On Holy Island, a wave of gratitude rolls in with the tide

The cold water was already well up to my shins and creeping quickly toward my knees. I saw no emergency-shelters-on-stilts where I could wait out the tide, and no way to reach the meeting point where I’d catch my taxi ride back to town. After leaving the sandy route I was on, I shuffled to a paved causeway on higher ground. I tried waving down cars, hoping to hitchhike to safety. No one stopped.

How had I gotten to this point?

Well, first, some background: I had sought out Lindisfarne, aka Holy Island, because it defies modern convenience. This spit of land is accessible to cars and pedestrians from the mainland, Northumberland, only at low tide – and only via that one causeway or by a sandy, 3-mile footpath known as the Pilgrim’s Way. A gregarious cabdriver, Keith Wilson, had taken me from the train station at Berwick-upon-Tweed to Lindisfarne. I decided I’d try to walk part of the way back, following the footpath, which is marked off by tall wooden poles. Keith and I consulted the day’s tide chart and picked a time to meet on the causeway for my return.

I wandered through medieval monastic ruins and saw cottage gardens abloom. I had heard on the island that a half hour or so would be sufficient for my walk. But as time passed, my rendezvous spot seemed as far away as ever, and the water kept creeping up. I obviously misunderstood what I’d heard. And now, I was stranded.

Despondent, I walked the causeway for several minutes with my camera swinging at my side. Then, suddenly, I spotted Keith’s cab. He rolled the window down and said, “Get in!” I hadn’t shown up on time, so he came looking for me.

I could have cried tears of thanks. Instead, I grinned wildly as we zoomed away from the rising tide.

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