We were up at 7.15, and had an earlier breakfast at 8.00 in order that we could leave by 9.00. We drove down into Stromness, parked at our usual spot alongside the harbour, and then spent a few minutes wandering around before it was time to board the ferry to Hoy, spotting a side alley named ``Khyber Pass''.
The ferry was a small boat named after the island of Graemsay, between the mainland and the north end of Hoy. It was primarily for passengers, although a ramp allowed it to take bicycles and no doubt it could carry a couple of vehicles should the need arise. There is another ferry service operating to the southern end of Hoy which routinely carries vehicles, but the infrequent nature of the service made it impractical for us to take the car across, drive up the island and find time to complete a decent walk before it became time to catch the return ferry.
The boat left Stromness at 10.00, and took around half an hour to make the crossing of Hoy Sound to the tiny hamlet of Moness on Hoy. The journey took us around the isle of Graemsay, and past the remains of one of the WW2 blockships. After landing, we boarded a minibus, the cost of which was included in the ferry fare, which took us across the glacial valley which cuts across the north end of Hoy to the hamlet of Rackwick.
During the rather bumpy journey, the driver pointed out various items of interest, such as the location of the Dwarfie Stane (a rock-cut tomb dating from around 3000BC) and a couple of small wooded areas. Several years ago, four small patches of woodland were planted in an attempt to determine whether trees could grow on the barren landscape of Hoy, and the conclusion appears to be ``yes, but not very well''. We also passed the only natural wood, which survives owing to its sheltered location.
From Rackwick Bay we began our walk. Our initial aim was to walk out to the Old Man of Hoy, and then to see where to go next. As it turned out, the walk to the Old Man was much quicker than expected, with a well-maintained path, and we were there in about 50 minutes.
The Old Man of Hoy is a rock stack rising some 137 metres above the sea, standing atop a lava flow protruding into the sea. We later learned that it used to look rather more human (hence the name), with an archway at the base between two ``legs'', until a particularly violent storm in the nineteenth century caused one of the legs and a substantial portion of the stack to collapse.
It can be viewed either from the cliffs of the island alongside or from the sea (our ferry had passed it, admittedly in rather less pleasant weather conditions). The first attempt to climb it was made in the early Seventies and attracted considerable interest, such climbs are now routine and indeed one was underway as we watched from our vantage point on the clifftops. Conditions were very clear, and the British mainland was clearly visible, indeed we decided that we were able to follow the coastline right across to the northwesterly extremity of Cape Wrath.
We continued walking around the northwest coast of the island, the cliffs becoming higher and the path increasingly less well marked as we continued. We stopped for lunch on a rocky patch overlooking an outcrop known as Bre Brough, watching seabirds riding the air currents in the narrow gap between ourselves and the outcrop. We kept an eye open for St Ola passing on the 12.00 sailing from Scrabster, and remarked upon how small she looked.
By this time we were very close to St John's Head, at 351 metres the highest vertical sea cliffs in Britain. At St John's Head, we turned inland, climbing to a small summit alongside St John's Head named Sui Fea and continuing along a ridge heading towards the hill of Cuilags.
By this point any traces of an official path had long since disappeared and we were making our way along animal tracks through the undergrowth and navigating our way around any particularly boggy ground when necessary. We decided that the climb of Cuilags looked quite doable in the time allowed, and indeed proved quite simple, with solid stony ground. From the summit, at 433 metres, was a superb view right across Scapa Flow and the Mainland, by now bathed in bright sunlight. Across the valley was Ward Hill, slightly higher at 479 metres, and the other of the two great hills of Hoy that we had frequently seen from the Mainland.
Our only problem was how to get down again. Going back the way we'd come would have taken far too long. Moness pier lay more or less directly ahead of us. The only problem was that there was no sign of the ground immediately ahead of us in that direction, as the hill sloped away too rapidly in that direction. We decided to go for it anyway.
As it turned out, it wasn't too bad going, though a very long and steep descent on which one had to be careful of one's footing. Pauline made it down first, and waited for Richard and me to join her beside Sandy Loch. The walk back to the pier was then as straightforward as it was boring, being on tarmacked road surfaces, rather hard-going on the feet after our earlier efforts. We had some time to recuperate at a shelter beside the pier before the arrival of the boat at 5pm, which took us back to Stromness.
Back on the mainland, we decided that it was a little too early for dinner and so went for a drive around the southern coast of the mainland, passing the villages of Houton and Orphir. Pauline navigated us down to the coast at the hamlet of The Breck, it being the closest point on the mainland to the aforementioned island of Barrel of Butter. Even through a powerful zoom lens it appeared tiny. The flare and a tanker at the Flotta terminal behind the isle added interest to my photograph.
We returned to Stromness for dinner, dining at the Ferry Inn on the harbour. I had excellent local smoked salmon for a starter, followed by a fairly average Spaghetti Bolognaise. We returned to the B&B at 8.15, and, somewhat weary, watched television briefly before going to bed. Richard and I were in stitches over an advertisement for Scottish Power, depicting a stereotypical caped superhero flying around and fixing people's problems, but with the classic line ``Scottish Power: at least we won't turn up with our underpants outside our trousers.'' We made a mental note of this for future use, before heading off to bed.