Shetland: A Journey to Scotland’s Stormlands

When Shetland was first settled, it was a relatively temperate place, furnished with trees and good harvests. Though it lies 200 km from the top of Scotland, the first peoples there lived relatively similar lives to those in many other Northern European climates. But over time things began to change, the climate shifted, and became especially punishing. The winds there became incredibly violent and bitterly cold, destroying much of the vegetation and forcing people to the coast, where they could still harvest and live off fish. The growth of trees became limited, so people had to make their houses out of turf and stone. You can also see this in later years when It saw Viking invasion, the Vikings whose boats were made out of strong overlapped Oak as too was their longhouses had to adapt to this strange and challenging environment. There is a remnant of a Viking longhouse in Unst, the Northernmost inhabited island, which I visited. Made out of stone instead of its usual wood.

This period has left a deep mark on the isles, with an identity crossed between Scottish and their Norse heritage. You can see it in the names: Unst, Lerwick, Haraldswick, Uist. Names from Norse origin. I journeyed to Shetland from mainland Scotland, my home. The boat ride from Aberdeen is 12 hours, it crosses the North Sea and is a notoriously rocky voyage. I got little sleep, and a woman next to me vomited the entire night. Setting foot in the port of Lerwick I was hit with that fresh wind surging off the Atlantic, I left from the large Northlink ferry terminal and made my way into town. The main road through Lerwick is actually relatively busy for a remote group of islands with only 20,000 people, Toyota Hiluxes fly to and fro – the main means of transport it would seem. I settled in my hostel, relaxed for the evening and readied myself to venture even further North – to the very top of the Shetland.

– Viking longhouse, made of stone and turf, Unst

Northward Bound

I set out early and took a small bus across Uist, the main and largest island, it took me through the winding main road North towards the inter-island ferry port. It looked almost like the surface of mars. If it weren’t for the small signs of human life here and there, you might feel like you were in a different world.

I reached the terminal at the top of Uist, which would take me to the Island of Yell just a short distance North, from there I would try to cross to my final destination of Unst. The boat journey was short, the inter-island ferries are reasonably frequent between Yell and Uist. I’m not sure I actually paid for it since no one asked me.

From Yell I discovered there were actually no buses, a slight problem since it was past 12 and the distance to the next port at the top of the island was about 17 miles. Doable but I wouldn’t make the next ferry, I also had an experience the day before this journey where I was caught in the worst storm in my life and had to get picked up by a farmer, so I wasn’t terribly keen on marching into nightfall. Luckily as I began to walk along the main road the cars from the ferry began to disembark, one of the first cars which was a small black hatchback slowed down immediately. I heard a voice in a thick Shetland accent asking me if I was ‘going up the island.’ I said ‘aye’ and he invited me into his car, I jumped in, having to duck due to fishing rods hanging about my head level.

The man who said his name was Leslie was a very friendly character, as they all are up there, he told me of his days in Glasgow – my city – working as a fisherman. But he griped that was a young man’s game, his back couldn’t hack it anymore, he was retired now and fished for leisure. We had a good chat and he dropped me to the middle of the island. I had accidentally picked up his shirt getting out of his car, but luckily after a few more hitches to the top of the Island I met a Canadian lady who was ex-army, she had moved to Shetland to retire and was very friendly, she dropped me at the ferry port and told me she would get the shirt back to the man. Which I found out through Facebook she did, thankfully. Sorry about that Leslie. It was now time to sail to Unst, a place which looked very striking from my research.

-Unst

From Unst I marched, against a cruel wind, along the main road, taking me through the sloping moors with glimpses of the coast. It is a very stark landscape, you could easily be caught out in it as I was earlier. The conditions flip like a coin and there’s nowhere to hide.

-Beginning of the road across Unst

I had seen pictures of a spectacular place at the top of Unst called the horns of Hagmark, with stunning cliffs, huge colonies of birds, and gigantic Atlantic swell breaking against the cliffs, I was keen to see it. I only had about another day in Shetland, so this journey was actually pretty foolhardy. I was surprised I managed to make it to Unst, especially considering a lot of my rides were hitched. It was around 3 or 4pm. I would need to repeat this all the way down to Lerwick tomorrow and reach Lerwick before 7pm to make my ferry. Evidently if there were no buses on Yell, there wasn’t going to be very many on Unst. I walked for some time but it was getting dark and the chances of me seeing these cliffs were growing slim, I attempted to hitchhike but was waved off by the numerous likely English caravan drivers up for their holidays, and the farmers wanted nothing to do with me. It wasn’t looking too healthy, I stopped for a break in the moors eating a snack for a little time and pondering what I would do.

The sun was breaking through a little, raising the mood slightly, and I saw a large black ford transit coming my way. I reckoned if anyone would stop it would be this guy, and just like that he slowed down for me on the road, turned out it was actually the bus which came twice a day. I lucked out and jumped in, nestling between some old tires and other miscellaneous items. It seemed that the Bus driver was also the mailman, and perhaps something else. He stopped along the way and made some delivery. There was one or two others on the bus, they weren’t terribly keen on conversation with me so I sat and watched the hills disappear behind me. Everyone got off before me, and the bus driver asked me, ‘where do you actually want to go?’ I told him that I was heading to the cliffs, which he cautioned against, ‘they’re very dangerous and it’ll be dark soon.’ I told him I’m pretty quick, I’ll be grand, a typical cocky 21 year old response. He took me very close to them, actually cutting into some farmer’s grounds, he said that I could shelter at a Viking longhouse nearby, a bus would come again around 7 am. And wished me good luck, he also didn’t charge me. Top guy.

I was on the other side of the cliffs, so would have to march all the way to the top to see what I wanted, I marched over boggy ground ascending up to the cliffs, with the dying light of the sun urging me to hasten my pace.

-Making my way along the coast, jumping over fences, and up the cliffs.

It turned out to be a bit of a graft, and I really had to charge up the hill to make it, the winds were low on this side but eventually I neared the top. Hearing faint whistling as I neared the Edge. I stood atop it, and was suddenly blasted with a powerful wind, before me lay one of the greatest sights of my adventures.

-The waves would crash right over the rocks, sinking them only for them to emerge again with the recession of the sea

Thousands of birds inhabited the cliff sides in great colonies, many rode the wind, staying almost stationary in the air. I’d attach videos here if I were able to.

It’s a stunning place, one I would highly recommend, I later camped at that Viking longhouse and was woken up at three AM by drunk men making animal noises in the longhouse. I also made it to the ferry the next day and had a short romance with a girl in Lerwick. But that’s another story!

-Jack, Lerwick, April 2024, Yes I need a haircut