Shetland After Dark: Night Owl Meets Storm Petrels

The SoloTravelless sets out on a nightly adventure that proves Shetland has much more to offer than oil, wool, and their infamous ponies.*

*As warned, here a little leftover from my newspaper days — it’s called a ‘standfirst,’ an introductory summary important to travel writers to show who’s doing the exploring; something that might not be needed on here as you’re willingly stuck with me.

“They should be here any minute,” Garry says walking towards the cliff where I found a somewhat comfortable stone – as comfortable as a stone can be in the middle of the night. I was taking in the view, listening to the waves breaking against the cliffs, an incredibly peaceful sound I never knew I missed. In the distance, hidden behind several layers of fog, I can make out the other coast. Only a few street lights illuminate the pier, the rest of Lerwick is covered in darkness. A whole town fast asleep while 20 individuals, wrapped in scarves and blankets, are willingly stranded on Mousa Island.

“The fog might have delayed their arrival,” Garry tells me with a concerned look on his face, checking his watch and turning towards the rest of the group. “And that might too,” he adds. Distracted from my thoughts, I turn around and spot our other tour guide, Andy, frantically waving his arms trying to catch people’s attention. “No, no! No flashes! Otherwise we might be out here for another hour,” he yells.

Another hour? While the picturesque scenery and Garry’s calm presence made me enjoy the island’s tranquillity for the last two hours, this announcement hits home. Why did I think it was a good idea to sign up for a night sailing trip when I could have been resting my head on a cosy pillow like the rest of my team?

The misty cold slowly crawls up my feet. The fascination of life beyond the big city lights, gone. Anxiety about the next day at work is starting to take its place when suddenly, Garry points towards the air with a big smile on his face. “Did you see that?”

Having initially only spotted one or two gliding through the crisp air, seconds later Garry’s pointing skills are no longer required as their chirping song cuts through the silence announcing their arrival and accompanying their dance around Mousa Broch like a perfectly rehearsed show they put on just for us. 

Although usually silent at sea, the storm petrel has a chattering call given by both members of a pair in their courtship flight, something that can only be witnessed at night on exposed and usually uninhabited islands, just like the one we were on, the preferred breeding ground for such creatures.

Given such deafening sounds when gathered together, one can understand why they are often referred to as Mother Carey’s Chickens – Mother Carey being a supernatural figure personifying the cruel and threatening sea in the imagination of 18th-19th century English speaking sailors. She was a harbinger of storms, similar to Davy Jones who more of us may be familiar with, and who may have been her husband. Their chickens, today’s storm petrels, were thought to be the souls of dead seamen, a fact that adds another layer of mystery to the spectacular sight attracting photographers from all over the world.

While the petrels take centre stage during the night, Mousa Broch is a sight itself as the best-preserved broch in Scotland. Built only of dry stone with no mortar, this circular hollow-walled tower thought to have been constructed circa 100 BC, is the tallest broch still standing. It has one of the smallest overall diameters as well as one of the thickest wall bases and smallest interiors. This massive construction along with its remote location are likely to be the main reasons for its excellent state of preservation.

Having been used over centuries, the stories Mousa Broch could tell are surely endless whereas two Norse Sagas put some rather romantic versions into writing. Egil’s Saga tells of a shipwrecked couple who was eloping from Norway to Iceland and used the broch as a temporary refuge. The Orkneyinga Saga, on the other hand, gives an account of a siege of the broch by Earl Harald Maddadsson in 1153 following the abduction of his mother, who was held inside the broch.

Be it a prison or a lovers’ refuge, it’s definitely not the most comfortable place to be stuck in. Even if the sight of the petrels might have lifted the spirits, the nightly winds sneaking through the cracks leave you chilled to the bone, back then as well as today wherefore it was time for us to leave the scene as soon as the petrels finished their show and settled down for the night.

Back on the boat, watching street lights flicker in the distance getting closer and closer, I’m starting to shiver, something I’m only becoming fully aware of when somebody offers me their scarf, a heart-warming gesture that no longer surprises me as it’s something I experienced various times throughout my stay on Shetland where hospitality appears to be the common currency.

Thinking back to how I even got here, I remember the initial worries about being picked up by a stranger in the middle of the night due to the lack of buses that could get me to the ferry prompting the captain to offer me a ride. Being dependent on that person to also drive me home after would ring alarm bells for any rational thinking city dweller, but as soon as I sat down next to Garry chatting about his twin daughters’ birthday plans to go to Edinburgh causing him concern as they never left Shetland before – a place where nobody locks their doors, ever – I could not help but feel safe.

Once dropped off at my hotel, safely, I curl up in bed reflecting on the night and start wondering what to report to my colleagues the next day who chuckled saying it might be a bit early for me to embrace bird-watching as a past time, something I might have thought myself until tonight.

While the petrels were the main reason to go out into the chilly winds of the night, the welcoming nature of Shetland’s locals actually blew me away. It made me fall in love with this sleepy island full of natural phenomena and mythical sights, a haven of tranquillity with a unique sense of community, the latter most likely being the main reason I’d pay this little gem of the world another visit, and so should you.

Our Nightly Mousa Adventure in Pictures

Lovely Lerwick During the Day

When not jumping on boats with strangers in the middle of the night, I also went for exploratory runs after work during the day to get a better idea of the island I got sent to for a week — definitely worse places to be stuck in, have a look:

When was I there? 7-12 July 2013

Which company did I use? The Mousa Boat**

**For the ones who asked, do let me know if you need further information. For the ones who didn’t, don’t you worry, the story was written before the website was thought of — all views are my own. 🙂