To Mousa, eventually

Dear Reader(s), you will remember that our intrepid fivesome were, at the end of the previous episode, marooned in Balta, and that Balta is a windswept, foggy winderness whence tomorrow may not come. However, tomorrow did come and it was indeed, another day.  It was another windy and foggy day. 

My beloved cooked chicken. It was a special recipe called "Chicken Balta". 

Balta in the windy fog has little to recommend it, apart of course for the chicken.  And so on.

Next off, Burravoe.

Burravoe is nice.  The marina is entirely good and intact (unlikely Balta which is, to be frank, unintact).

Burravoe also has a fleet of four Albacores.  It was Regatta Day.  Amy and Tim were recruited to fill in for absent locals who, we understood, may have been delayed as a result of having to celebrate a wedding on the Isle of Yell.  Amy helmed for a very nice man who turned out to be The King of Yell.  Tim crewed for another very nice man, but he was not the King of Yell. The King of Yell came from Chichester. This was surprising but did have a reasonable and quite understandable explanation which I will not explain yet, or possibly ever.

Tim and Amy did well and won prizes. We all had fish and  chips.  We saw an otter. Burravoe was indeed, very nice.

Sunday, 21st July.

Off to Vidlin Voe.

Vidlin Voe, as well as being rather a pleasant sounding name, is a pleasant place, with a nice marina and very nice people.

Vidlin Voe is also on "The Mainland", making it convenient for taxis etc.

Magnus (Team H's personal driver) arrived early to pick up three-fifths of our intrepid team.

We said "Goodbye" and were sorry to see them go, but at least we knew they would be safe with Magnus.

(for an account of Team H's subsequent journey to Sussex, please download their report "Four Hundred and Eighty things to do at Sumburgh Airport in the fog" and its exceptionally successful sequel "Four Hundred and Ninety things to on a ferry in fog".

Monday, 22nd July.

To Out Skerries.

Out Skerries is probably the most friendly island in the world.

On the way to Out Skerries we saw a whale (forgive the non sequiter), Footloose were following but unfortunately missed it. (This idiom was constructed mainly for my pleasure and that of my son, who will probably pale at its subtle complexities).

We were met at the pier by the Harbour Master and a man on a bike.

Last year 47 sailing boats visited Out Skerries.

The pier is lined with black lorry tyres which themselves are covered with special black stuff.

Some Norwegians arrived from Bergen and went for a swim.

We went for two nice walks.  It was sunny.

There was man with a lawnmower mowing the airstrip.

Another man explained that the newly erected port hand marker in the south entrance to the harbour was in the wrong position and that, as a result, the ferry was refusing to use that entrance.

I wondered if this controversy had been specially engineered in Brussels to aid social cohesion.

Next morning the Norwegians had a pre-breakfast swim.  We didn't.

We left by the South entrance.

Footloose ran aground briefly.

Tuesday, 23 July.

We arrived in Lerwick.

Lerwick means "muddy bay" in Viking.

The marina was quite full.

Mainly Norwegians and Icelanders.  The Norwegians visit Lerwick as a "weekend trip” from Bergen which is only 48 hours away.  Because it is summer, weekends are much longer at these latitudes. The Norwegians like to go shopping and buy stainless steel cooking utensils. The Icelanders seem to sleep a lot.  Most people smile and are very friendly, especially when Ingela is taking their ropes.  Ingela wears shorts.

Whilst in Norway we went shopping (at the Co-op), we visited the museum and the castle and we went out to supper.  Next day we walked to the "Viking Bus Station" and had a nice ride in a bus to see Jarlshof which is a fascinating archaeological site.  The Vikings in Lerwick don't often go out with their traditional headgear fitted.  I found this disappointing.

Thursday, 25th July.

We motored towards Mousa.

We had an especially happy day.

We anchored off Mousa and Jean cooked chicken. We all enjoyed our Chicken Mousa.

It was a wobbly night at anchor.

Friday, 26th July.

We all went ashore and visited the Broch of Mousa.

This is a 2300 year old house, built in stone and 13 metres high.  It is best preserved Broch in the world and looks remarkably like a power station cooling tower.

One day I will post some photographs on this blog. Unfortunately Mousa, which is uninhabited doesn’t have broadband.

Here it is.