The heritage journey

It feels kind of strange writing this after being back in Australia and well and truly back into my ‘normal’ life for two weeks. But I am grateful to be journeying back to experience and write about the stone circles and the amazing trees I met during my tour.

We walked four stone circles and met many beautiful trees.

Stone circles – who made them and for what purpose?

It’s impossible to visit these places without these questions arising. No one seems to have the definitive, without contest, answer. Created and used by ancient tribes? Aliens? Magicians? Were they used for ceremony? Astronomy charts? The answer to the wall calendar? A burial site? Or was it just an early version of landscape gardening by Bronze age Jamie Durie’s?

Stone circles can date back to Neolithic times. I don’t know about anyone else but my head can’t quite comprehend all that. To be honest I didn’t really pay too much attention to theories, though I do love a good story. Instead I just experienced each stone circle in the moment and discovered that all of them had a different effect on me.

Boscowen-un

Boscowen-un, which means ‘house of the elder tree’, was our first stone circle for the tour. On our walk in from the road our only encounter was with a man with iPod and mini back pack who was power walking the area with great enthusiasm and seriousness. We were to see him a few times during out time at the circle.

We got to the rickety gate that was already swung open as if inviting us to enter. Jamie asked us to all hold hands so that we created a line with him at the head. He guided us through the gate and silently we walked the circle, weaving in and out of the stones. The circle complete we walked into the middle to the centre stone which was pointed and leaning back towards where we had first entered.

I love a ritual, and so of course I loved the idea of us weaving our energy into the circle. I find it helps me to focus, to really be in the moment when I enter a place like we had just done. I had expected to feel the need to sit with a stone for a while. Evgenia was already blissed out sitting on the centre stone and Rosemary was well and truly tuned into the one complete quartz in the circle 19 stones. I tried my best to sit still, to feel that tranquillity I had felt so often at the holy wells. I tried…

I got up from the ground and started to walk around the circle again, touching each stone as I wove in and out. No wonder I didn’t want to sit still, I was finding it difficult to keep my feet on the ground. I wondered how many people had danced around this circle of stone…because that is what I wanted to do. So I moved around the circle with grace (so I tell myself) as I hummed a little tune to each stone.

Not what I had expected for my first stone circle in England – but then I was quickly learning that expectations are simply self-imposed limitations. So I learned to throw all expectations to the wind and let experience guide me instead.

The Merry Maidens

A Neolithic stone circle. I think that means about 9500 BC. Enough about dates (especially because I’m bound to get them wrong), let’s move onto good stories. I’ve said I love a good story and the Merry Maidens delivered. And the story goes (as written in the all reliable Wikipedia)…

‘The local myth about the creation of the stones suggests that nineteen maidens were turned into stone as punishment for dancing on a Sunday. (Dans Maen translates as Stone Dance.) The pipers, two megaliths some distance north-east of the circle, are said to be the petrified remains of the musicians who played for the dancers. A more detailed story explains why the Pipers are so far from the Maidens - apparently the two pipers heard the church clock in St Buryan strike midnight, realised they were breaking the sabbath, and started to run up the hill away from the maidens who carried on dancing without accompaniment. ‘

That is pretty much all you are going to read about this particular stone circle because I didn’t really spend much time in it. In fact, aside from walking through it from one side to the other to take a photo I spent very little attention on it at all. But the time we spent in the field where the Merry Maidens danced was one of the most amazing yet. It wasn’t the stones that had my attention, it was the fields of wheat like tall grass and how they danced with the wind. The play of light as the wind rushed over the field was captivating.

Coming from Australia there is NO WAY I walk through let alone sit in tall grass in summer. A snake’s haven sort of means it’s not a haven for me. But I was in England, not Australia. So as the others in the tour went to sit amongst the stone circle I allowed myself to be swallowed up by the grasses. I waded into the sea of grass that reached to my waist and then sunk down so I could see no one and nothing but sky and grass and a little blue dragonfly that hovered before me before disappearing again into the waving wheat.

Whoosh, whoosh. I was sitting in the sway, the dance, the waltz of nature and I was enraptured. Just thinking about it again I am again smiling. I honestly don’t know how long I sat there inside the field, inside the dance. It was again as though time was suspended.

When I finally did lift my head I realised that I was alone in the field. My group had disappeared…or had I?

Stonehenge

The sun was rising and had cast and impressive splash of copper gold across the sky. Evgenia and I stood out front of the Merlin B&B waiting for Jamie to arrive. I didn’t want to wait inside. I was too excited. We would reach Stonehenge within the hour.

It was smaller than I expected as it appeared over a hill – sort of looked like a miniature toy version. We had to wait in the parking lot for quite a while so that I was glad of the many layers I had decided to wear.

In a group of about 15 people we were to get ‘special’ entry into Stonehenge. We walked under the road and when we cam out the other side there it was – Stonehenge. The sun had been up a little while but the light was wonderful. How does one write about a place like Stonehenge?

First, the people. One couple came very prepared with a picnic rug. They laid it out in the middle of the circle and sat with their eyes closed. The other couple walked around the henge with a large camera, headphones and a microphone which they occasionally pointed at a stone. Jamie explained that there have been electromagnetic waves recorded and ‘strange’ noises – so I assume they hoped to find something similar. There was a young boy with his father and another couple who wandered around. Then of course there were the security guards who I found out later have a presence at the henge 24 hours, all year round.

You might assume by my description of the people present at the henge that I might be making fun of them…but I am not. Stonehenge is such a mystery and where there is mystery there is possibility. Minds open…at least many do. Seekers seek and imaginations run wild. But what of my experiences and thoughts?

I wasn’t overwhelmed but I was awed. To be standing within Stonehenge was completely surreal. I can well understand how it can conjure stories and theories. The stones are HUGE! How they could have created that place is completely beyond me. Theories of aliens and Merlin’s magick seem more plausible than the so-called ‘reasonable explanation’.

It felt different from other stone circles, I think because I felt like it was enclosed, like it is a chamber rather than an outdoor monument. I walked around the outside and through the middle. I closed my eyes trying to feel something but all I felt was the awe – awe for the structure and the beauty.

Avebury

Avebury was completely different experience to Stonehenge. At Stonehenge I had been awed, at Avebury I again felt that childlike excitement I would get at a faerie glen or holy well. The stones were all gnarly and filled with faces. I saw a lot of lion heads in the shapes of the stones.

The ground when exposed beyond the green grass was white – white chalk – which added more interest to the landscape. And the trees!

I had separated from my group to go investigate some trees that caught my attention. When I had finally emerged from the little grove I watched the rest of the group disappear under four magnificent beech trees in the distance. How magnificent I was yet to discover.

The trees are known as the Tolkien trees because it is said to be where JRR Tolkien came almost every day to write. It’s easy to understand how the trees and the area inspired such stories of middlearth.

After circling the trees trying to find an angle to capture their beauty in photography (I didn’t succeed) I found a lovely spot to sit – I was practically sitting IN the tree. I felt cradled in its roots and was able to rest back into the tree and breathe with it. Now THAT was my kind of experience.

After a while with the tree I followed the rest of the group to second of the three stone circles of Avebury. This is where the sheep entered the experience. The sheep were a comical addition to the day and so very grounding…what with all the deposits that covered the ground!

On our tour Jamie took us to some gorgeous faerie glens, sacred well and holy chapels.

What is a fearie glen?

You know it when you see it. Much of the Dandenongs at home is like a faerie glen paradise. Britain seems to be blessed with so many and Jamie lead us into some very special places. St Nectans brought out the child in me. Words are not going to do justice to such a place but of course I will try anyway.

Transcribed from my journal...
My eyes and heart were completely open to this place. As we descended into the glen, feather after feather appeared before me. I started to stick them into my hair (which was starting to look a little birds nesty anyway). I became increasingly excited as we walked deeper and deeper. I dropped back from the others and took my time stepping though the delicate and wild beauty of the glen. Every tree seemed to have a face looking out at me. I wove leaves into my hair as I wove my way along the path.

I thought the glen was to be our gift for the day but more was to come. After reaching a real saints hermitage we journeyed deeper still into the glen. What was waiting for us was nothing short of divine. A waterfall.

Clouties and other prayerful things
This might be a good time for me to mention the practice I have found throughout the UK of leaving prayers and blessings in sacred places. Ribbons or other pieces of material are tied to trees as a petition of sorts. Prayers for healing, or blessings. These are traditionally called clouties. Other items are left in sacred places such as stones piled on top of each other, photos anchored with pebbles, rolled up pieces of paper (presumably with prayers) tied to branches or slipped into crevices in rocky faced wall, tea light candles, coins, crystals...just about anything that people can leave. It's beautiful really. One might think it would appear like litter in these places but it gives that sense of walking into a place filled with wishes, prayers and compassion.

Sacred wells and springs

Places where water comes from within the earth have become places of the sacred. They at first would be used by those following the 'old religion' and then later, understanding the holiness of such places, Christians often built chapels near or around them. Including the waterfall mentioned above and the Chalice Well in an earlier blog we went to five sacred wells.

Celtic Holy Well Chapel of St Clether

The chapel was tucked away down a path through bracken, thistles, stinging nettles, windflowers and buzzing bees. A simple chapel – and in its simplicity there was stillness and a raw sort of romanticism. The way the light came in the window over the altar was hypnotising. In the chapel there were items from the surrounding forest and land for sale. I would have loved to have taken home a staff but I thought it might be a hassle getting it through customs.

From the chapel we walked down a path to where a stream flowed and Jamie alerted me to the dragonflies bejewelling the area.

Madron well and Celtic wishing tree and nearby baptistery ruins

There is a point where one can get tired of seeing castle after castle or cathedral after cathedral. I have not felt this about sacred wells. Perhaps because they are buried deep and born of nature. They are not history but living now.

Transcribed from my journal...
The walk along the well-worn path was like many others. I find myself almost on a meditative journey – preparing myself for the spring when we arrive. But it's not a solemn or still meditation – it is alive and vibrant. The trees are amazing. Like snakes twisting and twirling around each other. We arrive first at the well and the Celtic wishing tree. Hundreds of coloured ribbon and strips of material dangle from the tree branches that stretch over the water of the sacred spring. A brown and white border collie gallops into the small clearing and lowers his head to lap at the well. We all watch. It is a beautiful place.

We walk on from the spring to the nearby baptistery – the ruins of a little chapel. The baptismal stone basin sits in the corner of the ruins which is supplied by the same sacred spring and Jamie tells us that it is more often flowing with water, but today it is drip, drip, dripping. We all sit down within the baptistery walls and fall into silence. I tried to allow the stillness to cloak me but stillness would not come. This place for me was not about stillness. The drip, drip, dripping was like an ancient but vibrant beat and I imagined the local faeries dancing to its rhythm. I was so taken by the beat that I pulled out my iPhone and recorded some of it. I don't know what I'm going to do with it when I get home but I've since listened to it and I'm again transported back to that place and time.

I had walked into the trees as me and walked out as a pixie. Again, my hair getting wilder by the day, was decorated with ferns, flowers and feathers.

Sancreed sacred well and grove

I want to say this was one of my favourites but really each place made an impact on me.

Transcribed from my journal...
Excitement brews within me as we start in on the path. Typically it is beautiful, walking through a wonderland of trees, ferns and flowers. The path twists and turns seeming to take me in a dance. I am already grateful in anticipation of the treasures we will find. My eyes and heart are so open – it seems permanently so. I recognise that it is this state of openness that allows me to experience these places as I do.

Jamie leads us around one more bend and we are here. I am struck by the beauty of it. A deep cave like well that one steps down into is before us. Reaching over this cave colourful ribbons hang from tree branches. As the group move towards the well I take the path to the right, I duck my head under a low hanging branch then straighten to discover I have walked into a grove of trees, I have walked into a sacred grove. With my hand pressed to my heart in awe I slowly acknowledge each tree – unique and exquisite. Each seem to have their own personality. They all grow in different ways and two of them seem to invite me to climb them, to sit within their branches for a while.

The others soon join me and we are all smiling and laughing at our fortune at having discovered such a place. Angela finds the swing hanging from one tree and is soon twisting and turning on the end of the rope. Christa can't help herself and accepts the invitation to climb one of the trees – the one that reminds me of a reclining woman. I have my photo taken in one of the trees so much wanting to have a record of my being here. I feel like I'm sitting in the hand of the tree, being suspended just above the ground.

Like so many other places we have visited, time seems to hover for a while, like stepping out of time. On the one hand it doesn't seem like enough time but on the other it feels as though we have stepped into a faery ring and lived a day in only moments.

It is time to go but I haven't yet stepped down into the holy well. The others seem to vanish, swallowed by the bushes as they journey back on the path. I turn back to the ribbon dressed tree and carefully step down into the earth, into the well. In the darkness I hear the faint trickle of water but my eyes are not drawn by what bubbles up from the earth. I feel as though I've stepped down into a small chamber. There are nature made shelves where others have placed candles, ribbons, stones and other prayerful things. As my eyes adjust to the lack of light I am transfixed by a luminescent presence. Are my eyes playing tricks on me? Directly in front of me is a trail of glowing green that journeys between two rocks and further into the earth, a secret trail.

I stand there for some time hypnotised by the gentle green light. I don't know how long I have been in the well before I became aware that I need to go find the rest of my companions. I take a few photos in vain trying to capture the fluorescent green light then turn and step out of the earth and back on the path. I look back over my shoulder to take one last glance at the doorway to unsuspecting delight then weave and twine my way back along the path...back to human time.

The glowing green in the well is moss-green phosphoresce. I'm still yet to understand how this happens. The special quality of light often commented on in the Cornwall area is due to higher levels of ultra-violet background radiation...hmmm not a nice thought really. I've stopped reading about the background radiation in the Cornwall as it sort of strips the experience down to a concerning level. It's very pretty though!

Rocky Valley

Rocky Valley was a place we visited on our way out of Tintagel. It is yet another beautiful walk which takes you alongside river Trevillet to an old mill. But that isn't why we were there.

There carved into a rock face are two circular labyrinths suspected of being from the Bronze Age...at least the original ones. The mind still can't quite comprehend all this. Much like seeing the paintings at Uluru it is difficult to wrap my head around how old they actually are.

These labyrinths are the kind you 'walk' with your finger...at least, that is what I understood. So I crouched down and began tracing my finger through the labyrinth. It was a wonderful experience to trace that labyrinth and to imagine that someone thousands of years ago traced their finger just like I was doing was simply mind blowing. I wonder how many pilgrims have traced their finger over that labyrinth? How many people have sought answers, inner peace, transcendence and connection as I was?

What exactly is a labyrinth? I hear some of you ask.

There are many good books and websites that delve into what a labyrinth is (and isn't) but essentially it is a meditation tool. It has been used by many cultures and belief systems. It is not a maze that you need to figure out. There is a journey inwards and a journey outwards. A labyrinth can be seen as a metaphor for life, a tool for journeying into oneself to seek answers to then bring them back into the outer world.

We visited four labyrinths on our tour. Glastonbury church on the main street, Tintagel (out the back of Camelot Castle Hotel), Boswedden B&B at Cape Cornwall and the Rocky Valley. Actually you could say we visited five if you count the Tor which is believed to also be a labyrinth if one was to take the long way up. The path circles up the Tor and apparently it takes about 3 hours to walk up.

To find out more about labyrinths you can google it or here are a few websites...
http://www.wisegeek.com/what-is-a-labyrinth.htm
http://www.sunnybankglastonbury.co.uk/dowsing/index.html#labyrinths
http://www.sacredwalk.com/

Thus ends my record of Fearie Glens, Sacred Wells and Holy Chapels. I hope you have been able to experience even just a little of the wonder and delight I have had journeying into these places.

'Any image or representation of something. A slight, unreal, or vague semblance of something'

I was introduced to this word during my time in England. It is when you see faces or images in anything. For my part it was mostly in nature...and I saw them everywhere.

Following are some photos. I'm not going to write what I see but let you decide if you too see beyond what is and see what could be.

The Tor

Gog

Magog

Merlin's cave

Coastal walk Tintagel - dragons head

St Nectans Faerie Glen

St Nectans Faerie Glen

St Nectans Faerie Glen

St Nectans Faerie Glen

Merlin's Cave

Merlin's Cave

St Clether - Bodmin Moor

Chalice Well

Tolkien trees

Avebury Stone Circle

Avebury Stone Circle

Avebury Stone Circle

The tour I was on was called Avalon to Camelot so there was obviously a lot of sites we visited relating to the myth and known history of the legend of King Arthur.

For this blog I'll focus on those sites most specifically relating to Arthur. I will mostly be sharing through photos rather than text but will add some links if you wish to read more about each place.

Glastonbury Abby

It is within the grounds of what remains of Glastonbury Abby that they excavated to find the remains (believed) of King Arthur himself. It isn't marked (for fear of having people dig up the ground for souvenirs) but the wife of one of those that was there for the excavation showed us a grassy little spot – inconspicuous but remarkable in what it offers the imagination and history.

The Glastonbury Abby - kitchens

Cadbury Castle

No, not a castle made of Cadbury chocolate but one supposed location of Camelot. It is a hill-fort and when standing up there is isn't hard to believe it would be a perfect place for a castle. A place where you can see for miles in all directions. We were about 12 miles from Glastonbury but we could make out the Tor in the distance.

I loved Cadbury Castle. Always up for a walk, the journey through the forest to the top of the hill was energising. Out on the grassy hill-fort I toyed, with much enjoyment, the idea that I was standing where Guinevere might have stood looking out from their safe haven contrasted with her inner turmoil over her feelings for Lancelot and her commitment to her husband and King. My imagination was not bereft of fodder to create and ponder.

Myth and legend aside, the area was breathtaking. The grazing cattle was a lovely touch as were one of my favourite trees – the Scottish Pine.

Website information: http://www.britannia.com/history/arthur/cadcast.html

Tintagel Castle

(which we learned from Jamie was pronounced Tin-tagel not Tint-and-gel)

Tintagel is a very...interesting place and one that has been said is Arthur's birth place. Before I write about Tintagel as a town I'll write about the castle. We walked down a steep road (that one couldn't ignore we would have to climb up later!) from the town. What goes down must go up especially when we are talking about the site of a castle. So we crossed a footbridge and climbed up many stairs to then enter the grounds of the castle.

There are many theories and stories some based in fact but mostly based in speculation. That said, I'm not one to disregard something simply because there is no HARD evidence to affirm it.

Tintagle extreme sports

Website information: http://www.britannia.com/history/arthur/tintcast.html

Merlin's Cave

The famous Merlin's Cave can only be visited during low tide. It tunnels under the hill where Tintagel Castle is situated. A quick word about Tintagel for me. What I loved about that place was the rock and sky and water and how they all came together. In short, I loved how nature supported the stories that have grown...in fact it is as though the stories have grown out of the landscape itself. Merlin's cave is one such place. What a fabulous idea that we entered the realm of Merlin himself. A magician? A wise one? A strategist? A champion? Simply a man? Simply a myth? Does it really matter?

The mouth of the cave can be seen from the view point and seems to open under a rock face that looks like the image of a dragon...or so it seems to my eyes.

Inside the cave it is dark and the rock is truly otherwordly. I tried by best to walk all the way through but the water was too high so unless I wanted to be baptised in the water or visit the tiny fish that were zipping around the pools of freezing cold water … I was going to see it from a distance. We stayed in the cave for quite some time. The air was cool and damp and the sound of my feet crunching through the pebbles and sand echoed off the walls of the large cave. It would be easy to lose track of time in there and get caught with the rising tide. I wish I understood my camera better to have been able to take better photos but I got a few.

Website information: http://www.showcaves.com/english/gb/caves/Merlins.html

On the other side of the small cove was a deliciously green waterfall that trickled into the sea. I must have taken over a hundred photos of it but I'll only post a selection.

King Arthur's Great Halls

Okay, you know how I said that Tintagel was...interesting. Well it's filled with interesting people and many have had money. With some spare time Evgenia, Christa and I decided to visit the tourist attraction of King Arthur's Great Halls. This place was created by a millionaire in the 1930's. The 'spectacular laser light show' is fun but not what I would classify as spectacular. I did however get to sit on the throne to watch it. Narrated by Merlin we heard one of the versions of the King Arthur legend as different paintings or items (such as Excalibur in a stone) were lit up at appropriate moments. Once the story was told we were to enter the larger of the two great halls.

The stain glass was rather wonderful and I enjoyed getting the giggles as I took photos. My favourite though was when we had completed the self guided tour and were allowed back into the first hall to take photos. The woman at the desk even lent me a sword!

Website information: http://www.cornwall-online.co.uk/attractions/kingarthurshall/Welcome.html

Staying at Camelot

Our stay in Tintagel was at Camelot Castle. I'm not sure how to describe this eccentric mix of 1940s and Arthurian tangle so instead I'll talk about the area around it.

Website information: http://www.camelotcastle.com/

I spent a wonderful couple of hours walking the coastal walk on our last morning in Tintagel. The wildness of the landscape was more effective than a cup of coffee in getting my heart rate going. After a brisk walk I soon found myself in a place on the edge of a cliff but tucked behind another to be protected mostly from the force of the chilly wind. Here I took out my journal intending to write. But I didn't for long. I didn't want to write it all down, I wanted to experience it. I looked to my right and found that I was sitting by a dragons head! A head looking directly towards Merlin's cave. Ah, how the imagination comes alive here – how the eyes see more.

Coastal walk Tintagel - Merlin's cave

Remembering places I've never been

I have wanted to visit Glastonbury since I first heard the story/legends of Arthur and the Isle of Avalon. Having now journeyed here I am not at all surprised that it is often called the myth making place. The air itself is fertile. Fertile for imaginings.

It is a very odd feeling to walk around a place you have never been and to feel you are remembering it. Glastonbury for me is one of those places I instantly felt at home...at the very least a connection. Often I need to sort of sit in a place for a day or two to sense I have absorbed it a little, this time I sort of just dropped in.

Our hotel – The George and Pilgrams

A historic hotel with many stories all its own. A rickety spiral staircase to get to our second floor room, murals that capture the faery-like and romantic quality of the town and a location to puts us at the centre of it all.

The tour – people

I'm travelling with five people and a tour guide. We are all different but have a common thread of desire to explore these lands, the energies and myths. Three American women, a wise one from Ohio, a maiden student of myth and metaphor from Santa Barbara, and an elven adventurer from another land of myth and storymaking...Malibu. The remaining two are two Australian explorers, my dear friend who has been journeying through Greece, her own motherland connection and then of course, yours truly who has been like a wild dragonfae remembering places I have never been and exploring wonders that have spoken directly to my heart.

Our learned leader Jamie of the Gothic Image shop in Glastonbury. Having been doing these tours for over twenty years he managed to lead us into these places without painting the picture of how we would see or experience it. Though we experienced each place as a group I felt we also got to experience it in our own space.

www.gothicimagetours.co.uk

Glastonbury – a place for finding what connects rather than what disconnects

Glastonbury is a place like none other in that the community appears to be not just tolerant but embracing of the different faiths, beliefs and customs that thrive there. It is a place of pilgrimage for varied spiritual paths. The church in the centre of town is a perfect example of this integration. Within its grounds is labyrinth that has been created by the town that respects the Christian God, Roman deities, Celtic deities and others who have made Glastonbury the place it is today. I found this integration to be a model of how I feel it should be. Finding the things that bond us rather than separate us. Respecting each individuals path to the sacred.