Day 11 -- Sunday, the 3rd July
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| As wake-up sights go, it could be worse |
What a great crossing! When we visited the first time, in 2006, I had spent one of the worst nights of my life in a reclining seat, made worse by the deafening snores of an old bloke with apnoea. Today, I slept pretty well in a cabin and woke up as we were passing Sumburgh Head. Then, I landed broken. Today, I feel strong. It was not cheap, but I now find it worth every penny.
From our landing in Lerwick, we drive to Scalloway to take possession of our new quarters: Easterhoull Chalet. We then walk into the town for breakfast, but no luck! Everything is closed. Of course, it is Sunday, but is that not precisely the day visitors want to have breakfast? We see people inside The Cornerstone and manage to make our way in... only for them to tell us they only serve residents of the B&B, today. Argh. At least, we see an Arctic tern. And ponies. Welcome to Shetland!
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| Scalloway Castle, covered in scaffoldings |
Crackers and cheese it is, then. Then a nap. We may have had a good night, but it was short all the same.
After the nap, we drive to Eschaness. Words are unnecessary.
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| The Drongs |
The weather is variable and very windy. VERY windy. The scenery is breathtaking, but the wind (which I love) is so strong and cold as to make it hard to enjoy. We spot fulmars, a redstart, ringed plovers, and a couple of puffins (I think -- they are far away).
However, Mainland Shetland is busy. We do manage to find a table at The KB for dinner... at 16:00. We are all ready for food, so that is not an issue, yet it is disheartening that it seems the only option on the day.
The food is amazing.
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| Beer-battered Haggis to share |
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| Shetland seafood pie for me |
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| Scampi & chips for JS |
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| Roast lamb for adc |
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| Sweet potato fries to share |
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| KB cheese board to share |
The service, on the other hand, is sometimes... folkloric. For example, they have a bottle of Muckle Flugga; at last a chance to try that whisky, matured on Shetland (distilled in Speyside). The lass disappears for a while, then comes back telling me she fears they no longer have any and asks where I have seen it. I explain it is on the far-left side of the top shelf behind the till. She asks me to come show her, looks at said shelf and obviously cannot see it. I extend a finger to the exact place I described and, since she is too short, offer to take it down. Only when it is in her hands does she acknowledge that they do, indeed, have a bottle. Anyway, it is a decent, Bourbon-matured Speysider, and I make a note to procure a bottle, if I can find one cheap.
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Muckle Flugga Limited Edition 'Over Wintered' in Shetland (40%, Broad Street Brands Ltd, American Oak ex-Bourbon Cask, C#15002055, b#617)
How they made 600+ bottles out of one Bourbon cask is anyone's guess |
We head back to the chalet for an early night. I am knackered.
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Although we do find time for a puzzle
(a piece is missing, annoyingly) |
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| adc, on the other hand, meets a Viking in the garden |
Day 12 -- Monday, the 4th July
It is a late-ish start, today. I needed to catch up on sleep. I feel a little better than last night, yay.
We drive to Sumburgh Head, an RSPB reserve. The road to it crosses the airstrip; it still amuses me. :-)
Further down the road and up the hill, we park by the lighthouse. Good timing: there are not many people. Before we look around the lighthouse, we spend fifteen-twenty minutes observing birds. A few metres from the car park are fulmars, guillemots and puffins. We were not sure we would see the latter, thinking they might have headed back to sea already, but they are here alright, curious, not shy in the slightest, and just a little further from us than they were on Lunga.
A quick round of the lighthouse from outside, and we start the walk. It follows the cliff line down the hill to the Jarlshof.
We see more fulmars (soon becoming a favourite), guillemots, cormorants, few puffins, Arctic terns (rapidly turning into a favourite too), great black-backed seagulls, as well as a handful of gannets above the water. adc is melting. If she only knew. :-)
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| Fulmar |
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Gannet staring firmly back at me
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| This crab was obviously some bird's meal |
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| Fulmar |
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| Gannet |
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| Fulmar |
Oh! Inland, we spot a wheatear, swallows or swifts, and other smaller birds, too quick and volatile to identify.
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| Wheatear |
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| Could it be a lark? |
The trail ends at the Jarlshof, which kind of tricks us into taking the tour. It is interesting and well presented, yet I am distracted: by now, it is crowded and I am in a birding mood. Besides, I already saw the site, sixteen years ago. I end up not listening to the audio guide much, taking a leisurely stroll instead, and spending a lot of time photographing a wren.
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| Eurasian wren |
From here, we climb back up the hill to the lighthouse. Unfortunately, it is on the road -- and it is busy with traffic, now!
Just before we begin the ascent, we stop at Grutness, where there are public toilets. We are attacked by furious Arctic terns -- dozens of them. Obviously, we are on their territory! They dive-bomb to turn us away, around forty centimetres from my head, allowing for close-ups, not of great quality, as they move like housemartins -- and I do not want to startle them too much.
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| Arctic tern |
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| Arctic tern |
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| Pony in the field across the road |
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| More ponies in the same field |
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| Ringed plover |
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| A couple of dunlins, maybe? |
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| Another ringed plover |
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| Another angry Arctic tern |
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| Errr?... |
We reach a car park now full of cars -- someone even parked on the moor. Just above that, a shit pump is obviously troubleshooting the lighthouse's septic tank. Even here, at the end of the world, people are full of shit. And probably flush down wet wipes. I make a mental note that I preferred the pungent guillemots'-guano smell, earlier, to this decaying human-crap perfume that now wafts around the site.
But the smell of faeces is certainly not enough to make me forget I am hungry. That is for yellow-bellies. We make our way to Katja's Unken Kaffee and, timely enough, a table becomes free. There, in the bay window, we enjoy the shelter from the wind, the sun, and unmatched vistas. We order sandwiches and pastries. They are out of bread, so offer the sarnies in a croissant instead. There is also no vegetarian option.
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| Ham Unkenbun for adc |
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| Same for me |
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| Salami Unkenbun for JS |
When we are done with our filled croissants, half of the pastries we ordered are no longer available. To say I am pissed off would be an understatement. It takes a lot of self-restraint on my part to not make a scene, especially seeing as the waitress seems totally unbothered. JS makes the best of her consolation prize, but I am fuming. My own pastry is so-so, or, at least, I do not enjoy it as much as I had hoped.
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| Almond croissant for adc |
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| Same for me |
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| Pain au chocolat for JS |
Full of bile and piss, we leave the place. I take care of the latter on the way to the car, while the journey to Scalloway sorts out the former.
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| Also, an encounter like this defuses my ire |
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| This too |
Shetland is busy. People everywhere. It is not Piccadilly Circus, obviously, but in this part of the world, it is more than one would hope.
Before walking to the chalet, we go visit our hostess's garden, the one adc saw yesterday.
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| This bumblebee is only found in the Shetland Islands |
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| "What kind of music do you listen to, mate?" |
Once home, I take a shower: cold water. Great. It does not end there, annoyingly enough: as we prepare for the evening, and realise that our plans require advance reservations, JS and I discover that RSPB Noss, which we are supposed to visit tomorrow and is meant as the highlight of this whole trip (it certainly was the drive), is closed. Avian flu is decimating bird colonies across the archipelago, and the RSPB made the difficult decision to try and contain the epidemic. Boat tours around the island are still going... but they are all sold out for tomorrow -- and with only a few hours to go, how could it be any different? There are slots on Wednesday, but that is the day we check out from our accommodation, and the weather forecast is dreadful to boot. We even consider the 5:30 excursion, but it hardly works with our check-out time, the weather looks set to be dismal at that time already, and there is no availability tomorrow. Shetland is playing hard to get.
We agree it is best to look at our options after dinner. Time to go to Lerwick to get some food. There, we have time to visit Fort Charlotte, an active artillery fort that is viewable seemingly 24/7. It is chilly, yet bearable.
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Clever marketing.
We will discover tomorrow that the interior needs some work |
It starts raining as we enter the restaurant.
The menu promises Muckle Flugga; I ask to see the bottle, to confirm it is a different release from last night's. They are out of it altogether. Problem solved. We try Scapa Glansa, which is pretty good, even in those moronically-inadequate tumblers.
The food, on the other hand, is excellent.
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| Patatas Bravas, Tomato Salsa & Sour Cream for adc |
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| Tofu & Kimchi Gyozas with Sesame Sumac Salad & Soy Dip for JS |
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| Smoked Haddock Arancini & Creamy Butter Leek Sauce for me |
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| Sliced Duck Breast with 5-Spice Salad and Mango Salsa & Hibiscus Syrup for adc |
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| Seafood Stew with Scallop, Mussels, Ling and Monk in Lemongrass and Coconut Sauce for JS |
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| Pan-fried Hallibut, Red Pepper Puree [sic], Brown Rice & Pickled Veg for me |
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| Grilled Marinated Pineapple, Pistachio Crumbled Vanilla Ice Cream & Pickled Blueberry Syrup for JS |
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| Chocolate Pavé, Hazelnut Brittle & Salted Caramel Ice Cream for me |
Back home, I bump the car into a wall while parking. What a day! It looks like there is no damage whatsoever -- phew! White Stag, by the way, has a mind of its own: it takes control of the brakes against my will, and becomes occasionally tricky to manoeuvre, as a result. That is the reason for this mishap.
Inside, JS and I spend hours trying to decide what to do tomorrow. One of the Noss-tour-boat companies has offered three spaces on Wednesday morning. Other islands are accessible, and some have RSPB reserves that are still open.
I am exhausted and out of patience. I go to bed.
What a pesky day! It had started so well, too!
Day 13 -- Tuesday, the 5th July
Strange start, today. We get up relatively early, but are still unsure what to do:
- Our plan A to go to Noss is dead in the water: Noss is closed to the public
- Plan B was to tour Noss in a boat. All three trips of both operators are fully booked for today. The only alternative is tomorrow, departing 9:30, which does not work with our check-out time, our lunch reservation, and, especially, because the weather forecast for tomorrow looks grimmer by the hour. In any case, it is not a plan for today
- JS has spent an inordinate amount of effort on a backup plan C that would take us to Fetlar, where she hopes (with no guarantee) to see a red-necked phalarope. It comes with a price tag of six hours of driving, and two ferries each way with tight connections, to barely make it back on time for our evening plans. Not to mention that, if Fetlar is not (yet) closed, knowingly visiting an RSPB reserve when there is a peak in avian flu cases is perhaps not the most responsible thing to do. After a few hours' looking into it, we abandon this option
- Western mainland. We have not yet been to Sandness. JS finds interesting spots in that direction, and a cake shop in Bixter. To paraphrase MLK: We have a plan
The first stop on our journey west is Tresta Voe. It is not much of a spot, to tell the truth: a car park by the roadside, overlooking a loch (or a voe). We stop anyway: a car is just in front of us with someone in it, which comforts us this is the place to be. It will later turn out that the driver is sleeping. :-)
JS gets out of the car, and it is not thirty seconds before I see two birds land on the water. Cormorants? Nope. Could it be?... Binoculars! YES! Black-throated divers. An exciting first! Too far for a picture, but -- hey!
We continue to Reawick, where we take a short hike through farmland and onto the coast, where the wind becomes fiercer. The weather is magnificent, if a little chilly.
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| Curlew |
We stop in a sheltered creek for a biscuit and a dram. Almost instantaneously, a harbour seal pops its head out of the water and observes us with curiosity. :-)
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| Harbour seal |
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| Oystercatcher |
Back on the trail, we see the usual suspects: fulmars, Arctic terns, oystercatchers, and sheep. On the way to the car, we come across the shepherds, who are taking advantage of the weather to shear their sheep. It is certainly the most jovial exchange we will have during our stay in the archipelago, and a lovely moment.
We then drive to Sandness on the off chance it might be nice. Plus, there are public toilets. The weather is still beautiful and, coupled with the winding narrow roads, I feel in heaven. Sandness is a tiny port (well, there is a slipway...) We park and go for a stroll along the shore. The sea is a deep blue and there are birds, not too far from the coast. Would you know it? Arctic terns (again), skylarks, fulmars, and... gannets! Not twenty thousand pairs of them as in Noss, not flying forty centimetres from our scalps, but a dozen of them, fishing in the near distance. We are happy! One could say this is mission accomplished.
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| Arctic tern |
We walk back to the car and make our way. We have driven ten metres when JS is about to lament that we have not seen anything in Sandness that we have not seen elsewhere, when she suddenly stops:
JS: "What is that little bird, on the water?"
I stop the car, she pulls out the binoculars.
JS: "Small wader... It wouldn't be a r-... Oh! My God. YES! It is a red-necked phalarope."
It is a photogenic wee thing too: I spend several minutes shooting it, and I tire of it before he does. Yay.
The drive back to the main road is ecstatic. I marvel that, on this forsaken day during which our masterplan to hike on Noss was derailed, we saw black-throated divers, a red-necked phalarope, and gannets. I joke that we should see a red-throated diver too, just to make it complete.
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| We see some local street-art too |
As we reach the main road, it is a small shock to see more cars, and a disappointment that this traffic does not allow us to take pictures of the sign to the famous town of Twatt. We are also deprived of pictures of the lovely hand-written sign for a Chinese night to be held in Skeld on the 21st July, because we are followed too closely. But we have a mission, and that is to reach The Cake Fridge Shetland, in Aith, that operates as an honesty store. Fingers crossed the baked goods make up for our mild disappointment at not being able to stop and snap away.
Next to the bakery is an enclosure full of pygmy goats (or two enclosures, in fact). Feisty little things! I knew they were, but I did not expect young females to be fighting like that, locking horns and jumping onto each other.
The selection of pastries, on the other hand, is not at all to my liking. They are essentially industrial confections (Oreos, Cadbury's, Sweeties) topping tiffin. We try really hard to be good sports, but find nothing for us.
We climb back into the car, feeling let down.
I am prepared to go back the way we came, so as to take that Twatt picture, but JS sends me the other way. I swallow my disapproval and head for Gonfirth and Voe, which is quite a detour to return to Scalloway. But we are not in a rush.
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| Cunning sheep, disguised as a Border collie |
Suddenly, JS's eagle eye spots birds on a loch. The road is deserted; I stop the car. Divers again? Yes. Binoculars. RED-THROATED divers! A couple... AND A CHICK!
We observe them in total disbelief, stunned by our luck, today, in terms of birding.
We do have to travel back south, however, and need to start thinking about packing. Still, what a day! One that might have been a complete write-off, yet turned out to be one of our best.
As we travel to our chalet, I realise, once more, that there are dead hedgehogs everywhere on the roads. Road kills. They are an invasive species, here, with no predator, so they thrive. That reflects in the number that gets run over by automobiles. What a sad state of affairs! They are such a rare sight elsewhere in the country and the Continent, these days, and here, they are everywhere, where they should not be.
Home, change, drive to Lerwick.
We have dinner at Fjarå. The service is almost-comically disorganised (two waiters come in quick succession to take our drinks order and explain the menu, and it takes ages to get the dessert menu, then the desserts and, finally, the bill). The food is excellent, though.
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| Breaded Cod Goujons with a Garlic Mayo and a Light Salad for adc |
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| Soup of the Day for JS |
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| Smoked Mackerel Pate served with Toasts and a Light Salad for me |
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| Slow Cooked (6-8 hours) Shetland Lamb Shoulder Served with Colcannon Potatoes, Buttered Rosemary Carrots, Sweet Potato Crisps & Gravy for adc |
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| Shetland Salmon with Cajun Spices, Garlic Sautéed Potatoes, served on a
Light Summer Salad & Topped with Dill Crème Fresh for JS |
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| Grilled Shetland Hake served with a White Wine Sauce, Seasonal Greens,
Toasted Pine Nuts & Sautéed Potatoes & Cherry Tomatoes on the Vine for me |
When it comes to the dessert, things go tits up: it takes thirty minutes between the time they take our plates away and the time they bring us the dessert menu; another fifteen minutes to take our dessert order, then longer to actually get what we ordered. By the way, nothing on the menu or in the cake display interests me, but the waiter says I can have a piece of the triple-chocolate brownie he was stashing for tomorrow, with a scoop of ice cream, if I so desire. It makes me feel special, so I bite. I receive an Oreo brownie instead.
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| One scoop of chocolate mint ice cream for adc |
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| Pavlova served with Chantilly Cream, Fresh Berries & Chocolate Sauce for JS |
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| Oreo brownie with a scoop of fudge ice cream for me |
I do not like mine (the taste, the texture, the inclusion of Oreo -- all is wrong with it, bar the ice cream). I go from feeling special to feeling deceived. JS's pavlova is a total waste. A meringue that feels and tastes industrial, drowned in floods of whipped cream. Sad. A great restaurant crumbles (see what I did, there?) with its desserts.
We have an easy drive home. Time to pack.
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| White Stag (left) found its soulmate on the car park |
Day 14 -- Wednesday, the 6th July
It was a bad night. I have a (pavlova-induced?) headache. The weather is absolutely dire. We are so relieved not to have booked a morning tour of Noss on an open-deck boat.
adc decided yesterday that she wanted to go to Trondra and Burra to see a lighthouse. She is anxious that we may not have time to do both, be on time for lunch, then on time for our ferry. A look at a map yesterday told me it was all feasible, but now, with the bad weather and heavy head, everything seems like a train wreck.
We load up the ever-faithful White Stag, check out from our Easterhoull Chalet, then drive to the isles. It takes a whole ten minutes to cover both islands and come back, after all, which leaves us with two hours to kill before our lunch reservation. We reckon the Scalloway Museum is a good place to be. Except it does not open for a solid hour. Instead, we drive to Lerwick and do some shopping.
I find a bottle of Muckle Flugga, but it does not have a price tag, and we are pretty heavy as it is. I pass. We drive back to Scalloway for lunch -- two short drives that seem entirely inconsiderate from an environmental point of view, I do realise. I will not try to justify.
For lunch today, JS and I confront sixteen-year-old memories: we dine at what we then knew as NASFC (North Atlantic Sea Fisheries College), and is now Da Haaf, a diner within NAFC (I suspect they teach how to fish in lochs as well as the sea, nowadays, hence the missing S). At the time, it was the single best seafood restaurant I had ever been to. The food was uncomplicated, yet so fresh and of such high quality that it won me over effortlessly. Over the past decade-and-a-half, we have discovered other places that were top notch, yet the first is often seen as the best -- and so it went for NASFC. Today, the same place competes again, though no longer as a first. It is not up against a blank canvas, now, but a stream of excellent meals and joints (think: Crannog, Hamnavoe, Ee-Usk, Loch Fyne, and the almighty Café Fish). It could be tricky for it to shine, but we are willing to risk it.
The menu seems as limited and simple, or even simpler than it used to be, but what it offers puts joy in my soul. The mains are da bomb, the desserts are outstanding, and the music... Well, I discover another new band.
Soundtrack: Bongshang - Vy-lo-fone
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| "Da Haaf" Famous Cullen Skink & Homemade Bannock for all |
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| Peppered mackerel Fatoush for me |
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| Luxury Smoked Haddock Mac n Cheese for JS |
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| "Da Haaf" Scrummy Fishcakes on Caesar Salad for adc |
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| Ice Cream Sundae for me |
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| Rachel's cheesecake for adc |
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| One scoop of raspberry ripple ice cream for JS |
The verdict is in. Da Haaf in real life is not the NASFC of my romanticised fantasies. And it does not matter, because it remains an extraordinary place. No pretentiousness, here, just plain quality. The lady running the place obviously knows what she is doing, and it shows on all fronts. Even the staff is the best we have had in Shetland. Café Fish is probably better, in terms of wow-factor of the seafood, but the whole package just might be better at Da Haaf. Desserts and prices help it shine that bright.
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| Also: ALIENS! FACE-HUGGERS! CHEST-BURSTERS! |
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| And a terrifyingly-looking football fish |
Replenished, we can now tackle the Scalloway Museum. In contrast with this morning (when it was closed), it is now uncomfortably packed. We struggle to park the car -- on the street, too close to a garage to my liking. Anyway. The museum is good and varied, offering information about geology, geopolitical history, the fishing industry, and a huge section dedicated to the Shetland Bus. I doze off, at some point (digestion, you understand), but I thoroughly enjoy the visit.
The time has come to make our way back to Lerwick and prepare to board our ferry. A strange feeling it is to leave those marvellous islands, a mix of beauty and inhospitality. The weather was not exactly welcoming, and the welcome in places, if polite and professional, was sometimes distant from the legendary Scottish hospitality. Then again, we are closer to Bergen than we are to Edinburgh. It is really a particular mix of Scandinalba.
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| In the ferry lane, this makes me giggle |
I am made to park on the lower deck of the vessel. Glups. The ramp is tight and steep. I am worried about coming out of it tomorrow, and especially about the other drivers and their passengers being too close to White Stag. Any scratch, however inadvertently caused, may cost me dearly. Well, it is outside of my control, now, innit.
On board and from the cabin, we spot Arctic terns in the harbour. As I stretch my neck to look out for more through the porthole, a huge harbour seal looks back at me, then, with a pirouette, dives beyond view. The ladies look to see it: too late. A gannet appears, as if to say farewell.
adc and I decide to surf the huge open deck on the back of the boat. More gannets and a few black guillemots. This place is pretty special.
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| This is totally normal. |
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| The lighthouse on the southern end of Bressay |
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Noss in the distance. Sorrow.
The weather there is clearly bad.
We have made the right decision. |
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| A great skua / bonxie flies by |
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As we pass Sumburgh Head, we decide to
go inside, lest the rocky sea throws us overboard |
