Skip to main content

St Winefride and her well

I promised that I would tell you how I got on to this pilgrimage business in the first place. The hook was a chance encounter with a seventh-century saint named Winefride; the hook turned out to be connected to a line, which was a pilgrimage route from Shrewsbury to Holywell; and once I pulled on that line, it just kept unspooling into a whole fishing net's worth of new discoveries.

Icon of St Winefride in Shrewsbury Abbey

St Winefride was the unlikely subject of a Bible study at my homegroup. Niece of the Welsh saint Beuno, she was determined to be a nun. However, a man named Caradog was equally determined that she should become his wife. When she refused, he cut off her head with his sword. Fortunately St Beuno had heard Winefride's cries, and, arriving at the scene, placed her head back onto her body, and restored her to life. Caradog met an untimely end, Winefride was able to pursue her calling into a nunnery, and at the place where her head fell, there arose a spring of water which became known as St Winefride's Well.

Evangelical Christians, while being sure that all the resurrections in the Bible definitely happened, tend to be sceptical about the resurrection of seventh-century saints. I realise this is not entirely logical. St Winefride's story was not received with any great enthusiasm by my homegroup, but something about it stuck with me. The spring associated with her still exists, in Holywell, North Wales, and has been a shrine continuously since the Middle Ages. At some point in the 12th century, Winefride's remains were moved to Shrewsbury Abbey. And so there was formed a 70-mile pilgrimage route between the two places.

But once you've got from Shrewsbury to Holywell, why stop there? You can join the North Wales Pilgrim's Way and walk all the way to Bardsey Island, reputedly the burial place of 20 000 saints, although I haven't figured out who they all were yet. Or you can turn east and get to Chester, then follow the Two Saints Way from the shrine of St Werburgh in Chester Cathedral, 92 miles to Lichfield Cathedral, dedicated to St Chad (I wrote a poem about him, once).


Lichfield Cathedral

Suddenly the map of Britain changes. Saints pop up like jack-in-the-boxes: Cuthbert, Frideswide, Aiden, Catherine, Kentigern. Pilgrim routes criss-cross the countryside, leading to Canterbury, Walsingham, Lindisfarne. Around every corner, it seems, is a healing well, a stone circle, an ancient yew tree, a ruined abbey. The land speaks of long ages of faith.

I knew, of course, that pilgrimage was a big thing in the Middle Ages. I can't claim to have read much of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, but I've at least heard of it. What I didn't know is how popular it has become again today. Britain doesn't seem to have quite caught up with some of the European routes, which have extensive signposting and low-cost hostels along the way. But some churches on pilgrim ways now offer "Night Sanctuary", allowing you to stay overnight, and there are no end of guidebooks and tour companies on offer.

At some point, I suppose, I will have to stop writing about pilgrimage and start walking! The Peak Pilgrimage from Ilam to Eyam is tempting as a first attempt. At 35 miles, it sounds relatively manageable in a long weekend, and has youth hostels at regular intervals along the path. Plus the start point is only a half-hour drive away. Shrewsbury to Holywell might have to wait a while, as that is definitely a week's walking, and a little more complicated to arrange. Meanwhile, I am following along with Pete Greig on Lectio 365, as he journeys from Iona to Lindisfarne, and stretching my legs by continuing with the National Forest Way.


St Winefride, you've got a lot to answer for!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Dove Valley Walk: Going round the bend

Somewhere between Marchington and Uttoxeter, the wiggles of the River Dove stop wiggling west to east, and start wiggling north to south. If it went in straight lines, it would make a right-angled bend. As I'm following the river upstream, this was my last section walking west. After this it's north to the Peak District and Dovedale. here the Dove swings north The main walk of this section was all on the south side of the river. But I also did a separate, shorter walk, to explore the village of Doveridge, and the old Dove Bridge which is tantalisingly glimpsed from the A50. Walk 1: Marchington to Uttoxeter I liked Marchington even more as I arrived there for the second time. I parked opposite the village shop - noting the "ice cream" sign outside for later - and near the brick-built St Peter's Church, with a war memorial built in above the door.  A few streets took me to the other side of the village, where I found a path alongside a stream, then across some hay m

Dove Valley Walk: Meeting the Limestone Way

At Uttoxeter my route along the Dove Valley met some official long-distance trails. First the Staffordshire Way north to Rocester, then the Limestone Way continuing up towards Dovedale. Graham joined me on today's walk, which included the Staffordshire Way section and the first part of the Limestone Way. Unusually, it was a one-way hike; we got the bus back.   Uttoxeter to Ellastone Graham and I parked at Uttoxeter train station. It's very cheap for the day if you park after 10am, but I was worried about getting back in time for the school run, so we got there at 9:20 and paid the more expensive rate (still only £3).  We started off across flat fields towards the A50 and Dove Bridge. A group of young cattle gave us hard stares as we walked past. I posted a photo of a wonky gate on the Gate Appreciation Society with the caption "Parallelogate" and it quickly accumulated 200 likes - many more than this post will get!   Passing the old Dove Bridge again , we ploughed t

San Antonio

San Antonio is towards the south of Texas and feels very much more Mexican than American. The balmy evenings, the colourful Mexican market, the architecture of the buildings, and the number of people speaking Spanish around us all added to the impression. The city, in fact, grew out of a Spanish mission and presidio (fort), built in 1718 as part of Spain's attempt to colonize and secure what was then the northern frontier of the colony of Mexico. Texas was then a buffer zone between Mexico and the French-held Louisiana, and Spain was keen to cement her hold on the area by introducing settlers and converting the natives to Catholicism and loyalty to the Spanish government. The missions in general had no great effect, but the San Antonio area was the exception to the rule, growing into an important city with five missions strung out along the San Antonio river. The first of these, San Antonio de Valero, later became well-known as the Alamo, where 182 Texans died in 1836