25/8 Shetland ride and Claire White live

I haven’t even taken a seat for breakfast yet when I’m already pulled into the first conversation. A German couple—this time not Swiss—approaches me about the AWO and we chat for a while, standing, about travel. Afterwards, over coffee and toast, I start thinking about how I’ll shape the day. While I’m musing to myself, I hear behind me a dialect that’s become all too familiar. Ah, so it’s Swiss again, and we get into an animated discussion about what fascinates us humans about foreign lands and the memories of them that we love to savor for a long time. We’ve already overrun breakfast by an hour when we decide to get even more out of the day. Just then I get an email from Colin saying that at 2 p.m. in Lerwick a ride by the local motorbike enthusiasts is taking place. Okay, that means the hiking day is cancelled. I make my way into Lerwick and, of course, I’m the eye‑catcher with the AWO. On the flip side I’m a bit disappointed again, because I don’t see a genuine English vintage bike. The oldest machine is a 1974 BMW R60. I’m probably the youngest member of the group. Are the locals running out of youngsters? The destination is Lunna Church, a small isolated chapel about 38 km north of Lerwick. And, as everywhere on the island, you ride carefully and courteously—no racing, no pushing. In Germany that would be a rather hopeless case. In the sunshine we reach the little church as people in traditional costume file out of the building. I manage to ask two of them for a quick portrait before they slip back into civilian clothes. Unfortunately I never learn why they were in costume. While I’m looking at the old gravestones, I suddenly hear beautiful violin sounds coming from inside the church. I’m immediately drawn in, eager to get to the source of the music. It appears to be some kind of promotional recording, as everything is being directed by a videographer. As I later learned, the piece was performed by Claire White on violin and Robbie Leask on guitar. I’m no connoisseur of local music, but it does have a touch of home‑grown folklore. They don’t have a record with them on the spot—couldn’t have expected the “Steppi” with special requests to turn up on a Sunday afternoon. After the cultural highlight we wind back south through narrow winding lanes. Colin and I say goodbye just before Scalloway and arrange to meet at 8 a.m. on Monday at the harbour to pick up the long‑desired new shaft seal. Back at the hotel we first get a hot shower and then a coffee, still hot.

So why am I going on the ride when the shaft seal is broken? Well, the area under the engine block is damp, and such leaks have the unpleasant habit of not getting any smaller over time. In any case, I haven’t yet got the nice oil at my feet, so the decision to ride is a calculated risk. Otherwise I’m in good hands here should the problem become larger. It’s great that I can even tackle the issue here and that a few enthusiasts can help me with organization or a garage. Alone in the Highlands the problem might be harder to handle. So I hope I can eventually make up for the two‑day delay. We’ll see.

The hoped‑for sunset south of Scalloway and the evening sighting of seals were unfortunately lost to rain. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose.