Stone circles, Viking runes and spectacular Scottish seabirds
This article was first published in Explore magazine on November 8, 2025 (as the cover story) p14+15
As beach houses go, Thorfinn the Mighty’s is a cracker. Absolute waterfront. Views for miles. White-sand beaches. Great fishing. Sauna. The tide washes in twice a day to cover the causeway from the mainland, turning the location into a private island.
It’s spectacular, or at least it was 1,000 years ago. Only its stone foundations remain, partially overgrown by grass, but in its day it was a right royal residence. Perched on a speck of land called the Brough of Birsay, on the west coast of Scotland’s Orkney Islands, this was the power base of Earl Thorfinn. He ruled these islands, as well as nine earldoms on the Scottish mainland and much of Ireland.
Sitting on the grass in one of the former rooms of this seaside palace, I felt a powerful connection to my ancestors. Recently, when a DNA test came back peppered with markers from Scotland and Scandinavia, I discovered I am descended from Vikings. The Brough of Birsay was the perfect spot to channel my inner Viking.
“Orkney’s remarkably well-preserved archaeological and historical sites reflect over 5,000 years of human interaction with the island landscape. The islands have one of the highest concentrations of ancient sites in Europe and exciting new discoveries are continually being made.” orkney.com
After wandering through the remains of the settlement – including a space that once housed an ingenious sauna heated by beach pebbles – I headed up the slope to the cliffs. As I approached there was a crescendo of shrieks and cries. Orkney is one of the world’s most important seabird sanctuaries, with thousands of birds flocking here every spring to mate and to nurture their young.
Arriving on the clifftop was a bit like walking into a garden party in full swing. Everyone was there. Razorbills and kittiwakes hurled themselves off narrow ledges and shot down to skim along the tops of the waves. Puffins flew past sideways, looking wildly out of control and making comical, clumsy landings near their clifftops burrows.
“Towering sea cliffs are home to thousands of birds – puffins, guillemots, gulls, gannets and kittiwakes can all be seen here – while our marshlands and sweeping moorlands are natural habitats for the likes of curlew, red-throated divers, hen harriers and other birds of prey.” orkney.com
Shag chicks sat on nests like cossetted royal children, fed relentlessly by doting parents. Great skuas patrolled the scene menacingly, looking for food to steal, while gannets did their best kamikaze impressions, diving hundreds of feet straight down and smacking into the waves to catch fish.
Fulmars snuggled up together, appearing slightly aloof as they looked down on the mad antics of the others. On the wing, these are possibly the most majestic of all the Birsay residents. Within minutes of me dangling my feet over the cliff, a young fulmar swooped over my head and hung there on the breeze just a few feet away, as still as a drone. We watched each other until the bird was satisfied I was no threat and it soared away majestically.
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