There is something quietly timeless about approaching Lindisfarne Castle on foot. The dry stone walls that criss-cross Holy Island have stood here for generations, marking out fields that still feel as remote and unhurried today as they must have centuries ago. That weathered wooden gate, feels like an invitation rather than a boundary.
The castle itself has watched over this tidal island since the sixteenth century, built on a dramatic plug of dolerite rock that makes it look as though it has simply grown from the ground beneath it. On a clear spring day like this, with the sky an almost impossible shade of blue and the grass still vivid green, there is a stillness to Holy Island that is hard to put into words.