Et in Orcadia ego: Tuesday 9 July
When your pilot friend tells you that he and his partner are flying to Orkney for a week and the back seat is spare if you want it, you say yes!
Even having to present myself at Denham Airfield near Uxbridge for 7:30am so I could earn my passage by helping to fetch and carry things could not dampen my enthusiasm. David, Naomi and I took off around an hour later and, incredibly, a couple of hours after that we were stopping in windy Glasgow to fuel the aircraft and eat our lunchtime sandwiches in an airfield Portakabin.
We had spent the journey up dodging showers, which bring turbulence, at one point climbing to 14,000 feet to keep above the clouds, only to descend when the water flowing across the wings and cockpit began to freeze. As we flew north, the weather brightened, so Orkney greeted us as patches of verdigris, green among turquoise. Descending, we could see the waves breaking on coastlines as intricate as Slartibartfast's fjords.
We landed at Lamb Holm International Airport, a grass strip on a tiny island. Before we'd even taxied to a stop I had seen a strange bird I didn't recognise (these turned out to be oystercatchers, and ubiquitous), and I exclaimed at the beauty of this place we'd arrived into.
"Oh, this is just the beginning," promised Naomi.
Even having to present myself at Denham Airfield near Uxbridge for 7:30am so I could earn my passage by helping to fetch and carry things could not dampen my enthusiasm. David, Naomi and I took off around an hour later and, incredibly, a couple of hours after that we were stopping in windy Glasgow to fuel the aircraft and eat our lunchtime sandwiches in an airfield Portakabin.
We had spent the journey up dodging showers, which bring turbulence, at one point climbing to 14,000 feet to keep above the clouds, only to descend when the water flowing across the wings and cockpit began to freeze. As we flew north, the weather brightened, so Orkney greeted us as patches of verdigris, green among turquoise. Descending, we could see the waves breaking on coastlines as intricate as Slartibartfast's fjords.
We landed at Lamb Holm International Airport, a grass strip on a tiny island. Before we'd even taxied to a stop I had seen a strange bird I didn't recognise (these turned out to be oystercatchers, and ubiquitous), and I exclaimed at the beauty of this place we'd arrived into.
"Oh, this is just the beginning," promised Naomi.
