Last August, I was on a pilgrimage to of seven days on the Isle of Iona. This was a rare privilage for me. Since I attinend to Five Days for Spiritual Formation in 2001, I had heard some of the attendees talk about it as the highest pinnacle of their spiritual lives. I said, "Some day I will visit Iona.
My first visit was in October of 2024. We were only 3 days on the island. Being with a group was a distraction. Since then I said, I've got to return, but this time, alone, and for a longer period.
I made my decision to go in March of this year. I had my doubts. I'm 78 years old. Can I stand the rigors of travel and hiking all over the island? Can I figure out how to get there, especially the complication to get a visa to enter the UK and pulling together the reservations for four changes of transportation and having them coordinate at just the right time?
I made my pIane reservations; got my new passport in three weeks; no problem, and my UK visa in a week. My confidence that I was really going to was building.
But figuring out the reservations for ScotRail from Edinburgh to Oban on the Scottish mainland; then the first ferry crossing to Craignure on the Isle of Mull; then the bus ride across Mull to the Fionnphort ferry landing, and finally landing on Iona, was a challenge. Whew!
Now I was ready for the adventure. I scheduled my flights for two days in Edinburgh before Iona and two days after, a wise decicion because my outbound flight from Philadelphia to Edinburgh was delayed for 24 hours. How that all that happened is another story. Needless to say, the airline staff took us back to the airport, after being stuck on the plane for four hours..
Then something out of my control happened. When we were on line at the terminal to board the plane, I met a friendly couple and we started talking. When I found a y seat, I started chatting with a young woman across the aisle. She was going to Scotland to meet her Australian boyfried who was a piper. We visited some more, as our flight was delayed.
When we left the plane, it was 11:00 PM. The young woman took of on her own, while I met the friendly couple. The staff dumped us saying we were to make our own hotel reservations and they would reimbursements. After several calls, all hotels in the area were booked... except Travel Lodge with two rooms. As we walked towards the exit of the terminal, I saw the young woman sitting on a bench looking dejected. I motioned to her to join us. "We have two rooms," I said. We became a foursome. Together we would make it through.
We arrived at a Travel Lodge in an Uber. It was a dump, but we had no choice. The Mrs. with the young woman in one room and the Mr. and me in the other. At least the sheets were clean.
The next morning at the terminal we were told that our flight was a special one carrying the formally stranded passengers.
It was refreashing to back in Edinburgh, being out of my country for 10 days was like taking an ideological vacation- away from the anger and hate from the top the divided country.
It was refreshing to be surrounded by an old culture- the buildings, the parks, the traditions, and the Scottish accent (much I didn't understand, no matter).
I stayed at "the Hostel" hostel, right across the Haymarket train station. That too was an adventure. Most of the guests were young adults from all over the world. The beds were three tier bunks. I got the lowest one. I kept hitting my head on the frame.
About 18 people shared a room, men and women. Everyone was cordial and kept their belongings on their beds with no concern of being robbed. There was a communal bathroom and showers with doors with locks. A sitting room brought people together. And communal kitchen. I was given a code to enter the hostel. I felt very safe.
The next day I ventured out on my self-tour of Edinburgh taking the train from Haymarket to the Waverley station (my street at home is Waverly). Haymaket got its name in the late 18th century because of the buying and selling hay for the animals, and the name stuck.
First I had to figure out how to buy the train tickets. People noticed that I was an American and helped me out getting my tickets. Transportation is very cheap, perhaps subidized by the government.
From the Waverley station you are at the start of the Royal Mile, a mile long, stone paved pedestrian street. It ends at the Edinbrugh Castle and massive stone struckture that used be for defense. Now it is a series of military museums.
All along the Royal Mile there are dozens of shops and pubs. During my last visit, we serendipously entered the Waveley Pub, the night before we left. Our flight home was delayed for a day. Another serendipity, because if we had left earlier, we would have missed what for me was the highlight of my visit to Edinburgh.
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