Time to relax. It felt strange not to have a clear objective for the day, and to be able to take as much time as I wanted. And still I managed to leave the campsite at 10am! I popped into Safeway's for breakfast, picking up some onion bagels, Danish salami and a copy of the daily record, which at the time was running a series on Scottish history, and that day's edition was covering the Glencoe Massacre - so at last I would find out the true story!

The wind had swung round behind me, and I made good time. My first port of all was the Earth House at Rennebister, a prehistoric souterrain probably used for storage purposes. It was smaller than I had anticipated, a bit of a squeeze to fit in, actually, but very well preserved. It was only discovered late last century, when some farm machinery placed on top broke through the roof. The viewing arrangement was interesting too. It was fenced off, in the middle of a farmyard, and you accessed it by lifting an iron grille and climbing down a ladder inside.

Next, I stopped a couple of miles short of Finstown. I found a lay-by with some picnic tables which were slightly sheltered from the wind, and made myself comfortable. My Daily record kept on trying to get airborne, which kept me busy. Then I passed through Finstown, where there was very little to see indeed, making for Maes Howe. Maes Howe is a Neolithic chambered cairn in a wonderful state of preservation. I rode up the road next to it to get a view from all angles, and to inspect the adjacent Loch, but the incline and ferocious headwind reduced me to 5.5mph, and I soon gave up.

Forgetting my English heritage membership card, which would have entitled me to a discount, I paid the full admission price. The museum interested me little, and I went over to the cairn. I had to wait outside in the howling wind until the previous guided tour came out. It was a very large group indeed, and must have been quite crowded in there. However, when the guide came for the next tour, I was the only person there, and got an individual viewing. Excellent!

It is not clear what purpose Maes Howe served. One would have imagined it to be a tomb, but no trace of human remains was found when it was excavated, indeed it was completely devoid of contents, which is highly unusual. Also, the sun lights up the chamber at sunset on midwinter's day, and it is possible that it was used for ceremonial purposes. The Vikings broke into the cairn and used it as a shelter, leaving numerous graffiti in runes, graffiti much in the same way as one finds today: "Tryggr carved these runes" and "Ingigerth is the most beautiful of women" and the likes. There is also mention of a treasure, which it is claimed was taken away shortly before the Vikings arrived, and which was buried nearby. It is not clear whether this is based on fact, or on their assumptions, as Vikings did tend to bury their chieftains in mounds together with great treasures. The Vikings only used the howe as a shelter for about 50 years, before the roof, weakened when they broke through it to enter the mound, collapsed, thus preserving their inscriptions.

Next stop, the stones at Stenness. This was a prehistoric stone circle not a mile from Maes Howe, of which only three still stand to their full height. The most remarkable fact is how thin they are, and that they have withstood Orkney's considerable elements for over 3000 years. Unfortunately the atmosphere of this place was ruined by a group of 5 thespian types who appeared to be planning some kind of performance there, and who generally made too much noise. 

Stenness

So I went on to the Ring of Brodgar, half a mile up the road. The daily sightseeing bus was just leaving when I got there, which suited me fine - I had the ring almost to myself. Brodgar is a much larger henge than Stenness, but the stones were much less impressive. Indeed, the diameter is probably the largest of any stone circle I have encountered to date, with the exception of Avebury. One stone had been felled when it was split in half by a lightning strike in 1980, and it is thought that other stones may have been destroyed in this fashion in the past too. I spent some time perusing the circle and the surrounding ditch and barrows, and then returned to Stenness, which now was devoid of people.

 
Ring of Brodgar

Brodgar Lightning Strike

Next, I called in at Unstan chambered cairn, which contained some interesting Pictish and Viking carvings, as well as more modern graffiti from the 19^th century. After this I fought my way into Stromness, battling a rapacious headwind all the way. Fortunately, I was helped by the fact that it was downhill most of the way. Stromness was pretty, much more so than Kirkwall. The bit I explored consisted of one long road following the shoreline and winding its way between old stone houses. Stromness is basically built along the shoreline, and I never got round to exploring any of the bits further up the hill.

In the tourist information I found the details of one B&B which sounded nice, but when I found it the owners were busy waving at the Scrabster ferry with a bedsheet on a broom handle. They assured me that they were not mad, but that their young granddaughter was on the ferry, having been staying at their house for a while. Unfortunately they had no vacancies, but they gave me an accommodation guide and recommended a couple of places. These, alas, were also full, so I headed back into the town centre, where I stumbled across the Royal Hotel. They had a single room, and offered to put Mercury in their beer shed at night, and threw in breakfast too, so I took it.

After settling down and freshening up I went in search of beer. First I phoned Sam to ask him whether there were any pubs recommended in the Good Beer Guide. There weren't, which depressed me. Next I ran into a cycle tourist, and asked him what he was up to. His name was Markus, and he'd ridden up from Munich, starting in April and hoping to get to Reykjavik and back again by the end of September! We chatted a while, and I suggested we go for a drink. The Ferry Inn, next to which we had been standing, served real ale, Orkney Dark, so I was in my element. After about an hour, Markus' English started to run out - he was fine for basic conversation, but he lacked the vocabulary for more technical discourse. So at that point I confessed to him that I spoke German, and hoped he wouldn't kill me for torturing him unnecessarily for the last hour. Fortunately, he was fine about it, and glad that he'd lasted an hour without resorting to German, but we decided to switch to German from that point on for simplicity's sake. He'd run into the same people as me, such as Astrid (I never caught her name), the German I'd met riding out of Tongue, and the trice rider I'd met in the Ben Loyal Hotel. We had even run into each other on the Stromness to Kirkwall road that day, but not recognised each other! We stayed in the pub till quite late, and ended up having 4 pints of the Orkney Dark, leaving both of us a little worse for wear. Then he had to leave, before the light faded completely, as he needed to find somewhere to pitch his tent. So I headed back to the hotel, to have a night-cap that I didn't really need.