On a pilgrimage

Pilgrims need to be ready for all eventualities, so I was delighted to discover my winter netball watching kit in the pockets of my rain coat.
Apparently it was Summer in Scotland although the pouring rain, wind squalls and areas of flooding observed on the island of Mull made me doubt it.
Going to Iona is truly a pilgrimage, even putting the journey from Australia to one side.
I caught a 7am train from Edinburgh to Glasgow, then a cramped 3 hourish train ride to Oban, we sailed through the miserable weather to the island of Mull, squelched onto buses for the 1.5 hour journey across Mull. Even though the visibility was minimal, it was dramatic country side.
Finally, we were deposited on the quayside of Fionnphort, where a grey shadowy outline of Iona was tantalisingly visible. After a long soggy wait, the ferry came across to collect me and the other pilgrims for a week of being part of the Iona community. Hooray!

What was interesting during that pilgrimage was the game of guessing who was going to Iona too.
Some were obvious, like the bright dressed John Bell, whilst others slowly revealed themselves as the numbers were whittled away over the day's journey.