Monday 9 July 2018

June Foula, perhaps my favourite place!

Almost where the North Sea meets the Atlantic and in the path of old Norse trade routes, Foula is one of Shetland’s remote islands. The island has been inhabited since the Neolithic Age and is unique in many ways. It has a number of international designations - Site of Special Scientific Interest for its flora and fauna as well as for the geomorphology of its coastline. And it is also a Special Protection Area for its birds.  It’s a place where I think I’d quite like to live - for a time! 

We spend the entire morning wandering the cliff tops and hill sides looking at flowers, but also birds. The backdrop was breathtaking in a wonderfully quiet and gentle way - clouds of mist came and went over magnificent hills, stone cottages and walls, Shetland ponies and sheep shedding their coats, flower-decked cliffs like high rise apartments dotted with fulmars nesting in tiny ‘cliff gardens’, skylarks fluttering high above our heads singing their hearts out and close in to shore Harbour as well as Grey seals kept track of our progress. The peaty ground, soft under foot, was potholed by grazing sheep and ponies as well as rabbits - not to mention peat cutters. Absolutely magical!

My small group was fortunately to have a very knowledgeable woman as its guide - Sheila Gear the island’s Matriarch, whose family have been Foula islanders for many generations.  We finished at the schoolhouse-cum-community centre for morning tea with cakes made by the kids and locals - there are just 35 people living on the island and everyone mucks in for absolutely everything. The climate is harsh at times, but Foula is a glorious, magical place and the people open and friendly. It was a place to dream, I loved it!


The island has a small ferry that goes to the ‘mainland’ once a week weather permitting - a 2 hour rough trip. The harbour is fairly protected but the seas are so wild that they hoist the boat out of the water when it is not in use. That’s 6 out of 7 days a week as storms can blow out of nowhere.


Words can’t describe this! To me it must be one of the most beautiful places I’ve seen.  A little piece of paradise. 


The Shetland ponies in their native land are adorable fat and completely tame. This wee foal is a month old and just a metre tall. Mum isn’t much taller!


The roof of this old house is tarred sailcloth, up market from thatch but not insurable!


Everywhere we came across yellow iris. They are so bright. The children make boats out of the leaves - I’ll show you one day. With the fog sliding down the hill I was totally captured. So peaceful.


Lush patch with orchids and silver weed - and other lovely things.


This is a northern march orchid. Quite small- 25cm.


This pretty - red campion, was a vivid blaze in the lush green or along the roadside.


The skeleton of an old fishing boat is now the home of this nesting fulmar. Interesting thing about fulmars. They are quiet birds but if you get to close or threaten them they regurgitate a foul smelling ‘oil’ which is pretty bad I’m told.


The gardens are walled against the sheep which eat anything and everything 


Heath spotted orchid with cotton grass on the background.


Old peat fields on the cliff now covered in grass.


‘Fulmar mansions’. A tranquil spot for nesting. Each fulmar pair had its own wee garden. Sorry a tad anthropomorphic but .....



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