St Peter's Friars pilgrimage along St Cuthbert's Way

As May was ending, St Peter's Friars took to an ancient path; exactly which roads and turns were once trodden by this Celtic Saint isn't clear some 1400 years later.
Our plan was to take 4.5 days to walk from Melrose to Lindisfarne. I took the train down to Tweedbank, meeting a French Canadian couple between Glasgow and Edinburgh, and walked the serene half hour distance to our meeting point. Glyn and Cerys poised with rucksacks, rollmats and camping kits that dwarfed my backpack. a quick catch up in a cafe, a cross dispensed and we were soon off up a steadily steep hill Eastward.
at the cleavage of our first significant hill I stopped a chap coming up the hill behind us. I presented a cross to him explaining that Jesus presented himself to people as a stranger and that as a stranger I wanted to offer him a cross. He indicated that he already knew Jesus, we spoke for about an hour and despite our doctrinal differences his gentleness overshadowed all frustration, before parting I had the honour of praying for him.

A mile or two through some wooded curves in the path, my boots plainly not so well worn in and already developing a blister, we came beside a river where Cerys boldly offered a lady a cross. Perplexed by the natural invitation to receive a gift or an unfamiliarity with the personal significance of a wooden cross she was nonetheless disarmed by our companion's kind offer.

The weather was persistently sunny and humid so as we continued along the river I was already sore and wayning so soon into our journey. It was an ambitious first day and unfortunately we had to rest some 6 or 7 miles into our first leg. A taxi took us to a place where we could continue our path; Glyn and Cerys particularly enjoyed the alliterations of 'Aye' from our driver. Already well versed in Scottish conversation I had not even noticed. Choruses of  'Aye' would become an anthem of trek. Needless to say, our driver too was given a cross.

Our last two miles gave us few aquaintances but as we entered Jedburgh my friends were to be freshly greeted with Scottish kindness as a local chap in a van pointed us to our campsite along a gorge. After distrupting our campsite owners from their sunday night in we began to pitch camp, our tents unravelling, I see our new neighbours getting twitchy in their campervan and I wonder if they are concerned we will distrupt their idyll. The lady, named Kathleen asks us if we would like a cup of tea. Such kindness. I begin to partake in what Glyn and Cerys have already reported- the welcome and hospitality they have received has been such a blessing. We are on this walk in the hope of meeting God in a new way in a new place and sharing the hope we have and so much of what we have experienced is the kindness of others.

G&C head off for the shops and hitch hike with a French Chap, the unusual becomes so naturally experienced on these sorts of excursions. We become completely available to interuptions; human and miraculous that fatigue of fresh blisters, sore shoulders and aching hips become souvenirs of a day well spent.

We slept well every night, night 1 was surprisingly comfortable for my first night. We returned Kathleen's mug with a cross in it. The chap who was walking Land's End- John'O'Groats had headed off up the road we had come down and we were soon packed up for the road to Kirk Yethom. The copses and fields of this leg were stunning; rustic woodlands and wild flowers reminding me of childhood. These small collectives of trees sheltered us from the intermittant rain and sun of the morning. It was quite late in the morning that we ran into a couple from Kings Lynn who asked us to pray for their friend Julie who recently lost her daughter of 33. They warmly received a cross each, we exchanged notes on our respective adventures and proceeded between more fields on hills. Well into day 2 and my feet are quite sore from the weight of my bag and the sorer blisters. Despite my concerns, I did not have to miss any further sections of our walk and the pain eased as we got more used to walking and the hills became less frequent.

Late afternoon we came to a village where a lady in her garden spoke of having lost her husband and that she regularly met people like us passing through. We came to the end of the village and I spotted a Church building that looked a bit different 'Ohhuh' I exclaimed, they also had a cafe and it began to rain so we made the decision to pop in for a drink. other customes shuffled about to make room.

As the cafe emptied we spoke to the proprietors, of their vision to renovate and make this special building into a place of worship along this historic way. Margaret prayed for our various ails and I told her how special I felt this building was- old and new. A welcome break and time of fellowship.

This is their website and page if you wish to visit:

https://www.facebook.com/coffeeshopmorebattle/

https://www.gofundme.com/improve-coffee-stop

By the end of this second day we were very tired and it was a struggle to go the last few miles into Yetham and out the other side. The village reminded me of a village in North Norfolk or perhaps it was more to do with the exhaustion of a similar walk in my teens. I became short tempered as my digestion protested alongside my feet and hips. We finally arrived at the Youth hostel in Kirk Yethom and my patience has long since subsided. The full depth of my character has drained out of me and all I can offer the dutch women relaxing in the kitchen is 'Sorry, but I cannot stand here any longer' I would shortly return, boots off with 2 crosses and an apology. These ladies were no offended and apparently were far more acquainted with long distance walks than I was (One reported that she annually partakes in a 4 x 50 mile a day march in Amsterdam- I was was undone).

The Chap who signed us in was enthusiastically offered a cross too to which he replied 'No thank you very much, I will save my own soul', startled I replied 'OK!' and wondering whether I or he was supposed to be embarrassed. I am still unsure as to whether he had understood that his soul was on my proverbial checklist. If so I am still the worst kind of evangelist who has failed to secure any souls for Jesus. I cannot save his soul nor did I intend to.

I also offered a younger chap a cross. He had a sharp mind for the local geography and had recently experienced too much rain attempting the St Cuthbert's way as a camper. He explained in one conversation that his communication skills were a problem so as I offered him a cross and he didn't immediately take it I put it on the side for him to decide if he wanted it. I could have easily felt insecure after my recent awkwardness with the other guy but I knew this was a whole other apprehension.

The next day, yet more beauty in varied forms met our gaze. Glyn lays a cross on the path which we later learn was collected by a guy who caught us up on day 4.

Late morning we're gaining on an American couple who have just entered a woods in front of us, as we cross the stile they reemerge in the opposite direction and ask us 'do you know the way?' I gesture to the flourescent arrrows and lead them on. as we come the end of these woods, I realise that I have something else to tell them. 'We're on a pilgrimage and we're giving out crosses along the way, I just want you to know because you just asked us the way and we believe that Jesus is the way.' stunned the pair accept the cross but decline the offer of prayer. I perhaps was more brazen because they were American and walking an ancient pilgrimage, to me the truth seemed so simple and obvious to share with them, so I did.

We decide to take an early lunch break and then meet a couple from Chester, it turns out he is minister of church which used to host a project I once ran and that we had met several years earlier though I had not recognised him with his shades on.

Glyn gave a cross to a farmer who crossed the fields on his quadbike, he responded very positively to our message, we then crossed a wet and wearying moor in drizzly windy conditions. we had now been walking a long while after our lunch and still had no concrete plans for the night. Nearing our last mile before Wooler we met a former scoutleader who directed us to a youth hostel, we gave him a cross and offered prayer.

We managed to secure beds at the second youth hostel and enjoyed fish and chips before returning to the common room for a bit of route planning. Our company was in a duo of cyclists from Bradford and a mother and daughter enjoying a break from the daughter's job in the forces, all warmly accepted a cross each before we left the following morning.

As we passed through the main throng of the village I spoke to the local vicar, offered her prayer as I commended her for wearing her collar for everyday errands like food shopping. Glyn spoke to a blind man who knew exactly the wood of the cross and spoke to various others before we were in frieds and moors again.
We climbed one of the last hills before the cave of St Cuthbert and found an injured sheep which for lack of signal and data meant I had to trot to the nearest house and request the visit of the appropriate farmer. It seemed that there was so little to be done for this sheep as we feared it would not make it.

At the cave it was clear that quite a thing had been made of the site and that it was an attraction to many pilgrims, we took time to have lunch before Glyn led us in a reflection beneath the trees, finally depositing some crosses for passers-by.

Over the very next hill we caught sight of the sea some 4 miles and one last exchange before we crossed the A1 and East coast rail line. A guy was taking a break outside a house he had been renovating for the last 4 months. I gave him a cross and he accepted prayer as he and his girlfriend had recently broken up, he asked me if the cross would bring him luck. Keen to catch Cerys and Glyn up, who were now out of sight, I responded that I would pray it will.

My penultimate give-away was a 'you matter' card given to me by a friend from Whiteinch church, a chalk drawing with the word 'Justice' written and a wooden cross. I prayed for redemption in the life of a man who confided in me that his holiday was really a get away as he and his wife considered the future of their marriage. Of all the people I met this was the most moving and timely exchange as there was a true sense that God wanted to interupt his situation with hope and encouragement.



We were met with Helen and Denise the night before, enjoyed yet more fish and chips and good fellowship, so close to our journey's end and yet had to wait for midday to cross the sands from Beal to Lindisfarne. My boots got wet so we paddled and let the first of the walkers across the causeway that day.

A few hours spent on the Holy Isle were greatly enjoyed, still with a sense of returning to an England of my childhood; phoneboxes and nearly pedestrianised lanes. I noticed a girl with bright clothes and decided she should receive my vinyl heart decoration, the final item to offer and just moments before I would begin a journey with Helen to Tweedbank station.