Scotland and Ireland Coasts...the good, the bad and the ugly

The Scottish and Irish coasts are amazing...beautiful, picturesque, like something out of a fairy tale. For the past five days or so, I have primarily spent my time in these remote areas, visiting the Isles of Mull and Iona in Scotland and the the Northern coast of Ireland near the Giant's Causeway.

Iona was incredible; with morning and evening worship services, beautiful white sand beaches and a great eco-friendly hostel right on the water. It was here that St. Columba established an abbey that would soon convert all of pagan Scotland. Remarkable to think about after a visit; so tiny, so obscure and out of place. But this seems to be the way in which God often works...and I like it. It was here in Iona that I first connected with fellow travelers (outside of really helpful guy I met on the bus to Edinburgh). It was nice to feel part of a community, whether the worshipping community at the abbey (google Iona Community) or the hostel community. I arrived in Iona with no money (a little foolish on my part, but needed to make the transportation connections) and was graciously cared for by my fellow travelers with a couple warm meals and great conversation. Things seemed to work out...you know when things fall into line, like it was meant to be, when things make sense and all you can do is give thanks.

The Northern Coast of Ireland was a bit of a different story. I arrived in Glasgow late at night and decided on a whim to chance it and head to Troon (coastal town where I would catch the ferry in the morning). Bad decision. Ended up in Troon, surprisingly a really nice town, but didn't know about the lack of accommodations there. Spent an hour walking around looking for lodging (was going to chance it and crash outside by the church, but decided against it this time). Wound up at an Irish Dancing gathering that was absolutely hilarious...ate there leftover chicken nuggets and was finally directed to a hotel by some rough guys in kilts (the hotel was overpriced, but it worked).

Then took the ferry in the morning (Saturday) to Larne, waited four hours for the bus up toward Portstewart, where I thought I would stay a couple nights. Found out the buses don't run on Sunday (and Portstewart is 15 miles from the Causeway where I wanted to go), so I decided to hop off in Bushmills, only two miles from the Causeway. Unfortunately, the hostel was booked. Walked a couple miles to two B&Bs and they were both booked. Then met a big, burly dude with lots of tattoos that offered to give me a ride to some other B&Bs. Hitched a ride with him to a place that had a vacancy sign on it. When to the door and met this old lady who informed me that the "B&B" was actually her house, and there weren't any vacancies. However, she did offer me a ride across the road and fortunately found a place to put my head for the night.

The trip up the Irish coast was long, frustrating, disappointing...nothing seemed to work out. Quite a contrast to Scotland, where everything was like clockwork. I guess that is how things are...Sometimes things work, sometimes they "don't". A trip like this reminds you of a God who is there in the good and the bad, the times when all your lips can do is give praise and the times when all you want to do is curse. These are good things to learn and relearn. The coasts of Scotland and Ireland have reminded me anew.