‘The word “sea” is small and easily uttered.

They utter it lightly who know least about it.’

The Sea, George Mackay Brown

Some see John O’Groats as the destination, the end of the line, the place where the land of the ancient island that they call Britain runs out. But for me it is merely a port, the place from which the adventure begins. You can catch a ferry here that will take you on – over the treacherous Pentland Firth, past the abandoned places, to the ancient Norse island that the Orcadians call home. Orkney is one of those places that only cruise ships seem to visit; here one day and gone the next. People do not journey this far North and when they do the cold and rain drives them back to warmer climes. Yet, each person who does visit comes away with a glazed expression of wonder in their eyes. ‘The sky!’ they exclaim when you mention that you have been there. Certainly, it is the sky that remains in the memory – vast and bright it seems to belong to another world. This is a place of sea, and sky, and history, where the past is master and the water mistress and the locals are hardy yet softly spoken. A postcard from the turbulent shores of this archipelago may read ‘weather is terrible, archaeology is amazing, wish you were here’. But, what does that really convey? How can a photograph hope to capture a place with so much historical significance and so much magic in the air?

Orkney is somewhere from which peace seems to radiate and the pace of life seeps into your bones. Before you realise, you become used to the empty roads, wildflower meadows and sea everywhere you turn. The only sounds are the birds – oystercatchers, arctic terns, curlews, ravens… In the fields you see hares, on the verges of the town hedgehogs, on the shore seals. Everywhere you turn, nature thrives beneath the endless bright skies and everywhere you walk, there is another historical site to stumble upon. There is a beauty here that is hard to capture, but also a harsh reality.

 The weather is perpetually cold, requiring woollen jumpers even in mid August. During the winter the days are only lit up by the Northern Lights dancing across the skies. While many have spent the summer revelling in the newest trends, here the towns may seem drab in their shades of grey, beneath the stormy rain clouds. Caught between Norway and the Highlands, this is not the location of an aesthetic ‘coastal grandma’ daydream. And yet, perhaps because of this, it feels so much more real. Here, there is no fashion high street beyond the one catering to the tourists, so what you wear becomes irrelevant. The locals dress for practicality in an assortment of mismatched clothing that reflect upon the casual and practical attitude of the families that have survived here for centuries.

Am I yet conveying the feeling that when you step off the ferry it is as though you have entered an alternate reality? This is a place of magic and mystery where the past and present seem to mingle in the cultural practices and traditions of the communities. The very fabric of existence is woven with countless historical events that still hold sway over the people today. Somehow, the world has stood still here. The quiet towns and silent roads seem ageless. Yet, modernity has left its mark . In every carpark an electric point can be found. Almost every house,particularly outside the small towns and on the smaller islands, has its own windmill. This treeless island appears to have embraced the best things from our modern age, while maintaining firm roots in the past. A past which could best be described as a 1950s society surrounded by a prehistoric landscape.

Prehistory is in fact the reason that the tourists make the journey to these remote islands. Every bump in the landscape is said to hold archaeology.  It would take an eternity to uncover all of the secrets these islands have to offer. For now, the focus on the Mainland remains upon an area named Brodgar. Here you can find the sites that make Orkney famous: The Ring of Brodgar, Maes Howe, The Stones of Stenness and The Ness of Brodgar. This spit of land, surrounded by lochs, is what makes the isle seem mystical. There are no words to describe the feel of the sun setting above the Ring of Brodgar or the emotion from another time that seems to seep from the very stones. There is an overwhelmingly visceral sense of connection to our ancestors that even the most sceptical can’t help but feel.

But to suggest that these islands are caught in a web of Prehistory from which they have never advanced would be a lie. The 20th century has also left its mark, for it is here that Kitchener died, here that the German fleet of the First World War was scuttled, here that Second World War Italian prisoners built barricades to protect the British fleet from U-Boats. While visiting the Prehistory that has shaped the Orcadian landscape, a tourist is almost within spitting distance from where the HMS Hampshire lies. This is just one amongst the countless ships that litter the seabed around the Orkney coasts. But, that is easy to say and not so easy to comprehend. The waters are choppy, but standing on the Birsay headland there is no suggestion of what lies beneath the water. It is only in journeying to Scapa Flow that comprehension dawns. Many will tell you that there was a mass salvaging mission following the First World War and the ships scuttled there became scrap. However, as you come around the bend on Holm island and descend towards the Churchill Barriers, the elephant’s graveyard of ships is enough to take your breath away. The sight of what remains is both eerie and awe-inspiring… and you drive straight past them! The islands of Holm and South Ronaldsay are only connected to the Mainland by concrete barriers, which take you over the choppy waters of the Pentland Firth (‘drivers cross at their own risk’). From the waters beside you, pieces of hull and mast rear up out of the water like Poseidon’s horses, sometimes barely visible beneath the high tide and sometimes revealed as almost complete ships.

Such a beautiful and historical place is not one that can be compressed onto a single postcard. There is no way to truly explain what makes this place special. All that can really be done is to describe it in the hope that you may be inspired to visit it yourself. Breathe in the peace and salt water air, see the history and meet the people – these are the small grains of magic that create the islands. The islands that poet and author George Mackay Brown spent a lifetime attempting to capture.