A pilgrimage in search of a burger

I was understandably unenthusiastic about joining the christians on their Hajj to Iona after  recently watching and groaning my through The Way starring Martin Sheen.

If you have any inkling to walk to Santiago de Compostela, see that film and leave the shell on the beach.

The first trip to Iona was aborted at Fionnphort as the skipper feared the shipping forecast which predicted putting in a full day's work. You just don't get that reluctance on the IoW Red Funnel do you?

I was shocked to find mobile signal had come to Iona and missed Mull, so I immediately declared a miracle for consideration by the Vatican.

I am missing mobile far more than a flush toilet without traces of sawdust on the seat.

Everyone piled off the ferry disappeared into a mandatory gift shop, abbey, church or Spar leaving me to have my first spiritual moment alone with my mobile to say hi to my daughter.

I did the obligatory circuit of thousand year old Celtic crosses, monasteries and churches whilst avoiding conversation with anyone likely to share their rapture or speak in tongues.

I suspect I was a mountain goat in a previous life as I legged it quickly up the side of Dùn Ì to get spectacular views over the island.  No obvious sign of paths but time was on my side to exit down the other side to improvise a way back over barbed wire fences.

Having eaten so healthily for so many days in a row, I was driven to hunt down some unhealthy food and succeeded by sharing the love by paying £10 for an inorganic beef burger and fries.

This may be Scottish beef and BSE free but that is a heck of a markup in the name of the Lord and Caesar.

In the end I only had three hours on the island to find god and failed miserably. It is a beautiful island, particularly if you like all your crosses Celtic.

My personal Damascus  came with a vision of  a distant pub spotted from a hillside and quickened my pace.

Now I have been very good on Erraid, in fact totally dry if you exclude alcohol by osmosis from the Geordie fumes opposite.

I admit I did say a silent godless prayer of thank-you this afternoon to a cold cool pint of 80/-, but I can live with letting the side down in this moment of weakness.

Btw -  for those of you with amnesia before February 1971 that's 80 shilling - so praise be and that granite statue is called Fallen Christ by Ronald Rae.