When you think you are as far north as you can go in Scotland, there’s always another set of islands. And another. We take a day trip to Orkney, driving the car onto the ferry and across to the main island. There’s around 70 of various sizes and habitation. Orkney’s got a bit of everything: prehistoric sites, Viking history, WW2 sites, and breathtaking landscapes. And generally inclement weather, though the sun blesses us, eventually, for our trip. The ferry trip is an easy one and a half hours from Scrabster, west of Thurso to the port of Stromness.

Our guide, Dave, meets us off the ferry while we are still musing about the Dog Lounge, and wondering if it’s something New Zealand’s Interislander might care to adopt.

Dave jumps in the back of our car and starts guiding, directing us first to Skara Brae. This is a village built 5,000 years ago, but undiscovered until 1850, when a big (bigger than usual) storm blew the deep sand away, proving that while Orkney’s weather might ruin your picnic, it can be quite handy for archaeology. The group of dwellings are kind of intact – it’s a bit like Pompeii without the murals. Picture a bunch of Neolithic farmers, cosying up around a central fire in stone homes that feature built-in furniture. These prehistoric Orcadians made sideboards and cupboards that have a longer life than an IKEA bookshelf.

Continuing along the Neolithic highway we arrive at the Ring of Brodgar, aka Stonehenge without as many tourists.  A stone circle, surprise, around 4000 years old, where you can ponder life’s big questions – like how the hell did they drag those stones up there. Any why? A bus tour departs as we arrive and we have the stones to ourselves. I search within for the meaning of life, or the urge to wear a flower crown and dance around the stones, but nothing surfaces.

Nearby, in a smaller area than Brodgar, the Standing Stones of Stenness another ring of racks, loom very large. Archaeologists think the stones were part of a larger ceremonial complex, but we find they’re an excellent windbreak.

A more modern and much more charming surprise is the Italian Chapel. Now as a recovering Catholic I am not drawn to houses of worship, but this wee church is a gem. In World War II, Italian prisoners of war performed a small miracle, transforming two Nissen huts into a masterpiece of devotion that would not be out of place in a low rent version of Grand Designs. It just shows that by begging, borrowing and possibly stealing materials to recycle, in the middle of a dreary peat bog you can have a little slice of home. The chapel is full of intricate paintings, and ingenious use of recycled or surplus materials, such as the altar and altar rail, constructed from concrete left over from work on the barriers – more on these soon.

Most of the interior decoration was done by Domenico Chiocchetti, a prisoner from northern Italy. He painted the sanctuary end of the chapel and fellow prisoners decorated the entire interior. They created a facade out of concrete, concealing the shape of the hut and making the building look like a church. The light holders were made out of corned beef tins, so corned beef is of some use. The baptismal font was made from the inside of a car exhaust covered in a layer of concrete. Chiocchetti returned to assist with the refurbishment of the Chapel in 1960.

To get to the Chapel Dave guides us over the first of the Churchill Barriers. The what? I hear you ask. I’ll try and make it brief, but go to google for more info. In both WW1 and WW2 Scapa Flow, a large bay in Orkney, was the Royal Navy’s crucial base and stronghold in the north. After a German submarine famously slipped into Scapa Flow in 1939 and sank the battleship HMS Royal Oak, Churchill decided it was time to plug the gaps – literally. He orders the building of barriers, a series of causeways made of old sunken ships, sandbags, rocks, and concrete blocks, stretching across the gaps between small islands. A testament to Churchill’s unique ability to find a silver lining, or in this case, a concrete one, the barriers would also serve as causeways connecting the Orkney Islands like some kind of WWII-era public works project. Turning a strategic vulnerability into a seaside civil engineering project: genius, though one that would not meet environmental standards today.

The barriers are now popular dive sites, if you like your water close to hypothermic, as are the German submarines, sunk here after the German defeat.

The day ends with us farewelling Dave, off to his other job, his farm, and another calm trip across the North Atlantic. I have new knowledge to take away, never having heard of most of the places we enjoyed. It’s true, travel broadens the mind, though I suspect the Italians would rather have stayed home.

PS – Some of you may be confused but this is not written in real time – we have not returned to Scotland.