Tuesday, September 28, 2010 — West Mainland, Orkney

I was eager to get to some of the key archae­o­log­i­cal sites, so I hoist­ed my pack and set out on foot. I soon got a lift with a cheer­ful Orca­di­an, and was dropped off at the base of the nar­row arm of land that sep­a­rates the Loch of Sten­ness from the Loch of Har­ray. This was the most active cen­ter of Neolith­ic Orkney. It was but a short walk to the Stones of Sten­ness. These date from around 3000 BC. The phys­i­cal set­ting, between two lochs and at the cen­tre of a vast bowl of land sur­round­ed by high, bare hills, is mar­velous. I was beneath a par­tic­u­lar­ly fine mix of sun and clouds, and there was nobody about to spoil the sense of mys­tery and awe. 


I was now in the New York of the north­ern Neolith­ic. There is an aston­ish­ing den­si­ty of con­tem­po­ra­ne­ous sites, here, most dat­ing from around 3,000 BC. To the imme­di­ate east of the Sten­ness Cir­cle is the Barn­house site. It was once thought that stone cir­cles like Sten­ness were strict­ly reli­gious or cer­e­mo­ni­al struc­tures, pur­pos­ed­ly kept at a dis­tance from domes­tic life. B ut Barn­house proved to be an entire vil­lage, con­tem­po­rary with the cir­cle. Fur­ther to the east is Maes Howe. This extra­or­di­nary struc­ture, beneath a large con­i­cal mound, 35 m / 115 f high, is a mul­ti-cham­bered tomb, con­struct­ed with great skill. The cen­tral cor­belled cham­ber is 3.8 m / 12.5 f high and the qual­i­ty of mason­ry work is superb. Close exam­i­na­tion reveals that it must have been the cul­mi­na­tion of cen­turies of exper­i­ment and build­ing expe­ri­ence, quite apart from the large scale of com­mu­nal labour it must have required. 

Scat­tered about the area to the south of the lochs are a num­ber of iso­lat­ed stand­ing stones. The lochs are sep­a­rat­ed from each oth­er by a nar­row penin­su­la which pro­trudes from the north­west and almost reach­es the south­ern shore. The gap is crossed by a cause­way. Loch Sten­ness receives salt water from the sea, and Loch Har­ray reamins fresh. Thus, each pro­vides a dif­fer­ent selec­tion of fish. If there were more exten­sive marsh­es in ancient times, the area would have pro­vid­ed a rich vari­ety of fish and fowl. I was remind­ed of the Cree’s annu­al har­vest of goose, in Cana­da, which could be depend­ed upon when­ev­er larg­er game failed to mate­ri­al­ize, and which brought togeth­er fam­i­lies from a great dis­tance. There were many birds audi­ble and vis­i­ble to me as I crossed the cause­way. A fam­i­ly of swans glid­ed by, a few metres from me, with serene dig­ni­ty. A par­tic­u­lar­ly fine stone stands at the south­ern foot of the cause­way. At the oth­er end, on the penin­su­la, two stones pro­trude incon­gru­ous­ly from a the lawn of a farmhouse. 

About a kilo­me­tre fur­ther on, the Ring of Bog­nar occu­pies a dra­mat­ic loca­tion on a high part of the penin­su­la. I would have to say that, sit­u­at­ed as it is, Bog­nar is every bit as evoca­tive of “sense of won­der” as Stone­henge is. The ring is huge 104 m / 341 f in diam­e­ter. Twen­ty-sev­en of the orig­i­nal six­ty stones remain stand­ing. The sur­round­ing deep ditch is 380 m / 1,250 f in cir­cum­fer­ence. What­ev­er cer­e­monies took place there (and what these may have been changes with every fash­ion of spec­u­la­tion) must have been grand affairs. Attempts to decypher these mon­u­ments sym­bol­i­cal­ly, with or with­out their rela­tion to the land­sape, usu­al­ly amount to noth­ing more than guess­es. Is the land­scape divid­ed into sym­bol­ic “sec­tors of the liv­ing” and “sec­tors of the dead” ? Sounds neat, but no real evi­dence can be point­ed to. Astro­nom­i­cal align­ments? One for Maes Howe is cer­taom. But align­ments can be cooked up for any ran­dom scat­ter of stones, let alone a cir­cle that is com­bined with iso­lat­ed stones and an assort­ment dis­tant land­scape fea­tures. Attempts to see into the minds of Neolith­ic peo­ple and inter­pret their sym­bol­ism, val­ues and behav­iour tend to resem­ble the empath­ic insights of Dean­na Troi in Star Trek TNG (“Cap­tain, I sense ambi­gu­i­ty and cau­tion in these aliens”). In oth­er words, obvi­ous plat­i­tudes, or arbi­trary guesses. 

The Bog­nar site moved me very deeply. The cir­cle itself is mag­nif­i­cent, and its set­ting would have blown all the cir­cuits of Byron or Char­lotte Brontë. The sun alter­nate­ly hid behind and broke out from rapid­ly mov­ing clouds, cre­at­ing effects that might have been planned by Sven Nykvist or James Wong Howe. There were no bored tourists, chant­i­ng hip­pies, or crys­tal gaz­ers to spoil the moment. The only sounds were those of birds and wind. Such times of seri­ous beau­ty don’t often hap­pen in the clut­tered ruckus of life.

As the day pro­ceed­ed, I was able to amble unhur­ried­ly among the archae­o­log­i­cal­ly sig­nif­i­cant sites of West­ern Main­land. Skara Brae is an amaz­ing place. I don’t decry the ameni­ties that have been set up to han­dle the large num­ber of vis­i­tors who have been inspired to vis­it it by books and tele­vi­sion doc­u­men­taries. After all, I’m one of that num­ber, and not a pro­fes­sion­al archae­ol­o­gist. It’s great to look with my own eyes at what I’ve seen in the books. The hous­es at Skara Brae show a peo­ple liv­ing on the remote fringe of Europe, far away from the sup­pos­ed­ly sophis­ti­cat­ed cen­tres of the Ancient Near East, who could build skill­ful­ly and lived in more com­fort than many an eigh­teenth-cen­tu­ry cot­ter did. Periph­ery trumps Cen­tre. But who these peo­ple were, what lan­guage they spoke, what they believed, and how much of the rest of the world they knew of, we don’t know. I’m inclined to believe that their world was con­cep­tu­al­ly large, that they par­tic­i­pat­ed in a broad net­work of trav­el and trade, and were not strangers to trav­el along the Atlantic seaboard, the North Sea, and the Baltic. The sheer mass num­ber of struc­tures they erect­ed in the region is impres­sive, but it is the qual­i­ty of the engi­neer­ing that impress­es most. These objects were not erect­ed by sav­ages or brutes. 


As both the sun­light and my strength fad­ed I was car­ry­ing a well-loaded pack I stopped ram­bling. Sleep, was a neces­si­ty. Above the farmed fields, the hill­tops of Main­land are waste­lands of gorse and heather. Fear­ing light­ning, I did not perch atop one, but found an inter­me­di­ate loca­tion to pitch a tent, and fell asleep to the low­ing of cat­tle, the bleat­ing of sheep, and irreg­u­lar blus­ter of the wind.

* The largest island is called “Main­land”, a term which Orca­di­ans nev­er use for the main­land of Britain. They gen­er­al­ly refer to the land mass to the south of them as “Scot­land”.

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