Ireland, or _Ayre-land_, as it once was, sloping gently downwards to its bay, lies at our feet, a patchwork of farms and fields in varying tints of green and yellow and brown. Beyond it, the picturesque “western capital,” Stromness, fringes its landlocked harbour, secure in the shelter of the protecting hills behind. To the left lies Graemsay with its lighthouses, an “emerald set in a sapphire sea,” and beyond it the frowning cliffs and the purple ridge of Hoy dominate the scene. Away towards the west the horizon line, more than thirty miles distant as we now see it, cuts sharp and straight against the soft blue sky. If we have a good glass, we may make out on this line, just above the town of Stromness, the Stack of Suleskerry. [Illustration: _Stromness from the east._] But our day’s ride is yet mostly before us, so we descend from the Ward or “watch-tower,” mount our bicycles, regain the main road, and continue our way through the smiling landscape which lies in front of us. Orphir was an important district in the old Norse days, and a residence of the Orkney Earls stood on the seashore near the parish church; and adjoining that church may still be seen part of a much earlier church, one of the few circular temples in this country which were built in the time of the Crusades on the model of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem. In the little cove sheltered by the Head and the Holm of Houton, some of King Hakon’s ships found shelter during the winter after the battle of Largs, while the king himself lay dying in the ancient palace at Kirkwall. [Illustration: _Ruins of circular church, Orphir._] After a particularly stiff ride over Scorriedale, we enter upon a long and somewhat uninteresting stretch of road through Clestran and Ireland, and at last reach the main road from Kirkwall to Stromness, close to the Bridge of Waith, which crosses the narrow strait between the Loch of Stenness and the sea. We can see just above this bridge the traces of a still older one, and the name Waith probably indicates that this was originally a “wading-place” or ford at low tide. But we are not to cross the bridge to-day; we turn back towards Kirkwall to complete our tour of the Central Mainland. The road runs along the side of the loch, through the pretty district of Clouston, and past the comfortable hotel which has been erected there for the convenience of such summer visitors as are attracted by the trout-fishing of the loch. The largest trout ever seen was caught in the Loch of Stenness, and if the proverb is true that “there are as good fish in the sea as ever came out of it,” the same may yet be proved true of this loch.