Northern Sights At John O’groats
Willie Shand admires the stunning views from the edge of the Scottish mainland.
STANDING above the harbour at John O’groats, it’s hard to believe we’re just 30 miles further from the North Pole than southern Greenland.
It’s hard, too, to appreciate that the six-anda-half-mile-wide stretch of water between us and Orkney is one of the most dangerous in the world.
The Pentland Firth has the power to make even the most experienced sailors turn pale with terror.
Such fear has caused vessels to take long detours north of Orkney or even around the south of England.
On a calm day like today, with hardly a breath of wind, even a land-lubber like me might be tempted to cross the Firth.
There’s long been a passenger ferry operating between here and South Ronaldsay in Orkney.
Indeed, if tradition be true, it’s from that connection that John O’groats won its name.
Apparently, in the 15th century, a Dutchman by the name of Jan de Groot arrived here with his two brothers, Malcolm and Gavin.
King James IV had granted them a charter to operate a ferry to Orkney.
Time has removed all trace of Jan’s old house.
All that remains is a grassy mound crowned with a much photographed multi-directional sign.
One of the sign’s arms points to Land’s End in the south of Cornwall.
These are the two furthest apart points on the UK mainland.
With many a sponsored charity event linking the two, one is rarely mentioned without the other.
Modern roads make light work of the route between them.
But in 1898 for John Sturmey, what a great challenge it must have been tackling it in his four-horsepower Daimler.
No-one had attempted the drive before.
Contrary to popular belief, John O’groats is not the most northerly point on the mainland.
That distinction goes to Dunnet Head some 10 miles to the west.
Built by Robert Stevenson in 1831, Dunnet Head Lighthouse stands at the very edge of sheer cliffs over 300 feet above the sea.
When the Firth is in a violent mood it’s even been known for rocks to have been thrown through the window!
You’ll encounter some of the world’s largest and deadliest whirlpools in the Pentland Firth – like the Wells of Swona or the Swelkie of Stroma.
Along with the help of the tormented waters of the Men of Mey and Boars of Duncansby, the Firth has sucked down countless vessels and their crews never to be seen again.
Apparently, it’s thanks to the Swelkie that all the world’s seas and oceans are salt water and not fresh water.
It’s said that several millennia ago, there existed a magical mill that could produce anything – gold, silver, diamonds . . .
Naturally, such a valuable mill attracted attention. Then it was stolen.
The thief sailed off with it and, thinking himself in the clear, stopped off at Stroma for a bite to eat.
The food, however, lacked a little salt to his taste.
After a while, it dawned on him he could just ask the mill to make some salt.
He gave the order and the wheels started to turn.
Sure enough, out came the salt.
He then realised he didn’t know the command for the mill to stop.
The mill kept churning out salt until his boat sank under the weight and, by all accounts, the mill wheel is still turning today, creating the giant whirlpool and filling the oceans with salt.
Jan and his brothers must have had quite stout hearts to establish a ferry over these waters.
But a profitable affair it turned out to be and, as the family grew, there was eventually eight of them in the business.
They never forgot the
anniversary of their enterprise. Each year, the eight would get together to celebrate and to discuss business.
Inevitably, these meetings led to arguments as each thought themselves more important than the other.
Who should sit at the head of the table?
Old Jan decided to resolve the issue before they next met – and a clever idea he had, too.
He built an octagonal room with each side having its own door.
Inside, he placed an octagonal table.
That way, each member could enter by their own door and no-one could claim to sit in a more important place at the table over the others.
From the site of the old house, we can look out beyond the harbour to the island of Stroma.
Despite being only two miles long by one mile wide, this island once supported more than 200 people.
It was abandoned, though, in the 1950s.
I once had the offer to visit Stroma, but the thought of crossing the Boars in a flat-bottomed boat lessened the appeal!
Out to the north-east, on a clear day we can also see the light of the much smaller Pentland Skerries.
Not for no reason did sailors nickname the narrow passage at the eastern end of the Firth “Hell’s Mouth”.
On several occasions, the light-keepers risked life and limb to help rescue survivors from shipwrecks.
In 1965, when the Kathe Niederkirchner went down, were it not for the keeper’s bravery in rescuing their
stricken lifeboat, 50 souls would undoubtedly have perished.
The keepers may have risen to the demanding job, but not everyone employed on the island was as conscientious.
Transporting provisions from the supply boat to the lighthouse was the job of the island’s donkey.
The donkey appears to have been a bit psychic, as every time a boat was due, he would sneak off and hide in some inaccessible part of the island.
Although often stormy, and with little shelter from hills or trees, this far north-east tip of the mainland can enjoy some lovely weather when further south might be wet and miserable.
And, in summer, these fine days are even more special, as at this northern latitude there’s virtually no darkness.
Being as flat as a pancake, Caithness couldn’t present a greater contrast to the mountains and sea lochs of the north-west, but it does have a few aces up its sleeve.
It has some wonderful and awe-inspiring coastal scenery – none more spectacular than at Duncansby Head and the Stacks of Duncansby.
Every cliff, cave and stack has its name – like the Glupe, Humlies Hole, the Knee and Gibb’s Craig.
The cliff ledges are home to thousands of squabbling sea birds, their cries echoing around the hard rock.
You’ll find gannets, cormorants, fulmars, skuas, guillemots, gulls and even puffins.
Springtime is a fantastic time to visit.
The three stacks of Duncansby are amazing.
There’s the Muckle Stack at around 300 feet high, the Peedie Stack and Tom Thumb.
It’s not all high cliffs, though.
Midway between John O’groats pier and
Duncansby Head, a walk round the coast takes us past a few lovely beaches.
There are the white sands of Sannick and those below the Ness, which are ideal spots for a quiet picnic.
I always enjoy walking along beaches gathering all sorts of flotsam and jetsam.
Out this way there’s something else worth keeping watch for – the wee cowrie shells known as
“Groatie Buckies”.
The pale pink and white shells are only around half an inch long, with a narrow slit along one side.
The best time to look for them is when the tide is on the ebb.
If you find one, and they’re not that easy to find, then it’s sure to bring you good luck.
And who couldn’t do with a bit of that!