KYQ4: Fethaland

Fethaland Haaf Station

After the wintry weather of the last week, the snow had largely melted and the forecast was for good visibility with showers, northerly wind, and moderate temperatures which sounded pretty good for Shetland in December. So Saturday was devoted to driving to North Roe at the far north of the mainland and walking to Fethaland, the peninsula that was once the home to a fishing haaf station.

I started the walk from Isbister as the morning showers abated and headed east for the coast. A large tanker was heading out of Sullom Voe and I tried to keep pace with it. It seemed very low in the water, I could certainly not see the plimsoll line. For the next hour, I meandered up and down over an undulating coastal path. The ground was like a giant sponge after the snows and rains of the past week. The sea provided the soundtrack and an occasional nozzle of spray from a couple of Geos to accompany the walk until I eventually arrived at the old fishing station.

Surprisingly the skies lightened and it was moderately bright when I reached the Haaf Station and its assembly of former lodges which housed crews of up to 60 sixareens. Fethaland is an island beyond but is joined by a rocky causeway, there were dozens of sheep grazing on the fat land (Fethaland). The cliffs dropped away steeply to the west and, as the sun made a brief foray, the so-called yellow cliffs lived up to their name. The wind suddenly got up and I retreated gingerly from the edge of the cliffs, the footings were extremely difficult and I was being blown along on nature's skateboard. The sun gave way to a blackened sky and all light diminished; the automatic lighthouse began flashing at me, I checked my watch it was 12:00 but it could as easily have been midnight as noon.

It was time to return as I had reached the furthest point north. With snow, then hail, and then rain at my back I slid back to the causeway and found a ruin to shelter in; there was no roof but it was dry because the rain was horizontal. A tomato sandwich and an apple provided some sustenance for the return over the track via the Upper Loch of Setter. I watched out for red-throated divers and was surprised when two 4x4s towing trailers full of sheep passed me. The place was heaving with sheep already and every few metres I seemed to disturb another rabbit. If I were a sea eagle this is where I would make home. As I returned to the car the rain gave way to more 'between weathers'.

Driving back I enjoyed the wintry landscapes, the primary school had its eco flag flying but already half of it had been stripped off by the strong winds. A large trawler was moored at Colla Firth which is presumably the most northerly fishing station still operating. Further south Ronas Hill, the highest point on Shetland, came into view and the remnants of last week's weather were all around: frozen lochs, banks of snow, and air cleaner and fresher than any deodorant.

When I arrived back in Brae, I decided to drive out to Muckle Roe and drop in on Diane and Geoff, friends of a friend. They gave me a warm Shetland welcome and I learned more about the rich community life and enjoyed a slice of birthday cake with my new Shetland friends. Then back via Voe and Weisdale with a stop at Alistair's house for coffee and a catch-up. It was well dark when I left to drive back to Lerwick but still not 5pm. The lesson of days like today is to go out and make your day; all the ingredients are available on Shetland to be enriched, educated, and stimulated. As T.S. Elliot wrote 'each venture is a new beginning, a raid on the inarticulate ..'