IONA

A magic place.

I stayed at the friendly hostel in the North of the island then went from there to another magic pace – Staffa…. Fingal’s Cave…..dadadadidaadaa (bis). Tried to locate on Iona the beaches painted by Cadell and his colourist chums, tried to photograph the white sands and the bluey-pink rocks like they had painted them and did okay but the main pleasure was that everybody talked to everybody (except for newcomers from the ferry who hadn’t yet cottoned on to the ways of The Friendly Isle) . Everyone has a story to tell.

Before I left I filled a plastic bottle with Iona’s fine white sand, I don’t really know what for. When I left,  I looked back from Mull which was under a cloud.  Low-lying Iona was bathed in light.

Indeed a  magic place.

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