Sort of Books, 2019, 253 p.

Jamie is known as a poet. She is, of course a former Scottish Makar.

This, though, is a prose work or, rather, twelve essays variously about her encounters with the natural world, the two architectural digs of which she has been part, and a trip to as near Tibet she could get. (Getting into Tibet itself would have been difficult at any time but as this coincided with the Tiananmen Square events, reaching Tibet was impossible. It also meant she and her companions were arrested for a short time.)

Her writing about the natural world shows a keen eye for detail; as you would expect from a poet. The account of her trip to China reads almost like a novella.

The first dig she visited was on the Pacific coast of Alaska at Quinhagak village, the dig site was called Nunallaq. The finds were shown to the community where the elders were (usually) able to recall their significance to their Yup’ik culture, giving the younger inhabitants a way to rediscover their traditions, which they were in danger of losing. Jamie’s sympathy with the locals and appreciation of the efforts of the archaeologists is evident.

The other dig was at the Links of Noltland in Orkney and had been ongoing for about ten years. However, time pressure was building as the funding from Historic Scotland (as was) was running out and unlikely to be renewed. And this on a site whose significance is seemingly as great or greater even than Skara Brae.

Curiously the locals weren’t too interested in the ancient remains since apparently Orcadians and Shetlanders identify with the Vikings rather than their much longer ago neolithic ancestors. Jamie quotes one of the archaeologists, “‘The Vikings “won”,’ said Hazel.’ …. ‘After the Vikings arrived, all traces of the older culture ceased. That’s what the archaeology is suggesting.’”

This is an engaging and informative work showing Jamie’s prose is as worth paying attention to as her poetry.

Pedant’s corner:- I have no idea why the title is not capitalised on the book’s cover and spine – nor indeed why the author’s name isn’t either. On the title page both are. Otherwise “Quanset hut” (I’ve previously only ever seen this spelled as ‘quonset’,) “‘kids from his village’” (‘kids from this village’ makes more sense.) “Posters went up the school and store” (Posters went in up the school and store,) “a wintery atmosphere” (wintry,) “and begin to speak” (the earlier part of the sentence was in the past tense so ‘began to speak’.) “Sat right there on their village wall” (Sitting, or Seated,) “sat on seats” (again: sitting; or seated,) “sprung up” (sprang up.) “He was laid on his bed” (he was lying on his bed,) “they were all glad for the diversion” (glad of the diversion.)

John Murray, 1992, 238 p.

The book’s title is a misnomer as only the first section, in which young Ranald Sigmundson stows away on Leif Erikson’s ship, is actually set in any way at all in that fertile countryside. Even that sojourn is fleeting since one of the Norsemen, Wolf, reacts violently in an encounter with the indigenous skraelings as a result of which good relations are never restored. Brown takes this chance to put into Leif Erikson’s mouth a speech about how the arrival of Europeans will spell doom for the natives.

The novel is the tale of Ranald’s life, taking in his prowess as a horseman winning a race in Greenland, the brief stop in Vinland, a trip to Norway where he meets King Olaf (proud of his self-appointed status as the bringer of Christianity to Orkney,) returning to Orkney before a trip to Ireland as part of Earl Sigurd’s campaign against Brian Boru at the Battle of Clontarf (a disaster for the Orcadians but also for Boru personally,) settling in his farm at Breckness. The final, valedictory, section is titled Tir-nan-og.

Much of the intrigue of the book is taken up with the internal duels of the sons of Earl Sigurd to rule in Orkney. A matter complicated by the fact that the supreme ruler is the King of Norway and he too wants his slice. Three of Sigurd’s sons hold the islands more or less equally, but one, Thorfinn, also has lands in Caithness and Sutherland for which he pays homage to the King of Scots. Feudal land inheritance was a nasty business.

If in the end he is neglectful of his wife Ragna, since he becomes ever more reclusive as the cares of the world wear on him, Ranald lives out his life as a good man. Brown has given us here a picture of life in the Viking world just this side of the cusp of Christianity. In human relations not much has changed since.

Pedant’s corner:- “the dice was loaded against him” (‘dice’ is the plural [of die], ‘the dice were’,) “laying less eggs” (fewer eggs.)

I spotted this War Memorial on the eastern side of Wick when we were returning from Orkney, so of course stopped to photograph it. It’s unusual in being topped by an urn.

Dedication – to the men of the Ackergill and Hempriggs Estate:-

Eastern aspect:-

Western aspect:-

On the trip back from St Margaret’s Hope to Scotland (which Orcadians, rather than ‘the mainland,’ call the nearest part of Britain – to them ‘the mainland’ is Orkney’s largest island) we passed the gun batteries on South Ronaldsay.

These are I think called the Hoxa Battery.

There were gun emplacements here in both World Wars to protect Scapa Flow. These remains have the look of World War two constructions.

In 2017 I photographed them from a bit further away.

St Margaret’s Hope was our last stop on Orkney as it was where we picked up the ferry for Gill’s Bay in Caithness. I mentioned it in 2017. Its War Memorial is in the form of a kilted soldier atop a tapering square plinth.

The front of the memorial is dedicated to the men of South Ronaldsay who fell in the Great War:-

War Memorial from rear:-

Word War 2 Dedication, on side of memorial:-

From the car park below Cuween Hill Chambered Cairn could be seen at the top of the hill what looked like standing stones.

After visiting the cairn we ascended the hill to the stones and discovered they were modern and made by stacking small slabs on one another:-

Close up on stacked stones. Bay of Firth in background:-

The interior of Cuween Hill Chambered Cairn is reasonably spacious with plenty of room to stand up and various side chambers. The first of these photos was taken with the good lady’s camera phone:-

End wall with chamber entrance:-

Roof:-

Cuween Hill Chambered Cairn, Orkney, lies on Cuween Hill, south of Finstown on a path off the Old Finstown Road.

There’s a small car park – about two cars worth – but then there’s a bit of a climb (though not far) to the cairn.

Cairn:-

Information board:-

Entrance. The access is restricted. You have to crawl or stoop very low to get through the passage though once inside you can stand up very easily:-

Entrance from inside:-

Stepping into the main buidling at Kirbuster Farm Museum is indeed like stepping into the past. It was inhabited up to the 1960s and opened as a museum in 1986 – the last unrestored ‘firehoose’ in Northen Europe.

We had wondered whether to visit this museum but it turned out to be extremely interesting. The guide was a lovely, chatty woman. We were the only people visiting at the time so she may have been lonely.

Main bedroom:-

Sitting room:-

The harmonium in the sitting room reminded me of the one in my great uncle’s house (he was a piano/music teacher and church organist):-

Wall mounted alarm clock:-

Box-bed in kitchen:-

Cruisie lamp:-

There was another building which contained loads of old farm equipment. Some of their uses were a bit mysterious:-

Part of the central portion of Orkney’s mainland is known by the name of Harray.

On the way up to Kirbuster Farm Museum we passed a local ceramic artist’s workshop and retail premises. The business’s name is obviously playing on a more widely known enterprise.