Onto Iona

The day began in Troon, finishing packing and saying farewell to my temporary house of convalescence. Troon is a marvellous town, and my brother’s house and garden are well suited to healing.

It was an incredibly warm and sunny day, with the kind of summer light that seems to imbue everything with additional colour and vibrancy. The flowers and grasses, the sea and the sky, were all vivid as we drove off.

We made great time, skirting the edge of Glasgow before crossing the Erskine bridge and heading up the west side of Loch Lomond. We did our best to take photos along today’s route, although travelling by car and bus makes it more challenging! The camera’s lens also simply isn’t as good as the eye, and I strongly encourage a personal visit sometime.

Our first break, just over an hour north, was at the Inchcailloch Ferry, by Inveruglas. It sits beneath the Sloy power station, a man-made feature that dominates the northern part of the western shore of Loch Lomond. Construction began in 1945, and the workforce included prisoners of war. The power station end of the facility is fed by massive pipes running down the steep sides of Ben Vorlich, but as massive as these are, they are nothing compared to the engineering that is hidden from view. The pipes run through the mountain back to the distant Loch Sloy, and the whole arrangement is actually a hydroelectric dam.

At the rest stop below the power station, we found good facilities, and some beautiful short walking paths. If you follow them around, they will lead you to the Inveruglas Pyramid, named An Ceann Mòr (literally ‘the big promontory’), a wooden structure awarded an architecture award. The pyramid serves as a viewing platform, and a great place to eat your lunch on a good day.

We continued north past the end of the famous loch, past Crianlarich and Tyndrum, and turned west towards Oban. This beautiful road led us to the end of the first stage of our journey at the Oban Ferry Terminal, and there Sarah and I bade farewell to my Dad, and carried our backpacks off to board the ferry.

Oban is my favourite port town. It’s smaller and far more attractive than Fort William, and the hills around it are similarly smaller and more attractive than Ben Nevis. There is a fabulous fish restaurant there (which sadly we didn’t have a chance to visit on this occasion) and great public transport connections by road, rail, and sea.

Even as small as it is, the buildings of the Main Street of Oban have a great presence and plenty of architectural style, and you could be forgiven for thinking you were in the centre of Glasgow. There is also of course the wonderful folly, McCaig’s Tower, looking like a smaller Scottish version of Rome’s Colosseum.

The ferry port is in constant use to a variety of destinations, and our ferry soon came in. We sat outside on a mid-deck for the fresh air and views, enjoying the gentle crossing on a completely calm sea. The biggest waves were those made by the ferry itself, and the trip to Craignure on Mull took about 45 minutes.

Craignure is a tiny place, really serving as your kicking-off point for your visit to the island. There’s everything you need: a shop, tourist info, toilets, a couple of cafes, and a campsite; but that’s also all there is.

Our bus came and took us on the road to Fionnphort (pronounced FIN-uh-furt), a journey of about an hour an a quarter to an hour and a half, depending on how much traffic you meet and give way to on the single-track roads that dominate Mull. Despite the size of our bus (which was more like a two decked luxury coach) our friendly driver, who clearly loves her job and knows pretty much everyone on Mull, guided us skilfully along the narrow roads and passing places, never uttering a grumpy word when stopping or even reversing to a passing place to let someone by. Also, no matter how many people the bus has to stop for, the ferry people at Fionnphort know the times of the busses, and will wait for connections.

We got the last ferry of the day, 6.15pm, and made the short crossing to Iona in great excitement. Our host, Margaret, met us at the pier in her car to take us to our B&B, the Bishop’s Walk; not that it’s a long way, it isn’t. Nothing is a very long way on Iona. It’s just hospitable and meant we wouldn’t have to lug our bags the whole way. Margaret gave us a guided tour of the village as we drove through (it’s technically called Baile Mòr, which means ‘big town’ in Gaelic, but everyone calls it ‘the village) including the cafes, hotels, post office, GP surgery, shops, and of course the abbey.

I’m not going to go into detail about the abbey today: we’ll be going to services during our stay, and I’ll go into more detail then. There’s also a ruined convent, known as the nunnery.

We drove along the road, and were welcomed to our B&B, a beautiful house in a beautiful location, with beautiful views! Margaret is an excellent and friendly host, and we were soon settled in our very comfy room.

Although we packed stove and camping meals for simple self-catering options, we decided to treat ourselves (after such a long day of travel) to a restaurant meal at one of the two hotels in the village. The St Columba hotel restaurant had a table for 8.15pm, which suited us well, but I do recommend booking in advance to either place if you can. The two hotels are the only places on the island serving dinner at the moment, and they are popular with visitors and residents alike.

After a shared starter of delicious roasted wood pigeon, we both had fish: rainbow trout for Sarah and lemon sole for me. As you can probably imagine, the fish on this little Scottish island is fabulous! Quite simply the best piece of sole I have ever had.

A word also should be said of the waiting staff who looked after us: wonderful, caring, and friendly service. We’ve never before had someone offer to remove their face mask so Sarah can lip-read. It’s the little things.

As we ate, we again had lovely views. Sarah of the sea between Iona and Mull, and me of a tree in the hotel garden, populated by a family of chaffinches, and kissed by the evening summer sun. We talked of God as we sat, and the surprising way that God’s presence on the island is tangible but gentle. It’s very much in keeping with the style of the Iona Community liturgy and music, and we wondered whether that style is actually inspired by the feel of God in this liminal place.

A long day. A full day. A day that ended with reflection and rest. We’re looking forward to this stay on Iona, and already wondering when we can return.