as there are only a couple of other tourists milling about.

The narrow courtyard of Bishop's Palace

The unusual exterior of Earl's Palace

Earl's Palace

Next we cross the street and enter the St. Magnus Cathedral church grounds. The cathedral is surrounded by a dense cemetery, packed tight with headstones dating mostly from the 1800s. The battering sea air has not been kind and many of the stones are worn and very tilted or broken, but it gives the cemetery a run-down sort of spooky appeal. We circle around back of the cathedral and then attempt to enter the front, but a girls' dance troupe has set up a mat there and is doing a choreography to The Proclaimers's "I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)". It's not very good at all. We wait politely for them to finish so that we can get in the door.

St. Magnus Cathedral and cemetery in the morning sunlight

The cathedral is narrow and tall, built with dark brown stone, and the sun is just starting to shine through the stained glass. The perimeter is lined with tombs, all of which bear skull and crossbones carvings, which I think is bitchin'. We take a few photos and I check out the choir stalls and wish I could sing a mass there.

Saint Olaf treading on a... dragon?

All of the tombs have a skull and crossbones

Looking into the choir stalls

We exit back onto a now bustling Albert St., the main drag of shops that has been, up until now, mostly closed when we've visited. Today we join the sudden crowd of tourists in milling about the shops, looking for local specialties to take home. There is also a farmer's market happening in the Mason Hall, so we go check it out. There are only six tables of wares set up, mostly with local food products. I spot the largest, most pristine heads of broccoli I've ever seen in my life, and ask the farmer how she has managed to produce them. As always, when one gardener asks such things of another, the answer is unsatisfying. She's just lucky, she guesses. The plants decided they liked the environment and are thriving, and they don't have much trouble in the way of pests.

We walk back up to the apartment to eat sandwiches and recombobulate, then set out in the car for Yesnaby. We've seen a picture of some striking cliffs on a tourist map and have decided to go see if we can find them. We don't actually find the place we saw on the map, but what we do find is incredible anyway. We drive right up to the edge of the world, where Orkney drops off sharply into the violent North Sea. The briny wind whips our coats around us, and we bundle up to endure the harsh environment. We carefully approach the unguarded cliff edges to see the sea thrashing the sharp rocks below. Falling here would mean death, and it wouldn't be hard to stumble. The rocks are mostly flat, but jagged, broken, and tilted toward the sea. There are plenty of places to trip up if you're not careful.

Heed the warning

Taylor scaring the shit out of me

We walked out to right-most cliff in the distance

Nearby, but not as nearby as we think, some intentional-looking piles of rock sit atop a promontory. It looks like a worthy climbing goal, so we follow a grassy path in that direction. It's not a terribly steep or difficult climb but it's steady and taxing. When we get to the top, the world opens wide in all directions. The sun is shining on the sea before us and on the green fields behind us. To either side, the dramatic cliffs cut into the splashing waves. I approach the edge, find a soft grassy spot, and lie down flat on my back, arms and legs spread like a snow angel. The sun warms my body and I breathe deeply and just take it all in for a moment. When I'm ready to move on, I collect a small stone to carry a bit of this moment with me.

Taylor photographs me across a chasm

I photograph him standing in an absolutely insane place again

Throughout this trip, as Taylor and I have been taking in the scenery and have been unable to cope with how magnificent it is, we have sarcastically declared it, "disgusting", "awful", "worst place I've ever seen," etc. This location was no different, although we had to find our moments in between speechless awe and sighs.

We descend back down the promontory and find a place we can actually get down into an inlet where land safely (more or less) meets the sea. Taylor carefully picks his way along the seaweed-slick rocks and disappears around the side of the cliff. I attempt to follow, but nearly end up in the splits with my first step, so I decide to hang back and check out the plants and creatures further up the beach where the footing is slightly better. I inspect lots of new (to me) plants, bivalves stuck to rocks, and a couple of dead seabirds that have washed up in a bundle of stray fishing net. When Taylor returns from his exploration, we climb back onto the grassy path and return to the car.

Taylor walks out to sea

Our next stop is Marwick Head, a nature reserve about 20 minutes north of Yesnaby, and supposedly good for bird- and whale-watching. We explore some tide pools on the rocky beach, finding mostly barnacles, snails, and seaweed, plus a couple large pieces of shipwreck, and then start climbing another promontory. We get about halfway up and the wind really starts to push us around. We're quite tired by now and don't feel like we'll miss anything if we don't go all the way up. We've seen no whales and the only birds we've seen are just the usual suspects, like seagulls. We do see one rabbit though, and a herd of cows that start mooing and running when they realize the farmer is coming to feed them.

Exploring the tide pools in the alien landscape of Marwick Head

The geometry of the universe

On our way out of Marwick Head, we're excited to see we'll be passing through Twatt, a hilariously named village. We decide to use it as a photo op, but as we arrive, we realize there's not a single sign to be found indicating that one is actually in Twatt. It's a village you'll miss if you blink, really just a few houses, a telephone booth, and a mailbox. I'm guessing they once had signs but that they are so frequently stolen that they just haven't bothered to replace them. Or maybe they're just trying to fly under the radar so as not to attract unsavory tourist attention. Since there's really nothing to do here, we just travel on down the road. You'll just have to take our word for it that we were there.

I've been trying to call a restaurant in Kirkwall to get us a reservation, but no one will answer. I've noticed here that when businesses are overwhelmed, they don't even bother answering the phone to disappoint you about your prospects of getting in. They just pretend they're not there. And it seems like many businesses here are struggling to cope with what looks to me like sub-normal traffic. I know we're just outside of Stromness, so I quickly google restaurants there and find an excellent one specializing in seafood. That's exactly what we want, so I call them and am able to get us seated immediately. We have a great, fresh Korean-inspired meal of lobster, ling, and seafood dumplings in a warming broth.

It has been a beautiful day and one that I will not soon forget.