50ccPilgrim.uk

We're visiting my wife's godparents in Southampton just now, and I had the chance to call in briefly at Romsey Abbey - a visit I can thoroughly recommend if you're in the vicinity. I was warmly welcomed by Brenda who did a splendid job of pointing me in the direction of various treasures the Abbey has to offer, although I'd only intended to pray for a while.  After sitting for a spell in a side chapel praying the Jesus Prayer, I wandered around the east end of the Abbey where a series of small chapels flank the high altar. And tucked away on one wall I came across a remarkable wooden panel (see the photo) with this text on a sign below it:  The Kneeling Priest. A late 15th century painting of a kneeling priest - possibly ordained in this Abbey - praying the Jesus Prayer.   And indeed, the ribbon drifting out of the priest's mouth reads: Iesu fili dei, miserere mei : Jesus, son of God, have mercy on me.  The Prayer, which has been extremely widespread in ...

This is what prayer looks like, kinda. I was sat in Chapel last night looking at my tattered prayer book. I bought it new when I arrived at Launde, as I'd transferred from Wales to the Church of England and they use a different service here. But this is how it looks now.  We have three Chapel services every day from Monday to Saturday, and one every Sunday morning; the clergy attend them all, taking turns to lead. That's 19 services a week, more than 80 a month or around 1,000 a year. I've been here for more than a decade now, so that comes to over 10,000 gatherings for prayer in that time (about 3,500 communion services and 6,500 services of Morning, Midday or Evening Prayer). I'm not at all of them, of course, but my work pattern means I've probably taken part in something like 8,000 of those, amounting to about 5,000 hours of prayer.  That's why the book looks like it does: like a pair of comfortable slippers which you've hung on to for years....

You know those optical illusions which on first look seen to be a vase or an old woman, but then your perception shifts and you see two faces or a rabbit? You remember how the first impression seems so obviously right until that moment of shift, and then suddenly it's hard to unsee the second image and get back to the first?  I had one of those moments yesterday in our morning Eucharist at Launde. We have a row of icons along the east wall featuring eight saints, some well known and others very obscure (any big St Guthlac or St Keyne fans reading this?) Until yesterday I'd always seen them as intriguing devotional representations of holy men and women: images to inspire faith. Something for us all to look at. Windows into heaven, if you like. But yesterday that flipped, although I'm not sure why. I suddenly saw them as a row of holy saints looking out  onto us, as though I was the one being seen, not the one doing the looking. I saw them as the cloud of witnesse...

Sometimes the longing for home is irresistible and you begin to wonder: well, why resist? Derby Cathedral's service had been so wonderful it seemed like it might be a beautiful ending to this second pilgrimage. So I got on my bike and rode. Around 8.30pm I rang the doorbell and a rather surprised Sally opened the door. During two pilgrimages, which took about a month and a half, I've covered around 3,500 km on two 50cc mopeds. I've travelled through five countries, crossed the Alps, lived in monastic communities, joined worship in dozens of churches and cathedrals and prayed alone in countless others. I've met people across Europe and made friends across language and culture barriers. I've slept rough in fields, woods, verges, once in a hammock, and twice in bike parks. I've prayed the Jesus Prayer until it's lodged in my heart like the devotional equivalent of an ear worm. I've travelled through a 42°C heatwave in central Italy and shivered ...

After Accrington I started to get homesick. It had been a wet night and I was cold and tired. Blackburn cathedral's morning service had been disappointing. Then followed a long ride through Manchester. Ever seen Life on Mars ? If not, you've got a treat ahead. But my GPS took me through every depressing 1970s style corner of the city, past every boarded up and vandalised factory, through every characterful alleyway, into every run-down neighbourhood. It was hard going. And all the churches were locked.  I emerged to the south, rose up into beautiful green hills, and soon found myself in the glorious Peak District. And one day I'm going to go back and explore it properly. But as I rode through some of the most magnificent countryside England has to offer, I realised that after nearly six weeks on the road (between the two pilgrimages) I'd done enough. I was ready to be home.  I pushed on to Derby and arrived in time for evening prayer, so I decided to stop. A...

This is the Jesus Chapel in Blackburn Cathedral. I arrived here after an early start camping in the woods just outside the city. I'd been rained on the night before, slept in damp air surrounded by cold mists, and packed everything up in drizzle the next morning. After a few weeks on the road I've learned to cope with these kinds of discouraging nights, but they still sap morale a bit. I was hoping for a little something to help kickstart the day.  And Blackburn could well have been it. The cathedral was superb. It's very modern - for a cathedral - and it looks it. And sometimes that doesn't work well; certain modern building and art styles have not worn well alongside the greatest traditions of the past (yes, brutalism, I'm looking at you and the revolting glass and concrete apocalypse you've visited on most British cities). But Blackburn shows how magnificent modern design and art can be when done right. The cathedral's main body and the Jesus ...

This beautiful carving of the Madonna and Child was tucked away at the back of St Andrew's, Greystoke. It was carved from a holly log by a German wood carver held at the nearby castle at the end of the Second World War. All he had available for carving was a small pocket knife and a tiny chisel. It's a beautiful and moving piece of art. It was only one of many delights in this church (which, as usual, I happened on by pure good fortune). There's a magnificent sculpture of Christ, a terrific east window, some medieval carved tombs, and plenty more for the avid church-bagger. Oh, and of course, it's a very congenial place to pray!  But beyond all this lay something absolutely wonderful that had nothing to do with the bricks and mortar. St Andrew's is a church that has absolutely nailed hospitality, and I found out why.  First, an idea of how the place has been opened up to strangers like me. At the church gate was a sign giving times of the services, but a...

Carlisle Cathedral is ... not big. I don't mean any disrespect; Leicester Cathedral (in my own diocese) is pretty compact by cathedral standards too, and I'm very fond of it. Likewise, here at Carlisle the small footprint contains much to love.  The choir takes up most of the cathedral's interior, so had been imaginatively arranged to include the entire congregation within it, being held by the choir stalls in a kind of woody embrace. They've also turned the area around the font (which would be a entire huge nave in many cathedrals) into a very beautiful chapel / prayer space.  The altar is magnificent - see the photo. Now that kind of lavishness (or gaudiness) may not be to your taste, although I rather liked it. But it reminded me of something my Old Testament tutor, Philip Jensen, talked about during my training days. He said that in all architecture we have a tendency to put the things we most value in the centre and at an elevated height. The Holy of Ho...

Well, I'm growing to love serendipity and surprises on this pilgrimage. I've spent the last couple of hours riding a back road through the most gorgeous borders countryside, along winding lanes that follow the lines of the valleys and burns, while the sun shone brightly overhead. And then, out of nowhere, appeared the most unexpected place. I'm having a cuppa at a huge Tibetan Buddhist monastery.  When I say huge, I do mean it. Kagyu Samye Ling has, I've been told by one of the monastics, 30 to 40 residential members in the community at any given time, and the capacity to welcome around 150 more retreatants. Visitors walk the peace gardens surrounding the monastery and temple, and there is a tea room and shop. As I write there are dozens of other visitors here. The community supports its life in the ways, as far as I can determine: donations, the tea room/shop, and money people pay to come on retreat. But - and this is fascinating - they only charge for gene...

Ever the optimist, when I saw a sign on the main road into Peebles pointing right and suggesting the possibility of 'RC Church 1/4m' I decided to take a chance. I'm glad I did.  First, let me say this, and it's wonderful to say, the door was open.  After finding so many locked Scottish churches, St Joseph's was not just unlocked, but the door was open and inviting. Inside, the church is simple but very well cared for; there was a light on at the back, a little shop offering Catholic devotional cards and items for sale, and a donations box (in which I happily made an offering!) To my delight there was a teeny, tiny chapel on the north side with a prayer desk in front of it and a votive candle stand beside. If the number of candles is any guide, I was roughly the seventh person so far today to stop and offer some prayer. And it was so quiet, so still, such a prayerful little church. I had such joy of it. Honestly, I could have spent the rest of the day her...

Rosslyn Chapel, just south of Edinburgh. A late medieval chapel made famous by Dan Brown's ridiculous Da Vinci Code , it's also a place that was repeatedly and highly recommended to me by my daughter and son in law. So I called in today to discover they were absolutely right: Rosslyn is a must.  Construction started on this incredible structure in the 1440s, and as far as I could tell by looking around the owner of the Roslin estate, William St Clair, employed half the master stonemasons in Europe and told them to do as they pleased. The sculptured interior is amazing, edifying (he'd set out to create "a Bible in stone"), inspiring and, yes, beautiful.  After a magnificent storytelling introduction by our guide, Helen, we visitors were given free rein to wander as we pleased. It was captivating, and more than an hour flew by without my even noticing - despite this being really rather small by church standards. It had originally been envisaged as a huge...

After St Andrew's I made my way over the silvery Tay to Dundee. This wasn't really part of the pilgrimage - I was taking a few days break to spend with my daughter, her husband, and our delightful two year old grandson. We went to toddler clubs, ten pin bowling, a farm, and some shops. We played with toy trains, read books about hedgehogs, and had tea and cake. It was blissful.  And now I'm back on the road heading for Perth and then down towards Dunfermline. And what a road! This was the view from up in the hills looking down at the Tay not far out of Perth. I stopped and looked down this valley while I prayed Morning Prayer. It's hard to find a church with this kind of breathtaking visual appeal!  I love churches (as this blog has probably made quite obvious) but there is something truly wonderful about praying in the beautiful natural places too, the great temple of nature. I felt my soul opening up and breathing the cool air.  ///series.launched.canine...

There are some fascinating places to visit between southern Edinburgh and St Andrew's. But when I woke early this morning it was raining again, and I decided I'd prefer to make good time today on my trip and visit some of those places on the way back. It was a good decision, and the longer ride north was surprisingly enjoyable.  And now I'm here, in St Andrew's, at the site of the medieval cathedral as I write (sitting, in fact, in one of the monk's stalls in the Chapter House). The outward leg of this second pilgrimage is complete.  I found the arrival very moving. I parked La Fenice in the middle of town and walked the last half mile. When I arrived at the ruins I went around to the west door and walked slowly along the length of the cathedral, trying to imagine it at its medieval height. I pictured the colours, the stonework, the glass that might have been visible. I thought of the living, prayerful community who'd worshipped here for centuries. I...

Lindisfarne: the holy island. What a delight it was to be able to visit at last. I slept overnight in some woods nearby, wild camping again, and arrived very early at the causeway so I'd have a mobile signal to post here and send some messages. If you're following this blog in real time and wondering why the posts are always a day or two behind, it's mostly because the wi-fi facilities in wild camping sites leave a lot to be desired ... It was fun watching people following the retreating tide along the causeway and tentatively trying their luck to get across as soon as possible. I didn't take any chances on La Fenice , but I did cross as soon as the whole road was visible and had the fun of riding with the sea right up against the road on either side; with my pilgrim staff strapped to my back I felt like Moses on a Vespa. I arrived just after the start of the morning service at St Mary's, so had the opportunity to be part of what turned out to be a terri...

A few people had suggested that I visit Bamburgh Castle while travelling up the northeast coast, so I headed over that way from Alnmouth - forgetting that it's a bank holiday weekend. The town and castle were heaving with people, despite the strong winds left over from Storm Lilian, and after a week of camping in the woods and praying in churches it was more noise and bustle than I could cope with. I looked down the road from the castle and pulled over to peruse the map, ready to pick the next stop. As I got off the bike I noticed a church opposite with a big 'Open' sign outside, the kind of invitation I try not to resist. Everyone  had told me about the castle, but no-one had thought to mention St Aidan's Church. As I quickly discovered, it's not called St Aidan's as a dedication but because he built the original church and ministered here. It's one of the key sites in the Northumbrian Christian story, and a wonderful place for a pilgrim to call...

From Durham I wound my way up past Newcastle (or rather, skirted around it to find a bridge over the Tyne that wasn't given over to a busy major road) and ended up in Bedlington, not far from Morpeth. It's not, to my knowledge, a pilgrimage site or place of historic Christian significance. But it is where my Dad and his wife Maureen live, which seemed an excellent reason to visit.  I spent a couple of nights with them, eating good food and swapping stories; it was great to catch up in person. During the day on Friday they offered the chance to make a trip over to Hexham and visit the Abbey. I knew nothing about the place except that the verger in Lincoln Cathedral had said it was a must-see, but that was recommendation enough.  Well, honestly, here's my take. If you're in the northeast and have to choose between Durham and Hexham, choose Hexham.  I can't begin to tell you all the wonderful things in the Abbey: the 80 odd medieval painted panels, the mise...

Heading out from Darlington I had a lovely (if somewhat damp) ride around meandering country lanes to Durham. The change in countryside was remarkable: Lincolnshire riding was long, straight roads over an utterly flat landscape (I suspected that Lincoln Cathedral was built on a hill following the astonishment of the residents in finding they had a hill), but Yorkshire and most places north are one hill after another. And, therefore, some great views.  Durham Cathedral was good. It had been hyped up to me as a kind of life-changing Nirvana which would blow my socks off, and I have to be honest: it wasn't. I arrived in time for a beautiful communion service led by Caroline, a local vicar, so that was a treat. Afterwards I wandered in a bustling crowd of visitors around the various sights on offer. It was all very interesting but seemed to have the vibe of a National Trust property, a bit of fascinating history with nice artworks. The service had been in a side chapel, tu...

Sometimes a church's open door just looks too good to resist. I rode through Thirsk, pretty but crowded, with the theme tune for the late 70s TV show All Creatures Great and Small running through my brain; James Herriot's real life veterinary practice was based here. And then I passed St Mary's and saw the open door, saw someone walking in, saw the big sign in the churchyard that said 'Welcome!' So I pulled over.  It's a lovely church, very open and light inside, and a couple of volunteers welcomed me as I came in. "You're fine to look around," one of them said, "but it might be a bit noisy because of the baby club." She gestured towards the front of the nave where a group of young mums were gathered around their prams. I sat in a back pew; I wasn't too bothered about nosing around, but just fancied a little time to pray. It was very noisy: mums chatting, toddlers zooming around and yelling, one very young newborn making h...

On the way to Ampleforth I passed through Byland, a tiny settlement with, as far as I could tell, a pub and a couple of farms. And some very impressive looking ruins. It all looked intriguing, so I made a mental note to circle back after the service in the monastery.  Well, what a revelation. Byland Abbey, a place I'd never heard of, turned out to be one of the biggest and most significant Cistercian abbeys in medieval England. At its heyday it was home to around 240 monks and lay brothers, and even though it's been a ruin since the Reformation, the remains are extensive and very evocative ... oh, and thanks to English Heritage, really well maintained and completely free to visit.  I did what I love to do around these shells of the medieval world: wandered around trying to enter into the life experience of those who'd been there at it's height. Thinking of the hardships, yes; the disease and discomforts, the cold and hunger, the troubles of incessant warfare...

This is the beautiful Ampleforth Abbey in Yorkshire, a contemporary Benedictine monastery which I realised was only a few miles from where I slept last night. That made for an easy first decision about which direction to head.  I arrived in time for the 9am Mass, sung in plainchant and we were encouraged  to join in, no matter how falteringly. Participation, not performance, was the order of the day. I stayed in the silence for some time at the end, just praying the Jesus Prayer and enjoying God's presence. And afterwards the tea room had just opened so I treated myself to a cuppa, which I've just finished. The sun is shining. What a great start to the day. ///folds.chuckling.hairspray