Here at Keldaby we raise the beautiful, gentle and shyly friendly angora goats that provide Moonshine Design with the cloudsoft and highly lustrous mohair used in our fine selection of hand dyed, hand woven goods. Wrap yourself in a throw, toss a scarf or shawl around your shoulders or luxuriate in our fabulous ruanas. Step back to a more romantic era in a Western Isles hood. Discover the magic of mohair socks dyed in every color of the rainbow.
There are whitecaps on the harbor and we don’t rush to go out today. There’s plenty of knitting and I finish reading The Outrun by Amy Liptrot on my Kindle.
It had been published in the US (and delivered to my Kindle) just hours before we left for Orkney. She is Orcadian and although she doesn’t quite feel native (her parents were in-comers), she returns to Orkney when her London life is no longer sustainable and certainly not enjoyable. It’s a nature book, and an excellent one, as well as a memoir of a tough personal battle. Part of her story takes place on Papa Westray, the tiny, far northern Orkney island where she counts bird species for a couple of years. Papay, as it is mostly called, is where our good friend Liz Sorensen https://sheepandshawl.com/ and her partner John Nove own a restored croft (which, by the way, they rent out as a self-catering cottage when they’re not in residence.) https://www.papawestray.co.uk/papay/peatwell.html
There are many reviews of the book; here’s a link to the NY Times.
In The Outrun the author mentions Yesnaby, noting that it is a place known for suicide. Now, that’s intriguing. We have also learned from Fiona that it is the site of extremely old fossils and she recommends a short walk along the beach.
So after lunch we head north toward the coast. We find the cliffs, park and start to get out of the car.The wind is so strong that when Michael opens his door it very nearly blows off. There is an abandoned building, vaguely threatening and unsafe looking, and broken glass scattered among the rocks. Clearly this is a place also to go with buddies to seriously drink. The sky is lowering and the wind nearly rips our jackets off. We beach comb a bit, finding some fossils, but no one seems eager to attempt a walk along the beach. This is too bad, as I now know from reading all the online references, because we also miss the Yesnaby “Castle”, a sea stack, similar to the “old man of Hoy” which, clearly, we are not going to get to this time either. For a detailed description of the geology, go to this link:
We go back to the cottage and Jill and Jen go beach combing above the cemetery in Warbeth. Jen finds a few cowries. Michael plaits Lynn’s hair into an obsessively detailed fishtail braid
and then he makes his “cozy chicken,” a dish he cooked for us three years ago. I have taken a good slug of cough medicine and am really sleepy.
After dinner Jill and Jen head downstairs and I wish I could say the rest of us had a wonderful evening. We didn’t…
I took a wonderfully hot shower last night–nothing unusual, the showers in the cottage are wonderful. But…when I went to wash my face this morning there was NO hot water. I let it run a long time; it got colder. Downstairs Jen was making coffee, I gave her the bad news. We took turns trying the faucets; perhaps someone will have the magic touch? Nope. It’s time for another email to Rosemary.
Oh well, we can’t let this little glitch stop us because this is Maeshowe day for Jen, and for Jill who has decided to go with her. The rest of us remember our visit last time, an amazing site where we had an excellent guide, and we feel it would be tempting fate to go again. We make a quick trip up to the Woolshed to buy some more of the North Ronaldsay yarn, both beautifully dyed and natural colored.
Back in Stenness we learn the next available tour is at 1 o’clock so Jill and Jen buy their tickets and we browse the little gift shop in the visitor center, not as extensive as the one in the former location.
Yes, Lynn could have bought this fetchingly lovely helmet
While they go on the tour Michael takes a walk and Lynn and I sit in the car and knit.
When they return from the burial cairn we all head back for lunch. Now our road is closed not only at our end but down by the Stromness Hotel as well. At #18 there is still no hot water or message from Rosemary. Fortified, however, with our sandwiches (notice I can’t even say BLTs anymore!) we all head to Kirkwall. Jill has an appointment for a massage which she is eagerly awaiting, Jen goes to the Earl’s and Bishop’s Palaces, both Renaissance buildings near the cathedral and both in ruins now, Lynn and I go shopping together, especially to a couple of consignment shops on a search for luggage, and Michael, on his own, buys a vest. We meet at Judith Glue’s for our requisite afternoon cappuccinos and scones.
Now the gods are really frowning; what have we done to offend them, what can we do to appease them? Back at the cottage there is still no hot water. There is an email from Rosemary saying that the water heater has been switched back on and all is fixed. Sadly, our nerves are beginning to fray. Another email goes to Rosemary from whom there are no more responses today. Jen makes dinner using various leftovers, I heat water so I can wash the accumulation of dishes (thank goodness for a really fast electric teapot!) and then we eat sitting in the front room. (It’s not the front room really but the enclosed porch with the great views onto the harbor.)
When Michael disappears to his room to emerge an hour later with his laptop, we figure he has been editing photos which he plans to show us, but no, he has written an email to Rosemary which he proceeds to read aloud. It lists every deficiency, as he sees it, going back to 2014, and we, aghast, tell him, no, no! If he is hellbent on sending this he must make it very clear that it is his and his alone. Jen and Jill sensing the coming storm wisely retire downstairs. To his credit he does disappear again, returning with a somewhat softened version. However, Lynn and I reiterate: It’s yours, Michael. Make that clear.
We don’t play Spite and Malice and the cold, which I have been pretending I didn’t have, is much worse. Tomorrow will be better!
We awake to another cold, grey day in a cold, unheated, cold-water house by the North Sea. What do we expect? This isn’t the Mediterranean nor the Caribbean! While we drink our excellent coffee, Michael gives us his latest version of “the letter,” this time direct from his laptop in a computer-generated voice. Ouch!
But help arrives in the welcome form of Jason Scott with the full plumbing crew! He tells us that he had come yesterday and re-set the heater and now suspects that the reason it isn’t working again is clogged pipes because of the road work. We suspect this is not the first, nor will it be the last, time for many of the houses along the main street.
We tell him that we are on our way to the Italian Chapel in Burray and he tells us that he got married at the chapel last year. This, he tells us, is appropriate as his name was originally Scotti. We just want to hug him because he’s cute and because we won’t have to resort to more cold sponge baths!
Michael stays home again and we four drive to Cuween Hill, the neolithic burial cairn we visited before where Michael regaled us with part of an aria.
Up the hill from the burial cairn
On a sign it says there is another cairn nearby so after going into this one we try to find the other. We drive up some pretty sketchy roads, get a good view of the sea, but can’t find it.
We’re off to the Italian Chapel at Lamb Holm (two Nissen huts set end to end) with its amazing trompe l’oeil interior designed by the Italian prisoner-of-war Domenico Chiocchetti and built by the POWs brought there to help construct the Churchill Barriers (good photos of the Barriers at this link.) The link will give you the story–truly an inspiring one. There are many videos on Youtube. My dad would have loved it.
Next we continue on to So Ronaldsay in hopes of finding a necklace Jen lost the day we went to the Tomb of the Eagles. No luck at the Hoxa Gallery nor at the Workshop and Loft Gallery so we decide to have a late lunch at Robertson’s, the cafe Jen and Jill had found previously. It’s a lovely high-ceilinged bar and coffeehouse but our waitress is totally devoid of personality. When one of us orders an appetizer and others a main course and one a dessert only, the food is brought in that order so we eat in shifts as it were. When we ask why she says, “Oh no, we don’t serve the main at the same time as the starters!” How silly of us to have expected such an outlandish request. Nor was she able to package the dessert to go.
Robertson’s.
Note Lynn’s latest hat with runes. It says Hamnavoe
Jen and Jill do a bit of beach combing near the Barriers on the way home; Jen is determined to find cowrie shells. Another stop at Tesco and then it’s back to the cottage and heat and hot water! Lynn makes chili for dinner after which it’s Spite and Malice, knitting and TV watching (dreadful real estate programs endlessly showing effusive realtors and couples looking at and rejecting various houses.)
Awake this morning to a much windier, greyer and colder Stromness. Michael’s cold is worse so he opts out of any planned trips. We start out with the idea that we should buy tickets to Maeshowe for later in the week, Tuesday perhaps, although we aren’t at all sure whether we really want to revisit this neolithic burial mound. Of course Jen needs to see it but we have pretty vivid memories of the place and the stories that accompany it.
Tickets are no longer sold on site–the old mill that housed a small museum and gift shop as well as ticket window has been closed– and we know there is no point going to the visitors’ centre near Stenness because tickets can only be purchased ahead of time online (and we don’t want to use credit cards if we don’t need to) or by chance just before a tour begins. This seems pretty crazy but there you are. Can’t argue with inflexible rules.
So off we go to Dounby where we hear there is a tag sale in the local school. We arrive there at 10:30 and are told it doesn’t open until noon. Well, we say, let’s go to Corrigall Farm: Ha! that doesn’t open until noon either.
Lynn and I had both bought beautiful painted silk scarves at a gallery not listed as part of the Crafts Trail back in 2014 so we decide to go see if we can find it again. We are quite sure it was just a mile or two up the road from Kirbister Farm. It’s not there anymore–or we have somehow gotten ourselves in the wrong place. There is nothing to do but return to #18 for a quick lunch and hope that the afternoon will prove more fruitful.
Back in Dounby at 2 o’clock we find that the tag sale is now over; there are just a few stragglers packing up their wares. Oh, says one, you should have come in at 10:30! Ahh…
It’s off to Corrigall again where our guide Sue takes us through all the buildings and we learn a lot more about peat and peat-burning.
It is obvious that indeed yes, Puss the beguiling cat, is no more. The place seems a bit empty without him.
We mention the rhubarb that is growing near the house and ask where we might find some growing wild. Sue picks us an armful and off we head to Kirkwall.
It’s time for cappuccinos and scones with clotted cream and jam at Judith Glue’s.
They have no clotted cream today! We settle for whipped cream; it’s not the same. Cold and wind-whipped we decide to go home where we while away the rest of the afternoon knitting.
Pretty soon the delicious smell of tonight’s (Lynn’s) lamb stew which has been slow cooking all day in the crock pot draws us to the table for dinner. It’s the high point of this rather dismal day. More knitting and then we’re all off to an early bedtime.
We’re doing well. No hour-long deep sleep to awaken wondering what day it was, not like last time when we had to call the desk to ask. We know it’s Saturday and we’re ready to hit the road! We order the full Orkney breakfast minus the haigis, a mistake as it turns out to be really good and spicy, and black sausage. Still it’s a full plate of fried tomatoes, good Scottish bacon, eggs, toast, fruit and coffee. The car repacked we head to Dounby where we learn that there will be a performance today of something called Sea Hames and that it will happen at noon at the Corrigal Farm Museum. Not so, it will be at the other farm museum, in Kirbister, and then with trepidation we ask whether Puss the very friendly tuxedo cat who was sixteen when we met him is still alive. He is not. During the winter he had curled up in a favorite place one evening and simply gone to sleep. We are told that he has left many many offspring and that he can’t and therefore won’t be replaced.
. Puss in 2014
We drive north to Kirbister and revisit this wonderful example of a three hundred year old farm. Michael hadn’t been with us before and of course Jen hasn’t seen it. A peat fire is burning in the open hearth in the kitchen, the smoke more or less rising up to the lum. We meet Tom Muir author of The Mermaid Bride and Orkney Folk Tales.
The wind has picked up and it is cold. At noon the performance begins–magical in its perfect setting. First the four musicians slowly emerge from one of the stone buildings followed by the four “horses” and a ninth figure, we’re not sure who he is meant to represent, The costumes are fantastic, the pace is slow, the music and singing seem both ancient and modern, the story is about two Clydesdales who jumped a fence in 1984 and danced on the beach at Billia Croo. This is from their website: Sea Hames – Dancing Horses:
Sea Hames is the latest outdoor performance project from leading site specific theatre company Oceanallover. Inspired by ‘The Festival of the Horse and Boys’ Ploughing Match’ this multi-disciplinary performance fuses sonic composition, compelling performance and intricate costume to explore the mythology and iconography of horse, plough and the sea.
…They stood up on their hind hooves and danced in the low mid-summer sun. This project begins with those two horses and the sea; about freedom and creativity, the persistence of memory, tradition and innovation, attention to detail and wild brush-strokes. The rituals of horse, land and sea inspire the visual poetry of ‘Sea Hames’ and the choreography responds to sources of natural power and green spaces as a stimulus to frame the performances.
Back in Dounby we stop at the Dounby Butcher and buy meat for a couple of meals and plenty of the delicious local bacon for our BLTs we have all been pining for and then visit Alison Moore’s studio. Lynn and I had each bought a set of her rings four years ago and now we decide we each need to add a moonstone ring to our sets.
My rings before adding the moonstone
Our final stop before heading to our stone cottage is the Co-op where we buy all the necessities for several days. (We’ve set up our kitties: one for food, petrol and sites where we all want to go and one, mine and Michael’s, for wine and beer. Jen and Jill buy their own beer.) Jen makes her first foray up the main street with its five different names totally unfazed by the narrowness of this two-way street and we arrive at 18 South End.
.Harbor view
We’re in for a bit of a surprise. Number 4 South End (2014) had a large but cozy living room and fireplace where we sat knitting every evening; #18 has a narrow enclosed porch with a view out onto the harbor. (Yes, we will come to appreciate that view!) The lower suite is indeed separate from the rest of the house as described but with no interior connection; this takes us aback. Jill and Jen agree to claim it as theirs. The large dining room in #4 is replaced by a larger eat-in kitchen which needs rearranging to accommodate the five of us. And worst of all an odor, more than faintly reminiscent of sewage, pervades the lower suite. Opening the windows helps…some, but now it’s cold and turning on the heaters just exacerbates the smell. A frantic email to Rosemary (the owner who lives in South Africa) ensues. After we’ve all calmed down some and chosen our rooms–Michael has the first floor en suite room, Lynn and I each has a bedroom on the second floor with our own bathroom–and we’ve stashed all our baggage and provisions, we do begin to be charmed by our cottage. The kitchen has everything one could ever want including a complete supply of spices and herbs, table settings for a dozen diners, pots, pans, griddles, mixing bowls; toaster, microwave, convection oven which ironically we will never use (the oven didn’t work in #4 probably because we had failed to switch on the electric socket it was plugged into!), coffee maker, dishwasher, washer, dryer and an impressive array of teas, instant coffees and various condiments. Jen makes Shepherd’s Pie for dinner. Thus ends our first real day in Stromness. More tomorrow including how Verizon managed to screw up my only communication back home to Bob!
Before the wedding Geoffrey had told me that their intention behind the small wedding and the several days in Montecito was to give our two families a time to really get to know one another and that there would be time later, after their honeymoon in England, for the newlyweds to hold a big party for all their friends. What a wonderful sentiment, what a brilliant idea and how well executed! Thank you, Nica and Geoff, because meeting my consuegros Alicia and Peter was indeed a highlight of the summer and I hope we get together again soon! Alicia and Peter were in the throes of moving to a newly purchased home in Merida, Yucatan. The tales of bringing in all their belongings from Florida through the Mexican customs, the post midnight delivery of their furniture, the bureaucratic snafu because Peter wore shorts, all these stories had us laughing night after night.
We also met some of Alicia’s family, her half-sister Margi and husband Hector, her nieces Cammy and Erica, and Margi’s mother whose name (four letters long of which two were u’s) I can’t quite remember
Geoff and his girls! I love, love this picture!
The day after the wedding we took a tour bus about an hour’s drive north to visit three vineyards near Solvang. I think we were all somewhat done in by the previous day’s festivities. The first wine tasting was fun, the whites were crisp, the rose really good and I tried at least one of the reds. Monica had arranged to have delicious box lunches for us there and that was a lot of fun.
This is one of the Sears kit houses that was delivered by train and assembled
By the second vineyard we all seemed a bit drained and the vote was to skip the third and head back to our vacation paradise so we could relax and enjoy our last full day there.
Sunday morning was devoted to packing, cleaning up which meant following all the many rules listed for leaving the house in tip-top shape–filling the five dishwashers, doing laundry, carrying out the bags of trash, putting away all the pool and lawn equipment, etc, etc– as we had to be out by 10 o’clock that morning. There was a little time for a few last-minute activities. Those who hadn’t tried the trampoline did so now. And there were a few wistful moments by the pool.
We arrived in LA in time for a brunch of Cuban pastries, sweet and savory, from Portos, a bakery which does for LA what Juniors does for Brooklyn, fried plantains, fresh fruit and good strong coffee at Margi and Hector’s home. Hector owns three restaurants in Hollywood; needless to say, the plantains were the best I’ve ever eaten! The temperature was a mere 104…but dry!
Back in Carlsbad, however, I finally got to elaborate on my tenuous connection with Alicia and her family, the Manduleys, which I had mentioned a couple of times during the week. Alicia was born in Holguin, Cuba, in the Oriente province near Camaguey and my great uncle “Charlie”…Charles Muecke…had lived in Holguin back during the Spanish-American War and then again later until his death in the late ’40s. For many years I was in possession of the book he had written late in the 1920s called Patria y Libertad. I had sent the book to Geoffrey as soon as I felt that he and Monica were a real couple in the hopes that perhaps she would translate more of it than my mother had.
When I showed the book to Alicia and Peter they were really excited and Peter immediately became immersed in it . I knew that Uncle Charlie had been sent to a military school on Long Island at the time his sisters (my grandmother and great aunt) were sent to boarding school in Lausanne, Switzerland, when the family was moving from Germany to NYC. I knew also that Uncle Charlie was a munitions expert, knew about blowing up bridges, had been granted some land in Mexico by Pancho Villa and was generally considered the black sheep of the family. I knew that his wife had moved back to New Jersey (she was from one of the Patterson silk families) after a bullet had ricocheted through their casa in Holguin one night. Of course, he is the family member I am most interested in! How could one not be?
Now I learned that he truly had fought with the Cubans, not with the Americans, and that his book was a long refutation of all the biased press coverage in the US newspapers, which dismissed the Cuban forces as basically irrelevant, and a detailed journal of his life at the turn of the century. And according to an article about him in the online magazine CubaNow, there is still a neighborhood in Camaguey called La Mosca which was the name of his farm! (If you have gotten to this blog through Facebook you will find the link there.)
So this brings us pretty much to the end of the wedding and all its ramifications. A walk through the San Diego Botanical Gardens (formerly Quail Garden), a bit of window shopping in Encinitas, a great last dinner at a wine bar and restaurant that makes its own wines (muchas gracias, Alicia y Peter) and the next morning we all headed our separate ways….for now.
If you remember from earlier Orkney posts, I had brought back a Harray Potter quaich to celebrate the blending of our families during this week of festivity.
I had bought a bottle of Bowmore single malt, a mildly peaty, smokey, salty scotch from Islay, an addition to my luggage which meant I had to go back through the whole security thing again because of course I had to check my luggage through. That first evening after we had eaten our fill of Chinese take-away and emptied a couple of bottles of wine I suggested that we have the quaich ceremony while we were just family and just getting to know each other. Geoff and Monica had already told me that they had planned a similar ritual using wine during the wedding…seemed a good idea not to try to do both at the same time!
Bottle and quaich were brought out, the scotch was poured, the bride and groom presented it to each other, then each passed the bowl to their future in-laws with many a slainte pronounced. After this, conversations flowed easily and friendship was assured!
Thursday the yardsmen were there all day tidying up the already pristine environment. Lawns were mown, every stray leaf and fallen petal whisked away, every fading palm frond removed. Shero…oh, I haven’t mentioned Shero, have I…had to be kept inside because dogs were forbidden although a wedding without her was inconceivable.
Geoff and Monica’s friends began arriving, the barbecues were fired up and delicious food set out. Shero got to go outside again and chase the squirrels and cottontails,
which made her a happier pooch.
Friday morning all Monica’s friends pitched in taking her theme of green and white, burlap and leather, and created the elegant table settings that Martha S. herself could not have improved upon.
Chris was the main architect of this beautiful setting
The guys went off on a bike ride up the coast
Some of us sat around and just enjoyed the beautiful day, some took a dip in the pool,
the photographer, the “officiant” and the guitarist arrived.
The bride arrived back from the hair salon and at 3:30 we gathered on the lawn. The officiant Miriam introduced us four parents with descriptions gleaned from conversations with Monica and Geoffrey in a manner that suggested a fortuneteller “And you, Cynthia, are a free spirit, aren’t you?” was one, then asked me to repeat the quaich ceremony (I had been desperately trying to fashion a gracefully casual presentation after learning that this was to replace the earlier plan to use wine); fortunately I have no photos of this episode!) and finally married the two of them with Isabelle and Christian as ring bearers.
The reception and hors d’oeuvres over, we then, with many toasts, most notably Peter’s and Isabelle’s, sat down to an excellent dinner.
followed by dessert…the cake, a basil-lemon flavored one, so good (and fabulous cupcakes as well)
The rest of this amazing week will have to wait until the next post!
So, I’m sitting here trying to think of a good way to begin my post about a wedding but I have suddenly become protector of a sweet little gray kitten who, I hope, is only starving, not sick and who has extra toes. For a couple of days we have been putting out food for a pair of kittens Bob saw near the barn and the food has been eaten. Perhaps it is the other one who has indulged while this one has been starving. That at least is my current theory and based on that I have brought her in, made a bed, given her milk and the juice from a can of catfood and a small litter box. She drank a bit of milk…she is not that young, perhaps 10 or 12 weeks…and is now purring slightly, nestled on my lap. She certainly does not appear to be feral. That was established when our animal-loving mail lady drove up to the house to say that a kitten was huddled by the road, that she had stopped and petted her and was alarmed by her gaunt little body and weakness. What is her story I wonder, our little Shadow ?
But the wedding… I first met Monica two years ago and was instantly taken with her, very classy, very warm and completely down to earth. She was on her way to Singapore and we only had an hour at a San Diego coffee house and a quick stop at her apartment to pick up her luggage before she left. Later I asked my son Geoffrey “Is this for real?” And he said “I hope so!” She seemed already to be a great friend with my grandkids and they with her; a good sign.
Then last summer Geoffrey, Monica, Isabelle and Christian spent a week at Keldaby and despite the insane temperatures and stupefying humidity, everyone seemed to have a good time.
This was followed by a trip to Merida, Yucatan, where Geoffrey met her Mom Alicia and step Dad Peter; all went well. Engagement followed and then a move into a house just steps from the beach in Carlsbad and soon I was flying off to California for the wedding. Bob didn’t come which is too bad as he would have had a tremendous time, but there are far too many home responsibilities and besides he claims to hate traveling anyway A small wedding was planned but a long celebration where the two families could spend time getting to know one another. Geoff, Monica, Izzy and Christian, my ex Kring and I left Carlsbad way before dawn and headed north to Santa Barbara where they had rented a vacation home in Montecito for four nights. We couldn’t get in until mid afternoon so spent the morning in town, eating breakfast and most importantly picking up the marriage license at the City Hall. which is elaborately Spanish in style with painted ceilings, tiled floors, a century-old clock. and bell tower from which all of Santa Barbara can be seen
.
Each of its four vistas was occupied by an artist or two painting the views of town and country, distant hills and courtyard gardens. Christian and Kring went off to check out the old mission, Geoffrey went to see that the flowers had been delivered to the house we would be staying at, Izzy and I went in and out of shops and Monica went to the hairdresser she had found online and had a trial styling.
At 3:30 we drove into our perfect Sea Ranch, settled into our various suites, exclaimed over the attention to all the amenities of a vacation home; to name but a few: I think we counted 14 TVs, at least 5 fire pits, at least 5 and a half baths, a pool with every piece of equipment one could want…one corner sectioned off as a hot tub with jets, a bocce court, a ground level trampoline, badminton, and croquet gear, bicycles, a fully equipped kitchen with four, count ’em, dishwashers, a laundry room. The list goes on and on. I have never spent so much time in so much luxury!
Later in the afternoon Alicia and Peter arrived from their flight up from Merida. But this is enough for a first post!! The wedding will follow
A kettle hangs above the peat fire
