It seemed like I'd spent half my life in an airplane when I finally landed at Sumburgh Airport in Shetland Islands. My trip started on a cold, rainy, January morning in Nashville, Tennessee. From there I'd changed planes three times and spent a little more than twenty-four hours in the air or waiting for my next flight. By the time the small plane left Aberdeen airport, I was thinking how I was going to thank my boss for sending me to Lerwick in January. I'd narrowed my choices down to either a hard kick in his fat ass or pissing on his desk.
I knew I'd do neither when I got back. Both were just the rambling of a mind addled by almost no sleep, bad food, and cramped seating. Besides, either would get me fired.
At least the rental car was nice. Half an hour after claiming my bags, I was sitting in an almost new VW Passat and driving up A970 toward Lerwick and the Lerwick Hotel. It wasn't as cold as I'd imagined it would be. The radio said it was four Celcius. My mental calculation told me that was about 40 Fahrenheit. It was only a couple degrees warmer than that when I left Nashville.
It was Monday afternoon about two when I checked in, and I didn't have to be anywhere until Wednesday morning, but I'd traveled enough to know sleeping was the worst thing I could do. If I slept then, I'd be awake half the night, and sleepy again the next afternoon. Instead, I put my clothes away and took a walk down to the beach that was just behind the hotel.
It really wasn't a beach, at least not like any other beach I'd seen before. There was no sand, just gray-black rock that sloped down to the water. There was what appeared to be a walking path, though, so I continued my walk.
It was relaxing, actually. There were the same wave sounds I'd heard at other beaches, and here and there a bird kind of like the seagulls back home screeched as it flew past. There were several around, but they were bigger than seagulls and were brown instead of white. Floating in the gentle waves were ducks of some kind. Every once in a while, one of them would dive down in the water and stay down for what seemed like forever.
I almost didn't see her at first. Her jacket was about the same color as the rocks, and she had her face turned away from me. She sort of blended in to the surrounding rock.
I don't like scaring people, especially women, and this one didn't seem to know I was there. I coughed in order to make some noise that she could hear over the sound of the surf.
She turned and smiled.
"Hello"
She was an older woman, well, some people would have called her older. I thought she looked about my age, at least her face had the character I'd always associated with women my age. The rest of her, what I could see anyway, didn't. Short, light brown hair framed a pretty face, and she was definitely slender.
I smiled back.
"Hi."
She grinned.
"I think you're not from Shetland, are you?"
"No, I'm from Tennessee... in the US."
"I see. You're watching the bonxie's and divers. Are you a birder?"
"I'm not sure what a birder is, but I'm just trying to stay awake after my flight. I thought they were gulls and ducks."
She smiled again.
"Your gulls are skuas. We call them bonxies. The ducks are red throated divers. What brings you to Lerwick In January? Most tourists come in summer."
"My job. My company is bidding on some equipment for one of your wind farms. I have meetings with them on Wednesday and Thursday of this week."
"You'll have some time to look around then."
"I do, but I'm not sure what there is to see. I read about a castle and some old ruins. I don't have to leave until Saturday, so I thought I'd see them."
The woman rose to her feet and dusted off her round, shapely bottom.
"Will you be going to Up Helly Aa? That's why I'm here."
I grinned.
"If I knew what that was I could probably tell you."
She smiled.
"Oh, you simply must go. It's great fun, though it would probably seem a bit odd to you. Up Helly Aa is a celebration that goes back to when the people here were Norse. It's a fun time. I come every year. There are parties after the celebration, and I'm staying here, at the Lerwick, so I don't have to drive afterwards. It's tomorrow night, if you might be interested."
It was one of those things you say that you really hadn't planned on saying, but that seems to pop out of your mouth on it's own.
"I would, but I don't know my way around. I'm staying at the Lerwick too. Could...could you show me?"
She put her hand on her chest.
"My, I haven't been asked out in a very long time. I'll have to think about that."
I grinned.
"I also hate eating alone. Would you have dinner with me tonight and tell me about it?"
She grinned.
"Are you Americans always so forward? You don't even know my name, and you've asked me out...twice."
"No, not usually. I just want some company, and you're the only person in Lerwick I know."
She laughed.
"Ten minutes isn't what I'd say is knowing someone, but yes, I'll have dinner with you. I'm Helen, and you are?"
"Tom, Tom Hastings."
She held out a slender hand with soft, slender fingers.
"I'm pleased to meet you Tom. Where are we dining tonight?"
The restaurant in the hotel seemed to be a nice place. I met Helen there at six. She'd changed into a svelt, black dress, black stockings and low heels. I was right about her being slender, though the hips that made the dress sway were very female. Her bust wasn't very big, but that didn't detract from the pretty woman who smiled and took my arm.
Most of the menu was a complete mystery to me. After looking at it, I chuckled.
"I have no idea what to order. What's a balantine, or a darne, or black pudding?
Helen grinned.
"You being an American, you might just want to order the hot fish platter."
"No, I want to sample the local food. I always do that when I'm traveling. What are you having?
Helen ran her finger down the menu.
"I'm having...I'm having the Darne of Salmon, I believe, and the cullen skink as a starter."
"Then I'll trust you and have the same. I have no idea what a cullen skink is though."
The meal was great. So was Helen's company. After the waitress cleared our table, I ordered coffee, and at Helen's suggestion, asked the waitress for Gaelic. The familiar earthy, smoky taste of really good scotch flowed into my mouth with the first sip. Helen sipped hers, and then explained Up Helly Aa.
"It's a traditional mid-winter celebration. A group of volunteers build a replica of an old Norse longboat, like you've probably seen in the cinema. Several other groups dress up in costume, and at night, pull the boat through the city streets. Others carry torches to light the way. They pull it to an open place, and we sing a Norse song. Then, they throw the torches into the boat and burn it. When the flames are burning high, we sing a song called "The Norseman's Home".
"After that, the parties begin. All over the city, there will be parties in church basements, the recreation hall, any place that is large enough. The groups who pulled the boat and carried the torches will come to each one and do a skit or sing or dance. It's great fun."
"I'd like to see that then. Would you go with me?"
I walked Helen to her room, and then turned in for the night. We were to meet at the hotel restaurant at six again the next night, and after eating, Helen said we'd follow the procession as the longboat was pulled through the streets.
I slept until almost noon, and was starving when I woke up. The restaurant served lunch, so I went there. I wasn't sure what haggis tattie skins would taste like, but I'd always heard about haggis. It tasted pretty good, though I couldn't identify some of the meats which was probably for the best. The rest of the afternoon, I just rested. I wasn't sure how long the celebration and parties would take, and I wanted to be awake to experience it all.
At six, I walked to the restaurant and saw Helen waiting on me. Her dress that night was blue, her stockings again black, and her shoes, low black heels. For the first time in my life, I sampled black pudding, and for the first time in a long time, I found myself wondering if a woman, Helen to be exact would...but no, she seemed pretty prim and proper.
The procession was awesome, unlike anything I'd ever seen in the US. At least a thousand men in Viking costumes walked beside and behind the longboat as it was pulled through the city streets. They carried lit torches that streamed sparks of fire in the breeze of the night. The streets were lined with several thousand more men, women, and children cheering the men along.
The long boat reached a strip of bare earth near the water, and the torch bearers circled it as the crowd gathered around. There were three "hip-hip-horrays" for the people who built the boat, the people who carried the torches, and for the man I assumed to be the honorary leader. Then, the small brass band that had led the procession began to play again. The song wasn't one I recognized, but everyone in the crowd did, including Helen. It was a lively song about Vikings and their bravery.
I suppose there was some sort of signal at the end of the song, but I didn't hear it. All I saw was scores of torches arcing through the air to land on the ship.
The blaze started slowly, then grew into a bonfire. The crowd was cheering until the brass band began to play again. Then, they all joined in singing another song, but this was different. The song was slower, and so many people sang, their voices nearly drowned out the band.
This singing wasn't the joyful singing of before. It was almost reverent, and with so many voices blending into one, the sound was much like a choir in a huge cathedral. I looked at Helen. She was singing with everyone else. She blinked and a tear ran down her cheek, then two down the other cheek.
After the last words -- "Then let us all in harmony, give honor to the brave, the noble, hardy, northern men who ruled the storming wave", fireworks began exploding in a burst of colors and patterns overhead. Helen wiped her cheeks, then turned to me and smiled.
"Now is when the party begins. Let's walk over to the Leisure Complex. I know the hostess there."
We stayed through two glasses of ale each during which about ten different groups in costume performed for us. Some sang, some danced, and there were a couple of skits that were pretty funny.
After the last group had been duly applauded and toasted, Helen tapped on my arm.
"This will go on all night, but I'd like to go back to the hotel if you don't mind."
As soon as we were outside the building, Helen took my arm, and we walked in silence for a while. After we crossed an intersection, she asked what I thought about Up Helle Aa. I couldn't tell her enough.
"It was fascinating. I hope you realize what you have in your heritage. American heritage only goes back a couple hundred years, and we're such a mix of cultures no single one really stands out. Yours goes back since before writing. I think you're very proud of that. I saw you crying during the last song."
"Yes, I am. I always cry when I sing that song, even if I'm not at Up Helle Aa. I don't know why, really, but it makes me very emotional."
We made small talk until we reached the hotel. I walked Helen to her room. She turned and looked into my eyes and smiled.
"Thank you for taking me tonight. Up Helle Aa is always better with someone else."
I chuckled.
"I'm the one who should be thanking you, Helen. I'd have been in the hotel the whole night if you hadn't told me about it and showed me around."
Helen smiled and squeezed my hand.
