I woke to the sound of the wind, whistling and howling as it circled the house. Hailstones clattered against the windows as the storm worked its self into a fury. Over the noise of the gale, I could hear the roar of the Atlantic, and as soon as it was light I went to the beach.
With 1,700 miles of spectacular coastlines, Shetland is shaped by the power of the seas. But winter storms also bring unexpected treasure to the shores. Catherine Munro goes beachcombing.
The sea was a living mass of energy, blue-grey and froth frenzied. The strength of the wind made walking difficult so I sat, watching the waves.
There is a particular moment, when the sunlight hits a wave as it breaks, where there is an incredible flash of turquoise. Water appears like glass, the detail in its pattern fixed for an instant, before it transforms into white horses racing to shore.
Spindrift, whipped from wave crests filled the air with a salt-laden glaze. As I breathed the salty air, feeling the ground shake from the power of the water, it was as though the boundaries between earth and sky, land and sea were uncertain, always in motion.
Clouds moved rapidly, their shadows creating patchworks of light and shade while a rainbow on the horizon suggested approaching showers. The tide must have been carrying fish close to shore as gulls circled above the waves, dipping down to catch something, before quickly rising to avoid being engulfed by the swell.
A pair of ravens joined them. Their flight, elaborate twists turns and dives, appeared like a dance, as they moved with the wind.
The next day, I walked along the same beach. The sea was unbelievably still. Watching the clear water lap gently at the shore made the froth and fury of the previous day’s sea feel like a dream. Yet evidence of the storm was all around, the sand strewn with debris. I brought a bag to fill with pieces of plastic but amongst the bruck, was treasure.
Flotsom carried the shells of goose barnacles, washed ashore after a life at sea. My son found a blue beach spade which he believed was one he lost to the sea years ago returning to him, and perhaps it was.
A little way along the coast we found several tiny cowrie shells. Known locally as groattie buckies, these shells are a special find, thought to bring good luck.
Watching the clear water lap gently at the shore made the froth and fury of the previous day’s sea feel like a dream.
It is always special to find birch bark curls, tiny sculptures telling stories of distant trees. Known as Loki's candles, these pieces of bark have crossed the Atlantic to reach Shetland's shores and have traditionally been used for tinder.
We walked home, with pockets full of treasure. I often feel that living in Shetland is living in weather. The moods of sea and sky part of our of landscape, shaping our experiences of the places we love.
This storm brought objects from afar and we spent the evening tracing their origins and learning their stories. The extreme weather reminding us of how we are part of a living, connected world.
Impressive storms and beautiful calm days. Discover more about life in Shetland.