Orkney's green energy paradox: turbines, tariffs, and the great cycling delusion

Renewables and net zero are certainly a hot topic these days, but as an engineer and a real terms minded person, I struggle to see this revolution past the facts. I have absolute disdain for terms like sustainable tours or zero emissions statements because not a single manufactured thing is truly that.

Do turbines not require hundreds of tonnes of concrete, oil-filled gearboxes, and hundreds of miles of plastic-coated copper just to transmit this green energy? It is a hard one to ignore. Have a look at any Facebook page in a rural Scottish community and see if these huge windfarms and data centres are actually welcome. They get pushed through rapidly in the name of investment, but what is the true cost? We may never know. Orkney has been a pioneer in the field for decades, and many technologies have legs, but only when they are truly efficient and non-impactful to nature, which very few are.

You only have to look at experimental marine white elephants like the old Pelamis 2 wave machine left languishing at Lyness, a massive 1,300-tonne dead lump of steel that nobody quite knew how to scrap or what to do with once the funding dried up. And as for electric vehicles, I refuse outright to buy an EV because the premise behind them is completely bonkers to me.

Here is the first major misconception. People assume that because we produce massive amounts of clean energy, our bills are practically non-existent. The reality is completely upside down. Because of how the national grid is structured by mainland decision-makers, Orkney faces some of the highest electricity standing charges and bills in the UK, a burden shared with Shetland.

It feels like every time you turn around, some corporate entity acts like Moneybags from Spyro the Dragon, standing on a bridge they didn't build and demanding a toll just because you happen to live underneath their cables. We pump massive amounts of clean power back into the national system, yet our communities suffer from severe fuel poverty rates. The green energy boom benefits corporate balance sheets down south while locals get squeezed just to keep the heating on during a bitter northern winter.

This same gap between glossy theory and island reality applies to how people get around. Green travel advocates sometimes suggest renting a bicycle to see the historic sites. What they fail to mention is the complete lack of cycling infrastructure and the sheer potential misery of the elements. We used to take bikes out as kids in all kinds of crazy weather. Looking back, when you hit a gap in the dry stone walls and the angle was just right, you would end up in the grass looking up at the road wondering what happened. Besides this, every way to get here is powered by fossil fuel, with cruise liners being the biggest user. This is not a rant, but a grounder in reality.

Technically, the brochures are right about the islands being relatively flat. What they conveniently omit is the wind and how constant it is. Orkney is a completely exposed shelf in the middle of the North Atlantic. There are no forests or mountain ranges to break the breeze. If the forecast says a moderate 25 mph wind, that wind is hitting you sideways with full force the second you leave Kirkwall. On a bike, this leads to the great cycling delusion. You will spend four agonizing hours hunched over the handlebars, pedalling downhill with every ounce of your strength just to stay moving at 2 mph when the weather is showing off, right before the horizontal sea-soaked rain starts.

In this northern climate, it is remarkably easy to look entirely ridiculous on a bike, wrapped in fluorescent yellow waterproofs and moving slower than a sheep while locals pass you in tractors.

Our roads are narrow, winding country routes bordered by stone walls and deep ditches. Almost all outer town roads are governed by a 60mph national speed limit, and there are zero dedicated cycle lanes connecting Kirkwall to sites like Skara Brae or the Ring of Brodgar. You share the tarmac directly with heavy farm machinery, local trade vans, and massive tour buses. When a local driver rounds a blind bend at 60mph only to find a tourist wobbling along at 14mph, it creates a major safety hazard. Blocking a fast main road with no safe way to pass causes immense frustration for people trying to go about their daily work.

If you are dead-set on having a bicycle with you, you need to manage your road time smartly. Take your bike on the bus to cover the long, fast stretches of the main roads between towns and archaeological sites. This keeps you safe, saves your thighs from the relentless headwind, and minimises your time on the open tarmac. Unload the bike only for the short, quiet side roads near your final destination. As an old farming habit dictates, if you hold up traffic, pull into a passing place. It adds seconds to your journey but respects the community.

You do not need to subject yourself to the misery and danger of cycling our windy main roads to respect the local environment. Keep things efficient and localized instead of bringing giant diesel-chugging motorhomes that block single-track roads. Skip booking platforms and support direct local businesses. If you want to get around reliably without adding to the chaos, the team at Orkney Transfers handles standard transport with a strict punctuality guarantee that fixes the local taxi shortage. Meanwhile, if you want to step past the surface level and explore the deeper archaeology, I specialise in historical deep dives here at Historic Orkney.

Leave the pushbikes for quiet tracks, understand the real mechanics of the islands, and let the professionals handle the wind.

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Written by Calum from Historic Orkney Private Tours

In the aim of brightening your day, and mine.

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