Flying to Orkney

Last weekend, I went to Orkney. No, honestly I did. She, who claims to never leave home, has not only had a night in the Scottish Borders sleeping under canvas, but also 3 days in the land of Ork. I flew from Edinburgh on Friday morning and 1 hour and 15 minutes later I landed at Kirkwall. I’m not saying that the aircraft was small, but whenever I turned the page of my Horse & Hound magazine I inadvertently bumped the Pilot’s elbow. The Cabin Crew was one lady who served a complimentary cup of Tea or Coffee with a Tunnocks Caramel Wafer; whilst the aircraft was still climbing. And I mean, really climbing. Had Margaret forgotten to put the brakes on, her trolley would have slid all the way to the tail in a nano-second. 

I have felt more safe in my life, than when we approached Kirkwall. It was windy. Not madly windy, but enough to be moving the plane in all directions as we saw the runway underneath us. And when you do touch down at Kirkwall, make sure you have a tight grip on your rosary beads as they apply the brakes with all of their might. Apparently it’s a short runway and I wish that my host for the weekend had informed me of this once I was safely back in Edinburgh. My host (The Foreign Secretary) also laughed when I regaled her with details of the scary approach to landing. She cheerfully reported that it was only scary landing at Kirkwall when you look out of the aircraft window and are looking straight down the runway. I.e. the wind is so strong that they have to bring the plane down to land on a 45 degree angle; otherwise the wind would blow the aircraft over when it touched down. Again, hearing this when I was safely back in Edinburgh would have been more helpful.

The “Terminal” Building was something of a shock too, although I should have been more prepared considering that Air Traffic Control was a man with a Megaphone shouting “Get out of the bloody Way”. You walk in a door and there you are. You’ve arrived. No hunting for the baggage carousel because it’s right there on your left and your welcoming committee is standing in front of you. And it’s lovely. How wonderful to be able to walk from the plane, grab your bag and go. Brilliant. And the check in process (Aside from the bloody Jobsworth who scanned my handbag and decided that it still needed to be searched, although to be fair, he was only 12.) is a breeze. Your flight is called, you walk through a door, through security, which apart from the Jobsworth was a pleasant experience, then you enter another airy room where you can stand and watch the men refuelling your plane that is the size of a shoebox. And when the lady who is Cabin Crew pulls up the steps she calls to the gentleman who has loaded the hold, “Thanks Tom, see you later” and slams the door shut. It’s like getting the bus. It really is like getting the bus and I suppose to the Orcadians who use it all the time, it is just as simple as a bus to them.

I was going to carry on this post and tell you about my sight seeing but I’ve changed my mind and will do that in another post, because frankly, Orkney warrants it. I left Kirkwall at 4.10 on Sunday afternoon and was home by 7.45pm.

By Monday evening I was ready to go back.

One thing I will tell you is that I didn’t get to see the Italian Chapel that was built by Italian prisoners of war. Apparently the Chapel is one of the most visited attractions on Orkney. So there’s only one thing for it, I’ll have to go back. Damn it.

Flybe, operated by the Scottish company Logan Air, fly 2 to 3 times a day to Orkney from Edinburgh, they also have flights from Glasgow, Inverness and Aberdeen.