Scotland: Rousay, sticky toffee pudding, and home

The next morning we took the ferry back to the "mainland," or main island of Orkney. It was more overcast than the previous perfect two days, but still good. This ferry was large enough to carry several vehicles.

On the way to Kirkwall, there were windmills to see.

At least one blockhouse remains from World War II.

At Kirkwall we all split up, to do shopping, museum browsing, or coffee sipping as we saw fit. At the appointed time Joan and I linked back up with David to take another small bus to a secondary ferry terminal, to visit the nearby island of Rousay. The other four members of our group had elected to continue shopping; we discovered later that each couple had ordered a traditional Orkney chair, with long and longer delivery times. On our way to the ferry we picked up a local guide, Tom, who would accompany us around Rousay.

The first stop at Rousay was the gardens at Trumland House, another Scottish Baronial style mansion built in the 19th Century (1875 to be exact) by the architect David Bryce. (We've met him before, including at Torosay Castle on the Isle of Mull.) Although Trumland House had suffered much deterioration, new owners purchased it in 2002 and started an ongoing restoration project. We merely visited the gardens to wolf down our box lunches, because the vegetation there sheltered us from the rising winds. Here is my snapshot of Trumland House:

If you click on the photo and look closely, you can see David Bryce's signature knotted rope above the doorway.

From Trumland we drove towards the Midhowe chambered cairn and broch. Our plan was that, with such a small group, we could walk downhill across one field to get to the Midhowe site, rather than driving slowly along an indirect farm road. However, partway along we encountered a crew repaving Rousay's ring road. We improvised. The bus driver, guide Tom, and David took turns holding wide the strands of barbed wire at the edge of the field, and we all slid through unscathed to walk, albeit about twice the distance planned, to Midhowe. On the way, we passed the remains of an old Norse farmstead.

Then we came to the cairn, which is protected by an enveloping stone structure.

The exterior sign.

Orkneyjar expands on this ...

However, although the word "tomb" has long been used to describe these structures, it is perhaps a slightly misleading label and has lead to a widespread assumption that they only had a funerary purpose.

Just as today we would never think to refer to St Magnus Cathedral as a tomb - although any excavator would find no shortage of human remains within its walls - nor should we really label the chambered cairns of the Neolithic as such. Like the cathedral, through the ages, they were probably the focal point for a number of different social, practical or religious ceremonies.

 This is the view upon passing through the door.

The sign within. You don't have to read it all.

This was the only site with elevated walks, which made the experience even more novel.

Looking down on the chambers.

Straight down on the end chamber.

A very short distance from the cairn is the Midhowe broch. This is a much newer structure, constructed sometime between 200 BC and 200 AD.

This broch is known for being among the best preserved.

One dramatic feature of the brochs is their double-walled construction. The two walls are close enough that they support each other through stone lintels or stairways,  but far enough apart that they allow passage for the inhabitants. The original assumption was that they were heavily fortified dwelling places, but new thinking is that they were built more to impress and dominate than for military utility.

Tom felt that, with exterior ditches, gaps in the entranceway roof that could be used to attack unwanted guests, and other defensive features, the great effort required to construct the brochs suggests strongly that there was, at least originally, a defensive reason for the extensive works. They weren't just a statement of wealth.

Joan was able to walk a few feet into the gap between the walls at the entranceway. Then we went on inside. This picture shows Tom discussing the fire pit/hearth/kiln in the middle of the center of the broch.

This may be a cellar used for cold storage. It was large enough for Tom to step down into it.

There's not much wood in Orkney, so the tradition of stone partitions and shelves continued.

I regret not taking a particular picture here. Tom pointed out smaller stones with a depression in them, too small to be grain-grinding surfaces, near each entryway. A medium-sized pebble could fit in the depression. What, he asked, were these? Even David did not know: pivots for the heavy doors of the broch, and the pebbles acted as bearings to make it easier to open and close the doors!

Then it was time to dash back to the bus, which had made its way down the farm road to the cairn, and put the pedal to the metal to get to the ferry on time, which we did. Just. Back at the ferry terminal on mainland, we were joined by Bernardo and Jenny, and said farewell to Tom. Then we were off to see the Gurness broch, on the mainland but within sight of the Midhowe structures on Rousay. The wind had picked up and the chill had increased, but there was a visitors center where you could warm up and see some exhibits. Joan and I bought a glossy booklet about the Gurness and Midhowe brochs.

Of course, there was a sign for those without a booklet.

It's worth quoting again from Orkneyjar, this time about the discovery of the broch.

The remains of the broch were discovered by Orcadian poet and antiquarian, Robert Rendall. While sketching on the knowe, one of the legs of Rendall's stool sank into the mound. Carefully removing some of the nearby stones, Rendall uncovered a staircase leading down into the mound.

The interior looked familiar to those of us who had been on Rousay, but to Bernardo and Jenny it was new.

David pointed out the features of the broch. Behind him you can see a remnant of a stairway.

This site also became a Pictish farmstead, now known as the "Shamrock House" because of its floorplan, around the 5th century. The farmhouse is practically contiguous with the old broch, and perhaps some of the stones were recycled.

Our entire group gathered for our farewell dinner at Lynnfield Hotel, nicely cleaned up after our day.

The final task (except packing) before me was to evaluate again the sticky toffee pudding served here, and reach a final decision favoring either the Lynnfield Hotel or Cleaton House version.

In favor of the Cleaton House pudding was their use of golden syrup, which I had never even heard of before then. For Lynnfield Hotel, there was the use of caramel ice cream instead of vanilla. By a slight margin, I would favor the Lynnfield Hotel's recipe, although I heartily believe that the annals of science would benefit from experimenting with a sticky toffee pudding that used both golden syrup and caramel ice cream.

The next morning was blustery and rainswept, but not foggy. David had told us about the previous Orkney extension, which he had also led; for them Kirkwall had been fogged in on departure day. There aren't many options when you can't fly. The most common is taking the ferry to Aberdeen, which means that you miss every connection and must reconstruct your return journey from scratch. Joan and I had mentally walked through what we might do if faced with such a situation, but thankfully it was not foggy here today.

The Kirkwall airport is very pleasant and modern. Again I now kick myself for a missed photograph, this time of the wonderful mosaic pictures on the walls of the gate area at Kirkwall airport. Approaching Edinburgh, our pilot mentioned fog, and we didn't see the runway until late, but we landed successfully and the air cleared as we waited for our flight to the US. Our wait in the domestic terminal in Newark, NJ was a letdown -- the Edinburgh, Kirkwall, and Newark international terminals had been very tidy, bright, and modern. The Newark domestic terminal was characterized by dingy carpet and ripped seat cushions. Our flight to Columbus was on time, which counts above all else, and we were treated to an aerial sunset through the airplane's windows.

I haven't made a sticky toffee pudding yet, but you can bet I will this winter.