Moving to Orkney is a bit more challenging than the average relocation.
It's not easy shifting your entire household to an island. Additional challenges arise if you're moving to Orkney from outside of the UK.
Most people would agree, the decision to relocate to the Orkney Islands not one to be made on a whim.
The question is, is it worth it?
It's an inflammatory question - completely unfair and subjective. But I'm just going to go ahead and say yes.
All those surveys naming Orkney as the best ... most romantic ... happiest people ... they're true. Orkney is the best place in the UK to live.
At least for me. As of this writing I'm three years into my adventure, and I'm still enthused. There's so much more to learn and enjoy for the first time.
The most important question is: would moving to Orkney be a good decision for you?
I'm enlisting the help of expatriate friends willing to share their stories about moving to Orkney and their experiences of everyday life in Orkney.
I hope these stories will inform you, helping you to explore your options.
We'll discuss these topics and more:
In addition, I'll curate the advice of people who have lived in Orkney at some point in time and have since moved elsewhere.
Together, we'll try to provide some helpful guidelines for moving to Orkney and offer tips for negotiating life on a Scottish island.
To explore the possibility of starting a new life in Orkney, please purchase my ebook, Moving to Orkney.
* Please note, it's only in ebook format at this time.
I'm no expert, but I have managed to survive the complicated move from America to Orkney, the hubbub of visa renewals, successfully sat Life in the UK test and got a UK driver's license ... so I know it's possible.
I was 49 years old and had raised four children on my own. I'd worked myself ragged during some very hard years. My kids were all launched into their life adventures.
I felt that I deserved one, too.
I decided to visit the beautiful Scottish islands that I'd dreamed of for so long.
Orkney had long been a secret whisper in my heart, encouraging me in the hard years, not allowing me to give up. I'd never traveled beyond Florida, but I knew I had to do this for myself.
I began to make plans, which included contacting a man who'd helped me to research a book long years before - Tom Muir.
As before, Tom was kind and helpful. We soon found ourselves corresponding more than was strictly necessary to plan my trip.
At some point, we decided it was easier to Skype. Then we were talking every night. It wasn't long before we realized that we had to be together.
Neither Tom nor I had any doubts. The people who love us were understandably nervous for us, but we weren't afraid. We knew.
It took a while to get things arranged so we could have our introductory meeting in Orkney. But finally, everything was ready.
Off I went, dazzled by my own daring.
A cancelled flight out of Buffalo delayed my journey by an entire day, which I spent biting my nails in the airport. Next came an exhausting chain of intercontinental flights.
I was a wreck.
Not exactly the serene and romantic beginning I'd envisioned, but no matter. I was on my way to meet the man I'd fallen in love with from afar.
Shaking with nerves - and limp with relief that UK Border Control had allowed me into the country - I gazed down at the sculpted islands lying serenely below, still and green amidst the swirling waters.
They drew me into their spell. I was home.
Tom and I had spent hundreds of hours talking, so I had an idea of what life in Orkney would be like.
I found Orkney more beautiful than I'd imagined and Stromness a supportive and creative community - almost as wonderful as the man I'd come there to meet.
By the time I returned to the US several weeks later, Tom and I knew that we'd do whatever we had to do to make it happen.
I was moving to Orkney.
Back in America, the process of moving overseas to Orkney began to look daunting. I bought a big notebook and started making lists.
Tom had offered to move to the US, knowing how close I was to my family. His willingness touched my heart, but Tom was rooted in Orkney in a way that I'd never been rooted in Western New York.
Negotiating the minefield of emotions was even more difficult than the logistics of moving overseas. As happy as my family were for me, we all experienced a kind of grief at the inevitable changes that my leaving would bring.
I can honestly say that dealing with the sadness of the people I love was the hardest task of all.
Over the next six months, I kept looking at things in my house, pondering, "Do I love this enough that I'd be willing to pay for it to travel across the Atlantic?"
My notebook was filled with lists and tasks, organized from most-urgent to things-that-can-wait. Some things, like selling my house in a an economically depressed area, were impossible to predict, but there was nothing to do but forge ahead and try.
Almost miraculously, my home sold by word-of-mouth before I got the chance to put it on the market.
I re-homed my pets (another sadness amidst the joy), gave away most everything I owned and sent my old car off with one of my daughters.
The Plan was coming together. Tasks were getting checked off the Master List most pleasingly.
In January of 2016, I cleaned my empty house one last time, locked the front door and hugged my two favorite trees goodbye.
Then I sat in my driveway in a borrowed car and cried.
Everything that I hadn't given away, I had just sent off in a truck, bound for NY City to await a container ship. There was a lot of snow that day. I had to shovel my big driveway repeatedly so the moving truck could get in.
I'd forgotten to leave a winter hat out of my packed belongings. My hair froze. I reflected on how many ways I would not miss Western New York winters.
My belongings would languish for five months in a warehouse, waiting for another half of a container that wanted to be shipped to Scotland.
Suddenly, there was nothing more to do except submit my visa application and pray for approval.
While I was sweating out the visa application and waiting for the decision, I stayed with my stepmom for several weeks in the very bedroom where I'd grown up.
I had one suitcase with me. It contained a few clothes, my journal, several books and the huge pile of papers that I needed for completing my visa application.
In some ways, those liminal days were very uncomfortable. It felt like I was dangling over a chasm. I was certain about my decision but feeling ... uprooted.
During this strange time, I wandered around my old hometown, visited all of my old haunts and said goodbye over and over to people and places I loved.
It was both exciting and poignant.
Tom's friends and family took me to their hearts with great warmth. I guess I'm fortunate in that way, having a ready-made community to step right into.
For me, the process of taking firm root in my new home is ongoing, even three years into my adventure. And yet, in all the important ways I felt at home here immediately.
It was the "rooting" that took longer, and is ongoing. Like a tree taking root, there's nothing to do but water the little rootlets and wait.
Being a stranger can be an unsettling feeling when you've always lived among the same people - people who have known you since you were born.
When you move to a new place, it's like you have no history. Everybody around you has a history; many of them have a history with each other.
You're a foreigner who doesn't get the jokes, pronounces everything wrong and calls foods by the wrong names.
Having no known past is the perfect opportunity to reinvent yourself!
Have fun with that.
Peepers. Thunderstorms. Fireflies. Solo campfires in my back yard, gazing at the stars with my dogs and cats clustered around me on the blanket. Crickets. Trees. Sometimes snow ... but not usually. Autumn colors lighting up the hills. Walking in my woods. Sitting in my Amish rocker on the front porch with the little wind chimes tinkling in the breeze.
Believe it or not, I see my kids more now than I did before I left for Orkney.
Luke was in the army and then at West Point for many years, so he was away a lot. The girls were dispersing across the US. Getting together had become increasingly difficult and visits only lasted for a few days.
Now when I go to visit them, I stay for 3 - 4 weeks at a time, giving us lots of time - more than we used to have.
And of course, they love the excuse to come to Orkney, too.
My philosophy is that people are portable. I can go there. They can come here.
So I don't usually miss them, because we'll always be seeing each other again soon.
If you can understand half of this, you might be ready to move to Scotland.
Whether you're currently living in Orkney or once lived here and have since moved away, we would so appreciate hearing your Orkney story. Expats in other parts of Scotland are also very welcome to submit your story.
Click below to read other stories about living in Orkney contributed by our visitors.
Orkney changed our life!
In 2018 myself and my dad were asked to come to Orkney to carry out work. I had not long had a baby - she was 4 months old. My partner stayed at home with …
Moving to Orkney - It saved my life.
2017 and a year into all the Brexit nonsense. My band had just headlined at a Festival in Cambridge and I'd just finished doing a stock take of all the …
It Was Always Meant To Be
Almost 50 years ago, when I was young and not happy with the routine way that my life was going, I upped sticks and moved to Orkney, where I worked in …
From The Bottom To The Top (of the UK)
In November 2013 we moved from Brighton to Orkney, from the bottom of the UK to (almost) the top. We bought a foolishly large and largely neglected Victorian …
A Week Turned into Ten Years and Counting
My first visit to Orkney was for a week, in 2000. However, by the time we got there, I had studied Orkney's history and language for a whole semester. …
On a Whim
I moved to Orkney in June 2017. I'm a mother of two little girls. We have a crazy dog and the world's most anti social cat! I was living in Yorkshire …
About thirty years ago, I (Helen Woodsford-Dean) came up on holiday to Orkney and fell in love with this exceptional place that is Orkney. For the next …
My Mid Life Orkney Crisis
So I was 50. I thought my life was settled and then, bam! Redundancy struck. What to do? I could have stayed in Somerset and tried to get another …
Mermaid image (Rhonda's pages) and storyteller image (Tom's pages), and all other illustrations except where noted are here by the courtesy of our dear friend - Stromness author, artist and historian, Bryce Wilson MBE, who owns all copyrights. Thanks, Bryce!