Tuesday in Orkney:

Well deeply unimpressed with the Kirkwall campsite, I was packed up and out of in record time, I didn't even pause for breakfast. Instead, still rubbing sleep out of my eyes, I drove back into Stromness for breakfast and pretended like I'd just woken up somewhere much prettier than I actually had.

Stromness doesn't actually have a lot going for it mind you. I mean, it has a lovely old main street with close packed narrow houses, and all the sea front houses have lovely little private piers which must be fabulous to own. There's no shops to speak of though, and stray from the main road and all you've got is regular unpretty residential areas and the ferry terminal. To be honest it's probably a town that looks better from the sea.

I got some provisions at the co-op and ate Breakfast in a car park opposite the terminal whilst watching the boat come in. Then, as the tide of tourists washed up against Stromness harbour, I decided to set off into the wilderness once more and try to avoid them.

Driving in Orkney is an absolute pleasure. The roads are mostly single track like in the North Highlands, BUT there's beggar all people on them - no tourists, no locals, no slow moving Tourers nuthin'. Okay so I was up early again, but either way I blasted my way up to Scara Brae in the same way as I'd blasted my way to Kirkwall from Stromness the night before. I could get used to this. Strangely enough, at one point on route a local waved at me like they knew me. There must be some other wind raddled woman with a Honda full of shit somewhere in the neighbourhood - I wonder when I'll meet her.

I've always wanted to visit Scara Brae for a long time now, dunno why, the place speaks to me in a way that Greek monuments do not. Perhaps its just that its seems to me that the Greeks got it easy being in a nice sunny place like that. Now being stuck on an island in the middle of the North Sea with only stone tools, furs and whale bones to help you survive - THAT'S impressive.

As with a lot of sites more than 1000 old in Britain, the site itself comes from the 'grassy mound' school of attractions - but the guide book does get you in the mood pretty well and the reconstruction of a house is very impressive indeed - it was still a 'bare bones' house with none of the fripperies that man, even ancient man, can accumulate but very good none the less. I'd love to see a fully kitted up version - maybe going and see one of those nutcases living in a reconstructed Norse village, there must be one in Britain somewhere? Anyhow it was everything I expected and I loved it. Might go there again sometime during my stay.

Scail House though? Ack I could take it or leave it. It was too modern. The most entertaining thing for me was that this Laird was living there for years, oblivious that he had a world heritage site on this door step and the house had been built on a Pictish graveyard.

That done, and it now being dinner time, I blasted over to Evie campsite to see if it had any spaces. It did, and it is the most lovely little camp site you could imagine (compared to the Stromness and Kirkwall sites). The grass was lovely and close mown and green, the tent site was compact with no space for caravans or tourers (yay!). It had a nice clean shower and toilets, and there was only one tent there. Hastely, I pitched and nabbed a prime spot which was out of the way, with my porch area facing away from everyone and onto farmland. A warden would be around in the morning apparently.

Content that I'd finally bagged a space in a proper campsite, I headed off to the nearest sticky out bit of coast on the map i.e. 'Brough Head' for lunch. Fortuitously, said sticky out bit had a Broch on it and at Scara Brae I had been persuaded to buy a Megalith Megapass that got me into a bunch of different Brochs of my choosing - this was one of them. Even betterer, this one was on a tidal island and the tide was just coming in. I legged it along the causeway while the water was a centimeter from the top, and jogged over to the waiting warden who had been standing outside his hut all the time I had been crossing the beach and causeway. He warned me the tide was about to turn and I wouldn't have much time to look at the Broch, but I didn't mind, I was prepared to speed-broch and perhaps wade back as necessary. He said it was a funny sort of tide, normally they were quite quick to turn but this one was just sitting there - he guessed I had 10-15 mins max but I didn't mind. I managed to do the Broch in 5, and then spent the next half hour playing on the causeway whilst the tide washed over it, along with some of the other similarly fascinated tourists.

One small but interesting observation - I've oft wondered with placed like this what the warden does when the tide comes in. Answer: he hauls down a flag to warn everyone to get off the island, locks the hut, then goes back to the mainland with his little rucksack. Basically the turning of the tide is clocking out time for him and anyone else left on the island have to take their chances.

I'm chuffed I got there on the turning of the tide actually. I stood for 20mins wading up and down ankle deep in water on the causeway pretending I was getting cut off, then stood chatting with a nice 50 something lady about it. Her granny used to live on Orkney so she'd come every year (she had an English accent though) and knew it thoroughly, but was still in love with the place. She said she'd tried a couple of times to get on the island but mistimed the tides and had to play on the beach. Her children were gambolling on the causeway now like I was - a hulking great 30 something with white legs and ginger hair and a teenaged kid.

IShe said it was fascinating how you got different high and low tide times on different parts of the island and we had a half assed attempt at explaining it to ourselves (all to do with swells and limited openings for the body of water to get into). Sounded plausible but is probably wrong.

She reccommended Marwick Head as my next stopping point, which I did via some pitta bread and spam (eaten with a spork again of course. What's that quote 'I love my spork like I love my wife'...). Marwick Head was indeed very impressive - 100ft high sheer cliffs full of birds. I ended up just sitting and staring and flatlining the brain again for a bit, until some roudy young italian men arrived and started arsing about on the cliff edge, prompting me to bugger off and leave them to it.

Now there's an interesting thing of note perhaps. The tourists are turning more Scottish now. For instance in Ullapool there was a high ratio of all sorts of Europeans (Spanish, German, French and Italian mainly - no Scandinavians interesting) and very few Scots. Suddenly as soon as you hit the ferry though, more Scots start turning up. Not good enough at the accents to tell you what part of Scotland they're from, but they do start to appear in higher numbers definately. And today, just going round all the scenic bits, its almost all ginger, white skinned, freckled friendly Scots. So Orkney is sort of the Welsh coast for North Highlanders I think.

And I haven't seen any American's yet, which I think odd.

I was on a roll now, so as a finale I 'did' the Ring of Brodgar and Stones of Steness. Irritated though I was at the ring by a bunch of children running round and round them screaming, I still just missed the huge tour bus pulling it. Kinda to get my own back on life, even though there was just me and an oriental family at the Stones, I tried to get in the way of her shot as much as possible as she had done to me at the Ring.

Job done, and with night and a fog bank closing in, I headed back. Evie campsite had gained one or two extra tents since I had pitched, but it was still wonderfully quiet and I enjoyed a nice hot shower in peace and tranquility (well apart from a local famer who is even now - at half nine at night - still frantically working in the field, I think he's trying to cut the grassy/hay/whatever before it chucks it down again).

*yawn* maybe a sleep in tomorrow. No idea where I'm going to go but perhaps I'll book a ferry or two. Hoy first I think.