The terrain also supports this story. There is a rock that fits this description. It sits on top of a small, amphitheater-like space and is the only rock in the entire field with a fern growing on it. I had previously Googled ferns and spirituality and discovered that ferns were sacred trees to the Druids, so I decided to believe this story was true.
Druids, monks, why bother with facts? Besides, I had the opportunity to meet Ben Fogle a few years ago and point wistfully at Krieg whilst the adventurous TV presenter mused on the Celtic spirit for two series in a row.
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If there’s one thing Argyll does well, it’s touting its Celtic heritage. And by Celtic heritage, we mean Columba. No need to elaborate further. After all, we believe there is not a single island on the West Coast where St Columba has not arrived, stayed, prayed, blessed or otherwise graced the land with his presence. And that’s enough for most leaflets.
Iona is the most famous pilgrimage site, but everyone has a story about St. Columba or the monks they want to tell tourists, and Tyre was either a prison for bad monks, or a place to grow grain to feed the monks elsewhere (the “granary of the islands”), or both.
But these days, tales of exiled monks, Celtic cross merchandise and postcards of Iona Abbey aren’t enough. To reach the highest levels of tourism revenue, coastal paths are needed to drive the large numbers of visitors, and sadly there are in short supply of Celtic paths.
Don’t worry, something is on the way. The Wellbeing Coast, an initiative of the Argyll and Isles Tourism Co-operative, promises to harness our interest in ancient Celtic traditions and revitalise the region with a healthy dose of wellness, with a dash of Gaelic flair. It’s an exciting combination.
Reports suggest the proposals include developing outdoor activities and promoting eco-friendly tourism to boost the local economy and the wellbeing of residents and visitors. There’s nothing wrong with this – Argyle is certainly a great place and introducing more people to the outdoors can only be a good thing. Enjoy!
But the existing natural environment isn’t enough – the Wellbeing Coast is steeped in Gaelic tradition and is said to be reminiscent of the Kingdom of Dalriada – by a considerable distance.
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Dal Riada (or Dal Riata) was a Gaelic kingdom that existed from about the 5th to the 9th century, occupying what is now Argyll and Bute in Scotland and County Antrim in Northern Ireland.
D’Alriada played an important role in the spread of Christianity in Scotland: St Columba founded a monastery on Iona around AD 563 which became a major centre of Christian missionary work and helped Christianise the Picts and other areas.
So how do Buddhist monks and modern health overlap?
It is generally accepted that the ancient Celts had a deep respect for nature and believed in its healing powers, as did many subsequent generations, and the idea of a walk through a forest heavy with Celtic mysticism is appealing to many.
Our world is becoming increasingly fast-paced and unforgiving. Stories of ancient monks in monasteries, in touch with nature, are fascinating. We imagine peace and tranquility; a world where nature abounds and where they carefully illustrate their manuscripts in their spare time.
In reality, the monks were probably hungry because it was cold and the grain-producing island of Tyre was far away. Bad monks were punished severely. Compared to the beehive at Garberach, Tyre was a walk in the park.
The worse our present realities become, the stronger the pull towards romantic traditions. Returning to the past makes perfect sense. The search for meaning is something we all have in common, for us, for the generations before us, and for the generations that will come after us. Provided that the generations that come after us do not burn out before discovering the joys of Celtic purification.
Speaking at the Island Futures conference in Orkney this weekend, Professor Donna Heddle (pictured below) explained that tourist destinations are not just physical places, but are often temporary places too – people are looking for something to visit where vestiges of the past are most apparent.
Whether what they are searching for is real or imaginary becomes immaterial, so long as they leave feeling they have found it.
In modern understandings of Celtic spirituality, one concept we hear about again and again is the idea of a ‘thin place.’ A ‘thin place’ is often used to describe a place where the boundary between the spiritual and material worlds feels particularly thin and permeable.
These “thin places” are thought to evoke a sense of wonder, presence, and a connection to the divine or the transcendent, and have become a popular concept in contemporary spirituality, tourism, and literature.
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Tourists often seek out places that are deemed “thin” by reputation or the experiences of others, but this simply creates a feedback loop where the expectation of encountering a thin place shapes the experience itself, which is entirely subjective: what one person perceives as a “thin place” may not be what another person sees.
Iona is a place where people swear, but would they swear if no one else said it?
Of course, a side benefit is that if enough people visit the same place, a visitor centre and café could be opened – after all, the modern pilgrim needs a WiFi connection.
This type of cultural tourism is a double-edged sword: it attracts tourists, encourages spending and supports the economy. Locally based tourism businesses benefit. But it also starts to create a new set of myths and truths that are increasingly detached from reality. Perceived culture gets hijacked in the name of commercialism. And that’s before we even begin to explore the role of the Gaelic language.
Frankly, our more recent Gaelic tradition has nothing to do with the monks of Iona, any more than I have anything to do with Cindy Crawford, but its status quo and the desire to improve it give the Celtic experience a modern-day savior story.
Adding a bit of Gaelic to these Celtic experiences helps bridge the gap between the Book of Kells and the need to sell keychains to pay the rent. These experiences are created for money, and a little Gaelic is just the right combination to tie in the dalriada and the juice cleanse.
Does it matter? If people are having fun with it, despite conflating a modern understanding of Celtic spirituality, a growing wellness industry, and a warped understanding of Gaelic tradition, what harm is there? Nothing. A lot.
What we do is perpetuate the myth of rural places as experiences and places of pilgrimage, rather than places that live and breathe in the present.There is a never-ending stream of programming about pilgrimages of various kinds.
Whether it be the Sacred Islands or the celebrities roaming the Western Isles, our places are destinations for the curious and the explorers.
The problem is that they are being encouraged to look beyond the history that exists to appreciate the depth and richness of what remains today: it is not the place that is thin, but the capacity of understanding of those who look at it.
Let’s have a trail and wellness concept. Let’s enjoy the outdoors and use traditions and ancient history as a backdrop. Let’s be honest about what is happening: we are commodifying ancient cultures that we don’t fully understand and using existing cultures only as a means of commercialism.
It’s very thin.
