Yell, Arisdale Hill

Summit Cairn

Burravoe

Education Blueprint for Burravoe school closure gets a message

Towards Fetlar

Mid Yell

Mid Yell beach

Thursday, 19 May 2011

Ascent:                 240 metres  
Distance:              10 kilometres
Total Time:          1 hour 10 minutes

Hill of Arisdale    210 metres        40 minutes      

After 4 days of round-the-clock work, I needed a break so I left Lerwick at 5pm to drive up to Yell and walk its highest hill. I missed the ferry by a few minutes after being delayed by the rush hour traffic exiting Lerwick and then by a low loader collecting a digger blocking the road. It was a happy set of circumstances as I was able to watch an otter patrolling the bay by the ferry terminal at Toft and miss a passing shower whilst on the ferry.

The hill of Arisdale is the highest point of a long ridge that runs south to north and provides the backbone of Yell. Its snout overlooks Burravoe.  I parked by a track leading to the Catalina aircraft wreck and followed the track for a while until tempted as always to strike out and take a direct route onto the ridge.  The hillside was well populated by Shetland sheep and lambs. As I hit the ridge I saw two wild-looking dogs, they started to bark and approach but then bolted in the opposite direction as I shouted to them. Shortly afterwards I reached the ridge, it was Great Skua (Bonxie) territory and for the next 15 minutes until I reached the summit cairn I was circled by several pairs of Bonxies as I passed through their nesting areas.  Fortunately, it was still too early in the nesting season for them to start strafing me.

The evening was getting better all the time and the views from the summit included views to the adjacent isles of Whalsay and Fetlar as well as back to the mainland where the profile of Ronas Hill was the focal point of a long north-to-south ridge. The flares of Sullom Voe and the glint of fishing boats in Whalsay flickered across the sounds. They were the twin symbols of the wealth of Shetland through oil and fishing.  

It had taken half an hour to climb the hill and I had to decide whether to run down and try to catch the ferry back or enjoy the evening, watch the birdlife and take a leisurely drive around the coast of Yell, I decided on the latter and as I descended the flank of the hill, two red-throated divers flew past. I descended to the northwest with the hope of seeing the crashed Catalina and on reaching the glen I met a farmer carrying a large rifle and looking for a pair of wild dogs.  He told me that they had been on the run for 3 days and a couple of lambs had been killed.  He assured me that the rifle was for the telescopic sights so I gave him directions of where the dogs had been heading.

I arrived back with an hour to spare so I drove through Burravoe, where the local primary school had been approved for closure by the Council two days earlier as part of an Education Blueprint.  Burravoe is a rural idyll on an early summer evening.  It was a long drive over the Heogals and then on the roller coaster over the flank of other hills to the dispersed settlement of Mid Yell, although there were splendid coastal views to the east all the way.  When I arrived in Mid Yell there was time to look around the schools and visit the local beach where Grace Ann, a swimming instructor whom I  had given a lift from the airport to Lerwick on a previous visit, had taught children to swim before the days of 'fancy leisure pools'.

It had been an evening to enjoy and I drove back on the perfect roads empty of traffic to catch a ferry to the mainland.  As I arrived back in Lerwick I was summoned to the pub for a drink with Professor Peter McKiernan and Gary Bowman from St Andrew's University, whom I had engaged to prepare a scenario plan for Shetland. After a couple of beers, I suggested some fish and chips from the Fort and we arrived just as it closed its doors for the night. We were given what was left.  I must have been a good customer but then the generosity of Shetlanders is legendary.