There are places in Scotland that have defied the ravages of time. The wild winds and weather of the north Atlantic work to mummify these sites, embalming them in thick layers of silt and sand and dirt covered over with coastal grasses. They remain hidden from the eye and outside the reckoning of men until that capricious weather once more works its magic to reveal something ancient to the modern world.
In 1897, such a storm tore through Shetland’s southern mainland, riling up the sea and eroding earth along the coast to reveal a curiously ancient wall. Formal excavations began nearly 30 years later on the site known as Jarlshof and the rest is literally history. Lots of it. Read more...
Sumburgh Head is a maelstrom of birds on the pommel of Shetland. Cliffs, echoing with their songs, dive to the surging waves beneath me. The rest of the island chain cuts the sea to the north, like shards from some mythic hero-god’s sword. I turn away from the circling Shags, Kittiwakes, and Fulmars and look south into the gemstone ocean. In the moments it takes the blindness to recede: the cacophony is torn by the wind and flung across the water; the northern sun’s heat vies with cool sea winds; and a perfume of iron, sulphur, cold air, and cut grass climbs skyward. My sight returns pixel by pixel to reveal an island cutting through the mist on the horizon.
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Face first in this stone-strewn sand somewhere under the western arm of Shetland’s mainland, my perspective shifts to that of a cockle shell as the world magnifies again and again. Seawater so cold it hardly bothers to fall on the beach shushes away just as we’re about to make a cold embrace. Weak light filters through low clouds, color-blinding everything. Where people are absent there is a silence that pulls at my guts and sends shivers skittering up my spine.
Away from Lerwick, so much of Shetland is draining of people. Hard times, lack of infrastructure, and a void of opportunities are sending the people away from the hills… Read more...
The wind hisses as it passes through the tall beach grasses. A golden bracelet of sand rises from the sea as the tides recede. This narrow ayre connects the claw that is mainland Shetland to St. Ninian’s Isle, a blot of land named after that enigmatic papar. Across the expanse a ramshackle 12th-century chapel moulders in its secrets: caches of ancient silver, neolithic graves. Visitors cross the divide in pairs, plodding to the deserted isle in silent pilgrimage. Two tiny, black specks against the gold.
We can only cross from what is to what will be when the time is right. The sea must pull back, the stars align, the moon rise. Our impatient tempers cannot force the issue without unwanted consequences. Read more...
Hopefully you’ve enjoyed reading about my time at the 31st Shetland Folk Festival. It was a fantastic experience, and it’s an event lovers of folk music and natural splendor should consider when planning a trip to Scotland. To help make your Shetland Folk Festival experience the best it can possibly be, I happily endured countless hours of lost sleep and repeated abuse of my liver.
The following tips will put you in pole position to enjoy an amazing 32nd Shetland Folk Festival.
The 32nd Shetland Folk Festival is only 350 days away. Time to clear the calendar for May 3-6, 2012! Read more...
A hunter, oft-stubbled and bleary-eyed, driven by an insatiable hunger for exploration and experience - and perhaps a chance to thin the herd of caffeinated and alcoholic beverages. From the highlands and islands to Edinburgh, Glasgow, and the Borders, I explore Scotland with a pen in hand and a fire in the belly (which could be partly from the whisky). 
