The iconic Sumburgh Head Foghorn which formerly protected Shetland seafarers, is still sounded twice a year to mark the opening and closing of the visitor centre. It's a sound that delights the crowds as much as it resonates through the ages.
A lone sea pink bloomed, its delicate pink unexpected in a landscape of gold and brown. Other flowers by the rocky shore faded long ago, dried petals now transparent, borrowed light from the setting sun, gilded in a final display of radiance. At the water’s edge a heron stood while a flock of geese passed noisily overhead.
The season is turning, and autumn has arrived in Shetland.
Early signs of seasonal change are often intangible, shifting patterns of light, a new restlessness in the wind, that it somehow just ‘feels’ more autumnal. But other events are more concrete like the equinox or the closing of Sumburgh Head visitor centre.
I spend a lot of time at Sumburgh Head during the summer, regularly taking my children and tour groups to enjoy the seabird spectacle. Although the puffins may be the first attraction, the buildings and history are remarkable.
The lighthouse was Shetland’s first Stevenson lighthouse built in 1821 and from 1906 the foghorn warned sailors of dangerous rocks when visibility was poor. Detailed displays bring this history to life, telling stories of the lighthouse keepers, and the area’s role during World War Two.
At season’s open and close, the foghorn is sounded.
These days are highlights of my bairns’ year and we haven’t missed one yet. Rohan, my older boy, wants to be an engineer and loves the old machinery. Stories of how inventions like lighthouses and foghorns shaped and saved lives, affecting folk on land and sea, always fascinate him. Finn, my younger boy, especially enjoys the displays featuring the wildlife and ecology of the area.
As we headed to Sumburgh Head for the ‘autumn blast’, they ran ahead up the winding path towards the lighthouse, urging me to go faster, worried we would miss it as I kept stopping to take photos.
Sun shone through opaque clouds, and a strong breeze brought white horses charging towards shore, breaking against cliffs whose jagged forms, bleakly beautiful in their emptiness, were so very different to how they appear in summer when the same stone, circled by calm seas and home to thousands of birds, seems softer. The same landscape, so very different through the seasons.
At midday we waited in the engine room as machines began their noisy awakening. When the dial on the pressure gauge rose higher, we all ran outside to hear the first blast of the horn.
Everyone cheered as the sound, which would once have been a familiar part of the coastal soundscape, filled the air once more. The bairns were delighted, running between engine room and the grass in front of the foghorn. Before long they had joined some others their age in a wild game of catchy.
After a last look at the exhibits, we were preparing to leave when somebody said there were orca just around the corner, heading our way. We gathered with a small group by the cliff edge and waited. Soon they came past, close enough to see the details in their markings, we could hear them breathe. When they were out of sight we got in the car and followed, hoping to get another glimpse of them.
If you'd like to know more about the fascinating Sumburgh Head Lighthouse, visitor centre and nature reserve, or some of the nearby attractions in Shetland's beautiful South Mainland, click on the links below.
