Lesley's Blog
For many years my parents lived in North Wales, a very special area of the United Kingdom that I delighted in exploring, especially on foot. On the North West side of Wales is the Llyn Peninsula, at the end of which is Bardsey Island, known in earlier times as The Island of Twenty Thousand Saints. A place of pilgrimage, especially in the Middle Ages, Bardsey Island can be a challenging place to access with the turbulent waters of the Sound making the several mile trip unpredictable at best. Whether it was the difficulty of the journey or the holiness of the island, or both, it was traditionally accepted that three pilgrimages to Bardsey were equivalent of one to THE place of Christian pilgrimage, Rome.
I arrived in the village of Aberdaron on the evening of a warm summer day to begin my own form of pilgrimage to Bardsey. After staying overnight in a bed and breakfast establishment, I started off early the next morning in plenty of time to find the boat, or so I thought. The parking place, I had been told, was a field from which there was a long walk down to a beach and the boat. The field proved to be very elusive and, after losing the way for a while, I finally arrived at 10:10a.m. I raced in to park my car, with the dire warning ringing in my head that I had to be at the loading area by 10:15a.m., the implication being that the boat would wait for no man (or woman for that matter). The uneven path across more fields down to the cove was fortunately just that, down hill. I ran vigorously to arrive panting and exhausted, late. No boat was in sight: an interesting beginning to my "pilgrimage" day, especially as the boat approached the shore about an hour later.
Several people were wandering on the beach and an older woman and young boy were amazingly swimming in the frigid ocean. The were part of the Ch..... family, the brave swimmers being the grandmother and grandson. Mr and Mrs Ch..... had been to Bardsey several times and on one occasion, they told me, had been stranded for several additional days, after a week's stay, when bad weather prohibited their return boat journey across the Sound.
The Ch.....'s had been involved with organizing a pilgrimage for two thousand people from the Diocese of Bangor, a town on the North Welsh coast. The journey was significantly easier and faster than for earlier pilgrims who endured hardships galore in order to reach the holy destination. In contrast these modern day pilgrims set out in luxury coaches. Several energetic and dedicated individuals did choose to walk a section of the original pilgrims' way, a minor "hardship" in comparison.
Part of Mrs Ch.....'s job was as organizer of "conveniences" as they are known in Britain (or bathrooms in the United States). She contacted villages along the route to ensure an ample supply of "loos". Apparently, on arrival at said toilets, they often found them adorned with a fresh coat of paint, probably the first for many years. The villagers had clearly been spiritually inspired! With great ingenuity Mrs Ch..... also persuaded a small group of monks at a retreat house along the way to open up their latrines. It was a massive degree of organization for a potty break. Oh! the joys of being a modern pilgrim with all the modern conveniences.
At first reading, a journey of well organized luxury might not seem like a very adequate "pilgrimage" but who are we to judge. It is likely that each participant had his or her unique spiritual process and experience, not to mention the impact on the public toilets along the way. Doing something very small with little effort can be as transforming as a lengthy arduous experience. I believe that whatever we need spiritually is what is presented to us and it is up to us to decide what to make of it, large or small, easy or difficult.
As for my own Bardsey experience? I'll let you know next blog.
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