OUT AND ABOUT WITH RALPH: Orkney's dark clouds bring early retreat from Shapinsay
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The previous day’s largely fine forecast had, once again, changed. Now a band of heavy rain was to cross Orkney from the north-east, sitting over the islands for much of the afternoon.
I decided to stick with my plans for Shapinsay, it’s one of the easiest of the smaller isles to reach with several sailings a day on the short crossing from Kirkwall.
Shapinsay is a low island of fields and farms and like many islands much more interesting than it looks from afar. I’d visited before but never explored much and now hoped to spend a day visiting all the far corners with the e-bike.
We left on a typical grey Orkney morning of mist clinging to the hills, crossed the tide-race of The String, and came into the harbour at Balfour village. A huge mansion house, Balfour Castle, overlooks the sea with a surprising sycamore wood and walled gardens.
It was still dry. Wasting no time, I pedalled along the shore past the community school and up the hill to take the road heading five miles due north-east to the isle’s furthest corner, Ness of Ork.
The island is quite well inhabited, but was very quiet with nobody about. A strong cold headwind on long straights with big hills would have been a slog but was just an enjoyable ride on the e-bike. It seemed to be brightening, views were opening out to the isles of Eday and Stronsay, patches of blue sky appearing. Maybe the forecast would be wrong.
There’s a little sandy beach near the far corner, the tide was very high, rushing round the end of the island like a river. It was bright over to the Green Holms, there was Egilsay with Rousay beyond, a glimpse of Sanday.
What I didn’t quite like the look of, though, was a very black patch of sky, not much bigger than a man’s hand, heading my way from the north-east. I walked the short distance along the shore to the headland where cormorants sat on slabby rocks and fulmars flew low.
That cloud was now a lot bigger than a man’s hand, indeed the whole sky to the north-east looked increasingly ominous. Spits of rain started as I walked back to the bike. I took time to put on all my waterproofs.
Keeping dry on a bike is something of an art, wear woollen gloves under waterproof rubber gloves tucked into a 100 per cent waterproof top and fasten overtrousers with rubber bands so that water runs over, not into, good waterproof boots. I was to need it all.
Cold, almost sleety, rain was lashing down as I set off back down the road with the wind now behind. It swept in sheets across the fields and swirled round houses.
Four miles back was the island church, just off the road, maybe it would be open for some shelter. Some hope. Most churches have few enough folk these days to open up on a Sunday, let alone other days. But the porch was out of the rain, and I warmed my hands on a hot cup of tea from the flask.
The sky was darkening by the minute. The wind was picking up. It would get worse before it got better, the wisest thing would be to catch an earlier ferry. I explored a bit around Balfour Castle but eventually gave up and retreated to the harbour. I dived inside the container which forms the ferry waiting room as torrents of wind-blown rain hammered across the roof. This was Knoydart, not Orkney, weather.
Without waterproofs I’d have got soaked just wheeling the bike onto the ferry. The little passenger lounge was lovely and warm, I stripped off my dripping outer garments and sat down to enjoy a late picnic lunch as rain continued to sluice the windows.
Back in Kirkwall I’d be a tourist for a couple of hours and give the weather a chance to clear. St Magnus Cathedral is a must, there’s nothing like it for hundreds of miles. There is so much to see. Look for the primula scotica and the Flotta flare in the west-facing window, see all those memorials to upright citizens such as the wife who died in 1609 – "ane godlike and virtuous woman".
There is a book of names of the 833 who died when the Royal Oak was torpedoed. It is turned daily, on every page there are a few ranked "Boy".
I found the Elijah window with the text “Behold, there ariseth a little cloud out of the sea, like a man’s hand”. You may remember that the next verse of this Old Testament weather forecasting story goes on to say: “And it came to pass in the mean while, that the heaven was black with clouds and wind, and there was a great rain.”
