Our Pilgrimage to Iona

(Ed note: We've been moving pretty fast since we left Alicante on June 7th. We've skipped over Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Hamburg, and Amsterdam, but we really need to say something about our time on Iona, a small island off the west coast of a slightly larger island off the west coast of Scotland. We'll catch up to all the rest soon. August, maybe, when we'll have some time in London.)

Iona, a tiny isle off the west coast of Scotland, is considered the starting point for Christianity in Scotland. In the year 563 the monk Columba arrived after being exiled from his native Ireland. He put up a monastery, which proved a big hit, and their religious practices soon spread throughout what’s now Scotland and Northumbria (roughly the eastern part of the UK from Edinburgh to York, including the now-famous Lindisfarne Abbey, known as a favorite Viking pillage site). The Book of Kells was reportedly written here in the 8^th Century, but the monastery was abandoned in 849 due to continuing Viking raids and the “book” was sent to the Kells Monastery in Ireland for safe keeping. (They got to put their name on it.)

The Abbey at Iona, seen from the arriving ferry

Today it is a tranquil respite from modern life. Although heavily visited by tourists, only locals are allowed to have cars, keeping things quiet on this tiny (1.5 by 3 miles) island. As I sit writing this I am gazing over the rugged golf course, with its dips and hummocks, the calm ocean only a few hundred yards away. Hikers pass by from time to time, and sheep graze, slowly moving through my view. There’s cattle, too, over in that corner. It’s fine for the animals to be on the golf course (until one gets hit by a golf ball; then it’s time to pay up). Everybody seems to get along pretty well (although there is one noisy malcontent of a sheep out back). Iona is a place for retreat and restoration.

Houses along the shore of Iona; the island of Mull in the backgrouned

Sheep! Primary residents of Iona (plus, it's lambing season)

It’s a real treat, after our non-stop month of big cities.

Our own pilgrimage here started this morning in Oban, on the mainland (if the island of Great Britain can be considered a mainland). We had, of course, planned to come here to Iona for some time; it was part of the original plan, but the details kept changing as we explored transportation around Oban. We’d planned on leaving our rental car in Oban with our Airbnb host, taking the ferry to the island of Mull, then a bus across the island, and final short ferry ride to Iona. But eventually we decided to drive.

View of Oban from the ferry dock

The ferry to Iona arrives

Cars (and a lorry) loaded, heading to Mull

Saying goodby to Oban

That is, drive on the ferry in Oban, and drive off in Mull, then drive across the island. The schedule for the bus across Mull seemed a bit dicey (we’d end up waiting a long time for a ride), as did the arrangements for leaving the car in Oban, so driving ourselves seemed a better option. It was very exciting, driving onto the big boat with all the other cars and trucks (er, lorries). It was about a 45-minute ride, through incredibly blue waters, past incredibly green islands and an ancient castle or two. Really spectacular. Fantastic sun. (People here are blown away by the weather, two weeks without rain!)

A brief rest stop on the road to the western shore of Mull

We got off the ferry on Mull, and after an hour and a half of winding up and over and down and through the most gorgeous green countryside I’ve ever seen (sorry, Ireland!), we arrived at the ferry dock on the western side of Mull. A snack bar, a restroom, not much else there. But in the hot sun, looking at the azure water and the red shore rocks, Iona with its distinctive abbey across a narrow strait, I thought for a moment I was in Italy. Ah, but the soft Scottish burr of the people around me soon got me sorted!

Waiting for the ferry to arrive on Mull; that's Iona in the background

              The Pilgrimage Continues

Ferry ride, walking and waiting, a lift from our B&B host (also the island’s taxi driver); we get settled into our room. Big plan for the morrow: visit the abbey, which is hosting a chamber concert of music by Mendelson, among others. (It seems Mendelson visited a cave near here, so now he has a music event, the “Mendelssohn on Mull Festival,” named after him; people always want to capitalize on celebrities).

The Iona Abbey from the land side; I think that's me on the left

On our tour of the abbey we learned that in the 8^th century, after St. Columba died, Iona became a major tourist site. The isle prospered from this early tourist trade, and the monastery was started in the early 1200s. As happened with most of the religious buildings in the UK, the Reformation of the 16^th Century left the monastery in ruins. It wasn’t until the 1900 that it was restored.

The Reformation: When Henry VIII broke with the Catholics and started his own church so he could grant himself a divorce from his first wife, Catherine of Aragon.

The distinctive Celtic cross, with a circle at the intersection of the arms, decorated all over with carvings of intricate symbols and designs, is believed to have started here. Several early examples still exist, although some are in pieces! (Engineering note: the carved stone circle helped support the heavy arms, originally a structural rather than an aesthetic feature.)

Intricately carved Celtic cross, believed (by the folks on Iona) to have originated here

Early Celtic cross (12th Century?) at the Abbey (this one's a copy, the original - or pieces of it -  is in the museum)

Paula on pilgrimage

Passing a cross that other pilgrims have been passing for 500 years

After the tour we continued our pilgrimage to the north end of the island, another 20 minutes or so. The impossibly green hills complimented by the white beaches, surrounded by azure waters, with distant (and not so distant) islands – also impossibly green – was totally stunning. (I probably shouldn’t say this, but Scotland is how I expected Ireland to be…)

Paula headed back to the village to forage for dinner; I was filled with the spirit of pilgrimage and wanted to continue around the island; our B&B was within sight of the beach, and I figured I’d just head around the western shore until I got back. Turns out, it wasn’t that simple…

What with sheep fences and rocky terrain I ended climbing the steep ridge that runs along the northern part of the island. After climbing over several more fences and trudging through bog areas that were, fortunately, dry after the long drought, I made it back to the main road, right near the abbey. I sat, sipping a cool drink, contemplating the abbey’s ancient stones. This is where my “pilgrimage” took me: back to the abbey.

I felt my return to this sacred spot was significant, and a sign…

Mostly, though, I was disappointed that I didn’t end where I wanted to (ever practical, I am). Still, it was satisfying to have made the effort, and another 20 minutes on the road and I was back at our B&B.

View from the high and wide windows of our B&B -- yes, cattle on the golf course!

Rocky terrain of Iona