Editor’s note: This account was previously published in Visions Unseen, Frances shares her story of visiting Traigh Bhan on the island of Iona in 1977.

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Devas of place

There are Nature Spirits of plants and trees and there are also great Beings of the Landscape which I call Devas of Place.

Iona

Traigh Bhan, a small cottage on the island of Iona, off the West Coast of Scotland, is exposed to the Atlantic gales but has with it a simple and dear retreat energy. Findhorn Foundation Community members are encouraged to spend time there to recharge and reflect quietly, particularly at times of challenge or change in direction.

In the winter of 1977 or thereabouts two of us who were working on the building of the Universal Hall at Findhorn needed a break. We were allowed to have Traigh Bhan to ourselves for a week.

At that time the crossing was at Minch in a small open boat shared with bales of straw, chickens and sheep along with any other supplies for the Island, and of course Islanders and visitors. I am no sailor, and the stretch of water can be very turbulent with meeting currents. A storm was brewing as we crossed on the last sailing, dipping and rocking around alarmingly. We reached the Iona pier with our packs and food supply and as there are no vehicles on the Island we had to fight our way against the wind to the cottage at the north end of the Island.

Traigh Bhan had single glazing no insulation and a corrugated iron roof that leaked in various places. It was well nigh impossible to keep our feet if we went outside, so we were virtually marooned as the Force eight storm continued for five days. We lit the stove in the kitchen for cooking and hot water and there was a cheerful log fire in the living room. We spent our time reading, stoking fires, cooking and baking, listening to tapes and music, and just enjoying talking. On the fifth day we decided to tune in to the weather and see if some drawings might come. We both did a bit of scribbling. For me, these developed, into a series of almost bird – or fish-like Spirits of the Wind whistling and howling as they progressed onto paper.

Spirits of the wind drawing by Frances Ripley

Spirits of the wind

Meanwhile, the house was being shaken and the rugs were flapping up on the floorboards. We greeted the Spirits of the Wind and asked them if they could possibly help us to get back onto the mainland, as we needed to return to work in Findhorn. Nothing changed for several hours, but by evening of the sixth day, the wind slackened, the sun appeared, and by the next morning the sea was comparatively calm and the ferry running again. It may well have been going to abate anyway, but we like to think our Spirits of the Wind had granted us our wish, at least in part.

A big bright rainbow was in the sky as we left.

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Photo credit: image on top is by Doug Hoyt