My third attempt to get to Foula was a double success, the plane was running and I was allocated the coveted co-pilot's seat. The views from the cockpit were an unexpected bonus even though low cloud was settled on Da Sneug, the second-highest hill in Shetland at 418m. It is one of two Marilyns on Foula, which is the most remote inhabited island in the UK with a population of only 25. It is battered by the Atlantic and was the location for the film 'Edge of the World'. Foula means 'Bird Island' and it is a Special Protection Area (SPA) for birds, as well as a National Scenic Area and a Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI) for its plants and geology.
The flight passed over the spectacular west coast of Mainland Shetland with the coastline looking like a wooden jigsaw puzzle with the green green grass dappled with small lochans. We flew over Da Toon o' Ham before squirting onto the landing field where a fire engine and assembly of locals had gathered to see what and who the flight brought in. The pilot chatted to the few passengers as we disembarked before we began our adventures into the wild landscape.
I had decided to climb the two Marilyns and walk as much of the island as I could during the five hours between flights. I headed for Da Noup first, it was lower at just 248m and was still visible below the cloud level. But first I needed some protection from the Great Skuas - the dreaded Foula Bonxies. It was still the nesting season when they were at their most aggressive against intruders. I found an old fence post at Da Hametoon and strapped it into my rucksack so that it gave me two feet of timber above my head. Compared to my usual Shetland walking partner the fencepost was an unusually quiet and loyal companion for the day and probably saved me a few maulings. The initial climb was through one of the nesting sites so it was head down and a quick ascent. By the time I reached the ridge, the traffic of low-flying bonxies had decreased but they were still patrolling the ridgeline. I hunkered down below the summit to enjoy the views of the sea and to get some peace whilst I ate some food.
It was an easy descent down to Da West Bank where a number of Shetland ponies were grazing above the cliffs. It looked like a harsh environment for ponies but it wasn't exactly the pits. A group of bedraggled sheep were grazing, they had not been sheared in recent years and looked and behaved like feral animals. I descended to the cliffs where hundreds of puffins were nesting and quite happy for me to get close for photographs and to observe their quaint movements. I spent 15 minutes or so enthralled by being able to observe the life of puffins. And then down to Da Sneck o da Smaalie, a deep canyon formed from a fault in the sandstone, which was host to hundreds of Puffins and Razorbills. I climbed down into the canyon but not all the way to sea level: time was tight, there were some exposed and slippy rock faces and I was alone.
I returned up the canyon and spotted some Shetland wren and wheatears before beginning the long climb up to Da Sneug. There was a faint path to the east of the cliffs but as I entered the clouds I had to take a compass bearing for the summit as I headed up the steep grassy slopes. The bonxies were not easily visible but emerged from the cloud heading towards me at speed and clipped my fence post a couple of times. When I reached the summit I stopped for lunch, unfortunately, I had not brought a drink, assuming that a bottle of water would not be allowed on the aircraft.
I was determined to visit the highest cliff in Britain at Da Kame and set the compass for the kilometer-long trek across to the cliff edge. It was the most disturbing part of the walk, this was in Arctic Skua territory and they really get up close and personal. Despite the fence post, they clipped my shoulder several times as I worked my way across the complex terrain in the cloud. As I approached the cliff edge I inched my way down the greasy grass slope in the full knowledge that there was a 346m cliff imminent and visibility was no more than 15 metres. It was an anticlimax although I could hear the crashing of the sea below and the calls of the thousands of birds. I decided that instead of returning to Da Sneug I would continue to circumnavigate the island. I had the option of either keeping close to the cliff edge or bearing off inland to the east until I emerged from the cloud. Common sense took hold so I headed inland where I entered another nesting site of more bonxies; they swarmed me like giant midges. This place made Hitchcock's 'Birds' seem like a gentle adventure with nature.
As I left the cloud above Da Clay Pool I could see the coastline ahead and I walked over to Summons Head. Unfortunately, this too was Arctic Skua territory and they are even more disturbing when you see them flying straight at you at head height. I put my hood up and my head down until I reached the start of Blober's burn, which provided an obvious route down to the houses at North Harrier. From here there is a single track that leads back to Da Toon alongside Da Crookit Burn. I was strafed on a couple of occasions by the bonxies but it was otherwise the most relaxing part of the day.
Da Toon o Ham is the main settlement. It is an untidy collection of dwellings, mainly derelict, in contrast to the impressive but probably over-designed new primary school with its bank of solar panels. The island is also served by a small hydro scheme and some wind turbines, which underlines the green credentials of the island. A pity that the same energy has not been applied to clearing the abandoned vehicles and machinery that litter Da Toon. The walk back to the airstrip allowed me to visit the church where a couple from Manchester who had been on the plane had also arrived.
We walked back to the self-service air terminal. It is a functional building, a large garden shed, that was ahead of the curve in its minimalism. It is a passenger's dream: a total absence of retail facilities, no check-in desk, and free tap water. The locals turned up for the afternoon flight: a teenage girl driving the fire appliance, a four-year-old on a quad bike and Willie extolling the virtues of island life, although coming from the West of Scotland, he did miss a drink. A tall distinguished gent asked me where I had been. I explained and he told me that there were 7000 bonxies on Foula. I think I had been buzzed by most of them and only the chicks seemed afraid of me.
I had heard numerous stories about the relaxed way of life in Foula. No flights arrived before 10:00 a.m. because no one would be up. A taxi driver had told me of a visit by a friend who had stopped to talk to the wife of the distinguished-looking gent. It was summer and she was tarring the roof - not exactly easy work for an elderly lady. He asked after her husband and was told he was on holiday. On asking where had he gone, he was told "Oh he's inside watching television."
Marshall, the friendly pilot, landed the afternoon plane and we chatted with him about our adventures as we took our seats. We were airborne in less than five minutes. I have not enjoyed flying so much since my first flight with Dan Air in 1970. And Foula, well just go there it is one of life's genuine adventures but get yourself a big stick, it is not for the faint-hearted.
