Whale path, swan road
Jul. 13th, 2025 11:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dolorosa_12I returned home last night after a week's holiday in Shetland, where the weather was a delightfully consistent 14-15 degrees, the views were dramatic, and the ocean was a restorative and constant presence. Thank you to all who offered advice a few posts back — between your tips and our own research, Matthias and I enjoyed a trip that was a perfect mix of outdoorsy walking and views, museums and learning, and good food and serendipitous wandering.
I did journal a little bit while I was there, so if you want more details of what the trip involved, click behind the cut to see the transcript.
4-5 July
To Shetland, then: two trains (including a comically tiny cabin on the Caledonian Sleeper to Aberdeen, with bunk beds), ten hours (fry-up, art gallery, fish lunch, beachfront walk, pub) in Aberdeen in the pouring rain, and then overnight in the sleeper ferry. This final stage of the trip was like a dream. We were in an outer cabin (which seemed palatial after the sleeper train) with a window open to the sunlit water, watching the sun set over the silvery, undulating waves, and the ocean unfolding like a road beside us. As we left the harbour in Aberdeen, a massive pod of dolphins frolicked in front of the ship, leaping out of the water in playful exuberance: an auspicious beginning. I slept in the arms of the sea, and woke as the ferry slid past the first of the cloud-wreathed islands of Shetland.
Day 1 involved getting the lay of the land before we could check into our accommodation — walking the length and breadth of Lerwick, pottering around the shops (so much knitware! so many puffin-themed homewares! local whisky and gin! an amazing bookshop!) and scoping out all the cafes and restaurants. I managed to snag a dinner reservation in a French/Basque restaurant that two separate acquaintances had recommended upon learning that we were going to Shetland, and so we feasted smugly upon scallops, and the best gazpacho I have ever eaten, while a gale howled outside, before returning to our little white cottage annex, and sleeping.
6 July
Day 2 was a slow start, as we finalised the week's plans over tea and coffee, with my planning email and the BBC Weather website open. Then we wandered through the Sunday ghost town, ate a big lunch, and walked 7km out around a headland dotted with sheep, WWII-era artillery emplacements, and lots of hardy thistles, descending to the idyllic white sand beach of Sound, and detouring through the Iron Age ring fort of the Broch of Clickimin. I felt windswept and alive.
7 July
Day 3 saw us head out to Eshaness to do the cliff walk. This involved one hour on a regular bus which wound its way through villages and windfarms, collecting locals (including one woman who needed to go five minutes down the road to the next village — the end of the line — to do her shopping, and then be taken home; the driver was going to wait ten minutes and then collect her, and he refused to take payment), and then changing to a connecting 'bus' that was actually just a guy with an eight-seater car. He would return, four hours later, to meet us and take us back: exactly enough time to do the 10km cliff hike at a slow pace, stopping for lunch.
The hike itself starts at an uninhabited lighthouse, along dramatic cliffs lashed by waves from the north, dotted with nesting birds. You sweep through peat bogs filled with sheep (each nervous ewe paired with its jumpy lamb) and wildflowers, and descend to a loch and a broch. We communed with the sea — in my preferred state of Caspar David Friedrich-esque stark, raging squall — and clambered all over the stone ruins at the loch, before being collected by the driver for our return. After a brief sojourn on Hillswick beach, we were collected by the bus, and headed back to Lerwick for a cosy evening lounging around the cottage eating Nepalese take-away.
8 July
Day 4 was another bus-plus-eight-seater-car-guy affair, as we headed off to St Ninian's Isle, which is conected to the main island by a striking tombolo. We did a 5km loop around the island — empty except for tourists, a massive colony of rabbits, nesting sea birds on every cliff, and the ubiquitous sheep. Other than a ruined chapel, there is no sign of human habitation, as all the stones from the houses of its departed population were taken to use for stone walls dividing its fields.
In contrast to the windswept Eshaness cliffs, St Ninian's — in the south of the island — was sun-drenched and still, the only movement the gambolling of the sheep and the distant crash of the waves below. If we'd had more time before our pickup, I would have availed myself of its mobile beach-side sauna and cold clear beaches, as it was, St Ninian's will join my long list of missed swimming opportunities.
The bus brought us home (seated in front of two teenage girls speaking in tones of incredulous horror at the thought of living in isolation on the remote island of Yell — from the 'urban metropolis' perspective of residents of the tiny main island village of Bigton), where we walked up the hill from our accommodation to Shetland distillery, and what turned into an impromptu tasting, facilitated by a friendly and gregarious shop assistant. We'd assumed we would need to book a scheduled tasting, so the ability to try their four whiskies spontaneously was an unexpected bonus. We left with one bottle, and some whisky-infused marmalade.
9 July
Day 5 dawned with an early start, meeting in the biting foggy morning at 8.30am to take a boat tour out to Noss, an uninhabited island swarming with nesting seabirds. The boat was a small catamaran, crewed by an indomitable husband-and-wife team who have been running these tours since the early 1990s. They took us out over choppy waters, skating between islands, into caves, and right up against towering cliffs teeming with nesting birds, which swooped above us in a riotous cacophony. It was an awesome experience, in the old sense of the word. I felt humbled in my smallness against the endless, restless sea. We pulled into a secluded bay in Noss for tea and coffee, watched over by the island's two custodians (two women this year) who live in its sole house, guiding walking groups and observing the state of the seabird colonies.
And then it was back to Lerwick — around Bressay — shivering, salt-washed, and ecstatic.
We warmed up in a cafe, wandered through homeware and knitware shops, and walked 2km or so out of town to Lerwick's beer brewery, which is perched on an isolated hill. The vibe in the crowded taproom was great — my favourite hospitality establishment on the islands so far in terms of this overall mood and sense of welcome. I don't drink beer, but I had a great time.
We returned through fog into grey horizons, my cheeks red and singing in the cold air, hearts full and open.
10 July
Day 6 — our final full day in Shetland — and it was off to Scalloway. This village was formerly Shetland's capital, but it's now much dwarfed by Lerwick, although it still contains a working harbour, fishing and other industry, and the Shetland campus of the University of the Highlands and Islands (where we ate a delicious fish lunch). After lunch we wandered up the headland towards the lighthouse, where we saw the ubiquitous and inevitable sheep perched precariously along every available cliff and hillside — and also a little herd of Shetland ponies, roaming free. Given Lerwick is dotted with posters advertising a £20-per-person 'Shetland pony experience,' we felt this was an unexpected bonus.
We rounded out our trip with a visit to the town's museum, which covers the entire history of Scalloway with a particular focus on an extraordinary moment of its existence: the WWII 'Shetland Bus' operation. This was amazing to read about, and at once so human, and so humblingly brave. (There's also an indirect personal connection, as the British officer who was in charge of this operation was the father of a family friend of Matthias's family.)
After the museum, we strolled through the town for a bit, noting this bizarre inscription on one of the houses, then picked up the bus back to Lerwick, and our last night on the islands. We'd made a point of booking dinner in the fanciest restaurant in town, and it did not disappoint. A fabulous cap on a tremendous, tremendous holiday.
I didn't write a journal entry on our final day, but it involved dropping our bags at the ferry terminal, a visit to the Shetland museum (conveniently down the road from our accommodation), lunch in a cafe overlooking the sea, and then the ferry trip home, which was travelling via Orkney to drop a massive contingent of Shetland athletes off for this year's Island Games. Amusingly, as we left Lerwick harbour, a small speedboat took to the water beside us, with its crew unfurling Shetland flags to see off their island's competitors in style. It was quite rough over to Orkney, but Orkney to Aberdeen was as smooth as glass, and I slept, waking up in blanketing fog and 15 degree temperatures. The fog continued down along much of the coast of Scotland on our train journey, so it was quite disorienting to emerge in London in 30-degree heat!
I would highly, highly recommend Shetland as a place to spend some time, especially if you live in the UK, and will happily expand on any of what I've written above in the comments, if you're interested. I've also got a lot of photos up over at![[instagram.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/profile_icons/instagram.png)
ronnidolorosa — it's a very photogenic place!
I did journal a little bit while I was there, so if you want more details of what the trip involved, click behind the cut to see the transcript.
4-5 July
To Shetland, then: two trains (including a comically tiny cabin on the Caledonian Sleeper to Aberdeen, with bunk beds), ten hours (fry-up, art gallery, fish lunch, beachfront walk, pub) in Aberdeen in the pouring rain, and then overnight in the sleeper ferry. This final stage of the trip was like a dream. We were in an outer cabin (which seemed palatial after the sleeper train) with a window open to the sunlit water, watching the sun set over the silvery, undulating waves, and the ocean unfolding like a road beside us. As we left the harbour in Aberdeen, a massive pod of dolphins frolicked in front of the ship, leaping out of the water in playful exuberance: an auspicious beginning. I slept in the arms of the sea, and woke as the ferry slid past the first of the cloud-wreathed islands of Shetland.
Day 1 involved getting the lay of the land before we could check into our accommodation — walking the length and breadth of Lerwick, pottering around the shops (so much knitware! so many puffin-themed homewares! local whisky and gin! an amazing bookshop!) and scoping out all the cafes and restaurants. I managed to snag a dinner reservation in a French/Basque restaurant that two separate acquaintances had recommended upon learning that we were going to Shetland, and so we feasted smugly upon scallops, and the best gazpacho I have ever eaten, while a gale howled outside, before returning to our little white cottage annex, and sleeping.
6 July
Day 2 was a slow start, as we finalised the week's plans over tea and coffee, with my planning email and the BBC Weather website open. Then we wandered through the Sunday ghost town, ate a big lunch, and walked 7km out around a headland dotted with sheep, WWII-era artillery emplacements, and lots of hardy thistles, descending to the idyllic white sand beach of Sound, and detouring through the Iron Age ring fort of the Broch of Clickimin. I felt windswept and alive.
7 July
Day 3 saw us head out to Eshaness to do the cliff walk. This involved one hour on a regular bus which wound its way through villages and windfarms, collecting locals (including one woman who needed to go five minutes down the road to the next village — the end of the line — to do her shopping, and then be taken home; the driver was going to wait ten minutes and then collect her, and he refused to take payment), and then changing to a connecting 'bus' that was actually just a guy with an eight-seater car. He would return, four hours later, to meet us and take us back: exactly enough time to do the 10km cliff hike at a slow pace, stopping for lunch.
The hike itself starts at an uninhabited lighthouse, along dramatic cliffs lashed by waves from the north, dotted with nesting birds. You sweep through peat bogs filled with sheep (each nervous ewe paired with its jumpy lamb) and wildflowers, and descend to a loch and a broch. We communed with the sea — in my preferred state of Caspar David Friedrich-esque stark, raging squall — and clambered all over the stone ruins at the loch, before being collected by the driver for our return. After a brief sojourn on Hillswick beach, we were collected by the bus, and headed back to Lerwick for a cosy evening lounging around the cottage eating Nepalese take-away.
8 July
Day 4 was another bus-plus-eight-seater-car-guy affair, as we headed off to St Ninian's Isle, which is conected to the main island by a striking tombolo. We did a 5km loop around the island — empty except for tourists, a massive colony of rabbits, nesting sea birds on every cliff, and the ubiquitous sheep. Other than a ruined chapel, there is no sign of human habitation, as all the stones from the houses of its departed population were taken to use for stone walls dividing its fields.
In contrast to the windswept Eshaness cliffs, St Ninian's — in the south of the island — was sun-drenched and still, the only movement the gambolling of the sheep and the distant crash of the waves below. If we'd had more time before our pickup, I would have availed myself of its mobile beach-side sauna and cold clear beaches, as it was, St Ninian's will join my long list of missed swimming opportunities.
The bus brought us home (seated in front of two teenage girls speaking in tones of incredulous horror at the thought of living in isolation on the remote island of Yell — from the 'urban metropolis' perspective of residents of the tiny main island village of Bigton), where we walked up the hill from our accommodation to Shetland distillery, and what turned into an impromptu tasting, facilitated by a friendly and gregarious shop assistant. We'd assumed we would need to book a scheduled tasting, so the ability to try their four whiskies spontaneously was an unexpected bonus. We left with one bottle, and some whisky-infused marmalade.
9 July
Day 5 dawned with an early start, meeting in the biting foggy morning at 8.30am to take a boat tour out to Noss, an uninhabited island swarming with nesting seabirds. The boat was a small catamaran, crewed by an indomitable husband-and-wife team who have been running these tours since the early 1990s. They took us out over choppy waters, skating between islands, into caves, and right up against towering cliffs teeming with nesting birds, which swooped above us in a riotous cacophony. It was an awesome experience, in the old sense of the word. I felt humbled in my smallness against the endless, restless sea. We pulled into a secluded bay in Noss for tea and coffee, watched over by the island's two custodians (two women this year) who live in its sole house, guiding walking groups and observing the state of the seabird colonies.
And then it was back to Lerwick — around Bressay — shivering, salt-washed, and ecstatic.
We warmed up in a cafe, wandered through homeware and knitware shops, and walked 2km or so out of town to Lerwick's beer brewery, which is perched on an isolated hill. The vibe in the crowded taproom was great — my favourite hospitality establishment on the islands so far in terms of this overall mood and sense of welcome. I don't drink beer, but I had a great time.
We returned through fog into grey horizons, my cheeks red and singing in the cold air, hearts full and open.
10 July
Day 6 — our final full day in Shetland — and it was off to Scalloway. This village was formerly Shetland's capital, but it's now much dwarfed by Lerwick, although it still contains a working harbour, fishing and other industry, and the Shetland campus of the University of the Highlands and Islands (where we ate a delicious fish lunch). After lunch we wandered up the headland towards the lighthouse, where we saw the ubiquitous and inevitable sheep perched precariously along every available cliff and hillside — and also a little herd of Shetland ponies, roaming free. Given Lerwick is dotted with posters advertising a £20-per-person 'Shetland pony experience,' we felt this was an unexpected bonus.
We rounded out our trip with a visit to the town's museum, which covers the entire history of Scalloway with a particular focus on an extraordinary moment of its existence: the WWII 'Shetland Bus' operation. This was amazing to read about, and at once so human, and so humblingly brave. (There's also an indirect personal connection, as the British officer who was in charge of this operation was the father of a family friend of Matthias's family.)
After the museum, we strolled through the town for a bit, noting this bizarre inscription on one of the houses, then picked up the bus back to Lerwick, and our last night on the islands. We'd made a point of booking dinner in the fanciest restaurant in town, and it did not disappoint. A fabulous cap on a tremendous, tremendous holiday.
I didn't write a journal entry on our final day, but it involved dropping our bags at the ferry terminal, a visit to the Shetland museum (conveniently down the road from our accommodation), lunch in a cafe overlooking the sea, and then the ferry trip home, which was travelling via Orkney to drop a massive contingent of Shetland athletes off for this year's Island Games. Amusingly, as we left Lerwick harbour, a small speedboat took to the water beside us, with its crew unfurling Shetland flags to see off their island's competitors in style. It was quite rough over to Orkney, but Orkney to Aberdeen was as smooth as glass, and I slept, waking up in blanketing fog and 15 degree temperatures. The fog continued down along much of the coast of Scotland on our train journey, so it was quite disorienting to emerge in London in 30-degree heat!
I would highly, highly recommend Shetland as a place to spend some time, especially if you live in the UK, and will happily expand on any of what I've written above in the comments, if you're interested. I've also got a lot of photos up over at
ronnidolorosa — it's a very photogenic place!
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Date: 2025-07-13 12:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-07-13 01:13 pm (UTC)As well as puffins, we saw shags, gannets, fulmars, kittiwakes and guillemots. We also saw a single, solitary seal!
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Date: 2025-07-13 02:54 pm (UTC)It was a beautiful trip, from start to finish. We were very lucky.
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Date: 2025-08-15 07:35 pm (UTC)What I know of Shetland comes from the DI Perez books and TV series, but it's been on my to-visit list (and quite close to the top!) for ages..so this travelogue was inspiring and jealous-making in equal measure. ;)
Thanks for sharing, I enjoyed it tremendously (as I did the pics on IG)
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Date: 2025-08-16 02:16 pm (UTC)It was on our list for ages as well — Matthias had been nearly 20 years ago (his parents had a caravan and almost all his childhood holidays featured caravan camping trips around the UK and Scandinavia — he's even been to the Faroe Islands) but obviously his memories were very out of date. After last year's epic Finland-Estonia-Latvia-Lithuania trip, where we stayed in about ten different places in two weeks, we wanted a holiday where we had a single home base and went out from it in the day, and returned in the evening, and Shetland fit the bill. I'm so glad we went, and I'm glad you liked the write-up and photos.