Five Years On: On Rhubarb, Resilience, and the Roads We Take

A quiet moment of reflection—and a reminder that the harder road often leads to the most meaningful places.

This morning I’m taking things slowly. There’s a welcome dinner tonight for the next tour group, and I’ve learned over the years that before I spend a week with guests, I need to recharge in my own company. A quiet morning—just me, my thoughts, catching up on small tasks around the house and work. And today, a little time with some rhubarb.

I’m chopping some for the freezer, some for jam. It’s one of those small, repetitive, satisfying tasks that allows your thoughts to wander. And today, they’ve taken me back exactly five years.

Back then, everything was uncertain.

I was swimming—or more accurately, drowning—in anxiety and uncertainty. Crying most days. The world was on pause, and with it, so was Shetland Wool Adventures. I had clients waiting, deposits—and even full payments—already taken, and no clear way to move forward. Every decision felt impossibly heavy. I genuinely didn’t know if I could keep the business afloat.

One person who helped me more than I can ever say was Hugh Harrop from Shetland Wildlife. Hugh, with his years of experience as a tour operator and calm outlook, was always there—on the other end of the phone with advice, encouragement, and the reassurance that I could get through it. I don’t think I’ve ever properly thanked him. So, Hugh, if you’re reading this—thank you. Your support made a real difference.

The truth is, I came close to giving up. Many times in fact. It would have been easier in many ways.

But I didn’t.

And here we are, five years later, in the second season of Shetland Wool Adventures 2.0—reimagined, re-engineered, and more me than ever. Smaller groups. More personal experiences. And most importantly, that spark is back—I’m genuinely excited again about what I do.

The journey here wasn’t linear. In fact, it took me in a whole different direction—starting a small publishing company, exploring other creative ideas, and eventually circling back to where it all began. Only this time, with fresh perspective and outlook.

This morning, I realised that we’re almost always standing at some kind of crossroads. The way forward is rarely easy or obvious. More often than not, it’s the path that demands the most courage—and brings the most discomfort—that leads us to the most worthwhile places.

If you’re reading this in a season of uncertainty, I hope it offers a little hope. Lean on those you trust, but also trust yourself. You know more than you think. And whatever road you choose—if it’s true to you—it will take you exactly where you’re meant to be.

Sometimes, we only realise how far we’ve come when we take a quiet moment to pause. This morning reminded me of that.

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