Edinburgh to London fast and free

Edinburgh to London fast and free –

Years ago I was in Edinburgh with a girlfriend. She was leaving the city on a coach for London and I was devastated when I couldn’t book a seat on the coach too. I waved her off with a tear in my eye. With no desire to do anything on my own I was lost and restless. Nor did I have money to overcome the loneliness. I felt crap.

I opted to get “out of there” and decided to hitch “anywhere”. So I walked to the local bus stop and got on a bus going west, out of town, towards the ring road, past Corstorphine and the Zoo. Then I sulkily put out my thumb and trusted to whatever showed up.

I got a lift, towards Glasgow. Then another lift onto the A74 southbound, still unsure of what I was doing or where I was going. I dunno, maybe home to North Wales or maybe the mountains of the Lake District?

Well, my next lift took me into England quickly and it started to dawn on me that this was the same route my girlfriend’s coach would be taking, down the M6, to London. I started to look out for a National Express coach. My driver was in a hurry, doing well over 100 mph, at times I worried we would not survive.

Anyhow, to keep the story short, I got it into my head to chase the coach, and I started to calculate relative speeds, and the head start the coach had on me. It seemed worth trying and my lifts were taking me that way. But no sign of any express coach.

It was going great until I reached the Luton area, north of London on the M1. I was dropped off at a service station, just as light was fading. After the toilets I got a quick coffee and a pen, then wrote a sign saying LONDON, then I walked out past the petrol station to the exit road onto the motorway.

My heart sank. There was a long line of hitchers, at least a dozen, scattered out along the grass verge. And not your smart looking hitchers either. It looked like the photo line up for the police station, and they were all ahead of me. So close but it seemed my hopes were dashed, the chase was lost. I stood and watched. Hardly any cars were passing, maybe one a minute max. None were stopping. Everyone looked miserable and territorial. I was just one more nuisance. I kept out of the way.

A truck stopped, one guy jumped up and went. The queue shuffled a bit. 10 minutes and nothing. It was starting to drizzle and was getting dark, making us all look like shifty shadows. Criminals one and all. A car stopped mid way along the queue and took a very thankful hitcher away. No one moved. So I filled the gap and sat down, depressed.

I paid no attention to the cars as I had to wait for all these others to go first, so I just inked in my sign a bit better, preparing for the dark of night. It was going to be a long night and I had nowhere to go. I had nothing better to do, so I just kept writing LONDON over and over, darker and darker, straightening the lines of the letters, doodling. Then I wrote “please” beneath it, reflecting my sense of desperation.

I was cold, nothing was happening. Some hitchers drifted off, and the 10 or so of us remaining strung out as if to get as far from each other as possible. I noticed all were trying to get lifts, the queue didn’t exist, it was a fashion contest or a parade of rough and grimy folks. One guy was on crutches, poor bloke. Another scared me, so I looked away. We all hitched, like fish trying to get hooked.

A car drove past me – a nice car, a Jaguar – and stopped further down the line. A guy jumped to the door and spoke to the driver then looked up and shouted at me. I didn’t understand. He shouted again, loud! He beckoned me with his arm. I picked up my bag (I was not letting that out of my sight) and walked up. “He wants you” said the hitcher.

I was in the Jaguar, purring down the motorway, next stop London. 12 cylinders hummed. The seats squeaked and smelt of real leather. The clock ticked silently. It was dark outside and the road was empty, as we accelerated well beyond legal limits again. We felt above the law, wrapped in such wealth. The driver, dressed in a smart suit, didn’t say much, other than this:

“I have never given a lift to anyone before – and I never expect to do so again – but you had the courtesy to say ‘please’, so I wanted to help you”.

Well, I told him why I was heading into London, chasing my girlfriend, the journey from Edinburgh, the coach fully booked. He drove me to Paddington station, gave me the money for the Tube (underground) and cruised off. I caught a train to Victoria coach station, arriving 20 minutes after the coaches arrival time. Can you believe it? After all that. All alone at a coach station again.

I was walking out of the station when in came a coach, the delayed Edinburgh coach! I hid behind a pillar, almost too weak to stand. The passengers all got off – and there she was!

I had beaten her to London, faster than the Express (non-stop) coach. You should have seen her face! We hugged.

This story is true. I print it here to be inspirational and informative.

Copyright 2009 Malcolm Handoll

Malcolm Handoll asserts his right to be recognised as the author of the above story, Edinburgh to London fast and free. Please respect this.

The Orkney Dream – DAY TWO – by Joanna Tinsley

It was 8^oC and it was hammering it down. Yet here I was, fully gortexed-up, barefoot on a beach on Orkney and heading for the sea. After a lifetime of stomping about the countryside in hiking boots, walking barefoot is a strange, but bizarrely enjoyable, experience. “Walking barefoot is a metaphor for how we should treat our environment,” explained our guide for the day, Malcolm Handoll from Five Senses, who had just persuaded us to throw off our socks and shoes and head down to the rocky, seaweed-covered beach in the rain. “It teaches you to tread carefully and engage with nature rather than trample all over it.” It also teaches you that that’s no stranger sensation than feeling bubbles of bladderwrack between your toes and, more conclusively, that when you’re at a latitude parallel with St Petersburg, the sea is painfully cold.

Back in the house, our numb feet began to thaw as we wrapped our hands around a mug of hot tea and watched as Malcolm demonstrated how the Neolithic people of Orkney made fire. After a quick lesson, which was interrupted when a hen harrier hovered inches from the window (wildlife always finds you when you’re least expecting it), it was our turn to create nature’s more basic yet elusive element.

First we constructed a tinder nest by tying a tight knot of dried grass, thumbing it out into a cup-shape and lining it with cotton grass. We then crouched over a long, flat piece of wood with an indentation and a notch, while Malcolm wound a wooden spindle into a primitive bow made from a branch and a rope. I clamped the wood with my newly-thawed foot, steadied the spindle with my left hand (using two limpet shells as a bearing) and held the bow with my right, while my friend Rachel grasped the other end of the bow. The idea was to push and pull the bow, thus spinning the spindle and creating enough friction to generate heat. It was trickier than it looked, but after a few wobbly attempts we saw smoke – lovely thick curls of smoke as the charred dust fell onto a piece of goat skin under the notch. After letting this smoke happily away to itself for a few minutes we gingerly tipped the embers into our tinder nests. Cupping our hands around our nests we then blew gently until the smoke grew thicker and a orange glow appeared. “This is it,” whispered Malcolm, “now take one deep breath and blow gently at first, then harder…” We did as we were told and within seconds were holding our very own flaming ball of fire in our hands. It was a truly a magical moment, exhilarating but a little bit scary. After much whooping we dropped the flaming nest and extinguished our handiwork in one quick step. Strangely satisfied, we were left babbling and smiley and smelling nicely of campfires.

Visit www.allfivesenses.com or wait for the August issue of the magazine to find read more…

Sat, 02/05/2009 – 23:42

Submitted by Joanna Tinsley

Go to BBC Countryfile Blog for more of Joanna’s adventures in Orkney.

Orkney Trees in Winter

I took photographs of some of the trees growing on Mainland, the largest of the Orkney Islands, for two reasons: To show that trees do grow in Orkney and to show how they cope with the strong winds and shorter growing season (sunlight).

I have taken the opportunity of snow to contrast against the limbs, thus showing up the tree shape better – and making some cool patterns in the bargain. All pictures were taken on the 10th Feb 2009, with cold hands. I hope you enjoy!

Sycamores and St Magnus Cathedral

Sycamores and St Magnus Cathedral, Kirkwall, Orkney

Windswept Sycamore near Maeshowe Chambered Cairn / Tomb

Windswept sycamore near Maeshowe, Orkney

Sycamore sheltered in Finstown

Sycamore sheltered in Finstown, looking south

Track through Binscarth – Orkney’s largest wood

track through Binscarth - Orkney's largest wood

Not only Willows and Sycamore

One of many palm trees in Kirkwall

A bonus of exploring Orkney woodland

ice water hidden amidst the trees

The sun came out at Redland

sun catching the plantation at Redland

Five minutes later, brrr

Snow forces me to retreat into woods for shelter

Trees leaning towards the light in Binscarth

trees leaning towards the light in Binscarth

The sky above and branches outlined

Trees when viewed looking straight upwards

Going home!

Binscarth - note the prevailing wind sculpted canopy

There you go. I’ll be out more, but the snow is melting, and in summer it will look quite different when all the leaves are out and the many willows are all bushy too.

So, don’t let anyone say again that trees do not grown in Orkney – here is the proof!

For pictures of the Standing Stones in snow, click here

Orkney Standing Stones in Winter Snow

Contrary to many expectations, snow is rare here in the Orkney Islands of northern Scotland. The surrounding waters are too mild and salty, the rainfall is just not that frequent either. So when it snows we take photos – and then everyone gets the wrong impressions. So, here are some pictures of Orkney, taken in February 2009, looking quite unlike how most visitors to these World Heritage sites remember.

Sunrise at Ottersgill:

sunrise Orkney Islands Feb 10th 2009, 8am

My photo project was to record the snow at major landmarks, such as the Ring of Brodgar stone circle and the Stenness Standing Stones – both Neolithic structures (Stone Age). The second batch of photos will be of some of Orkney’s trees, the branches of which show up well against the white landscape.

Stenness Standing Stones:

5,000 year old Stenness Standing Stones, Orkney

Ring of Brodgar and Comet Stone:

Comet Stone and Ring of Brodgar

Ring of Brodgar and surrounding ditch:

The rock-cut ditch around the Ring of Brodgar, now mostly infilled

Lichen growing on one of the stones:

Lichen growing on the stones at Ring of Brodgar, Orkney

Note: I took these pictures when the temperature was about freezing, the air damp, and I just wore a t-shirt and fleece, with a woolly hat, no gloves. For the pictures around our house I was barefoot. Like I say, you have to play to survive!

More of Orkney pictures and places to visit.

Orkney trees in winter

Scotland Photos – Unusual Views

I decided to put up a few more of my pictures of Scotland – and as there are already too many of the ‘usual places’ I have tried to find ones that are both honest yet unusual. So, if you have not visited Scotland before or just want to get off the beaten track and find some place new, away from the crowds, these are for you:

Boats beside Tay with Rainbow

Sheep in Field

General Wade's Bridge in Sma Glen, Highland Scotland

Beware Sheep in the Road!

Autumn beside the A9 between Edinburgh and Inverness

Island of Hoy in Orkney viewed from Mainland

Traditional stone house - shelter beside the ocean, Orkney Islands

ancient skills - making fire by friction - learning crafts and nature

Click here for more pictures of Scotland or my website.

Bon voyage!

One Man’s Journey -The Crieff Drovers Tryst

One Man’s Journey along
the Skye to Crieff Cattle Drovers Route

By Malcolm Handoll, published 2003

The last time I did anything this stupid in public – I fell out of an aeroplane for charity.

It all started with a phone call to Trail Magazine looking for publicity for the Crieff Tryst. In some daft attempt to grab the journalists attention I ended up promising ever more – which left me needing high-quality photographs of myself and various idiots in costumes with live(ly) Highland Cows (with horns!) within three days. A sinch. Oh, and I’d also stated I was walking from Skye to Crieff along the old Drovers routes, averaging 22-25 miles per day (so what, they said?), bivvying out under the stars ‘like the old Drovers’ (well?) … and … and living on a Drover’s diet of porridge oats for a week (interest at last!!) … no chocolate (I had a story!!!)

So that was the plan – walk for a week along vague routes, sleeping out and eating rabbit food. After 6 months of not leaving my computer and a bum moulded to the shape of my swivel chair, and a distinct feeling of public pressure – a fixed arrival date that wouldn’t allow for delays of the ‘I had a blister/got lost/bored/broke my neck’ sort. Damn, I had to do this, without a stove, no money for ‘snacks’ en-route or the bus and no idea if my tendons would play ball.

Oh, and the photographs. Poo! Lots of cow poo, actually, as we stood in a field with Highland Cows looking cute (them) and nervous (them) and stupid (us) in our kilts, gortex, and costumes down the ages. No Wellington boots. Cows don’t like being told what to do by a photographer so we had to casually ‘walk’ into a herd of cows (with sharp horns) and stand as they inevitably bolted between us. Yeh, walking would be a sinch – and it WAS. It was fantastic -the best long distance walk I’d ever done as it turned out. This walk deserves to be a classic. Do it – but read on first.

Terry from Dun Caan Hostel (Kyleakin) dropped us off at the KyleRea Ferry and ‘G’ and I sailed the rapids that once drowned panicked coos, over the pinched gap that keeps Skye an isle, to Glenelg. Omens made me nervous, and ‘G’ felt it, felt the straps dig into soft shoulders. Conversation was sparse as we gauged steps, counting the metres and calculated the distance each day would necessitate. The mountains ahead showed no way through to ‘G’ – who’d joined this 1st leg with me, knowing nothing of Scottish mountains, Drovers or me!!! (We’d only once spoken on the phone – after she’d read the Trail Magazine article).

The Brochs in Glenelg took our minds off the mundane walking and navigation and from then on I was in a world of past lives. I was connected to the endless movement of humans and livestock across these mountains: seeping with memories, revealing hidden valleys and paths unlocking a natural route. My heart had reason to beat – it was magical! To follow such a natural route, leaving man-made paths in favour of the obvious gentle gradient, the lush pasture remnants, where cattle were grazed at night, fattened on their way to market by these skilled herders – the farmer’s ‘long-distance lorry drivers’ and security (they kept their guns) too. It all made such sense, and within the first hours of this walk, I am leaping around the tussocks of grass, a child transformed into a Drover, the journey inside my imagination.

From that first day on I was a drover and it felt great – to not just do a walk, but to understand why and to feel part of this history. Telford planned to use this route for the main road but I’m so glad he didn’t – it’s far too beautiful for that. Let the cars sweep down Glen —–, and leave this journey back in time, when the crags echoed the mooing of cows, the thwack of sticks and the bark of excited cow-dogs with occasional manly shouts. Now I had the rutting deer and felt satisfied.

Each day was marked by the passing of the ‘high-point’, the psychological barrier of that day, which once crossed left a sunset amble metaphorically downhill to some soft patch of grass. Of course G didn’t quite see it that way. I cajoled us on in an anxious bid for a raised knoll where a breeze would ensure midges stayed grounded. A week earlier it would have been very different and a tent would be wise – but Drovers didn’t worry. Mind you, they had whisky, and midges prefer cattle blood, so I’m told. I’m no ‘wuss’, but seven nights sleep deprivation worried me. So we slept on high ground and it was perfect.

Every place I wanted to rest, I found the grass richer and the water clean, sheltered but well drained, dry and midge free – I also found the remains of an old shieling or enclosure. Someone had been here before, many times – and I sincerely hope many stay there again. This walk is always following the natural route, the way you’d go before maps existed, just follow your nose, head in a general direction, think like a drover, and walk on.

‘G’ left after day two, reluctantly to return to civilisation’s commitments – it grabs you so quickly this walk, carries you into a land of dreams, feeds your imagination, and gives reason for each step, like no other – except maybe the pilgrims walks. And my body tuned in too. Eating complex carbohydrates proved a real success, and my pace adapted to the day’s rhythms, yet the slower energy release gave me such stamina, I continue to eat oats, out of choice.

A note on my diet; one of the rules – was no cheating – but hospitality would be welcomed in much the same way as Drovers would have stopped at farmsteads on route, maybe collecting cattle, or just saying ‘hello’.

Obviously, route choices were influenced by familiar stopping places, good pasture, avoiding worn or recently grazed routes and steering clear of trouble or less hospitable folk en-route – and this lends to the argument for a Drovers Route being flexible not a path. The cattle hated the sharp stones of hard core and I am in awe of those who wrestled the beasts to the ground to shoe them for road sections.

I ate raw porridge oats, and much as I love black pudding (the modern equivalent of the bloodletting Drovers supplemented their meagre diet with) I had no fuel to boil even water. I tried soaking the oats over night in cold water – and this was a real culinary masterpiece, different and bland as cold wall paper paste. I ate like a child, forced by hunger, not by pleasure – and for that experience I am forever grateful.

Wise to the nutritional demands of a weeks walking, and to replace the salt, protein and minerals otherwise hidden in cows blood, I enhanced my oats with the vegan equivalent of seeds, nuts and dried fruit (sugar-free muesli). This seemed sensible, true to my PR goal, and made munching on route palatable. Every stream crossed I drank from, so not to carry the weight of water, and I left my watch at the first one, day one!! I was putting it away in my rucksack for the week but its absolute loss made me even more in tune with the Drovers – time from then on followed the day’s weather and setting sun. (If anyone finds a charcoal grey Marmot fleece – it’s mine! Fell off whilst slipping through peat hags in the failing light and on wobbly, end-of-day legs).

Not knowing anyone on route, the hospitality option was severely limited. I therefore treated myself to one night under cover in a bothy (South Spean Bridge) – and a tiny fire, enough to heat hot water – real porridge, and some cheese, bread and tinned fish. It was also a day for cleaning seeping wounds, burst blisters (I never felt a thing) and realising the walk was quite a long way without any preparation. It began to look serious that day and I began to temper my enthusiasm, knowing the media awaited my return. How could I do that? What if my tendons swelled? – They did. By Loch Rannoch I couldn’t get my boot off it was so swollen, and trench foot has a peculiar smell, suitable only for solo walks and open air bivvying.

My concerns about conflicting access and landowners shooting deer didn’t materialise – in fact it prompted me to a route that is far more enjoyable and diverse than had I stuck to the ‘shortest line between two places’. Of course I contacted gamekeepers before setting off, and ensured they were happy with the plan (they were) and after Loch Ossian Hostel (tea stop) my route ‘detoured’ via Loch Rannoch – and I’m so glad I did! This kept the scenery changing constantly; never getting dull like a drudge up the West Highland Way.

This walk is characterised by its ever changing countryside – from Kintail and Knoydart’s wild beauty, to idyllic broadleaf woods beside still lochs, long tracks ideal for mountain-bikes, meandering streams, woods and rich farmland – and best of all, the whole way uses existing ‘natural routes’. That’s one of the joys – to walk in the footsteps of our ancestors – our inheritance. This walk is a journey, at the end of which you are in tune with nature, humanity and the seasons. Sleeping out allows the ultimate luxury of simply sleeping any where you like – beside the path, a kind bed of moss, a turfed lochside, a roofless hovel, they are yours for the night! literally! It is a route that is in essence many various routes, there is no right or wrong as such. My only sadness is that the many old buildings along the way are not restored to a basic bothy – that would be my long term dream – for they are in the best possible spots – chosen by our wise ancestors – the sheltered, watered land – complete with sunrise and stunning view! Had Telford’s road gone through these would be luxury holiday homes now. For a night at least, they were mine, complete with stars and air conditioning.

My only other suggestion to walkers of this route is not to have set days – but instead let the journey unfold, as if you are herding cattle and sheep, let the weather and the mood guide you, choose to explore and let your imagination run wild. I got ahead of myself, had to wait half a day for the media to arrive at our rendevouz, and like a true drover managed to wile away some hours in the coach house bar, with rowdy farmers and crazy musicians. It felt ‘as they would have done’.

I swear by the end of it I just wanted to keep on going – or turn round and go back. Whichever direction you choose, this walk is a classic.

The original text can be viewed at The Scottish Mountaineer

The Mountaineering Council of Scotland

Issue 20 October 2003

The Crieff Tryst takes place yearly in October. Go to the website for more information.

***

What they are saying about Five Senses in Orkney, Scotland

Following yesterday’s post about attention to detail, here are some quotes from testimonials, feedback and letters of thanks, posted to me at Five Senses, here in Orkney, Scotland. I was preparing to put them up on the website but they also seem appropriate for the current blog theme, so excuse the praise and read the detail – it is all about the detail. [Italics and bold added by me].

Malcolm of Five Senses with Stinging Nettles

What is being said about Five Senses:

(See also The Scotsman Newspaper article)

Guests write:

“We cannot say enough about Malcolm and Rachel of Five Senses Tours. We had a great tour of the Highlands and Orkney and saw and experienced so much more than we would have on our own. Tailored to our needs and flexible, educational and fun! I can still taste the local food and drink!”

***

“I want to thank you for the day my daughter and I spent with you. Your tour was quite remarkable.

The Five Senses Tour experience certainly engaged all our sense, as promised, but it did more. It engaged our minds. As a guide you presented us with the tactile, olfactory, aural (I shall never forget the acoustics at the Stones of Stenness), and visual feasts, along with a terrific lunch. But you also asked us to consider what we saw, not to take it on face value. Too often a tour will tell you what the experts say and leave it at that. With Five Senses, you offered us competing theories and then you asked us what we thought, what we saw. I left enriched and excited…and my brain was wonderfully full.

Would that all tours were that wonderful.”

***

“‘Twas the most memorable experience of my two weeks holiday in Ireland and Scotland…”

***

“Just spent three amazing days in the Orkney Islands with the wonderful couple from Five Senses of Scotland. Learnt firelighting with a handmade wooden bowdrill, explored ancient sites – including singing and drumming inside a stone tomb until we found a pitch that caught its natural frequency and amplified our quietest voices many fold – hiked and camped through the lush island of Hoy, drinking delicious fresh water from a rippling stream, while learning to navigate with a compass, and sharing an old stone bothy with passing hikers and a roaring fire (and much more).

If you want to immerse yourself in the land and culture of the Orkney Islands, I would highly recommend this group. Both Malcolm and Rachel are deeply friendly and caring about the people they work with and the land and work it self.”

***

“Thank you very much for giving us such a fantastic time, so much information, new skills and much food for thought, so, in a way it was an intellectual experience too!”

***

“Just want to say how fantastic the new Orkney Experience was. You are both such an inspiration.

Malcolm you are a talented person with such a special gift to see the world in all its wonder and be amazed. Thanks for sharing it.

Rachel, thanks too, for sharing your smile, warmth and sincerity.”

***

“Thank you again for such a memorable day!”

***

“I have arrived home from my wonderful vacation to Scotland and Ireland. What an amazing adventure it was! I wanted to thank you for hosting such a wonderful day in Kirkwall. It was so nice to be shown around by someone who truly loves their country and enjoys sharing this joy with others. I will be posting your contact information on the Cruise Critic web site. Perhaps a few cruise tours here and there may be helpful to you. Please stay in touch and let me know how your business plans are going. If there is anything I can do to promote All Five Senses on my end please let me know.

Again, thank you for a wonderful day.”

***

“Thank you for an absolutely brilliant evening yesterday – Ellie hasn’t stopped talking about it since. We have tonight made fire at Birsay and even demonstrated
it to someone else.

Thanks again.”

Making fire by friction - using your senses

“What an outstanding, thoughtful, insightful and unusual introduction to Orkney. Including tea on your fabulous sun porch was an added bonus!!

Thanks so much for a wonderful day.”

***

“We cannot thank Five Senses enough for our trip to Orkney and beyond, we saw and learned far more than we thought we would and ten times what we would have it we had done it on our own. Our only regret is not having more time. What probably sums it up the best is what happened at the Inverness airport, as we were leaving and they asked how many of us where flying we answered “six”, to which the seven year-old replied “yeah, six, we’re short one now”.”

***

“Well, I’m home now and looking back, the day spent with you in Orkney was the highlight of my trip. Thank you so much for sharing your stories, the fire-making and the special magic of Orkney.

It was such a blessing to meet you and to feel welcomed by your spirit to these ancient sacred places. I will always look back on that day with gratitude.”

Burnside cottage, Rackwick, Island of Hoy, Orkney

And there is more …

“It’s an amazing place; however, this can only really be appreciated if you do it with Five Senses. Out of all of the experiences that we had on our trip to the UK, meeting Malcolm and his wife Rachel and going to all of these ancient places and learning so much was the highlight of the trip. Not to mention actually being able to touch a part of the past.”

***

“We had a picnic with Malcolm on the last day in this field of heather. I still to this day remember what the food tasted like. It was incredible — we can definitely say that we experienced Orkney with all five senses. Not to mention we now know a lot of survival techniques that we learned from Malcolm while visiting Orkney.”

***

“Touring the island with Malcolm was truly a five sense experience. He not only introduced us to the topographical, geological and spiritual aspects of the environment, he and his lovely wife, Rachel, made us feel like family – one well worth a return trip.”

***

“Having used Five Senses I have to say that the quality of interaction with the children, the content of the experience, and the high motivation factor were all really impressive.

So much was this the case that I have booked a half day for my own school to launch our Fuel and Power Topic with a spark! Several other of the commonly used cross-curricular, science- or history-based Topics in Primary would be greatly augmented by such an experience as we had, especially several involving past civilisations or prehistory, or those considering materials and their properties.

The level was right, the risk assessment and health and safety issues were addressed, the personnel were SO enthusiastic and engaged the children without exception and for the whole duration of the afternoon. The children worked as a team eagerly, each having hands-on experience and all gaining so much knowledge, in theory and in practice, about materials, past times, the creation and maintenance of fire, its significance to various times, cultures and peoples, its dangers and safe management.

I have no hesitation in recommending colleagues to take a look at what these people have to offer.”

Limpets are survival food

***

“Planting a naked foot on a board, Malcolm used a bow and hazel ‘drill’ to create flame. Even in these hi-tech days fire still has a magical power to thrill.

These are experiences the children will never forget. Science is all about seeing, enjoying, discovering, trying things out – and, sometimes, being so enthralled by a moment that it changes the way someone thinks for ever.”

Fire Making Class with Malcolm

***

“Five Senses showed our family of 4 plus my sister and her husband around for a week. It was incredible. The highlight of 3 weeks in the UK – and we plan to return. We could not have seen 1/3 of what we saw without Malcolm. It was not a “okay so look at this for 20 seconds” type event. Malcolm asked us all kinds of questions for weeks before we arrived. Once there, he learned more about us — and surprised us with a stop off at a rare breed sheep farm, as well as a combination wool shop / bookstore, to satisfy all 6 of us. I would highly recommend Malcolm and Five Senses to anyone. It is not costly when you realize how much you end up doing, seeing and experiencing.

We shall be back”.

***

“The rest of our trip was nice but we really feel the highlight was the week we spent with you and can’t stop talking about it. Kudos to you Malcolm”.

Exploring Shetland by Bod

I have just returned from exploring the Shetland Islands – the most northerly place in Britain, over 60 degrees latitude. Watched puffins (early August) and lots of seals. Slept in the doorway of a Bod each night, caught the overnight ferry from Kirkwall and flew back from Sumburgh in a twin engine Saab. Rented a car for 3 days from Star rental, which worked well, except the car had an unpleasant smell I attributed to cleaning chemicals and the new upholstery. My nasal passages were much happier when freed of this noxious asault, to enjoy the salty air, the peat fire, the smoked salmon and seaweeds.

Cooked fresh scallops in garlic butter with a dusting of paprika, followed by reestit mutton and tatties. Ate mouthfulls of alfalfa, fruits and veggies. Made scambled eggs and then toasted wholegrain bread with a fork, holding it close to the orange embers of the peat fire. Toasted in under 10 seconds. Smothered in unsalted butter. I didn’t eat this myself – it was for my guests!

The Bod was too hot to sleep in – thanks to the peat fire in the stove (the only source of cooking heat, except an electric kettle. So, I slep in the porch, in a sleeping bag, with the door open. Fine until 3.30 when the birds all woke up and bugled me awake. Another night was very calm so the midgies were biting and I closed the door to all but a whisper of cool air.

The “Bod“ at Skeld, best described as a cross between a bothy and a hostel, or camping barn, is a mix of modern and ancient, of electrical appliances and basic simplicity. Bods are clean and cared for, provide only mattresses (wafer thin too) on wooden bunk beds, and some like this one have electric showers, lighting and a kitchen, indoor toilets and a black stove. At £8 per person, a night (plus a £1 for electricity and £5 for a bag of peat, which lasted 2 nights continous use) they are a good alternative to b&B or self catering. The only youth hostel, being in the town of Lerwick, is functional but lacks character. Self catering is charged by the week, so is too expensive. B&Bs do not provide places to cook, and it can be tiring eating out and not having control over your diet.

For more info go to Shetland’s Bods run by Sheltand Amenity Trust (branch of the Sheltand Islands Council).

Highlights were the puffins, seals and the rugged coastline, the wonderful hospitality and good weather, making walking to Staneydale a delight with a picnic of smoked salmon, oatcakes and cheeses. Looked at Mousa broch, Clickimin broch, croft museum, Scatness, Jarlshof, Lerwick, Sumburgh Head and lots of Atlantic Ocean and North Sea water! See Doug Houton for some pictures.

Slept ok on the ferry from Kirkwall (Orkney) but the noise of the engine and thrusters took some getting used to. Never the less, it was mighty convenient to have a shower in my cabin and get breakfast before leaving the ferry at 9am. The only downside was being woken at 6.30 am to be told, by a loud announcement, that breakfast was now being served – a totally unnecessary disturbance that wakes everyone! This is followed at 7.30 am by the announcement that we have docked, and a number of other messages for the car drivers (who have to leave and remove their cars – at least they are allowed back on board for breakfast). So, not enough rest for this wicked person. Please will Northlink Ferries cease this practice of waking everyone to promote breakfast sales and let us tired drivers sleep one more delightful hour of cosy dreams? Please.

26/8/08 Here is a blog i just read, about a 6 day tour of Orkney & Shetland, which you might find interesting. Everyone in tourism should read and analyse this fascinating insight into a visitors experience.

Camping in Scotland – Rackwick on Hoy is a real treat.

Rackwick Bay – Bothy and Campsite – Hoy, Orkney, Scotland: A superb location beside the Atlantic at 59 degrees north.

Rackwick Bothy and Camping at "Burnside", Hoy, Orkney

The ‘bothy’, provided by the Hoy Trust, is a wonderful, simple shelter, ideal for cooking and socialising. An open fire can be maintained using driftwood and seaweed from the adjacent beach.

The scenery is breathtaking, beside the Ocean, surrounded by cliffs. Excellent, easy walking all around. Highlights include the Old Man of Hoy, Ward Hill, Dwarfie Stane, Berriedale and the local croft called Craws Nest. Best of all though is the campsite and bothy – very hard to leave!

Facilities include running water (untreated), toilet (paper too) and washing soap, use of the bothy and a stone walled grass camp plot, big enough for a dozen tents. Fires and BBQs are common.

Note: I left plenty of tinder and fuel for a fire – please consider others and replennish this supply. “Leave it a little better than you find it“. The fireplace is the heart of the room so treat it carefully and avoid setting fire to the place – especially the lovely heather thatched roof.

Donations for upkeep can be left in an honesty box. Please do help.

Rackwick Bay is beautiful. It is 4 or 5 miles walk from the Moness Pier (ferry to Stromness) and the cafe there is very handy (the pub has closed I believe). No shops. Bring enough food for extra days!!! A telephone and a scattering of houses are nearby, in emergency, but it is otherwise quite remote. A very popular bothy and camp site – expect other people, even in winter – and groups must book in advance. Hoy is magic! Go, enjoy, and respect the fragile nature all around. Tred gently!

There is also a small SYHA hostel in Rackwick, up by the telephone and the path to the Craw’s Nest / path to Old Man.

The bothy – a basic shelter with a concrete floor and no lighting – is in the house called “Burnside” on maps.

Rackwick means ‘rock bay‘ in old norse – you’ll see why when you get there! So you don’t need the word ‘bay’ after it. I have a picture of the rocks in Fire Your Imagination.

Go to Five Senses for info about holidays and getting to Hoy, Orkney, with Malcolm.

See the first BASE jump off Hoy and the sad story of one of the jumpers, here.

Old Man of Hoy - Orkney Islands, Scotland

I live in the safest place in the UK, apparently

Orkney is officially the safest place in the UK

… with newly released police figures showing that crime is down by 29% for the first quarter of 2008 and detection rates are up to 90%. [Reported in Orkney Today]

Community Garden in St Margaret's Hope, Orkney

“We are still the safest place in the UK,” said Detective Sergeant Bob McKenzie, Acting Inspector for Orkney.
“We’ve got the lowest crime and the best detection rates in the UK. We are very pleased.”

He put the low figures down to extra police officers on the streets and on Orkney’s geography.

“We have more officers out patrolling on foot,” said DS McKenzie. “This gives a visible police presence, which we will be continuing.
“Orkney, Shetland and the Western Isles have always had fairly low crime rates and high detection rates. Being an island tends to protect us. People can’t disappear off the radar here as readily as someone on the mainland could get away.”

~ ~ ~

Isn’t that great?! So good to live in a place where you can leave your house unlocked, a woman or child can walk the streets without threat, and people look out for each other.

Mind you, the down side is the cost of travel to leave the islands and go to the cities – but personally I’d rather live where it is safe and the air is clean than live near the city and car fumes, door locks and looking over your shoulder. Friends of ours live in Edinburgh and describe a journey to the local shop involving 7 locks … flat, front door, shed, bicycle, gate, etc … what a waste of time!