Honeymoon Roundup - Mull, Staffa, and Iona

We woke up early on this day for a 6:30am departure dictated by the ferry schedule. Luckily, our bodies were confused into submission by the time change as it was, so we felt pretty bright-eyed all things considered. Everyone loaded onto the bus, unloaded at the ferry station, loaded onto the ferry to Mull, re-loaded onto the bus (which had also taken the ferry), drove across Mull, and took another variety of ferries to Staffa and Iona (plus did it all again backwards).

Since we were basically using the island of Mull as a thoroughfare, the main highlight was seeing some hairy coos! We interrupted some of their PG-13 behavior, certainly not the subject of a picturesque Scottish calendar, but it did make us all laugh across the cultures.


These cows are a traditional highland breed that have very little fat, and so the famous hair is what keeps them warm. They didn't particularly enjoy this convoy of paparazzi, so after the herd sauntered away, we pressed on. This brought us to the port at Mull, where one might catch a ferry to Iona or Staffa. The latter was billed as an optional boat trip for this tour without much fanfare. However, once I heard that the tiny island housed puffins this time of year, I was sold. I always thought of puffins as a very exotic type of bird, and now I'd get to frolic among them! We bypassed the commercial ferry and hopped on the Staffa Tours wooden boat a few minutes later. For the next 45 minutes, we peppered the crew with questions about island history, they pointed out different bird species that zipped along the waters, we slowly floated past a sunbathing seal (looking confused by his sudden stardom), and chased a pod of jumping dolphins.

As we approached Staffa, we learned about how its unique hexagonal column rocks were created under pressure and how they break off at varying points. The whole base of the island is built on this highly textured form until the top gives way to soft green grasses and tiny wildflowers. It is a sight to behold.









On one end of the island is what it is most famous for - Fingal's Cave. This cave does not have the traditional stalactites and stalagmites of my childhood field trips, but rather is made out of the same hexagonal columns, which allow for an undulating perched walkway along the sides and above where the water enters. It is a geological wonder.



After climbing a narrow and very steep set of stairs, we arrived at the island's surface, with gently rolling hills and a well-worn dirt path that led to the other end of the island.
It was blessedly wild, free from any buildings that I could see.

 It was completely invigorating to be up there, feeling the sea breeze, and though it was a tiny spot far from everything, there was no loneliness. We took the path quickly, in a hurry to see the puffins that had been flying to feed their babies as we approached the island. Here is a fun fact about puffins:
they love humans! Seagulls attack the puffins, and so when the humans come and chase the seagulls away, the puffins know that it is safe to come and tend to their chicks on land. As I approached the cliff edge of the island, there were multitudes of puffins coming and going to fish and feed, or simply standing around seeming to socialize. They occasionally toddled up with flappy feet to one of the nearby photographers to take a curious closer look. It was a moment of effortless, peaceful joy.
 

 

As we left the island to set off for Iona, a sailboat made for a picturesque goodbye. The ride back was a bit less exciting, but I did get a chance to ask the captain about some family history questions I had. Since Iona is said to be where my ancestors are buried, I asked what he knew about King Kenneth and his clan. It was too long ago for him to know much about what became of the family, but he had some guesses as to where they may have lived. Unfortunately we weren't going in the direction of that castle, but it was fun to sleuth.



Iona herself welcomed us with turquoise crystal waters and bright white cottages.

    

This island houses the history of Christianity in Scotland, evident in its nunnery, abbey, and profusion of Celtic crosses. While its populace makes Iona less tranquil than wild Staffa, the whole feeling of the place was joyful.
Maybe it was because the sun was shining, or maybe it was anticipation of being where my ancestors lay, but I just felt happy to be there. There are about two main roads on Iona that run parallel to each other, and two smaller ones that connect them. It's safe to say that even if you took a wrong turn, you'd end up where you started. From the ferry port, you come upon the nunnery first. Its remaining walls are made of gray and pinkish stone, and though it's lacking in many amenities at this point in its life, it maintains a central courtyard with flowers and a stone bench.
Continue past the nunnery, make a right, and you'll soon be on the path to the Abbey, passing Celtic crosses and wildflowers along the way.

 
Before reaching the Abbey is the walled graveyard. Many old gravestones grow moss here and mark their occupants with varying degrees of legibility. Several years prior to this trip to Scotland, my mother had spent countless hours researching one of her specific branches on the family tree. This branch led its way back to 810 A.D. (or C.E. if you're fancy) and King Kenneth MacAlpin, my 38th great-grandfather. The story of King Kenneth is one that is part fact, part myth, and part lost to history. Though the means by which he accomplished this are debated, it is generally agreed that Kenneth united the conflicting tribes and became the first king of Scots. His line created a number of royal members who solidified this union between the Picts and Gaels, and even Queen Elizabeth II is descended from him. My journey to Iona, then, was one to our beginnings. In an hour's time, I wanted to find out what I could about the kings and their historical burial place on Iona. One of the staff told me that the big grassy mound in the graveyard was thought to be where many of the kings were buried. It is at the top of the graveyard, and the rest of the land slopes gently downward, looking out to sea. What a spectacular gift to reach this place.

The Abbey has been well-kept, and the sanctuary within was still in use. While we were there, they announced a service being held for world peace. It was a lovely, tranquil place, with a columns bordering an internal courtyard, open to the rain while we walked the perimeter. I had taken the device for the audio tour but didn't wind up listening to any of it. All I wanted to do was feel as much of the place as possible, and try to capture it in pictures.