Severe but spectacular

Closer to Norway than they are to the Scottish capital of Edinburgh, the Shetland Islands are already remote. But the isle of Foula (population: 30) makes other parts of the archipelago seem practically connected. Located 20 miles west of the next landfall, it’s the most isolated, inhabited island in all of the British Isles.

That, of course, was exactly the draw for Getty photographer Jeff J Mitchell. “It’s very difficult to get to in certain weather conditions,” he told BBC Travel. “You can get stuck there. You have to take your own food in because there’s no B&B to stay at.”

Then there was the weather: “It’s so exposed, the wind was waking me up at night. I felt it was going to blow the place apart.”

Mitchell’s photographs, the result of his four days shooting the island and its inhabitants, hint at what it’s like to live in such severe – but spectacular – conditions. (Credit: Jeff J Mitchell/Getty)

Ancient roots

Just about five square miles in size, Foula has been inhabited for up to 5,000 years. In the 9th Century, the Norse conquered the island – leaving behind the ancient language, called Norn, which was still spoken here into the 19th Century – and in the 15th Century, the Scots took over. Today, the island is privately owned by the Holbourn family.

While the population has fluctuated over the years, the 30 current residents include one school-aged child who attends school alone on Foula. “A lot of [the residents] have a connection with the island,” Mitchell said, whether they grew up on Foula or had family there. “I think to survive somewhere like that, you do need a connection with the island in some ways.” (Credit: Jeff J Mitchell/Getty)

On the edge

In 1937, a film was released called The Edge of the World. It was about St Kilda, a Scottish island even more remote than Foula, where the last residents asked to be evacuated to the mainland in 1930. But, to the director’s disappointment, he wasn’t allowed to film there.

Instead, he filmed on the island that, because of its wild scenery, isolated location and local residents, seemed the best stand-in: Foula.

“A colleague that I know went to see it, and he said what struck him about the film was the extras,” Mitchell said. “They were just people from Foula wearing their own clothes. They didn’t need to kit them out with wardrobe or anything like that. They just looked the part.” (Credit: Jeff J Mitchell/Getty)

Solitude calling

Foula is far more connected now than it was 80 years ago. For one, there are flights from Foula to the main island of the Shetlands, called Mainland, four days a week – thanks to an air strip that residents built in the 1970s. Still, with no mobile reception and so few residents, Foula can feel far away in more ways than geographical.

“There’s no traffic, no noise, no noise pollution. Your phone’s not going,” Mitchell said. “I loved it.” Even the telephone booth shown here doesn’t work – though there is a public phone at the airport, and residents all have their own land lines.

But it can feel different if you’re a local, when even going to the dentist or grocery store requires a flight or boat trip over the ocean. But that doesn’t mean islanders aren’t connected, according to Stuart Taylor, who has lived on Foula for more than 30 years, since moving there with family when he was 10. “This thing about us being cut off and all that, you don’t feel that at all. I don’t think it’s even real,” he said. “We still have a phone, and internet, and electricity and TV; what exactly are you cut off from?”

Still, Taylor admitted, it’s not quite the same for visitors. In particular, he remembers one tourist who came from Edinburgh, saying he was in search of peace and quiet. He lasted one day before taking the next boat back. “He couldn’t actually handle the solitude,” Taylor said, chuckling. (Credit: Jeff J Mitchell/Getty)

Strung along

Part of the reason Taylor doesn’t feel isolated is the island’s community. “It’s only a phone call to get people to come round and have dinner or play music,” he said.

One night during Mitchell’s stay, Taylor organised a sing-along at the house, playing traditional Scottish folk music. “They were all very musical,” Mitchell said of his companions. “They all played string-based instruments: the mandolin or guitar.”

This kind of island camaraderie can be hidden to tourists – unless, like Mitchell, they stay for more than a day or two. As an outsider, Mitchell said one challenge was making locals comfortable enough with him that he could get real glimpses into their lives. “Everyone was a bit – I wouldn’t say stand-offish, but they do like keeping themselves to themselves,” he said. “But if you’re there for four days, people see you knocking about and eventually start talking to you.” (Credit: Jeff J Mitchell/Getty)

Double lives

Events like the sing-along are the only kind of nightlife on the island. “There are no pubs and no shops. But there is a post office,” Mitchell said.

Keeping the island’s infrastructure going requires everyone to pitch in; most of the island’s residents have multiple jobs. One works at the school and is a fireman at the airport; another manages the post office and gives tours of the island to visitors. And all of them own at least a handful of animals, mostly sheep. (Credit: Jeff J Mitchell/Getty)

To market, to market

Aside from tourism – Foula’s seabird population means it draws a few hundred bird-watchers each summer – the main industry here is crofting, or small-scale farming, mainly with sheep.

But unlike many other crofting communities, getting these sheep to market involves a journey over the North Atlantic. The twin-prop plane that flies here from Mainland isn’t exactly conducive to moving livestock. Instead, the animals (along with anything else particularly bulky) have to go by boat, like these lambs heading off to be sold for their wool and meat. (Credit: Jeff J Mitchell/Getty)

Born to be wild

Because the island is so small, and because everyone knows each other, many of the animals roam free. Mitchell was taking a picture from the side of the road when he saw these Shetland ponies. “I could see these ponies in the distance, running down the road – and they all started grouping together,” he said. “That’s how you come across pictures in a story like this. Things just start to happen.”

Like the sheep, the ponies rarely live their lives out on Foula; instead, as a popular breed both for showing and for riding, they tend to be sold elsewhere. (Credit: Jeff J Mitchell/Getty)

Chance meeting

Crofter Eric Ibister, 78, grew up on Foula. He’s left the island only twice – and one of those two times was for his own birth. Initially Mitchell was going to be introduced to Eric by another islander. But Mitchell wound up driving past Ibister’s house and saw him feeding his cow, Daisy, and goat, Dixy, outside. On a whim, Mitchell stopped to say hello and ask if he could snap a few photographs.

To his surprise, Ibister was effusive, telling him to come right inside – even though people had told Mitchell not to “spring” on him. In retrospect, Mitchell said, laughing, “we think it was mistaken identity… His eyesight’s not the best.”

Mitchell was staying with another local who Ibister knew well. The two were about the same height, wore a similar flat cap and Mitchell had borrowed his car. “But once I was in, we got to chatting,” Mitchell said, adding that the crofter very quickly realised Mitchell was not, in fact, the islander he knew. “I was there for 1.5 hours.” (Credit: Jeff J Mitchell/Getty)

Into the past

“His house is like stepping back in time. It’s really like what an old croft house would have looked like,” Mitchell said of Ibister’s home. Along with plenty of old books and vinyl records, the crofter also has a cast-iron stove in the middle of the living room, both for cooking and for warming up the house during winter, when temperatures can drop below freezing. (Credit: Jeff J Mitchell/Getty)

Peaceful paradox

Most visitors to Foula worry that they’ll get stuck there because of the weather. And thanks to the frequency of storms, that’s a common occurrence.

But, perhaps surprisingly, this is one reason why Taylor loves living on the island. “The best part of it is when you know you’re cut off, and that there’s not going to be any transport, and you know everybody on the island,” he said. “It’s very rare you’re going to come up against any types of emergencies, any problems. It’s very relaxing.”

That’s the paradox of a place like Foula. It may be far from the institutions most communities depend on, like hospitals or police. But that very distance makes for a self-sustaining community – one where residents have the peace of mind that can only come from confidence in being able to survive on your own. (Credit: Jeff J Mitchell/Getty)