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While Mary and I were on a holiday in Scotland earlier this year, my son Peter suggested that we should all, us, him and our two grandsons take a trip to Inchcolm and look over the ruins of the abbey. This is something we have wanted to do for a few years. Our daughter in law was away for the weekend visiting her father in hospital down south. She, I know, has been wanting to take the trip for some time, and would probably be disappointed when she found out, but we didn't want to miss the chance. So off we went. A short car journey from Pattiesmuir to South Queensferry, an ice cream while we were waiting for the ferry, and then we were off on a short trip down the Firth of Forth. The boat must have been doing about eight knots, and with a following wind of about the same speed it was quite warm in the May sunshine. What with a running commentary about the other inches in the firth, Inchgarvie, Inchkeith and Inchmickery, and other land marks on the coast, it was a pleasant journey, which took about half an hour, enlivened by the antics of the two boys. Inchcolm is in the charge of the National Trust for Scotland, and is a bird sanctuary with a warden, Mr. Smith, who, with his wife, lives on the island throughout the year. On our approach I saw lots of herring gulls flying around and some eider ducks swimming about, but no seals, as I had hoped. The tide was coming in and the rocks on which they normally bask were covered by the sea. Once landed we had a little talk by Mr. Smith about the island and the various places of interest and a warning that, since the birds were nesting, it was advisable to keep well away from their nesting sites (a bit difficult since some of the nests were only a couple of feet from the paths). They were the residents - we were merely the paying guests - and if we came into contact they had right of way. Mrs. Smith, by the way, runs the shop where one can buy mementoes of the visit. There has been a Christian presence on Inchcolm since time immemorial. In a biography of St. Margaret, Bishop Turgot of St. Andrews tells of a great number of hermits who lived their saintly lives in isolated cells all over Scotland, and Inchcolm was one of these hermitages, these hermits being guardians of a holy place whose reputation goes back several centuries to a certain St. Colm of whom nothing but rumour is known. Later on, in the Middle Ages, he was identified with St. Columba, who was the abbot of Iona in the sixth century. But since Columba had no known link with the east coast of Scotland the Colm of Inchcolm may be someone else. ('Inch', by the way, merely means 'island'.) There is a little cell to the west of the abbey with an irregular plan and somewhat superficial Irish appearance, and it needs little imagination to think of this as the residence of early hermits. There is a legend that when the Danes were defeated by King Macbeth (he did exist - he reigned from 1040 to 1057) at the Battle of Kinghorn, they paid a large sum of money to have their dead buried on this holy island, and a tenth-century style tombstone found on the island is regarded as a monument to the Danish leader. However, it was in 1123 that the hermitage came into prominence. King Alexander I and some of his courtiers, by reason of state affairs, were crossing the Forth at Queensferry when a violent south-westerly storm arose such that the boat was in danger of sinking. Alexander despaired for his life and made a vow to St Columba that if they were brought safely to the island, which is some four miles north-east of Queensferry, 'he would leave to St Columba's praise such a memorial as would afford shelter and comfort to sailors and the ship-wrecked'. The king's boat was blown on to Inchcolm (or Aemonia, as it was then known), where, according to the records, 'dwelt a certain hermit who, dedicated to the service of St Columba and supported by a slender diet, consisting of the milk of a single cow and mussels and small fish taken from the sea, zealously devoted himself to a tiny chapel there'. On such fare did Alexander and his fellow travellers exist for the three days that the storm lasted. When the party eventually reached Fife, Alexander thanked God for his deliverance and vowed to build a monastery on the island. Unfortunately his dream was forestalled by his untimely death the following year, and it fell to his younger brother David, who succeeded him to the throne, to fulfil his promise. David remained true to his brother's wish by inviting the Augustinians to settle on the island, and it was Bishop Gregory of Dunkeld, in the diocese of which Inchcolm lies, who supervised their arrival on to the island sometime after 1147, when Gregory transferred the property to Prior Brice and his fellow canons. Augustinians are not monks in the strictest meaning of the word, but canons, or priests, who lived a cloistered and contemplative life, following the teachings of St Augustine of Hippo, who died in the year 430. They went out into the secular world to preach and minister to the people, and were more familiarly known as 'black canons' from the colour of their habits which they wore at all times, even in bed. We had about two hours looking over the ruins and the island, which has quite a history - maybe more of that anon - and then it was time to catch the boat back to South Queensferry. Not such a nice journey this time. The boat still did about eight knots, and the wind was still blowing about the same speed, but this time we were going straight into it - a gusty breeze of sixteen knots across the open decks. I kept thinking of King Alexander the First and wondering what would happen if the engine failed. Would we be lucky and get blown back to Inchcolm, or would we miss the island and finish up on the Fife coast at Burntisland. But nothing untoward happened, and it was nice to get back into the car in the warm for the ride back to Pattiesmuir. Bill Hutchings |
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page last updated 1 JULY 2000 |
