Blogging at 21:45 on Friday 5th April from intended overnighting spot N 60.14920°, W 01.05591° / http://maps.google.com/maps?q=loc:60.14920%2C-01.05591
Waiting for the ferry last night was a real drag. Compounding our general post-bedtime fatigue, the boat was also late arriving at Lerwick. By the time the ship started to be loaded we were both really tired and desperate to get to our cabin. Of course, that didn't happen. Making an already bad scenario even worse we were also held back. The loading crew wanted us to be the very last vehicle on: for 'logistical purposes'. Those logistical purposes also meant I had to (unlike every other vehicle) reverse about 100m down a ramp onto the boat, and then a further 50m or so once inside the hold to a position where crew with shackles were waiting. Fair to say the ship's superstructure and existing loaded vehicles made this a centimetre-critical and genuinely challenging affair. Fortunately it all worked out but it really was the tin hat on things. In the end, the sailing didn't get under way until about half past midnight.
On the plus side, the ship's staff were all pleasant and professional, the cabins clean and well appointed and - most importantly after last time - the crossing was simply bumpy, rather than sheer hell.
Come morning, in a reverse of fortunes, we were first off the boat at 07:30, and driving forward to boot. Those were seemingly the 'logistical reasons' at play, as every other vehicle aboard would have had to turn around within the hold - or reverse off the boat. Happily then, within minutes, we were parked up and taking in the sights of a sunny but frosty Lerwick.
Emma's read the 'Shetland' series of crime-drama novels by Ann Cleeves, so the sights we took in pretty much revolved around the characters and places depicted in the books. Happily for me, one of these points of fictional reference was the very non-fictional Peerie Café, where we had a splendid breakfast. It almost made the remaining unsolicited-but-enthusiastic guided tour around the capital worthwhile.
After stocking up on (eye-wateringly priced) groceries from a handy Co-Op, we took an early ferry from Lerwick to the island of Bressay. We were attracted to the island as not only does it have a splendid natural history interest, but it's also the unlikely base for the most northerly parkrun in the UK, which we hope to run tomorrow..
Throughout the day we've visited all corners of the island and it's been really enjoyable. It's sparsely populated, retains some good wilderness areas and is very pretty. A pleasant and unexpected surprise has been that all the residents we've encountered have been disarmingly friendly. Huge, genuine smiles and hearty waves have been the consistent order of the day. It would seem visitors are reasonably infrequent and genuinely welcome: or that we're being eyed-up for a grizzly end in a Wicker Man.
One resident we met was particularly engaging. He'd seen the truck whilst we were visiting an old mausoleum and come out of his house to chat. It turned out that in the late 80s he'd self-built an overlander based on a Land Rover 101 and, in it, had done a pretty extensive tour of Iceland and the Faroes. Moreover, he produced two albums of photos of the trip and they were genuinely interesting, not least because it turned out that we'd coincidentally been there at exactly the same time in August of 1992. We chatted about that and many other things for a good while before he asked us exactly where in England we were from.
We told him and to our utter amazement he then recounted how his uncle had lived in a particular remotely-situated house on the Humber estuary between the 1960s and 1980s. My spine tingled... and here's the Twilight Zone moment: not only do we know the house intimately, but have made a serious bid to buy it on two occasions now - even though it's not actually for sale. The current occupant holds my contact details and has pledged to call me if ever they decide to move. I personally covet that place more than any other dwelling in our home county.
You couldn't make it up. Here we are on a remote Island off the Shetland mainland at more than 60 degrees latitude north chatting to a total stranger with whom we have some surreal commonalities. Definitely one of those 'if you do stuff, you see stuff, and stuff happens' moments.
Only slightly haunted by the almost supernatural coincidences we spent the rest of the day slowly bumbling and watching nature.
There have been some great elevated views out to sea (pic) so we've spent a lot of time sea-watching. Best / new sightings today have been golden plover and a very quick glimpse of an otter swimming close to shore. Emma missed that unfortunately, especially so as much of her wildlife-watching efforts revolve around spotting these chaps.
Oh wait... can I still say 'chaps' as a metaphor for 'animals' without being cancelled these days?
#minefieldofhorseshit
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