Taking The Road Unknown

There can be no doubt about Orkney’s historic and prehistoric heritage. All over the islands you are confronted by brown tourist signs pointing to places with exciting names like “Skara Brae” and “Ring of Brodgar”. But there’s one Orkney treasure you will not find on a signpost: in fact you’re doing well if you find it at all.
Four miles from Stromness on the main road which tears through Orkney, is a crossroads indicating left to the “Heart of Neolithic Orkney”, but unsigned in the opposite direction is a living landmark, far newer but equally cherished: Happy Valley.
For love of exploration, I chose this road. It passed kit-built houses, an Orcadian favourite as they’re warm and windproof, before I saw a small parking area and a dense cluster of trees. Perhaps this doesn’t seem noteworthy but on Orkney fierce gales rip up the roots of timber giants, yet here, with a burn emerging at either end, was a stretch of trees.
Firmly applying the handbrake – more from the wind than the gradient, for this reclusive spot was at the base of a hill – I stepped into the sunny afternoon. A few steps revealed a low building with archaic machinery around it and a gate at the side. Curiosity may have killed the cat but I couldn’t heed the warning as I stepped into the garden.
My first impression was that I’d stepped into the past but this place was timeless, with its well-tended lawn, towering trees and flowering borders. Despite being alone, I could feel eyes on me; not frightening or judgemental but companionable; the gaze of all those before as though each visitor over the years had left a residue of soul that waited to greet others.
The further I ventured, the more I became like Carroll’s Alice, falling into an enchantment. Beyond the lawn the burn was captured, but never tamed, by paths, a weir and an asymmetric waterfall. The waterfall is an iconic image in artwork sold to tourists, though most will never see it in reality. Steps took the path to new heights, guarded by stone fairies that collect a toll from visitors. Seconds turned to minutes; minutes to hours and, although this dream stretched less than 700 feet along the burn, I was lost in the endless forest of my imagination.
It’s safe to say I returned to the small car park not *quite* the same person as when I arrived. I couldn’t believe this place was unknown but I remain so pleased I chose to take the road right.
(Incidentally, the next day I took the conventional road to the “Heart of Neolithic Orkney”.)