Today has been SUCH a joy, after yesterday’s soggy experience – it was cloudy initially, but high cloud and not promising rain. It was a nice B&B, and most of us at breakfast were heading for Lindisfarne, with the causeway open for cars at 8:25am – there were still pools of standing water, and it needed careful driving, but it’s an exercise for the imagination to think about pilgrims crossing on foot with the tide rising. There’s actually a refuge in the middle – and yes, people do occasionally lose their cars to the flood tide.
 |
| Looking out from the causeway |
Lindisfarne is maintained by the Lindisfarne Trust and the National Trust – and they do a really good job of it. Everyone has to park at the Chare’s End lot, and cars are largely kept out of the village. I was there early enough that things weren’t too busy, and I headed right for the Castle headland. The castle itself is a NT property, but I was less interested in that and more in the surroundings. It’s about a mile from the village entrance, and as I moved further from buildings, I soaked in the “silence” – distant sheep, busy swallows, and so many skylarks soaring and singing their hearts out.
 |
| The castle from the village |
 |
| wonderful village gardens |
My initial focus was the Gertrude Jekyll garden, a walled garden that stands in isolation facing the castle. Jekyll was active in the Arts and Crafts Movement in the late 19th century, and was often associated with architect Edwin Lutyens. She was influenced by the Impressionists and was one of the first garden designers to take into account the colour, texture, and experience of gardens as aspects of her designs. The Lindisfarne garden is a miniature, but so rich in all those factors, and really well maintained.
 |
| the pathway to the walled garden |
I went on to the eastern end where the second of two large wicker shore-birds marks the boundary – the other is on the main path to the castle.
Walking down the eastern side, I enjoyed the variety of wild flowers – different varieties of thistles, carpets of clover (we should plant clover at the Cat Sanctuary!), sea-pinks...
There is a barrier of stones on the edge of the coast, and people have made cairns - the equivalent of inukshuks.
Heading back towards the castle, I explored the lime kilns built into the cliff where limestone from the island quarry was baked to produce quicklime for fertilizer and mortar for building. Then up the steps to the area in front of the castle, which by now was getting busy.
 |
| lime kilns and protected plover beaches |
 |
| I love these National Trust gates |
The hard thing about a national treasure like Lindisfarne is that everybody and their dog comes to explore. The place is not exploited, exactly – they’re careful not to spoil what’s there. But the sheer number of people removes the chance of feeling the sense of isolation that was part of the lives of St Cuthbert and the early inhabitants.
 |
| looking back to the causeway |
 |
| St Cuthbert's Island |
Returning from the castle, I veered off to the harbour and then up to the Heugh (prodounced Hee-uff – the Northumbrian word for a steep crag). Sigh – I don’t scramble any more, like I used to. Balance and eyesight are not what they were – and I think there are definitely implications for some of my planned walks. The scramble got me up on the headland though, and I was able to walk along to the lookout tower, which is now one of the Wild Lindisfarne displays, and down to the tiny Island where St Cuthbert lived as a hermit before relocating to one of the Farne Islands.
 |
| St Cuthbert |
Looking down on the Abbey, it was swarming like ants, and I decided that I didn’t want to join them, much as I love the Abbey. Instead, I picked up some gifts for Steve and Gill, for next week (Lindisfarne gin, distilled with elderflower, and a bottle of mead) and returned to the car.
No comments:
Post a Comment