The Top and The Last of the UK

Thursday we were in Lerwick, Shetland, Scotland, United Kingdom, the  northernmost region of the UK.  The day started nice and sunny and mostly stayed like that.  In port, there were large fishing boats that apparently with capacities of 700 tons of herring!

 We had booked an afternoon excursion so just did a short walk in the morning.

The excursion was the Mousa Island Discovery.  It started with a drive through Lerwick which seemed like a nice town.

We then went to the ferry pier in Sandwick Village and boarded the boat to Mousa Island.

The excursion took us on a 2 mile walk around Mousa Island.  Mousa Island is uninhabited (except for lots of sheep).  The main highlight of the island is the Broch of Mousa.  What's a broch?, you ask.  I'll explain when we get there.  Hiking along, we reached 60 degrees North Latitude.

You'll have to forgive all of the photos.  It was just so picturesque.

Finally, you might be able to discern the broch in the distance.

And, here's the broch, a structure that was built about 300 BCE.

The speculation is that the brochs (and there were many of them around Scotland) were residences and may also have  housed livestock.  We went inside.

There was the option to climb the narrow staircase that is between the walls of the broch, but, in the interest of preserving my well being I opted to go outside and take more photos.

After the broch, the walk continued to complete the loop around the island.  We saw birds, seals, and fantastic scenery.

It was a really good excursion - a beautiful, interesting place.

For this post, I'm going to deviate from the Rules of Civility and include a poem that was posted on the ferry to Mousa Island:

THE NIGHT SAIL TO MOUSA

The heeled-out seals, the ebb and flow, Belie the silent risks below. The leaden skies that threaten rain, Frown on those who sail again.

And yet we sail away from shore, To view the stoney Broch once more. And feel the hum of tiny birds, Whose wings and voice are beyond words.

At sea the surface gently swells, Like flying over Yorkshire fells. Cracks of light begin to show, And cast the sea a honeyed glow.

Around the headland stands the Broch, While gentle waves break on the rock. The tiny Petrels start to swarm, While we guests huddle to keep warm.

Now walking back, just out of reach, We hear the birds on Burgi Ayre beach. The return sails choppy, the wind has shifted, But we just smile, our spirits lifted.

By Sarah Carr.

Peace and blessings,

Linda and Larry