Orkney '11

There I am. Reflected in some mucky water underneath the cattle grid maybe a mile outside of Lochinver. It didn't take awfully long before I got distracted from my main priority of trying to hitch a ride. I was hoping to get to Orkney within a couple of days, hoping that there would be enough cars on the road to get there.

As I wandered around the remnants of old roads (for some reason with twice as many bends as any road these days) I was struck by a thought: if I was stuck underneath some tarmac, I wouldn't be able to grow through it. You have to entertain your brain with thoughts like these when you're walking for long distances.. or maybe that's just me.

Being of the easily amused type, I found the fact that someone had scratched happy and sad faces on the falling rocks on this sign photo-worthy.

I was hit by a strangely rotten smell after a few miles walking. I thought it must have been a stagnant bog or such, however the truth was entirely more rotten. I think it was the mix of the rotting flesh and the fecal matter still inside this poor deer's belly that was the most unbearable thing; maybe I could have taken one or the other for a few moments but both at once was a bit too much. So I took my photo and ran away. I hoped the carcass wasn't an omen for the trip to come.

I'm certain that no one will disagree that this rock is in fact a solidified giant alien's face. I don't really have anything else to say about it.

I just liked this rock face. I don't think it has anything to do with aliens, unless it happens to be the back of an alien's head, his belly or some other featureless patch of solidified alien skin.

One thing I certainly noticed on my trip is the unbelievable amount of old tat that is lying around everywhere. From boat trailers to whole cars or whatever, it sometimes makes for a decent photograph but apart from that it's not exactly complimentary to any landscape. Unless you're in Durness.

I managed to get a few lifts from various nice folk. Strangely almost all had used to hitch-hike quite often. I'm not sure if that is because a lot more people used to hitch-hike in the past or if the type of person who would pick up a hitch-hiker would have been one themself. Anyway almost all said that used to do it until they learnt to drive. I think maybe there is a hint in there somewhere.

So I arrived at Durness much earlier than I expected and had time to kill. So I wandered around looking for a place to set up my tent for quite a while. Althought there were many suitable places I felt reluctant to pitch anywhere, probably because of the overwhelming bleakness of the place, so I kept on wandering and took some photos of various bits of junk lying around.

After my junk hunt I set up camp just up from the beach. This being the first time setting up the tent it it took a little longer than it should have in the stinkingly wet weather and put me in an exceptionally foul mood with Durness. Although the beach is fantastic, it doesn't really matter when you're cold and wet and in a sleeping bag by 7PM. I didn't really think much before I set out on the trip how early I'd have to pitch my tent. So I wrote some notes on how much I hated Durness, which was partly exaggerated due to the situation but I will probably keep those feelings for a while. I slept and stared at the roof of my cramped tent for around 12 hours, eagerly waiting for sunrise.

It turned out to be a fairly dreary morning but hooray I was moving on. On my way I went and had a wee visit to Smoo Cave and cooked some breakfast. I felt ultimately happier with warm food in my belly and had some company too as a fellow traveller happened to be having a look in the cave as I was munching away.

He said he had a motorhome and might be heading over to Thurso as the weather was looking better on the East coast so I remained as friendly as possible. But he was visiting some other places first so I thought it doubtful and headed off on what turned out to be a pretty lengthy journey.

I walked for many hours and many miles in the blasting wind. There wasn't a lot to take photos of out there really. This horse (almost looking like it is leaning against the wind) probably didn't know what a person was anymore; it seemed to look at me with the confusion similar to that of the expresions of people's faces when I told them I was going to Orkney in February.

I'm not sure how productive this fence is anymore.

So after hours of walking and numerous letdowns of either passing cars not stopping or the ones that did only going a few yards further than I was, a motorhome slowed down and peeped its horn. It was the guy from Smoo Cave and he had decided to head to Thurso after all. Without saying a word he made me realise how much better camping would be if you have a motorhome. He had a flat screen tele with a satellite that automatically wheeled around and found the best signal for satellite channels, a sea kayak on the roof, a motorbike on the back and a pushbike tucked in behind it. With these various contraptions he could pretty much travel anywhere and see any place he wanted. It made me think I'm not going camping again until I have one. Anyway, he had been travelling around Scotland for quite a while and climbing lots of mountains ("I'm not into that Munro bagging crap" he said) and was getting very excited to drive over a piece of road he had never been before when we went past the turnoff for Helmsdale. However his excitement soon faded as we travelled further East and he started to get quite angry at the flat lands and then he saw some wind farms and then Dounreay and he got more agitated. Bought him a consolitory pint when we got to Thurso where we tried desperately to fight the battery life of his tiny laptop and find out when the ferries ran from Scrabster. It was getting late so after a tip from a local and his friend 'Dave the Rave' I set up camp on a grassy strip next to the river and a nice duck pond. I'm pretty sure the ducks were quacking the theme to Psycho though...

Here we go, the actual point of the trip: getting to Orkney. I think this image shows Hoy in the distance. I was definitely ready to get off the mainland as it had sapped most of my interest for the trip already. I gave some food to the ducks when I left because I needed the bags to use as a waterproof sock.

I thought I'd take the last nice photo before I got to the port of Scrabster, which was actually much more pleasant than Thurso itself.

Land ahoy! Apart from being nice to look out from, the real reason I was on deck was because I had a pint of Dark Island (Orkney brewery) and a toffee muffin. This coupled with the fact that I get motion sick made me feel not so good.

On to Part Two - Exploring..

© Callus Art 2011