{"id":1465,"date":"2020-04-30T10:54:02","date_gmt":"2020-04-30T10:54:02","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/oliverberry.com\/?p=1465"},"modified":"2023-11-27T08:24:52","modified_gmt":"2023-11-27T08:24:52","slug":"a-journey-to-fair-isle","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/oliverberry.com\/writing\/a-journey-to-fair-isle\/","title":{"rendered":"A journey to Fair Isle"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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How to knit a jumper\u2026and other life-lessons from Fair Isle, Britain\u2019s remotest island <\/em><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Fog. Fog overhead. Fog to aft, stern, port, starboard. Fog as thick as a storm cloud. Underfoot, the deck of the Good Shepherd IV<\/em> yaws and pitches, and curtains of spray fly up as the boat ploughs through the swell. There\u2019s no sign of land, no horizon for bearings, and yet according to a green blip on the ship\u2019s navigation screen, out there in the gloom is an island: a shard of rock, 3 miles long and 1\u00bd miles wide, the remotest inhabited island in the British Isles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Fair Isle. Maybe you recognise the name from late nights listening to the Shipping Forecast on Radio 4. If not, you\u2019ll know it for its knitting pattern, as featured on countless golf socks, winter scarves and Christmas jumpers. Or, if you\u2019re a twitcher, you might know it for its birdlife. But if you had to pinpoint it on a map, you\u2019d probably struggle: is it off the coast of Ireland, you\u2019d wonder? In the North Sea? A Scilly Isle, perhaps? One of the Outer Hebrides?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In fact, Fair Isle is north: way north. Shetland is 24 miles away; Orkney 27. When the weather\u2019s good, it\u2019s a twenty-minute flight from Shetland, or a choppy two-hour crossing aboard the Good Shepherd IV; <\/em>but when it\u2019s bad, Fair Isle can be cut off for days, a week, sometimes longer. Wi-fi is slow; mobile signal non-existent. Until 2018, the electricity supply shut off between 11pm and 7am until two wind turbines finally brought the island 24-hour power. And apart from the bird observatory (which doubles as Fair Isle\u2019s hostel-cum-hotel), a shop, a little school, a couple of lighthouses and a handful of crofts, the island is empty \u2013 an outcrop of rock where sheep and seabirds outnumber humans by several thousand to one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But for all its remoteness, Fair Isle seems to exert a peculiar hold over the people who come here. Around a thousand tourists visit every year, but a surprising number are repeat visitors. And though its population is barely a tenth of what it was a century ago, on the rare occasion a croft on Fair Isle becomes available, the National Trust for Scotland (who have owned the island since 1955) can be assured of receiving hundreds of applications for the vacancy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So as I step down off the Good Shepherd IV<\/em>\u2019s gunwale onto the island\u2019s granite quayside, wobbling like a drunkard as I rediscover my land-legs, I find myself wondering what it is that draws people to this wild, isolated island \u2013 and why, for some reason, some of them decide to stay for good.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Skipper<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

As the islanders mill around the quayside, greeting friends and unloading cargo, Ian Best gets ready to haul the Good Shepherd IV<\/em> into dry-dock. \u2018It was a wee bit hairy coming in, eh?\u2019 he laughs, sipping a mug of freshly-brewed tea. \u2018Fair Isle is like that sometimes. There\u2019s only one way to know what the weather\u2019s doing, and that\u2019s to look out the window. You never take things for granted here.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Born and bred on Fair Isle, a boat-builder by training, Ian has arguably the most vital role on the island: captaincy of the Good Shepherd IV<\/em>. The majority of Fair Isle\u2019s supplies still arrive by sea, and while she\u2019s not much to look at \u2013 built for endurance rather than elegance \u2013 the boat is a lifeline for the islanders.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018We\u2019ve carried some weird cargo, that\u2019s for sure,\u2019 he says, patting the boat\u2019s hull. \u2018Last week we had a Morgan sports car. A few months back we brought over the blades for the new wind turbines. And a few times a year, we take sheep over to the livestock market on Shetland. The deck\u2019s packed solid with them!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He drains his tea, then trudges up to the winch-house, hollering instructions to his deckhands, Kenny Stout and Deryk Shaw. With a rumble of gears and a squeal of metal, the Good Shepherd IV <\/em>creeps out of the water into her berth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A gust of sudden wind ruffles his hair, and whips a vapour of spray off the water. \u201cLooks like there\u2019s a blow brewing,\u2019 Ian says, eyeing the steel-grey sky. \u2018But as long as the Shepherd\u2019s<\/em> tucked up safe, at least I\u2019ll get a good night\u2019s sleep!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

With a farewell salute, he jumps into his van and heads home. For Ian, and the Good Shepherd<\/em>\u2019s crew, a few days off-duty beckon – but before long, they\u2019ll be out at sea again, whatever the weather has in store.<\/p>\n\n\n\n