Thurso, back on mainland of Scotland

Strong cold headwind, damp and uncomfortable too, as I rode west from Kirkwall toward the ferry in Stromness by way of a cluster of famous Neolithic sites. The barrow Maes Howe is 5,000 years old, older than the pyramids; the amazing interior burial chamber was plundered by 12th century Vikings who left curious rune graffiti.

Close by is the Ring of Brognar, large broken henge.

But it was too cold and windy to go on to Skara Brea, the buried village in the dunes, would have been a miserable visit at such an exposed site.
On to Stromness to wait in a cafe for late afternoon ferry. Big ferry still swayed in the strong currents back to Scotland, going by the cliffs of Hoy.

To Thurso, and a real dump of a hostel I had reserved, filthy, crowded, no bottom bunks left, no place to store bike under cover. I fume, go around corner to hotel restaurant, book a single room there while enjoying dinner and couple of bitters, swallowing the 18 pounds paid for the hostel but feeling much better, thank you. Too old to rough it I guess.