A magical journey: Cornwall to Glastonbury

Wednesday May 20, 2009

In May, after launching A Magical Journey: Your Diary of Inspiration, Adventure and Transformation, I set off on my own magical journey, revisiting some of my favourite places and exploring new ones, on a sweet second honeymoon...

Thursday 14… The day we walked for five hours, fell in a bog and earned toes full of blood blisters… We set out for Cornwall earlyish, planning to see five or six stone circles on our way, but nothing went according to plan. We stopped at the cute village of Chagford, in the heart of Dartmoor in the county of Devon, for lunch, and got talking to the café owner, who pointed out the Grey Wethers stone circle on our Disneyland-style map, and told us how to get there and where to park. He didn’t tell us – despite knowing how far we still had to drive to get to Cornwall, and how many other sites we wanted to visit – just how long the trek was. On our cute little map it looked like it would be about 15 minutes each way, around the edge of the Teddy Bear’s picnic forest (pictured, centre), but alas, the forest turned into the stuff of nightmares, dark and scary looking, and extending off into the distance. It took us two hours to get there, during which we climbed several hills, fell in a bog and risked life and limb on a non-path route to the stones. Squelching our way back the other way took even longer. But it was amazing. The moor was wild and desolate and slightly alien, with wild ponies and deer racing by, little lambs, spooky trees, pretty flowers, strange unstable ground, and incredible wide open skies, threatening black clouds and craggy tors on the horizon. And there were two circles, which I danced happily around for a while, putting off the inevitable trek back around the never-ending lake… It started raining just as we got back to the car, which made us so grateful it hadn’t rained earlier. We finally made it to Penzance as darkness fell, and after a long hot shower fell sleepily, slightly achingly yet impressed by our adventurous spirit and dedication, into bed…

Friday 15… The day dawned cold and blustery, so we snuggled in our room with cups of tea for a while, reading, writing, chilling out, then set off for the nearby village of Marazion so we could visit St Michael’s Mount, a tiny island connected to the mainland at low tide by a causeway, and at high tide by a boat. It’s similar to Mont Saint Michel in France in many ways, with its castle and church, and submerged causeway and link to Archangel Michael, and is connected to it by the Apollo leyline which runs from Ireland to the Holy Land. So I was intrigued to see if this one felt like the French one… We had lunch as we waited for the tide to go out, so we could walk across the causeway. It was bitterly cold in the bay, but we pushed against the wind and made our way over, then climbed the super steep hill, past the holy well and through the gardens, up to the old castle, along the terraces and to the church. Standing on the battlements and looking up at the chapel on top was awesome. We battled our way back across the causeway, and went in search of the holy well and chapel of Madron, which was down an only slightly muddy path The well is renowned for its healing properties, and people tie pieces of rag (cloughties) and ribbons, scrunchies, feathers, crystals and necklaces to its (slightly spooky) tree to make a wish and appease the spirits of the well. A little further down the enchanted fairy path is the ruined well chapel, from the fourteenth century, although it was built on earlier foundations. Next we set off to Lanyon Quoit, which looks like a giant’s picnic table, or a lumbering prehistoric beast, but is actually a dolmen, an old burial chamber which was once covered by a mound of earth. And then we decided to search for the Nine Maidens stone circle, beginning at the Men An Tol stones (three cute Neolithic stones, one with a hole in the middle people climb through three times for fertility or health)… It’s a long story (and was a long walk), but we found it! Much to the surprise of the B&B owner...

Saturday 16… Another blustery, wild and woolly day dawned, but that wasn’t going to stop us. And it cleared up (temporarily) as we danced through the Merry Maidens stone circle and visited Tregiffian Burial Chamber, a Neolithic chambered tomb. Then we set out again, along more terrifying one-lane roads, searching for Sancreed holy well. And it was so cute! We climbed down some little stone steps into the earth, and stood in the moss-lined grotto, anointing ourselves with the cold, clear water. Someone had left a tealight candle and lighter, which illuminated the walls and the ferns. It was so beautiful. There was a wishing tree there too, and wildflowers and bees, and it certainly felt like a place of fairies. And then we headed to Lands End, the most south westerly point in England, home of the pub that bills itself as the first and last pub in England (great marketing!), and Nanjizal Bay, where the Michael and Mary leylines (also known as the Dragon Path) first come ashore, to run all the way across England. Of course it was quite a hike to get there along the cliffs, and I got soaked by the rain and burnt by the sun (there are four seasons in one day in Cornwall!), but it was beautiful and powerful, and fun too, like a smugglers cove, with freezing cold waves to jump in, and golden sand to play on, and a deep dark cave to venture into, and a little waterfall and heart shaped rocks.

Sunday 17… Leaving the pirate town of Penzance, we headed north, to Bodmin Moor, and continued shifting through dimensions, sometimes having the rain pouring down on us (so hard we had to pull off the road for a while), then the clouds clearing and the sun shining down, then the fog descending and the day blackening… We found King Doniert’s Stone, two pieces of a ninth century carved Celtic cross; then the holy well at St Cleer, which was pretty but not a patch on Sancreed; and, after a few wring turns, Trevethy Quoit, a well preserved chamber tomb or portal dolmen, and very cute. It amazes me that people just have an ancient monument in their backyard! Then it was off to the Hurlers stone circles, three in varying states of completion, on a very soggy bog. It was raining a little, but we set out for the nearby Cheesewring, an unusual geological formation that is dramatic, powerful and impressive, and which the Dragon Path runs through. With much squelching and shivering we made it, without falling into any bogs, and then headed for Dozmary Pool, the reputed home of the Lady of the Lake. By which time we certainly deserved a cream tea, which we had at Jamaica Inn, made famous in Daphne du Maurier’s book of the same name, before setting out for Tintagel, the mythical birthplace of King Arthur… We dropped our bags off at our room in the King Arthur’s Arms (the tiny town is full of places like Merlin's Gifts, Guinevere’s Lounge and Pendragon Pub etc), then walked down the cliff to the castle ruins. In The Mists of Avalon it's Arthur’s mum the Lady Igraine's home, built on a tiny island connected to the high, dramatic cliffs by a tiny bridge. Now it’s more fallen down that standing up, but beautiful nonetheless. Especially as the sun set into the ocean and the little calves in the field mooed at us and ravens soared overhead...

Monday 18… I was so glad we took some blue-sky shots last night, because today was another grey and blustery day on the Cornish coast. Which has its own charm… After a typical English brekkie we clamboured up and down the steep rocky headland of Tintagel Island, unable to enter Merlin’s Cave due to the wild ocean and high tide, climbing a million steep stone steps, visiting the ruins of the 12th century chapel. They’re pretty open about just how mythical Arthur’s presence here is, which is nice I found a copy of Thomas Malory’s Le Morte d'Arthur in King Arthur’s Bookshop (of course!), then we went to King Arthur’s Hall, which an eccentric old millionaire created in the 1930s with replica round table and throne and great hall, and paintings of his life. And then it was off across the moors to Glastonbury, and our gorgeous little cottage…

Tuesday 19… We made our pilgrimage up the Tor, walking up Dod Lane, which follows the east-west leyline that connects the Abbey and the north side of the Tor with Stonehenge, and past pretty, feminine Chalice Hill. It sprinkled a little as we climbed, and by the time we got to the top, a little wet, windblown and bedraggled, the sky was incredible, so huge and black and ominous, then blue for a second, then grey again. It felt strong and powerful and angry up there, and so beautiful. Later, as we climbed back down and re-entered the “real” world, the sky became soft and blue and summery, as though the storm was the other dimension, and blue skies were the “real” world. We made our way to Chalice Well Gardens, which are so very beautiful, and stayed for hours. I could sit there all day in this other world – by the sacred wellhead, or the vesica piscic pool, surrounded by colourful new summer flowers, or by the lion’s head fountain or the pilgrims pool. That night we watched Lord of the Rings, and marvelled at the Englishness of Hobbiton, which looked like the Stonehenge landscape with all its barrows, and Bree, which looked like a little village near Oxford – which makes sense being as Tolkien lived there…

Wednesday 20… We went to the nearby town of Wells to visit the impressive (yet slightly creepy in its obscene ornateness and wealth) cathedral, and have the most haphazard “toastie” sandwiches in the most surreal café we’ve ever seen (they scraped the black off our burnt toast, in plain sight, my melted cheese was on the outside of the bread, Juz’s ham concoction was not the work of a sane person, and they had the most vulgar clock ever. Three Little Piggies indeed!). then we went to the Wookey Hole, which I’ve been meaning to go to for years. It’s an amazing cave that you walk through, deep within the earth, with traditions of a witch who lived there, and a stalagmite shaped like her. It was beautiful and eerie, with chambers with lakes in them, and long corridors, and bats! In the afternoon we drove south to Burrowbridge Mump, the baby tor, which seems like a toy, and climbed its steep but smaller sides to the ruined church on top. It is also on the Dragon Path, and the two leylines intersect here before separating and coming back together at the Glastonbury Tor. After dinner we climbed the Tor and huddled together on the grassy top, watching the sun set and the sky flame, freezing but exhilarated. It was so peaceful and calm up there, whereas yesterday it was so wild and powerful and strong. Shifting moods, shifting realities…

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