Around the coastline of my adopted county of Argyll are places rich in the folklore of the Celtic sailor-saints. For them, voyaging was about mission. It was the very stuff of faith and life. It was the living embodiment of trusting in the living God.

Tides ebbed and flowed to His ordinance.

Storms came to test and to admonish.

The journey was blessed only by His provision

But arrival was never certain.

One of the accepted practices of these monks seems to have been Peregrinatio, or ‘Holy voyaging’, which in practice meant to get in a boat, and simply to set sail. No destination planned, simply trusting to tide, wind and God. The destination of such a voyage was not geographical, but rather spiritual. The goal was to arrive at ones ‘place of resurrection.’ Arriving at journey’s end inevitably meant an actual physical place also however- and it is these places that still hold the memory of these voyages in Argyll- in the place names, the folk lore, and also in the marks and mounds in the earth out on exposed headlands, or on tiny islands.

Just around the corner from me is Holy Loch (the site in more recent years of an American nuclear submarine base!) At the head of the Loch is the village of St Mun, named after the saint for whom this place was his resurrection.

St Brendan

Lord stain me with salt

Brine me with the badge of the deep sea sailor

I have spent too long

On concrete ground.

If hope raises up these tattered sails

Will you send for me

A fair and steady wind?