Scotland: Shetland – an archipelago for adventurers. The island of Mainland.

Text: Caro Käßler

Our final day of sailing dawns. The morning starts off grey. Rain is pattering down on the deck; the light is subdued. We don’t plan to set off on the roughly 25 nautical miles back to Lerwick until midday. Before then, there’s still time for a quick shore leave on Yell. We come across our first Shetland ponies – small, shaggy, curious. A few blades of grass sneak their way through the fence – from the supposedly greener side, of course. Complete with contented snorts.

A trip ashore on Yell

Next, we head to the Old Haa Museum and Tearoom, one of the oldest buildings on Yell. Just a few rooms, but plenty of history. On the way back, we make one last stop at the well-stocked Brough Store. We stock up on a few last bits and pieces. The sky remains overcast, but the occasional ray of sunshine paints golden patches across the cockpit. And the wind is blowing strongly again – this time right on the stern – a steady 17 to 20 knots, with significantly stronger gusts.

Cast off! But there’s a trawler right in front of the bow. There isn’t much room to manoeuvre. What now? The decision: the Bremen manoeuvre again. The fisherman next to us is watching what’s going on – and hands us two round fenders to create a bit more space between the boat and the jetty. Kind, pragmatic and spot on.

A rainbow over Lerwick

After several attempts, we manage to set sail. We set course for Lerwick. At first we sail on a half-wind course – until the wind shifts just past Whalsay. We scrap our route through West Linga Sound and opt instead to take the outer passage round Whalsay. The plan doesn’t work out. We’re facing a headwind and the sea is choppy, with waves up to two metres high. We start the engine.

It’s quiet on board. Many are keeping to themselves today. It’s one of those days when you realise that sometimes sailing is also about: persevering, sitting in silence together, looking out for one another. At around 9.30 pm we reach the Bressay Sound. The entrance to Lerwick harbour feels familiar – and yet it’s another moment of arrival. A rainbow arches over the marina. We’re exhausted, but content.

To the south of Mainland

It’s like Groundhog Day all over again: Friday’s the day to head out to sea once more. We hire a car and make the best of it. First stop: Sumburgh Head, the southernmost tip of Shetland. A steep path leads up to the striking lighthouse. It’s very windy.

It’s a spectacular sight to see the birds battling their way back to their nests against the storm. Sumburgh is a paradise for gannets, puffins and gulls. With a bit of luck, you might even spot whales here. Unfortunately not today. Instead, the museum offers natural history, lighthouse technology and military history – plus a tearoom with panoramic views, cakes available on a donation basis and a small but lovely souvenir shop.

A bridge made of shell sand

The Visitor Centre in Hoswick has everything you need for a lunch stop, whilst the Knitwear Village right next door offers Shetland wool in all its forms – from hats to jumpers. Warm, stylish and of outstanding quality. The next stop is St Ninian’s Beach.

A white shell-sand bridge connects the mainland to the offshore island. It was formed after the last Ice Age as sea levels rose, when waves broke around the island. Turquoise-blue water, lush greenery – and in between, there’s us, heading off to our next appointment: the Haar Sauna.

Our farewell to Shetland

A converted horsebox, heated with wood. Three sauna sessions, with a dip in the North Atlantic in between. Crazy? Absolutely. But unforgettable. Then, in the evening, our first pub. The atmosphere: loud, boisterous, karaoke. Our lads pluck up all their courage and belt out ‘Uptown Girl’. Glasses clink, the applause is thunderous.

The next morning, we pack up, say goodbye to the ‘Sparkling Spirit’ and to our skipper, who will be meeting his new crew and facing completely different weather conditions next week. May their journey be a special one too! We shoulder our bags and take Shetland with us – in our hearts, in our logbooks, and in our stories.