‘As pilgrimages go, that’s not too taxing,” I said when I came across the newly fledged St Hilda’s Way, which opened in June 2015 to surprisingly little fanfare, given its coastal location. At just 40 miles, the route – from the Yorkshire coast up onto the North York Moors, then down the Esk Valley to Whitby – seemed gentle enough. All one had to do en route was take in eight churches dedicated to the 7th-century Saint Hilda, visit a couple more with Hilda-esque connections, and finish at Whitby Abbey. “Not sure I’ll even bother to take a compass,” I said.
It was on our first afternoon, trundling across Easington High Moor, alone but for the company of skylarks and lapwings, when my fellow pilgrim pointed out that the reservoir ahead looked suspiciously like the one we should have left behind an hour previously. I had been following the excellent guide to the pilgrimage and simply couldn’t fathom what had gone wrong. We cut our losses and headed down to Ainthorpe. There, the 16th-century Fox & Hounds inn delivered friendly faces, an open fire, reviving food and crisp sheets.
In truth, St Hilda’s takes a while to get going as a pilgrimage. We had jumped off the bus from Saltburn and started our quest, as instructed, by dipping our hands reverently in the waters of St Hilda’s Holy Well beside her church in Hinderwell, just past Staithes. However, we were not to reach our second sacred site – St Hilda’s near Danby, and all of 10 miles away – until the next morning. By then we had put behind us the austere beauty of the wild and apparently limitless moors, whose glimpses of civilisation amounted to woebegone sheep and the occasional stone wall, and began shadowing the river Esk. Here the scenery took on a more domesticated feel: we looked across the valley to brave little farmhouses and often found our way flanked by the yellow explosions of daffodils. Since the route also includes a wonderful descent into Whitby, affording cracking views of the town and the sea beyond, it’s doubtless only the small-scale nature of the guidebook’s publisher that has kept the pilgrimage from registering on the radar of Britain’s walkers thus far.
At St Hedda’s, at Egton Bridge, we marvelled at the extraordinary relics of Nicholas Postgate, an 82-year-old local priest who was hung, drawn and quartered in 1679 for being a little too Catholic. The hoard included his tiny crystal cross, a lock of his hair, and an item that can only have borne mute testimony against him: a worn wooden rosary.
The nearby Postgate Inn that bears his name boasts an award-winning restaurant, and the food – mine a delicious platter of spicy vegetables and raisin chapatis – was some distance from the fare one associates with a spiritual odyssey.
The next day did its best to put the “grim” into pilgrimage, with sleet, hail and snow. Meanwhile, the mud from all the counties of England seemed to have converged in North Yorkshire for some kind of conference. It meant we were pitifully grateful for the “trods”: these ancient pannierways, stone blocks laid end to end, took us up and over fields and down through pungent carpets of wild garlic, transforming themselves into stepping stones to bear us safely across thrillingly frisky becks. It was impossible not to feel like pilgrims as we stepped on slabs hollowed by the scuffling of medieval wayfarers, and ate plum bread from Botham’s the bakers, in the village of Sleights.
By now, the churches were coming thick and fast. St Hilda (more properly St Hild) was born in 614 and raised in the court of her uncle, King Edwin. She became a celebrated teacher and founder of the first abbey at Whitby. Our guidebook included a treasure hunt, so at each church we went scurrying around, seeking out stained-glass windows, statues and other Hildarata, while attempting to answer such thought-provoking questions as, “What legacy would you like to leave for others to follow?”
At St Hilda’s in Sneaton, a plaque bears the legend Post Tempestatem Tranquillus (“After the Storm, Peace”). It proved prophetic, for the skies cleared soon afterwards as we made our triumphal entry into Whitby, over a disused railway viaduct high above the Esk. Weary but buoyed by having weathered the deluge like proper pilgrims, we made for our final lodgings, Sneaton Castle, an event-venue-cum-super-posh-hostel that conveniently shares its charming grounds with St Hilda’s Priory. After breakfast, we found ourselves amid genial nuns in biscuit-coloured habits, congregating in their cheerful, sun-drenched chapel for Sunday service.
Shouldering our packs for the final time, we ambled through Whitby to the accompaniment of pealing bells. We mopped up the final churches – at St Mary’s, the box pews (one reserved for the “church maid”), galleries and gargantuan triple-decked pulpit are really quite something – to come at last to our journey’s end: Whitby Abbey, that prodigious skeletal landmark on the clifftops, Bram Stoker’s eternal hostage.
I have since scrutinised large-scale maps of Easington High Moor and still cannot explain how we went awry. I have to conclude that it was St Hilda’s doing. The consummate teacher, she is still handing out lessons: to me, in humility; to my companion, in forbearance. For both, particularly the latter, I am truly thankful.
• Accommodation provided by The Fox & Hounds, Ainthorpe (doubles from £89 B&B, 01287 660218, foxandhounds-ainthorpe.com); The Postgate Inn, Egton Bridge (from £80 B&B, 01947 895241, postgateinn.com) and Sneaton Castle Centre, Whitby (from £34.55pp B&B, 01947 600051, sneatoncastle.co.uk). Trains from London to Darlington (2 hours and 20 mins) provided by virgintrains.co.uk (0871 977 4222). Northern Railway goes from Darlington to Saltburn (£8.20 single) and Whitby to Darlington (£12.20 single). The St Hilda’s Way guide (£5) is available from dalescourtpress.co.uk. Visit yorkshire.com
More pilgrims’ trails
St Edmund Way, East Anglia: 79 miles
A lowland amble heading north from Manningtree in Essex to Brandon in Suffolk, taking in the Stour and Lark valleys, by way of Thetford Priory and Bury St Edmunds, resting place of the martyred King Edmund.
• bit.ly/1VPAJXO
Saints’ Way, Cornwall: 29 miles
A lesser-known coast-to-coast route that follows the journey taken by Cornish and Welsh saints (it’s also known as Forth an Syns) from Padstow on the north coast to the southern port of Fowey via St Breock Downs.
• bit.ly/1MPhPxD
Three Choirs Way, south-west Midlands: 100 miles
A potentially intoxicating, circular pilgrimage through orchards, hopyards and vineyards, celebrating the 301-year-old choral music festival that rotates between Gloucester, Hereford and Worcester cathedrals.
• countryside-matters.co.uk/ 3choirsway.html
Cistercian Way, Wales: 650 miles
A gargantuan loop, joining the great Welsh Cistercian abbeys using pilgrim roads and ancient tracks. Thankfully it can be broken into more manageable chunks, such as the 15-mile Wye Valley section between the abbeys of Grace Dieu and Tintern.
• bit.ly/1Sln9ZM
St Cuthbert’s Way, Borders/Northumberland: 63 miles
The pilgrimage follows the life of the eponymous saint: starting in Melrose, where he began his work, and crossing the Cheviots to end on Holy Island, where he eventually became bishop.
• stcuthbertsway.net
