Shetland Islands and the North Sea
Post-prandially, the gentle roll of the ship and the white noise background of the engines lulls the ship’s inhabitants into a sleepy state. The passages are quiet as a moment is snatched to write a postcard home or to catch up on journal entries neglected for lack of time. Thoughts sweep back to our days in Scotland for we are leaving now, changing not only venues but cultures too. Shetland however was a good stepping stone, a transition place. Once part of the Norse Empire it was mortgaged to the king of Scotland as a dowry for his future bride. It remains today part of the United Kingdom.
The night was silent. Tied to the pier since early last evening, we became part of the community of Lerwick for a brief period of time. The temperature was mild as we awoke but overcast skies warned that the weather would likely be as changeable as the locals claimed it could be. The rain did come. It was gentle and lasted only long enough to moisten the leaves and feed the roots of rapidly growing flowers that seemed to be determined to grow everywhere and on everything. Splashes of color sprouted in every yard, big or small, walled or fence. Those with no yards still seemed to find space for planters or pots of greenery. Slate roof tiles mimicked the action of rocks in their natural space, collecting the fragments of windblown soil and inviting seeds to roost.
Leaving Lerwick and the island of Mainland we skirted the southern coast of Bressay bound for the Isle of Noss and its six hundred-foot high cliffs. As the ship sailed close to their base a cacophony of sound drifted to our ears. A background melody like the crashing of surf played but it was always overlain by staccato percussion sounds like boulders being tumbled and knocked. The source was not the sea but thousands upon thousands of gannets, kittiwakes, guillemots and more utilizing the eroded sandstone ledges and pockets as homes for their young or just a place to rest. The sounds of their city were the symphony for our live movie show.
Post-prandially, the gentle roll of the ship and the white noise background of the engines lulls the ship’s inhabitants into a sleepy state. The passages are quiet as a moment is snatched to write a postcard home or to catch up on journal entries neglected for lack of time. Thoughts sweep back to our days in Scotland for we are leaving now, changing not only venues but cultures too. Shetland however was a good stepping stone, a transition place. Once part of the Norse Empire it was mortgaged to the king of Scotland as a dowry for his future bride. It remains today part of the United Kingdom.
The night was silent. Tied to the pier since early last evening, we became part of the community of Lerwick for a brief period of time. The temperature was mild as we awoke but overcast skies warned that the weather would likely be as changeable as the locals claimed it could be. The rain did come. It was gentle and lasted only long enough to moisten the leaves and feed the roots of rapidly growing flowers that seemed to be determined to grow everywhere and on everything. Splashes of color sprouted in every yard, big or small, walled or fence. Those with no yards still seemed to find space for planters or pots of greenery. Slate roof tiles mimicked the action of rocks in their natural space, collecting the fragments of windblown soil and inviting seeds to roost.
Leaving Lerwick and the island of Mainland we skirted the southern coast of Bressay bound for the Isle of Noss and its six hundred-foot high cliffs. As the ship sailed close to their base a cacophony of sound drifted to our ears. A background melody like the crashing of surf played but it was always overlain by staccato percussion sounds like boulders being tumbled and knocked. The source was not the sea but thousands upon thousands of gannets, kittiwakes, guillemots and more utilizing the eroded sandstone ledges and pockets as homes for their young or just a place to rest. The sounds of their city were the symphony for our live movie show.
