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Taylorcraft tour to Orkneys, Shetlands & Hebrides
It has been an ambition for some time to visit Scapa Flow in the Orkneys, where in 1919 the captured German fleet was scuttled by its crews, and where in 1939 HMS Royal Oak was sunk by a German U-Boat.
Martin and I in ‘EY, Michael and Freddy in ‘PX and Steve & Chris in ‘OX set out to fulfil this promise. The trio of Taylorcraft depart Leicester in perfect weather bound for points north. As a formation, the workload is shared by all, with only one aircraft having to do the radio, only one transponder required (if at all) and having two crew on each aircraft allows sharing of the navigational duties.
Our chosen route takes us over Chatsworth, through the Derwent valley and the Lake District for a refuel at Carlisle.
Above: Ladybower reservoir in the Derwent valley
Above: Haweswater reservoir in the Lakes, nicknamed by us "Mirror Lake".
No wonder floatplane pilots have a hard time on glassy-water landings.
We refuel at Carlisle, which has done little to improve its rather pompous attitude to “little aeroplanes” since my last visit there in 2008. How I wish Kirkbride would get itself a bowser. Even the Carlisle café is shut, so an impromptu picnic takes place in the car park.
Pressing northwards, in beautiful weather with a small tailwind, we cross the moorlands heading towards Perth:
Perth is a delight; a very hospitable welcome. After more petrol and some tea, and deciding on the scenic route north, we follow the A9 valley past Pitlochry.
Above: Salmon ladder at Pitlochry to allow spawning salmon to bypass the man-made dam.
Later, we pass the Inverness overhead...
...and continuing north, we leave the mainland of the UK for the Mainland of the Orkneys, landing in a damp Kirkwall.
This airfield is very GA-friendly, and appears to have struck the correct balance between security, accessibility and common sense.
We can park on the grass, and only one in the party is required to be a yellow-vested monster.
Above: We await the local bus (£1.20 each) to take us into town...
...where we make our requirement for accommodation & victuals known to the Concierge of Kirkwall Hotel on the harbour front. Michael haggles a 10% discount!
The celebration of a successful day's flying goes on into the wee hours, and much of the local brew "Scapa Special" (I recommend it) and whisky is consumed.
Morning brings the sore-headed heroes face-to-face with the unwelcome view from hotel windows: we are becalmed. Not a common sight, we are told, due to the usual horrendous winds.
Above: Nil winds envelop the Orkneys in fog
So we decide to rest up (as if we have a choice!) and see the local sights. We drive to Stromness, and en route, pause at the location of the wreck of the Royal Oak. We doff our caps.
We also visit the Cathedral in Kirkwall, much of it built in the 11th & 12th centuries.
Above: St Magnus Cathedral in Kirkwall
Above: Stone-age stone circle
Our few days of R&R soon come to their logical conclusion, and with greatly improved weather we set on, northbound.
The many islands of the Orkneys offer stunning views:
Above: The influence of the Atlantic is evident in the clear blue waters
We plan our route to take us over Fair Isle, which neatly provides a half-way stepping stone in the 50-mile stretch between the Orkneys and the more northern Shetlands. This makes our sedate headwind-hindered progress a little more comfortable, at least psychologically.
Above: Fair Isle (of knitwear fame) comes into view...
Above: ...and has a runway perched in a saddle in the centre of the island.
Above: With Fair Isle receding behind...
Above: ...we receive a welcoming & friendly radar control service from Sumburgh, and pass just to the west of the field.
The visibility is stunning, with few pollutants (and no volcanic ash clouds) to disturb our wandering (and wondering) eyes.
Calling Tingwall as we pass, to ensure they have avgas for our return, we miss Scatsca and fly up Unst towards the lighthouse at Muckle Flugga, the northern most spot of the British Isles.
Above: The early-warning radar on Hermaness. Russkies, watch out!
We intentionally fly around Out Stack, a rocky outcrop just to the north of the lighthouse, so as to fly "off the map"! Next stop the Faroes to the northwest! (or Norway to the northeast).
The populous wild birdlife on these islands shows in too few of our photos, but we daren’t approach too close to some cliff-side colonies for fear of disturbing nesting pairs.
Above: Even the cartographer squeezed this part of Scotlans in!
Above: Lighthouse on Muckle Flugga, with Out Stack at the top.
After nearly three hours or so airborne, our bladders make their presence felt, so I ask the others on company frequency if a quick stop at Fetlar is called for:
Above: With no parking, we simply stop on the runway at Fetlar for a pee stop
The 180 degree turn south has turned our headwind into a lusty tailwind, so in no time we are talking to Tingwall for fuel.
Above: Approaching Tingwall from the north
A few showers pass, leaving a glistening runway guiding our way in. A very warm welcome awaits us from the council employees.
The fuel, however, is an eye-watering £2.50 per litre. We were well aware of this in advance, and had little choice due to our limited endurance. The fuel has to be shipped in, in 50-gallon barrels and then transferred to the bowser. We are actually buying it from the airline (which one we are not sure), so they need to make a little profit too.
Above: While we wait for fuel at Tingwall, the northerly wind is bitingly fresh!
Above: Tingwall apron...
Above: ...and the local bus service departing to another island.
All the airfields on both Shetland and Orkney are Council-operated. The B-N Islanders provide communication between the remote communities. Shetland residents get about a 50% subsidy from the Highlands & Islands Council, whereas non-residents pay full fare.
Our formation take-off from Tingwall sees us reversing our northbound track, past Sumburgh and Fair Isle.
From Fair Isle, we route more westerly to intercept Westray and Papa Westray airfields, famed for the shortest commercial flights between two airfields. With a now blowing northerly, our compass heading & GPS track show a 40 degree difference...no problem normally, but with the nose of the aircraft pointed west to Canada (and no land in sight ahead), we have to trust dead reckoning (and St Garmin) to bring our track more south-westerly back to Orkney.
Above: Westray
We can't resist flying over the disused airfield of Twatt, although a touch-and-go was out because of livestock coverage.
Above: Twatt
Receiving a courtesy service from Kirkwall, we fly over Scapa Flow, but see no evidence of sunken ships. Apparently, when calm, fuel oil still seeping from the wrecks is visible on the surface.
Above: Entering Scapa Flow from the west
Further round the island of Hoy, one of Martin’s ambitions is fulfilled... to see the Old Man of Hoy, climbed for the first time by Chris Bonnington in 1966.
Above: Old Man of Hoy
Onwards southbound, and returning to the UK mainland, we stop for essentials at Wick, from where many transatlantic GA flights are launched (and received). Free teas, coffees & choccy bars are on offer, and we partook with gusto.
Above: Wick, where again we received a very warm welcome.
Heading south and west, and across the width of Scotland, we are planning to night stop at Glenforsa, on Mull in the Western Isles.
Above: Hugging the coast southbound, we scud-run a little.
The northerly wind now howls across Loch Ness, subjecting us to quite unpleasant turbulence, even though the views belie the rough ride.
Above: Flying down Loch Ness…and no sign of Nessie!
David the Airfield Manager at Glenforsa welcomes us with open arms.
Above: Glenforsa…
Above: …and after a long day’s flight, a few tinnies are in order!
The wind is howling down the sea loch (and straight across the only grass runway!)
So we’re wrapped up warm against the wind chill.
Above: Glenforsa Control Tower
The Glenforsa Hotel offers the weary and hungry traveller fresh beers and evening food, although we camp under the wing for the night. In fact we were so impressed with the hospitality, we decided to base ourselves at Glenforsa for three nights; two under canvas and one in the luxury of the hotel accommodation.
Above: The boys in party mood, wearing tee-shirts, specially made for the trip by Steve’s wife Wynn.
Above: The party mood extends late.
So late in fact that one us (not me!) decides on a chilly midnight dip in the petrifyingly cold sea.
Rather him than me!
The next few days we spend like schoolboys allowed a free reign in the sweet shop. Gallivanting around the local islands & sights, from Plockton to Skye, Rum and Eigg & Muck, to Coll and Staffa.
Above: Plockton
Above: The new Isle of Skye bridge (and no, I was not tempted!)
Above: The Isle of Skye
Above: Eigg
Above: Fingal’s Cave on Staffa…flown with Felix Mendelssohn’s “Fingal’s Cave” playing on the IPod!
The vertical basalt columns are an extension of the same formation that form the Giant’s Causeway in Ireland.
Another highlight of the tour is going to Barra, licensed airfield on the beach. It’s a long sea crossing for us, something like 60 miles, but the weather is perfect, and like most of the trip, we have our life jackets on. These allow the emergency services to find the body, and in these cold northern waters, will not really do much to improve survival.
Above: Outbound to Barra, we pass picture-postcard Tobermory…
Above: …and then we look out north-west to the Outer Hebrides and the Atlantic.
Above: The Patron Saint of aviators, St Garmin, shows the way.
Above: Approaching Barra in a little shower,…
Above: …we join overhead the beach for a look-see at the windsocks & runway markings.
Obviously, the beach airfield is only open at low tide.
Above: Thresholds to the three runways are highlighted by orange markers.
Above: FlyBe Twotter behind a better-looking charabanc
Above: The young FISO in the tower allows us to take photos from the balcony.
What a privilege to be able to fly here! We loved the relaxed attitude to mixing commercial and private flying.
Our return from Barra to Glenforsa and our last night in Scotland at the Glenforsa Hotel sees the end of our Grand Tour approaching.
Sadly, we must leave these beautiful lands and islands.
We plan to drop into Oban for fuel on the return home, with a further night stop in Steve & Wynn’s home in the eastern Lake District.
Above: Steve enjoying tea & jammy dodgers (thanks, Paul!)
Above: After takeoff, we pass Oban town…
Above: …where we spot the local taxi service arriving with a fare.
We route along the Crinan canal, then between the Glasgow and Prestwick zones, cross the Solway Firth near Kirkbride, and route along the M6 to Shap for our nightstop.
Above: M6
We stop at Bedland’s Gate, and receive yet another tremendous welcome from the local Earl, who is the airfield owner & microlight pilot.
Above: Bedland’s Gate...and with Steve a few miles away available for refuelling duty, no need to go to Carlisle again...hurrah!
Above: with resident trotting track around the peri-track!
The return home to Leicester sees us above the Yorkshire Dales, and (in part) along the Carlisle to Settle line; thence past Hucknall, Nottingham and Ratcliffe aerodromes.
Our track:
22 hours and about 2000 miles travelled with good & trustworthy friends.
Many friendly & beautiful places visited.
Most memorable things?
The friendship of fellow vfr Taylorcraft owners & pilots on a Grand Tour.
The sincere and genuine welcome we received everywhere in Scotland, be they airfields, bars, restaurants or the folk in the street.
Worthy of a return trip, says I.
(edited to change PhotoPhuckit links to my own)
It has been an ambition for some time to visit Scapa Flow in the Orkneys, where in 1919 the captured German fleet was scuttled by its crews, and where in 1939 HMS Royal Oak was sunk by a German U-Boat.
Martin and I in ‘EY, Michael and Freddy in ‘PX and Steve & Chris in ‘OX set out to fulfil this promise. The trio of Taylorcraft depart Leicester in perfect weather bound for points north. As a formation, the workload is shared by all, with only one aircraft having to do the radio, only one transponder required (if at all) and having two crew on each aircraft allows sharing of the navigational duties.
Our chosen route takes us over Chatsworth, through the Derwent valley and the Lake District for a refuel at Carlisle.
Above: Ladybower reservoir in the Derwent valley
Above: Haweswater reservoir in the Lakes, nicknamed by us "Mirror Lake".
No wonder floatplane pilots have a hard time on glassy-water landings.
We refuel at Carlisle, which has done little to improve its rather pompous attitude to “little aeroplanes” since my last visit there in 2008. How I wish Kirkbride would get itself a bowser. Even the Carlisle café is shut, so an impromptu picnic takes place in the car park.
Pressing northwards, in beautiful weather with a small tailwind, we cross the moorlands heading towards Perth:
Perth is a delight; a very hospitable welcome. After more petrol and some tea, and deciding on the scenic route north, we follow the A9 valley past Pitlochry.
Above: Salmon ladder at Pitlochry to allow spawning salmon to bypass the man-made dam.
Later, we pass the Inverness overhead...
...and continuing north, we leave the mainland of the UK for the Mainland of the Orkneys, landing in a damp Kirkwall.
This airfield is very GA-friendly, and appears to have struck the correct balance between security, accessibility and common sense.
We can park on the grass, and only one in the party is required to be a yellow-vested monster.
Above: We await the local bus (£1.20 each) to take us into town...
...where we make our requirement for accommodation & victuals known to the Concierge of Kirkwall Hotel on the harbour front. Michael haggles a 10% discount!
The celebration of a successful day's flying goes on into the wee hours, and much of the local brew "Scapa Special" (I recommend it) and whisky is consumed.
Morning brings the sore-headed heroes face-to-face with the unwelcome view from hotel windows: we are becalmed. Not a common sight, we are told, due to the usual horrendous winds.
Above: Nil winds envelop the Orkneys in fog
So we decide to rest up (as if we have a choice!) and see the local sights. We drive to Stromness, and en route, pause at the location of the wreck of the Royal Oak. We doff our caps.
We also visit the Cathedral in Kirkwall, much of it built in the 11th & 12th centuries.
Above: St Magnus Cathedral in Kirkwall
Above: Stone-age stone circle
Our few days of R&R soon come to their logical conclusion, and with greatly improved weather we set on, northbound.
The many islands of the Orkneys offer stunning views:
Above: The influence of the Atlantic is evident in the clear blue waters
We plan our route to take us over Fair Isle, which neatly provides a half-way stepping stone in the 50-mile stretch between the Orkneys and the more northern Shetlands. This makes our sedate headwind-hindered progress a little more comfortable, at least psychologically.
Above: Fair Isle (of knitwear fame) comes into view...
Above: ...and has a runway perched in a saddle in the centre of the island.
Above: With Fair Isle receding behind...
Above: ...we receive a welcoming & friendly radar control service from Sumburgh, and pass just to the west of the field.
The visibility is stunning, with few pollutants (and no volcanic ash clouds) to disturb our wandering (and wondering) eyes.
Calling Tingwall as we pass, to ensure they have avgas for our return, we miss Scatsca and fly up Unst towards the lighthouse at Muckle Flugga, the northern most spot of the British Isles.
Above: The early-warning radar on Hermaness. Russkies, watch out!
We intentionally fly around Out Stack, a rocky outcrop just to the north of the lighthouse, so as to fly "off the map"! Next stop the Faroes to the northwest! (or Norway to the northeast).
The populous wild birdlife on these islands shows in too few of our photos, but we daren’t approach too close to some cliff-side colonies for fear of disturbing nesting pairs.
Above: Even the cartographer squeezed this part of Scotlans in!
Above: Lighthouse on Muckle Flugga, with Out Stack at the top.
After nearly three hours or so airborne, our bladders make their presence felt, so I ask the others on company frequency if a quick stop at Fetlar is called for:
Above: With no parking, we simply stop on the runway at Fetlar for a pee stop
The 180 degree turn south has turned our headwind into a lusty tailwind, so in no time we are talking to Tingwall for fuel.
Above: Approaching Tingwall from the north
A few showers pass, leaving a glistening runway guiding our way in. A very warm welcome awaits us from the council employees.
The fuel, however, is an eye-watering £2.50 per litre. We were well aware of this in advance, and had little choice due to our limited endurance. The fuel has to be shipped in, in 50-gallon barrels and then transferred to the bowser. We are actually buying it from the airline (which one we are not sure), so they need to make a little profit too.
Above: While we wait for fuel at Tingwall, the northerly wind is bitingly fresh!
Above: Tingwall apron...
Above: ...and the local bus service departing to another island.
All the airfields on both Shetland and Orkney are Council-operated. The B-N Islanders provide communication between the remote communities. Shetland residents get about a 50% subsidy from the Highlands & Islands Council, whereas non-residents pay full fare.
Our formation take-off from Tingwall sees us reversing our northbound track, past Sumburgh and Fair Isle.
From Fair Isle, we route more westerly to intercept Westray and Papa Westray airfields, famed for the shortest commercial flights between two airfields. With a now blowing northerly, our compass heading & GPS track show a 40 degree difference...no problem normally, but with the nose of the aircraft pointed west to Canada (and no land in sight ahead), we have to trust dead reckoning (and St Garmin) to bring our track more south-westerly back to Orkney.
Above: Westray
We can't resist flying over the disused airfield of Twatt, although a touch-and-go was out because of livestock coverage.
Above: Twatt
Receiving a courtesy service from Kirkwall, we fly over Scapa Flow, but see no evidence of sunken ships. Apparently, when calm, fuel oil still seeping from the wrecks is visible on the surface.
Above: Entering Scapa Flow from the west
Further round the island of Hoy, one of Martin’s ambitions is fulfilled... to see the Old Man of Hoy, climbed for the first time by Chris Bonnington in 1966.
Above: Old Man of Hoy
Onwards southbound, and returning to the UK mainland, we stop for essentials at Wick, from where many transatlantic GA flights are launched (and received). Free teas, coffees & choccy bars are on offer, and we partook with gusto.
Above: Wick, where again we received a very warm welcome.
Heading south and west, and across the width of Scotland, we are planning to night stop at Glenforsa, on Mull in the Western Isles.
Above: Hugging the coast southbound, we scud-run a little.
The northerly wind now howls across Loch Ness, subjecting us to quite unpleasant turbulence, even though the views belie the rough ride.
Above: Flying down Loch Ness…and no sign of Nessie!
David the Airfield Manager at Glenforsa welcomes us with open arms.
Above: Glenforsa…
Above: …and after a long day’s flight, a few tinnies are in order!
The wind is howling down the sea loch (and straight across the only grass runway!)
So we’re wrapped up warm against the wind chill.
Above: Glenforsa Control Tower
The Glenforsa Hotel offers the weary and hungry traveller fresh beers and evening food, although we camp under the wing for the night. In fact we were so impressed with the hospitality, we decided to base ourselves at Glenforsa for three nights; two under canvas and one in the luxury of the hotel accommodation.
Above: The boys in party mood, wearing tee-shirts, specially made for the trip by Steve’s wife Wynn.
Above: The party mood extends late.
So late in fact that one us (not me!) decides on a chilly midnight dip in the petrifyingly cold sea.
Rather him than me!
The next few days we spend like schoolboys allowed a free reign in the sweet shop. Gallivanting around the local islands & sights, from Plockton to Skye, Rum and Eigg & Muck, to Coll and Staffa.
Above: Plockton
Above: The new Isle of Skye bridge (and no, I was not tempted!)
Above: The Isle of Skye
Above: Eigg
Above: Fingal’s Cave on Staffa…flown with Felix Mendelssohn’s “Fingal’s Cave” playing on the IPod!
The vertical basalt columns are an extension of the same formation that form the Giant’s Causeway in Ireland.
Another highlight of the tour is going to Barra, licensed airfield on the beach. It’s a long sea crossing for us, something like 60 miles, but the weather is perfect, and like most of the trip, we have our life jackets on. These allow the emergency services to find the body, and in these cold northern waters, will not really do much to improve survival.
Above: Outbound to Barra, we pass picture-postcard Tobermory…
Above: …and then we look out north-west to the Outer Hebrides and the Atlantic.
Above: The Patron Saint of aviators, St Garmin, shows the way.
Above: Approaching Barra in a little shower,…
Above: …we join overhead the beach for a look-see at the windsocks & runway markings.
Obviously, the beach airfield is only open at low tide.
Above: Thresholds to the three runways are highlighted by orange markers.
Above: FlyBe Twotter behind a better-looking charabanc
Above: The young FISO in the tower allows us to take photos from the balcony.
What a privilege to be able to fly here! We loved the relaxed attitude to mixing commercial and private flying.
Our return from Barra to Glenforsa and our last night in Scotland at the Glenforsa Hotel sees the end of our Grand Tour approaching.
Sadly, we must leave these beautiful lands and islands.
We plan to drop into Oban for fuel on the return home, with a further night stop in Steve & Wynn’s home in the eastern Lake District.
Above: Steve enjoying tea & jammy dodgers (thanks, Paul!)
Above: After takeoff, we pass Oban town…
Above: …where we spot the local taxi service arriving with a fare.
We route along the Crinan canal, then between the Glasgow and Prestwick zones, cross the Solway Firth near Kirkbride, and route along the M6 to Shap for our nightstop.
Above: M6
We stop at Bedland’s Gate, and receive yet another tremendous welcome from the local Earl, who is the airfield owner & microlight pilot.
Above: Bedland’s Gate...and with Steve a few miles away available for refuelling duty, no need to go to Carlisle again...hurrah!
Above: with resident trotting track around the peri-track!
The return home to Leicester sees us above the Yorkshire Dales, and (in part) along the Carlisle to Settle line; thence past Hucknall, Nottingham and Ratcliffe aerodromes.
Our track:
22 hours and about 2000 miles travelled with good & trustworthy friends.
Many friendly & beautiful places visited.
Most memorable things?
The friendship of fellow vfr Taylorcraft owners & pilots on a Grand Tour.
The sincere and genuine welcome we received everywhere in Scotland, be they airfields, bars, restaurants or the folk in the street.
Worthy of a return trip, says I.
(edited to change PhotoPhuckit links to my own)
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