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The Guardian - UK
The Guardian - UK
Environment
Cal Flyn

Country diary: A plucky band of riders wade into the waves

Riding of the Marches, Scapa beach, Kirkwall.
Riding of the Marches on Scapa beach, Kirkwall. Photograph: Doug Houghton/Alamy

August is the highlight of the agricultural calendar in Orkney. Many parishes and outlying islands host their summer shows before the county show in the capital, Kirkwall, rounds off the festivities in a grand finale, where the very glossiest cows, curliest-horned rams and fanciest ducks vie for champion titles.

The county show is a major local event – many shops, offices and cafes in the town close for the day (a sign on a glass door: “Gone to see the pretty coos”). But for the islands’ equestrians, it is but a warm-up for the eagerly awaited Riding of the Marches that takes place the following afternoon, when dozens of riders and horses – manes plaited and hooves oiled – gather in front of St Magnus’s cathedral before clattering through the town streets.

This year the parade was led by Gemma Leslie, from the nearby island of Shapinsay; she rode in a red silk sash while carrying a heavy banner bearing the town’s coat of arms. It’s a real honour to be elected “standard bearer” and to fill the role you need a reliable mount. Some horses have steadier nerves than others; last year, when I rode myself, my horse spent the whole three hours jogging up and down with excitement as I held on for dear life.

Still, there’s nothing like the sound of metal shoes on cobbles. The route zigzags through the outskirts of the town before dropping downhill to the gold-sand beach at Scapa. There, with wind battering the fields and a chill in the air, riders paused for a brief toast before they turned to the sea and asked their horses to wade through the waves.

The Riding of the Marches is a four-decade-old revival of a medieval practice in which officers on horseback inspect the boundaries of the royal borough. Longstanding variants of the same tradition take place in Edinburgh and throughout the Scottish Borders every year. There, the custom dates to a lawless period during the 13th and 14th centuries, when cross-border raids and cattle thievery were still common.

Orkney has had less trouble with reivers (rustlers), but I suppose you can never be too careful. The townsfolk of Kirkwall will sleep safe in their beds at night, all thanks to this plucky band of farmers, pony clubbers and happy hackers, I’m sure.

• Country diary is on Twitter/X at @gdncountrydiary

• Under the Changing Skies: The Best of the Guardian’s Country Diary, 2018-2024 (Guardian Faber) is published on 26 September; pre-order now at the guardianbookshop.com and get a 20% discount

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