A Viking's view: what is it like being in an Up Helly Aa Jarl's Squad?

Experiencing Up Helly Aa from the outside is special. Not only is it Europe’s biggest fire festival, but it is also a tremendous example of Shetland’s community spirit in the dark days of late January.

But only around 60 people a year get to experience Up Helly Aa at its biggest and most intense - as members of the Jarl Squad who parade the streets, visit care centres and schools, have clamouring crowds waiting everywhere they go and sing, dance and entertain for a full 25 hours.

In 2026, I was one of the lucky 65 at the very forefront of the festival as it rapidly unfolded in front of thousands of onlookers.

For context, the 2026 Guizer Jarl Lynden Nicolson is my dad, so I’ve known for a very long time that I would be joining him on his big day.

For him, it was the longest wait in Up Helly Aa history. He was initially due to be jarl in January 2024, having waited 16 years, but instead, that was elongated to almost 18 years due to Covid.

Having had that length of wait, and having been lucky enough to be part of the Jarl's Squad in 2019, I should have been well prepared for Up Helly Aa 2026.

But nothing can prepare you, no matter how many times you do it. How do you describe being at the centre of a week-long whirlwind?

One squad member said Up Helly Aa is like a train that you get on at 8am on Tuesday and don’t get off again for 24 hours. That’s an apt way of describing it for the uninitiated.

What most on the outside don’t see is the squad setting alarms for 5:30am on Tuesday to get their full Viking suits on, some for only the second time, and often with the help of beleaguered family members who haven’t been shown what strap goes where and what buckle gets fastened next.

At breakfast on Tuesday morning, the mood was one of pure excitement. A different squad becomes the Jarl's Squad every year, and this year’s squad – my squad – had never been Jarl's Squad in the event’s 100-plus year history.

More than half of the 65-strong squad of men, women and children had never been in a Jarl 's Squad. This was a walk into the dark unknown, in front of thousands of eyes.

The first test comes outside Islesburgh at 8am, when the squad emerges to the public for the first time in their suits. The feeling at this point is of pure adrenaline, with people waiting at the starting line to photograph and video you immediately.

If you want to, you can roar yourself hoarse before you’ve even taken a step. As an Up Helly Aa veteran, the key is to save your voice for endless renditions of the Up Helly Aa song later!

The next major milestone comes as the squad visits the Toll Clock Shopping Centre some 30 minutes later. Here the squad unveils its squad song for the first time – this year, We Will Rock You for a Queen-loving jarl – which is performed/roared into the faces of scores of people watching from a packed staircase.

Then it is a procession from the Lerwick Legion past pavements lined with excited young schoolchildren, before arriving to serenade the proclamation – AKA the bill – at the Market Cross.

After a civic reception at Lerwick Town Hall, one of the last chances to sit for any length of time, it really does become a whirlwind of visits, faces and songs.

Such is the speed of the day, and the scarcity of time, that my half of the squad has just 15 minutes to scarf down a steak pie at lunchtime before heading to our next stop.

Sound School, Bells Brae School, Islesburgh Lunch Club. One half of the squad visits a care home and the Gilbert Bain Hospital, while the other goes to a disability support service and a supported living service. We’re all on the train now.

But there are no complaints, no grumbles. Everywhere the squad goes, they are met with exuberant families, elated children or excited staff. It’s impossible not to have fun when you’re providing so much joy simply by walking through the doors.

Such is the absurdity of the day, being greeted by celebrity strongmen brothers Luke and Tom Stoltman isn’t even in the top 10 highlights.

The ticketed Shetland Museum event, which sells out in just three minutes, is a highlight, however. Visitors queue up to meet the squad, snap photos and try on helmets, axes and shields, while asking some of the most insightful and interesting questions about the suit that we hear all day.

The ticketed Shetland Museum event, which sells out in just three minutes, is a highlight, however. Visitors queue up to meet the squad, snap photos and try on helmets, axes and shields, while asking some of the most insightful and interesting questions about the suit that we hear all day.

After cheering the Junior Jarl Squad on in their procession, it’s back to the town hall for a brief respite and some dinner before the madness really begins.

Having taken parts of the suit off for the first time in 10 hours, someone remarks that when we put our breastplates back on, they will stay on for another 12 hours. A sobering reminder of the demands of the day!

And then it is for many, the main event – the torchlit procession. From the sidelines again, this is an incredible watch – stunning on a Promote Shetland livestream, never mind watching from the Lerwick pavements.

But for the Jarl's Squad, they get a remarkable front-row view. The squad is the first to have their torches lit, and they then walk “up the ranks” of close to 1,000 guizers who roar and cheer them on to the front of the procession.

No matter how many times you experience this – once or five times – it is simply spine-tingling.

For me, there was added intrigue to this year’s procession. For the first time ever – and likely ever again – my brother and I were “leading the ranks” and the procession as a whole.

I let out a gulp when I heard a newcomer get told a week before Up Helly Aa that guizers “just have to follow the person in front” – and realised that for roughly half of the 1,000 people there, I was the person in front.

The procession passes in a fiery haze, a cacophony of shouts, roars and songs, until it reaches its inevitable fiery climax as our galley is burned just metres away from us. A bittersweet moment, but a poignant one.

And then it is swiftly onto the 11 halls, where the Jarl Squad are the guests of honour wherever they go once again.

After being awake and on our feet for over 15 hours, most halls become a fuel stop for weary guizers. Soup, bannocks and cups of tea are thrown back in between traditional dances, more photo opportunities and conversations with excited guests.

A full 25 hours after we arrive for breakfast on Tuesday morning, we arrive for breakfast on Wednesday morning. This is for the hardy, and I slink off to sleep instead.

To my shame, I discovered hours later that our oldest guizer – who is 87 years old and believed to be the oldest Jarl Squad member ever – had made it to breakfast. I did say it was for the hardy.

As I retreat to bed, the full enormity and magnitude of the day barely even register. Somehow, Up Helly Aa for a Jarl Squad member is the fastest and longest day of the year, 25 hours (and 18 years) gone within the blink of an eye.

But as one squad member put it – what a blink.