Before we left on our trip Mark looked into renting bicycles while on Orkney. He found a shop, Cycle Orkney, and they confirmed that there would be plenty of bikes for us to look at. We walked over on Friday and looked around the store. I ride a bike with a large frame, yet none were in stock so I settled for an extra-large frame. It was comfortable to ride–at first–yet I would later discover how much discomfort and numbness it would have on my intimate anatomy. My bike also had the squeakiest rear brakes I have ever used, and I feared I would shock all of Kirkwall every time I applied them. So for most of the time I applied only the front brakes, or if I had enough time I applied the rear brakes ever so slowly so as not to make a sound. Mark told me that I shouldn’t be so concerned about making noise at the sake of my own safety, so I hit the rear brakes as I needed them, no doubt causing many an Orcadian to shudder. The bike shop provided helmets, panniers, front and rear lights, and a cable lock. Rental cost was £45 each for three days. Here we are on the streets of Kirkwall:
It was disconcerting for me, an experienced and safe cyclist, to suddenly find myself riding on the other side of the road. I felt insecure and wondered if I might subconsciously ride over to the other side. I can genuinely say that it took me an entire day of riding to get used to it. We spent Friday riding around Kirkwall, which as the main urban centre was baptism by fire for my insecure cycling skills and I feared certain death each time I used a roundabout. We had two rural trips planned over the next couple of days which I knew would feel much safer with fewer cars and intersections to manoeuvre.
After we stopped off at the Lidl grocery store I had my only mishap. While I was attempting to lift my right leg over the frame I fell to the asphalt. I underestimated how high the top tube was on an extra-large frame and consequently toppled over. Granted, we had done some shopping and I had a full backpack and my pannier was clipped on the left side, so I was already unbalanced. I had just bought half a dozen eggs so I could boil them at the hostel and I worried that they might all be crushed, but thankfully none had broken.
We spent Saturday, September 21 riding to Stromness, on the west coast of the Mainland. We took the southern A964 going there, as it was a less busy road. The ride was calm and easy, without any strenuous hills. Fields of cows and sheep flanked the road. We rode without a break until we got to Orphir, which is 14 km southwest of Kirkwall. Our Orkney guidebook told us about the Orkneyinga Saga Centre, Earls Bu and round church, so we turned off the A964 and rode down Gyre Road. It was a long ride and I wondered if we missed a turnoff but kept on riding and eventually found the place. The tiny museum had wall panels and diagrams depicting the original Viking settlement and history. We walked to the cemetery and took photos at the remains of the round church, then headed on our way:
Gyre Road eventually rejoined the A964 then we turned briefly onto the A965. We took Howe Road into Stromness. I was happy to see the town before us as we had an easy coast downhill. We rode through the narrow streets but it got congested whenever we encountered pedestrians and cars. We locked up our bikes by the small harbour and explored the singular narrow road (below) named at various stretches John, Victoria, Dundas, or Alfred Street. Whenever we passed the legion (behind Mark) we always saw smokers puffing outside:
My Bradt guidebook raved about the bookstore Stromness Books and Prints yet when we got there a little after 12:30 the place was closed. The posted hours said that the shop opened at noon. We decided to come back later. After we rode past the museum we decided to pull in somewhere and have our lunch. It was getting cold and windy and we wanted to sit down, so we found a picnic table down a narrow lane that was adorned with numerous flowerpots and boxes, however most of the flowers in them were fake. We saw another pair of bikes by the table there yet there was apparently no one in the house. I think we squatted in someone’s private backyard. Here’s Mark by our bikes. The picnic table was just to the left of the bike with the red bag, around the corner of the house:
We visited the Stromness library and I explained to the two staff members who I was and why I loved Orcadian history. I went off to explore the archives in the George Mackay Brown Room upstairs and when I came back down one of the librarians gave me a red Orkney Library & Archive canvas bag. They were selling them for £10 each! I was so touched that they would give me one of their bags. They really are quite sturdy:
Back outside we saw that the bookstore had opened and went in. It was a tiny place, yet filled to the ceiling with bookshelves. Although there was a small stepladder I instead was able to stretch to reach the highest shelves, yet it wasn’t always easy. The whole bookstore appeared to be just one tiny room, and I wondered to myself if the owner had to shut shop in order to go out to use the bathroom. My guidebook gave the name of the store’s owner, Sheena Winter, and when I told her this–after greeting her by her name without any earlier introductions–she was quite surprised. She knew that a writer from Bradt had been in her store but didn’t think that he had identified her by name. Ms Winter even had two copies of the Bradt guide for sale in her store. I bought three books and some postcards:
We continued to pop in at various stores, and I found a large map of the Isle of Man that I got for Mark at a thrift store for only £1. Mark showed me some locally-made fudge he had bought, and I got some chocolate and chocolate/gin fudge for myself. The fudge is produced at the Argos Bakery on Cairston Road. We passed by the bakery on our rides in and out. We took our bikes on a tour of the town by the golf course. As you leave town and travel inland you go uphill, thus all roads into town are an easy descent.
We decided on our ride back to take a different route and rode along the A965. By now on a late Saturday afternoon that road would be less busy. It would also be a shorter route back to Kirkwall since it’s more of a direct route, versus travelling along the A964 which dips quite a bit to the south. I was happy to take this way back because it would give us a chance to see the Standing Stones of Stenness. Of the original twelve stones which stood in a circle, only four stand today. They date from Neolithic times, which is over five thousand years ago. The tallest one is 6 m high. I walked the circumference of the circle which was easy to do because the bases of all eight missing stones were visible, like grave markers that are flush with the earth.
We rode the rest of the way back without any stops yet after we passed Finstown I was in extreme discomfort. The extra-large bike frame was numbing my intimate area to such a degree that I couldn’t feel anything down there at all. Adjusting the level of my seat provided no relief, nor did changing my seating position. I tried to pedal with my rear end further back on the saddle, but got no relief. During my Kirkwall rides the previous day I never had this problem since our bike trips were short and we had frequent stops. I had noticed this numbness while on the way to Stromness. We were cycling for long stretches yet I experienced immediate relief after we stopped in Orphir. The ride back after Stenness afforded no opportunities for any safe temporary stops. There was no space to the left of the road to pull over as the grass was so narrow and the road was lined with a barrier. The numbness by now had developed into pain and I lagged behind Mark as he pedalled ahead. I could not get his attention by yelling or ringing my bell, so I had to plod ahead. I saw a fork in the road at Grainshore and felt that Mark would probably stop there, which he did. When I got off the bike my groin was in effect paralyzed. I had to stop and walk with my bike for a bit until I could regain a sense of feeling. I am living proof how important it is to have the proper size bike. I don’t think that the shape of the seat was the issue, although seat styles have evolved to help men feel more comfortable. In all the decades of cycling I have done at home and abroad, I had never experienced this, so I am inclined to believe that the numbness was due to my body trying to adapt itself to an oversize bike and the repositioning I had to adopt in order to reach the pedals. In retrospect I regard this cycling trip to Stromness and Stenness as the highlight of our Scottish vacation, but I was so pleased when it was over.