Ch4: May 15th part 2

The cotton ball clouds above us are quickly taken over by the rain heavy covering coming up from the south, and the patchy sun is stolen as Ian parks the car. He takes my suitcase and I take the bags of clothes. We’re at the harbour. An island is across the water, not too far away. There’s lots of boats here, and all different kinds, from fishing boats to sailing boats to speed boats. There’s even a boat that looks like it came from Viking times. As Ian leads me up a pier to a motorboat, I see an old-fashioned boat sailing coming towards us between the islands. It’s got huge sails and towering masts. I decide I need to learn more about boats so I can name them.

The winds getting up, and I wonder if that big sailing boat is running away from the approaching storm. My hair whips about my face and I dig in a pocket for a hair bobble. Ian has put my bag in the boat, and as I take his hand and climb in, I see bags of groceries in the small compartment
down below.

As if reading my mind, Ian says, “My housekeeper got the shopping in. Saves time if I call ahead and get her to do it.”

With that, he starts the engine, unhooks all the ropes keeping the boat in place, and we’re off.

Fat raindrops begin to fall as Ian pushes the throttle forward and we speed between Mainland and the island Ian informs me is called Bressay. There’s a scattering of houses and steep cliffs and the rolling landscape like Mainland. As we pass the end of the island there’s a lighthouse nestled at the
bottom of the cliff, the light blinking at us.

By now I have the rain coat and waterproof trousers on, and I’ve thanked Ian for them too many times as he threatens to throw them overboard if I thank him one more time. We head for his island, Vanir. As we speed over an increasingly rough sea it grows on the horizon.

“That’s Mousa over there.” Ian points to an island beyond his. It looks not much bigger than a dot. Mainland is a comforting presence to our right. Sea birds gather, maybe they think we have food. I watch them play on the gusting wind, Ian ignores them.

The waves grow even bigger, white caps making way for a frothy angry sea that shoves the boat about. Feeling a bit sick I sit at the back and watch Lerwick and Bressay grow smaller. When my holiday is over on Vanir, I want to explore Lerwick, and I hope Ian will let me before whisking me back to Aberdeen. It looks amazing, with grey stone buildings that dominate the harbour, rising with the hill in an impressive show. I wonder what the rest of Shetland has to offer.

Little dark grey lumps are bobbing around in the water near to Vanir as we approach.

“They’re common seals. Noisy buggers. If you can’t sleep because of them, I apologise in advance.” Ian grins back at me, his blonde hair blown back and his face pink from the wind and rain. He looks like he’d be more at home with a surfboard on a warm beach than here on Shetland.

“Seals, wow, I’ve never seen one in the wild.”

“Well, be prepared to have an overdose.” Ian slows the boat and aims it in the direction of Vanir’s little harbour. It’s on the west side of the island, and the water is far less rough, the weather is coming from the southeast now, and the hill on the other side of the island seems to be protecting it. Around the harbour are four ruins, cottages, I guess. Behind them, up the hill a little, is an intact cottage, and my guess is that’s where I’ll be staying.

Like the houses in Lerwick, it’s made of grey stone – Ian tells me it’s granite that comes from Mainland and most things are built from it. He brings the boat expertly in and I gratefully climb out. My legs are a bit wobbly and I’m proud that I made it here without being sick.

Ian hands out the bags of shopping and my suitcase and handbag. Together we carry the things through the driving rain and into the relative shelter between the ruins. The short walk to the cottage is steep and I find myself out of breath as Ian opens the door and lets me in.

“You don’t keep it locked?”

Ian shrugs. “It’s my island. Everyone knows it and no one but me and my guests come here. Why would it need to be locked?”

I marvel at the safety of the place I have found myself as Ian takes the groceries from me and starts to put them away in the kitchen area.

“Have a look around. There’s not much to see. With the weather like it is, we can’t leave until tomorrow if you don’t want to stay, so make the most of your time.”

There are only two main rooms, both are small. The back one has a double bed against one wall and an ancient looking chest of draws and matching wardrobe on either side of the window that looks out on the little bay. The living area has a lumpy sofa that smells of damp place in front of a fireplace and behind is a worktop and a few cabinets that make up the kitchen. There’s a small aga stove and a door to the right with a larder and a door to the left with a small shower room. Both the living area and the bathroom also have small windows looking out towards Ian’s boat and Mainland beyond.

“The aga give you hot water, it’s fuelled by coal. There’s a sack in the boat you need to help me with later. He glances out the window at the clouds. The sky looks dirty all the way to the horizon. “For the fire best thing is to walk the beaches and gather firewood after a storm. There’s a store of it behind the cottage, but you’ll need to keep replenishing it.”

He opens the door to the larder and I peek inside. I’ve already noticed there’s no fridge. He put’s butter and cheese on one of the sparkly stone shelves.

“This is how the kept food cold before electricity.” Ian beams at me as I frown. “The stone is heavy in quartz, which naturally takes the heat out of things. Touch it.”

I do, and am surprised how quickly my hand is cold. “That really works!”

“It’ll keep these things fresh for you over the next couple of weeks.”

As I look more around the cottage, I notice that there’s a couple of lamps. I flick a switch on the wall and am surprised when they blink on. “How do you get electric here?”

“I had a wind turbine installed a few years ago. It’s on the south side of the island. There is an electric water heater, but the damn turbine isn’t the most reliable. That’s why I prefer to use the aga for heating.”

I plonk down on the sofa and for a moment marvel at how quiet, how serene the atmosphere is. The view outside is impressive. The house sits in the lee of the hill, and the wind hardly seems to bother the cottage, but I can see the boat rocking up and down in an angry surf. The walls of the ruins are running with water and the rain comes across my viewpoint almost horizontal. The longer I stare, the more I realise the sky isn’t one big swath of grey. It’s undulating in shades from stony grey to battleship grey to the darkest blues and purples. There’s a big smile on my face as I turn to Ian. “I love it here.”

He smiles at me, but his eyes betray a distraction I’m unsure of. He’s on his knees, feeding the aga with coal. “I do too. My favourite place in the world.”

A shiver runs through me, and for a moment I wonder if I made a mistake coming here, to a remote island, with a stranger. Then I remember Chris and why I’ve made the journey. The motion of the sea and the clouds seem to hypnotise me, and as the cottage is warmed by the aga, Ian busies himself putting together a late lunch. I curl up so all I can see is the sky. It reminds me of my mind over this past year, unsettled and stormy. The sky will clear and the sun will come out, and that’s exactly what I need to concentrate on over the next couple of weeks. I snuggle into a blanket and forget any uncertainty. The wild beauty of Shetland has taken me captive.