Community / A true ‘hairs on the back of the neck’ event
Davie Gardner reports from the Lerwick’s fiery Up Helly Aa procession
FEW WOULD argue that Shetland is, in itself, unique – but perhaps that which sets us apart most is our culture, heritage and, of course, our people.
As such, it’s hard to imagine an event like Up Helly Aa, arguably our most recognised, iconic and certainly our most unique festival, happening anywhere else.
Since its commencement back in the late 1880s, Lerwick Up Helly Aa has grown in stature to become arguably our most eagerly anticipated, highest profile event. This is especially true in terms of national and international recognition, with visitors, and indeed media personnel and TV crews, from around the world descending on Lerwick annually to witness the spectacle.
Through this, and despite the almost inevitably cold and often inclement January weather, Up Helly Aa generates a significant buzz around the town and an associated feelgood factor to go with that.
Although storm Eowyn had largely delivered most of its vigour the preceding weekend, wet and windy weather nevertheless maintained a grip until Up Helly Aa morning, ruffling a few feathers – well wings to be exact – on the jarl squad helmets during the morning procession in the town. Needless to say, none of this did anything to dampen sprits in the slightest.
Thankfully, however, the weather improved significantly ahead of the centrepiece of the festival, the evening procession, the culmination of which is the ritualistic burning of the imposing 10m long replica galley as it meets a fiery demise, suitably kindled by almost one thousand large, flaming torches.
As the hands on the Lerwick Town Hall clock edge ever closer to the start of the procession at 7.30pm (prompt) there’s an expectant, almost palpable hush that falls over the thousand or so diversely attired guizers lining the streets, not to mention the many thousands of spectators eagerly but patiently awaiting one of the most spectacular moments of the whole event – the ‘light up.’ Unfortunately, by that time a light rain had started again. Nobody seemed to care though.
Immediately prior to that though they have nosily welcomed and hailed jarl Calum Grains (by day the CEO of Lerwick Port Authority) aka King Eystein Magnusson (for today at least) and his 60 strong squad of Viking warriors (both male and female) as they march proudly and ceremoniously up the ranks of assembled guizers, taking the acclaim and their appointed place, with their galley, at the head of the procession.
On the stroke of 7.30pm the skyborne, shock-inducing explosion of a maroon, greeted by a huge cheer from the assembled throng, signals that the long-awaited time has come. Handheld flares ably wielded by the event marshals immediately erupt and crackle into blinding life along the whole length of the procession and from there the thousand or so torches are almost simultaneously lit, accompanied by the (for many Up Helly Aa enthusiasts) associated and emotive aroma of flaming paraffin – the highly inflammable, soaked-in ingredient which aids in the extremely quick torch-lighting process.
For the first few seconds everything and everyone in the area is bathed in an intense red glow – a true ‘hairs on the back of the neck’ moment and a prime photo opportunity – before the dark and chill of the evening is almost instantaneously banished by the light and heat emanating from the mass of torches.
For those who choose to witness the ‘light up’ from a distance elsewhere along the procession route, the initial red glow from the flares silhouettes the rows of houses in the area in a red, eerie, almost apocalyptic glow – a breathtaking sight in itself – prior to the actual flames of the torches themselves becoming visible in the gloom between the various buildings.
“This is insane,” screams an unknown but clearly delighted female voice in my vicinity – almost certainly unaccustomed to the spectacle and obviously more than a bit overawed by it too, as the fiery procession slowly starts to move off.
No matter how many times you witness it, the procession never fails to impress. Visually at times, from a distance at least, it can resemble rivers of fiery lava flowing down a mountainside, albeit accompanied by waves of suitably fortified, at times sporadic and largely out of tune singing.
“It’s incredible, what a sight,” exclaims a clearly excited Rosemary Forsyth from Edinburgh, who’s here with her slightly less animated husband Alex along with their camper van to take in Up Helly Aa for the first time – something that’s been on their bucket list for a long time she tells me.
“It looks amazing on telly but nothing can prepare you for this,” she adds, as the galley makes its way into the burning site against a backdrop of fire and ahead of the most iconic image of the whole event – the galley burning.
Further spine tingling, hairs-on-the-back-on-the-neck moments follow. The torchlit procession entering the park and encircling the galley, the plaintive lone bugle fanfare to signal the torches to be thrown into the galley and, of course, the burning itself complete, soon after, with the almost symbolic mast collapse that many regular Up Helly Aa spectators wait avidly for – a sign that the end is nigh. Then, as the sparks and flames rise into the night sky, the plaintive song the Norseman’s Home is sung, accompanied by very few dry eyes – rain soaked or not!
The assembled throng then begin to wind their way, by this time somewhat damply, either home, to the pub or, alternatively of course, onward to one of the eleven halls open throughout Lerwick who are tasked with hosting the marathon night of guizing related revelry that’s to follow. I elect to head straight home, wafting in my wake the less than seductive smell of smoke and spent paraffin which is now seemingly ingrained in every pore of my body.
En route I meet a group of clearly exuberant Americans who are visiting Shetland for the first time especially for Up Helly Aa. Steven and Elissa Lunder and Tricia Mordas hail from Boston. They tell me their trip has been ten years in the planning, but having fallen foul of storm Eowyn it took them two days of hard travelling to get to Scotland alone.
“It’s been absolutely fantastic though,” says Elissa, “better than we ever could have imagined. It’s been worth all the effort.”
They go on to tell me how “civilised, orderly and well organised” the whole event is and that something such as Up Helly Aa could never happen in the United States today. “It’s simply amazing,” they tell me as they head off to their hall.
For them, and many hundreds of others, it’s twelve more hours, if not more, of dancing, drinking, eating and fun. For me it’s a welcome shower, bed and, unlike many, the promise of a hangover free day to look forward to.
Become a member of Shetland News
Shetland News is asking its many readers to consider paying for membership to get additional features and services: -
- Remove non-local ads;
- Bookmark posts to read later;
- Exclusive curated weekly newsletter;
- Hide membership messages;
- Comments open for discussion.
If you appreciate what we do and feel strongly about impartial local journalism, then please become a member of Shetland News by either making a single payment, or setting up a monthly, quarterly or yearly subscription.
Already a member? Sign in to hide this message.
