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It
was always going to be an adventure - and
it lived up to anything we might have hoped or
expected. Rushing on to the platform at Exeter
St David’s at 12.07 for a 12.08 train,
yet managing all to get aboard thanks to its
delayed arrival, started us off on the right
foot. Despite deluging rain and poor visibility
spoiling our views of West Penwith, we were able
to be flexible, change plans and enjoy ourselves
at the Wireless & Telegraph Museum instead.
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Our
day on St Michael’s Mount, when fine weather
was essential, was balmy, warm and calm for the
two sea crossings in the ferry boats - like large
coracles, seating a dozen passengers. We felt
blessed. Equally the people we encountered were
living treasures, and we felt blessed again.
There were some
disappointments for David and I when
our pilgrims missed things we had hoped
to show them. Perhaps this was inevitable
from the beginning as we had, on this
occasion, taken them ‘HOME’.
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We
asked pilgrims to write about one memorable moment
for us. Here are some:
‘ I came as a stranger and found warmth and helpful friendliness.’
‘ Our faith was tested rushing through Exeter to catch the train, for a
marvelous journey. At times the train was so close to the coast it felt as if
it were traveling in the sea. Crossing Brunel’s bridge built in 1859 across
the River Tamar was impressive - some of us were so excited as we crossed that
we leapt out of our seats for a better view.’
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Meeting
people who continue the work of pilgrims who brought
Christianity to these shores was good. We felt
close to people who gave wonderful hospitality
and praised together in churches and chapels. Joining
in the Eucharist at St Petroc’s Church in
Padstow, hearing the combined congregations’ voices
belting out the hymns, was uplifting. The anecdotes,
stories and information from Fr Barry and the country
folk were fascinating. Ending our traveling Eucharist
in Truro Cathedral made a fitting end to a very
good day. Meeting an artist painting a group portrait
of the choir in the Cathedral crypt was intriguing.
Our Cathedral tour emphasising the religious significance
added to our understanding - we were not treated
as tourists but as pilgrims.’
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‘Gwennap
Pit was impressive. In this tiered grassy hollow
one could imagine John Wesley preaching here eighteen
times between 1762 and 1789. It was strangely moving
to stand in the drizzle at Gwennap Pit hearing
Fr David reading about Jacob’s Ladder from
the Bible… The custodian, a gentle man, stepped
aboard the coach to bless us. His message was pure,
genuine, straight from a Christian heart.’
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Gwennap
Pit |
‘Such different
architecture! The stained-glass window of St Mary
Star of the Sea in Penzance - stunning. The Norman
carvings, all done with an axe, at Morwenstow. The
fonts at Padstow and Bodmin, the windows at St Neots.’
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‘The
achievement of walking to St Enodoc’s Church
in the sand hills on the banks of the Camel estuary,
or climbing St Michael’s Mount on a glorious
October day to the chapel - a wonderful “house
near heaven” - the laughter on the way up,
and the other visitors joining in our service or
just walking through. Everything running so smoothly.
How brilliant the sun shone when we really needed
it.’
‘The driver, Jerry, who could get us out of almost any tight spot, with
the assistance of David directing traffic with a Cornish flag, or climbing the
occasional tree to make room for the coach on a too narrow road. A sight to behold!’
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Endoc's Church |
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‘The
sunshine and rain, sand, sea and sky, fields, hills
and rivers, the clergy and welcoming folk, the
birds, animals and flowers - all God’s creation.
The beauty of hedgerows, palest mauve periwinkle,
and pink tamarisk covered in raindrops like cobwebs
overhead. Thanks for the gift of sight to enjoy
the detail of God’s creation. The power of
the sea at the ‘Blow Hole’ near Constantine
Bay. A rainbow of spray above breakers at Mawganporth.
The sun setting over the foaming sea.’
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‘St
Enodoc was the place of magic - a walk down the
lane and across the golf course with views of
the beaches and a dog-walking hillside, where
around the corner nestled a church… what
a trek for John Betjeman’s pallbearers.
There he lies in a simple grave in utter peace
with his childhood memories - and that is where
we were asked to recall ours. No wonder there
were tears.’
‘WE ARE
HEAVENWARD LOOKING PEOPLE - this thought
will stay in my mind forever.’
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Article
collected and edited by Andrea Chance
Photographs by Anne & Ken Preece
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