Lud at first sight
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AFTER a few futile weekends of coast-watching – searching for whales and finding none – I decided to turn my back on the sea and head inland.
My objective was the Stone Lud, an ancient standing stone in the centre of Caithness that has a special place in the county’s Norse heritage. I’d never seen it before, so I hoped it would be easy enough to find and reasonably accessible.
The roundabout route I had chosen would take me from Wick in the east to Dunnet Bay and Castletown in the north, so it was a coast-to-coast ride – but with the focal point very much in the middle.
I set off early from Wick, heading out the A99 to the north of the town in brilliant sunshine under a bright blue sky. It was surprisingly cool for summer, though, and after a couple of miles I stopped to put my gloves on. I felt like a real softie for doing so – but it really was that nippy!
Turning right at Reiss (towards John O’Groats), I had to shield my eyes from the glare of the sun reflecting on Sinclair’s Bay. I took a left towards Lyth, passing Loch of Wester, and was now on one of my favourite Caithness byways. This is proper countryside: thick hedgerows, clumps of wild flowers growing at the roadside, a quaint stone bridge over a peaty burn and, best of all, hardly any traffic.
At the Lyth crossroads you can turn down towards Hastigrow for a shorter return trip to Wick, but today I was continuing north-west. A buzzard rose from a field and glided along parallel to me for a couple of hundred yards, then at Moss of Greenland I paused to admire a bog pool resembling a mini Flow Country.
Greenland (no, not the Arctic Circle one) is where the Lyth/Reaster road joins National Cycle Network Route 1 and here I veered left towards Castletown. An oystercatcher sitting on a wall seemed quite content to pose for a photo.
A right turn took me through the former Thurdistoft airfield, which served as RAF Castletown during World War II. Hurricane and Spitfire squadrons were based here and some of the old air force buildings still survive amid the farmland.
I emerged onto the A836 – part of the North Coast 500 route, and noticeably busier with cars – but rather than turn left into Castletown I decided to go a couple of miles in the other direction and have a short walk in Dunnet Forest. Rain came on as I got back on the bike, but it proved to be a short-lived shower and the sun was shining again when I pulled in behind the beach and strolled up the dunes for panoramic views towards Castletown and Dwarwick Head.
Entering Castletown, I turned right onto the minor road at the beach car park and followed it round past Castlehill harbour – once the site of a major flagstone quarrying and exporting operation employing hundreds of people. The harbour is a tranquil spot now, but just round the corner the Castlehill Heritage Centre and the adjacent flagstone trail offer a reminder of the area’s industrial past.
I bought a pork pie for later from the village butcher (well, I deserved a treat) and headed south-east on the B876. Reaching Bower, I turned right and went up past the school and church before coming to the Bowertower turn-off. I was getting off the beaten track now.
Eventually I came to a renovated croft house. From my map, I reckoned this was the closest property to the Stone Lud so I did the courteous thing and knocked on the door.
I could hear dogs somewhere, but there seemed to be no-one at home so I walked on past some outbuildings and caravans – and there it was at the far end of a fenced-off field.
The Stone Lud is closely associated with the death of a 10th-century Orkney earl, Ljot Thorfinnsson. There is a legend that it is Ljot’s burial place, although the stone itself (originally one of a pair, apparently) seems to predate the Norse period.
Another theory is that this was where Ljot died of wounds he sustained in a battle against the Scots at a place called Skida Mire, some six miles to the south-west. On the other hand, the Orkneyinga Saga suggests that Ljot had returned to the islands before succumbing to his injuries.
It’s a bit of an enigma, in other words. All we really know is that the Stone Lud belongs to the dim and distant past and is somehow connected to the demise of Earl Ljot.
The lichen-covered monolith is about two-and-a-half metres high, leaning at a slight angle, and surrounded by boggy ground (it was impossible to avoid getting my feet wet). Whatever its history, the relic is an impressive sight. After taking a few pictures I felt a vague, semi-mystical impulse to lay my right hand across the stone’s rugged surface. Not that it was revealing any secrets.
I went back to collect the bike – still there was no-one around at the croft – and soon rejoined the Bower road, climbing to the Brabsterdorran crossroads where a well-kept war memorial is a prominent landmark. A left turn here took me on to North Watten and Gersa, then a sharp right led down to the B874. This is the Sibster road, another of my favourites, giving half a dozen easy miles of peace and solitude before it merges into the A99 on the outskirts of Wick.
There was one last stop, though. I left the bike at a farm gate and strolled across a field to the Altimarlach memorial, just for the opportunity to take some new photos of it. The Celtic cross marks the site of a clan battle – reputedly the last of its kind in Scotland – which took place here on the banks of the Wick River in 1680.
But of course that’s recent history compared with the mysterious origins of the Stone Lud...
