Approaching the end

Friday started out grey and drizzly, but by mid-morning the sun was in evidence. Our morning study was led by Steve W. and covered Celtic Mysticism. Steve did a wonderful job of describing mysticism, engaging us in thinking about "thin places" and how we might experience them, and sharing, from J. Philip Newell, a lament for the effects of the Synod of Whitby whereby the Celtic church and the Roman church parted ways. A rich experience that left us with much to ponder.

During the week, we've been exploring lunch options on the island. Today all twelve of us ate at The Argyll Hotel, where we had a wonderful light meal followed by a truly divine apple-rhubarb pie garnished with strawberries fresh from the Argyll's organic garden.

Afternoon pastimes included shopping, napping, and a trek by Doug and Steve H. to Dun Bhuirg, Iona's second-highest peak (at 225 feet), located near the western shore just north of the Beach at the Back of the Ocean. The views were spectacular. Of interest on Dun Bhuirg is the remains of an Iron-Age fort ("dun" means "fort") used from about 200 BCE to 200 CE, well before the arrival of Columba in 563 CE.

Coming down from the mountain, Doug and Steve walked south to Columba's Bay in hopes of finding Mermaid's Tears. Doug thought he was successful; Steve knew he was not!

Meanwhile, the shopping was evidently quite successful, as Pat arrived for dinner wearing a beautiful new necklace and earrings. We heard no report on the naps!

After supper, we attended evening worship at the Abbey Church. When we returned, we heard a sound from the meadow below the hotel garden. The sound resembles one of those twirly party noisemakers -- others have likened it to a frog's croaking. A couple from near London, also guests in the hotel, told us it was the call of a corncrake, an endangered species in the UK. It migrates here from West Africa. We learned that the bird is almost impossible to spot, though its sound is unmistakable. Through protection of its habitat on Iona (crofters are evidently paid not to cut the grass in which the bird nests), there are now six mating pairs on Iona.

At supper, talk frequently turned to the fact that tomorrow is our last day on Iona. It's been a wonderful time, and we are all reluctant to depart. We certainly hope to make the most of tomorrow!

Following the scuff marks of history

Hebrews 11:8-10, 18-16

Kate McIllhagga writes, Pilgrimage is a circular route, following the scuff marks of history. And thus our little band of 12 pilgrims sets off -- without an Abbey Guide -- to Columba Bay where the Saint landed in 563 AD. We discover that if we stay on the clearest track, where others have trod before us, we do indeed move towards our goal. Like those who went before us, some forge ahead, some hobble behind, some give a hand over the bogs and boulders, some take pictures. And thus we tread, past sheep, "Och, mind now where you step!", past a golf course!?, over pasture, past Crofters' homes, up the narrow, rocky torrent-created gullies.

Loch Staoineig, a highland lake surounded by heather and "other green stuff," glimmers beside us. Over the crest, down the treacherous rocks we trek to the southeast corner of Iona and the calm Atlantic. We are welcomed by hand-sized, smooth rocks forming crosses arranged by Pilgrims who have come before us. Some look very new. One looks old with tufts of grass poking up between the rocks with sand dusting over the top. We stand on rock spewed up from earth's core over 2.5 billion years ago. Geologist tell us this is the oldest rock on our home planet. The sun shines brilliantly. The gentle west wind brushes past. Little off-shore islands rest peacefully.

We pilgrims drift silently apart: watching, listening, sensing our environment, gathering multi-colored pebbles and rocks (yellow and rose-pink, violet and white, dove-grey) tumbled smooth by the silvery sea.

We drift together, show and share our collected pebbles and thoughts, then begin the ascent up Lag Odhar, passing again the serene Loch Staoineig, coming out on the rolling fertile green Machair, speaking to the sheep, breathing deeply, descending the track to the village and "home." Our place of departure has become our place of arrival. What has changed? We wonder. In seeking, what have we found? What will we carry back to Wisconsin with us?

Deep peace of the running wave to you
Deep peace of the flowing air to you
Deep peace of the quiet earth to you
Deep peace of the shining stars to you
Deep peace of the son of peace to you

--Robin Reed

The Island of Women

North of Fionnphort in the Sound of Iona, approximately due east of the Abbey, is a small island called The Island of Women (Eilean nam Ban). On our boat trip to Staff, David Kirkpatrick, the pilot, told us how the island came to have its name: As other settlers followed the monks to Iona, there was naturally some interaction between the monks and the other residents of the island. The Abbot noticed that the monks were increasingly distracted by the women of the island, so he had them moved across the sound to the Island of Women in order to solve the problem. It is generally held, however, that the primary effect of relocating the women was to make the monks better swimmers!

Puffin Day!

Today was Monday, which meant it was Puffin Day!

Following morning worship and brief study of the geology and wildlife of the Isle of Iona and the Isle of Staffa, we considered ourselves ready for an afternoon outing. Our weather was fabulous and, taking off jackets and putting on sunscream, we piled into a boat for Staffa, which is about 45 minutes by water from Iona.

Staffa's main attraction -- and oh, boy, is it an attraction -- is the geologic formation of its southern end. Huge pillars of black volcanic basalt stand at attention, looking like a giant pipe organ. (Mary Kay, this one's for you.) Actually enormous hexagonal crystals of basalt, these rock columns are breathtaking. Formed into them is a very large cave called Fingal's Cave, stunning in its geometric complexity, its size and its eery sounds with wind and water in the enclosed space.

But this week was also the last week of puffin season on Staffa and the birds were tough competition for Fingal's Cave. We climbed up steep stairs to get to the somewhat hilly plateau at the top of the island, then walked to the highest hill. The edges of the cliffs at this high point had many burrows dug by the puffins for their nests.

Rightfully perceiving that humans provided protection from the gulls that wanted them (and their chicks) for lunch, the puffins would come within several feet of us as we sat on the grass at the edge of the cliff. Upon our return, we shall show you some of the wonderful puffin pictures taken by Doug and Steve H. Our photographers were intrepid, relying on prayer alone to save them as they ventured close to cliff-edges. Steve W. -- one never comfortable with heights -- spent most of his time not looking at puffins, but trying to save the womenfolk by grabbing us by the arm and hauling us back to what he felt was a safe distance from the precipice. He also kept up a constant stream of muttering about Doug's apparent lack of concern for his life.

Puffins, by the way, are 10" tall and about the weight of a can of soda. They can fly 55 mph as they leap from the cliffs, dive into the water and catch small fish for their young. Dressed in their black and white tuxedo feathers, with their bright orange beaks and feet, and with their willingness to approach to very close distances, their charm is immense.

One nickname for the Arctic puffin is "little friar," a moniker assigned because of its black and white feathers, and also its habit of holding its feet together in flight as though they were praying hands. When Maureen told the pilgrims about the "little friar" nickname, some recoiled in horror. The message heard by many: "little fryer"!

Seagull escort on the way to Mull

This gull accompanied the ferry briefly as we were leaving Oban and making way to Craignure on Mull.

Ye Canna Get There Frae Here!

The final leg of our journey to Iona on Sunday began without a hitch at 9 a.m. when the charter coach picked us up on schedule in front of our hotel. The weather was all blue skies and sun, with high cirrus clouds and a pleasant breeze. Temps were in the high 40s or low 50s, and it promised to be a beautiful day. Plus, all twelve of us were on time for the bus (not always true!), our luggage all fit in the somewhat smallish compartment, there were only a few lurches and abrupt stops on the way to the terminal in Oban, it was a short walk from the bus to the ferry port, and we were early enough that there were only a few people in front of us in the queue.

Admittedly, there was a moment of panic when Jane realized that the vouchers provided by the tour company were not valid for passage on the CalMac ferry, but she quickly addressed that issue, and we were on our way to the island of Mull.

Passage to Iona from Oban involves a ferry to Craignure on the island of Mull (a few miles from Oban across the Sound of Mull), then transfer by bus down the east coast of Mull and across the Ross of Mull to Fionnphort, followed by a last, brief ferry ride from Fionnphort across the Iona.

Given the high cost of chartering a bus to carry us from Craignure to Fionnphort, we had decided to rely on public transportation. Upon arriving, however, we learned that the only bus across Mull on Sundays departed at 5 p.m.! We tried to find extra seats on a charter coach, but to no avail. Finally, the services of Jimmy Poulson (8-passenger van) and Michael Kennedy (4-passenger cab) were secured. Michael arrived first, so four of us set out with him, followed about 30 minutes later by Jimmy with the rest. Just before 1 p.m., we were all reassembled at Fionnphort with only minutes to spare before the ferry left for Iona.

Iona did not disappoint! The island is lovely, our accommodations at the St. Columba Hotel are perfect, the Abbey is striking, and the people, both visitors and permanent residents, are friendly. Can't wait to see what our week here will bring.

Weather

Well, pilgrims, it's not looking so good on the fair isle. Yahoo weather for Glasgow, and then for Iona, predicts rain pretty much every day with wind on some days! Bring your rain gear.

Introduction

From June 21 through July 5, 2006, twelve pilgrims from Wisconsin will be journeying to Scotland. The heart of the journey will be a week spent on the Isle of Iona. This blog is meant to capture highlights of our travels and reflections on our experiences.

Of the twelve participants (nine women, three men; seven clergy, five laity), seven are members of First Congregational UCC, Appleton, Wisconsin, and an eighth belongs to Zion Lutheran Church (ELCA) in Appleton. Three other pilgrims reside elsewhere in Northeast Wisconsin, and the twelfth pilgim lives across the state in River Falls.

Our agenda on Iona includes:

• Morning and evening worship at the Abbey


• Presentations and discussion about the history and natural history of the island, pre-Christian and Christian Celtic religion, and the modern Iona Community


• Participation in the Tuesday pilgrimage around Iona hosted by the Iona Community


• A trip to Staffa to visit Fingal's Cave and commune with the puffins


• Abundant free time for rest, reflection, and relaxation.