A glimpse of a sail slipping out of the bay the skipper judging the local waters to catch the oot race the rushing ebb tide that will grab him and allow him to ride it like a galloping horse all the way round the island to Birsay should he wish. From there he can catch the wind to make the dash to Shetland or work his way over to Norway as our forefathers did.

The local boat, the Orkney Yole wide beamed and shallow of draft they are clinker built and had almost died out on our islands. Thankfully an association has been formed to preserve and promote the yole and the first new built one in about a century was completed in if I remember rightly 2008.

Thought to have been brought to us by our Viking ancestors they were ideal for transporting people and goods between the islands. They are small by modern standards but could carry a considerable load because of their stability. Two of Dauvit's uncles were renowned builders not only for their own small island but also throughout the north isles it is also thought they were the last north isles builders to carry on the tradition.

Watching the sail disappear round the point of Ness I smile. Lilly the first of the new generation of Orkney Yole epitomises all that I love about my island the quiet sense of continuity. Yesterday, today and tomorrow, tilling, planting, reaping onward we move generation to generation yet our men still go to sea and our women still show their treasured possessions on the sideboard as our ancestors at Skara brae did.