The Sacred Isle

The Island of Iona, a tiny spot of land just off-shore from the much bigger island of Mull on the west coast of Scotland, is one of those places that has called to Bruce and me for years.  Known as a sacred place, it has a mystical, spiritual, historical reputation as the site of early Celtic Christianity.  In 563 AD St. Columba arrived there from Ireland to introduce Christianity to the Scots and to Europe.  It’s where the beautiful Book of Kells was written.  In more modern times, it’s where Rev. Bobby Ives, of the Carpenter’s Boat Shop in South Bristol, Maine, became a member of the Iona Community, an ecumenical effort for peace and progressive Christianity.  And Dori and Dan’s Scottish brother-in-law, Rev. Erik Cramb, has had a nearly 50 year association with the Iona Community.  Erik and his wife, Elizabeth, Dan’s sister, joined us for this part of our Scotland tour.  

We awoke to snow that first morning in Crianlarich, where I left off in my story.  Dori and I felt so lucky to have dodged the bullet on that one for our hike on the West Highland Way the previous day.  The four of us drove west, farther into the highlands, through majestic snowy scenery, to the coastal town of Oban.  Gradually the snow disappeared from all but the tops of mountains.  In Oban, we met Erik and Elizabeth and, under the most perfect complete rainbow, took a car ferry to the island of Mull.  Just before we arrived, the ship steamed past the MacLean clan’s Duart Castle, positioned on a strategic point of land on Mull. 

Snowy cloudy highland forest

Misty Duart Castle, Seat of the MacLean clan

From here we drove the 20 miles to the southern tip of Mull and the tiny settlement of Fionnphort. The scenery along this route was mountainous and sweeping and grand – and elicited a whole new set of superlatives.  The sky was moody with shifting dark and light, creating constantly new vistas.  On the narrow, one-track road, Bruce began to pull over for photos without request!

At Fionnphort we left our silvery Mercedes behind, as required, and boarded yet another ferry for the 15 minute hop over to Iona.  We had forgotten to pare down our stuff and so dragged all our year-long belongings behind us – and ON us - as we made our way to our cottage on the island where Dori, Dan, Eric, and Elizabeth had stayed 6 years ago.  It was a beautiful three bedroom home, looking out on the ocean, with sun pouring in from all angles: my kind of place!  And, in a giant coincidence, we discovered from the guest book, that a friend of ours, a member of our church in Gorham and a Maine Dept. of Human Services co-worker from 40 years ago, had also stayed there just last fall!

                                                  Scene from our bedroom window

We were exceptionally lucky with the unpredictable Scottish weather, and our 3-day experience on the island was lovely. In addition to the famous abbey, there is a quaint little village with a school, a post office, a couple of small hotels, a great little grocery. There are potters and other crafts artists. Farmers still raise sheep and cattle on the island.

While there, Bruce and I walked a couple of the island beaches, over fields that fell steeply to the sea, sheltering momma sheep and babies.  We explored the ruins of religious buildings from times so long ago, as well as the beautiful abbey itself, now restored and serving as a place of worship for groups who come to the island for classes and spiritual renewal - or for travelers such as ourselves.  Dori and I had tea and scones in a hotel sunroom looking out on the sea.  Bruce and Dan had Guinness in a bar looking out on the sea!  Dori and I combed the graveyard where Norse kings and Scottish kings and French kings had been buried beside fishermen, soldiers, wives, mothers, and many young children.  Tall, Celtic stone crosses lined the old, old walkway.  The MacLean cross had stood sentinel since the 1400’s!  

                                                             MacLean Cross

Church services were held twice a day, in the morning and evening.  All of us attended several services at various times.  The most moving church service was communion on our last evening.  The ancient stone sanctuary was lit with many candles, while a long table was arranged down the center aisle, set with a simple white tablecloth and seashells, and around which sat those congregants facing it in the first row of seats.  A common cup (with a small wiping cloth) and a loaf of bread were passed from person to person.  The young piano player’s music at this point seemed extemporaneous, rising and falling in a rush of clear sweet notes.  Afterward, the passing of the peace among the worshippers felt warm and sincere.  Although it was a short service, by the time it ended, the hour was nearing 10pm.  We left the abbey and walked back to the cottage in the chilly moist night air.  It was a perfect way to conclude our visit to this special isle.

                                                          Iona Abbey 

                                       Our group as we were waiting to leave Iona