To the Island of Tides

by Alistair Moffat

  On the journey to Lindisfarne, there were moments when I recognised that Cuthbert had given me gifts and I wanted to think about them. Up on Brotherstone Hill, after I had managed to find it, I remember being overwhelmed by the glories of the Border landscape, my native place. The hills and river valleys were not just stunning scenery but places enriched by experience, made even more beautiful by events and not only things that happened to me. History rumbled down these roads, and lives were passed tilling those fields and tending the flocks on the hills. This place is not only a series of geological accidents but also somewhere made by the back-breaking labour of farmers and farm workers over millennia. Those heaps of years should not be remote, a time of long processes and small events that happened to other people. My family has been in the Tweed Valley for many centuries, their lives unremarked by historians, and they and countless others made the land look the way it does. Long before I walked its roads and tracks, they walked them too. For me, history is not something found in books or in TV programmes, it is deeply personal. Up on Brotherstone Hill, I understood that.

  As I walked the banks of the Tweed and Till and across the moors and the Kyloe Hills, I looked at the changing landscape, but also noted how little its essence had altered since Cuthbert’s time. History is about change and loss, but also about continuity. There were times I saw sights Cuthbert had seen and often I felt I could reach out across the centuries to take his hand. He has achieved immortality of a sort, living on through the pages of history, his exemplary life inspiring many pilgrims to keep his memory bright. Mine will fade much more quickly, probably dying with the generation after my grandchildren’s. But it is enough to know that my children and theirs will remember me and understand something of the continuity I cherish as the generations unfurl after them.

  Cuthbert’s love of animals and his longing for the coming of the Second Creation also had lessons. To heal itself and avoid the coming cataclysm of climate change, our broken and divided world is going to have to change. We will need to return to having respect for the rest of Creation and not see it only as a background, a context for human dominance. As President Macron of France told the US Congress in 2018, there is no Planet B, and a Second Creation of a secular sort must be undertaken. Despite his speech and sentiments, political leaders will not take initiatives until it is too late. The atavistic chaos in the United States and elsewhere means that communities and individuals have to begin the necessary process of change from exploitation to respect for our world. Cuthbert loved it because it was God’s Creation and we should love it because there is no alternative. The central difficulty is the disunity of purpose and policy across what seem like impossible and impassable divides. While building vast cities that are the toxic engines of pollution, the Chinese appear to be bent on growth at all costs, on dominance even, while other Asian economies are expanding at dangerous and poisonous rates. The President of Brazil seems poised to sanction attacks on the Amazonian rainforest. All of these nations want the standard of living the West has long enjoyed and are unlikely to listen to lectures on climate change and its causes. This is nothing less than the greatest crisis in the world’s history and all we as individuals can do is live simpler, less-consuming lives.

  Throughout his adult life, Cuthbert craved solitude so that he had no distractions in his endless quest to move closer to God. He went to extraordinary lengths to achieve a hermetic life. By comparison to the cold and hungry years he spent alone, my time on Lindisfarne was piddling, but it did teach me something important. I had never in all my life spent such a long time alone and largely silent. To my surprise, I not only became comfortable in my own company, but I also enjoyed the peace that descended when I sat alone on the Heugh or out at Emmanuel Head. A simple gift from Cuthbert, but one I shall value in the life to come.

  On the journey to the Island of Tides, I thought a good deal about the dead, about Hannah and the life she did not have, and my mum, dad and grannie, and the life they gave me. Instead of shedding more tears (all too easy for me), I found myself learning another lesson. So that we can find comfort in our sense of our lives, we should keep the dead close. They live on in us just as we shall live on in the lives of our children and grandchildren. It is a continuum, a version of an afterlife I cherish.

  Part of my mission on the road to Lindisfarne was to focus on the good things in life and try to pull away from darker matters, mistakes, self-criticism, regrets and pessimism. I had also resolved to forgive those people who have hurt me over the years and I will not resile from that.

  Reading back through this manuscript, I was struck by how often I wrote about death. Knowing it is almost a taboo subject, I was tempted to edit out some of these thoughts. I resisted for a simple reason: it was an important part of my purpose in walking to Lindisfarne, to confront death and come to an accommodation with myself that would help me when it comes. I am not sure I have yet succeeded, but at least the process has begun. And thinking about my death has certainly had an effect on how I want to live the life left to me.

  The night before I wrote this, I interviewed the former Scotland rugby player Doddie Weir in front of an audience of more than five hundred about his recently published autobiography. At Christmas 2016, he was diagnosed with motor neurone disease. He was only forty-six at the time. In what sounded like a cold and clinical manner, the consultant told Doddie that he would not walk into the hospital in a year’s time. After the shock had subsided, all of his competitive, rugby-playing instincts shoved their way to the front of his mind and, appalled at the lack of available therapies and research, Doddie launched a charitable foundation to raise money. At the time of writing, he has given more than £1 million to help those who suffer from this terminal condition and also to pay for further research. And almost two years after diagnosis he is still walking.

  In front of a packed audience of fellow Borderers, Doddie put on a bravura performance, even though he was clearly exhausted. I had seen him five months before and it seemed to me that his condition was deteriorating. He was confronting death with humour, some of it dark, and with action, all of it positive. Doddie knows he will die soon, but he is determined to go down fighting. In between laughing at his jokes, the audience repeatedly cheered him, applauding his immense courage. Perhaps it is the certainty that his massive six-foot, six-inch frame will fail and fall that makes his tragedy more poignant. There were moments, little more than glances, when I saw the hurt and the sadness behind his smile. Doddie’s strategy for confronting death works, but not all the time. And for me that too was a lesson. Even if I reach a settlement with myself, there will be days, perhaps weeks, when it falters.

  On the same day I met Doddie, I had news of my blood sample. It was mostly good. I do not have prostate cancer and that is a mighty relief, but there is something wrong. I will need to have more tests to investigate whatever it is that is giving me frequent pain in my lower abdomen. I suspect we will never find out, and it will clear up anyway. When I shook Doddie’s hand at the end of the evening, I almost felt guilty that I had had a reprieve and that there would be none for him.

  Up on Brotherstone Hill, late on an autumn morning, I looked east down the valley of the Tweed under skies that threatened rain. A southerly breeze was keeping the weather moving but overnight rain had made the grass too damp for sitting. Standing in the lee of the larger of the Brothers’ Stones, I felt I knew more than I did when I last climbed the hill. On my journey I had learned a great deal about Cuthbert and there seemed to be much that he could teach me. I know that his peace will come to me gradually, and in times when it does not I now know where to find it.

  Like the people whose names are commemorated on the benches, I have come to love Lindisfarne. As they did, I see it as a haven, a place to run to when life overwhelms me, a place to grieve and a place to find a simple joy in the glories of the sea, the sky and the land. When I walked back down off Brotherstone Hill, I realised that this time I had found the right path.

>   Acknowledgements

  I want to begin by thanking Simon Thorogood, my editor, for his faith in this unlikely book, and for his astute suggestions on how to improve it. Debs Warner has done a lovely job in editing the text and removing some of the grit and smoothing some rocky passages. Thank you both.

  For twenty years, my agent, David Godwin, has been much more than that. Every miserable scribbling drudge needs encouragement, tissues to dry their tears and some firm guidance. No one does all these things better than David.

  Walter Elliot read every word before the story went anywhere else. His generosity in sharing his encyclopedic store of knowledge and lore, his gentleness in pointing out blunders and infelicities, and his passion for the stories I wanted to tell – all of these kindnesses were central to my enjoyment in writing about this journey and about Cuthbert.

  To the Island of Tides is for Richard Buccleuch in inadequate acknowledgement not only for his unwavering support for what I do but also for all he does to make the Borders a better place. Our talks at Bowhill over many years have sustained me, made me laugh and made me a believer in the fundamental decency of the human spirit. Richard is not grand, but instead a great man, and this journey and this book are dedicated to him with love and friendship.

  Alistair Moffat

  Selkirk, March 2019

  Index

  Abrahamsen, Tormod ref1

  Ad Gefrin ref1

  AD time system ref1

  Aebbe, Abbess ref1

  Aelfflaed ref1, ref2, ref3

  Aelfwald, King ref1

  Aelle ref1

  Aethelfrith ref1, ref2, ref3

  Aethelthryth (Etheldreda), Queen ref1, ref2

  Aethelwine, Bishop ref1, ref2

  afterlife ref1, ref2

  Aidan, St, ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5

  and Inner Farne ref1

  Alcuin of York ref1, ref2

  Aldfrith, King ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5

  Aldhun, Bishop ref1

  Aldred ref1, ref2

  Alexander I, King ref1

  Alexander II, Pope ref1

  Alexander III, King ref1

  America ref1

  Angles ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4

  animals ref1, ref2; see also birdlife

  Anthony of Egypt, St ref1, ref2, ref3

  Armstrong, Andrew ref1

  Armstrong, William ref1, ref2, ref3

  Arthur, King ref1, ref2, ref3

  ascetics ref1, ref2, ref3

  Athanasius of Alexandria, St ref1

  Audrey, St ref1

  Avenel, Robert, Lord of

  Eskdale ref1, ref2

  Bamburgh ref1, ref2, ref3

  and Castle ref1, ref2, ref3

  Bannockburn ref1

  Baptised, the ref1, ref2, ref3

  bards ref1

  Bartholomew of Farne, St ref1

  Basil, St ref1

  Battle of the Standard ref1

  Beal ref1

  Bede, St ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4

  and Drythelm ref1

  and Eata ref1

  and Ecclesiastical History of the English People ref1

  and Inner Farne ref1, ref2

  and Metrical Life ref1

  and Old Melrose ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5

  and On the Reckoning of Time ref1

  Beltane ref1, ref2

  Bemersyde ref1, ref2

  benches ref1

  Benedictines ref1

  Benrig Cemetery ref1

  Bernicia ref1, ref2

  Berwickshire Naturalists’ Club (BNC) ref1, ref2

  Billfrith ref1

  birdlife ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4

  Birgham ref1

  Black Death ref1

  Blodmonath (Blood Month) ref1

  bog bodies ref1

  Boisil, Prior ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5

  and Chapel ref1, ref2

  Boyd, Margaret ref1

  Braudel, Fernand x

  Brendan the Navigator, St ref1

  Bridge Well ref1, ref2

  Brisbane, Sir Thomas ref1

  Brothers’ Stones ref1, ref2, ref3

  Brotherstone Hill ref1, ref2, ref3

  Brownmoor ref1

  Brownsman Island ref1, ref2

  Cadrod, Lord of Calchvynydd ref1

  calfskin ref1, ref2

  Candida Casa ref1, ref2

  Canon Tables ref1

  Carham ref1, ref2

  Carlisle ref1

  Carnais ref1

  Catterick ref1

  causeway ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4

  Cellach, Abbot ref1

  Celtic Church ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4

  Celts ref1

  Chester-le-Street ref1, ref2

  Cheviot Hills ref1

  Christianity ref1, ref2, ref3

  Church of Rome ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4

  Cistercians ref1

  Clearances ref1

  Cliftonhill Farm ref1

  climate change ref1

  Cnut, King ref1

  Coldinghamshire ref1

  Coldstream ref1

  Colgrave, Bertram ref1

  Colman, Bishop ref1

  Columba, St ref1, ref2

  Columbus, Christopher ref1

  Congregation of St

  Cuthbert ref1

  conversion ref1

  Coquet Island ref1

  coracles ref1

  crosses ref1, ref2

  Crossman, Sir William ref1

  Cruickshank, Andrew ref1

  Crystal Well ref1, ref2

  Cuddy’s Cave ref1

  Cumbria ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4

  curraghs ref1

  Cuthbert, St ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7

  and afterlife ref1

  and animals ref1

  and banner ref1, ref2

  and Benedictines ref1

  and Brothers’ Stones ref1, ref2

  and Carlisle ref1

  and Church of Rome ref1

  and churches ref1

  and coffin ref1, ref2

  and Cuddy’s Cave ref1, ref2

  and cult ref1

  and death ref1, ref2, ref3

  and dunes ref1

  and Eata ref1, ref2

  and Ecgfrith ref1

  and flight ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5

  and Inner Farne ref1, ref2, ref3

  and lives ref1

  and Monksford ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4

  and Old Melrose ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6

  and relics ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4

  and sainthood ref1

  and Synod of Whitby ref1

  and Vikings ref1

  and Wilfred ref1

  Darling, Grace ref1, ref2, ref3

  David I, King ref1, ref2, ref3

  death ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4; see also afterlife

  Deira ref1

  Demarco, Ricky ref1

  Dere Street ref1

  Desert Fathers ref1

  Devil, the ref1

  Dionysius Exiguus ref1

  Doddington Moor ref1

  Domhnall Ban Crosd ref1

  Donan, St ref1

  ‘Dream of the Rood, The’ ref1

  Druids ref1, ref2

  Dryburgh Abbey ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6

  Drythelm ref1

  Dublin ref1

  Duddingston Loch ref1

  Dun Airchille ref1

  Dunnichen ref1

  Durham Cathedral ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6

  Eadfrith, Bishop ref1, ref2

  and Lindisfarne Gospels ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4

  Eadulf of Bamburgh, Earl ref1

  Eardulf, Bishop ref1

  Earlston Black Hill ref1

  Easter ref1, ref2, ref3

  Eata ref1, ref2, ref3

  Ebrauc ref1

  Ecgfrith, King ref1, ref2

  Ecgred, Bishop of Lindisfarne ref1

  Eden, River ref1

  Ednam ref1, ref2

  Edward I, King ref1

  Edward I
I, King ref1

  Edwin, King ref1, ref2

  Eildon Hills ref1, ref2

  Elliot, Walter ref1, ref2, ref3

  Emmanuel Head ref1

  Erskine, David Stuart, Earl of Buchan ref1, ref2

  Etal ref1, ref2, ref3

  Ethelwald ref1

  Ettrick Forest ref1

  farming ref1, ref2

  Farne Islands ref1; see also Inner Farne

  Fenwick ref1

  Ferguson, Johnny ref1

  Flambard, Ranulf ref1

  Flodden ref1, ref2, ref3

  Ford ref1

  Forfarshire (steamer) ref1, ref2

  France ref1, ref2

  Francis of Assisi, St ref1

  Friga ref1

  Gaullauc, King of Elmet ref1, ref2

  Gentiles, the ref1, ref2

  ghost fence ref1

  Gododdin ref1

  Gospels ref1; see also Lindisfarne Gospels

  Grandstand ref1

  Great Dirrington Law ref1

  Great Heathen Army ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4

  Gregory the Great, Pope ref1

  Guthfrith, King ref1

  Haig, Alexander ref1

  Haig, Douglas, Earl ref1

  Halfdan ref1, ref2, ref3

  Haliwerfolc (Holy Man’s People) ref1

  Hallowe’en ref1

  heads ref1

  Hebrides ref1

  henges ref1, ref2

  Henry VIII, King ref1, ref2, ref3

  Herefrith ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4

  Heugh, the ref1, ref2

  Hexham ref1

  Higbald, Bishop of Lindisfarne ref1

  Hinnegan, Willie ref1

  Hobthrush (St Cuthbert’s Isle) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4

  Holburn ref1

  Holloway, Richard ref1

  holy ground ref1

  Hope-Taylor, Brian ref1

  horses ref1, ref2

  Horton Moor ref1

  Hroc ref1

  Hudson, Edward ref1, ref2