The day dawned nice and sunny, but that wasn't to last. I set forth at 8.45, with Paul joining me as far as the airfield, carrying his coffeemug with him. Jeez. The plane comes and goes. We pop into the waiting-room at the airport, where I put my waterproofs on. Paul returns to the hostel, whilst I continue to the coast. The rain starts gradually, intensifying as I go. After a lot of bother with fences near the seashore, I reach my first reference point, St Boniface Church, at 10 a.m. It is dedicated to a man who was murdered in 754 AD at Dokkum in Holland. Have a look at http://www.papawestray.co.uk/papay/pw_official6.html. The church was rebuilt by the local community and taken back into service in 1990. Very small but pleasant building. I leave with a certain reluctance, partially due to the awful weather. I carry on north and finally reach the perimeter fence of a nature reserve at the northern end of Papay. The birds left several weeks ago, and I find myself trudging a sodden moor. The coastline veers round to the east. As I'm holding a high contour, I'm not presented with awkward surprises. Reach the northern cape at 11.15 and proceed south. Encounter two people on my way past various geos and cliffs, finally regaining civilisation at 12.30. The rain is beginning to let off as I make my way south. Not quite sure whether to stay high up or low down, I stick to height. I end up getting zapped by an electric fence before regaining the road. Return to the hostel at lunchtime. Just before the hostel are the local school plus health centre. Behind the hostel, in the same building, is the shop. They open at 3 today, rather than the usual 2.30. Some of the island ladies complain bitterly, particularly as someone had to come from afar. Yep, this island measures 6 km north to south, longest road distance 4 km. Having obtained my shopping in the confined space of the shop, I walk round to the other side of the building. Gather up my stuff from the hostel and start walking towards the ferrypier. Only a few hundred yards outside Holland Farm, the hostel warden pulls alongside to offer me a lift to the pier. I arrive there at 4.15, a wee bit early. Golden Mariana appears at 5 o'clock, to take me back to Pierowall in the statutory 23 minutes. The connecting bus returns me to the ferryterminal at the far end of Westray. A chilly wind blows, so I wait on the bus for the ferry to turn up. Thereturn trip to Kirkwall is uneventful, and we reach the town before nightfall. I manage to get a place at the youth hostel. There are some unusual guests in. As I'm heating my food, a gentleman who looks like (and actually is) an American Indian lights the hob on the next stove. He takes out a handdrum, about 30 cm across, and holds it over the flames. Concerned, and inquisitive, I ask him why he is doing that. "Oh, the drum is very moist it I need to dry it". The man is a member of a large group of Canadian Cree Indians who have come to Orkney to investigate their roots. In the 19th century, groups of men from Orkney emigrated to Canada. Some of them married native girls and the descendants have come back now. They are decked outin full regalia, as part of the Kirkwall Science Festival this month. They give performances of traditional dances in venues around Kirkwall over the next 2 weeks. Meals are provided by local ladies who cook in the hostel kitchen. The group are nice enough, but a little inconsiderate. If they want to go out, they do so through the nearest door. Even it's alarmed. At 7 in the morning, they start to sing and beat their drums, to the annoyance of other hostellers.
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