Islay to Cork - Days 19 and 20 - An Island to End

The Loganair flight out of Cork was late getting to Glasgow on September 24. So it was nearly 5pm by the time I drove out of the airport, crossed the Erskine Bridge, and then followed the A82 to Loch Lomond. Twenty minutes later I left the highway to take the Luss Bypass - a narrow stretch of the old highway that runs up the shoreline of the loch. A minute later I parked at Bandry, a small cluster of houses that overlook my favourite island. The name 'Bandry' comes from the Gaelic Ban-Traigh, the white (or holy) beach. In times past, when the water level of the loch was lower, you could walk from Bandry to the island via a causeway. The island is Inchtavanaich, Innis Taigh a' Mhanaich, the island of the monastery. 

I made a phone call to say I'd arrived, and ten minutes later the sound of an outboard motor announced that a boat, piloted by a dear friend, was departing the island.

At the helm was Roy Rogers, who has lived on the island for decades. I made Roy, the island, and the horses he keeps there the subject of an article in the Scots Magazine in 2008 (which is included in chapter 19 of Book 1). A few minutes later I was walking up to Inchtavannach House, which dates to the 17th century, and incorporates some of the stones from St Kessog's 5th century monastery.

Roy, his partner Susan, and his son Nicol live here. I first met them nearly 20 years ago, when I was looking for ways to get to the islands of Loch Lomond. Since then I've visited Inchtavannach over a dozen times, including two occasions when I camped on the island. It had been four years since my last visit, so it was good to see them, and the horses, again. One of the horses, Kess, had been born when I last visited, so it was good to see him nearly fully grown. Kess was named in honor of St Kessog, who established the monastery here some 1600 years ago.

Kess as a foal

Kess in 2019

Another horse I was glad to see was Rosa. In the book I used the following photo of her swimming to the island in 2008. Rosa, now retired, was the primary horse they used to pull the carriage when Roy and Susan were working weddings.

After dinner and drinks, and catching up with the island news, I slept like a log. Early the next morning I set out to walk the length of the island, my final destination Tom nan Clag, the hill of the bell. The horses followed me until I left the grassy meadow near the house to head into the forest.

Just at the edge of the meadow is an outcropping of stone. It was once much bigger, and contained St Kessog's Cave. In the 19th century the cave was blasted apart for building material.

Site of St Kessog's Cave

A big change since my last visit has been the introduction of Highland cattle. With their long, sharp horns, they can be a little intimidating when you come across them on a hike. But if there are no calves around they are as gentle as can be.

From the meadow, I followed a path that winds its way north through a forest of beech and oak. There was a bit of controversy recently when SNH poisoned many of the island's beech trees (they were deemed non-native).

The path left the woodlands at a lochside meadow that lies at the base of the Hill of the Bell. From there it was time to climb the hill via what is sometimes called 'The Monk's Road'. The stone-lined path has mostly crumbled away, but here and there remnants of it survive. The monks most certainly climbed the hill via a path, but the stonework was probably put in place by quarry workers. Up until the 1950s the mainland opposite the island was a large slate quarry.

The 'road' ends at the top of the Hill of the Bell, 300 feet above the loch. There are two possible reasons for the hill's name. One is that the shape of the hill resembles a bell, and it certainly does. The other possibility is the tradition that St Kessog rang his bell here on special occasions. The bell is said to have survived for 1500 years; eventually hanging from a post in the loch, from where it went missing in the 19th century. 

Inchtavannach, and especially its Hill of the Bell, are an oasis of peace in the busy terrain surrounding Loch Lomond. I fondly remember camping atop the hill ten years ago; watching the stars gradually appear until it got too cold to stay out, and then slipping into the warm sleeping bag. 

Unfortunately I had a plane to catch, so after spending a half hour atop the hill I started back. I said goodbye to Roy and Susan, and then Roy ferried my back to the mainland. My stay on Inchtavannach capped an amazing three-week adventure. I'd made a loop of 1,000 miles from Glasgow, to Islay, to Oban, to Tory, to Dingle, to Cork, and then Inchtavannach.  It was time to go home