I was awakened by a cuckoo bird this morning—a REAL live cuckoo bird. Sounded just like the pretend one in my grandmother’s old clock. Went back to bed and slept until 7:20 when I was then awakened by the chickens, goats, sheep, and the wind coming up.
Breakfast a la Jenny again and just as delicious. We took the A836 out of Tongue towards Bettyhill, headed towards Wick in a slow roundabout way, stopping to see interesting sites. I have to say once again how impressed I am with the abundance of clean public toilets in almost every town. They are so helpful when you are traveling. Finally had the experience of Oncoming Cars in Middle of Road, as the signs have warned us. Several cars careening over into our lane on curves.
Passed by Swordly, an aptly named Scottish town, don’t you think? We drove out to Strathy Point Lighthouse where we could see the Orkneys from the small car park. There was a sign to the lighthouse that read: Please do not take your dog beyond this point. The cliffs are unfenced and the sheep are likely to panic and go over the edge. SEERAD
The image of nervous sheep leaping to their deaths in a mass suicide kept us in the car. As did the wind.
We went to Scrabster to check out the ferry then drove out to Dunnet Head—the most northerly point in Britain. We saw the lighthouse perched close to the 300-foot cliffs and read about how even at its lofty heights, the Pentland Firth waters are so ferocious that windows in the lighthouse have been damaged by stones thrown up by the sea. We climbed up to the summit for wonderful views of the cliffs and the Orkneys. On a clear day, which this was, you can see all the way to Cape Wrath in the west and Duncansby Head in the east.
Breakfast a la Jenny again and just as delicious. We took the A836 out of Tongue towards Bettyhill, headed towards Wick in a slow roundabout way, stopping to see interesting sites. I have to say once again how impressed I am with the abundance of clean public toilets in almost every town. They are so helpful when you are traveling. Finally had the experience of Oncoming Cars in Middle of Road, as the signs have warned us. Several cars careening over into our lane on curves.
Passed by Swordly, an aptly named Scottish town, don’t you think? We drove out to Strathy Point Lighthouse where we could see the Orkneys from the small car park. There was a sign to the lighthouse that read: Please do not take your dog beyond this point. The cliffs are unfenced and the sheep are likely to panic and go over the edge. SEERAD
The image of nervous sheep leaping to their deaths in a mass suicide kept us in the car. As did the wind.
We went to Scrabster to check out the ferry then drove out to Dunnet Head—the most northerly point in Britain. We saw the lighthouse perched close to the 300-foot cliffs and read about how even at its lofty heights, the Pentland Firth waters are so ferocious that windows in the lighthouse have been damaged by stones thrown up by the sea. We climbed up to the summit for wonderful views of the cliffs and the Orkneys. On a clear day, which this was, you can see all the way to Cape Wrath in the west and Duncansby Head in the east.
Then it was back onto the A836 and out to John O’Groats. This isn’t the most northerly village, but it is the northerly end of the longest distance between two points on the British Mainland. This is the point where Ewan MacGregor began his motorcycle tour of Britain, ending up at the southerly point, Land’s End. Evidently this is a favorite thing to do for many people as we found out in the café where we had lunch--there were signed registry books for everyone who had done the route. You can even join the End to End Club. Now I think Ray has it in his head that WE must do this. So I suppose a trip to Land’s End is in order at some point. The cliffs are 200 feet high here and the views across the Pentland Firth to the Orkney Islands six miles away ate stunning. A mound and flag pole near the John O’Groats House Hotel mark the site where Jan de Groot, a Dutchman, built his famous house in the reign of James IV (1488-1513). His seven descendants quarreled about precedence, who was to sit at the head of the table, etc., and Jan de Groot solved this problem by building an octagonal house with 8 doors one for each of his seven sons and himself, and an eight-sided table so that no one occupied the head of the table. He ran a ferry to Orkney and charged 2 pence a trip. The coin for this denomination became known as the ‘groat.’ Over time, the name Jan de Groot was changed to John O’Groats.
And now for something new—
Have you ever had a reservation at a hotel and showed up, only to be told that the hotel was CLOSED. Closed? We made the reservation for 2 nights at the hotel in Wick and drove all the way through Thurso to get to Wick then spent and inordinate amount of time finding the hotel. When we finally did find it, we pulled into the car park and something just didn’t seem right. The car park was totally empty except for a dead black crow lying there in one of the spaces! That should have been a sign. We walked up to the front doors of the hotel, and they were locked. Locked--we gave each other the strangest looks. What was going on here? About that time, someone from inside came to the door with a strange look on HIS face. He proceeded to tell us that the hotel was closed.
Closed? But we have reservations for 2 nights, I told him. No, I don’t think so, he smiled. We have no emergency lights, he went on, so we have had to close. Your reservation would have been transferred to the hotel in Thurso.
You mean the Thurso that we just drove through 21 miles back, I thought to myself.
He gave us directions, and we had to wonder the whole way whether we indeed had a room reserved for us there. And guess what—we didn’t! We showed up and told the receptionist, Emma, our predicament and she seemed very surprised. She was concerned as last night they had not a single room left what with 3 coach tours in, but, thankfully, she found us a room for these 2 nights, and, since our reservation was prepaid, we got this much better room that is also MUCH closer to the ferry for the same rate we would’ve paid at the other hotel. So it all turned out well. Room 147 is large and kind of tucked off to itself and very comfortable.
I was reading about the history of Thurso and found an article written about the town in 1875. Although Thurso boasted five hotels then, the Royal Hotel was the grandest and most cosmopolitan. From its doors, horse-drawn buses went to meet every arrival at the new train station, returning with visitors attracted to the town by its growing reputation as a place where world-weary spirits could recapture their appetite for life. In those days of unshaken faith in bracing breezes, cold sea bathing and fresh air, Thurso was regarded as an ideal recuperation centre. Once weekly the Royal sent its bus to Scabster to await the arrival of one of the North of Scotland and Orkney & Shetland Steam Navigation Company’s new steamships from Aberdeen. St Magnus, St Nicholas, St Clair, Queen, were the names adorning these ocean greyhounds, driven through the northern seas by steam-powered paddlewheels. Over a thousand vessels a year dropped anchor in Scrabster Roads, among them emigrant ships carrying Europe’s poor to new lives in America.
We walked around town which is very nice. Funny how you can tell from the subtle differences that this is a town with more Viking than Scottish heritage. Even the stone walls are different—here laid out the same on bottom but then pointy flat stones stacked against one another and placed vertically in a row on top. We were trying to find interesting things to explore, and I guess we looked lost for a lovely woman asked us where we were trying to go. She told us some interesting things to do and how to get there and was so nice to us. Her name was Katrine MacDonald, and I don’t know how we would have ever found St. Peter’s Kirk without her. She also told us that Thurso is famous for its surfing and championships are held here all the time.
AND we already have a launderette lined up for tomorrow as it was on the way. We walked down towards the harbour and found the kirk (church) with its graveyard. The ruins of the church are situated in the old part of Thurso adjacent to the river. Gilbert Murray, Bishop of Caithness, who died in 1245, founded this church in Thurso. The church and churchyard appear to be totally neglected and there is padlock on the gate, so we couldn’t even get in to explore.
The church, occupied as the parish church until 1832, appears to have had a part of it used as a courthouse and prison in the early 18th century and is now roofless although the walls are almost entire. A metal plaque at the gate in the South wall of the graveyard says that it was founded in 1220. The main window of the old church is carved from a single piece of stone and is thought to be the largest of its type in the world.
Evidently a Runic Inscribed Stone was discovered in the masonry of the tower wall of church and was removed. In the West wall of the burial ground was a tablet with the initials TW and GC with the date 1357. I just wish we could get inside.
I read up on Thurso and found that it was thought to get its name from the Norse Thor’s-a or river of the god Thor. Thurso was the site of a castle of the Norse Earls and a place trading with Scandinavia until the 12th century. Thurso is the most northerly town in Britain. Old Thurso, a group of fisherman’s houses on the east side of Thurso Bay, developed in the 17th and 18th centuries in a random street pattern, but the new town was laid out in a regular grid pattern by Sir John Sinclair in 1798.
Went to the Central Hotel Dining Room for dinner and Ray ordered the Big Don—a huge double-decker hamburger that I was sure he couldn’t finish, but he did. In for the night and trying to get the radiator to work, so we will see if we freeze like Popsicles overnight.
***pictures from top: Ray at Dunnet Head--the most northerly point in Britain, me getting blown away at Dunnet Head, beautiful tree near river with nesting birds, St. Peter’s Kirk showing the window, St. Peter’s Kirkyard (taken by standing on tiptoes and leaning over tall stone wall).
