The road East

Częstochowa was supposed to be the first shrine. The spiritual home of Poland, held gently in the arms of Jasna Gora was always the first goal. The big reach from the shores of England. Of course, it wasn’t really the first shrine, we were starting from England’s Nazareth – Walsingham. The Anglican Shrine.

Our first shrine wasn’t Anglican though, it was Roman Catholic – the Catholic National Shrine & Basilica of Our Lady, Walsingham. We arrived at the end of a long ride from London and took the wrong turn, meaning we had to ride through a ‘deep ford’ (in reality it was only 1.5ft deep) and arrived in a very quiet carpark just in time for mass. It was 30c and we were baking in all our bike gear. We stripped the outer wear and went into mass.

Dan, ever the reformed protestant, wasn’t sure about the candles. Or the procession. Or the servers at the altar. But in fairness he took it all in, he stood when everyone else stood, he sat when others knelt and sat for the various parts of the eucharist. But I’ll let him talk about that experience in another post.

For me, it was the perfect start to the journey. The Mass. Eucharistic Prayer Two, simply done with reverence. A solid homily, short prayers, the faithful coming forward to be fed with the body (but not blood) of Christ. This was the pattern we would see through Europe and into the Balkans. The exact same mass, the same words in different languages, the same intentions, the same reverence, the same genuflections, bows, and displays of piety. The same devout women in mantillas, the same young men with tattoos kneeling and offering theirselves to something more powerful than them. The same slightly bemused tourists, who once saw a eucharist at their friend’s church when they got married, and have now somehow got stuck in the church whilst touring it and can’t escape!

We left mass and headed to the slipper chapel. The medieval chapel where pilgrims to the Abbey would remove their shoes so they could walk the last mile barefoot. We entered in silence, prayed with other pilgrims and left as quietly as we’d entered. Dan was quiet. Monosyllabic answers. This would become a pattern as we toured shrines and he was faced with the quiet dedication and faith of those who call Mary, Mother.

Being a Catholic Shrine it has a cheap eatery and a fabulous shop. A solid meal (no meat, it was Friday) was devoured and trinkets bought to remind us of this start. We got our gear together and headed to the *real* shrine… The Anglican Shrine of Our Lady of Walisingham where we would spend the night and offer our devotion in the Holy House.

The two shrines in Walsingham are very different. The Roman Catholic Shrine is clearly set up for tens of thousands of visitors a year. It has rows and rows of outdoor benches, a compact and effient Stations of the Cross, a cheap and easy cafe, a covered area for picnics, and holy water by the bucket.

The Anlican Shrine is set up for beauty, stilness, gin, comfortable accomidation, and the offer of the *thinnest* place in England. Meat was served in Nortons (but not to the pilgrims in the refectory). The cafe appeals to all passers by (mostly cyclitsts that day), and the shop stears well clear of cheap trinkets, opting instead of be the National Trust shop of choice for the dicerning pilgrim.

I felt very much at home. Lots of friendly faces as I recognised old friends, past pilgrims, fellow Priests leading thier parishes to Our Lady and the ever wonderful staff; who go out of their way to make you welcome and remove all physical distractions from your pilgrimage. You will be well fed. You will have a comfortable room. You will have no physical wants or needs that cannot be easuly catered to. You will have no excuse to not go and see Our Lady and allow her to point you squarly at her son.

It’s VERY marian. Dan was struggling. We were back to the single word answers. But the ‘excitment’ of the 5am start to catch the 9am ferry from Harwich meant we had practical things to discuss. Where would we go when we arrived? What did we need on the ferry?

The first question was easy. Kevelar was a shrine we had read about when we first started planning this journey – over 18 months ago. But somehwere along the line we’d decided to drop it as ‘not big enough for the detour’. Just as we were leaving for Walsingham Dan had an email to offer us a place to stop over the night we arrived in the Hook of Holland. A free nights accomidation was not to be ignored, so we got the map out and realised that Kevelar would be possible on the Sunday morning, meaning we’d get to go to the parish mass. It meant another early start (5am again), but it was worth it.

That’s really been the pattern of this journey so far. We have a rough outline of a route, we have a vauge idea of where we’re going, but each day we sit and plan the next. It’s kept it interesting and stopped us feeling like we’re just ticking places off.

The next post will talk about Leiden, about the Kevelar, and the push into Poland.