31 km
From every shires ende
Of Engelond to Caunterbury they wende,
The hooly blisful martir for to seke,
That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke
― Geoffrey Chaucer, The Canterbury Tales
Ever since I began my walk in Leeds, Yorkshire it has been interesting and entertaining to observe people's reactions when I told them I was walking to Canterbury, and today was no different, even though the town was only 30 kilometres from this morning's starting point in Charing. When I boarded the bus from my overnight stopping point in Westwell Leacon to ride a few stops back to the trail where I had left off walking the night before, in Charing, the driver was a chatty and inquisitive type, and seeing my backpack and walking poles, he asked where I was walking to. When I replied Canterbury - only a day's walk away at this point - he responded "Good God!" 😅
I had no trouble finding the trail again, and the first couple of hours were uneventful, following the same type of trail as yesterday, through the trees and fields straight ahead along the side of the ridge.
When I finally came to a bend in the trail, at the village of Boughton Lees, I found a church by the side of the road and saw that the door was open. When on pilgrimage I always go into all the open churches along the way, wherever possible, and so I stepped up to the door. Hearing the sound of the organ playing, I went in.
The Sunday morning service was just ending, but the parishioners invited me to join them for coffee and biscuits in the adjacent hall. In actual fact the entire church of St. Christopher's was originally a medieval hall, later used as a barn and then as a school; only in modern times has it been adapted for use as a church.
I asked about a pilgrim stamp and was told that there was one in the old church of All Saints, just up the trail; over coffee, one of the ladies volunteered to walk with me there, open the church and stamp my pilgrim credential.
Marion and I set off together, stopping by her house to pick up the keys. Marion's husband Michael was practicing the saxophone when we arrived, but he put it down to walk with us to the old church.
Marion and Michael told me that the church of All Saints in Boughton Aluph stands where the village used to be located before it was devastated by the Great Plague in the 1390s, after which the villagers moved closer to the great house and estate where many of them were employed, Eastwell Manor, now a hotel and spa. The old church, dating back to the thirteenth century, is in need of repair and has no heating, so the villagers can only use it in summe, which is rather ironic considering that it is a rare example of a church with a fireplace! The reason for the fireplace is that in Chaucer's day, pilgrims used to gather here, stop and wait until they had accumulated a large enough group to cross the forest together safely. They would sleep right here in the church while they waited.
The famous counter-tenor Alfred Deller is buried in the churchyard, and an annual festival of early music, the Stour Festival, is held in the church and on the lawn outside. Tents were being put up for performances as this year's festival is coming up soon, starting next weekend!
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| Artist Marion Lynn with her paintings of musicians in All Saints Church in Boughton Aluph |
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| Plaque in Canterbury Cathedral in memory of Alfred Deller |
I thanked Michael and Marion for taking me to the church and showing me around, said goodbye and ventured alone into those very woods where bandits and brigands used to frighten pilgrims in Chaucer's times. Nowadays brigands no longer roam with impunity, but the woods were full of young people burdened down by gigantic matching red backpacks, out on a two-day excursion to qualify for the Duke of Edinburgh's Award. I spoke to one small group and told them I had done it in my day, with a three-day canoe trip in Canada; however I didn't tell them that I was on a 28-day hiking excursion!
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| A tree that has blown over but refuses to stop growing |
I emerged from the forest at Chilham Castle, which is actually a privately owned manor house, and sat on a bench in the Chilham village square to eat my picnic lunch. I had a nice chat with the parents of one of the teenagers in the woods, who were waiting to take her home on the other bench. Then I pressed on with a bit of road walking, having lost the North Downs Way but sticking to the route of St. Bernard's Way.
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| Chilham |
At Chartham I joined a path along the River Stour, which I followed all the way into Canterbury. The Stour is another of the world's 240 chalk rivers, which I have learned to recognise on this trip, though I now realise I saw one in Galicia, too. Just think of the Pre-Raphaelite painting by John Everett Millais of Ophelia floating along the stream: that's what a chalk river looks like.
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| The River Stour |
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| Ophelia floating down a chalk river |
Following the stream, I came into a riverside park where the people of Canterbury were spending a leisurely Sunday afternoon. But I hurried on through the city gates and along the high street to the cathedral precinct, where the bells were ringing: I had arrived just in time to attend choral evensong in the quire!
