Whenever I tell anyone about Shetland, I usually tell them the Sumburgh airport story.
The bit of land that the airport occupies at the southern most tip of Shetland is so narrow that the main runway at one end stretches out into the sea, and at the other end stretches over the main road. I tell people that whenever a plane lands or takes off they have to close the road as the plane starts its take off procedure on the road.
I’m not sure people entirely believe me when I tell them. Well here’s the proof. A photo I took today on a mid afternoon stroll to Sumburgh.
Until a few years ago this bit where the road meets the runway was controlled by flashing lights. If the lights flashed you didn’t go through. The problem was the Shetland residents started to get a little confident. They thought they could get through the lights before the 9.20 British Airways flight from Dyce landed. On many occasions they were wrong. The number of go arounds increased and something had to be done. So barriers and patrol men were brought in.
For a spell my friend Ryan had the job. Every time a plane would land or take off he’d drive from the control tower, down to the gates, close them and then open them again 5 minutes later. At a busy airport this would keep someone occupied all day but at Sumburgh where planes only land every 3 hours it must have been a monotonous job to say the least.
So monotonous that Ryan had to have something else to occupy his time. He would quite often sing along to songs on the radio to pass the time of day. There is a fantastic story he tells in which he was listening to Steve Wrights Golden Oldies and singing along to Tom Jones’s Delila. Unbeknown to him, his jacket was pushing down on the button on his walkie talkie back to the control tower. The afternoon flight from Edinburgh had to abort landing because they couldn’t get in contact with the tower because Ryan was blocking the channel with his singing.
I’m not sure how exaggerated the story was, but it was a good story to tell after a few drinks.
