A Holy Island Pilgrimage

An account of a weekend spent on the Holy Island of Lindisfarne....




Back last evening from a very enjoyable long weekend break at the Holy Island of Lindisfarne. Feeling very relaxed but a bit tired after a lot of unaccustomed exercise, and the stimulating and lively company of 10 adults and 19 children, from our parish church.

Holy Island has long been a favourite spot for a good long run out from the City, 50 or so miles to the North and set in lovely, tranquil scenery. Because of the tidal restrictions with the causeway closed twice in every 24 hours, this has always been a "Day Trip" excursion, so when last year the notice of a long weekend came up, we were first to put our names down.

We invited my cousin Helen, who was widowed last year. She has a large family and is well supported by them, but needed a bit of a break from the daily round and the stimulation of others to ease her from her grief. She literally blossomed over the weekend, and kept us two company when the younger element hared off on more adventurous pursuits.

Our accommodation was the Saint Vincent de Paul "Ozanam" Centre, basic and a bit Spartan, but perfectly adequate and in the main, quite comfortable. Being easily the oldest, we 3 were feted and allocated twin and single rooms respectively. The layout was "Cloister like" with the rooms and connecting corridors forming a square. Dot, ("Dorothea") our organiser, quietly moved the groups of children who had "bagsied" the rooms on either side of us, to help keep the noise levels in check. The Centre's lady in charge, Sr.Josepha, gave us a welcoming talk, outlining the "Do's and Don'ts" for a safe holiday. When she got to the bit where "Swinging from the roof beams was not allowed", everyone looked at us 3 'oldies' and general merriment broke out! That set the tone for the rest of the holiday and groups of children would warn us daily about the dangers of swinging from the beams!

After a packed lunch which we had been advised to bring, the first organised ramble to the dunes was soon under way. Before we left,however, the "Country side Code" ( Take only photos, leave only footprints) was stressed and each child given a number on leaving the Centre and had to answer to that number at the various "head counts" during and after each stage of the afternoon's activities. With the children's ages ranging from 8 to 18yrs, it was quite an eclectic group, but as most were related to each other the natural big brother / sister care took over, helping the group leaders Julie,Lawrie, Sean, Dot, John and Carolyn, to keep the party together and prevent stragglers from getting lost.

The only thing which could not be planned for was of course the weather. It could easily be summed up as "Cold and Grey" with the North East Coast in, its 5th day of a total 10/10ths cover of sea fret, propelled by a strong East wind. But we were well wrapped up ( with notable exceptions of two of the more hardy breed of teenagers) against the worst the the weather could throw at us and luckily the rain kept away. Walking boots were the favourite amongst the adults, but a lot of the girls were shod in Wellies which seem to be produced today in a riot of glorious colours.





Once on the beach, the wellies and other footwear were quickly abandoned and 'The Great Sand Castle Competition' began. As I have no family connections in the parish, I was a true "independent" and was asked to adjudicate on the creations which were going up at great pace around me. Without showing fear or favour, but allowing the fact to escape that I could be bought, if only they could all come up with a decent single malt, I applied myself diligently to the task . Sadly there were no offers of a 'bung', although Sean did venture the opinion that I may become incorporated into the beach scenery, if certain favours were not forthcoming!



The older boys literally threw themselves into their sand sculpture. It started out with epic proportions and at one time the casual observer could be forgiven on assuming that this was the Northern entrance to the Channel Tunnel! Owen took a bearing on what turned out to be the far off figure of Lawrie who was rock hunting in the shallows, and was soon several feet down. Opposite him, Thomas took a 180 degree back bearing and the race to link up a tunnel was under way

I left them to their labours and took the opportunity to wander up the other end of the beach, to check on mesdames Helen and Marjorie, who had declined to descend and preferred to sit at the top of the cliff and smile benevolently upon the scene of frenzied activity below.

Upon my return the boys had suffered a mini catastrophe! Tunnel cave in had occurred when Owen's original bearing on Lawrie turned out to be movable and he changed the angle of attack of his face work. OR, was it that Rachel had stumbled (accidentally of course!) on the top of the project, bringing down the roof. The Board of Enquiry which was convened quickly exonerated Rachel of all blame, but for her penance she had to suggest what the boys could turn their ruined tunnel into. The result is shown in one of my many pics which can be seen here.




........ Now we've heard of Medieval burial grounds but this one was bang up to date! For shame Rachel!


A Torchlight Ramble was next on the agenda and with everyone grasping a multi various collection of electric illuminants (some with a wind up rechargeable batteries), we set off towards the old Missionaries Causeway in the gathering gloom. This original track, which is picked out with a long row of poles stretching across the sands into the West, was used by the missionaries and early Island inhabitants long before the modern road, was built on a higher elevation. By the time we got down to wet sand and sea weed, it was "Black Dark" and the torches became vital. The tide was just on the turn, "Slack water" having been reached about an hour before our arrival. Groups of welly booted children splashed about in the inch or so of water, and it was less than 30 minutes before Lawrie blew on his whistle to shepherd all the excited children back on to comparatively dry land once more The necessary head count took place once we had gained the modern roadway, and with flashing torches, we set off back to the SVP Centre and hot mugs of cocoa / Horlicks all round. Julie was "Duty House Mother" and went round all the rooms checking that all was in order and that everyone was tucked up for the night.

The "boys" led by Sean and Lawrie sidled out of a side door and were later to be found by John and I, actually imbibing strong likker and a place called a "Public House". Expressing our shock and horror at this disgraceful behaviour took John and I all of 3 seconds, and then we were told that the next round was on us! Sr. Josepha had said that 'Lights Out' for adults was to be at 11.30 so we made haste to keep on the good side of the good Sister!

The children had other ideas and a "Midnight feast" was in full swing!
Bottles of 'Pop' and choccy bars were being scoffed and the popping of blown up crisp packets was at full throttle! It was nearly 12.30 when the noise eased off and we could get some rest!

Saturday morning dawned with the same grey overcast but most of the children and all of the adults seemed to have benefited from a good night's sleep and no one seemed to mind the cool weather. Breakfast was served, with the usual cereals etc, and then to cheers from the Ex- Forces amongst us Sr Josepha started ladling out baked beans to go with the sausage , egg and bacon! Toned down for the children and the good sister, the old marching chorus of...

"Oh the Navy Gets the Gravy
But the Army Gets the Beans!
Beans Beans Beans!
Nothing but Beans!"

... made for much merriment amongst the children.


By 10 .30 all were assembled in the dining hall and Dot gave the itinerary for a walk to the opposite end of the Island. Carrying the very well labelled packed lunches , Tuna & Mayo, Cheese Savoury, and even a "Nut allergy" and Vegetarian option, the essential "Numbering" took place on exit from the Dining hall . Marjorie had to be restrained by Helen on her exit and told that " No dear, this isn't an audition for Mamma Mia!" (Poor old thing, she doesn't get out much you know!)

The morning's route took us past our night time rambles and it was fascinating to see just how far we'd walked, before the now retreating tide had washed our footprints away. Turning sharp right of the main causeway brought us to a farm track headed due North, with our destination the ancient ruins of a Saxon Village "Greenshiel" (See photo of plaque), situated at about 3 miles to our front. Lawrie, John and I set a fairly gentle pace and Helen, Marjorie and Sean in his fluorescent tabard brought up the rear. Stopping for a breather, Sean pointed out a Lark on its busy flight. All except me could clearly hear its high pitched twitter, and this was the first time an old "townie" like me had ever witnessed such a rare sight.

I apologise for the tiny photos shown here, but "Blogspot" seems to be having a few techie troubles in the photo sizing department. I will wait patiently for the next 3 seconds for signs of improvement then seek an alternative host site.

Photos here.....

http://picasaweb.google.es/abueloeddie/AHolyIslandWeekend?authkey=Gv1sRgCNyzkcipnrCYtQE#