(EGPM) Scatsta, Shetland, GB

World Heritage Sites Air Adventure: No Time to Die – A Shetland Whodunit
Guest Log by DI Jimmy Perez, Shetland Police

This Sky Podcast is sponsored by Bark & Brew Shetland—strong tea, fresh coffee, fast wi-fi, scones that never last. Lani and Kai say it’s the best place on earth. Humans allowed—just don’t steal the dogs’ treats.

Episode 5: Scatsta (EGPM) – 24th May 2025
Scatsta, North Mainland

Leaving Fetlar, we detoured back over the Hill of Arisdale on Yell, where the RAF Catalina crashed. The Celtic cross stands on the moor. We scattered Hawaiian flowers—just a small gesture for the crew lost that January night. The Tiger Shark support aircraft circled in salute. For a moment, only the wind and the quiet presence of the past.

We landed at Scatsta. Engines ticking as they cooled, nobody said much. Sometimes, that’s the best way to remember.

Scatsta airfield is a ghost—wind through broken windows, moss cracking the tarmac. We overflew Sullom Voe’s oil tanks and North Roe’s radar dome, relics of watching the Russians. The terminal is silent, save for gulls. Outside, a cold north-westerly sweeps low clouds across the mossy runway, haar thick as buttermilk.

Cropduster’s dogs, Lani and Kai, explore in their Out Skerries vests. Kai finds a fire pit—embers still warm, ringed with cigar butts. Someone was here, not long ago.

Lani noses out a half-burnt photo—an island cliff, waves crashing below. On the back, a single line:
“We all have our secrets. We just didn’t get to yours yet.”

At the Brae Hotel, laughter spills from the bar, black pudding and clapshot on the air. Cropduster and I share a pint and a dram of Glengoyne—malty, fruity, a gentle sherry finish. A comfort after a day of chasing mysteries through the haar.

Davey Niven, retired airport worker, leans in:
“Du’s no fae roond here, are du? Dat English lad wis here—kept tae himsel’, asked aboot da Papa Stour ferry, left in a hurry. He wis askin’ aboot da auld Dambusters—617 Squadron, dey trained here. Left a fancy cigar stub, but didna finish it.

Mony a peerie mystery’s been left in Scatsta’s stoorie corners. Folk say da ghosts come oot when da haar’s thick as buttermilk.”

The words linger, cold and final.

Take care of yourself.

End log.

Cropduster’s flight note: Now flying with Orbx’s TrueEarth Great Britain North.
“Ho, brah! WINNA WINNA CHICKEN DINNA!”Read more