|29/05/2009||Filled under England east coast|
Now we are in a holiday week and there are enough people to fill the trip boats out to the Farne Islands, many times over, so like any other year the terns have plenty of human heads to attack on the path up from the landing – a hat is a compulsory item.
Selective layers of mist meant that we saw the tourists at Dunstanburgh before we saw the castle itself and even when it did appear it was just a ruined turret hovering in the cloud.
We had almost sailed on by before the full size of this spectacular seaside extravaganza revealed itself.
So it seems there is no shortage of tourists after all and of course no shortage of castles for them to visit here either. In fact castles are so thick on the ground in this part of Britain that it is difficult to take a picture without capturing one.
Although Holy Island has a perfectly good castle of its own, just across the way Bamburgh creeps into shot, two for the price of one, so to speak. But somehow Lindisfarne tops all the charts for total pointlessness as well as for sheer arrogance and I can well understand the attraction this place holds. What better use for an isolated lump of rock on a remote island at the edge of Britain than to build a castle on it – the tourists will always flock here to see it.
They even chance the tidal causeway that connects mainland to the island. Most will make it back safely but every year the tide catches a few out and pubs on the island showcase pictures of the rescues of those who don’t, 4 x 4s with water lapping the tops of the doors with sad, scared figures sitting atop.
There is a time, of course, when the tide returns and this place becomes silent, no one left but the residents and just the one boat crew, ours.