The day began in all its glory- blue sky, soft breeze, cool and crisp. Sue could not let it pass without going outside. I sat trying to do my blog on a machine that everyone else in the world finds, oh so intuitive, I, obviously was born without intuition. WordPress and Apple were refusing to see eye-to-eye. Oh, and then to throw a Sony camera into the mix- Mac was apoplectic. Sue returned and rescued me. We were going on a cruise.

The Mousa ferry leaves from Sandsayre Pier, Sandwick at 11:30, drops off its human cargo on the island, and returns at 14:30. Rodney is the captain of the SOLAN IV which can accommodate up to 66 persons, not comfortably one notes. There are wooden bench seats and a very lackadaisical attitude to payments and personal safety. Basically, it’s an open boat. They take you to the island. They leave you there for three hours and then pick you up. It takes an hour to walk around it and there are some amazing ancient structures there to explore. We forgot to do our research. There are no facilities – no café, no toilets, no water – nup…nothing, just ruins. So we walked…

The ruins are impressive. Mousa is a small island, uninhabited since the nineteenth century. It’s known for the Broch of Mousa, an Iron Age round tower, and is designated as a Special Protection Area for storm-petrel breeding colonies. Rodney did give us a heads-up about the muddy conditions. ‘Place is pretty slippery’, he said. ‘Just stick to the long grass and you’ll be right.’ 

Mousa is desolate. There are no trees just grass and rocks and ruins. I struggled to find the long grass until I realised that he meant the tufts of grass that were almost thirty centimetres tall that were not trodden on. Ahh.. long grass. You really did have to watch your footing. Looks completely dry but it is completely deceiving. It is a bog. 

The bouch was amazing. We got to crawl all around and even negotiate the narrow stone stairs and darkness to climb to the top. It was fabulous. We learnt about the area from local, Ryan, who had brought his partner, his daughter, and a cool drone to explore the island. It was a remarkable day. He commented that they might get three of them a year, so we were very appreciative. 

Lerwick is on the same latitude as Bergan and so the days are long. After a cuppa and my nanna nap we drove to Walls. Walls…the western end of the world- the wild west. We met a knitter and her partner in an old house and she pointed out the bonfire they were to have that night and the old smithy. This was where we met David- he was curious, a little apprehensive and definitely delightful and while he might have been a little discombobulated with these two old women on his turf, he filled Sue in on some serious history which gave us a new direction. 

We also met Caroline and Andrew -incredibly articulate and decked out in their Barbour, they seemed more like Sloan Rangers than Free Rangers. However, the rule in Scotland is that you may free camp anywhere just as long as you are not on private property or interfering with someone’s privacy. I think the old smithy would fit the bill. 

On David’s advice we headed for Sandness (pronounced Saners). Sue was to discover that her ancestor was in fact not baptised in Walls (the reason we drove here!!!) but instead in Sandness- well not actually Sandness but in Melby. As luck would have it, we spotted a sign that said ‘Toilet 1/2m’ that way and it just so happened that, that was where Melby was. We were to discover this later and were just fortunate to take photos of the area.

It was on this journey that we meet the peat cutters. They were delightful and happily shared their story of how the system works ie how the peat banks are allocated, the tools that are used, the drying process, the storing and even how it is used for heating and cooking. 

20:45 and it was still light. We drove through incredible wilderness. Nothing but sheep. No trees. Nothing. It was magical but I was pleased when we arrived at our little chalet at 21:30 in full sunlight. It was time to shut down.