Muckle Roe Island

Thursday 6th July

Aside from the sports complex and high school, which were built and opened in 2017, the rest of the town of Lerwick is rather grey. Many have given up on applying paint to the outside of buildings, as with the weather blowing so fiercely, it would would need to be done so often. Hence many are left in the colour of construction. Signs for businesses are understated, perhaps because anything fancy might just blow away. But for a population of just 7,000, they really like their takeaway food, with 3 Indian restaurants, 2 Chinese, 2 fish and chips, and 2 kebab / pizza outlets. The smell from the chip fryers dominate all else, it makes me nauseous when I’m downwind of it.

After a lap of the Loch next to which I had parked, it was time for the various chores; supermarket, and filling up with fuel and water. There’s a Tesco and a Co-Op, with prices much cheaper than the smaller community run grocery shops dotted around the islands.

I then headed back north, continuing on my west coast crawl which I had left after the Walls peninsula yesterday. My destination was Muckle Roe island, connected to the mainland by a bridge, but still remote, with a population of just less than 100 permanent residents, mainly croft farmers. There’s only road meanders around the south of the island for about 5 miles, coming to an end at Gillarona farm, just a 5 minute walk from Little Ayre beach. It’s a spectacular beach, and we spent the late afternoon down there, with the Test match on the radio.. Roja took his usual swim, and about 3 metres away from him the head of a grey seal emerged. They got no closer, Roja didn’t see it, and I guess would have been far less inquisitive than the seal.

He doesn’t seem to notice the variety of sea-birds that dive-bomb him either. The fulmars are almost constant, the Arctic terns here also, but they don’t get that close. Down on the beach this afternoon it was the sandwich terns that got very angry, and very close.. (below)

Back at the van I watched the T20 quarter final from Birmingham and got chatting to a guy returning from a hike ahead of his wife, who wanted to know the Scotland result; they had been playing Netherlands in a vital playoff for the World Cup in India. I was surprised. I’ve never actually met anyone in Scotland interested in their cricket, but still had to give him the disappointing news of their defeat.

The day had been overcast, but no rain, and as often, in the evening the cloud disappeared for a clear night. There was a kayak event on at the beach I had visited and seen no one at all day. On a calm day, sea-kayaking seems extremely appealing. I remember enjoying a book about a guy who kayaked from the north of Shetland down to the Channel a few years ago, The Frayed Atlantic Edge; the author David Gange.