Ringing down the years, the bell of St Finan.

As we entered the dog leg in Loch Shiel we found that the way ahead was almost completely blocked by...

...the Green or St Finan's Isle, which is topped by the ancient stones of St Finan's chapel and the graves of the those who have inhabited these lands since mediaeval times. This narrowing of the loch is where the original glacier that cut Loch Shiel would have met the sea and melted, depositing its moraine.

We landed at the jetty where generations of mourners have landed to carry the coffins of their deceased up...

...the hill to the...

...graveyard at the top. Some of the older grave stones are simple boulders half buried in the grass while...

...other stones from the 18th century bear upright crosses, some of which are simply carved. Later stones are...

...not only taller but...

...some are elaborately carved. This one was erected by...

...the grateful parishioners of Reverend Charles MacDonald who died in 1894. He was also a local historian and author.

At the summit of the isle is St Finan's chapel. It was built in about 1500 by the chief of the Clanranald to  replaced an earlier wooden structure. It was abandoned in the late 1600's so was already a ruin by the time Bonnie Prince Charlie came this way in 1745 on his way to Glenfinnan at the head of the loch. Almost certainly the Prince would have stopped here and made his way up to the chapel. St Finan (the leper) was born in Ireland and is thought to have lived between about 520 and 600. Several places in Scotland and Ireland are named after him. He is not to be confused with the later St Finan (of Lindisfarne) who died in 661 after becoming Bishop of Lindisfarne.

Today the ruins are very peaceful and seldom visited. They are surrounded by the loch, forests and mountains of the lands of Moidart, Ardgour and Sunart from where the deceased were brought to be buried. At the east end of the chapel a simple slab alter survives. In a recess above it...

...is a carved stone cross. On the alter itself is a remarkable object. It is a Celtic seamless cast bronze bell. Amazingly it has been here for over a thousand years. Nowadays it is chained up but it is remarkable that it has survived the millennia without being plundered. Of course there is a dreadful curse attached to the bell and any one who stole it would regret doing so for every second of their few remaining days... During an internment the bell is taken down to the jetty and rung at the head of the cortège as they slowly make their way up to the waiting grave.

The bell has a remarkably clear and pure tone and as I rang it...

...deer on the far hillside broke off from their grazing, raised their heads and listened in the same way that countless generations of their ancestors must have done. We had lost all sense of time as we had explored the small isle, over an hour had passed since we landed. We were glad we were not headland to headland paddlers. Each of us felt a strong connection with the landscape and the generations of people who had lived and died here. We reflected on our own mortality and felt a deep joy in being able to experience such a place. Paradoxically we had never felt so alive than here in this place of the dead.

By coincidence St Finan's Saint's Day is the 18th of March, the very day we were there. Perhaps that may have added to the ambience we enjoyed though we did not know it was that day at the time.

We were still in no hurry as we made our way back down to the jetty where...

...we enjoyed a peaceful coffee break with the silvery song of a robin and the echoes of an ancient bell ringing in our ears.