Watering holy

My love affair with Lindisfarne in Northumberland began in 1991, on a cycling tour with my late wife. You need to check the tide times because it is easy to be stuck on the wrong side of the causeway for several hours. We had a wonderful sixty minutes on the beach with our binoculars, sometimes watching seals but more often observing vehicles speeding to beat the encroaching water on the causeway. No one got stuck that day, but the rescue huts on stilts remind you that they sometimes do.

Lindisfarne (or Holy Island) is a place of pilgrimage thanks to its associations with Celtic Christianity, linking such names as Aidan, Cedd and Cuthbert. The path across

the sands for pedestrian pilgrims is clearly marked by withies. Near the ruins of the priory is a statue of Aidan carrying a torch which does not really do him justice, whereas the much more recent carving of Cuthbert in the priory ruins is majestic and noble.

There is a little-known pearl – the courtyard garden, not far from the castle, is the work of Gertrude Jekyll: in late August it is superb.

Lindisfarne is a place of real peace, ideal for walking, bird watching and simply enjoying one of the most beautiful places in England.

A few years ago I misread the tide tables. We were stranded – a blessing. It was a glorious, sunny day and we were content to sit, wander and simply be. Finding a meal that had not been pre-booked was difficult, but eventually we had a wonderful supper at a bistro in one of the hotels. But the real perk came on the journey home, driving south past Gateshead: the Angel of the North at sunset. We just had to stop and wonder. Chris Elliott