Shetland Croft for Sale

My old buddy Tom Thumb has suggested that I retire with my lovely bride to Fethaland, a (presently) uninhabited Shetland isle. We traded a couple of jokes on the topic. A good chuckle was had by all.

I could be convinced to visit Shetland again. Under virtually any realistic circumstances, actually living there would be a pretty tough sell.

RAF Saxa Vord to Reopen

BBC Radio Shetland and Shetland News report that the British Ministry of Defence has confirmed that the Royal Air Force radar station at Saxa Vord shall be reopened. Readers of this blog may remember that I saw RAF Saxa Vord during my ill-fated geocaching adventure in the adjacent Hermaness wildlife refuge. As terrifying as that particular debacle ought to have been, I enjoy fond memories of looking across the little harbor to see the disused radar station.

I've lost track of the number of times that British interceptors have been scrambled to "escort" Russian military aircraft in the last eight or nine years. RAF Saxa Vord was disestablished in 2006, and the MoD cancelled the procurement of the BAE Systems Nimrod MRA4 maritime patrol aircraft in 2010. It stands to reason that with Russia flying sporadic bomber patrols adjacent to British air space, and generally attempting a post-Cold War strategic resurgence, the current coalition government's decision to reverse the Blair era decision to close RAF Saxa Vord makes strategic and economic sense.

I can't guarantee that the Shetland Ponies will refrain from comment on this topic in the coming days.

Catching Up with the Shetland Ponies

Lady Jaye joined me on the East Coast for the Summer, which was great. Unfortunately for you, the valued Operation Highlander readers, that sort of precluded me from doing much blogging. I'm going to be catching up over the next couple of months, and I wanted to start with some recent shenanigans from our good friends... The Shetland Ponies! When we last visited the lads, they were observing a loose bull in Lerwick. In this installment, they're joined by their friend, Ingrid, who just read a news story from May...

No installment featuring the Shetland Ponies would be complete without our intrepid curmudgeons, Sigurd and Thorfinn. There's been an unsettling story out of New Pitsligo in which a pony was sexually assaulted and stabbed, and had to be euthenized. (The reward for the apprehension of the perpetrator currently stands at £4000.) Unfortunately, the lads are familiar with the victim...

I'll wrap up with a story that didn't actually happen in Shetland, but given the popularity of the Unst Bus Shelter, one would be forgiven for thinking it had: Free travel pass for Aberdeen bus stop cockerel. That's right, not to be outdone by that Japanese cat that's a train station manager, some chicken in Aberdeen gets a free bus pass. I call shenanigans!

Debacle in Shetland: News About Fair Isle

Two years ago, I posted about my brief encounter with Fair Isle. For the uninitiated, Fair Isle is a tiny island located halfway between Orkney and Shetland. It's quite sparsely populated, famous for its sea bird colonies and knitwear exports, and extremely remote. Most of the island is owned by the National Trust for Scotland, which gets to interview anyone who wants to move there. In 2013, I said of Fair Isle:

"In all honesty, as we were passing by and I was taking pictures, all I could think about - probably informed by my bizarre experiences in Shetland - was how only a mongrel idiot would sail past Fair Isle and think to themself, "Hey, that looks like a great place to establish a colony!" It sort of makes you wonder whether the colonists were volunteers, or voluntold."

Well, wouldn't you know it, the population of Fair Isle is in decline, and the Shetland Islands Council and Highlands and Islands Enterprise are trying to change that.

Shetland Times: Plan to boost Fair Isle community

The Scotsman: Remote Fair Isle seeking new residents

BBC: Bid to boost Fair Isle population launched

Does anyone think I could get my application approved? Anyway, for a bit more footage of Fair Isle, click here to see a segment from the BBC's Coast program.

Bull on the Loose in Lerwick!

The lads may have had something to say about the recent loose bull incident in Lerwick...

Debacle in Shetland: Accidental and Intentional Panoramas

In early 2012, when Google Street View was still fairly new, I found myself stuck in an office in the Middle East with three months and nothing to do. Since I was already planning on going to Aberdeen, one thing I did to pass the time was to use Google Street View to scout places to visit in Orkney and Shetland. Both of these have obviously gotten a lot of attention on this blog. One place I was eager to visit was Sumburgh Head, the southernmost point in Shetland. I'd taken a screenshot (see above), and one thing I wanted to do was make my own panorama looking north from Sumburgh Head.

Once I got the photos uploaded to Facebook on the 4th of April 2013, I promptly forgot about actually making the panorama. Then, on the morning of the 15th of March 2015, nearly two years later, I was looking back through that Facebook album for this photo, and stumbled upon this:

My intentional photography aimed at producing a panorama became an accidental panorama on Facebook. I've gotten a lot better at using PowerPoint to "Photoshop" images over the last couple of years, so I spent about ten minutes, and voila, the image posted below was the result.

It looks like there's a gap between the left-most image and its neighbor. I guess that's just the risk you run. Under the circumstances, I'm not sure I'll be back to remedy the situation any time soon. It sort of makes me wonder when Shetland is green, because it seemed like Orkney was always Green whenever I was there, but there's obviously a significant difference between Shetland's foliage when the folks from Google visited in June of 2009, and when I visited nearly four years later.

The Shetland Ponies Discuss Up Helly Aa 2015

Up Helly Aa 2015 is upon us, and Sigurd and Thorfinn are ready.

Ohhhh, good grief, here we go...

Northern Isles Evening Programs

I've been listening to BBC Radio Orkney for years. I've recently started listening to selections from BBC Radio Shetland as well.

Most of Radio Orkney's evening programs focus on various genres of music, but for my money (which is to say, they're free), their flagship program is Whassigo. I've written about Whassigo previously, and I've been enjoying this year's editions of the program. Radio Orkney's evening programs aren't over for the year, but if you want to get caught up on Whassigo, you can listen to their shows from October 8th, November 5th, December 3rd, and January 7th. Even sitting at my desk listening on my headset at work, the show always reminds me of sitting and listening in Helgi's, or in my room at the guest house.

Meanwhile, Radio Shetland's closest corollary is the monthly (sort of?) 'Round Shetland Quiz. It's a bit more competitive than Whassigo, and less collegial, but it's sort of quintessentially Shetlandic... I assume? Anyway, their season isn't over, either, and you can listen to their quiz shows from October 22nd, November 5th, November 26th, and January 7th. Unfortunately, Radio Shetland doesn't enable the download link on any of their programs. (If anyone from Radio Shetland is reading this: please enable the download links on some of your programs.)

Enjoy!

The Shetland Ponies do Up Helly Aa

A few months ago, my cartoons of the Shetland Ponies - inspired in part by the famous Orcadian comic The Giddy Limit - debuted on this blog in the post following the referendum result. The annual Shetlandic festival Up Helly Aa (pronounced "Up Hell-Yaa") takes place in a couple of weeks, and Sigurd and Thorfinn are excited for the festivities.

On one of my trips between Aberdeen and Kirkwall aboard either the Hjaltland or the Hrossey, I met some extremely kind Shetlanders. I told them that I'd visited Shetland, and that it hadn't gone particularly well, and they insisted that I was absolutely going to come up and celebrate Up Helly Aa with them. I feel like that voyage took place in November or maybe early December. I left Scotland in late December having never heard from any of them despite having given them my business card and expressed some interest in coming up to the festival. Oh, well, c'est la vie... Or, as the Orcadians might say, "Ah've jus' gottae get awn wae hid, beuy."

Also, this may not be the first time Sigurd and Thorfinn have discussed Up Helly Aa...

If you're a Shetlander who happens to be seeing these, have fun at the festival, and try to stay safe!

Musings on Small Scottish Islands

My daily news intake includes news from Aberdeen, Orkney and Shetland - specifically the BBC's RSS feed, and BBC Radio Orkney's Facebook, and Soundcloud pages. Last week, I saw an article entitled Tidal energy project to be constructed in the Pentland Firth. Having crossed the Pentland Firth on a number of occasions, I was interested to see what was going on.

Orkney has become a prominent research site for marine renewable energy, particularly tidal energy. The new turbines will be constructed just north of the isle of Stroma, which has traditionally been considered part of Caithness. (You could theoretically swim from the Pentalina's pier to Stroma, but with the currents and the coldness of the water, I wouldn't recommend it!) Stroma was abandoned decades ago, and the infrastructure is apparently in a state of slow decay. Having looked at that picture (which is featured in the BBC article and can be viewed here), I think that the picture was probably taken somewhere around here. It's a neat island to pass by on the ferry, and if you the boat gets close enough you might see the Swilkie whirlpool. You can see some of the disused cottages as well. Stroma is the largest of several islands in the Pentland Firth, the others being the Pentland Skerries (the largest of these being Muckle Skerry, which hosts a lighthouse) and Swona, which was abandoned by its inhabitants in the 1970's and hosts a herd of feral cattle.

This sort of reminded me of another picture, and I inadvertantly found it (and I think I may have either seen or even purchased a post card of it at one point): Foula, in Shetland. I've talked about Foula before, as I saw it from Sumburgh head, and then subsequently on the observation deck of the ferry while leaving Shetland. I had wondered if it was the Fair Isle, but subsequently learned that the Fair Isle was south, not west, of the main Shetland islands; and also, just over the horizon. Being that far from the main isles of Shetland, it's one of the most remote points in the United Kingdom. I love that photo, which was taken in the 1960's. It's right here. You can read more about Foula here and here. Unlike Stroma, Swona, or the Pentland Skerries, Foula is still sparsely populated. You can see more pictures of the Foula post office here, here and here.

Since the photos above aren't my own, I'll do the gentlemanly thing and cite them accordingly. Per Geograph, here's the citation for that phone box on Stroma:

Telephone box (disused), Stroma

This telephone box dates from the 1960's when the last of the islanders left for pastures new. The track to the left of the telephone box goes down to the South Harbour.

© Copyright George Brown and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence.

And from Wikimedia, here's the one for Foula:

"Foula post office" by Dr Julian Paren - geograph. Licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons - http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Foula_post_office.jpg#mediaviewer/File:Foula_post_office.jpg

These are the sorts of islands that one might be forgiven for considering settling on: remote, solitary, and beautiful. That said, they certainly have their drawbacks, among these being extreme isolation, a lack of fresh water, and the kind of wind that must be experienced to be believed.

I may try to post about a few more islands in the coming weeks, be they in Orkney or Shetland. Stay tuned.

Orkney, Shetland, and Secession

While I haven't been in a position to blog lately, I've been doing my best to keep abreast of the Northern Isles' sentiments on the impending secession referendum. There have been several developments of note lately.

A couple of weeks ago, Scottish First Minister and SNP front man Alex Salmond visited Orkney to talk address the Our Islands, Our Future campaign (of which I've spoken previously)...

First Minister Alex Salmond has set out new powers proposed for Scotland's island authorities, in the event of a yes vote in September's referendum. Speaking in Orkney at lunchtime he said the proposals recognised the unique contribution that island communities make to modern Scotland. Under the plans Orkney, Shetland and the Western Isles would receive 100% of net revenues from seabed leases for developments such as renewable energy and fish farming. Orkney + Shetland MP and Scottish Secretary Alistair Carmichael described the proposals as a 'naked bribe'.

... and was simultaneously protested by a local councillor:

Stromness and south isles councillor Maurice Davidson has used the opening ceremony for Copland's Dock to make a point to First Minister Alex Salmond. While Mr Salmond was carrying out the opening ceremony Mr Davidson appeared sailing a traditional Orkney yole with a message for the First Minister hanging from the mast. The protest continued as Mr Davidson sailed around the pier displaying his message about replacement ferries for the county.

The message on the sign alludes to some issues I've discussed here and here. The sign suggests that islands that are strong SNP constituencies receive better funding for their ferry services, while Orkney and Shetland (which vote fairly consistently for the Liberal Democrats) are marginalized in this regard. As I've mentioned previously, in the unlikely event that Scots vote to secede from the United Kingdom, there's talk of Orkney and Shetland remaining part of the United Kingdom, or even becoming independent themselves. (Shetland was specifically highlighted in a recent edition of the BBC's Global News Podcast, at 23:26 - it should be available until mid-July 2014 before it's taken offline.)

With the referendum less than three months away, time is quickly running out for Alex Salmond and the SNP to convince voters that they have a viable plan. While I'm obviously ineligible to vote in the referendum, I nonetheless remain unconvinced.

Debacle in Shetland: Glimpsing Kirkwall, and Final Reflections

On some nights, the lifeline ferry service stops in Kirkwall on its way back down to Aberdeen. Although it was dark, I got to witness the last few minutes of our transit past Shapinsay into Kirkwall and the pier at Hatston. The observation deck was closed - presumably to stop people from jumping into the North Sea after dark - so I wasn't able to get pictures of Wideford Hill, but if you look carefully at the center of that picture, you can make out the red sandstone exterior of St. Magnus Cathedral. As the debacle in Shetland had ended just a few hours earlier, it was a great thrill to get even a few minutes' glimpse of this island paradise.

The next morning, I arrived back in Aberdeen. In the intervening months, my view of Shetland has softened a bit. As I look back at some of the pictures I took, and as I've written this series of posts about my adventures there, it seems obvious that although Shetland wasn't what I was expecting, part of the debacle involved a lack of due diligence on my part, or simple misunderstandings. Regardless, Shetland boasts some truly breathtaking scenery - like this valley north of Voe, pictured - and genuinely friendly people. And, let's face it, Orkney's a tough standard to meet, so my expectations probably set me up for failure. The whole thing reminds me of an old episode of M*A*S*H titled Period of Adjustment, which had a pretty touching exchange between two great characters.

Colonel Potter: "Let's, uh, clear the air, Klinger. I think we both realize you're no Radar."
Corporal Klinger: "So they tell me, sir."
Colonel Potter: "But by the same token, Radar is no Klinger."
Corporal Klinger: "I don't follow you, sir."
Colonel Potter: "Folks were awfully fond of Henry Blake when he ran this fort, weren't they?"
Corporal Klinger: "Well, sure, the colonel was a top-notch kind of a guy."
Colonel Potter: "You bet he was. And believe me, my first days in his shadow were a mite uneasy. Nobody was jumping for joy over me. I was no Henry Blake, never tried to be. That didn't mean I was better or worse, just different. The people here gave me a chance to get comfortable and to make this job Sherman Potter's. I guess maybe I forgot that when you took over for Radar. What I'm trying to tell you is you need the time to take this job and make it Max Klinger's."

Or, if you prefer an example from Saturday Night Live...

Colin Quinn: You know how you go to your favorite bar, and your local bartender isn't there? You ask, "Where's Jeff?" "Jeff no longer works here, I'm Steve." And you're thinking, "Hey, who's this idiot? I like Jeff." But you still want your drink? And even though Steve doesn't mix your drink the same way you're used to, like Jeff, you still like the same bar, you don't want to have to go to a different bar. And even Steve might feel kinda bad because Jeff trained him. Jeff showed him how to work the cash register, where the tonic was on the soda gun, who tips, who doesn't? Well, I'm Steve. What can I get you?

At any rate, my experience in Shetland was peculiar, but in retrospect, I'm glad for it. In fact, I'm glad that Shetland wasn't like Orkney - it makes Orkney that much more special, because it remains unique, while Shetland has a character all its own. And as with most of my trips, I can say that I've been to a place where almost nobody goes. When you go to interesting and remote places, that's where you encounter the unexpected, and sometimes it leaves you with blisters, sore legs, dirty trouser cuffs, and - this is the good part - a great story to tell.

When my friends back home talk about Scotland, they invariably ask about Edinburgh, because that's all they really know. In all honesty, Edinburgh is aboutthe most boring city I've ever been to - nearly as boring as War and Society in Renaissance Europe 1450-1620 by J.R. Hale; and despite the Geocaching Catastrophe, or the chaos in the south, I have much more vivid memories of two days in Shetland than I have of multiple trips to Edinburgh - save for finding Waldo, of course. And when you figure in the warm hospitality of Bolts Care Hire, the Glen Orchy Guest House, and the Gurkha Kitchen, plus the great musical selections I heard courtesy of Shetland's radio stations, do I really have that much room to complain? Probably not.

I'd still recommend Orkney over Shetland; in fact, I'd recommend Orkney over just about anywhere else in the world. That said, Shetland's got its charms, and you could do a lot worse for a holiday - Beirut, for example.

Debacle in Shetland: Fair Isle

As the MV Hjaltland passed by Sumburgh Head, the RGU professor and I were eagerly searching for Fair Isle. Fair Isle is considered the "most remote location in the United Kingdom", although "most remote location in the British Isles" might be more apt since the United Kingdom technically includes overseas territories like Tristan da Cunha (the most remote inhabited archipelago in the world), among others. That said, Fair Isle is pretty remote since regular travel there requires one to get to Shetland first, which is already a chore in and of itself. Anyway, we spotted an island in the distance, west of Sumburgh Head, but neither of us had a map available so we weren't able to figure out what island we were actually looking at. We were disappointed that the island in question was so far away.

In fact, the island we had been looking at was Foula. About two hours into the passage, the 1MC announced that we would be passing by Fair Isle shortly. It turned out that the ship had been pointed almost directly at Fair Isle, and although it should have been visible, our view from the stern observation deck was blocked by the ship's bridge. Once we approached Fair Isle, we were only a few hundred yards off its west coast - so close that once we reached the south end, we could see individual houses within the island's only community, and could have seen its inhabitants if any of them had cared to come out and wave at the ferry. (The ferry passes by daily, so I assume that they're sort of over it by now.) Fair Isle is known for its woolen goods and its bird observatory, which apparently attracts a bunch of transient volunteer workers. You can have an overhead look here.

Like Orkney and Shetland, Fair Isle was settled by the Vikings. In all honesty, as we were passing by and I was taking pictures, all I could think about - probably informed by my bizarre experiences in Shetland - was how only a mongrel idiot would sail past Fair Isle and think to themself, "Hey, that looks like a great place to establish a colony!" It sort of makes you wonder whether the colonists were volunteers, or voluntold. The island apparently enjoys fairly mild temperatures, but having experienced the extreme wind you can get through Orkney, I can only imagine what it's like to live on a little scrap of rock in the North Sea with absolutely no shelter from the wind and the rain. I love remote, sparsely inhabited locations, and Fair Isle is too remote and sparsely inhabited even for my tastes. That said, I was thrilled at the opportunity to pass by it - honestly, how many people can say that they've seen Fair Isle with their own eyes? - and can add it to the list of things that I can brag about, but that I'll never feel obligated to do again, ever.

My adventure was almost finished, but not quite. There was one last treat in store...

Debacle in Shetland: Leaving Shetland

As my debacle in Shetland drew to a close, I decided to get to the ferry terminal early - not generally a good sign. I was eager to leave Shetland and get back to Aberdeen. In the intervening two months, my opinion of Shetland has softened a bit - it's not that bad. Regardless, there wasn't anything that I could get to and back in just two hours, so I camped out in the terminal with my gear and my Kindle until it was time to board. At that point, I got an Orkney flag T-shirt in the gift shop, secured my gear in my cabin, and then went up to the observation deck. I wanted to watch as I left Shetland.

Having taken pictures while we were approaching Lerwick, it was interesting to take more pictures thirty-six hours later after such unexpected adventures. As we moved away from the ferry terminal in Lerwick harbor I saw a one or two small ferries running from the Shetland mainland across to Bressay, and we passed back by the Bressay Lighthouse that I'd taken some pictures of before. As we moved south, past a massive cemetery on the south end of Lerwick, and got into more open waters, we passed a small red ship I'd seen on my way down to Sumburgh Head and going back north again. I have no idea what its purpose was, or why it was anchored off Gulber Wick, but it made for a decent picture.

As I stood on the weather deck, chatting with a professor from the Robert Gordon University - the University of Aberdeen's arch rivals, for some reason - we passed by Sumburgh Head, where I'd been just a few hours before. We had a great view, across the lowland between Sumburgh Head and the hill at the southeast end of Sumburgh Airport, of Foula, the most remote of the islands of Shetland. We had a lot of wind, and it was quite cold, but it was worth it to get some great pictures that I hope never to have another opportunity to take again.

I was glad to leave Shetland behind, and I can't count it among my favorite vacations of all time. Even so, I'm glad that I went. Most people, even those who bother to travel, don't go to places like Shetland. Shetland is remote, it's not especially exciting, and it lacks many of the charms that Orcadians take for granted. Even so, there's a special quality to a place like Shetland, something that can't be replicated. Even in our modern, connected world, it still takes effort to get to a place like Shetland. For all of the jokes about shagging sheep, the folk in Shetland are all accommodating and friendly, and that's something you don't get in, say, Beirut. Even though my trip became a sort of running joke, I'm still glad that places like Shetland exist - in fact, I'd like to settle down in a place like Shetland. Just... Not Shetland.

Of course, my adventure wasn't yet complete. More to come.

Debacle in Shetland: The Gurkha Kitchen

Aside from the friendly and helpful demeanor of the Shetlanders, and the fact that I came away with a bunch of stories and little the worse for wear (I'll take a couple of blisters and muddy trousers over the shin splints and gastrointestinal turmoil of Beirut any day), Shetland's greatest saving grace came from the East... The Far East. After my geocaching adventure, I was pretty tired, and pretty hungry. I got to my digs - the Glen Orchy Guest House (pronounced "Ork-ey", not "or-chy"), broke out my Kindle, and searched for restaurants in Lerwick. To my surprise, Lerwick boasts a Nepalese restaurant!

Regular readers of the blog will remember my excitement in mid-April at having discovered Aberdeen's own Gurkha Kitchen. Also called the Gurkha Kitchen (apparently one of at least three "Gurkha Kitchens" in the United Kingdom, the other being located in Oxted, Surrey), Lerwick's restaurant boasts a beautiful dining room (Aberdeen's doesn't, but they deliver) decorated with a wealth of Nepalese and Gurkha memorabilia. I ended up going there for dinner, and again for lunch the next day. The naan in the Lerwick restaurant is, unquestionably, the best naan I've ever had, and I've had a lot of naan in a lot of places over the years. The Lerwick Gurkha Kitchen even served dishes featuring Shetland lamb - apparently Shetland is known for its lamb (which is fitting, because there's pretty much nothing there but sheep), while Orkney is known for its beef.

As I mentioned in that previous post about the Aberdeen Gurkha Kitchen, I've worked with the Nepalese in the past. They're extremely professional, polite, gregarious, and I could go on. When I oversaw teams of them in the Middle East, I quickly learned that I could trust them implicitly, far moreso than any of my American counterparts. For example, I can remember one Nepalese guard named Raju who had been assigned to watch some day laborers. By sheer chance, I discovered him still standing his post, after my American employee and all of the day laborers had left for the evening, simply because he had not been properly relieved from his post. That's a textbook example of the loyalty and dedication of the Nepalese people. Between experiences like that, and the excellence of the Gurkha Kitchen during an otherwise challenging vacation to Shetland, I was compelled to tag GBU-16 in the following Facebook status update shortly before boarding the MV Hjaltland to leave Lerwick:

One of the most important lessons I've learned in my life is this: when you've gotten yourself in over your head, you can always count on the people of Nepal to rescue you, if they happen to be present. Right, GBU-16?

GBU-16 was still in Nepal at that point, and within just a few hours, she had replied:

3 days without internet or hot shower, wake up at 6 local time to begin a 6 hour bus ride through spiralling, bumpy roads in the wild to get on top of a mountain to a place called Bandipur (local fauna: 9% locals; 90% German tourists; 1% the three of us), for 3 more days of research, no internet, no hot shower. At least the scenery is breathtaking and Nepalese people are lovely as always. Does this answer your question, Tom?

In that last post about Aberdeen's Gurkha Kitchen, I discussed the history of the Gurkhas. The Nepalese take the example and prestige of the Gurkhas very seriously, and draw great pride from it - as evidenced by the fact that pretty much every Nepalese restaurant, such as the Gurkha Brigade restaurant in Edinburgh (where GBU-16 and I may take a day trip to at some point, just because) and the three Gurkha Kitchens - are all named after the Gurkhas. One section of my dissertation will discuss the Gurkhas in some detail, particularly their ability to communicate and build relationships with the Afghans. You can watch a video about the Gurkhas in Afghanistan below.


For the rest of my life, I'll remember that an otherwise tragic trip to Shetland began to improve because a Nepalese family made me feel both welcome and well fed. If you find yourself in Lerwick - staying at the Glen Orchy, and driving a car from Bolts Car Hire, because both will treat you right - be sure to stop in to the Gurkha Kitchen for a great meal. It's a decision you won't regret.

Debacle in Shetland: Radio in Shetland

As I mentioned a couple of days ago, I derive a lot of pleasure from listening to radio stations in interesting locales. One of the highlights of spending some time in Shetland was listening to the radio as I drove my hired car around the islands.

Folks in the States will be familiar with NPR/PBS, which you can find in most areas of the States. Of course, NPR/PBS tends to carry a lot of local programming. In the United Kingdom, the BBC is sort of like NPR/PBS on steroids. It's available pretty much everywhere, with multiple stations catering to a variety of audiences and tastes. It's sort of difficult to describe, because it's so different than what radio is like in the States.

Shetland has its own BBC radio presence, and you can listen to their morning bulletin and Good Evening Shetland program(me)s online. In addition to BBC Radio Shetland, there's also the Shetland Islands Broadcasting Company, which plays current hits (more on that tomorrow) and regular Shetland news updates - I can't remember whether or not those updates are the Shetland morning bulletin. When I was in Shetland, the hourly bulletin was focused on a British television drama about Shetland that was going to be continued. The bulletins combined local news with a sort of collective excitement that anyone outside of Shetland would know that Shetland was still there.

One of the cool things that I remember from listening to Radio Shetland was a song that was played a few times while I was driving around. It's by the local band Toxic Flames, and it's called Catch a Shadow. I was sort of skeptical at first, but it turns out that the band consists entirely of high school students who have written, recorded, and distributed their music, and done it all in Lerwick. Have a look at the video:


I, for one, downloaded the mp3 from their website, and was glad that SIBC had brought the song to my attention. In fact, as I'll note tomorrow, SIBC Radio brought several songs to my attention.

Debacle in Shetland: Chaos in the South

After my trip to Sumburgh Head, I needed to head back north to Lerwick in time for some chow, and to catch the ferry back to reality. I had made pretty quickly for Sumburgh Head in the first place, but I decided to snap a few pictures on the return trip. The first occasion was just south of Sumburgh Airport, Shetland's main air artery. So, what would make this particular spot worthy of photographic attention? Simple: the road intersects the runway! And when I say "intersects the runway", I mean that they have barriers that get lowered whenever a plane needs to take off. No, I'm not making it up. You can see it here. Un. Believable. As a terrorism expert myself, I couldn't fathom that there was actually just a meager barrier between a vehicle and the airport. Then again, to paraphrase Deputy Travis Junior from the hit comedy Reno 911(!): "I think any terrorist who would wanna do some kinda thing in Shetland... Has never been to Shetland."

What else was going on the entire time I was at Sumburgh Head? Oh, nothing but a Super Puma doing touch-and-goes. Why? Because it's Shetland, and the rules be damned!

One of my favorite things to do while I'm overseas is to send post cards to friends, loved ones, and even random strangers if the opportunity arises. I needed to get both post cards and postage so that my friends and family could join me in commemorating my debacle in Shetland. I had seen a combination convenience store/post office (many of the United Kingdom's post offices are run as private franchises) on my way down to Sumburgh Head, so I kept my eye out and turned into the car park once I'd gotten back there. Once I saw the sign for the place, I decided that it was a moral imperative that I photograph said sign. Just have a look at all of the different functions that this particular shop in Dunrossness serves! I want to be quite clear, though, that although the sign had me shaking my head, everyone in the shop was extremely friendly and helpful, as was everyone in Shetland. As I noted earlier, Beirut is my epitome of a bad vacation, and one of the things Shetland can consistently boast that beats Beirut like a redheaded stepchild is the friendly and helpful attitudes of its residents.

I can't remember any more chaos off the top of my head, but I will always remember the southern end of Shetland as a sort of Bizarro Orkney, where nothing makes sense and the laughs just keep on comin'. Once I had left the vicinity of Sumburgh Head, it was back to Lerwick with me!

Debacle in Shetland: Sumburgh Head

During my waning weeks in the Middle East, I started planning my invasion of Scotland. Since I had been to Orkney in 2004 and loved it, and since Shetland was even further out, it became one of my major travel goals. If only I knew, ladies and gentlemen, if only I knew. At any rate, one of the spots that I zeroed in on was the extreme south end of Shetland, Sumburgh ("Sum-burra") Head. I even had a look at it using Google Street View, took a screenshot, and posted it to Facebook as my profile picture. (This was before Mark Zuckerberg and his minions cursed us with Timeline; I say this because the GSV screenshot would have made a decent cover photo.)

My initial plan for my second and final day in Shetland was to drive back to the top of Unst, since I hadn't had a chance to take pictures after the geocaching debacle the day before. I got to the ferry landing for the float from the Shetland mainland to Yell, and waited... And waited... And waited. I just missed one ferry, then waited ages for the second ferry (and didn't make it on because the queue was too long), and finally decided that I didn't have time to keep waiting and do both the north end and the south end. Since I had already done the north end, I decided to pull out of the queue and head south.

The drive south was pretty decent, and included a brief stop in Hillside/Voe (north of Lerwick) to take some pictures. Something like an hour later, I arrived at Sumburgh Head, a peninsula and hill that's famous for its lighthouse and its bird sanctuary. (I was hoping to see some puffins, but I was apparently too early to see them this year.) The hill was much easier to walk up than Hermaness Hill (or Herma Ness Hill - Shetland can't seem to figure out how to spell it), and the view was fantastic. I spent about ten minutes walking around, taking pictures, and enjoying some pretty permissive weather. After walking about as far south as I could, I stood at one location and took enough pictures to make a big panorama from (and I may post it once I actually do it). One of my most vivid memories of my time at Sumburgh Head was the helicopter that was doing touch-and-goes at nearby Sumburgh airport - but more on that in a later post.

By now, my trip to Shetland had become a sort of running punchline, but my trip to Sumburgh Head was certainly one of the highlights. It's always nice to set a goal of somewhere to visit, and then actually pull it off - even if that location is in Shetland. Of course, there were a few more adventures for that particular day...

Debacle in Shetland: The Geocaching Catastrophe

As I mentioned previously, my goal upon reaching Shetland was to see as much of Shetland as possible by finding as many geocaches as possible. My goal was to start at the top of Unst with Shetland's - and the United Kingdom's - most northerly geocache. In retrospect, it would have been a good plan in a few months, assuming that I complete my physical training plan. In April, it probably nearly cost me my life.

I read the description of the cache in question, which stated that:

this cache requires a walk of approx 2.5Km/1.5miles each way from the car park above the visitors' centre at the old shore station

Based on that description, I figured that the cache would be a bit of a hike, but no real issue to get to. In fact, I was almost immediately off track. After walking for maybe half a mile, I stayed on the main path, missing the turn that I should have taken in order to take the most direct route up Hermaness Hill. This took me on a sort of winding northwesterly route, rather than due north toward the hill's summit.

When the path terminated, my Garmin eTrex Vista said that I was still nowhere near the cache, which I had expected to be near the end of the path. I decided that I had come that far already, so I may as well press on. I walked further until I came to a sort of gentle ridgeline. The GPS was pointing far away from where I was standing and I eventually decided, against my better judgment, to give up the altitude that I'd already gained in order to descend the hill. I expected that, once I was on the next hillside, the GPS would point me toward the northern edge of the hill, and I could walk around it to get the cache.

Alas, no.

In fact, the further around the hill I went, the more sure I became that the GPS was, in fact, pointing me toward the top of the hill. At that point, I had a choice: I could climb back up the hill I'd just dismounted and go back the way I'd come, or I could climb the taller hill in front of me and keep looking for the cache. I made what I'm still not sure was the right choice: to live my motto of "keep fighting" and keep looking for the cache. Feeling fairly warm and sweaty on an unseasonably warm and sunny Shetland day, I made slow progress up what turned out to be Hermaness Hill, biting off a little piece of it at a time. Because the hill's slope was so gradual, every time I thought I was going to get up to the top, there was another nub to climb over. After the better part of four hours, three or four miles of walking, and two hills, I made it to the top and found the geocache in short order. I quickly signed my name in the log, and set about getting back to my hired car.

It's at this point of the story that I'd like to mention just how concerned I'd become. I had eaten literally nothing that morning, and I had only taken in a couple of swallows of water to clear my palate after brushing my teeth. There was virtually no mobile phone reception, and by the time I reached the summit of the hill it had been a solid hour since I had seen anyone. I'm nowhere near as physically fit as I ought to be. Factoring all of those things in, it was obvious that I needed to get back to my car and head for civilization.

Remember earlier, when I missed the turn-off from the path to go straight up the hill? Well, the path down to the car park from the top of Hermaness Hill was practically non-existent. It was marked by wooden stakes stuck in the ground every so often, barely visible from one to another. A variety of crude bridges, some of them seemingly built from cargo pallets, crossed various drainage streams, but in many cases these weren't the best routes across the terrain. In fact, the entire hillside was fairly treacherous moorland, requiring very careful footwork and the occasional leap in order to make it from top to bottom. In all honesty, had I made the correct turn-off at the beginning of the journey, I almost certainly would have called the fool's errand off at the very beginning. After about an hour, maybe a bit less since I was going downhill, my path rejoined the main path at a point where I would have never guessed I was supposed to have turned off, and from there it was only about ten minutes' walk back to my car.

When all was said and done, I had walked five or six miles, climbed two hills, fell four times, trashed one of the two pairs of trousers I'd brought on the trip, and blown about three more hours of my time in Shetland than I had intended. I later looked at another website - this time, one specifically about hiking in Shetland - and found that the second hill was more than six hundred feet in elevation, and my ascent had begun at the car park, which was no more than about fifty feet above sea level. I also checked that listing at the geocaching website, and learned that while I had read and reviewed the cache description, I had failed to note that the terrain difficulty rating was 3.5 out of 5. Had I twisted my ankle or something, I hesitate to think what would have happened to me. And what did I get for it? Picturesque vistas of Muckle Flugga and RAF Saxa Vord, a massive blister on my left big toe, and the right to say that I almost died on the Isle of Unst while seeking out a geocache. In retrospect, I should have done a better job of managing my risks - lesson learned.

With at least an hour and a half of driving ahead of me, and two ferry rides, I had no time to see or photograph Unst or Yell in more detail. As I drove back from the farthest reaches of Unst to check in at my digs in Lerwick, Shetland stopped looking like Wyoming and began to more closely resemble one of my two least favorite states of the Union: Oklahoma.

Debacle in Shetland: From Lerwick to Hermaness

After a good night's sleep on the ferry, the MV Hrossey deposited me at the ferry terminal in Lerwick on Tuesday morning. That was the point at which my adventures in Shetland began.

I waited around for a few minutes for the chap (Bob, if I remember correctly) from Bolts Car Hire to arrive to sort out my hire car. As I've insinuated previously, I'm going to have plenty of negative or non-complimentary things to say about Shetland, but I'm going to give credit wherever it's due. I have nothing but good things to say about Bolts Car Hire. They were professional, my car was exactly what I needed, and the price was reasonable. I would absolutely recommend them to anyone who needed to hire a car in Shetland.

My initial reaction to Shetland was that parts of it that reminded me of Wyoming. There was a valley that ran from Lerwick to right around Voe that reminded me of a stretch of territory north of Cody, Wyoming. That was a good thing - I love Wyoming. My goal was to head for the northern end of the Isle of Unst to find the United Kingdom's most northerly geocache. I turned north out of the ferry terminal car park and drove across half of the Shetland mainland, then took a ferry to the Isle of Yell. After driving up the length of Yell (and seeing signs for "Chinese Night" at the Mid Yell Boating Club - whatever that's all about), I took a second ferry onto Unst. Unst is the most northerly inhabited island in the United Kingdom, and is apparently famous for its bus shelter... ? During the brief (ten minutes?) ferry transit from Yell to Unst, I was able to get myself a few feet off of the main deck to snap a few pictures.

The foliage on the Mainland, Yell, and Unst was very brown, and the islands are literally teeming with sheep. They're sparsely populated, like most areas of Orkney. I've not visited many of the islands of Orkney, but I've hit a number of them - more than I visited while I was in Shetland - and Shetland's outskirts seem a bit less kept up than even the remote parts of Orkney that I've visited.

Aside from some vaguely interesting scenery, there wasn't much to see once I got to Unst. I drove through a little village called Haroldswick (or maybe it was Baltasound?), and took a westerly turn to get me nearer to the geocache I was seeking out, and parked at the Hermaness Visitor Center. I learned upon arriving that Hermaness is a national nature reserve, specifically providing a refuge for migratory birds. (All I saw there was seagulls and sheep - lots of sheep.)

The circumstances under which I almost lost my life in the Hermaness National Nature Reserve shall be the topic of my next post on my Debacle in Shetland.