I decided to make the most of the calm weather and lack of swell and planned a big trip for myself. Setting out from Stromness I paddled all the way round Hoy and back to Stromness again, a total of 62km.
Setting out I managed to get a little tidal assistance through Clestrain Sound and Bring Deeps, passing the islands of Cava, Rysa Little, Fara, Flotta and Switha to reach the eastern most point at Cantick Head. There were numerous reminders of the importance of this area during wartime with gun emplacements positioned to keep the unwanted out of Scapa Flow.
I stopped for lunch at a small inlet where overhanging cliffs meant I could shelter from the rain. It had been raining on and off ever since I set out and by now I was getting a bit fed up of hood up, hood down, hood up, hood down etc. etc.
From South Walls I sat on a roller coaster of big round green waves, shoving me faster and faster towards Torr Ness. The next section of coastline was a committing stretch of high cliffs, hollow with caves and deep geos. A rock stack, called the needle towered above me as I paddle round its base, my neck aching from staring skywards for so long. The geo nearby was so deep that it was dark at the back, the walls green and slimy. As I paddled past, the rocks were alternately bright red and yellow, with the occasional streak of green, where freshwater trickled down from above.
As I approached Rackwick the wind funnelled through the valley caught me by surprise and it was as much as I could do to paddle across the bay. In my mind I was going through the possible contingencies including stopping for the night, but after a short while on the beach, the wind died down and I felt able to continue.
At Rora Head I was again hit by the wind, but this time it was head on, and was to continue for the rest of the trip, sometimes strong enough to prevent forward progress at all. Having been spoiled by the beauty of the cliffs further south, I was a little underwhelmed by the cliffs around the Old Man of Hoy.
All that remained was a long slog against the wind until Hoy Sound, which I reached just after it had turned in my favour. The final stint into Stromness was straightforward, and I reached my start point some 9 ½ hours after setting out.
Once under the cliffs of Black Craig the fun started. There were caves everywhere.
Some were so deep I needed a torch. Unfortunately I didn't have one so exploration was done in the dark. The booming sound of the swell hitting the distant recesses of the cave was quite eerie
Inside the caves the rock appeared bright pink, with tiny yellow barnacles.
We came across a cave, just above sea level that was blowing the most amazing spumes of spray with every swell. Mary and I had a little game to see how close we could get.
There were more caves, these ones at North Gaulton.
And this is North Gaulton Castle, one of many spectacular stacks along our route.
After lunch, perched on a rock ledge at the base of another stack at Yesnaby, Mary led us into a cave. From the outside it looked just like any of the other caves we had already explored. Perhaps the confidence with which she plunged into the darkness should have told us that this one was different.
Round the corner we could make out daylight coming from a rock window. The light made the water look emerald green.
This inconspicuous bit of dry stone wall is in fact the remnants of an ancient building, the 'Broch of Borwick'. Presumably when it was built it was a little further from the sea. It has however been standing for around 2500 years. I wonder how many buildings that are going up now will last that long?
This is Ramnageo, a huge cleft in the cliffs. Shags were perched on every rock ledge as we paddled in, soon to dive underwater and turn from ungainly land birds to sleek underwater torpedoes. The water was so clear we could see them swimming along under our boats.
This photo is taken from Yettna Geo, another great abbyss in the cliffs, this time with a huge cave in the depths. The word Yettna is from the Norse word for Giant. The booming of swells in the depths of the cave made such strange noises that it is easily conceivable that people may heve believed giants to heve resided within
This trip had one little sting in the tail. Approaching our landing beach at Skara Brae, we were exposed to the full force of the easterly wind. Here's Mary just rounding the final headland, complete with hole in the rocks. 
Here's a route trace from the GPS. Every time we went in the caves the GPS has had to manage with few or no satellites and has come up with some wild guesses as to where we were. They may look extraordinary but may not actually be far off the mark. Some of the caves were huge.
And then looked over the cliff top and found this little chappie. I think it is a fulmar chick. It didn't appreciate having its photo taken and made vallant attempts to regurgitate yukky stuff at us, like the adult birds do, but hadn't quite mastered the tecnique. We were spared the smelliness that is fulmar oil.
A little further along the cliff top I found a spot that was obviously a favorite for a bird of prey. There were numerous regurgitated pellets, many of which still had the legs of the poor unfortunate bird that had been the meal attached. I've included the radio in the picture to give an idea of size. I'm not sure what bird can eat things this big, but I'm wondering if it is a sea eagle.
Paddling away from Copinsay we found hundreds of grey seals basking on the exposed rocks. Unfortunately one had got its head stuck in a loop of old fishing netting and was slowly garotting itself to death. It was clearly not happy as it didn't jump in the sea as we approached, so Mary and I landed to see if there was anything we could do. It didn't work, we got to within 5 metres of it before it shuffled off the rock and swam away. I hate to think of it dying a slow death but it was obviously not sick enough to let us help it.
