Caithness Holiday Day 4: Duncansby Head and Stacks

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Ignoring the previous post about offensive misuse of woodland, my fourth day of the holiday started out pretty well, with a trip to John o’Groats – awful tourist-trap of a place but at least they’ve renovated the hotel since I was last there and the ice-cream (2 scoops) was excellent. 

  • The famous hotel at John o’Groats. I’m pleased to see it’s had a much-needed renovation since I was last there. A total tourist-dump, but at least one of the shops offers rather good icecream on a sunny day.
  • The famous hotel at John o’Groats. I’m pleased to see it’s had a much-needed renovation since I was last there. A total tourist-dump, but at least one of the shops offers rather good icecream on a sunny day.
  • A ferry waiting in the harbour at John o’Groats
  • A ferry waiting in the harbour at John o’Groats

The sea stacks themselves are pretty awesome to behold, middle red sandstone showing evidence of having formerly been attached to the land but eroded away by the sea.

We proceeded to Duncansby Head – ignoring the lighthouse, walking down the coastline to the sea stacks. On the way, a large group – maybe 60 folks – were crowding some of the cliff-tops looking south, watching a small pod of Orcas swimming off distant headlands. Unfortunately the one kind of lens I didn’t have with me then was a long zoom – but the shouts of joy when one of the orcas blew or jumped were incredible.

  • The far north-east corner of Scotland – subtle haze looking south into the light through the mist. As I shot this from a well-known viewpoint, there was a crowd of approximately 60 humans around, all watching a herd of orcas swimming off the far headland.
  • The far north-east corner of Scotland – subtle haze looking south into the light through the mist. As I shot this from a well-known viewpoint, there was a crowd of approximately 60 humans around, all watching a herd of orcas swimming off the far headland.
  • Coastline around the far north-east corner of Scotland:
  • Coastline around the far north-east corner of Scotland:
  • A better angle on the stacks – with the sun bright due south at noon, I walked further down the coast beyond them and looked back up north instead.
  • A better angle on the stacks – with the sun bright due south at noon, I walked further down the coast beyond them and looked back up north instead.

On the way back, a disturbance in the water just away from the cliffs caught my eye: a peculiar kind of standing wave with the shape staying more or less constant. Obviously a conflict of two tides, one running along the north coast between the mainland and Orkney, the other flowing up the North Sea; on checking wikipedia later, that corner of the Pentland Firth is known for two tidal races, the “Duncansby Race” and the “Boars of Duncansby”. 

Wave interference – a standing wave pattern at the eastern end of the Pentland Firth – a tidal race as the east/west and north/south currents conflict around Duncansby Head. I’m not sure if this is the Duncansby Race or even the Boars of Duncansby, but it caught my eye as I was heading back up the coast.

An Invasion of Silver Boxes

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An Invasion of Silver Boxes

It’s a bright sunny bank-holiday weekend, which means only one thing.

Of five approaching cars at which I waved, only one young yet surprisingly dour-looking passenger waved back.

Visiting vehicles are easily identified by how caravans clog-up the roads, how cars perform 3-point turns in the mouths of T-junctions.

Avoiding eye-contact becomes the norm, as does the body-language of shying-away from Dog when passing on the pavement. Instead, out come the silver insulated food bags that bring their suburban life to us, their chilled packet contents probably bought from the perceived safety of a generic supermarket en route rather than in one of the local shops.

It speaks of an indifference to the existing social networks within the village being invaded, a separation of us versus the self-centred them.

I do not see merit in the argument that tourism is good for the local economy. It might seem to be, in a short-sighted fashion; but when all visitors see is each other and perceive landscape as pretty, its shallowness does not compare to the depth and quality of soul that comes from involving oneself in committing one’s life and work to a place.