The One Less Travelled

Finally made it to Glastonbury today – the Tor, not the dopey festival. I travelled through the ridiculously beautiful villages of Somerset. I’ve been wanting to visit the town after a lifetime fascination with the Once and Future King. If you haven’t read any of Stephen R. Lawhead’s books, you have a treat in store. Ynys Afallach and all the myths surrounding the Knights of the Round Table. What’s not to love? I was expecting the town to be the usual tourist trap and was quite surprised to be charmed by it. Yes, it does have more shops selling resin dragons than is strictly necessary, but I loved the whole hippie ethos of the place. I am rather fond of hippies; I admire their sturdy idealism in a deeply cynical world, and besides they smiled and said hello to me.

The next surprise was Glastonbury Abbey. Walking around the exhibits and relics left over from the final destruction of the Abbey during the time of that Arch-Vandal Henry VIII was quite a moving experience. The sanctity of the Abbey feels intact even though there are precious few ruins still standing. It was absolutely lovely and peaceful. The monks at Glastonbury claimed to have discovered the graves and bodies of Arthur and Guinevere but the relics went missing after the dissolution of the monasteries. I can’t tell you how much I love these mysteries 🙂 There are also some rather nice artworks exhibited in the tiny gallery attached to the museum. Check out Anabel Ludovici Gray and Alessandra Alexandroff.

Next stop was the Chalice Well which a friend had been raving about, telling me what a peaceful and healing place it is. I was a bit sceptical about this one. The Well is supposed to be the place where Joseph of Arimathea placed the Holy Grail containing drops of Jesus’ blood, with the water of the well turning red in reaction. The more prosaic explanation involves Iron Oxide turning the water red but where is the romance in that? The garden also contains the Holy Thorn Tree that is said to have sprung up where Joseph planted his staff. Terrific. Altogether now: And did those feet, in ancient time, Walk upon England’s mountains green…… Of course I tasted the water. It does have the ferric tang and smell associated with rust(rusty nails of the Holy Rood…) and of course, blood. I pretty much had the gardens to myself and there is very much a sense of peace there. I love a garden, I really do. I had a similar experience at the Garden Tomb in Jerusalem. Wonderful.

Last stop was Glastonbury Tor itself. Instead of going up the public footpath like a normal person, I managed to meander all over the place, climbing over stiles and keeping a beady eye out for bulls and stampeding cows. I finally found someone to ask directions from. He looked very distressed and told me that yes, I could indeed keep going uphill as I was, but that I really should join ‘the right path’ as soon as possible. That made me laugh – he was obviously one of life’s born conformists. The idea that I might take my own idiosyncratic path up the Tor freaked him out. The holiest hill in England, and he believed the only way to reach the top was by following the man-made path and none other. Did I join ‘the right path’? Do you even need to ask? Of course not. I steadfastly ignored it; instead I nearly killed myself clambering through the steep woodland clutching at trees and roots. My heart was beating like the clappers (note to self; you are NOT fit!) AND I ruined my shoes, but it was worth it. What a view! I could see three counties from the summit- Dorset, Wiltshire and Somerset. Totes Amaze. It was easy to see how it could be called Ynys Witrin, the Isle of Glass. With the Somerset Levels flooded and the Tor marooned in the resulting lake, the lower slopes must have looked like a sheet of glass in the sunlight. Did I find Excalibur or feel the awen  come over me? Nope, not a sausage. Not even a little tingle. I did clamber down with a huge smile on my face though. Glasto? Six stars, no question. I leave you with Robert Frost:

Road Not Taken

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