To the North! – Hermaness Nature Reserve, Seabird Colonies, Muckle Flugga Lighthouse, Burra Firth, Bobby’s Bus Shelter
On my second day on Unst, Matthew from the Unst Leisure Centre kindly delivered to me an electric bike that I had arranged to rent for two days to help me visit different parts of the island. My destination for today was the Hermaness Nature Reserve, at the very northern tip of Unst. I was very glad to have splurged on the electric bike because of the island’s hills and, no surprise, because I had to ride against very strong headwinds! It was a cold morning and I only stopped once en-route, at Burra Firth.
An uphill ride then led me to the parking area of the Hermaness National Nature Reserve where a looped trail of 10 km would lead me across a sweeping expanse of moor and blanket bog to reach dramatic high cliffs full of nesting seabirds, and views of Muckle Flugga, the U.K.’s most northerly lighthouse which is built on a jagged pinnacle of rock and is at the mercy of the formidable North Sea.
I began the climb up a trail, with views across Burra Firth, to the white globe of the old RAF station on the hill named Saxa Vord.
The trail stretched ahead and soon became a boardwalk which made the walking very easy and dry across the soft boggy ground. The expanse of moor was punctuated by small rivulets and pools of dark peaty water. It was very windy, but the sun was shining and the sky was blue!
The boardwalk is also there to protect the nesting sites of Great Skuas, known in Shetland as Bonxies. Hermaness is one of the world’s largest colonies of these impressive birds but sadly the avian flu decimated 80 percent of Shetland’s Bonxies in 2022. I did see several as they flew overhead, warning me to stay away from their nests. The walk over the moor was a great pleasure, and then I arrived at the coast!
Wow! The height of the cliffs, the strength of the wind, and the motion and roar of the waves below was a bit dizzying, but these sheep and puffins, living on the steep slopes and right at the edge of the cliffs, didn’t seem to mind!
I turned and walked south towards a hill called the Neap, with a large gannet colony on the cliffs below. Turning back, the Muckle Flugga lighthouse had come into view!
I rose up towards the Neap and could smell the colony before I saw it! The cliffs were white with thousands of nesting gannets and the sky was full of them soaring and wheeling, so fast, in the strong wind.
Here is one who came close enough for a half decent photo!
The nesting birds were quite distant, and this was the best photo I could manage of these beautiful birds, many of whom were busy preening as they sat on their nests or rested on the cliffside.
I wish that I had walked the extra half mile past the Neap for more views of this large colony, but mindful of my leg I returned to the main loop trail that would lead me around to Muckle Flugga. The scenery was stunning!
And there were puffins!
I watched them for some time as they socialized in small groups or in cozy pairs. Sometimes, if one of a pair flew off, a bachelor (or perhaps bachelorette) would rush in and ask, “Hey, how about maybe you get together with me?”, only to be gently rebuffed. They would then leave and look around again optimistically, alert for another opportunity!
I continued on the path and came to a series of jagged sea stacks, all in a row, that were covered with gannets. Hermaness boasts around 30,000 breeding pairs!
This stack had a sea arch,
and I suspect that there might be a mathematical equation that describes the spatial distribution of these gannets!
Walking further east, and closer to the cliff edge, revealed even more groupings.
What a spectacular sight!
I continued on towards Muckle Flugga, the jagged rock topped by an impressive lighthouse with the same name. Its builders, brothers Thomas and David Stevenson, initially refused to build a lighthouse here because of the dangerous seas and challenging topography. But the government insisted, as a lighthouse was needed to facilitate the safe passage of naval ships bound for the Crimean War. The brothers created a temporary lighthouse in 1854, 50 feet high and 200 feet above the sea, but winter storms brought waves high enough and powerful enough to knock down the iron door to the keepers’ rooms! The lighthouse that stands today was completed by the Stevensons in 1858, and for 134 years Muckle Flugga and was the most northerly inhabited isle in the U.K. until the lighthouse became automated in 1995.
Below is the closest image I could manage. Before leaving Canada for Shetland I had watched an episode of “The Secret Life of Lighthouses” (S3E2) about Muckle Flugga and the enormous efforts, bravery, and engineering skills that it took to build. You can find the episode on the Knowledge Network, at Knowledge.ca, if you would like to learn more.
Beyond Muckle Flugga, some 600 metres to the northeast, is Out Stack, or Oosta, which is officially the most northerly piece of land belonging to the British Isles. Lady Franklin, the wife of Sir John Franklin, landed on Out Stack in 1849 when her husband failed to return from his expedition to find the North West Passage. She looked to the north and prayed for her husband’s eventual safe return, but of course her prayer would never be answered.
I sat on the grass overlooking Muckle Flugga, had my lunch, and watched the sea here for a long time. This was my only planned outing for the day, the air had warmed, and I had plenty of time, so instead of climbing the hill to continue my walk I decided that I wanted to visit with the puffins some more. I love them! They are often called comical, but I find them elegant and composed,
beautiful, bright, and socially and emotionally intelligent! (Granted, my opinions are based on limited observational experience!)
After my time watching the puffins, I rejoined the path and started my climb up the hill. I turned near the top for a last view back to Muckle Flugga,
and then crested the hill where I saw the few remaining stones of the Signal Station that once stood in sight of the lighthouse. Before the use of radio, the Signal Station and Lighthouse communicated with each other by means of Semaphore with regards to issues like items needed, supply boat deliveries, issues at sea, and medical emergencies. I began the downhill walk with the long inlet of the Burra Firth to my left,
and soon reached a section of boardwalk which undulated across the moor of blanket bog, heather, cotton grass and sphagnum mosses.
The boardwalk went on, and on, and on!
As I walked I thought about the men who would make the journey up to and then back from the Signal House on foot, without the aid of this boardwalk. It would have been an arduous, wet and sometimes dangerous walk – a series of poles marked the way to keep the men from getting lost on days of rain and fog.
For me, on this fine day, it was a most wonderful walk. All along the return journey I heard Skylarks singing their incredibly long, complex, and elaborate songs, but I could never spot them in the grasses! Their calls were clear and bright and so pleasing to the ear – a fine accompaniment to my walk. I reached the very last section of the trail, now on gravel,
and soon reached my bicycle. I began the six mile cycle ride back to Baltasound and only made three brief stops on the way. The first was here, to photograph the golden beach at the end of the Burra Firth,
and the second was here, where the place names are obviously of Norse origin and the cows are definitely Scottish!
My third stop was at Bobby’s Bus Shelter which has become a rather famous photo stop on Unst. The shelter is named after Bobby Macaulay, a seven-year old who wrote a letter to the local council asking them not to remove the shelter, when they had plans to do so, because that’s where he stored his bike when he caught the bus to school. The shelter was saved and someone furnished it with a small couch, chair, and other household comforts. Each year, the shelter is redecorated with a theme. This year, the theme was Leap Year, with a focus on Animals That Leap. I perused the books about animals that leap, signed the Visitors Book, and deeply suspected the involvement of a teacher or librarian in the endeavour!
I returned to my lovely and comfortable bnb, microwaved an entree, (there are no restaurants or cafes at present in Baltasound), and spent a quiet evening in my room. It was a wonderful day at Hermaness, at the far northern tip of the British Isles!
