Glastonbury Abbey
Day number 2 on our Southwestern tour. We were determined to make the most of every minute. Wow, looking back at everything that we did in a single day, it's no wonder I felt justified in just skipping out on running all week long. At least we hit the ground hard in the first half of the trip and then it wound down a little bit more near the last day or two.
The second day we drove to Glastonbury Abbey in the morning- located in Glastonbury. The tour here may be my favorite tour yet. The abbey is just a remnant of what it once was- vast walls, ruined archways, weather stones, lonely pillars scattered among flat green fields. I thought it would be boring, but I was wrong. Those ruined stones are a monument and a layered tapestry full of colorful, mystical and mysterious stories. Stories dating back to Jesus Christ and Joseph of Aramathia and the Romans.
Our tour guide was a skinny older man with a spring in his step and a crooked smile. He was full-out decked in period clothing from Henry the 8th's time, including a short sword and a knife. Our group was broken up into two separate halves, half going with our guy, and the other half with a younger woman also dressed in period clothing. We got the better guide by far, I
discovered, after talking and comparing experiences with other girls who had the woman. I felt grateful because I thoroughly enjoyed our guide's excited take on the whole experience. Though it was a windy, overcast day, none of that touched us as we listened to our guide tell us stories interlaced with true facts known about the abbey.
Glastonbury Abbey may have been founded by Joseph of Aramathea in 60 AD ish- making it one of and perhaps the 1st place of Christian worship made after Christ's death. (our guide, at this point, made it very clear that the founding of this abbey is so laced with superstitions and stories and is so old that no one knows for sure how or who actually founded it, so these stories of it's founding are all just that: stories— which we could choose to believe or not believe). Later on, King Arthur may have lived in this land, for it is speculated that it could have been Avalon
because of the Tor here. A Tor is a tower on a great big hill (sometimes man-made). This land, way back when, was probably mostly under water, and the Tor, being so high, would have been
an island— Avalon. Also, some monks “Found” king Arthur's grave and his and Guinevere's
bones (supposedly). It's said that Joseph of Aramathea brought the holy grail here with him and if that's so, then it figures that Arthur would be drawn here too.
It's all superstition and myth, but it's really neat and fun to think about. Even today lots of people (hippies and spiritualists,etc) come on their own quests for King Arthur.
The guide told us a story that there's a well on the side of the tor that has a spring running out of it that turns the rocks around it red (probably from minerals in the H2O) but he said people thought this well might be the place where Joseph of Aramathea buried the holy grail and the two jugs (one of Jesus' blood, the other of His sweat) to hide them from conquering Romans. The red rocks were believed to be red from the water running over the blood and then staining the rocks. A neat little story.
Also, it is said that the Tor is where Joseph landed when he sailed here and he planted his staff on the top of it and it grew into the Holy Thorn, a tree which blossoms in April and in December, 2 times a year— one time near Easter, and one time near Christmas. Soo, the stories as well as architectural and historical facts, made the abbey come alive.It's neat to believe in King Arthur. I'm not a devout “Arthur follower” or anything, but I do think it's nice to have a great mythical person to believe in, to cater to the idea that he actually existed. I mean, I do that with Jesus Christ (except that I know He's real and He lived and walked the earth). It's interesting, because, after I thought about this very thing, our class had a discussion on how cultures around the world and in every generation, have this need to form some sort of hero/king figure to believe in.
We talked a little about it what it means, and I personally came to the conclusion that it is merely a testimony that we all have the light of Christ in us and that because of this, we unconsciously (or consciously) seek out the giver of that light, our creator. And, also, it just shows how the truth from the beginning can become watered down and transformed and changed until it's unrecognizable, but that some key elements always stay the same.
Boscastle and Tintagel— two sea-side towns located in the Cornwall region of England.
We drove first to Tintagel (emphasis on the “tag” when saying it out-loud), which is a little town filled with white-washed stucco and slate cottages poking up like stray sugar cubes in a green, weathered wilderness that falls off into the sea, giant ragged grey cliffs yawning and slashing at the frothy white waves that break against them.
On the hike between Tintagel and Boscastle
Beautiful. Awe-inspiring, grey solemn place, where the colors are very much subdued— expect for the yellow scrub-brush flowers that grace the hillside, and the clear, turquoise water near the cliffs (as the water gets further out into the Irish sea, it greys).
The group of us (49) split into two separate bands— one hiking from Tintagel to Boscastle and one from Bostcastle to Tintagel. I was in the former.
So, we made our way to Bostcastle. The hike was about 5 miles and took us 2 and a half hours, but that was with a lot of picture taking and slow-going because the views were all soo beautiful.
I loved it. I discovered that I am obsessed with rocks with holes in them. I just find them so aesthetically pleasing. I'm obsessed. The hike was wonderful, refreshing, and every time you came up and over a hill, the whole landscape was completely changed and a whole new picture-taking opportunity!
When we finally reached our destination, though, we were thoroughly worn out- we started at 3 pm and didn't get to Boscastle until 5:30.
Boscastle!
Boscastle is adorable. You know those figurines of villages and people that come out at Christmas? People collect them and they're so cute and some light up or move around and stuff and they create little villages with them, etc? Well, Boscastle looks just like that, except it's for real.
It is hidden in a little inlet that comes from the sea, piercing the cliff-faces and creating a crevice. The little town sits at the bottom of this, and as you approach, you see only a sea-break wall, then the path turns a corner, and the pictures que cottages come into view.
Emily (bottom) and Me (top right) in the Irish sea at low tide!
Later, after a delicious homemade meal Peter cooked for us all (a pasta dish with garlic bread, fresh green beans and grapes), my friend Emily and I went out to the harbor, in the dark, at low tide, and waded in the Irish Sea! It was really fun but rather scary because we were barefoot with no light. It was cold but not freezing— I think much warmer than the pacific ocean.
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