A prayer of St Columba

My dearest Lord,

Be thou a bright flame before me, Be thou a guiding star above me,

Be thou a smooth path beneath me, Be thou a kindly shepherd behind me,

Today and evermore.

Getting there was quite an undertaking – two trains, two ferries and a coach! I left Preston at 8.45 am and nine and a half hours later I was towing my suitcase up the slipway from the ferry in the early evening sunshine – journey’s end – Columba’s isle – Iona!

The following evening, after a day spent among the birds of the Treshnish Islands, I walked up to the Abbey for the evening service. Arriving early, I passed the time reading the Iona Community Worship Book and here came across the details of the Iona Pilgrimage. This takes place once a week and is led by members of the Iona Community, taking the form of a trek around the island visiting religious sites and places associated with Saint Columba.

Next morning, in glorious sunshine, we assembled at the Abbey at the foot of St Martin’s Cross, one of Iona’s High Crosses and still standing where it was first erected over a thousand years ago. It is dedicated to St Martin of Tours who from the earliest times had been revered by succeeding monastic communities on the island. The leaders of our pilgrimage, Joss and Brian, greeted us and outlined the nature of our journey. It would cover about six and a half miles, over a moorland and down to the sea, stopping at selected sites for prayers, songs and reflections. We were encouraged to mix and share our experiences. There were about sixty of us: the majority were staying at the Abbey (temporary members of the Community). I counted at least ten different nationalities – we were, indeed international as well as ecumenical.

Joss began our pilgrimage with the prayer of St Columba. Our first port of call was at the nearby ruins of the Augustinian nunnery. These are very beautiful - the stone is a mixture of pink granite, yellow sandstone and grey flagstone and in the sunshine it sparkles. The nunnery was founded by Reginald, the son of the Scottish hero Somerled, founder of the dynasty known as the Lords of the Isles and the scourge of the Norsemen… Built in the 1200’s the first prioress was Reginald’s sister Beathag. Here we reflected upon the role of women in the Christian church down the years.

We moved on out of the village taking the road leading to the crossroads known as the Four Roads. We stopped and looked down across the fields to the War Memorial which stands overlooking a peaceful stretch of golden sand. This has long been associated with death and is called Port Nam Mairtear (Martyrs’ Bay). Here, it is believed, was once a massacre of monks from the Abbey during the time of the Viking raids. At the head of the bay is a grassy mound, An Ealadh, and here were rested the coffins of kings and chieftains on their journey along the Street of the Dead to the Reilig Odhrain (the abbey’s graveyard). After prayers for those who have suffered as a result of warfare, we were asked to continue on in silence and reflect upon man’s inhumanity.

Our third stop was at the crossroads (The Four Roads) and Brian told us that from hence the way would be harder as we took to the moorland. We walked on along a narrow track that twisted through outcrops towards the southern end of the island. The track wound in and out of small hillocks among wild flowers. Bees hummed, birds sang, and on a nearby mound we heard, and later spotted, a cuckoo. We turned south east towards the abandoned marble quarry which is tucked in among the cliffs. From here came the huge piece of green-veined marble that became the altar table in the abbey. Returning to the main track we then continued our way to the sea – to the Bay of the Coracle. Here Columba landed with his followers in their coracle in 563, which must have been no mean feat. Later in the week I was told by a boatman that this bay is the most dangerous landing site in Iona. On the beach are several cairns of stones, some of which are very old. We were asked to pick up two pebbles from the beach and to place one on a cairn as an act of devotion and to carry the other home in memory of the pilgrimage and a symbol of our lives’ journeys from that point on. We then retired to a small hillock above the bay for a short lunch stop and prayers before retracing our steps back across the moorland to Loch Staonaig, once the main supply of fresh water to the island. Latterly, owing to increased usage, water has to be pumped over from Mull. Joss reminded us that water is one of the most precious of God’s resources.

Our next destination was the Machair.This is the Gaelic name for the beautiful green turf, dotted with wild flowers, which stretches down to the sand and to the Bay at the Back of the Ocean (a lovely name for a lovely place). By now we were beginning to feel weary and the Iona Community performed a truly Christian act. Through the gate, onto the Machair, came their van and from it cups of tea and flapjack were distributed. After our prayers and further reflections, those pilgrims who were finding the going too hard were offered a lift back – an offer which was politely declined by all! It was then onward and upward – across the machair, past the intimidating bulk of Dun Bhuirg(site of an Iron Age hill fort) and into the hilly country. Our first stop was at the site of an old "bee-hive" hut, which was believed to have been either a hermit’s cell or a place to which the monks withdrew for prayer and solitude.

We then climbed up to the highest part of the island - Dun I. No great height, really, but at the end of a very hot day and a six miles walk, a small challenge, nevertheless. From this spot St Columba and thousands of pilgrims to the island down the years, have looked out across the sea to the island of Tiree (the land below the waves) and Coll and to Barra and South Uist. Northwards lie the Treshnish Isles and Staffa and Rhum and Eigg, and on a very clear day the Cuillins of Skye can be seen. To the south-east lie Colonsay and Oransay and beyond the hills of Jura and Islay; closer to hand the island of Mull. Our view was a little hazy so we couldn’t see and identify all the islands but the sea below us was that mixture of marble-white, through aquamarine, to cobolt blue that is the colour of Hebridean waters. After more prayers we came down onto the road and by this time we were all flagging – even the young!

Our final destination was back at the Abbey. We filed into the Reilig Oran, the graveyard of the abbey, named for one of Columba’s earliest followers, so it is said. In the graveyard stands a small chapel, St Oran’s Chapel. It is the oldest ecclesiastical building and dates back to the twelfth century. We crowded in through the narrow doorway. Inside the chapel it was dark and cool and still. Here, we held our final act of worship – a song, some prayers and Joss asked us all to reflect on what we had experienced and thanked us for our company. I found myself at the back, pressed against one of the standing grave slabs that lined the walls. It was a very welcome support and I trusted that the long dead chieftain or king (John, Lord of the Isles, perhaps – or even Macbeth, who knows?) would not begrudge a weary pilgrim her ease. At the end of the short service we returned to the sunshine, moving rather slowly now. We said our farewells and went our separate ways – the majority back to the Community but some of us to our hotels and B & B’s and one couple took the ferry back to Mull.

A few days later I left Iona and after visiting two more islands – Kerrera and Lesmore, I came home, bringing with me, as well as the pebble from the Bay of the Coracle, some wonderful memories – of the pilgrimage, the people – and the puffins? Indeed, Columba’s isle is truly "God’s own country".