Lindisfarne is a truly beautiful place and it has been an important religious center since at least 634 AD when King Oswald of Northumbria brought an Irish monk (later Saint Aiden) to establish a church and priory here. Cuthbert became prior of Lindisfarne in 665, and later bishop, until he resigned in 686 to live in his hermitage on the small island of Inner Farne.
Many people today come to Lindisfarne for religious retreats and a time for contemplation. Artists come also, as the beauty of this place is undeniable, as well as birders and other nature enthusiasts who visit the island’s sandy and rocky shores, mudflats, dunes, and meadows that provide a rich environment for nesting and migrating birds as well as other wildlife.
At breakfast today, my last morning on Lindisfarne, I had a discussion about God with the other guests at my table, all of whom are Christian and involved in church life, one as a minister. I was the only atheist in the group and was respectfully listened too. We were all earnest and good people, asking questions, sharing our experiences and understandings, and contemplating the complexities of this world and our place in it as well as the place of religion and the church in our modern world.
After breakfast, I visited the 13th century Saint Mary’s Church and arrived to hear the most beautiful singing. There was a group of devotees from Finland, here on retreat, and they were chanting with such resonance that I felt it in my body and soul.
Here are more pictures from the interior of Saint Mary’s Church, including a childrens’ corner with a child’s drawing of Saint Cuthbert and a salmon. There is a story that Saint Cuthbert was travelling with a young companion who was growing anxious about their lack of food. Saint Cuthbert told him to have more Faith, for even the eagle flying above the river might feed them if God willed it. That eagle then caught and dropped a salmon which Saint Cuthbert and his companion shared with their servant and the people of the nearest village.
The large wooden sculpture in the church, “Journey”, depicts monks carrying Saint Cuthbert’s body to safety after the Viking raids of 875. They travelled for seven years throughout southern Scotland and Northumbria, hiding for a time in Saint Cuthbert’s cave, and eventually stopping in Durham where a church and then magnificent cathedral were built.
So, a morning of conversation, contemplation, calmness, and gratitude on Lindisfarne, while yesterday was a day of pure exaltation in nature. I had woken up early and set out for a walk right after breakfast. I started by retracing my steps from my first afternoon, up and along the Heugh where I again took photos of Saint Cuthbert’s Isle, now surrounded by water, the Lindisfarne priory, the harbour beach, and a view of the castle in the morning light.
I walked to the castle, planning to tour the interior, but as I waited a few minutes for the opening time, I decided that I would really rather stay outdoors and walk and explore. I carried on around and below the castle to see the remains of 19th century lime kilns which were used to make make quicklime from limestone quarried on the north side of the island.
The path then led to a rocky beach and turned north to travel along the eastern side of the island.
Soon I reached a small lake, encircled by cattails and a tall grass with feathery plumes that waved and bent in the wind. There was a rustic bird blind, built by the Lindisfarne National Nature Reserve, and I entered it and sat quietly for a while out of the wind.
Then the path entered the grass-covered dunes.
I crossed the dunes to arrive at a beautiful curving beach with not one single person on it.
I descended to the beach and took photos looking back, and then forwards up the beach.
Little feathery swirls of wind-dried sand were blowing across the surface of the beach and made nice patterns on the leeward side of rocks and bits of drying seaweed.
I continued along the beach and was not unhappy to share it when I saw a few couples, and some happy dogs, enter the beach at the far end.
At the end of the beach I reached a section of limestone pavement, crisscrossed by fracture lines, that reminded me of the karst landscape of the Burren and Arran Islands in Ireland.
I took one last photo looking back at the wonderful beach, and then I set out on the rocks, enjoying the glimpses of small tide pools, limpets, barnacles, and seaweeds.
I took a short cut over the dune, mid-way across this point, to see another stunningly beautiful beach laid out below!
And, at the end of that beach there was a long, rocky point jutting into the sea and beyond it I could see gannets whirling and diving like rockets into the ocean! I walked to the point and then out onto its seaweed-covered rocks, getting closer to those glorious birds. But, the waves were high and strong, and the tide was on the rise, so after watching them for a while from a distance I reluctantly turned back towards the shore.
The limestone pavement continued as I walked west, such an interesting jumble of lines and shapes.
Then, another beach! This one was straight and wide and so long that I couldn’t see its end.
I was exhilarated! What a place! I walked down onto this amazing beach and then along it for about a kilometer or two. I took pictures looking forward, looking back, and looking out to sea.
Suddenly feeling tired, but very very happy, I turned towards the dunes behind me and climbed up to views of another kind of sea – a sea of dunes!
Up and down, I went along a cross-crossing and dizzying maze of trails, until I felt a small sense of disorientation and panic at one point, but that was quickly calmed when I focused closely on some pretty dune flowers.
Then, finally, I emerged from the dunes to find a path leading towards the road and then the village ahead of me, just where I thought it would be!
At the village, I ate a much-needed late lunch/early dinner at the wonderful Pilgrim’s Coffee House, where I enjoyed sitting in their walled outdoor courtyard complete with lively and charming sparrows. Then, refreshed, I was off to visit St. Cuthbert’s Priory before closing time. The late afternoon light was beautiful on the stones, and there were only a few visitors.
What a day! Thank you, to God and nature, for a glorious end to a most glorious day on the Holy Isle of Lindisfarne.
I picked up my pace but wasn’t quite fast enough! The wind grew stronger and the rain started when I was only half way to the village, which luckily wasn’t too far away! I was wearing my rain jacket so up went my hood and I arrived at my accommodation not too wet. Straight upstairs, straight into bed, and the thunder boomed again and the rain lashed against my single-pained widows. One flash of lightening, more thunder, and the rain turned to hail. This was my view, cozy from my bed.
For those walkers doing Saint Cuthbert’s Way as a pilgrimage, the cave is a very special place as it is reputed that the monks of Lindisfarne hid here in AD875, during the time of repeated Viking raids, with the body of Saint Cuthbert and other relics from the monastery at Lindisfarne in order to protect them from the invading Danes. The cave is very atmospheric upon approach, as you can see from the photos below.
I could see the beginning of the descent down to Wooler, my final destination. I sat for a long time on the edge of the path and just enjoyed the moment before beginning to head down, slowly and mindfully, very grateful for the time I had had on the moor. The descent to Wooler was longer than expected, in a good way, and very pleasant as I again began to pass along farm fields and the edges of woodland and by small valley streams.
On the way down however, I was distracted by another group of wild goats, this time a group of dark-coated bachelors. They seemed less skittish than the females and kids I had been following earlier, and those horns were quite something so I didn’t feel like trying to get too close!
