And finally... Holiday 2010 - Part 8

And so to the final chapter of our Shetland trip.

The one particularly wet day of the holiday was spent in Lerwick, shopping for presents for family and friends, exploring the older part of town and visiting the splendid Shetland Museum.

The next day, our last full one on the isle, barely brings itself to the breakfast table. We stare out at low cloud on the hills, white wave crests in Swarbacks Minn and rain lashing against the windows. The forecast is for improved weather to follow, so we spend an hour at the B+B packing, the better to enjoy our last evening on Shetland.

We set off, mid morning, for West Mainland, an area we've so far ignored. It is still raining, but, in a way, that's quite good, as the first port of call on our itinerary is the waterfall on the Burn of Lunklet. The weather gods are definitely on our side today, for as we park beside the burn, the rain stops and the clouds begin to lift. Sure enough, there's plenty of peaty water cascading off the hills and the waterfall is a foaming torrent pouring, like a huge dark ale, over the rocks towards Aith Voe.

Our next stop is Da Gardains, a croft near Sand, that has been turned over completely to horticulture rather than agriculture. In a sheltered voe, behind an ayre and a salt marsh, thousands of trees and shrubs have been planted, creating a very different landscape to that of the rest of Shetland. A stream winds between a series of ponds all chock full of tadpoles, our lass discovers a newly-fledged family of Goldcrests and the sun beats down as warm as it has done all fortnight.

Moving on to the village and port of Walls, we pop into the cafe, above the local bakery, for lunch. I take up my customary position with my back to the room so that you-know-who can peoplewatch at her leisure. Before our soup can arrive, her skills are proven beyond doubt, when she spots a couple who we met on last year's holiday on North Ronaldsay in Orkney. Our lass saunters over for a chat, though the husband can't place her immediately. Then he sees me and exclaims, "The dragonfly man!" as the penny drops. The world's lowest key celeb, that's me.

Still chuckling over my sudden fame, we drive inland to Stanydale to view a complex of ancient structures. Neolithic farmhouses, field boundaries, burial mounds, standing stones and a large chieftain's hall are laid out on a plateau, all the more strange for being one of the few places in Shetland where you can't see the coast. This suggests an amount of deliberate siting, but the reasons are lost across the intervening 4000 years, we can only speculate and wonder at the motives of these folk from long ago.

Yours truly tells a joke so old, it's positively Neolithic

After all that merriment, we make our way to Vementry, to take in the view across Swarbacks Minn to the B+B. I make no apologies for almost repeating a photo from Part 1, this has been a magical holiday, in great part due to the hospitality shown to us by Elsie and Ivor Wood at Westayre.

We journey back north for our last evening of big skies and summer gloaming, stopping off at Mavis Grind, the narrow strip of land that divides the North Sea from the Atlantic Ocean between Mainland and North Roe. Then we drive over to Eshaness for a final look at the volcanic landscape and the setting of the sun on an enthralling visit to these most northerly of isles. Thank you to the residents of Shetland for their kindness and patience. Thank you, dear reader, for sharing in the memories. Good night.

Holiday 2010 - Part 4

In the north west of Shetland lies Eshaness, a landscape forged by a volcano several hundred thousand years ago.

Fortunately, the temperature's dropped a wee bit since then, though as we leave the car and step into the wind and rain, I can't help thinking that a few degrees warmer wouldn't be so bad. Wrapped up against the elements, we can only marvel at the fulmars and ravens using the geography and air currents like some giant aerial skate park.

The rock formations of Eshaness are picture postcard stuff. Out to sea are several sea stacks, Da Drongs (Shetlandic for The Drongs) and an impressive sea arch, Dore Holm, which resembles a drinking horse. By the lighthouse is a blow hole, Kirn o Slettans, which is the remnants of a side cone from the ancient volcano. The cliffs are a slice through the physiology of the eruption, with solidified ash, lava, agglomerate and pryoclastic flows preserved in the Devonian landscape. A kilometre north, a subterranean passage leads 100m under the cliff to a gloup known as the Hol o Scraada, where the roof of a sea cave collapsed.

Another kilometre or so brings us to Grind o da Navir, a storm surge beach on a colossal scale. The pebbles in this case being half ton lumps of rock, excavated by Atlantic storms and hurled inland by the power of the waves. Standing on the floor of the beach, it's like being the world's tidiest quarry.

 

The following day, we awake to the realisation that we've been here a week and for the first time don't have a plan for the day. After talking to some fellow guests over breakfast, we decide to head to Fetlar, two short ferry trips away. I must admit that I'd been putting off the ferry trips because I was struggling to understand the time table. I was much reassured, however, to learn that I was not alone in this regard, on hearing that the school children of Fetlar had taken it upon themselves to write and publish a much more easily comprehendable version.

On reaching Fetlar, we made for the RSPB reserve at the Mires of Funzie, in the hope of seeing Red-necked Phalaropes, the island being one of the their few UK breeding sites. Sadly, fortune wasn't with us, though we did see about a bazillion Snipe, or Schnip! as our Dutch comrades in the hide would exclaim at regular intervals.

The return trip to mainland meant a 55 minute wait on the island of Yell, so we detoured slightly and settled down to a picnic tea at West Sandwick. After munching our sarnies, watching the waves crashing on the beach and photographing some orchids in the meadow behind the dunes, we eventually realised that it was nearly ferry time. Our lass drove like the wind, whilst I shouted encouragement along the lines of "Keep your foot down!" and occasionally screamed "More speed!". On reflection, this may be why the island is called Yell.

Back on north Shetland, we stopped off beside Voxter Voe to check out a shingle beach. We had seen a chap there that morning, armed with a camera, so thought it worth a look. And so it proved, when our lass spotted a Ringed Plover chick and then an Arctic Tern chick, two little fluff bundles unconcernedly preparing to face the world and all its dangers. Let's hear it for Team Pom Pom.