A visit to Scapa Flow Museum
Scapa Flow has been beloved of mariners since time immemorial and no wonder. It is one of the finest natural harbours in the world, a sweeping body of water that spreads its tentacles across 312 square kilometres. Scapa Flow is a sandy-bottomed safe anchorage that has offered a haven over the years for everyone from the Vikings and their longships, through to Britain’s navy during both world wars and on to the oil industry today.
There are over 250 items on display, many unseen by the public before the 2022 revamp, with everything from propaganda posters, personal effects and uniforms, through to naval guns. Virtual Reality experiences also help put you right at the heart of the stories.
Located on the isle of Hoy, the museum is housed in a former pumphouse of the Lyness Royal Naval Base, which was constructed in 1937 as the dogs of war ominously circled Europe again. It already served as a museum, but in 2022 underwent the massive and deeply transformational nigh £5 million upgrade that brings you the collage of hulking naval detritus and state-of-the art audiovisual displays that make it such a compelling place to visit.
There are over 250 items on display, many unseen by the public before the revamp, with everything from propaganda posters, personal effects and uniforms, through to naval guns. Virtual Reality experiences also help put you right at the heart of the stories. It’s no surprise that in 2023 the Scapa Flow Museum was a finalist for the largest prize in the museum world – Art Fund’s prestigious ‘Museum of the Year’.
History hits me even before I make it into the museum itself. I eke by the propeller and part of the drive shaft of the ill-fated HMS Hampshire. This armoured cruiser was working her way around Orkney’s waters in 1916 carrying a very prominent figure in Lord Kitchener, a British field marshal instrumental in the war effort, the guy who appeared on that famous poster roaring “Your country needs you”. Tragically the Hampshire struck a mine off Marwick Head that had been laid by a German U-Boat and quickly sank with the loss of all but a dozen of the 749 souls aboard. The dead included Lord Kitchener.
I delve inside the museum and alongside the compelling story of how Scapa Flow became a British naval base and served valiantly until 1957, I find more tales of devastation at the hands of marauding U-Boats. This time it is the HMS Royal Oak. In the embryonic stages of World War Two on 14 October 1939, the German submarine U-47 showed that Hitler was serious about turning the ‘Phoney War’ into all-out conflict by giving the Royal Navy the bloodiest of noses.
I learn the Royal Oak had been the pride of the navy during the First World War and that – although she had lost some of her speed in modernisation since – she was still one of the main warships and of symbolic importance. U-47 snuck under cover of darkness by Scapa Flow’s defences and unleashed torpedoes. Most missed, but not all. She was hit and went down. Of the 1,234 souls aboard 835 died. The museum is a deeply moving place to visit and I struggle at parts. Moments like when I read that 134 of the Royal Oak dead were boy seamen, just wee laddies who would never return to their mother’s arms.
The Royal Oak tragedy led directly to a major beefing up of Scapa Flow’s defences, including the building of the Churchill Barriers, the causeways that still help vault traffic around the archipelago today. Scapa Flow Museum takes a deep dive into those defences and sets the scene for the naval showdowns between Britain and Germany, really bringing to life the looming threats and then the frantic action. If you thought you knew your war history, I guarantee you will still discover plenty here from the brilliant mix of memorabilia and relics, which are the backbone to the collection, alongside the modern techniques used to tell the rich stories.
The knowledge nuggets at Scapa Flow just keep coming, adding colour to parts of the history of these isles that I thought I knew well. I find out extra information about the successes and then sinking of both the Bismarck and the Scharnhorst on one side and the Hood on the other. The death on both sides of thousands of men. I learn of courage, fortitude and daring too. None braver than the commandoes who headed off into the unknown from Scapa Flow to launch attacks against occupied Europe in the full knowledge that there was a good chance that they would never return.
One of the most fascinating parts for me is the Battle of Jutland in 1916, as some of the British fleet sailed from right outside my office window on the Firth of Forth. Jutland was the largest naval battle of World War One, with 250 vessels involved. A showdown between the British and German navies had been looming since the start of hostilities in 1914 and it finally came when the British sailed out from Scapa Flow and Rosyth intent on engaging the Germans. And engage they did in a battle that saw 25 ships sank and 2,500 men killed. At the time the result seemed inconclusive, but the Kriegsmarine never sailed out in force again so in the broader picture it was a British strategic success.
Capturing the German fleet at the end of World War One and mustering them in the Forth was also a massive success for the British. So then was the sailing of the German ships north under escort to the ‘safety’ of Scapa Flow’s vast harbour. Any sense of post-war triumph, though, evaporated on the night of 21 June 1919 when Admiral Ludwig von Reuter gave the fateful order to his men to scuttle their ships, wrongly fearing the war might restart and the Germany’s own fleet be used against them.
Despite valiant attempts by the British to stop the mass sinking, the Germans managed to scuttle 52 of their 74 ships, with the loss of nine sailors over half a year since the guns fell silent on the signing of the Armistice. These are the shipwrecks you sail over en route to the museum, ships some of which are now world-famous dive sites.
I end my visit enjoying a treat in the Skalpaflòi Café, the bright airy oasis that serves as the perfect counterpoint to the heaviness of the more torrid tales unfolding around the museum. A proper cup of coffee and a slice of delicious Orkney fudge follow an Orkney crab salad, a decadent lunch that the serving sailors in Scapa Flow could only have dreamed of. I sail out back over history thinking of them, grateful that their sacrifices mean my generation have never had to engage in the brutalities of a world war.
By Robin McKelvieRobin McKelvie is an award-winning travel writer and broadcaster who has been published in over 200 magazines and newspapers worldwide.
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