Sunny Afternoon in the Orkneys

Just because a church is nearly a thousand years old doesn't mean it can't refresh the depiction of its namesake.  In fact, adaptability probably has been critical for St. Magnus Cathedral in Kirkwall.  After all, it was built by the Vikings and survived the Reformation nearly intact.  Mungo's cathedral in Glasgow is the only other one in Scotland to manage that feat.

By the time this crucifix was engraved, the glorious cathedral already was half-a-millennium old!

This undated rendering hung in Skaill House.

The cathedral is a work of art from top to bottom.

Chris, a walking encyclopedia of disasters, had mentioned a 1939 German submarine attack on a British ship in the Scapa Flow, a body of water surrounded by several of the Orkneys that served as the UK's chief naval base during both world wars.  This memorial, inside the cathedral, commemorates the more than 800 men who went down with the H.M.S. Royal Oak, a battleship.

St. Magnus is unlike any cathedral I've ever visited perhaps because of its Norse origins. The decor seemed just a little less ornate.

John Rae, an Arctic explorer and native son, lies beneath this tomb.  You don't often see depictions of men with their arms in this position.

More contemporary art depicts the martyrdom of St. Magnus.

The wood carving is almost as intricate as that I would see several days later in the Thistle Room of Edinburgh's St. Giles Cathedral.

These stones lay at the cemetery gate.

The graves were much, much older than I'd seen elsewhere in Scotland with some of the tombstone dates going back to the 15th century.

I loved this old building across the street.

Age, of course, being relative in this neck of the woods:  William the Old, the Cathedral's first bishop, ordained by the Norwegian Catholic Church, moved into this palace across another street during the early twelfth century.

We drove to the Italian Chapel,  built by World War II prisoners of war. Those same Italian prisoners had been sent to the Orkneys to construct the four concrete causeways known as the Churchill Barriers that now surround and protect the Scapa Flow.  We drove over one to get to the chapel.

The chapel facade conceals a quonset hut.  It couldn't compare with the cathedral but it charged admission to see its trompe l'oeil ceiling.  A complete rip-off IMHO.

Although I did like this felt cross someone left behind in a fountain bowl.

We still had plenty of time to explore Mull Head before our dinner reservation.  We unexpectedly came across the Gloup, a sea cave enthusiastically recommended by our Airbnb hostess after I told her how much we'd enjoyed our wee walk on Dingieshowe Beach. I wonder if she's aware that Orkney farmers reputedly led their infirm horses over the cliff to forestall the effort of disposal?  A possibly apocryphal, definitely horrifying use of this inaccessible sea cave!

Our brief but spectacular hike across Mull Head reminded me how much I find divinity in nature.  The stone used for the Neolithic sites we saw upon arrival in Orkney may have been peeled from formations like this.

Look at this grass and you'll know in an instant which way the wind usually blows.   We experienced not even a breeze. 

I wonder how much this seagull paid for her cliff condo with North Sea views?

This cairn reminded me of one I saw at Uluru.  Man occasionally does leave his mark in environmentally conscious ways.

Highland cattle have long horns and hair.

Their calves look like bear cubs.

After a brief stop at our caravan, we drove to Foveran on the Scapa Flow for our fanciest meal of the trip by far.  A tonic shortage required diluting my Orkney gin with lemonade.

Too bad my appetizer--a crab beignet--didn't taste as good as it looked.  And my sirloin steak was gristly.

 

But the Jubilee trifle--sensational!  The prices weren't bad either.