Leaving the mainland

It has been 8 days since I have had access to the Internet, I haven’t broken out in a sweat or anything, this must be the longest I have had away from an "http://" prompt in 7 years.

I last left you in the granite city of Aberdeen, I boarded the MV Hrossey bound for Lerwick on the Shetland Islands, where I connect with another ferry from Norway that will take me to the Faroe Islands and the smallest capital city in the world – Torshavn.

Stood on the main deck watching the grey of Aberdeen get smaller in the distance, I feel that I have taken the next step on my journey as I leave the mainland and head north to unknown places. I chat to a young guy next to me sporting a BBC Orkney fleece, his name is Rory, working for the radio station in Kirkwall for the summer. His home is the tiny island of Auskerry off the coast of Orkney in a notoriously dangerous stretch of water. His father bought the island in the 60’s after retiring as the tour manager for Jethro Tull and now farms the rare North Ronaldsey sheep on the island. The stories of his life growing up on the farm with his brothers, with their adventurous trips across the waters to the main land are the stuff of Enid Blighton books.

The ferry is full of Scots, in full kilt regalia, on their way up to the Faroe Islands for the football match, funnily enough the European Championship match of Faroes vs. Scotland. All the Scots are in good humour and already impressively drunk, I am glad I am not sharing a 6 man berth with any of them. One chap is particularly loud and is sporting a German WWII army helmet, he seems to flash his kilt at any passer by who gives him a stare.

The seas south of Shetland are rough, and I am thrown from my berth. The first time onto the floor and my cycling shoes catch me in the ribs, the 2nd time I land on the chap in the opposite berth who has been thrown to the floor just before me, and embarrassing fumble in the dark follows as we make our way back to our respective beds. Only another 2 hours and we’ll be in Lerwick.

Lerwick was grey, misty and damp. A low cloud covered the whole of the island like a dirty woolen prison blanket, I was barely able to make out the villages across the water from the main town. I was only stopping 10 hours or so until the Norrona arrived from Norway to pick me up and take me the 12 hours or so up to the Faroes. I had just enough time to do some laundry and visit the newly opened and ever so fabulous Shetland Island Museum (it was officially opened the day before by Charles and Camilla). Fortunately I didn't see any of the kilt brigade, but I did stay away from the pubs: