April on Shetland


Summer at Spiggie?
Over the last few years I’ve been on Shetland in every month of the year, with the exception of April.  This year I’ve had the chance to remedy this.

In most parts of the country April is a time of changeable weather and Shetland is no exception, indeed it could be justifiably said that April on Shetland is no different, in terms of changeability of weather, to any other month here.  Over the last few days I’ve seen hail, rain, gale force winds, and bright sunshine, in temperatures from below freezing through to ‘shirt-sleeves’ warm.

April on Shetland marks the transition from winter to summer – this is seen through the light, the boats in the harbours and most of the all the bird life.

Clouds clearing from Fitful Head
Light.  Once we get past the spring equinox, the days are longer further north than they are down south.  Already (by 21st April), we’ve got to dawn at 5:30 and sunset at 20:40, but it feels like there is more light than this.  It’s already bright daylight like when I first wake in the morning – it’s hard to turn over and go back to sleep when the light is streaming in.  There is still light in the skies to the west at 22:00.  It’s only just got to “Simmer Dim” (the four month long Shetland summer season), but it already feels later in the year than it is.

Statsraad Lehmkuhl at Victoria Pier
Boats.  April marks the start of the summer ‘cruise ship’ season.  This was kicked off by the arrival in Lerwick this week of the sail training ship the “Statsraad Lehmkuhl” from Bergen.  There are scheduled to be over 40 cruise ships turning up in Shetland over the next four months.   Many will be much larger than the Statsraad Lehmkuhl, and most will have many more passengers, but few will be more evocative.  There is something timeless about coming down onto the Esplanade in Lerwick and seeing (and hearing) a tall ship tied up on Victoria Pier.  It’s a long time since this was a routine sight in Lerwick, but the masts between the old buildings seem to give a brief glimpse into the past.  Elsewhere, and in other days, in the harbour are the more normal working boats that reflect 21st Century life on Shetland.
Old Town - Lerwick
21st Century Shetland
Ready for Summer - at Sumburgh Head
Birds.  Just as I arrived on Shetland in early April, so did the puffins.  During April the cliffs, hillsides and skies of Shetland are filled with returning bird life. Every field seems to have a crowd of oystercatchers in it.  Every cliff is covered by fulmars. Or perhaps I should be using the Shetland names.  Every field seems to have a crowd of shalders, and every cliff a covering of maalies.  This being the 21st Century, my twitter stream is also littered with announcements that the summer visitors are returning.  The puffins (tammie nories) get most attention, even getting either own webcams.  Elsewhere the returning swallows (who don’t seem to have acquired a local Shetland name) and arctic terns (tirricks) are starting to appear, along with the great skuas (bonxies) and red-throated divers (raingeese).  As I’ve explored the cliffs, headlands, harbours and lochs at the southern end of Shetland, I’ve also seen (in their breeding finery), swaabies, scarfs, dunters, lungwies, tysties, solan, staneshakkers and rippack maas amongst others. (For reference these would be, in order, greater black-backed gulls, shags, eider, guillemots, black guillemots, gannets, wheatears and kittiwakes).
Brambling at Sumburgh Head

First Swallow at Quendale Beach

April is the time when everything kicks off for the summer season on Shetland. On good days the clouds will just bubble away leaving the cliffs clear. And if on the other days the weather looks bleak, just wait a couple of hours. The weather is sure to change.  And the final sign that it really must be spring on Shetland - the fence gets a fresh coat of paint.


And there is also a Flickr set with some of these, and some other images taken this month around the southern end of Shetland.

Market Survey

And in my "Keep In Touch" postcard give away yesterday, the two most popular images were

Fin Whale Balance on Svalbard
Kings on the March on South Georgia


Better get some more of these ones printed.

Sun-kissed Beaches - a competition

There appear to a number of rumours circulating that I don't do sun-kissed beaches.

Evidence to the contrary follows. And a competition.

Destination A

Destination B

Destination C

Destination D

Destination E

Destination F
This first person to name the six destinations (put the destinations in order plus an email address as a comment below) gets a framed print of the beach of their choice.

Favourite Places, Favourite Posts

A few people have asked recently about my favourite – or most memorable - trips over the last few years.

From the far North
















From the far South


























If you're just looking for some photographs - there are lots on Flickr


North

South 


Plan B


Just occasionally I feel the need to write a post that will wind up both on here, my travel and photography blog, and also on my e-learning blog.  The last time I did this was in September 2011 when I was about to temporarily hang up my e-learning shoes to go and spend a bit more time carrying a camera out in the wilds.

After spending most of the last 17 years around the Open University, and the last 7 years leading the Learning Systems team at the OU, I have decided that now is time to make some changes.

I’m going to be leaving the OU at the end of March, to look for interesting new things do. 

A number of people already know that I’m going to leave, and the most common question I’ve been asked is “What are you going to do?”.   My stock answer is that “I’ve got lots of ideas, but no firm plans”.

I’m certainly intending to try and achieve a better work-life balance, or perhaps more critically a better desk-wilderness balance.  During my six months away I was able to spend a lot of time outdoors – mostly in cold, bleak places – and I do want to find ways of continuing to do that for rather more of the year than is possible even with the generous annual leave allocation I’ve been getting at the OU.

I do still want to be involved in using web technologies to transform education.  I’ve been fortunate in being able to contribute to a large number of interesting educational technology projects over the last ten years and I’m keen to continue to make use of that experience.

I’ve also talked with lots of people about travel and photography in the far North and the far South, and I’m keen to continue to do that.  I also want to help people make better use of the cameras they’re carrying and to add to my own photographic portfolio.

So, if I you think I might be able help you do e-learning or educational technology projects better, do get in touch.  Or if you want to hear more about some of the places I’ve been to or think I can contribute to projects in cold and/or remote places, get in touch. 

Anything interesting considered.  Well, as long as it’s legal.

Reaching the Tiger’s Nest

 Ross Mackenzie heads to the eastern end of the Himalayas to visit the real Shangri La

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“Not much further now."  Sonam was always encouraging.  "Just keep going.”

We were slowly climbing through the trees towards the Taktshang Goemba, the Tiger’s Nest.  Every few minutes we got a tantalising glimpse of the glistening white temple clinging to a sheer cliff-face high above.

The Taktshang monastery is over 10,000 feet above sea level at the eastern end of the Himalayas in the isolated Kingdom of Bhutan.  While Nepal was becoming a standard fixture on the 1960s hippy trail around the Indian sub-continent, Bhutan remain aloof.  For many years it was impossible to get permission to visit Bhutan, and even now tourism is tightly controlled.  Bhutan still isn’t open to independent travellers, but does now welcome small groups of tourists provided they are looked after by a local guide.

Our escort was Sonam.  A quiet softly-spoken young man from the Trashigang District at the eastern end of Bhutan, always keen that we understood both the history of Bhutan and what it means to live in a Buddhist country.   His patience in retelling stories about each temple was endless, and when he spotted the bird guidebook we were carrying his eyes lit up and after that he came to life whenever there was an unusual bird to point out to us.

Like almost every tourist visiting Bhutan we arrived on Druk Air – the only airline regularly flying into the country.  Other airlines keep away from a final approach that weaves through steep wooded slopes to the short high-altitude runway at Paro, perhaps not quite believing the assurance in the in-flight magazine that the ‘mountains aren’t as close as they appear’. 

Bhutan’s self-enforced isolation has allowed it to retain customs and traditions found in few other countries.  It is the last of the Asian Buddhist kingdoms, but even here there is some change.  Ten years ago the country was still ruled by an absolute, if benign, monarch.   It is now a constitutional monarchy, albeit one still adhering to Buddhist principles.  Every new government policy is examined in terms of how it will improve the Gross National Happiness of the people. 

The isolation has also ensured the development of characteristic architecture, the retention of archery as the national sport, and perhaps most surprisingly the presence of chili as a key element of the Bhutanese diet. The signature dish on most menus is the innocuous-looking ema datse, a cheese sauce hiding a very generous helping of chili peppers.

The most obvious landmarks in Bhutan are the dzongs which stand over the fields in the lush green valleys.  The fortress-like dzongs with their orange and white walls, high wood-roofed watch-towers and enclosed courtyards are both monasteries and office buildings.  And outside every office you’ll see men in their traditional knee-length checkered gho with, on formal occasions, a pale sash slung over the left shoulder – the Bhutanese ‘jacket and tie’.

Any trip to Bhutan is going to include numerous visits to monasteries and at least a little bit of trekking. For many visitors the high point of their stay is combining the two by climbing to the Tiger’s Nest, Bhutan's ‘must-do’ attraction.  In most countries this would guarantee hoards of people and souvenir sellers. Not in Bhutan.  The trek up to Bhutan’s ‘must-do’ site is carefully protected – requiring locals to wear national dress when they visit.

In legend, privileged visitors get to soar to the monastery on the back of a flying tiger.  We, like most others, needed to struggle up the path from the valley.

Just ten minutes from the start, a gap in the trees gives us our first encouragement in a glimpse of the brightly sun-lit temple nearly 2000 feet above.  And back along the valley below a checker-board of farms, houses, temples and of course dzongs. 

Along the pathway I was thankful to find rest-stops offering soft drinks and Bhutanese tea, and yet more grateful to meet an old man immaculately dressed in an orange gho proffering a walking stick to help me carry on up through the increasingly thin air. 

Further along the path, prayer wheels appear festooned with strings of red, yellow, green, white and blue prayer flags.  These provide prayer stops to let the faithful to ask for help in completing the climb, and give the gasping tourist another perfect excuse to rest and take photographs.

Finally, after a little more encouragement from Sonam, we reached a rocky outcrop providing an eye-level view across to the monastery clinging improbably onto the rock, in legend attached to the cliff-face by the hairs of angels.  A rainbow of prayer flags shaded the steps down into a deep chasm, holding a sparkling waterfall and the peaceful Snow Lion Cave – still used as a meditation retreat – before we climbed to the gates into the welcome shade of the monastery.

The red-clad monks welcomed us into the complex,  each ready to tell us the story of the monastery and the people who’ve lived here over its 400-years.  The buildings guard the entry to a cluster of sacred caves and grottos in the cliff face each dedicated to a famous figure or story in Bhutanese mythology.  Away from the caves, we spend a peaceful few minutes listening to the winds whistling through the balconies of the monastery with the soft chants of the monks in the background, before retracing our steps back past the still-spinning prayer wheels towards the valley floor. 

Our visit to the Taktshang Goemba, like most other experiences in Bhutan, has improved our Gross Happiness and we’ve earned a dish of ema datse, and maybe a bottle or two of Red Panda, Bhutan’s local beer.

Is Bhutan really Shangri-La?  There are lots of hidden valleys tucked away in the Himalayas claiming the Shangri-La tag.  For me the grandeur of the Bhutanese landscape and the welcoming generosity of the Bhutanese people make it a very strong contender.

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Ross travelled to Bhutan with Cox and King's, flying from London to Kathmandu via Delhi with Jet Airways, and to Paro with Druk Air.  The local ground arrangements were provided by Blue Poppy Bhutan, and the itinerary included Thimphu, Paro, Trongsa, Punakha and the Bumthang Valley.

Polar Fever

Ross Mackenzie has been talking to himself again…

So when did the malady first appear?
The first evidence of an outbreak of polar fever was when I was at school.  I felt drawn to do projects on exploration and science in the Antarctic. Fortunately the symptoms seem to have been at least temporarily calmed by an intense application of books and visits to libraries.

And the first recurrence?
Was when I was finishing a physics degree.  I got as far as filling out the paperwork to join the British Antarctic Survey, but for reasons that escape me now, it seemed like a good idea to volunteer to spend three years sitting in small dark rooms at Bristol University rather than overwintering in small dark rooms in the Antarctic.

Did that get it out of your system?
It certainly seemed to have done, until late 2006.  I’d been doing quite a lot of travelling to hot places and there seemed to be a reaction, initially appearing as an urge to drive north at the slightest provocation.  I once got as far as the Arctic Circle before I was able to turn the car round.  My first attempt to properly address the problem by visiting was to book a trip on the MS Nordkapp from Ushuaia down to the Antarctic Peninsula in early 2007.  That plan ran aground, as did the Nordkapp, and my trip was cancelled at short notice.

So, what did that do to the symptoms?
Made them much worse.  After consultation, my travel agent agreed that there was no alternative therapy other than to arrange treatment in both the Arctic and Antarctic as a matter of urgency.  So in summer 2007 I flew north to Greenland to see icebergs, and in autumn south to Ushuaia to attempt to see real ice.  Of course that southern trip wasn’t without tensions.  The fear, and the fever, that my first peninsula trip would be pulled away again was triggered by getting the news, as I waited to fly south from Santiago to Ushuaia, that another polar ship (this time the MS Explorer) had foundered in the Bransfield strait just north of the peninsula.

That must have been a bit scary?
Not as scary for me and my fellow travellers as for the passengers and crew on the Explorer.  They were all rescued, and we paid much more attention in the safety briefing than we might have done otherwise.

And was the trip worthwhile?
Absolutely.  The polar fever symptoms cleared completely as we crossed the Drake Passage, and the first penguins came into view. 

So, did that get it out of your system?
Um, No.  I think the symptoms came back as the boat lurched back across the Drake Passage heading northwards.

I suppose the next fix was to see if going all the way North sorted the problem.
Yes, that was right.  Although I did experiment by visiting the Falkland Island to see if they were remote enough to calm the symptoms, before going to northern Norway and then to Svalbard in 2010 to see if polar bears were sufficient to chase the symptoms away.  Again the relief of symptoms was only temporary.

What were you left with as the next remedy?
I tried another course of intensive travel going all the way to South Georgia, not quite Antarctica but well inside the Antarctic Convergence, then quickly up to the real Nordkapp (as opposed to the ship) at the northern tip of Norway.  Again the relief from the urge to be in polar places was temporary.

Have you given up trying to find a cure?
Absolutely not.  I haven’t tried going to the Northwest Passage yet. So that’s the next course of treatment.  But I’m not optimistic that even that will cure me, so I’ve already started planning for another southern remedy.

Have you considered hypnotherapy rather than air miles?
No.