#Gravestones Gold Coast
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Gravestones Gold Coast
Artistone offers a wide selection of gravestones on the Gold Coast, designed to provide comfort and solace to grieving families. Our gravestones are crafted with the utmost respect, reflecting the individuality of the loved ones they commemorate.
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The Christmas Mutiny of 1857
On 21 July 1857, a whaler named Junior left New Bedford for the Greenland Whaling Grounds in the Sea of Okhotsk near Japan. The voyage got off to a bad start as the sailors were served terrible food. There were three barrels of mouldy bread and a large amount of rotten meat filled with maggots left over from a previous voyage. When it finally got so bad that the men became ill, 24-year-old Cyrus Plummer and the other men on his watch went straight to 27-year-old Captain Archibald Mellen, still a very inexperienced captain, to complain.
Off Greenland—Whaler Seeking Open Water - by William Bradford between 1823-1892 (x)
Plummer was a boat steerer and harpooner who harpooned the whale and then sat in the back of the whaleboat and took the rudder. He was not afraid of whales or people. The mistake he made was that he went over his superior, First Mate William Nelson. The first officer known for being a cruel man, got the opportunity to take revenge one day when Plummer was on watch at the wheel. Plummer had been fascinated watching the flight of an albatross, a giant seabird. His reverie caused him to veer slightly off course, and Nelson witnessed the incident. The mate approached and struck Plummer on the jaw. Not one to back down from a fight, Plummer struck back and they struggled on deck. When Plummer fell down and hit his head, Nelson took advantage of the situation and knocked him down without mercy. Eventually, the captain broke up the fight. Plummer was punished for insubordination for contradicting an officer or hitting him. He was hung by his thumbs in the rigging and received 20 lashes from Nelson, which he executed very happily.
Plummer, Rike, Cartha and Stanley, 1858 (x)
Plummer recovered, but he was now obsessed with taking over the ship. He conferred with a group of sailors and they devised a plan. On Christmas night 1857, Plummer and nine of his crew, including John Hall, William Cartha, Cornelius Burns, Jacob Rike, Charles Stanley and William Herbert, called a mutiny. They killed all the officers on board except the first mate. They allowed the first mate to steer the ship to Australia. The mutineers left the ship in two whaleboats loaded with supplies. When they reached the coast, they quarrelled and split up. Six of them were captured within days, but Plummer and Cartha, Rike, and Stanley managed to get to Sydney.
Captain Mellen’s gravestone (x)
After a night of drunken escapades, Plummer's comrades-in-arms were arrested at an inn and eventually sentenced to six years in prison in the United States. Plummer escaped through an open window but was arrested a few days later for stealing gold with a new gang he had joined. In prison he learned that two of the mutineers had been hanged in Port Albert, Australia.
Cyrus Plummer was brought back to the United States and sentenced to death by hanging on 24 June 1859. Just hours before his execution, the lucky mutineer's sentence was commuted to life imprisonment by President James Buchanan.
Plummers letter to the President to ask for his mercy (x)
Fifteen years later, the aged and ailing Plummer was pardoned by President Ulysses S. Grant. He was released from prison to freedom on 24 July 1874.
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Funeral Services and Memorial Gardens in Redland
A funeral service is an important event in any community and there are many different services that can be provided to celebrate the life of a loved one. However, choosing the right type of service can be a difficult decision, and it is important to consider the specific needs of your family. You can make the decision to have a cremation service in Redland or a burial in a graveyard or memorial garden. There are several benefits of cremation that may influence your choice.
A burial in Redland is a traditional service that has been used by families for generations. It is a time to remember a deceased family member and can be a comforting experience for the entire family. The Redland funeral homes will assist you in organising a beautiful service that is meaningful to the entire family and will celebrate your loved one. They will provide a full price list and explain all the costs associated with the funeral.
During a funeral services Redland, the casket is lowered into the ground and then covered with earth. A gravestone is then placed on top to finish the process. This is an extremely emotional time for the family members and friends of the deceased. Many people choose to avoid this event and opt for a cremation service in Redlands instead. A cremation can take place immediately following a funeral or days or weeks later. A memorial service is often held shortly after a cremation and is a wonderful opportunity for all of the family members to speak about their loved one and share memories.
The City of Redland operates two cemeteries and a memorial cremation garden in the southwestern section of the City. Hillside Memorial Park is the largest city-owned cemetery and is set among scenic rolling hills. This cemetery was established in 1886 and is the final resting place for many of Redlands’ pioneers and their families.
There is also the Bay Island Memorial Garden, which is a memorial space that allows for cremation interment with a discreet bronze memorial plaque. The Garden offers a more natural setting and can accommodate both casket and cremation burials. It is operated by the City of Redlands and is open to the public year-round.
You can make arrangements for a funeral or memorial service in Redland at any of the city’s funeral homes. Most of these are family owned and operated, offering a range of services to families that can be personalized and unique to your family. The services include funeral, memorial, and aftercare services as well as pre-planning options. They are committed to providing the best care for their clients and have been recognized by various awards over the years. The staff at these funeral homes are available 24 hours a day to answer any questions. You can visit their website to learn more about the services they offer.
Ruffles Funerals directors provide affordable burial and cremation funeral options in all areas of Brisbane, Ipswich, Moreton Bay, Logan, Redlands, Gold Coast and Tweed Heads. We are knowledgeable about the resources available in your community and respectful of all religious beliefs and customs.
#funeral services logan#funeral services redland#funeral services Ipswich#cremation services gold coast
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Ivy
How's one to know?
I'd meet you where the spirit meets the bones
“Down there where the spirit meets the bone” is the title of a Lucinda Williams album and a lyric in her song “Compassion”. Williams explained to The Huffington Post: "['Where the spirit meets the bone'] is just that place deep down inside all of us where nobody else can really see. Everybody has different ways of dealing with that. Some people get cynical, some people act like idiots or come across with the bad manners thing. Like yelling at you when you're in your car driving, and some guy's … road rage or whatever it is. The rude person in line who pushes ahead to get in line. Who knows what that person went through."
In a faith forgotten land
This seems to be both a reference to “False God” and a “Hoax” - “your faithless love’s the only hoax I believe in”. Taylor uses a lot of imagery about cheating, infidelity, and faithlessness - especially in folklore and evermore. I think this has multiple meanings - 1) tay seems to have a complicated relationship with religion and how her sexuality is perceived in certain religions, saying she “did something bad” or that her love is a “false god”, so I think that at times she talks about faithlessness while reconciling her sexuality with her Christianity, and 2) in the complicated bearding relationships that she and Karlie have, Taylor feels like she is being cheated on because jerk gets all the glory of being publicly recognized as Karlie’s lover.
In from the snow
Your touch brought forth an incandescent glow
Tarnished but so grand
This feels very “Illicit Affairs” - “started in beautiful room/meetings in parking lots”. The love isn’t what it was before, but it’s still something beautiful and real.
And the old widow goes to the stone every day
The “stone” here is a gravestone. The widow is visiting the grave of her lover and mourning their loss.
But I don't, I just sit here and wait
Couldn’t help but notice the similarities between the canvas and the pic of Kaylor in Big Sur - but now the tree has fallen and she waits alone.
Grieving for the living
However, Taylor is grieving for a relationship that has died, not a person, so there is no gravestone for her to go to, no comparable ritual for her to take part in as she processes her hurt.
This also pulls in ideas of duplicity that we saw in Coney Island, where there is one side of Taylor’s lover (Karlie!) that Taylor knows and a different side that she feels like she doesn’t. Through that lens, this line can mean that the side that Taylor loves isn’t there anymore and she is grieving the loss of that person.
Oh, goddamn
My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand
Taking mine, but it's been promised to another
Taylor is bearding. Both she and Karlie are contractually promised to other people - even when they are together and holding hands they can not truly be with each other.
Oh, I can't
Stop you putting roots in my dreamland
Taylor keeps telling people that she is writing about this imaginary dreamland in folklore and evermore, but it’s all based on her real relationships - and it shows. Tay can’t stop Karlie from coming out (not literally) in everything she writes.
My house of stone, your ivy grows
And now I'm covered in you
Even though Taylor has her armor on in her house of stone, her love for Karlie is always there.
This also continues the metaphor of Karlie in Taylor’s music. Even in her house of stone - her little cottage in the woods albums folklore and evermore, Karlie is all over her lyrics.
Finally, Ivy is an invasive species. Once it starts growing it’s almost impossible to remove. It comes back every time you try and pull it out.
I wish to know
The fatal flaw that makes you long to be
Magnificently cursed
Taylor doesn’t understand why Karlie keeps working with the people who she does. This seems to validate to ideas that Kaylors had last year, of Karlie’s contract ending, but her extending or continuing to engage for some reason.
He's in the room
Your opal eyes are all I wish to see
Opal means “to see a change of color” - Karlie’s eyes seem to change color based on the light and what she is wearing.
He wants what's only yours
This line refers to how the people who Karlie is in contractual relationships with, or has been in them with, (Jerk, Scoot) are interested only in controlling her and getting her power and reputation. They are not trying to help her.
[Chorus]
Clover blooms in the fields
Spring breaks loose, the time is near
What would he do if he found us out?
This is the line that is most obviously about Karlie, imo. There really is no straight explanation for this line. Either she is lgbtq or her lover is lgbtq.
The song started in winter but the winter and cold is almost over and we are now approaching spring.
Crescent moon, coast is clear
Spring breaks loose, but so does fear
He's gonna burn this house to the ground
Even when they are free, Kaylor is still afraid of retaliation and people who are out to get them and ruin their relationship (burn the house). Because of the masters situation and whatever mess Karlie’s contracts seem to be in, Kaylor still isn’t truly able to disengage from their demons.
How's one to know?
I'd live and die for moments that we stole
On begged and borrowed time
Again - we have “illicit affairs” themes here. Taylor loved every moment of their relationship and though their moments were in secret, they were her whole world. It also relates to the “gold clock” in Coney Island - with the time for love ticking away.
So tell me to run
Or dare to sit and watch what we'll become
And drink my husband's wine
OOF. This stanza. Taylor clearly spells out her two options. 1 - she leaves Karlie (”runs”) or 2 - The bearding and hiding erode their relationship over the years (as it seems like it may have been doing), while they continue to beard forever (drink my husband’s wine) and never come out in the open. This is such a sad line.
[Chorus]
So yeah, it's a fire
It's a goddamn blaze in the dark
And you started it
You started it
So yeah, it's a war
It's the goddamn fight of my life
And you started it
You started it
Another big OOF. This line really stings because it references when Kaylor “started it” and one of the first songs that Tay wrote about K - You Are In Love. “You understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars”. When Taylor wrote that line she was saying that she now understood why people would fight so hard to be with someone, but in Ivy we are at the other end of the journey and she is the one has been fighting the war for Karlie.
[Chorus]
#im sorry I feel like these keep turning out so sad but this album is really sad#evermore#taylor swift#Karlie Kloss#Kaylor#ivy
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and the tide brought us here
The trip to Rhodos Coast is an unusually lonely one, and the journey to reach its shores is one cloaked in silence. The saint finds herself unused to the empty space her father used to fill, and even more unused to the still quiet that surrounds her. She is nothing if not determined, however, and she manages to make the trek alone despite the small aches that plague her heart.
She would learn to disregard this loneliness; she must, for there are needs far greater than her own that she must fulfill.
( though her sorrow is disquieting, there persists a small comfort, found in the idea that her mother might endeavor to call her mature should she see her... perhaps she would even stroke her head and shower her with praise... )
The girl reaches the beach soon enough, and after moments of brisk walking, reaches st. cichol’s monument— or as she knows it better by, her mother’s headstone. Though it stood on the coast for centuries now, the marble looked untouched, and the small strip of sand it was erected on had barely eroded. The only proof of the passage of time were the wilted flowers that rested by its base.
“Mother... I apologize, it has been some time, has it not? Why, your flowers have even wilted!”
There is no response, of course, and no sound save for the constant crash of the ocean and the occasional call of a seabird, but the girl smiles anyways. Singing a soft, wordless tune, she carefully brings out a bouquet of forget-me-nots from her traveling pack, their twilight-blue petals slightly crumpled from the journey. She kneels, places them onto the ground, and hums with satisfaction.
“There. It is fortunate that I thought to bring my own. I hope you enjoy them, ruffled and imperfect they may be.”
Silence falls once more. Cerulean eyes travel from the grave to the horizon beyond it. The sun had long since begun its descent, evidenced by the streaks of gold and orange that painted the sea. Nighttime would soon be upon them, and with it, the darkness. She sighs.
“Mother... I cannot stay with you for long. Truthfully, I am only here for my staff. Times have changed...” her voice wavers, “They have changed so very drastically, mother, and so I am forced to claim what was mine once more.”
Regret finds its way to the pits of her stomach, fluttering like newly-emerging butterflies, fresh from their cocoons. She cannot help but feel a small pang of sadness at the idea that she came to her mother not to pay respects, but to ready herself for war. What a cruel world to live in, seeking steel and iron before seeking her mother.
“...You understand, do you not?” she asks, traces of doubt lined in the wary edge of her tone, “You have always taught me to swim along the current... to not fight the tide, but to flow with it, and to be satisfied with where it takes you.”
Her speaking soon fades. Her mother was strong; stronger than she could ever hope to be. Of course she would understand. Still, the melancholy lingers regardless. The Caduceus Staff’s weight was a burden she often found heavy to bear; little girls were not meant to wield staffs so young. Little girls were not meant to thread life into the dead; to weave broken flesh like crowns of gladiolus; to water the ground with their blood and watch the rosebushes bloom from the newly-baptized soil. Little girls were not meant to be strong; or sainted; or mature; or ashamed.
( little girls were supposed to have their mothers. )
But she is a little girl no more. No, she is a saint; and a student; and a healer; and mature. She is Flayn and she has outgrown the need for her mother. She is Flayn and she has gotten used the shock of death. She is Flayn, sometimes Cethleann, and she has grown enough to fit the hilt of the Caduceus between her palms comfortably, and to accept her saintdom without complaint.
The girl sighs, her exhale heavy, before nodding firmly.
“Ah, but there is no use for grief. I suppose the tides have brought me here today— back to you, for a fleeting moment, and back to my duty to my staff. And I suppose it is those very tides that will soon take me away from you as well.”
The girl-saint rises, dips her head low in a deep bow to her mother’s gravestone, and walks over to a small lockbox near the monument’s back to acquire up the very thing she had been seeking; the Caduceus Staff, wrapped in a linen so as to keep it immaculate and free from grime. She tucks it gently beneath her arm and turns to leave, but not without facing her mother one last time.
“Well, I shall be going now. I hope our future meetings may last longer, and I hope I may give you your flowers alongside father next time.”
FLAYN HAS ACQUIRED: THE CADUCEUS STAFF!
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American Gothic: Rural Ends of the Same Coast
Maine: Cemeteries are everywhere. From long fields to tiny lots, gravestones are checkered between businesses, neighborhoods, even in the street median at the center of town. The more you pay attention, the more you see death everywhere.
Florida: Roadkill are everywhere. From deer to armadillo, any stretch of road will have grisly remains playing tic-tac-toe with passing cars. The more you pay attention, the more you see death everywhere.
Maine: Your friends finally invite you to see the rest of their apartment. You haven’t seen the whole place already? Hardly. There’s a whole ‘nother abandoned floor, the cleanest room used reluctantly for storage: vertical-striped wallpaper in age-spotted red, blue, and yellow with low-sloped ceilings making it hard to stand upright. You hope it wasn’t a nursery. You feel spiderwebs brush your face on the staircase like strands of hair, but nothing is there.
Florida: Your friends finally invite you to see the river. There’s a river behind their property? Well, only for fishing and never swimming. They shine a flashlight over the muggy swamp. Deer, raccoon, and owl eyes reflect greenish-gold in the sweeping spotlight. Up in the trees, a pair of red eyes are wide enough apart to be concerning. Possums and foxes can be red, but this is way too big. Everyone pauses, considering. Not sure what that could be! The tour continues.
Maine: You walk down the claustrophobically narrow creaky stairs in the wee hours of the morning. A brief lilting melody is whistled distinctly from below in the dark, and you pause. The only other person still awake is upstairs. You continue to the bathroom, determined. Before you flush, footsteps creak across the old wooden floor past the bathroom. You find your roommate still upstairs. They haven’t gone anywhere and they definitely haven’t been whistling.
Florida: When parties get too loud, footsteps thump across the cabin’s tin roofing, slower and heavier than any animal should be. There’s a sudden knocking at the front door, but you’re in the middle of nowhere. Everybody apologizes. There’s no discussion about who believes in spirits. Everybody just apologizes. Uneasy laughs about how far away the next neighbors live. The party continues, but huddled a little closer and quieter.
Maine: Your roommate rearranged their whole bedroom, but left small shelves in oddly the same place. You ask why. There’s a tiny door they don’t like to look at. Excuse me, there’s a tiny what-now? You ask what’s inside. They don’t know. They’ve lived here for years and never wanted to check. Turns out there’s a crawl space with an antique doll. That night, you both have the same dream about a little girl crying at the foot of your bed. You leave hard candy and a comforting word. The shelves never get moved again.
Florida: You’re walking back home through the woods from your friend’s house after dark. Spanish moss curtains the path with shifting shadows. Your footsteps in the sandy dirt add another rhythm to the frogs, crickets, and owls. You stop to look up at the moon, and from behind you, there’s one extra step. You squint back into the darkness. After a moment, you continue. Stop experimentally. Two crunching steps behind you. Shine a flashlight now. Nothing. You don’t stop again.
Maine: The local university’s auditorium is said to be haunted by a world-famous opera singer from that town. The room feels grand yet sadly too quiet. Sometimes you hear an orchestra tuning up when the building is nearly empty. Something keeps drawing you back. You never visit the museum, but in that auditorium, you always feel homesick as though you’ve been away for too long.
Florida: You stop to listen to slow, soothing music coming from an old plantation house. It sounds like a music box... or maybe harpsichord. The harder you listen, the softer it gets. Then you realize the house obviously needs repairs, but at first, you could’ve sworn it had fresh paint and fancy furniture behind clean windows. It feels inviting and ornate... even though it’s now falling apart, as though it were still full of life.
#gothic#rural gothic#ghost#ghosts#american gothic#florida#florida gothic#southern gothic#maine#maine gothic#new england gothic#witch#witches#witchcraft#witchblr#witchy
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Prompt #2: Bargain
@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast
Many knew that the head of the Lawrence Clan, Solomon Lawrence, perished in battle - a clash of clan factions, or a heated family feud, as word of mouth murmured. Had more people known the truth surrounding his death, would my father's grave be as flooded with gifts as it was now? Bouquets of Nymeian lilies, books, framed photographs, candles unlit due to the wax melted to the very bottom. Trinkets and jewelry bearing both the sign of Halone and the Lawrence family crest made the tombstone shine above all the others. By comparison, my 'gift' of nothing but my own presence suddenly felt self-centered... ungrateful and unforgiving in comparison. Yet, here I was, by his grave like a lost pup waiting for a master that would never return.
A gentle brush of my hand moved away some of the collected snow. My eyes gazed upon the name upon the grave marker.
Solomon Lawrence.
Clan Leader. Father. Uncle. Archbishop. A friend and leader to us all.
May he rest in peace in Halone's hallowed halls.
Father.
Father indeed.
Father to everyone else, perhaps, but no father to me. Perhaps if I knelt by his tombstone a little longer, it would glare at me, just like father would?
Sigh. I shook my head. I didn't come here to berate him. By that same token, surely the tombstone wouldn't berate me for wasting its time? Even now, I could hear my father's voice - a particular growl he reserved just for me. A curt snap that asked what I wanted. After all, the faster I stated my business, the faster he could leave.
I closed my eyes. No, I had to be honest with myself. I came here to look for answers... and from a deceased man no less. Answers as to why my heart felt heavy after that fated day. To why I had lost the will to fight after that battle against you. And why my spear felt so heavy, as though lodged in stone?
The more I looked at your gravestone, the easier I could envision your face. Your scowl. Your clenched teeth from your particular scowl. If you were here now in person, what would I say to you? What would I ask of you?
"Ahem."
A lovely start.
A beginning seemed like a sufficient start. But where would I begin? 'Good evening, father? Do you remember the Executioner? The one you believed would change the clan for the better? She has perished now, and along with her, her ideals to turn Hydaelyn into fodder for her destruction. Do you still believe in her? In my opinion, the citizens of Ishgard still await the day for our stone walls to turn to gold.'
Unlike my father, the tombstone remained in place just as still as it had ever been. Yet, it gave just as much of an answer as my father would had he been alive.
Could I mention the way of the spear? How I trained like a dog in order to master it, only to have our first and only taste of combat together with you walking away as I was a complete stranger? Pfft. A stranger. Was that all I was to you? I barely ever saw you. You spent more time with everyone else than me. You loved others. Praised others. Exalted others. Yet, your only son may as well have been dirt on your shoe - something to snarl at when you realized it existed, then wipe it off like it was never there. No, dirt would have been closer to you, wouldn't it? It would have stuck around longer than you would have been around me!
I slammed my spear into the ground. The sudden shhf of metal slicing through snow and dirt filled my ears. A burning sensation filled me on the inside. Anger. Rage. All those emotions I attempted to bury within.
That day... that very battle... I knew what the Executioner had planned was wrong. Yet, you and the rest of the clan believed she was right, that she would usher the Lawrence Clan to the dawning of a new era. To that end, you became what she wanted you to become. A memory as fresh as though I stand in battle now. Your fangs bared, your scales gleaming, your claws bared and ready to strike. I'm sorry, father. I had no other choice. It was either kill or be killed.
I tried to pull my spear from the ground, but it may as well have been lodged in stone. The more I tried to pull on the spear, the more I saw the voidsent you became. The more I felt that surge of power within me and the roar of a dragon as this very same spear embedded in you. And the more I saw that image, the heavier my spear became.
My fingers slipped away from said spear. No use. I may as well have more success to lift a stone pillar.
The tombstone said nothing.
I was wasting my time, just like my father would always say. I was here to attempt closure, wasn't I? Considering a lack of response I would get, I may as well say whatever was on my mind. Taking one final deep breath, I opened my mouth to speak.
"Father," I said in a whisper, my voice trembling slightly, "of what means should I have taken for you to be proud of me?"
As expected, the tombstone had nothing to say. What was I thinking? Leaving my spear behind, I walked away.
((I did angsty this time since I did silly last time. My first thought was the bargaining stage of the five stages of grief and loss. I also debated real hard about putting in flashbacks to exactly explain all the context, but in the end, I thought to leave this as-is and just leave Ash to drop some hints. Thanks to @abeat for helping me out!))
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why is this a children's song
original danish here
Far up behind the coasts of Norway / lives a widower
He had one daughter / Juliane was her name
She loved a sailor / who went out on the sea
Then she asked her father / "May I marry him?"
"No you shall marry a merchant / with gold and money"
The she went down by the beach / and drank pure poison
When the sailor heard this: / "Juliane is dead!"
He fell over on the deck / and said these words
"Put me in the same casket / put me in the same grave"
On the gravestone it says: / "Juliane and her husband"
For roses and violets / can never be torn apart
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Islam Enters the Far East
New Post has been published on https://www.truth-seeker.info/jewels-of-islam/islam-enters-the-far-east/
Islam Enters the Far East
By Aisha Stacey
Islam Enters the Far East
While conflict was an integral part in the spread of Islam in the Middle East this was not the case in China or Southeast Asia. In this part of the world, Islam meandered along following well-established trade routes. It is said that the first Muslim to visit China was Sa’d ibn Abi Waqqas, who was the uncle of Prophet Muhammad, may the mercy and blessings of God be upon him. It is thought that he arrived in Canton (Guangzhou) in 627 CE. In 651 CE Sa’d visited China for the third time to set up an embassy. The Tang Emperor, Gaozong, received the envoy and ordered the construction of the Memorial mosque in Canton. Thus, Canton (Guangzhou) became one of the first Muslim settlements in China.
The first Arab traders to reach China had travelled along the Southern Silk Road, a maritime route that brought an intense exchange in ideas, goods and people. Although western academia debates when Islam arrived in China, Prophet Muhammad and his companions certainly would have been aware of China and the Chinese aware of the events taking place outside their area.
Further north, along the Central Asian Silk Road, that went from the Middle East through Central Asia to China via Samarqand, Kashgar and Xi’an, a similar exchange took place. It brought an increasing number of Turkic and Persian populations eager to convert others to the new religion coming out of the Middle East. Many of the Muslims who visited China settled and married local women which helped to foster closer ties. Then hundreds of years later, countless Muslims migrated to China during the Yuan Dynasty (1271–1368), when whole populations shifted across the vast Mongol Empire.
A detailed account of the arrival of Islam and settlement of Muslims in China can be found here: https://www.islamreligion.com/articles/486/viewall/islam-in-china/
Today, although Muslims make up less than two percent of the population, there are more than 20 million Muslims in China. Ten of China’s 55 officially recognized ethnic minorities are Muslim. According to government figures, there are 35 thousand Islamic places of worship and 45 thousand imams in China.[1] However, even after 1400 years Muslims who are culturally Chinese must justify their devotion to One God to their skeptical non-Muslim neighbors and do so in an increasingly intrusive state.
Southeast Asia is a sub-region of Asia, consisting of the countries that are geographically south of China, east of India, west of New Guinea and north of Australia. Islam is the most widely practiced religion with more than 240 million adherents. Just how did Islam spread into Indonesia and Malaysia? It travelled on the monsoon winds, and with the Arab traders who carried God’s message. Indonesia now has a Muslim population of 88% and Malaysia has a Muslim population of 61.3%.[2]
Spread across a chain of 17 to 18 thousand islands Indonesia lies between Asia and Australia. It has the world’s largest Muslim population and Southeast Asia’s biggest economy. Indonesia stretches along the equator and 922 of its islands are permanently inhabited. The country’s strategic position fostered inter-island and international trade which in turn fundamentally shaped Indonesian history.
According to early accounts from the Abbasid caliphate, the Indonesian archipelago was famous among Muslim sailors due to its abundance of precious spice trade commodities such as nutmeg, cloves and galangal. Arab traders had settled there by the 13th century CE and the gravestone of Sultan Malik Al-Saleh, dated 1297 CE, is one of the oldest Islamic inscriptions to be found in Indonesia.[3] This indicates that the first ruler of Samudra, a Sumatran state, was Muslim. Furthermore, and supplying more verifiable evidence for early Islam in Indonesia, famous Venetian traveler Marco Polo stopped in northern Sumatra on his way back to Europe from China in 1292.[4] He visited an Islamic town named Perlak. Arab traveler Ibn Battuta visited the same town in 1345-46 and wrote that its monarch was a Sunni Muslim.[5]
Islam spread into the Indonesian islands slowly via one of two routes. The native people came into contact with Islam and converted, or foreign Muslims, from India, China and the Middle East, visited Indonesia and settled there mixing in with the local communities. It seems that the newcomers did not force their own customs and culture on the local populations but instead adopted their local culture while introducing the Oneness of God and the requirements of the Shariah. Islam was carried from island to island. Each time the inhabitants of an island accepted Islam; they then worked hard to convert others.
Particular consideration should be given to Aceh and Sultan Iskandar Muda (1607–1636) the twelfth Sultan of Aceh who took the kingdom to its most powerful level and instigated interaction with the Ottoman Empire.[6] In the first half of the seventeenth century, Aceh was the dominant economic and political power of the region. It captured and controlled the northern half of the Malay Peninsula and northern and parts of central Sumatra.[7]
The entire Malay Archipelago was at one time known as Malaysia; however, a geographically reduced Malaysia emerged out of the territories colonized by Britain in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. In 1963 parts of Malaysia, to the east and the west united into one country. Western Malaysia stretches from the Thai border to the island of Singapore and is on the southern tip of the Malay Peninsula. The territories of Sabah and Sarawak separated by the country of Brunei, on the north end of Borneo, make up the area known as Eastern Malaysia.[8]
Bountiful natural resources such as tin, camphor, brazilwood, ebony and gold can be found in Malaysia’s interior.[9] Thus through the ages, ships have used the coast of the peninsula to dock and transact business. Trade on the Strait of Malacca helped to create economic links between China, India and the Middle East, and thus Islam slipped effortlessly down the archipelago with Arab, Persian and Indian traders who controlled business in the area. It was a peaceful conquest.
The name Malacca comes from the Arabic word Malakut. An Arab trading post had been established in the 8th Century CE and Islam spread throughout the Malay Peninsula in the same way it spread in Indonesia; either the local inhabitants were attracted to and embraced Islam, or traders decided to settle in the area.
By the time the Spanish and Portuguese arrived in the early 16th century, Islam was firmly established in Southeast Asia. It continued to develop in the 17th century when Arab traders and scholars purposefully migrated to the area. European powers, or trading companies representing them, began to encroach on the region, establishing themselves as participants in its economic and political life. Despite colonialism by the 19th century, Southeast Asia had established itself as an important part of the Muslim world.
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FOOTNOTES:
[1] The Religious Policy of China. https://www.muslim2china.com/MuslimInfo/Religious-Policy-of-China.html
[2] The Muslim Population of Indonesia. Pew Research Centre.
Muslim Population of Indonesia
Malaysia Demographics Profile 2018 – IndexMundi
https://www.indexmundi.com/malaysia/demographics_profile.html
[3] Ancient Southeast Asia. John Norman Miksic & Goh Geok Yian Taylor & Francis, 2016 p497
[4] The explorer Marco Polo. http://archive.aramcoworld.com/issue/200504/the.explorer.marco.polo.htm
[5] Indonesia – THE COMING OF ISLAM – Country Studies
http://countrystudies.us/indonesia/5.htm
[6] Architecture and the Politics of Identity in Indonesia. Izziah Hasan 2009
https://digital.library.adelaide.edu.au/dspace/bitstream/2440/65554/8/02whole.pdf
[7] Islam in South East Asia. P 21
https://www.encyclopedia.com/environment/encyclopedias-almanacs-transcripts-and-maps/islam-islam-southeast-asia
[8] Countries and their Cultures. http://www.everyculture.com/Ja-Ma/Malaysia.html
[9] http://factsanddetails.com/southeast-asia/Malaysia/sub5_4a/entry-3615.html
Adapted with editorial adjustments from https://www.islamreligion.com/
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The Main Street of Reefton
It’s not exactly one of those places that makes you think Wow! I must visit there but like a lot of the little towns we have found in the South Island there is so much more to Reefton than first meets the eye. We had stopped just off the main street with a view to grabbing a few supplies from one of the local shops and then moving on.
But as is often the case in small towns no sooner had Sarah stepped out of the motorhome than a couple of the locals just passing by struck up a conversation, turns out they were also motorhomers and after telling us all about the must see’s in town told us about the Reefton Racecourse a CAP (#6531) at the princely sum of $2 per person per night with fresh water but no toilets or dump station. It’s also only about 600 metres from the main street so very handy to town.
After a quick drive down the road we decided that we would park up at the Racecourse while we at least investigated the area. So we dragged the bikes out of the garage area and set off up the main street.
There is a really good I Site here complete with a replica mine inside as well as lots of graphic cards about the area. You can also visit Google Play to download the App they have had made for the Powerhouse Walk around the town. it’s really very good and great to see small town NZ investing in themselves. The app gives you a verbal commentary of what was where and when as you take the short 2.5 km walk.
So with the App downloaded we set off to experience the Powerhouse Walk. Reefton was the first town in the South Island to install electric power generated from a small power station that they built on the banks of the Inangahua River that runs along the back of the town. First we needed to ride to the Eastern end of the town and cross the suspension bridge that spans the river. It was time to dismount and push the bikes across given how narrow the bridge was.
There’s not really much left to see along the walk just some old concrete ruins, although there are plans to rebuild the power station within the next two years. As we passed this area we came across a group of four taking photos of each other doing the decent thing we offered to take a photo of the four of them. Two brothers (twins) their sister and her friend.
We got talking to the twins, Nigel and Stefan McKay, who it appears are local icon’s even set to become the face of the advertising behind the new Reefton Distillery despite the fact that neither of the drinks alcohol. When Sarah mentioned that we had just come from Springs Junction – DOC camp they said that they knew it well in fact they where involved in the recovery of the bodies from the landslide all those years ago (refer previous blog). Later on when we met some other people in town you just had to say the twins and everyone knew who you were talking about. (Photo lifted from Facebook)
After finishing the powerhouse walk we rode around the town making the decision that we would spend the night. That night we received a sampling of how much it rains on the West Coast when at around 2am both of us where woken when a flash of lightning followed immediately by an incredibly loud clap of thunder. For the next 30 or so minutes as the thunderstorm raged it was as though someone was emptying a swimming pool directly on top of the motorhome!
The following morning with the rain easing we wondered what else there might be to see in town. There are two blogs that we have been following Chris Miller’s Bugger it we are off and Shellie Evan’s Two Go Tiki Touring So we checked out both of these to see what they had written about Reefton. Chris Miller had a great blog about his time here mentioning in detail the Miners Hut something we had missed the day prior.
With this in mind we got some of the domestic duties out of the way. They do never seem to go away and then set off into town to visit the Miners Hut. This is right in the main street so how we missed it the day prior is completely beyond me. The hut is a replica miners hut from the early days of prospecting in the area and whilst that’s interesting what really makes the place special are the four bearded miners that staff the place.
Actually you probably cannot call them staff as they don’t get paid to be there but do collect donations to keep the good work going. All four of the are real characters with an extensive knowledge of the history of the area and are very pro mining using the now abandoned Oceania Gold Mine just up the road where extensive replanting is underway to restore the land as an example of how it can be done correctly. The hut itself was originally built by Oceania as part of their legacy to the town some 25 years ago.
One of the really interesting things about the hut was it’s wooden chimney. When one of the bearded four told me about this I thought he was joking but no the place has a wooden chimney. This is secured to the building by two wire cables that you release in case of fire and the chimney then falls away from the hut protecting it from fire. I would never have believed it had I not seen it with my own eyes. Also of special interest is their “Sky” dish which they tell me requires a new can to be mounted each time you wish to change the channel or every time the All Backs score!
The town is another of places that we have found in the South Island with hidden gems round every corner including it’s fair share of the old and the new. It would make some house buyers in Auckland cry to see a new house @$229.000. The old gravestones had all been moved from the original cemetery to create a park but at least they have acknowledged the people that they knew where buried there.
The following day we moved onto the Slab Hut Creek – DOC Camp (#6537) a really pretty camp set alongside what is usually a gentle stream but with the rain 2 nights ago it was still a roaring torrent but at least the water level had fallen from where it was. If you look at the photos above you can see the line of debris along the lawn where the stream burst it banks.
As you can see from the sign this is also an area were you can fossick for gold but with the stream running as high as it was this was not going to be an option for us but we did talk to a couple who had been prospecting before the rain who had collected around $300 worth of the stuff.
We parked in one of the designated bays that have native trees marking the boundaries on both sides giving some privacy if you wanted. For us it was also a chance to try out the generator and I must say we were both surprised how quiet it was.
There was a pathway right next to our spot that led upstream so it was out with the new tramping boots for a bit of a test run. The pathway follows the stream really closely with quite a few areas where the day before the steam was probably flowing over the path. You can see in the photos above that it has also scoured under the tree roots in a few places so these trees will probably be floating down stream shortly.
Sadly not 15 minutes into the walk we reached an area where the path had been completely washed away with a torrent now flowing in the area we should have been walking and the bush was to thick to try to circumnavigate so we returned to the motorhome.
One cheeky fella that deserves special mention is this native Robin who was so inquisitive I wouldn’t have been surprised if it had come right into the camper. We have come across a few of these during our walks but it’s always one of those things that by the time you get the camera ready the bird has moved on so it was good to get a couple of great shots.
We decided that we would also visit the old gold mining area of Waiuta. The place is located about 15kms from the main road with the first 8 kms tar sealed and an easy drive but the last 7 kms is a good quality gravel road. What you maybe cannot see in these photos is that the road is only as wide as the motorhome with a drop on one side and a cliff on the other there was absolutely no place for anyone coming the other way to get past us on this winding piece of road that climbs up to the old town. Thankfully we met no one coming the other way either on the way in or out.
There isn’t much left of Waiuta these days with only 6 buildings standing from the original days and the population of 500 is now non existent so it’s a lonely walk around among the ruins for the two of us, we were the only ones here. Because almost all the buildings have gone walking along the road you might see the odd chimney standing but in most cases it’s just a signboard standing there telling you what used to be there.
The ruins that are left are the ones that were not worth carting away once the mine closed. After a collapse at the entrance pit it was deemed not worth trying to renter the mine and it was closed. Within 12 months almost all of the inhabitants of the town had left taking with them all the timber that had been used to build the buildings so they could establish a new house in a new town.
Wandering around the town we discovered the site of the original find as well as some evidence of mining including a couple of mine shafts, not that I would have entered them even if you had paid me to do so.
What is left intact at the site of the mine is in a rather poor state of repair but the buildings are all open meaning you are free to wander around and explore. It does give you a sense standing here of what it must have been like when it was all running. with the miners changing shifts and the battery stamper going 24/7 crushing the quartz to extract the gold.
Those buildings that are still standing are either like the one on the left held up by who knows what or have been restored like the lodge on the left that is available for hire through DOC. Or waiting to be restored like the pale yellow house which the local preservation society is trying to slowly restore.
It was not till we had left Waiuta that we found out that you are welcome to freedom camp here and there are plenty of spots where you could do this although most places are a little exposed with the old village standing at the top of a hill. If you so decide to stay or visit I hope you are lucky like us and find no other traffic on the road on the way in or out as it really is narrow and windy.
Reefton and the Surrounds It's not exactly one of those places that makes you think Wow! I must visit there but like a lot of the little towns we have found in the South Island there is so much more to Reefton than first meets the eye.
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The Christmas Mutiny of 1857
On 21 July 1857, a whaler named Junior left New Bedford for the Greenland Whaling Grounds in the Sea of Okhotsk near Japan. The voyage got off to a bad start as the sailors were served terrible food. There were three barrels of mouldy bread and a large amount of rotten meat filled with maggots left over from a previous voyage. When it finally got so bad that the men became ill, 24-year-old Cyrus Plummer and the other men on his watch went straight to 27-year-old Captain Archibald Mellen, still a very inexperienced captain, to complain.
Off Greenland—Whaler Seeking Open Water - by William Bradford between 1823-1892 (x)
Plummer was a boat steerer and harpooner who harpooned the whale and then sat in the back of the whaleboat and took the rudder. He was not afraid of whales or people. The mistake he made was that he went over his superior, First Mate William Nelson. The first officer known for being a cruel man, got the opportunity to take revenge one day when Plummer was on watch at the wheel. Plummer had been fascinated watching the flight of an albatross, a giant seabird. His reverie caused him to veer slightly off course, and Nelson witnessed the incident. The mate approached and struck Plummer on the jaw. Not one to back down from a fight, Plummer struck back and they struggled on deck. When Plummer fell down and hit his head, Nelson took advantage of the situation and knocked him down without mercy. Eventually, the captain broke up the fight. Plummer was punished for insubordination for contradicting an officer or hitting him. He was hung by his thumbs in the rigging and received 20 lashes from Nelson, which he executed very happily.
Plummer, Rike, Cartha and Stanley, 1858 (x)
Plummer recovered, but he was now obsessed with taking over the ship. He conferred with a group of sailors and they devised a plan. On Christmas night 1857, Plummer and nine of his crew, including John Hall, William Cartha, Cornelius Burns, Jacob Rike, Charles Stanley and William Herbert, called a mutiny. They killed all the officers on board except the first mate. They allowed the first mate to steer the ship to Australia. The mutineers left the ship in two whaleboats loaded with supplies. When they reached the coast, they quarrelled and split up. Six of them were captured within days, but Plummer and Cartha, Rike, and Stanley managed to get to Sydney.
Captain Mellen’s gravestone (x)
After a night of drunken escapades, Plummer's comrades-in-arms were arrested at an inn and eventually sentenced to six years in prison in the United States. Plummer escaped through an open window but was arrested a few days later for stealing gold with a new gang he had joined. In prison he learned that two of the mutineers had been hanged in Port Albert, Australia.
Cyrus Plummer was brought back to the United States and sentenced to death by hanging on 24 June 1859. Just hours before his execution, the lucky mutineer's sentence was commuted to life imprisonment by President James Buchanan.
Plummers letter to the President to ask for his mercy (x)
Fifteen years later, the aged and ailing Plummer was pardoned by President Ulysses S. Grant. He was released from prison to freedom on 24 July 1874.
#naval history#whaler mutiny#1857#christmas mutiny#i almost forgot it#and no it is not these special mutiny#that will come as well#age of sail
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How to Lower the Cost of Funerals and Cremation in Australia
When planning the funeral of a loved one or pre-planning your own, it’s important to know that you have many options available to you. While it’s still very common to have a traditional funeral service, cremation is becoming an increasingly popular choice for Australian families. A recent study found that the cost of a funeral can be as much as $13,000, which can cause significant stress on a family after the loss of a friend or relative. Fortunately, there are some ways to help lower the cost of cremation in Australia.
The most expensive aspect of a funeral is the cost of the burial plot, followed by the funeral services. This is because the prices of burial plots have been rising rapidly due to the shrinking land supply. However, other costs can also add up, such as transport fees, coffin or casket hire and the cost of a memorial service.
Choosing a cremation package that only includes the essential services can be a good way to save money. A basic funeral package usually includes the transfer of the body into the care of a funeral director, a simple wooden or cardboard casket and any required government paperwork, such as the death certificate. This package can be as little as $3,000, although it will increase if you wish to have a viewing or have a funeral service beforehand.
Another option to consider is a direct cremation, which can be less than half the price of a traditional funeral. With a direct cremation, the body is simply transferred into the crematorium without a ceremony or mourners present. Prices for direct cremations vary between funeral homes, so it’s best to ask for an itemised quote before committing. However, it’s worth pointing out that the cost of a direct cremation isn’t necessarily cheaper than a traditional funeral as some costs will still apply such as professional fees for the funeral director, cost of a gravestone or headstone and any additional charges from the crematorium or burial ground.
If you choose a cremation service, you will need to decide what you would like to do with the ashes. Some people choose to keep them at home, while others prefer to scatter them in a special place that holds fond memories for them. There are also memorial urns that can be used to hold the ashes, which come in a range of styles and materials. There are also fixed memorials that can be erected, such as monuments, trees and gardens, which can help to preserve the location.
There are also funeral bonds and funeral insurance plans that can be a great way to help lower the cost of funerals. These can help you pay for a funeral or cremation in the event of your death, which will remove some of the financial stress from your loved ones and ensure that they receive the service that you want them to have. A prepaid funeral plan is also an excellent option to consider, as it locks in the cost of your funeral and can save you thousands.
Ruffles Funerals directors provide affordable burial and cremation funeral options in all areas of Brisbane, Ipswich, Moreton Bay, Logan, Redlands, Gold Coast and Tweed Heads. We are knowledgeable about the resources available in your community and respectful of all religious beliefs and customs.
#cost of cremation in australia#cremation services near me#funeral services sunshine coast#funeral planning
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Sometimes you have to admit defeat. I had come to Wales to run and walk in the Brecon Beacons and along the coast. Unfortunately I arrived at the same time as Storm Eleanor. This meant my day one run in the Brecon Beacons had to be aborted, as winds were getting too high and my day two planned coastal run would be too dangerous. So I jumped on a train and headed to Merthyr Tydfil.
A walk from Merthyr Tydfil
Having discovered a walk on the BBC website (link available at the bottom of the blog) I gathered my maps and Brew and I stepped out into the wild weather.
In the interests of honesty I have to say the first part of the walk was uninspiring. This was in part because it was raining horizontally. Leaving a large town to head into the countryside will usually take you through some less attractive suburbs. Joining the Taff Trail for the first part of my route I found myself constantly stopping Brew from standing on broken glass.
I should have stopped to admire the Pont y Cafnau bridge; the world’s oldest surviving iron bridge. Instead I just glanced at it in a weather induced grump. For the next few miles I continued along the Taff Trail, high above the River Taf Fechan. If you are following this walk you can also take the lower path, which runs beside the river here. The path I was on was paved and easy walking but the lower path is probably more attractive.
Things Start To Look Better
After crossing the Pontsarn Viaduct at 3.3 miles I followed a disused railway line for a little while. This was once the Brecon and Merthyr Railway. Its steep gradient earned it the nickname Breakneck Railway, due to the high numbers of accidents. Easy to see why it fell into disuse!
Shortly a path to the left took me down some steep steps towards the river. Here evidence of Storm Eleanor and previous storms was to be seen in the fallen trees everywhere – some which needed to be scrambled over and through.
Slipping and sliding up a field on the other side of the river I came to my favourite part of the walk; the ruins of Vaynor Church, built in 1295. The walk description talks about the current church (which is next to the ruined one) but barely mentions the captivating ruins and moss covered graveyard of the original church. I spent ten minutes wandering around the old church structure and the gravestones before Brew gave me his best bored look and we moved on.
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“Come on in, don’t be shy.”
I had done some very important research about this walk and found that there was a dog friendly pub half way round. Spotting a sign I headed for the pub, then hesitated outside. Brew and I were soaking and pretty mud to boot. Quickly towelling Brew down outside I cautiously opened the door to be greeted by the landlord “Come on in, don’t be shy.”
Having ordered a half of Welsh Gold Bullmastiff and been told “pay when you leave” I felt thoroughly happy. For half an hour I enjoyed the atmosphere in the lovely Aberglais Inn before heading back into the wind and rain.
Facing The Storm
Back on the route we crossed the Pontsarn Bridge and peered into the river gorge. This part of the river is known as Blue Pool but today the water gushed and foamed in a rust coloured mass. We came now to an out and back arm of the route, leading up steep Morlais Hill to the ruins of Morlais Castle. I was keen to get some climbing in my legs and this certainly provided that! It also made me realise just why it was a good idea to stay away from the coast and higher hills today.
As we emerged onto the top the wind, which had been behind us, showed its full force. Turning to go back down I was almost knocked off my feet. Brew and I crouched low until we could walk safely and slide our way back down to the road.
This Footpath Is Closed
On the opposite side of the Taf Fechan now, we were on the final leg of our walk. Approaching a gate I made the mistake of reading a council notice attached. The path back to Merthyr Tydfil was deemed dangerous and was closed.
Obviously I would never be so foolhardy as to pretend I hadn’t read this notice. I certainly wouldn’t set out along a dangerous, closed path…
But I imagine that if I had it would have been one of the most beautiful parts of the walk. I imagine the stroll through the wooded limestone gorge with the river crashing and tumbling beside me would have bought a smile to my face. I even imagine it would have evoked memories of canyoning in France and Scotland. Below you can see a video of my imagination.
Sadly I can’t for the life of me remember how I did get back to Merthyr Tydfil whilst avoiding that dangerous path. Maybe I imagined myself there.
Back To The Train
Before heading for home I visited the grounds of Cyfarthfa Castle. This is where the walk officially starts and there is free parking here.
Despite the less than promising start and the interesting weather I really enjoyed this walk. Being away on your own (doggy company excluded) means you need a little extra reserve when things aren’t going well. Not having someone to turn to and ask ‘what do you think we should do?’ or joke about the situation with can be tough. But ultimately whether you enjoy a day out is up to you and sometimes it means turning your mindset around.
If you fancy doing this walk you can download the full information sheet here. Enjoy your day out.
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Merthyr Tydfil: A Walk in Wales Sometimes you have to admit defeat. I had come to Wales to run and walk in the Brecon Beacons and along the coast.
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Inchcolm: Medieval Jewel in the Firth of Forth
by Annie Whitehead
Happenstance found me in a boat heading out from South Queensferry to the Island of Inchcolm, the pilot announcing that passengers may disembark to explore, to be collected on the boat's return some two hours later. Two hours? That's a long time. Turns out, it wasn't really long enough to explore.
Inchcolm, an island in the Firth of Forth in south-east Scotland, means Island of Colm, (possibly Saint Columba, although Columba had no known links to the island) and its medieval abbey can be seen from miles around.
It's likely, though, that before the abbey was built, the island was first settled by religious hermits. Tradition has it that the Danes defeated by King Macbeth in the eleventh century at the Battle of Kinghorn paid large sums of gold to have their dead buried on the holy isle. There is a hogback gravestone on display, which was once thought to be a monument to the Danish leader, but has now been dated to the tenth century.
There is also a tenth century stone cross shaft, further evidence of the island's being inhabited in early medieval times,
although we have to jump forward a couple of centuries before the history of the island begins to take recognisable shape.
The story goes that in 1123, King Alexander I was attempting to cross the Firth of Forth and was blown off course by a gale. For three days he was forced to take shelter on Inchcolm, looked after by a hermit. Safely back on the mainland, the king vowed to build a monastery on the island to give thanks for his deliverance. However, it was Alexander's brother, David I, who invited Augustinian canons to settle on the island. The earliest surviving charter dates from around 1165, with Bishop Gregory of Dunkeld gifting the property to the Prior and canons of Inchcolm.
Thus the first church was built in the twelfth-century, with the bell-tower being added around the year 1200, and the choir was extended in the 1260s. A remnant from the original choir can still be seen in the abbey ruins: a wall-painting which depicts a gathering of clergy. When the new choir was completed, Bishop John de Leycestre, who died in 1214, was re-interred and it is thought that this painting depicts his entombment.
The bishop's body would have been embalmed, wrapped in waxed cloth and dressed before being carried to the burial site. John de Leycestre was bishop of Dunkeld Cathedral in the early 1200s. Inchcolm was in the diocese of Dunkeld; both institutions were dedicated to St. Columba and had close ties.
The bishops of Dunkeld were not the only wealthy patrons of Inchcolm; the Mortimers, who were lords of nearby Aberdour, were generous benefactors. The water between the island and the mainland is known as 'Mortimer's Deep'.
In May 1235, permission was sought from the pope, and granted, for the priory to become an abbey. Prior Henry became the first abbot, and Inchcolm's wealth and status increased. In 1265 the chancel was doubled in size. But the good times were not to last.
In the 1300s, the abbey was repeatedly attacked by English forces, during the years of the wars of Scottish independence. The first recorded attack was in 1315, when a naval force was beaten back by the bishop (Sinclair of Dunkeld) and his men. In a further attack of 1335, the monastery was plundered.
Walter Bower was the abbot of Inchcolm from 1418-1449, but is perhaps better known as the compiler of the Scotichronicon, a history of Scotland from the reign of Malcolm III (Canmore) to the beginning of the reign of James II (1437-60). Walter recorded that the invaders, frightened by a sudden storm at sea, sent the plunder back. But fear of storms evidently did not deter the raiders.
In 1385, a barge carrying 140 English soldiers plundered the monastery and set fire to an outhouse. Fortunately the wind changed and the church was saved. The story goes that the flames were blown back towards the English, who retreated to South Queensferry.
It was but a temporary respite, for the abbey fell victim to the Reformation. In August 1560, the Reformation Parliament ended Catholic worship at the monastery. The last document to bear signatures of the canons of Inchcolm is dated 1578, and is signed by 'Dominus John Brounhill' and 'Dominus Andro Anguss.'
This was not the end of the island's history however, nor of its role in repelling invaders. In the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries the island was a quarantine station for any plague-stricken ships entering the Forth. In the Napoleonic era it was used as a hospital for the Russian fleet, and a gun battery was built in response to the threat of a French invasion.
When WWII broke out, the island was equipped with guns with searchlights, and a large camp was built for the garrison. The guns were manned around the clock, until the threat of invasion passed. Some of the twentieth century buildings remain, sitting a little incongruously beside the ruins of the abbey.
Nowadays, the only inhabitants of the island are the seabirds, and it is advisable, especially during nesting time, to walk through the WWII tunnel (pictured below) than around the coastal path, because the birds are very protective of their young and will attack.
Well, I say that the birds are the only inhabitants, but, on a neighbouring island, Inch Gnome, there are a few residents...
Inchcolm island has an area of only 9 hectares. And yet, two hours was barely long enough to explore, and soak up the atmosphere of this tiny place. It can be seen, as I've said, from many points of the coast around the Firth of Forth, and yet, out there, one feels miles away from the modern world. The history spans the centuries and yet is encapsulated in a small area. As you step off the boat, it seems as if you can already see all there is to see. But two hours later, you will leave feeling that the island has revealed only a fraction of its centuries-old story.
[all photographs by and copyright of the author]
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Annie Whitehead is an author and historian, and a member of the Royal Historical Society. Her first two novels are set in tenth-century Mercia, chronicling the lives of Æthelflæd, Lady of the Mercians, who ruled a country in all but name, and Earl Alvar who served King Edgar and his son Æthelred the Unready who were both embroiled in murderous scandals. Her third novel, also set in Mercia, tells the story of seventh-century King Penda and his feud with the Northumbrian kings. She is currently working on a history of Mercia for Amberley Publishing, to be released in 2018.
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Hat Tip To: English Historical Fiction Authors
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