Scotland: Mull and Iona

The next morning, we ate breakfast, the Lord of the Glens dropped lower lock-by-lock, and more rains came and went. A few daring souls watched the last lock operate, at the bottom of Neptune's Staircase.

The squall had suspended operations by the time I look this picture looking back.

Looking forward, both a highway bridge and railway bridge pulled flush to the canal walls to make way for us. The occasional roar of the bow thrusters can be heard.

There were plenty of onlookers waiting involuntarily for us to pass.

After passing into Loch Linnhe, a fjord or "sea loch", at the Corpach locks, we turned and headed the the Isle of Mull, one of the largest of the Scottish Hebridean Islands. During our sailing, I took this picture of our cabin. It's two pictures, taken from the doorway, stitched together so there may be some curvature.

It's a spacious cabin!

As we drew closer to Mull, we crossed paths with one of the MacBrayne island ferries.

There's a saying in the western Hebrides -- actually there are several phrasings, but it's the same message -- "God made heaven and earth and all that it contains, except for the western isles for they belong to macbraynes." 

As we drew closer to Mull we spied our destination for the afternoon excursion, Duart Castle. As you can see, it was breezy. And sometimes wet, and sometimes not.

We did a sail-by of the castle and then docked at Craignure, at the same pier as one of the ferries.

A short bus ride took us to Duart Castle, originally the seat of Clan MacLean. It was involved in one of the Jacobite rebellions and then confiscated by the English, and after several changes of ownership it fell into ruin. In 1911 the castle was purchased by Colonel Sir Fitzroy MacLean, the 26th Chief of Clan MacLean, and restored. As usual, interior photos are not allowed. As interesting as the objects in the castle were, I most strongly remember the fellow wearing a green jacket, positioned in the main hall/banquet room to answer questions. Joan asked how long he had been working at Duart, and it turns out that this man left Scotland in 1960 for Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe). Only two years ago he was forced to return when the Mugabe government confiscated his property. (Through confiscations and cronyism Zimbabwe's economy has become a basket case.)

I wanted to take some pictures from the roof, but it was raining too hard. Later Joan and I were able to circumambulate the castle, so I have front and back views.

As our leader, David Barnes, pointed out, "There is a tea room and a gift shop next to the castle."  This is a common architectural feature.

We had visitors after dinner, Richard and Sue Dewar from Wings over Mull, a birds of prey and conservation center. At first, all we saw were boxes in the lounge.

Then Richard and Sue began to show us some of their birds of prey and describe their rescue and education work. First, we were introduced to a merlin, the smallest falcon.

Then there was a native of the Southwest (of North America), a Harris's Hawk. This bird is the only raptor that hunts co-operatively.

A favorite for Harry Potter fans was this snowy owl.

But the most interesting face and posture belonged to the barn owl.

Wings over Mull is clearly a labor of love, and operates on a shoestring. Joan and I contributed to the donation box set out for the guests.

The next day was our big excursion to Iona. The island of Iona is only about five miles square, but it is steeped in history and religious significance. To get there, we took a bus to the ferry at Fionnphort, with a continuing narrative from our driver, Steve. (This photo is violating chronological order a bit, but we're among friends here.)

Steve's commentaries were lively, educated, and spot-on. It was unstated but apparent that Steve was a bus driver on Mull not because he was a bus driver, but because he wanted to live on Mull. Nowhere else did we hear Scottish tourism described as a "tartan theme park."

There was construction on the single-track road to Fionnphort. Our leaders kept their outward cool as we made the ferry with five minutes to spare. Strong winds out of the west had been building since the previous evening, but the ferrymen (and ferrywomen) knew their stuff, and were still sailing. Here, we are midway through the short ride.

After a short ride we approached the landing at Iona.

Then we were ashore. In 563 CE Saint Columba, fleeing Ireland, came to Iona with 12 disciples and converted the local Picts to Christianity. Iona became the center from which Christianity radiated through England and Scotland. The Book of Kells was composed here, then taken to Ireland for safety from Viking raids around 806. (The Book currently resides at Trinity College, Dublin.) More than fifty Scottish, Irish, and Norwegian kings are said to be buried here, including Duncan and MacBeth.

To quote the abbey guide quoting Dr. Samuel Johnson, "That man is little to be envied, whose patriotism would not gain force upon the plain of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer among the ruins of Iona."

Because we had enjoyed a dry ferry ride, a squall blew in as we disembarked. Thus, I don't have any pictures of the ruins of a 13th Century nunnery, but I do have images of the tiny chapel dedicated to St. Oran, a hermit already living on the island when St. Columba arrived.

The center of the island is the great medieval abbey, now almost completely restored.

Here, photographs of the interior were allowed!

A closeup of the altar area.

The tomb of the eighth Duke of Argyll, who began the restoration of the cathedral and rehabilitation of Iona's reputation, is in one alcove. His duchess is here too, but she doesn't get much billing.

Informative plaques abound on the walls of the adjacent cloister.

The cloister's walkway pillars are carved with plants and animals.

There is a modern statue in the center of the cloister which isn't mentioned in our official souvenir guide. If my memory is functioning today, the sculptor is a Holocaust survivor.

There were other small museums and nooks and crannies to explore on the abbey grounds, but Joan and I decided it was time to walk. In the next picture you can see a retreat center in the foreground, and the channel separating Iona from the Mull. The small black object at the foot of the town on the far shore is the ferry.

Sometimes even the livestock on Iona reveal a contemplative bent.

We had a few minutes to spare before the arrival of the return ferry, and walked past the shops clustered about the landing. Near a rocky beach a Celtic cross had been raised, one of the memorials to the fallen of World War I that are omnipresent in Scotland, planted in every village and crossroads. (At one point we learned that Great Britain suffered five times as many casualties in World War I as in the Second World War.)

Then our ferry came in. The breeze had not let up.

The bus ride back to the ship took us through the high hills and glens of Mull, but we ended up at the main town of Tobermory, to which the Lord of the Glens had sailed during our excursion. Many boats were in the harbor, and we heard that several days of westerly winds had created strong Atlantic swells to challenge anybody who sailed out of the lee of the islands.

Our ship was docked next to the main line of businesses. A chocolate shop was not far away.

It may have been that evening, or perhaps not, that Ian Bullock treated us to a dramatic reading of Mull Weather, a poem written by 'a summer visitor' and first published in the Oban Times.

It rained and rained and rained and rained

The average was well maintained

And when our fields were simply bogs
It started raining cats and dogs
After a drought of half an hour
There came a most refreshing shower
And then the queerest thing of all
A gentle rain began to fall

Next day 'twas pretty fairly dry
Save for a deluge from the sky
This wetted people to the skin
But after that more rain set in
We wondered what's the next we'd get
As sure as fate we got more wet
But soon we'll have a change again
And we shall have 
A drop of rain

The ship's captain and leader David explained that because of the sea conditions we would remain in Tobermory for another day instead of sailing out to the small but exposed islands of Eigg and Rum. It would turn out well.