A1-The Great North Road
Throughout time and distance pilgrims have made their paths. Many must have walked the Great North Road, in whole or part. But not so commonly now do folk journey on a spiritual quest. Satish Kumar, one time Jain monk who walked all the way from India to settle in Devon and run the magazine Resurgence, did make a pilgrimage in the spring of 1986.
Here Satish introduces his journey:
"It is an Indian tradition that when you are fifty you should go on a pilgrimage, so in the summer of 1985 1 began thinking and planning for a pilgrimage to the holy places of Britain the following year. I put a small advertisement in the personal columns of Resurgence to see if there were any Resurgence readers who would offer me a bed for the night. There was such a tremendous response that when I set out I had an offer of hospitality in most of the places I was to visit.
My plan was to start at nine o'clock in the morning and to arrive at my host's house between 4.00 p.m. and 6.00 p.m. in the evening. With a few exceptions, I aimed at walking every day, covering twenty miles per day on average, but a shorter distance for the first few days.
I started out with a small rucksack, one change of clothes and the pair of Polish shoes I had on. I took no book, no diary, no camera, and as on my earlier walk from India to America, no money. Pilgrimage is best when you are travelling light, especially if you are walking."Satish started from his home at Hartland in Devon and walked across southern England and through east Anglia, first picking up the Roman version of the Great North Road at Lincoln. He walked to Edinburgh and beyond by anything but the direct route. From Lincoln he headed north to cross the Humber a little downstream of the Roman ferry route by the Humber Bridge. While the Roman road went directly to York Satish took the scenic route along the north bank of the Humber to Goole and then Selby. From Selby a disused railway line now converted to a cycle path took him to York. Fountains Abbey he found too prettified. "The monks must have chosen this place for its wildness. By taming nature and turning it into a well ordered park, some of the original magic of the place has been lost." But at Rievaulx, "...all my dreams of finding a ruined abbey in natural splendour were fulfilled." He might have found Jervaulx even better but that was too far off his already circuitous path for he pressed on northwards past Lastingham and St. Cedd's crypt and over the Moors to Rosedale Abbey and on to that excellent Camphill Community at Botton Village.
Satish stepped quickly from Guisborough, through Middlesborough and Billingham and came soon to the Great North Road again at Durham. Just north of Durham, at Finchale Priory he tells of a traveler's meeting with lessons out of time for our time:
“I arrived in the Durham of St Cuthbert, a great Celtic Saint. His remains are in the Cathedral and yet he lives in every corner of this splendid city. He was a healer of wounded souls and a teacher of deep compassion.
“Along the River Weir at Finchale Abbey, I saw a gypsy man who seemed to me an incarnation of St Cuthbert. As I approached the Abbey I was stopped by him for no apparent reason.
'Where do you come from?' he asked with a tremendous force.
'From Devon.'
'Now tell me the truth. Where do you come from?'
'From India, then.'
There you are. Where in India?'
'Rajasthan.'
'There you are. The Queen of Rajasthan is the world queen of all Romanies and gypsies. And as a gypsy, my people originate in Rajasthan. Now, hello brother.' He put out his hand to shake mine. 'In my wagon I have rice and spices. Will you come and eat with me?'
'It is very kind of you to invite me, but I must keep on the road. I have a date with people in Newcastle.'
'Never mind, next time. Tell all our people from Rajasthan that their brother lives here and has rice and spices for them.' Then he opened the buttons of his jacket and showed a waistcoat, which he claimed, had been given to him by the queen of Rajasthan. 'We gypsies believe that all boundaries, racial, national or religious are fake. That is why we do not make boundaries and we do not live within boundaries; that is why we follow the free spirit. We will go where the wind leads us, we will go where the clouds lead us. All men are brothers and all living creatures belong to the same family.'
“I heard his words, which were spoken with deep emotion, and could not help but conclude that St Cuthbert would not have said anything very different. Walking in the land of St Cuthbert, I felt he was accompanying me in spirit and showing me the way to Lindisfarne, which is only about one hundred miles away, five days’ walk.”
Satish continued northwards, through Chester-le-Street to Newcastle and the Buddhist Aruna Ratanagiri monastery at Harnham, a little west of Morpeth. He walked through the woods of the Coquet Valley to Alnmouth, staying at the Franciscan Friary (more here) and continued up the Northumberland coast, stopping a while on Lindisfarne, even closer to the spirit of St. Cuthbert than Durham allowed, before setting off again, "...the Cheviots on my left and the Lammermuir Hills in front like a gravitational force pulling me towards them."
Edinburgh he described as "...the most attractive city of Britain. Not too big, not too small, not too commercial, not too crowded, it is a city graced by the sea and Arthur's seat. A night's sleep in the midst of a living tradition and ancient myths renewed my spirit for the eternal quest." And there we must leave Satish Kumar for while he walked across the Highlands to Iona our road stops at Waterloo Place.
©Biff Vernon 2002