After 4 days of gales with no ferries, the supermarkets were empty but the weekend brought still and clear weather. There was only one objective on a day like this - to visit the Northern Isles. I persuaded Nigel to join me on the outing as he was staying in Shetland over the weekend for the first time. The superbly engineered and maintained roads were empty apart from a Porsche that passed us doing the wrong side of 100mph on the way to Sullom Voe. It was a rare but indulgent symbol of the explicit wealth that exists on the back of oil. We caught the ferry to Yell, a service that is so good that a free internet hotspot is provided in the parking area. The well-equipped ferry ripped across the sound in 15 minutes with just half a dozen vehicles on board. It had a passenger lounge and cleanliness that would shame CalMac. The Sound was calm and Yell was illuminated by the low morning sun which was squeezing through the thin cloud layer.
We were asked by one of the crew as we disembarked whether were we going on to Unst. On replying yes, he said he would phone the ferry 17 miles away and ask it to wait for us. This courtesy was extended when we arrived and rolled onto the Unst ferry, it is a free service to Britain's most northerly island. We were invited by the skipper to join him on the Bridge and Nigel was allowed to take the wheel. On this calmest of days, it seemed a dream job. We enjoyed the 10 minutes of banter before arriving at Belmont for the final leg of the journey. It was another 10 miles on well-constructed roads to reach Hermaness, the most northerly peninsula of land, which is a National Nature Reserve and breeding ground for Great Skuas on the peat moorlands and Puffins on the cliffs to the west.
We walked up the hill on a well-marked path with occasional sections of boardwalk through the peat bogs to the high point at 207 metres and looked down on Muckle Flugga lighthouse. Nigel was dressed in formal shoes and a raincoat, looking every inch the city gent. I sent photos of him to his family, he was Britain's most northerly citizen as he inhaled the wildness of the views and the cacophony of sound from the crashing of the sea and the birds. The summit is precariously perched on the top of a series of sea stacks that at a latitude of 60 51' are the end of the road even for the innovative Shetland engineers. Although only 1:30 p.m.,, the light was beginning to fade. I walked up to the end of the peninsula and dropped down to the edge of the cliffs which are about 100 metres high and then walked back along a sheep path looking at the nesting sites for 25,000 Puffins. And then a climb back over the Hermaness moor, where the Great Skuas would dive-bomb me in the springtime, and then I skipped around the peat bogs from where the highest hill on Unst, Saxa Vord loomed into view. It is the location of a Radar station and is also famous for having recorded the strongest wind in Britain 177mph.
There was time for one more excursion so we drove through Haroldswick to Nor Wick Bay, host to the most northerly post box and bus shelter. Seven years ago the government withdrew the
RAF Saxa Vordbase from here and many jobs and people went with it. A large new building at Valsgarth intrigued us so we stopped half expecting to find Britain's most northerly leisure centre but it was the former RAF base.
A large friendly man came out for a chat, he was re-equipping part of the building as a microbrewery. It may sound a strange venture but Sonny Priest had been the fireman at the base and converted his hobby into a successful business - the
Valhalla brewery - and he was now expanding into bigger premises. Sonny would be an ideal guest on the Simpsons and Homer would be able to extol the virtues of Old Scatness and White Wife, two of the six varieties of beer that I sampled last week. Sonny had won the contract to supply the Tall Ships Race next year and was selling his beers to much of Europe and most recently to British Columbia. I joked about him brewing up something special like a 'Muckle Flugga Force Ten' for the Tall Ships event and he humoured me before returning to continue the fit-out of his new premises.
By this time it was 3:45 and almost dark, time to get back to the ferry. We arrived just as the ferry was about to leave Belmont but on seeing our headlights they dropped the ramp again and opened the gate to guide us onto the ferry. I had another 10 minutes on the bridge surveying the sound, watching the docking manoeuvres and learning more about this remarkable community from people who are content and happy in the remote stark beauty and friendship of the Northern Isles.
Looks wonderful. I really must get up to Shetland some time soon.
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