The Orkney Islands: In Search of Ancient Ancestors

A few years ago on a trans-Atlantic journey, I stopped in Iceland for a few hours in the middle of the night. I found myself staring at a photograph on the wall of a family of Icelanders in traditional clothing, and I remarked to a fellow traveler: "There's something strangely familiar about these people." Her answer: "They look like you."

It was true. I have a mix of DNA from Germany, England, and Scotland, but one branch of the family came from the Orkney Islands off the top of Scotland not too long after the islands had been ruled by Norway and/or raided by Vikings for centuries (like Iceland). No doubt, there's a dose of Norse in me.

A couple of weeks ago, my wife Lisa and I spent a week in Scotland, and in the middle of that week we made our way to the Orkneys so I could tap into my Viking roots. I had high expectations, but never guessed how satisfying the experience would be.

The Orkneys are a group of about 70 islands surrounded by a rollicking sea and bullied by weather. On many days, the wind and rain are awesomely intense. They slice in sideways, creating a fearful racket, ripping at anything that's not lashed down, and literally beating you up with your clothing. It's just an amazing, exhilarating experience.

The Ring of Brodgar.

The islands don't have much in the way of trees, but they offer up broad vistas of pasture dotted with sheep and cattle. Also, in addition to the homes of farmers and villagers, there are many abandoned, roofless stone houses.

Remarkably, the land is strewn with standing stones and rings of stones, burial mounds and whole buried villages erected or built by neolithic people 5000 to 6000 years ago.  That's long before the Egyptian pyramids.

It seems likely that I have some remote connections with the mysterious people who lived on the islands in those ancient times, but it's nearly certain that I share code with folks who lived there in the 1600s. According to Ancestry.com, an ancestor named James Works was born on the island of Shapinsay in 1660 and Christened in a church there on August 12 of that year. He later got married, moved to Belfast, in Ireland, and started a family there before moving on in 1718 to the United States. Others in the family line used the surname Work, rather than Works, according to Ancestry.com.

Balfour Castle, Shapinsay. The Balfours once owned the island.

 That's all I know about this dude, so when we arrived in Orkney I didn't have great expectations of making familial connections there. But I was pleasantly surprised. Shortly after arriving on Shapinsay by ferry, during a walkabout, Lisa and I met people at the community boathouse who were friendly and talkative. I asked if they knew anybody names Works or Work--and they did. There was one man named Work on the island, an elderly gentleman who lived alone in a stone house by the sea. Duncan Work was his name.
 

Lisa in front of Balfour farm buildings.

Duncan is possibly a distant cousin of mine, separated by 5000 miles and 360 years.

One of the ladies in the boathouse called Duncan to see if he would entertain guests, and another drove us out to his house--which was almost totally covered in overgrown bushes that had been sculpted around it by the wind.

We were greeted by Duncan in his kitchen, where he passes most of his days. He sits at a table near a window that looks out onto a lawn and a pasture sloping down to the sea. He has ham and CB radio equipment stacked on the table. His hobby is listening to fisherman speaking via CB and people around the world chatting via ham radio channels. He joked that he had learned to swear in multiple languages by listening to fisherman from many nations conversing during times of high stress.

Duncan Work

In spite of Duncan's 83 years and poor health, he was warmly welcoming and mentally sharp. He confirmed that he's the last man named Work still living on Shapinsay. A cousin, Wilma Work Brown, lives not too far away.

When he was young there were many Works on the island, he said. It was one of the two most common surnames--along with Sinclair.

Where had all the Works gone? "They died away over time, or moved away," Duncan told us.

The view out Duncan Work's window.

Later, at Shapinsay's museum and archives, I examined details of the 1841 census, apparently the first one conducted in Scotland, and saw that at that time there were 35 households of Works people on the island--more than 100 people. They were listed most commonly as fishermen, farmers, carpenters and straw weavers.

Duncan grew up on a farm in the northeast corner of Shapinsay with his parents and grandparents. His grandparents had purchased the farm from the Balfours when they pulled up stakes in the late 1800s. It was called Whitecleat Farm.

On the farm, the Works raised sheep and cattle, and harvested hay, oats and turnips to feed the animals and "potatoes to feed ourselves," Duncan said. He didn't really enjoy farming so when he had a chance he took a job on the island's road crew.

Here are some photos of earlier life on Shapinsay that are on file in the museum:

Whitecleat Farm in winter.

Duncan Work riding a sheep.

Duncan, left,with his dad, Billy.

Work family picnic, with Wilma Work Brown in the pram.

Duncan lives in the family home of his late wife, who died nine years ago. He says that when he dies, the property, Ostoft Farm, will go to a niece and nephew.

As we prepared to leave him, Duncan asked if he could have a hug with Lisa. Afterwards, he said, "If we all hugged each other more, the world would be a better place."

After we left Duncan, we visited the ruin of an old church and graveyard about half a mile from Duncan's house. The graveyard had plenty of Work grave markers. Here's a photo: