Cameron’s Travels

Aside from its Old Norse heritage and its prehistoric sites, Orkney is known for its role in 20th-century military history. The islands of Orkney create a natural harbor, called Scapa Flow, that was the base for the British Royal Navy during both World Wars.

During World War I, to more completely seal off the harbor, the navy requisitioned and intentionally sank hundreds of ships in the narrow straits between islets. A century later, you can still see their rusting hulls poking up above the surf.

In the early days of World War II, a Nazi submarine discovered a gap in the sunken-ship barriers, and managed to enter Scapa Flow and sink the HMS Royal Oak. First Lord of the Admiralty Winston Churchill (just weeks before becoming prime minister) hatched a plan to build sturdy barriers between the islets. These were finally completed just a few days after V-E Day, and today tourists use them to link the WWII sights.

The most fascinating World War II site on Orkney — and in my mind, one of the best wartime sites in all of Europe — is the Italian Chapel. The Italian POWs who built the Churchill Barriers were granted permission to create a chapel of their own. While it looks like a pretty church from the outside, circling around back you see that it’s actually two prefab Nissen huts (similar to Quonset huts) stacked end-to-end.

The POWs decorated the chapel in their free time, using whatever materials they could scavenge. The ethereal Madonna e Bambino over the main altar is based on a small votive one prisoner had brought with him to war. They used scrap metal from sunken WWI ships to create the gate and chandeliers.

This elegant baptismal font’s corkscrew base is actually a suspension spring coated in concrete. Lovingly crafted details like these are a hope-filled symbol of the gentility and grace that can blossom even during brutal wartime.

Seeing the many sights on Orkney is doable on your own, but much more satisfying with a good local guide. I was treated to a great guide named Kinlay, whose company Orkney Uncovered runs tours that efficiently tie together both the prehistoric and the World War sights on this eclectic island. Thanks, Kinlay!

Orkney boasts an astonishing concentration of 5,000-year-old Neolithic monuments — some of the best in Great Britain (and that’s really saying something).

Five thousand years ago — before the Picts and Celts, before the ancient Greeks or Romans, before the Great Pyramids, and even centuries before Stonehenge — Orkney had a bustling settlement with some 30,000 people. These prehistoric Orcadians left behind structures from every walk of life: humble residential settlements (Skara Brae, Barnhouse Village), mysterious stone circles (Ring of Brodgar, Stenness Stones), more than 100 tombs (Maeshowe, Tomb of the Eagles), and a sprawling ensemble of spiritual buildings (the Ness of Brodgar). And of course, this being the Stone Age, all of this was accomplished using tools made not of metal, but of stone and bone.

Of Orkney’s many stone circles, the Ring of Brodgar is the biggest. Of the original 60 to 80 stones — creating a circle as wide as a football field — 27 still survive. The ring, which sits amidst a marshy moor, was surrounded by a henge (moat) that was 30 feet wide and 20 feet deep.

Some of the ring’s stones are carved with “graffiti” — names of late-19th-century tourists. There’s even some faint Norse runes carved by a Viking named Bjorn around A.D. 1150.

Orkney offers a unique opportunity to see an actual archaeological dig in progress, at the Ness of Brodgar. Discovered only in 2003, the site is carefully covered ten months out of the year — but in July and August, anyone is welcome to watch the archaeologists at work.

At Skara Brae, you can see how some Neolithic people lived like rabbits in warrens — hunkered down in subterranean homes, connected by tunnels and lit only by whale-oil lamps. All of this was covered with turf, with only two or three entrances and exits. Because sandstone is a natural insulator, these spaces — while cramped and dank — would have been warm and cozy during the frequent battering storms. A primitive sewer system, flushed by a re-routed stream, ran beneath all of the homes, functioning not too differently from modern sewers. They even created an ingenious system of giant stone slabs on pivots, allowing them to be opened and closed like modern doors.

For very seasoned travelers, Orkney — the archipelago that dangles just above the crown of Scotland — has a special allure. When I tell most people I’m going to Scotland, they say, “Oooh! Edinburgh!” or “Pretty! Highlands!” But the extremely well-traveled squint their eyes and ask me, almost conspiratorially: “Will you make it to Orkney?” And when I tell them yes, a flash of jealousy passes their face. “You’ll have to tell me about it.” It’s not a request…it’s an order.

Why is Orkney the holy grail of Scottish travels? For one thing, it’s remote: At best, you’re in for a three-hour drive due north of Inverness, then an hour and a half by ferry. Unless you take the slow route that I did: Two days up the west coast, then across the north coast of Scotland.

Crossing the 10-mile Pentland Firth to Orkney, you feel as if you’ve traveled more like 1,000 miles. Orkney is a world apart. For most of its formative history (875-1468), Orkney was a prized trading outpost of the Norwegian realm. The Vikings left their mark, both literally (runes carved into prehistoric stone monuments) and culturally: Many place names are derived from Old Norse, and the Orkney flag looks like the Norwegian flag with a few yellow accents. Today, while Orkney is technically Scotland, it doesn’t quite feel like Scotland — with no real tradition for clans, tartans, or bagpipes.

Over the next few days, I’ll report on Orkney’s two big claims to fame: its amazing prehistoric sites and its fascinating World War II heritage. But first, let’s get our bearings.

The Old Man of Hoy, one of Orkney’s main landmarks, is a 450-foot-high sea stack that towers up in front of Britain’s tallest vertical sea cliffs. To see it, you can hike seven miles round-trip…or you can just look out the window on the ferry to Stromness.

Orkney’s main island is — confusingly — called “Mainland.” It just goes to show: One person’s island is another person’s mainland. (If that’s not an old adage, it should be.) While there are a few dramatic cliffs on its perimeter, most of Mainland is flat and carved into tidy little farm plots.

Orkney’s capital, Kirkwall, is home to St. Magnus Cathedral, built in classic Romanesque style by the same stonemasons who did Durham’s famous cathedral. (In Durham, the style is called “Norman” — but the Normans never made it this far north.)

St. Magnus is my favorite church to tour in all of Scotland. It’s jammed with quirky and fascinating details, like this tomb of artic explorer John Rae — who seems to be really enjoying his nap.

Gravestones line the walls of the nave, each one carved with reminders of mortality: skull and crossbones, coffin, hourglass, and the shovel used by the undertaker. One touching epitaph reads: “She lived regarded and dyed regreted.”

I enjoyed staying in the Orkney countryside, at Holland House. After staying in dozens of B&Bs, I thought I’d seen it all. But this place has a particularly thoughtful custom: The day after I checked in, I noticed they were flying the Stars and Stripes. Apparently they have quite a flag collection, and pride themselves on displaying the flags of their guests.