Inadvertent mini-cruise

Occasionally, in Winter, if I need to travel to Shetland for work, it pays to keep an eye on the weather forecast and the ferry company's operational news. If there's any possibility of the ferry not calling in at Kirkwall on the return journey, then I make my apologies to customers and re-arrange the trip for a more benign time. Up until last week, this approach has stood me in good stead. Are you detecting an iota of foreboding yet?

This Winter has been rather stormy so far, and doesn't look like kicking the habit any time soon. So, whilst Pentland Firth sailings were being delayed or cancelled and the timings of freight sailings between Lerwick and Aberdeen juggled to miss the worst of the weather, the passenger service twixt Aberdeen, Kirkwall and Lerwick seemed to escape all of the red ink normally associated with an Atlantic gale. How very odd, thought I, but if the ferry operator thinks tide times, wave height and wind speed are ok, then who am I to argue? After all, they don't try to tell me how to rewire a telephone master socket to improve broadband speed, or how to tell the difference between a Common Hawker and a Golden-ringed Dragonfly.

Repeated checking of 'Operational News' last Thursday confirmed that there wasn't a shred of doubt over the Kirkwall/Lerwick sailing nor the return trip, so I didn't feel that I could cancel the work just because the Met Office had written 60mph over most of their forecast.

Come eleven o'clock Thursday night, the ferry was running a little late, berthing in Kirkwall at twenty to midnight. However, we arrived in Lerwick on time at half seven on Friday morning after a moderately lumpy crossing. Most of Friday was then spent diagnosing and fixing problems to the east, west, north and south of Lerwick. The one wildlife highlight of the day was as I was leaving a customer's house, negotiating their entrance track, and seeing a flock of Fieldfares in an adjoining field. One bird was noticeable smaller, so I guessed it might be a Redwing. However, as I drew level with it and glanced sideways out of the car window, the bird turned to face me and I saw that there was no cream eye stripe or red under the wings, it was a Song Thrush. My first one for 2022.

I arrived back at the ferry terminal just in time to check-in for the return sailing. I had continued to check operational news through the day, just in case, but my concerns seemed misplaced. Once on board, after the captain's address and the usual safety briefing, I relaxed in the knowledge that contrary to the horror stories popping up on social media, this trip was going to be a breeze, albeit a breeze on steroids and probably several other performance-enhancing compounds as well.

Fifteen minutes later, the captain comes back over the tannoy to say that we may all have noticed that the ship hadn't moved yet, and that this was due to a technical problem. Three interminable hours later, the engines fired up and we were eventually underway, although the crossing was going to be rough and arrival time in Kirkwall would not be 11pm but 3am. The ensuing massed chorus of resigned sighs almost drowned out the howling wind. I set my alarm for 2am and tried to get some sleep.

[Lumpy sea, lumpy sea. lumpy sea]

At 1.30am the phone in the cabin rings, and my weary brain grapples with the fact we're 90 minutes from Kirkwall, so why's the phone ringing? An apologetic voice explains that it's too windy/wavy/whatever in Kirkwall, therefore we're going straight to Aberdeen instead, and shore-side staff there will assist with how all the Kirkwall passengers are returned to Orkney. 

I reset my alarm for 6am and continue trying to get some sleep.

[Lumpy sea, lumpy sea, lumpy sea]

At 7.45am on Saturday morning, I wasn't wholly convinced that the shore-side staff in Aberdeen had actually been informed of our predicament, but they valiantly rose to the challenge and booked displaced passengers on to that evening's north-bound sailing, although with the weather, who knew if it would sail? I hung around the ferry terminal until 10am, waiting for the latest update, which was partially good news. The ship would sail, at 5pm, but only berth in Kirkwall at 6am on Sunday morning, 31 hours later than normal.

So, what to do on a stormy day in Aberdeen? First port of call was breakfast, then a breezy wander around the centre of a city of which I had no knowledge. Cue homework... 

I wondered whether to try and and find some of the several parks, in the hope of a bit of mainland birding for species not found in Orkney, but to be honest, the wind was so strong that the only thing on the wing was countless pieces of litter. The skies were empty of birds.

Plan B... C... Plan D was to find the Art Gallery, as some respite from the gale, although getting there proved quite challenging. On one street corner, the gusts were so strong that standing up took all my effort. Approaching the gallery, I was stunned to see a large white plastic traffic barrier cartwheeling across a main road, before coming to a halt the correct way up against the opposite kerb. Could've been street theatre, I suppose?

Once inside the calm of the Art Gallery, I pootled around the various exhibition rooms, feeling impressed, bewildered, amused or confused, depending upon the art therein. The display for the 60th anniversary of the local Embroiderers' Guild was a good example.

Textile Tunnock's Teacakes

Wasn't expecting to see a damselfly during a Winter storm

Let alone loads of them

On a side note, I have been listening to indie-folk band Elephant Sessions of late

Whilst heading for the upper rooms, I came across these exhortations. A simple instruction for pandemic social distancing? Or a thought-provoking work, musing upon the materialistic and throwaway society we live in?

Taking to the streets once more, I stopped to marvel at the gothic architecture of Marischal College, at least until I noticed the cargo straps holding the tower ornamentation in place.

Oo, blossom!

Birdwise, there were now a few feral pigeons about, and at one road junction a Carrion Crow walking across the pavement (yes, another year tick for me). However, lunch beckoned. In the afternoon, I relented and actually went shopping, very briefly, before coming to my senses and heading back to check-in and board the ferry.

Whilst waiting to drive the car aboard, the ornithology produced a flurry of activity. Half a dozen Oystercatchers flew along the harbour and disappeared into the city centre, and then the telltale "Chiswick" call of a Pied Wagtail could be heard. Suddenly a whole flock of Pied Wagtails flew down to the quayside, a pre-roost gathering!

Once on board at 5pm, the captain informed the passengers that we wouldn't be sailing until 9pm, the reasoning being that the longer we delayed, the calmer the conditions would be. This obviously had a knock-on effect to the arrival time in Kirkwall, which was now going to be 7am Sunday.

[Lumpy sea, lumpy sea, lumpy sea]

Crivens, was I glad to get home!

There was a bit of a rush to complete this year's Big Garden Bird Watch before the weather closed in again, but we managed seven species. The only other wildlifey moment of the weekend was an informal stock take of all the cellar spiders in the house. For some unknown reason, there's only one. Where have all the others gone? Inside this one?!

There's another gale scheduled for tomorrow, 63mph gusts just after lunchtime. Deep joy.