Our ship anchored offshore in the Bay of Kirkwall, one of the two main towns in Scotland’s remote and windswept Orkney Islands. After tendering into the harbor aboard a small boat, I bypassed the charming medieval town center (very walkable and filled with local shops and history) because I had my sights set on somewhere a little more off the beaten path: St. Margaret’s Hope.
Locally known as “The Hope” (pronounced Hup), this picturesque village is the third-largest settlement in Orkney, trailing only Kirkwall and Stromness. Nestled on the island of South Ronaldsay, it is named after Saint Margaret of Scotland, the 11th-century queen consort of King Malcolm III. Known for her piety and kindness, Saint Margaret left such a mark on Scottish history that even remote communities like this one proudly carry her name.
To get there, I boarded a local bus for what turned out to be a wonderfully scenic ride. The route carried us south from Kirkwall on the Mainland over to Murray Island and finally South Ronaldsay, weaving across a series of causeways known as the Churchill Barriers. These narrow roads, built during World War II to block German U-boat access, now serve as vital links between the islands. And offer breathtaking views over the storied Scapa Flow.
This natural harbour, encircled by the Orkney Islands, holds one of the most dramatic stories of naval history. At the end of World War I, the defeated German fleet, interned here by the British, was scuttled on June 21, 1919, by its own commanders. In one of the largest mass sinkings ever recorded, over 70 German warships were deliberately sent to the seafloor to prevent them from falling into Allied hands. Even today, some of the wrecks are visible in the shallow waters, their rusting skeletons a silent reminder of a war’s bitter aftermath.
Upon arriving in St. Margaret’s Hope, I made my way up Back Road, a steep lane that climbs to a ridge above the village. The view from the top was picture-perfect: rows of whitewashed cottages, a serene harbour, and the vast sweep of Scapa Flow stretching out beyond.
After pausing to soak in the scenery, I stopped for a satisfying bowl of soup at Murray Arms, a cozy local inn and pub known for hearty island fare.
Before heading back, I ducked into The Smiddy Museum, a small heritage site housed in the old blacksmith’s forge. While modest in size, it tells the rich story of the local community, its maritime roots, and the craftsmanship that once sustained the village economy. It was the perfect final stop – intimate, authentic, and quietly resonant.
As I made my way back to Kirkwall, the late afternoon light danced on the surface of Scapa Flow, golden and still, belying the secrets lying beneath. My visit to The Hope was everything I had wished for: peaceful, scenic, steeped in history yet unspoiled by it. The quiet roads, the echoes of sunken warships, the welcoming pub staff, and the preserved stories inside the Smiddy all reminded me that even the most remote corners of the world have deep wells of memory, just waiting to be uncovered.
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