Shetland Wool Week .. pt 8 .. end of the tour ..

Yesterday we transferred from our cottage to the The Scalloway Hotel, stopping first for some “Shetland Wool Week” retail therapy at "The Maker's Market". A. bought some loose yarn from the Silly Sheep Fibre Company to spin at home, whilst I bought a Shetland Tweed clad Hip Flask by SHetland by Sheila Hankin.

The Scalloway Hotel was suitable for a one-night stay, but we were disappointed overall with the quality of the food which was mediocre by the standards of the promised menu. I opened my holiday read for only the second time on the trip and sat in the bar sipping on Lerwick Brewery’s finest trying to ignore the very sweary locals who were watching the sport on TV.

There were some interesting sculptures on the harbourside adjacent to the hotel – but on a rainy day we did not venture out much further (and the Castle being closed). A. received notice that we were able to take the car on the same boat as we were travelling on, which was a relief as it removed one level of complication from our return journey. On the downside we were unable to be allocated a cabin for the overnight trip.

This morning, the weather grey and wet again, we drove slowly through Tingwall (Þingvǫllr) stopping briefly to view the Mediaeval Kirk and its historic gravestones from its entrance (the building itself being closed to public access).

En route we had passed the Siberian Thrush (Geokichla sibirica) twitch comprising of a handful of men with large cameras looking glum in the rain, whilst the Thrush failed to show. Later, we were told by an eye-witness that the ‘toggers impatience had resulted in the bird being deliberately flushed to secure photographs acts of which neither we nor the teller condoned. As difficult a decision it was that I had made not to stop and twitch this rarity, we were also relieved not to have been associated with such poor field skills.

Prior to embarkation we (and many others) sat in a liminal state for some hours at the Mareel, having discovered that Lerwick was pretty much closed on a Sunday. On board now we are both facing a poor night’s crossing trying to sleep in the lounge or dining area, comforted to know that tomorrow on disembarkation all we need to do is to drive home. However long the journey takes – and with the knowledge that we can also grab an overnight stay along the way if required, neither of us being expected back at work until Tuesday morning.