Fiona on Iona: a journey to the Inner Hebrides
This August, I travelled to Iona, an island in the Inner Hebrides off the western coast of Scotland. People have been making pilgrimages to Iona for centuries, from the early middle ages onwards.
Famously, St Columba sailed from Ireland to Iona in 563, with 12 companions in a ‘curragh’, also known as a coracle. This is a lightweight sturdy vessel that used animal hides stretched over a wooden framework. He founded the monastery on Iona on the site where the current abbey still stands.
This coracle, made by Paul Heppleston, is on display in Iona Abbey
I find coracles fascinating, particularly the type of one-person vessel seen here. I think it’s to do with the sheer nerve and bravado of taking to the water in something that’s the shape of half a walnut shell and not much bigger.
Next to this tiny boat is a rather beautiful description. “In one regard, you can think of a coracle as a fragile island of peace and security on stormy waves in a troubled world.”
I’m not sure how secure I’d feel in a coracle in a storm, but still.
My ‘pilgrimage’ to Iona
I didn’t row across the Atlantic in a coracle to reach Iona. Instead, I travelled by train, bus and ferry, leaving London on Friday morning and arriving on Iona the following afternoon. I caught a train from London to Glasgow, walked ten minutes from Glasgow Central station to Glasgow Queen Street, and took a three-hour train on the West Highland line to Oban.
This is known as one of the world’s most scenic trainlines. It travels past endless lochs (including Loch Lomond and Loch Awe) and the occasional castle (look out for Kilchurn Castle just beyond Dalmally), with stunning backdrops of forests and mountains. In our carriage, we had added entertainment from a Norwegian Forest Cat on a lead, which occasionally prowled around, under and over seats.
I stayed overnight in Oban and took the first ferry to Mull the next morning. On the boat, I met Mary and Ruth, who were travelling to Iona to spend a week at the Abbey. Iona Abbey runs retreats, where people can take part in the spiritual side of abbey life as well as supporting the community by gardening, cooking or cleaning.
I heard folk duo Rachel and Holli play this haunting song at a gig at the village hall on Iona
Gory bus stories
When we arrived on Mull, we took a bus across the island to another port, (pronounced ‘Finnafort’). We were heading away from Tobermory, the main town on the island that inspired the Balamory children’s series. On this tourist bus, a disembodied female voice treated us to a series of stories about the island’s history.
They’ve all blended into one blood-flecked stream in my memory, but I think we heard of an ancient warrior who was decapitated while riding a horse, which galloped off with the unfortunate headless man still in the saddle.
In the late 16th century, we heard, Dr John Beaton was a famous physician on the Isle of Mull. The king of Scotland tested all of the country’s best doctors by feigning an illness. Dr Beaton was the only one who correctly said there was nothing wrong with him. The king declared Dr Beaton the best doctor in Scotland, but it ended badly for the good doctor as his rivals poisoned him while he was travelling back to Mull.
My favourite story, though, was of the underwater zig zag steps. The voice pointed out a loch to our left, with a tiny island in the middle. She told us that, centuries ago, natives of Mull would outwit invading marauders by walking across secret submerged steps beneath the water, to reach safety on the island. The hostile forces wouldn’t be able to follow them because the stones were in a zig zag formation and only the islanders knew exactly where they were.
Arriving on Iona
After an hour or so’s bus ride listening to these stories, it was a relief to board the ferry at
A window looking out of the ‘mediaeval ticket office’ at Iona Abbey
From the port, you follow the road as it rises gently upwards, past some excellent craft and wool shops, through the abandoned and crumbling nunnery and along to the Abbey. During the two days I stayed on the island, I watched a constant stream of people disembarking from the boat and walking that well-trodden path, following in the footsteps of people who have visited the island over the centuries.
My first impression of Iona was of a very special, tranquil place. Just three miles long by one mile wide, it’s dominated by the Abbey, which sits across the water from Mull.
St Columba’s writing hut
When you walk into the Abbey’s grounds, on the left, you see a hillock. Apparently, St Columba used to have his writing hut here. I clambered up the stepping stones, tufts of grass underfoot, as the wind whipped up around me, and imagined what it would have been like to write on top of that small hill. What a view! The Abbey is right there in front of you, with a huge open sky, the sea and Mull beyond.
View of Iona Abbey from the hillock where St Columba had his writing hut
The Abbey has been through many iterations since the original Benedictine church was built around 1200. It was enlarged over the years, became derelict after the Reformation of 1560, and was restored to new life in the 20th century.
I particularly enjoyed seeing a Mediaeval ticket office, a tiny circular room up some stairs by the front door of the Abbey. Apparently, people would look out from the window there, spot pilgrims about to arrive, then rush down to welcome them (and presumably ask for offerings to support the church).
A map of secret places
Because the island’s so tiny, it was easy to get to know other visitors. Iona has a very friendly vibe. A man from Pennsylvania kindly drew me this map of the island, which shows a couple of highlights that it would be easy to miss.
A fellow visitor drew this map of Iona for me
Spot the secret beach on the North West of the island, just around the corner from the better known White Strand of the Monks.
Over on the South of the island, he’s marked the beach to the East of St Columba’s Bay, where the saint allegedly landed in his curragh in 563.
This, he says, is where you can find St Columba’s tears, the translucent green pebbles that are meant to protect you from drowning. Legend says you should take two pebbles, throw one in the sea to represent what you’re leaving behind and carry one with you, to symbolise a new beginning or a new commitment.
Many of the people I met seemed to have travelled to Iona to seek some kind of fresh start, whether it was after a divorce, a bereavement or retirement. Perhaps they all went to that beach to look for their own pair of St Columba’s tears pebbles.
The Bay at the Back of Beyond
Joyously, one of the best known beaches to the West of Iona is called the Bay at the Back of the Ocean. It’s commonly called the Bay at the Back of Beyond.
I went for a swim there with my new friend, Mary. It wasn’t the coldest water I’ve ever swum in, but it was brisk enough. We swam as far as a fishing boat moored in the middle of the bay, then skedaddled back in to shiver and congratulate ourselves on braving the Atlantic waters.
Not chilly at all. Positively tropical.
On the way back, we stopped by a crossroads next to a field dedicated to corncrakes, which are on the Red list of birds of high conservation concern due to major declines in their population. It was good to hear that the field provides cover for corncrakes so they can live and breed in peace on the island. The number of calling males on Iona has risen from a low of two in the early 90s to between 20 and 30 today.
This reminded me of interviewing Amy Liptrot at Glastonbury about her book, The Outrun. In it, she writes about her work as the RSPB’s corncrake officer on Orkney, where she used to venture out at night in search of this endangered bird, which is largely nocturnal.
Where to stay on Iona?
The view from my room at the St Columba Hotel, Iona
Some people I met stayed at the Abbey as part of a retreat, some camped, while others stayed in bed and breakfasts or in eco pods towards the North of the island.
I stayed at the St Columba Hotel, which was small and luxurious, without being ridiculously expensive. It has an amazing lounge area with floor to ceiling windows where you can sit and read a book, looking out across the sea to Mull. They’ll bring you coffee or a whisky and you wonder why you’d ever want to be anywhere else. If I’d had my harp with me, perhaps I’d still be there.
More
- Discover my writing training workshops
- Interviewing Amy Liptrot at Glastonbury
- A visit to a watercress farm in the family