Shetland Sojourn 2018: Part 6

Our final full day on Shetland and, with the weather looking good, we headed off for a walk on a part of the Mainland that we hadn't visited before. An excellent finale to our stay and, for me at least, whetted my appetite for a return visit. There's something very special about the islands.

We decided to walk on Kettla Ness, a peninsular on the west of Mainland. It's on another island, West Burra, which is joined to Mainland via a causeway/bridge, to another island, Trondra. East Burra, the third of the Scalloway Islands, is joined to West Burra also by a causeway/bridge. Our walk, just over 5 miles, was simply around the peninsular.

Kettla Ness is joined to West Burra by a shingle tombolo to the south of the end of the road at Duncansclett, where we parked. The tombolo has been strengthened in places by metal gabions, presumably to stop the sea from breaching it in storm conditions.  The headland, or more properly the island of Kettla Ness, is currently uninhabited but is grazed by sheep.The beach on the north side of the tombolo (Banna Minn) is mainly silver sand but the beach on the southern side (West Voe) is comprised of pebbles.

Walking across the tombolo we came across this memorial stone. Intriguing and worth a closer look at the plaque.

It's a memorial to a Norwegian, Axel Eliezer Nielsen, a ship's carpenter.  He drowned in 1903 when the ship he was on (the barque Louise of Drammen) capsized off South Havra, a small island to the south east of Kettla Ness. It was erected by some of his descendants on 7th October 1996, specifically Harald Lansen, his great grandson, and Harald's children, Marthe and Alexander. Let's remember Axel.

A novel use for an old dinghy. Now, this is what I call a shed. Envy isn't a noble emotion but I'll confess to feeling it when I saw this. A practical solution to a roofing need as Timber is in short supply on these treeless islands,

Seascape with Rock Pipit. Or rather 'seascape without Rock Pipit'. The bird seems to have flown away at the crucial moment.

Seascape with Shag. Or rather 'seascape without Shag'. The bird seems to have flown away at the crucial moment.

At least this one didn't fly too far. Not a bad photograph this one - you can see the crest clearly and the yellow patch at the base of the beak. 

There's a long story behind the identification of this low lying flower as a very dwarf Danish Scurvygrass ((Cochlearia Danica). I couldn't place it and my reference books weren't much help. The next step was to ask my botanical neighbour, Mary, who wasn't certain and passed it to Cornwall's County Botanical Recorder, who passed it up the line to the national expert on cresses who was able to confirmed its identity. After all this, it is not a rare plant but, in this particular niche, was unusually small. And the name comes from the fact that, as a Scurvygrass, it contains high levels of Vitamin C and was used to prevent scurvy on board ships.

A seascape looking southwards. The guide for this walk was quite simple: keep the sea to your right and don't fall off the cliffs.

The band of intrepid explorers taking a break in the rain. Funnily enough, I don't remember it being as wet as it looks. Here's a frightening statistic for us to ponder on: when we five first met our combined ages were around 150 years, now we've pushed it up to 350. Where has the time gone? At what are we all looking at with so much admiration?

Why, it was another Vanessa trig point. This one has the number 10510 and is located at the top of the Ward of Kettla Ness. As with many trig points, the view was very impressive and well worth the uphill stretch to get to it. Although the visibility did not allow it, on a clear day you could get a line-of-sight view to the trig point at Sumburgh Head, which is exactly why it is where it is.

I've already mentioned planticrubs when we visited Whalsay. Here's one we came across towards the end of this walk. It had a net over the top and it looked as if it had been recently cultivated.

Not a pebble beach but an example of the construction of the walls in some of the deserted buildings on the Ness. A good example of making the best use of local materials. Go down to the beach, shovel up a load of shingle, add a little cement/mortar, pour the mixture into some shuttering and, voila, a wall.

North cottage, which is part of a late 19th and early 20th century crofting settlement, is currently used as a museum (sadly closed when we were there). It has a ‘taekkit (thatched) roof in the vernacular style.

The roof is thatched in straw, a traditional thatching material on the Shetland Islands (originally black oat straw). It is entirely netted using fishing net, which has been weighted with string and stones to keep it in place during the commonplace gales in these parts.

An almost-in-focus Dunlin standing on the edge of a lochan on Kettla Ness. My accompanying birder informed me that the dark underparts suggested that this was a sub-Arctic variant. Whatever the variant, I was quite happy just to have seen one so relatively close-up.

Just down the road from where we were staying was the abandoned crofting settlement of Fladdabister. It was occupied for several centuries and the crofters eked a living by farming and fishing. It was settled up until the 1930s. It was a somewhat eerie place to walk around in a sunny evening. This ruin intrigued me as the second floor rafter holes gave, by my estimate, a room height of about 5' 6". I presume the original inhabitants were fairly short - either that or they enjoyed banging their heads.

Just a stack of stones that caught my eye. I balanced a few on top in homage to whoever started it. Did it survive the next high tide, I wonder.

And that's it from Shetland. It was great seeing you. Maybe next time?