Sheep and life in Fair Isle, Scotland

Sheep rock is part of the view from my window and sings out in the sun.  It is fully an island at lower tide, maybe 400 meters high.  Just as steep as you can see it.

For centuries, and continuing until the 1970's, Fair Islanders grazed their sheep there during the summer and brought them back to the croft during the winter.

I am in awe at the hard work those folks were capable of and struck by how precarious their lives were that they needed to take advantage of that resource.

The men had to scale the rock face on a permanently fixed chain on the south (tall) side).  Then they had to haul the sheep up the cliff face in order to leave them to graze.  Then they had to repeat the process to take them down.

My mind keeps coming back to the frugal lives they led.  The island was owned privately by landlords who lived elsewhere until the 1950's when the National Trust for Scotland bought it.  Now the National Trust is the absentee landlord and apparently a good one.  Commonly, crofters had 8 acres and a boat which was just enough to feed the family without a bad year.

Life was pretty hard and many Islanders moved away to Orkney or Scotland in the 1800's. A couple visiting here tonight is following their family tree back and discovered that their great grand parents left here for Orkney in about 1830.  Family letters say that they were unable to survive  with their boat and field, especially since they had to buy everything from the landlord's store at his inflated prices. The fishing industry in Orkney was thriving then so they moved.

The north half of the island has been common grazing land since prehistoric times and remains so today.  The photos show the prehistoric dyke as well as a modern stone fence marking that boundary. It may be as much as 5000 years old.

The south half is crofts, or small farms.  Some of the land is used for crops but most is used for grazing animals.  I have only seen sheep but maybe they also have some dairy or beef cattle.



Hardy folk all around.

The current population of the Island is about 70.  One of the issues is whether there are enough children to keep the school open.  They have been advertising for people with school age children to move in.  In case anyone knows anyone, it seems like a really nice life here now.  They no longer have to haul the sheep up the cliff anyway and our ferry was filled with groceries and supplies from Lerwick.  During times when more labor is needed, the National Trust sends volunteers and the fellows from the Bird Observatory pitch in.  The guys were out helping with the hay-baling.  Moving here seems like a good chance to take. They are not looking for retired folks, though--they have enough already.

Hiking and Birding Sumberg Head, Shetland Island

Another glorious day on the "mainland of the Shetland Islands.

I hiked the coastal train from Sumbergh Head back to the hotel after getting a ride up.  This is the piece of the Shetlands which is the southern peninsula that sticks down toward Orkneys and Scotland. The headland separates the North Atlantic Ocean from the North Sea.

From the top of the lighthouse: Atlantic on right, North Sea on left

The area is now an RSPB (Royal Society for Protection of Birds) refuge which manages the wilelife, and protects the historic light house.  The lighthouse is now automated but has been there for several hundred years.  It was an important radar station in WWII and warned Britian of the German air attacks against Scappa Flow in the Orkneys, thus saving the British Navy.  "The Pearl Harbor that wasn't," was an interesting exhibit.

Looking north from the top.

This is daisy season here for wild flowers.  The birdlife is wonderful and why I was visiting.  Puffins are everywhere--thousands.  They are so easy to see that I managed to actually take pictures with my little camera.  Other delights--guillemots, gannets, fulmars, kittiwakes, oystercatchers.  My big excitement were Skuas, both great skua and artcic skua.  They are the dominant predator here and were all over the place.  I also saw grey seals swimming from my tip top post. Only pictures of puffins here--I just could not get over how close they were.

Puffin head emerging from its burrow just under the grass

After spending time at the top in the pleasant visitor center, I hiked back to the hotel via the coastal trail.  The photos below are looking back up the trail from about half way.  It is about 2.5 miles.



All remained fairly sunny and mild until almost back home.  Rain started as I was near the hotel so I broke in my new hat. But how civilized to be warm and cozy for afternoon coffee and cupcake.

 A couple more scenery shots.

Aberdeen to Sumbergh Head, Shetland Islands. July 2015

I am off on the grand birding and archeology tour of the Northern Islands of Scotland while Nancy heads to Seattle and points U.S.  My first stop--Aberdeen, Scotland. We are in Viking territory now.

Granite City--that is Aberdeen's nickname because the whole thing is made out of granite.  Dark grey with shiny flecks is the basic rock around Aberdeen.  Thank heavens it is kind of sunny so the shiny bits sparkle.  Otherwise, it is pretty dark and kind of forbidding. City is tidy and looks prosperous. The granite buildings are mixed with modern shopping malls and office buildings.

This city was chartered in the 1100's by the Scottish king and suffered when the English won.  The general area had been inhabited since the early stone age. Good rivers, good harbor--many advantages as a city site so it recovered from the wars and continued to thrive in business.  Still does. I am only here overnight so limited time to explore. But one of the main news items in the paper is a spread that 25 graves of some 11th C monks have been discovered as a private school was digging to replace their electric lines. The monastery was closed and destroyed during the Reformation and most of its site has been lost to records so everyone is surprised and interested. The other news concerned the fishing industry.  We had gotten pretty good at reading the Irish agricultural reports about the price of lamb vs. beef.  Now--cod vs. mussels.

Everything granite.

Aberdeen is the main harbor for serving the North Sea oil platforms and the hotel has clocks showing the time in Aberdeen, Oslo and Houston. Not interested in London, New York, Tokyo.  I love seeing all the giant ships in the harbor where my ferry takes off.  They are supply ships for the oil rigs. While all looks prosperous to me, one of my shipmates pointed out the many oil tankers parked just outside the harbor.  The price of oil is so low, that much capacity is idle. Flock of mergansers in the harbor, my first on this trip. Yay.







Next day

I was overnight on the Northlink Ferry to Lerwick, the main city of the Shetlands.  Everything is "Magnus:"  the wifi password, the bar/lounge, the logo of the Viking on the ship.  Turns out Magnus was the Viking earl of Orkney who also controlled the Shetlands.  Nothing even pretends to be Scots here--they fly the Shetland flag, their big summer festival is about Vikings.  I had a cozy berth for the overnight trip and enjoyed the beautiful evening in a front window seat for the evening. Although the ship docks at 7:30 am, breakfast is open until 9. How civilized.

10 PM-the beginning of sunset, looking north.

I am glad I took my time and ate on the boat since nothing is open in Lerwick on Sunday morning. Walking from the boat to the bus station was lovely.  Warmish--65 degrees, mild breeze.  Time to watch the terns carry fish to their babies, watch a herring gull catch and eat a crab.  The bus to Sumbergh Head came along at 12:15. Quite a few people on the bus--where did they come from in this empty town?  Sumbergh is the main airport so there are several reasons to visit. My ferry to Fair Isle leaves from here too on Tuesday morning.

In 2005, Nancy, Kitty and I had a grand trip to Norway and Scotland with a good stopover here in the Shetlands. As I got off the ship this morning, there was the hotel we stayed in for one night and where we got stuck in the elevator.  In my memory it was hours but probably actually 30-40 minutes. The famous hotel and elevator are just the same.  So was the Viking bus station in the town center.  It felt kind of homey.

On that trip we went even further north and stayed in Unst, the most northern inhabited area of the UK. But we also did some exploring on the south mainland as this area is called.  We visited the archeological site Jarlshof--a settlement from the bronze age through the 17 C. It is right here with the former laird's house which turns out to be my hotel now.  I was hoping it was the same one and to my delight I am in this old-fashioned hotel in a gorgeous spot.  I am looking out on the bird refuge and lighthouse, Fair Isle is off in the distance.  It is sunny and should be sunny tomorrow too.  Yay. How civilized.

Sumbergh Head and lighthouse from the hotel

Images of Conflict in Northern Ireland Murals

Sometimes on our travels we have walked into unanticipated situations, emotional events we didn't expect, though we perhaps should have. The hangover in Northern Ireland, and in Ireland too, from the years of the Troubles was evident to us from the moment we crossed into Derry from Donegal. We were a little taken aback, but over the last few weeks we tried to come to terms with the emotions we found inside ourselves. It was a rough go.

This poem on a wall in Belfast commemorates Bobby Sands, who starved to death in a British prison. He and nine others refused to wear prison uniforms; they wanted to wear their own clothes to confirm their status as political prisoners - the British decided that Irish nationalists were mere criminals, took away their clothes and left them naked. Cleaned their cells and them with fire hoses. To keep the shreds of their dignity the Irish prisoners died. This was in 1981, not very long ago.

Bobby Sands, who became a poet in jail. Note these murals are not signed.

We weren't looking for serious political confrontations on our holiday. Still, we went on guided tours in Derry and Belfast, trying to understand something of the tension we couldn't help but notice. 

The Troubles ended, more or less, in 1998 with the Good Friday Accords. Many Irish and British and Northern Irish died in this decades-long conflict. People were burned out of their homes, livlihoods were destroyed. Bitter memories persist. 

Nobody was a saint in this conflict. Both sides did terrible things. It's truly hard to defend bombs blowing up teenage girls and people you don't know at all. It's easy to get depressed about what humans are capable of, isn't it? We tried to stay on keel.

The issues are incredibly complex, and I don't think I can explain them. Everybody thinks they themselves are right. Both cities still have segregated housing, and also it appears that jobs and education are highly segregated. Both sides engage in political exchanges via wall-sized murals. Here are some. 

The child in this photo was shot.
Celtic interlace identifies the mural as Catholic.

This first lot are from Belfast. Notice the Celtic edging, and how in Bobby Sands' portrait the interlace becomes chains that are broken by his actions. The imagery is good. The colors are engaging. The message is a moral one:  it isn't right to kill these children, these young people. 

The Memorial Flute Band, commemorating two deaths.

Who are these people, responding to murder with a flute band? Just makes a body to think!

I didn't pick up who wrote this song.
The message is clear - nationalists are not criminals.

I'm including rather handsome murals with dazzling color and clear positions. There are many, many more.

Now, here are a few from the Protestant Orangemen. The style is quite different. We arrived in Derry on June 24 and left from Belfast on July 3. In Belfast, preparations were underway for the Orange March.

July 12 commemorates the Battle of the Boyne, when in 1690 William of Orange defeated the Catholic James II to claim the throne of England and Ireland for Protestant rule. Every summer on July 12 military-style Orange units march around (used to be through) the Catholic neighborhoods, trying to annoy the Catholics, which they do. Generally violence comes along with the march, and this year again there was a small riot. We, however, were gone by then.

The ex-government of Northern Ireland coat of arms still appears on this wall

Quis Separabit = Who Shall Separate?

There's a lot of symbolism in this mural, besides the English lion and stag. You can see the Irish harp, upper left, for instance, and the Red Hand in the center. This refers to a myth:

The kingdom of Ulster, in pagan times, had no heir, and two contending sides agreed to a boat race - whoever laid their hand on Ireland first, would win. Naill O'Neill realized he was losing, cut off his hand and threw it onto the shore to claim the kingship.

Well, so the story goes, and if you don't believe me, let me tell you another, having to do with two fighting giants. This lion is laughing ferociously, compared with many English heraldic lions which are rather glum, and the whole painting is pretty cheerful. However, overall the Protestant Ulstermen seem to feel threatened, and that's not a cheerful feeling.

Neighborhoods are separated by fencing

More symbols of the Orangemen.
The central figure is a sniper.

Now why would you remind your neighbors that you idealize violence against them? Can't we just all get along? Seems not. Large Protestant settlement happened in Derry and elsewhere in Ulster after William II won his crown, right through the 18th century, and Catholic elites saw their lands confiscated, their power destroyed. Catholics were thoroughly marginalized in Ulster and all over Ireland. Then there was the cruel famine, exacerbated by British indifference, and the death or emigration of millions of Irish. So. Uneasy lies the head that can never say, we're so sorry.

At the culmination of the Orange marches, bonfires are set.
Here's a bonfire-in-the making.
Inside the framework of pallets are hundreds of tires. A smoky fire!

I'm not Irish by descent (Julianne is), and I'm not Catholic by upbringing. My political tendency is to side with the underdog. I like the Catholic murals much better than the threatening Orangemen ones. Can't help myself.

But actually nobody comes out smelling good in this struggle. Random bombings and targeted assassinations - done by both sides - how can you walk back from that? How will the survivors ever trust you, or work together for the common good? They won't. They never will.

In Derry, things are darker, and the murals too are harsher. Just a few, for the flavor.

In Bogside, a Catholic neighborhood

Another from Bogside

From Waterside, the Protestant half of town

However, in Derry there's an overt effort to change the imagery. Derry is a grimmer place, lots of awful things happened there. Yet there's a need to find a way out of those feelings.

The girl was killed, her soul as a butterfly flies up.
The gun is broken, signifying the IRA has turned
away from violence. Note Irish flag here in Northern Ireland.

This mural, in the Waterside, has had a provocative anti-
Catholic image painted out.

Peace sculpture  stands between Bogside and Waterside.

And, they're not shooting each other. That's good. 1998 isn't very long ago, and people have to keep watch, to keep these fires from flaring up again.

by Nancy, pictures by Nancy too
comments from Julianne prompted some revisions

Lemon Pie and other reflections on Northern Ireland in July

Lemon meringue pie has everything.  The sweet/tart combination.  Fluffy meringue with a bit of crustiness on top.  Served with cream around here.  The completely delicious dessert, in a land of dessert displays to die for.  Northern Ireland for two weeks: glorious scenery, ethnic tension and grand desserts.  I am sure we must have had access to lemon pie in the Republic, probably could have had in London.  I recall my mother making lemon meringue pie when I was very young.  But somehow it has fallen out of my life until a trip from Derry around the north coast of Northern Ireland (or NI as they say there.)  What a delightful newly awakened taste.

Being a tourist in NI in early July has so many interesting bits, overlaid for me with much emotion around the newly-established peace which has ushered in the possibility of tourism.  My mother's parents migrated to the US from NI in the 1890's   They were Catholics leaving Protestant strongholds, allowing me to be raised in a society where such a distinction means relatively little. Sadly, I have little information about their homes, any current distant relatives or even their family situation when migrating. I am sorry about that now but the generation who knew anything is gone. I know even less about the great grands on my fathers side who migrated from Cork also in the late 1800s.  Oh well.

I expected to approach NI just as I did the Republic as a simple tourist with little roots-research interest.  That kind of happened. Maybe at some point I will be ready to write more about the serious ethnic tension which slammed us as we crossed from Donegal to Derry: leaving the Republic and entering the UK.  Peace exists.  No soldiers on the streets.  Cannot even identify the borders. Government tourism agencies in the Republic promote tourism along the north coast with maps and brochures.

Having worked so long in the refugee world, though, the signs of social fragility were glaring to me. The words of my recent interviewees from Congo, Iraq and other trouble spots caused me to see and feel danger quickly. And we were in NI during the "marching season" which is when the Protestant Orangemen parade through town with large drums wearing their historical costumes.  I personally love parades and there is much to admire about the part of NI society which arrived 400 years ago, following William of Orange.  They have made a beautiful farming economy and seem to be producing fantastic lemon meringue pie.  When we were away from Derry and Belfast, especially along the north-most coast, we were in lovely villages and towns with little edge of ethnic tension despite the Orange symbols here and there.  We enjoyed our time there immensely.

Derry/Londonderry and Belfast were another matter where the symbols of competing histories and identities are in your face.  However, the efforts to diffuse tension and maintain peace by all parties and international partners are equally present and apparently effective.  See the link below reporting that the season, which culminates on July 12 has been largely peaceful.

We saw the towers being built in Belfast which would be burned on 11th night (July 11) but we were safely away before the actual burning and most marching.  We did see a small parade in Ballintoy as people marched in costume from the Orange Hall to the Church.  In our small town, it was a festive occasion giving the impression of a Memorial Day parade in the U.S. with no edge that we could identify. The area is rural and completely Protestant.  No fires were planned that we could see.

Tower of pallets mixed with tires being built for the 11th night fires.

Here are news articles giving more photos and information:
Fire link from UK Daily Mail
Peaceful marching link from The Guardian

Blackwatertown , a Catholic settlement in Armagh.
Although surrounded by Protestant villages, 
proudly gives its name in Gaelic and displays the symbol of Ulster,
the original Irish kingdom prior to King William's conquest.

A display of Orange symbols including
William of Orange in the center.
Many villages and towns had such banners across main streets.

As far as I can tell from peaceful Dublin, as I write, violence was averted for the most part.

So as I cast my mind back to our time there, I am not trivializing the tension and the efforts at peace by all when I focus on the surprise of rediscovering lemon meringue pie and its modern iterations.



Our friend, Molly, arrived from Seattle adding to the pleasure of the trip. We stayed a week in the charming north coast village of Ballintoy and took hikes and car trips to the many natural wonders of the area. Giant's Causeway, a UNESCO World Heritage site, was our target but we found the whole area to be accessible and stunning.  Our pattern was to do some hiking and eat pie every day.




Our cottage in Ballintoy was next neighbor to the Red Door Cafe, home of our very favorite lemon pie.  That is the photo at the top of the blog.  The pie against which all other desserts have been measured.




Also in Ballintoy, at the harbor, was a dessert display to aspire to while scrambling across the rocks in the hike to and from Whitepark Bay, west along the coast.

The hike to Whitepark Bay. Short but tough.  Need pie!

Ballintoy Harbor with Rathlin Island in the background. 

The Bushmills Inn has created Lemon Possett as a modern iteration with all the sweet-tang but a little lighter.  We knew nothing about possets but it turns out that we are on the cusp of a trend.  Here is some info and a recipe which I will try sometime.


The walk from our house to the Carrick-a-rede rope bridge allowed for dessert at both ends.  Lemon drizzle cake in Carrick-a-rede and pie at the Red Door upon return.


Bangor, east of Belfast, was a breath of fresh air.  The tall ship race from Ireland to Norway and Denmark was beginning with the tall sailing ships parading in the harbor.  Nancy's artist friends entertained us and we enjoyed a beautiful day day with charming folks.  Where gates were needed to prevent car bombs, artists pods and green space prevail now.



And more lemon desert.  The Salty Dog in Bangor, near Belfast, combines lemon with the local strawberries now in season.

More dessert and scenery photos:

Donnelly bakery in Ballycastle. They have lemon everything, strawberry, chocolate.  
We were too early in the day for pie.  "Come back later." 
But we found things to enjoy.  Intrepid--that is us.

Lemon plus strawberry and rhubarb also in season.

Nancy, drawing.

We are walking along the clifftop.

This one fooled us.  Mango, not lemon.
Still delicious.

Scotland is there in the haze behind us in Ballintoy Harbor.

Our Harbor at Ballintoy.  Some programs of Game of Thrones were filmed here.

Molly. Walking from Carrick-a-redy to Ballintoy.

Text by Julianne.
Photos from Molly, Julianne and Nancy.
Desserts by various bakers, eaten by all of us.