by It takes 38 hours -two trains, a tube, the Kaledonian sleep, a day in Aberdeen, a rental car and the Northlink ferry -to reach Shetland from our house in Oxfordshire, and yet the immortal words “Are we already there?” are not even pronounced. When the ferry connects in Lerwick, the children Lydia (11) and Alex (eight) are unusual when we enjoy the view: the city turned on a low hill, the water shimmers in the morning sun and the islands can see as far as the eye.
We spend a week in the archipelago, first travel on the mainland, the main island and then north to the less populated islands of Yell and Unst, which are connected by regular ferries. It turns out that it is the perfect place for a family vacation: short driving times (it takes 80 minutes to drive north from the southern tip of the mainland), combined with the sea, which is almost always in view, and the excitement of a boat or a ferry every day.
On the mainland we rely on Hayhoull B & B. Mary, the owner, gives us the feeling that we are part of her family and cooks us delicious dinner, in which even my electoral son does not turn his nose up. We wake up spectacular views of the Isle of St. Ninian before going to Lerwick Harbor to take a boat trip with Shetland Seabird Tours. Skipper Phil tells us that we will sail after Noss Island to see the Gannet colony. Alex turns to me with big eyes. “They dive like rockets!” He whispers excitedly.
First, however, we see Eiderers who paddle directly in front of the harbor, and Fulmars in cozy couples on the cliffs. The latter, says Phil, tells us, “they have an evil defense mechanism against birds of prey – they vomit on them and ruin their flight springs”. The children are thrilled and repelled at the same time. Then there is in a cave, black guillemots and a lonely parrot diver who fluctuates on the waves that send an excitement around the boat.
Gannets form torpedoes before they fall into the depths of spherical. It is a phenomenal sight
But they are these Gannets that steal the show. They appear when we approach the uninhabited, quickly clipped island of Noss, which is unmistakable with their pointed white beaks and yellow head feathers. While the birds (approx. 600–700 in accordance with Phil’s estimate) circle and call above us, Phil undertakes a long metal tube in the water; He throws a mackerel down and within seconds the first gannets fold their wings back and into the birdorpedos before pluning into the deep blue water. It is a phenomenal sight. The only word I hear from both children for the next 15 minutes is “Wow!”
If there is a word that characterizes our visit to Shetland, it is “wow” it. In the prehistoric and Nordic settlement of Jarlshof, where thousands of years of human dwellings are unveiled in the remains of countless buildings, the children happily wander with their audio guides and were happy. What I expected to be a 10-minute visit takes us an hour and a half.
Exactly down the street is Sumburgh Head Lighthouse, in which the first parrot divers of the season recently arrived. We listen to a recovery of the sound of the lighthouse fog horn that is so loud that the children cover their ears and climb up the fog tower to see how the country falls into the apparently endless sea.
Another boat trip takes us to the small, uninhabited island of Mousa, an RSPB nature reserve. A huge broch (a circular tower unique in Scotland) stands on its southwestern bank; Although it is closed during our visit, we look through the gate to look at the layered stone inside and to imagine the people and animals that once lived there. We have three hours on Mousa and spend you spend the two miles long way to hike around him at a leisurely pace. You lose the time to watch seals in the east pool and discover Fulmars. “Stay away from them,” says Alex. “You don’t want to be sick.”
Back to land we go the short distance from our B&B to St. Ninian’s Isle, which has been reached via the largest active raffle Great Britain (a sand stick). The children immediately whip their shoes out to dip their feet in the soft white sand. As they play, my husband and I go to the island. From above we have a clear view of the children and the Skerries (small rocky islands and reefs) that Pfeffer the south side of the Isle.
The right along the street is West Lynne Croft (Small Farm), where the multitalized Cecil Tait shows us around and shows the skills of his sheep Bess, which is convinced that we also need Hü Eversations. Tait, which also produces furniture and wool and runs woodworking courses, tells us that he translates into English all the time, as he translates into English in his head from his home -shetland dialect. I watch the children digest. “Wow, mom,” says Alex afterwards, “I didn’t know that English wasn’t the main language of all not the main language here.”
If the cry to go down! Come, we fall on our fronts and crawl. There is the smooth, dark curve of an otter in the water
The next day we go to the northernmost island of the archipelago. On arrival, driving through the mainland and the neighboring island of Yell as well as two short ferry tours (to scream and scream) with the excitement includes how we go. Most people come here for the birds and the dramatic coastal landscape of the HERMANESS National Nature Reserve on the northern tip of the island, but we decide against a three and a half hour walk that fought against the wind (and the children). Instead, we decide to drive the interactive “Sky Stops” with Catriona Waddington, the chairman of the WildHimmel Shetland, on the south coast to facilitate the exploration of the island.
We walk a mile along the blue tinted sand of the eastern beach and then over the rocky coast to one of the stops, Framgord. A hearing contribution invites us to hear a Nordic history or a violin melody, from which Catriona says: “Always makes people waltz”. The children will soon do that. That night they sleep – much for their excitement – in traditional niche beds in the elegant Belmont House.
On the way back to the mainland we pause the afternoon in Yell and spend more than two hours with Brydon Thomason from Shetland Nature with Brydon Thomason from Shetland Nature wandering his gentle northeast coast. Armed with binoculars, the children are happy for miles and stop every time Brydon does to scan the shore and water with him.
There are no complaints about the cold or distance; There is too much to learn Otter, e.g. B. how we have to run against the wind so that they do not smell us and how they can identify their toilets. Brydon has been and mocked since his age of Otter. “I was thrilled with the thrill of how difficult they were to find,” he tells us. “It’s like a detective in nature.”
The children are also clearly happy to be detectives. But when the cry went down “!” Comes, they are more than ready and fall on the fronts when we follow Brydon’s instructions to crawl on the beach. There is the smooth, dark curve of an otter in the water.
Brydon sets up his camera so that the children can take photos when the Otter comes to the coast. However, if she does it, she is not alone; She is with her two boys and is busy destroying a squid that she caught. We observe through binoculars and Brydon’s camera in a silence that is only broken by emphatic WoWs. “That’s why I’m doing it,” says Brydon with a smile. “For reactions like this.”
In Shetland it seems to me to have the only reactions.
The trip was provided by Visitscotland.com And shetland.org. The transport to Scotland was made available by Caledonian sleeperand transport to Shetland from northLink ferries. The best time to see most seabirds is from May to the end of August, although Puffiner tend to head Back to the sea in August
