Ann Cleeves' Shetland
Page 8
Sheep Craig off Fair Isle.
Sheep on Fair Isle.
Fair Isle was named Fridarey, meaning ‘island of peace’, by its Norse settlers. Its outline, visible from the Shetland Mainland on clear days, is distinctive and caused by the silhouette of Sheep Craig to the east of the island. Sheep were still grazed on the rock while I was working in the observatory – traditionally the grazing belonged to the shop, which had no croft land attached to it. When Barry Sinclair, who ran the shop then, decided he no longer needed to keep sheep there, my husband went over in a small boat with him and other men to bring back the redundant fencing. There is a chain attached to the cliff to help with the steep climb to the top. It was a precarious walk, but Tim felt that he was taking part in a piece of island history.
Geese flying through mist towards Fair Isle.
Since the middle of the nineteenth century Fair Isle’s history and prosperity have been influenced by the rare birds that visit it. Although the autumn winds are usually westerly, occasionally they move to the east, blowing towards Shetland off a high-pressure system over Scandinavia. If an east or south-east wind meets a bank of cloud or fog over the islands, the conditions are just what the birdwatchers who flock north in the autumn are hoping for. Birds that have started their migration in Asia can get blown off-course. And if they land in Fair Isle, exhausted after the long flight, the fog and cloud can prevent them from leaving. Fair Isle has recorded more rarities in its three-and-a-half-mile by mile-and-a-half land mass than any other place of its size in the UK. Now a new lodge, on the site of the previous building at the North Haven and very close to the original Nissen huts that formed the first observatory, provides excellent accommodation for the scientists who ring and census the birds, and for visitors. It also provides a social space for islanders and guests.
Fair Isle was recognized as a special place to study migratory birds by early pioneers in ornithology. Yorkshireman Dr William Eagle Clarke encouraged some of the islanders – particularly George Wilson Stout of Busta – to learn more about the rarer birds that occasionally arrived into the Isle; and presumably to shoot anything that he thought was interesting. In the days before adequate binoculars or telescopes, the saying went: ‘What’s hit is history. What’s missed is mystery.’ Between 1865 and 1937 Mary du Caurroy Tribe, Duchess of Bedford, was a regular visitor to the island for the purpose of birdwatching. She stayed at the Pund for an annual rent of £2. The Pund has fallen into disrepair now, though when I worked in the observatory in the Seventies it was used as a camping böd, and it becomes one of the locations for the novel Blue Lightning. Even when the house was first built, however, despite its wood panelling and loft bed, it must have been rather primitive and uncomfortable, in contrast to the luxury to which the duchess was accustomed.
The southern crofts on Fair Isle.
George Waterston.
Fair Isle was put firmly on the ornithological map by one man: George Waterston (1911–1980). By the outbreak of the Second World War, George was already a regular visitor to the Isle – he first arrived in 1935 after being rowed ashore from the Aberdeen steamer as it passed by. He developed a close relationship with George (Fieldie) Stout, one of the island crofters, often staying with him in his croft at Field. With the outbreak of war, Waterston became a captain in the Royal Artillery, but was captured in Crete in 1941. During his time as a prisoner-of-war he dreamed of founding a bird observatory on the Isle, and it seemed a portent that on being invalided home via neutral Sweden, his first sight of the UK was the distinctive shape of Fair Isle’s Sheep Rock. He wrote to a friend: ‘Can you imagine my excitement when the first land sighted was none other than Fair Isle!’
Soon after the war he purchased the island from Robert Bruce of Sumburgh, and in August 1948 the Fair Isle Bird Observatory was opened in a group of naval huts near the North Haven. George became aware that, as laird of the island, he had a responsibility for the people who lived there, as well as for the birds that passed through. He felt that Fair Isle would have a more sustainable future with a different owner, and in 1954 the National Trust for Scotland took over as landlord. The Trust still owns the island and has provided consistency and security for its residents. However, George’s role hasn’t been forgotten, and the small museum in the middle of the island has been named after him. In recent years the island has developed as a centre where traditional culture and crafts can flourish. Within the small population there are still fantastic knitters, a maker of hand-built spinning wheels and Shetland chairs, and a boatbuilder. Lise Sinclair, a Fair Isle poet and musician, brought the haunting beauty of the Isle to a larger audience through her work. She was much too young when she died in 2013 and will be very much missed.
Stuart Thomson, retired lighthouse keeper, fiddler and spinning wheel maker.
Fair Isle attracts visitors from all over the world, and not all of them are birdwatchers – many come just to explore the beauty of the island. Although it’s so small, its indented coastline and steep cliffs mean that there is plenty of exciting walking to do. Craftspeople want to meet the residents who keep the traditions alive, and many visitors develop friendships that last for numerous years. Some visitors come because they recognize the name from the Met Office’s ‘Shipping Forecast’, the almost poetic litany of weather in the UK’s shipping areas, broadcast by BBC radio. Meteorological records are still taken by the same man who was providing the service when I stayed on the island forty years ago: Dave Wheeler, who lives at Field. At one time he ran a successful croft, worked shifts as a lightkeeper and was the Met officer – an example of the multiple occupations that islanders often need to undertake to survive.
Stuart’s wife Annie at work on a Fair Isle sweater. Stuart and Annie were Lise Sinclair’s grandparents.
The next generation of Fair Islanders.
2 Ply by Lise Sinclair (1971–2013)
athin a room
inside a room
whaur fiddles
where fiddles
an wheels pluy
and wheels play
athin dy hands
in your hands
my graandfaider,
my grandfather,
nu a moorit
now a brown
fleece, still
fleece, still
sheepy, trau
sheepy, through
dy haands
your hands
den, apo da pirm
then, on the bobbin
moorit yaarn
brown yarn
biggs up
builds up
aleng da line
along the line
o heuks.
of hooks.
an as I pluy
and as I play
da auld tunes
the old tunes
du’s learnin me
you’re teaching me
du sets
you set
my doithter
my daughter
til a wheel
to a [spinning] wheel
suyan
saying
dis is da een fur dee
This is the one for you
see, wirk dee fit
see, work your foot
pull back
pull back
pull back
pull back
Dunna lat da snud
Don’t let the twist
geen athin da oo
get into the wool.
Dat’s da wye.
That’s the way.
Alice sits,
Alice sits,
ee fit wirkin da treed
one foot working the thread
da tidder, dancin
the other, dancing
tae da baet o da fiddle
to the beat of the fiddle
pull back
pull back
pull back
pull back
Dunna lat da snud
Don’t let the twist
ge
en athin da oo
get into the wool.
Dat’s da wye.
That’s the way.
an nu tree hank
and now, three skeins of yarn
twaa ply
two ply
ee straand o her yaarn
one strand of her yarn
wi ee straand o dine.
with one strand of yours.
Foula.
Foula is another remote, inhabited island to the west of Shetland, and it too attracts rare migrant birds and the birdwatchers who seek them. Though it is similar in land size to Fair Isle, a visit to Foula is a very different experience. Perhaps because the island is still in private ownership, the community is less cohesive. There is the potential for tourism in Foula – the cliffs are second in height only to St Kilda’s in the Hebrides, and the island is beautiful – but there is little accommodation for visitors. The self-catering cottage is some distance from the jetty and, because there is no shop in Foula, all food and drink have to be taken in. There is a regular plane service, but it isn’t as frequent as the one to Fair Isle, and the boat times can be a little erratic. Foula is well worth the effort it takes to stay there, and the islanders welcome visitors, but the trip should be considered an adventure.
Rough seas off Fair Isle.
Birdwatchers aren’t the only enthusiasts who migrate to the islands in the autumn, though. In late September or early October Shetland hosts its famous Wool Week. Knitters, spinners and dyers from all over the world make the pilgrimage to the home of Shetland wool and Fair Isle patterns. Until I met an American visitor who was playing a major part in the event, I hadn’t realized that there was such a thing as a field guide to sheep. Each year there are workshops, masterclasses and exhibitions, and events take place in venues from the southern tip to the most northerly island of Unst, which is best known for its knitted lace.
Autumn is also the time when Shetland celebrates film and literature, with its Screenplay and Wordplay Festivals. Reviewer and broadcaster Mark Kermode and his wife, Linda Ruth Williams, regularly programme the film festival, and Wordplay attracts authors and poets with an international reputation. There are many reading groups in the island and the festival pulls in a terrific audience. Crime fiction – especially Nordic crime fiction – is particularly popular, and in 2015 Shetland Noir hosted writers and readers from Iceland and Scandinavia, as well as from Scotland and England. The Shetland library service is extremely well used and, under the leadership of Shetlander Karen Fraser, hosts imaginative events throughout the islands.
One of these was the 24/24 Challenge, which took place in September 2014 and gave me another and very exciting perspective on the islands. The project took me, BBC radio producer Joe Haddow and other writers to some of the more remote communities in Orkney and Shetland – and we had just twenty-four hours to complete the challenge of organizing reading events in twenty-four of the Orkney and Shetland Isles. The idea came from Stewart Bain, who works for Orkney Libraries in Kirkwall, when we were in a small plane flying back to Kirkwall airport from North Ronaldsay – the Orkney island closest to the Shetland archipelago. He and I had been there to celebrate the service provided to the small islands by the library, and the response from islanders to an author visit was astonishing. We decided to extend the project and acquire some well-needed publicity for the great work done by the library service in remote and rural areas. While Orkney and Shetland are very different island groups – Orkney is gentler, more fertile and much nearer to the Scottish mainland – they have much in common, and the challenge provided an opportunity for the two communities to work closely together.
I couldn’t undertake the project all by myself of course, but the idea seemed to catch the imagination of readers and writers in both archipelagos. St Magnus Cathedral in Kirkwall opened late in the evening for readings of ghostly tales, and my Danish publisher (who happens to be a Shetlander) translated one of my short stories into the Shetland dialect, while fellow published authors – both from the islands and from outside – turned out to help. Reading groups and library staff had their own ideas for imaginative events, and we hoped to make both island groups come alive with stories, poetry and rhyme.
St Magnus Cathedral in Kirkwall, Orkney.
I started in Orkney, with a visit to the school in Papa Westray, which involved taking the shortest scheduled flight in the UK, from Westray. The school children helped me count down to the beginning of the challenge and, after several events in Orkney, I took the midnight boat to Shetland and arrived in Lerwick at 7.30 a.m., in time to chat to commuters on the Bressay ferry into the town. Then I jumped into the mobile library and was driven to the islands in the west that can be reached by bridge. We stopped at Burland, in the island of Trondra, where we saw how lovingly some of the traditional crofting methods and species have been preserved. We were treated to fiddle music and home-bakes too – a great example of Shetland hospitality.
Muckle Roe Bridge.
The twin-bridged islands of East and West Burra lie to the south of Trondra, and both of these counted towards our target of twenty-four islands. I chatted to the children in Hamnavoe School. Hamnavoe is a pretty village, which has thrived since the bridges were built and has attracted people who can now commute to Lerwick. There was great interest in our visit within the school, because some of the pupils had taken part as extras in one of the episodes of Shetland when filming took place on their island. I did a meet-and-greet in East Burra, chatting to the people who turned up at the mobile-library stop to share their passion for crime fiction. Burra has some of the most beautiful beaches in Shetland – Meal Sands is one of my favourites – but there was no time to explore the coastline that day. The clock was ticking and we had to move on.
Hamnavoe.
Muckle Roe from Mainland.
I arrived at the community hall in Muckle Roe just as the Gruffalo was entertaining the pre-school children. The Gruffalo had been a great hit in Orkney, but the costume provided by Julia Donaldson’s publisher was so bulky that it was impossible to transport it in time to Shetland. Luckily the children’s character had featured in one of the Up Helly Aa sketches, and the squad that had performed with him was happy to lend its costume to us for the occasion. Muckle Roe is reached by a very small bridge from the west of Shetland Mainland beyond Brae. If the tide is right it’s possible for a boat to pass underneath the bridge. In Muckle Roe there was just time to greet the children and their parents (and time for tea and more cake) before we had to set off again. Here I left the mobile library and was collected by some colleagues from Pan Macmillan to begin the drive north towards our final destination: the island of Unst.
But before we arrived in Unst we had to pass over the island of Yell. For many visitors, Yell is just that – a means to get to Shetland’s most northerly communities in Unst – but it is certainly worth a visit in its own right. Writer Louise Welsh was based here for the twenty-four-island challenge, before joining me for our event in Unst. The ferry leaves the pier at Toft in the north of Mainland, crosses Yell Sound and arrives into Ulsta. Driving north to catch the onward ferry from Gutcher, it’s tempting to believe that the island is one big peat bank; and indeed peat is still regularly cut here in the spring, sometimes by machine, but often by the traditional method, using a tushkar – a tool that has been used for centuries to cut the wet fuel and to lift the blocks into stacks to dry. However, it’s worth deviating from the fast road north to explore more of the island. Burravoe faces south and was one of Yell’s most important settlements during the time of Hanseatic trade. It has a local museum and interpretive centre in the Old Haa, a house dating back to 1672. Mid Yell is the island’s largest community, and has a secondary as well as a primary school. In Thin Air some scenes take place in an art gallery in Yell, and the island does have its own gallery in Sellafirth. Whenever I visit I’m tempted to buy, because the Shetland Gallery exhibits some of the best of the islands’ contemporary art and high-end craft.
&nbs
p; West Sandwick Beach on Yell.
The Old Haa, Burravoe, Yell.
Our twenty-four-hour challenge ended in Unst, in the school in Baltasound, which hosts the UK’s most northerly library. Baltasound is the largest settlement in Unst, with a harbour protected by Balta Isle, which lies a few miles offshore to the east. At the beginning of the twentieth century it had a thriving herring fishery; now salmon-farming has taken over, and little remains of the fishing stations and piers of earlier times. Haligarth, to the north-east of Baltasound, has the UK’s most northerly woodland. The garden is famous as a good place to look out for migrant birds, and my husband has spent many hours staring into it with his birdwatcher friends. That day in September, however, we had no time for sightseeing. We arrived in Baltasound with only minutes to spare before the twenty-four hours ran out. The library assistant was running a session for pre-school children and, just as children in Orkney had marked the start of our challenge, so the bairns in Unst counted us down to celebrate the end of it.