Sandness Hill, West Mainland

Sandness with Papa Stour offshore

Fulmar from the cliff top

Bay of Deepdale

Hyper intelligent sheep

From Sandness Hill

Papa Stour Beyond Papa Sound

So come the storms of winter and then the birds of spring again. I do not fear the time.
Sandy Denny, Who knows where the time goes?

When I landed in Sumburgh on Tuesday evening it was the equivalent of the smack of hot air when arriving in the Med in summer. The moderate temperature of Shetland hit me after 3 weeks of Baltic conditions in Central Scotland over Christmas and the New Year. But winter storms were still rolling in over Shetland and I was eager to sample them over the coming weeks. I was enjoying solo walks on the wild side on weekends without any desire for an early arrival of spring. There was plenty of time for lots of work during the long hours of darkness.

Today was one of those grey wet windy days that justify staying indoors but I decided to visit the West Mainland. I drove through downpours in Walls and then down to Sandness, the most westerly point of the mainland which overlooks the island of Papa Stour. There was a coastal path hugging the shore and then curving and climbing to the cliffs overlooking Deepdale, what a great name, to the south. The path was waterlogged but the rain eased after the first ten minutes and I enjoyed 3 hours of lung-bursting activity breathing into the wind. The birdlife was abundant along the edge of the cliffs that reared higher as I headed south.  When I peered over the final rise and the Bay of Deepdale hove into view, there was no obvious way to continue the cliff walk.

Rather than heading back, I yielded to the temptation of climbing Sandness Hill, a Marilyn, so named by Alan Dawson from my old running club in Glasgow. He had the time and patience to list all of Scotland's and later the UK's hills which have a drop of at least 150 metres between them and any adjacent hill. It includes therefore many smaller hills and he then had the temerity to call them Marilyns. This was a retort to the rest of us who were obsessed with climbing Munros at the time.  There are 19 Marilyns in Shetland and despite my initial cynicism about Marilyns, I concede that it is a useful list. I will attempt to climb them all 19 over the next few months whilst I am privileged to spend time in Shetland.

Sandness Hill was a steady climb in windy conditions but the dividend was a summit that held a couple of small lochans, several cairns, a trig point, and views over to Papa Stour as it flitted in and out of low clouds but the rain kept off. A mountain hare zipped past as I started the descent and some sheep had been painted an unusual hue of blue. I sauntered into Sandness, pleased that I had made the effort to confront the wild weather, and decided to walk back via the coastline.  When strolling along the beach I saw a woman observing something in the sea. I stopped and followed her line of sight to see an otter playing in the breaking waves. It confirmed my determination to enjoy the wildness of Shetland in all weathers.

On a week when heavy weather had brought chaos to Queensland and Sri Lanka, it made me realise that Shetland is completely at one with heavy weather although I did find a carpet of sea shells about 30 metres above sea level, which confirmed that the Atlantic swells had been pretty huge and the wind mighty strong in recent weeks.