There are a few places that I make a pilgrimage to regularly, where I have a kinship and need to pay homage.  These places are all clustered around three key areas in the South West of England, the Salisbury Plain in Wiltshire, Purbeck Isle in Dorset and Glastonbury in Somerset.  However as I begun writing the article it became apparent that to include all the places in those areas would make the article be far too long.  So I decided to make this a three part article, today I’m writing about an area that I find most spiritual  - Glastonbury.

Glastonbury

I have always loved the air of magic and mystery that surrounds Glastonbury and not because of the music festival, in fact I’ve never attended the festival and have no plans to do so.  It’s the mystical feel to the very land and buildings of the area and in particular Glastonbury Abbey, The Chalice Gardens and Glastonbury Tor.

Glastonbury Abbey

Glastonbury Abbey Sketch - Copyright R.Weal 1998

Set within 36 acres of parkland, the ruins of Glastonbury Abbey are a beautiful and tranquil setting and a wonderful place to spend some time sitting and contemplating the world and your place within it.  For these reasons and the many myths and legends that have sprung up around it have contributed to the abbey becoming a revered place of pilgrimage over the centuries of it’s existence.

I first visited the abbey  on a stunning summer’s day back in August 1998 where I spent many hours walking the grounds, absorbing the tranquility and peace of the place, taking my time to sketch and photograph the ruins.  I left that day feeling centred and grounded, peaceful and reinvigorated, ready to face the grind of daily life, which was a rare and great gift indeed.

The abbey’s history as a sacred site goes back a long way, starting with the pre-Christian Britons.  According to Medieval Christian myth the site was later visited by Joseph of Arimathea who founded the abbey back in the first century around 63 AD.  The first stone abbey was said to have been erected by King Ine of Wessex back in 712 and the abbey was built up and extended over successive centuries.

Glastonbury Abbey Ruins - Copyright R.Weal 1998

The Normans made extensive additions to the buildings until a great fire consumed much of the structures and treasures in 1184.  It took 30 years to rebuild, but the popularity of Glastonbury continued apace until the dissolution of the monasteries by Henry VIII in 1539.  In the same year Glastonbury Abbey was ransacked of all valuables, which were sold off for the King’s treasury and the Abbot Richard Whiting hung from Glastonbury Tor.  The Abbey then fell into ruin until it was purchased in 1908 by the Bath and Wells Diocesan Trust to preserve it for a new generation of pilgrims.

Glastonbury Abbey Detail - Copyright R.Weal 1998

There’s also got the legend of King Arthur which has become intrinsically linked with Glastonbury and the abbey.  Many believe that Glastonbury is the site of the mystical Isle of Avalon where Excalibur, King Arthur’s mighty sword was forged and Arthur’s final resting place where he went after being mortally injured and from which he will emerge when the land needs him most. Within the Abbey grounds are a pair of graves which are reputed to be those of King Arthur and his queen, Guinevere.

Ruins of Glastonbury Abbey - Copyright R.Weal 1998

The story goes that in order to raise funds to rebuild the abbey after the 1184 fire, pilgrims went in search of the graves of Arthur and Guinevere in 1191 and the bones of two bodies were unearthed from deep graves on the south side of the Lady Chapel.  The bones were finally re interred in their current home many years later in 1278.

Regardless of your religious or spiritual beliefs you can definitely feel the sense of awe and power that the grounds have inspired in countless generations of pilgrims and worshippers.  The abbey ruins themselves have a majestic presence, they’ve stood against the test of a King’s wrath and the ravages of time.

If you get the chance to visit the Abbey I promise you won’t be disappointed.

Glastonbury Chalice Well Gardens

The Chalice Well - Copyright R.Weal 2007

On the outskirts of Glastonbury, on the main route into town is one of the most beautiful, enchanted and sacred places on the planet.  Archaeologists believe that the well has been in use for over 2000 years.  Since 1959 the Well has been under the stewardship of the Chalice Well Trust that was set up by Wellesley Tudor Pole.  The gardens are well maintained and there is a small, but interesting gift shop and regular events for those of a spiritual nature.

The Chalice well is a natural spring which has been regarded as holy site of pilgrimage due to the water’s purported healing qualities.  People of diverse faiths, spirituality and backgrounds still travel from all over the world to partake of the waters and pay homage to the sacred site today.    Pilgrims are able to bathe in the waters in the healing pool and to drink and fill bottles with the spring water at the Lion’s Head Fountain.

The Vesica Pools - Copyright R.Weal 2007

Many myths and legends surround the well, such as the Christian myth that the well marks the site where Joseph of Arimathea placed the chalice that caught the drops of blood from Christ at the crucifixion, which has led to numerous stories of the well and the Holy Grail.  It is also associated with the feminine aspect of the deity, with the Tor representing the masculine and is a place of pilgrimage for those people who come in search of the divine feminine.  Regular celebratory events marking the Christian and Pagan calendars are held within the grounds, details of which can be found on the Chalice Well website.

The Lion's Head fountain - Copyright R.Weal 2007

The water travels down through the Chalice hill and has never failed even during times of drought.  The water has a red hue which is due to the iron oxide deposits in the water, which stains the stonework of the pools and fountain and give the water its distinctive taste.  Some Christians have suggested that the red is a representation of the rusty iron nails used in the crucifixion.

The well, spring Healing pool, Vesica pool and Lion head fountain are set amongst colourful, beautiful and fragrant gardens and orchards that make for a peaceful and serene walk, with ample opportunities to take photographs and numerous private nooks where you can stop to contemplate the world, sketch or write.

I spent a wonderful afternoon in the Chalice Well Gardens with my Dad there back in the summer of 2007.  It wasn’t a planned trip and we ended up going to the Tor and then on to the Chalice Well Gardens, followed by a perusal through the lovely shops in Glastonbury town centre.  It was about this time that I started getting serious about photography and you can see the pictures I took of the Chalice Well Gardens on my flickr set Glastonbury Sacred Chalice Springs.

Glastonbury Tor

Dad & The Tor - Copyright R.Weal 2007

Up on the summit of Glastonbury Tor you can see out for miles over the Somerset levels.  It’s a truly magnificent view and well worth the trek up to see it.  The Tor itself is striking, rising up out of the plain known as the Summerland meadows and being the only high point within the levels that surround it.  Back when the levels were fenland (wetlands), the Tor would have risen up as a lone island.

On the summit you’ll find the imposing St Michael’s Mount, a 15th Century Tower, which is all that is left of the church that once graced it.  It also has the unsavoury reputation of being the place where the Abbot of Glastonbury and two of his monks was hanged in 1539 during the dissolution of the monasteries.

As with Glastonbury Abbey, the Tor has been a sacred place for a very long time and there is archaeological evidence that it was populated as far back as neolithic times and has been inhabited throughout the centuries since.

The Tor is now under the stewardship of the National Trust and is open every day of the year and free to visit.  It’s not the easiest place to get to by car, but there are regular coach tours run from Glastonbury town centre.

Daughter in the sky - Copyright R.Weal 2007

As you look at it from a distance and whilst walking up to the summit you will notice that there are seven deep terraces cut into the Tor.  These are one of the most enduring mysteries associated with the landmark, with a number of theories having been proposed, but nothing proven.

Just like the Chalice Well, there are many myths and legends associated with the Tor, not least of which is the legends around King Arthur and Avalon.  Legend has it that the Tor is the Isle of Avalon, or the doorway to Avalon and the world of fairies.  In more modern times a myth has arisen around the idea of a grand Glastonbury Zodiac, which is an astrological zodiac said to be carved into the ancient hedgerows and track ways.

St Michael's Mount Archway - Copyright R.Weal 2007

Standing up on the Tor it’s hard not to feel the presence of the place.  The wind whistles around you, clearing your thoughts and imbuing you with a sense of power, coupled with the seemingly unending 360 degree views that give you a sense of omnipotence.  It’s easy to see how the Tor has come to represent the masculine elements of the deity.

I visited the Tor one summer’s day with my Dad back in 2007.  It was a totally unplanned trip, which also included a visit to the Chalice Well Gardens and shopping in the quirky Glastonbury Town Centre.  I remember how thunderous clouds threatened to rain down upon us all day, but never touched us.

I left feeling energised and reinvigorated after my trip up to the Tor, not to mentioned inspired.  I found myself fired up with a burning creative energy which I channelled into my burgeoning hobby of photo editing/manipulation of the photographs I took that day, which you can find in my Up on the Tor flickr set.

That concludes my places of pilgrimage in Glastonbury and indeed my places of pilgrimage in the UK.  I hope you’ve enjoyed your trip through my memories of these sacred spaces and beloved places that I make pilgrimage to.  If I’ve inspired you to visit just one of the places I’ve written about then I count myself very lucky.

Happy trails pilgrims

Wealie x

Salisbury Plain
The Isle of Purbeck

There are a few places that I make a pilgrimage to regularly, where I have a kinship and need to pay homage.  These places are all clustered around three key areas in the South West of England, the Salisbury Plain in Wiltshire, Purbeck Isle in Dorset and Glastonbury in Somerset.  However as I was writing the article to include all the places in those areas it turned out to be far too long, so I decided to make this a three part article.  Today’s article looks at an area that perhaps has the happiest and most holiday feel to my memories, the Isle of Purbeck.

Purbeck Isle

The Isle of Purbeck is not actually an island, but a 60 mile square area of land on the south west coast in Dorset, England.  There are a number of places here that I find irresistible to visit, Corfe Castle, Studland Beach, Swanage Bay, Wareham Forest and Lulworth Cove. Lulworth Cove I discovered in later life, but Corfe, Studland and Swanage have been mainstays of holidays and family days out since I was a very young child and I have nothing but positive memories connected with these places.

Corfe Castle

Corfe Castle Sketch - Copyright R.Weal 1998

Corfe Castle holds a mystical power over me which I find difficult to explain.  All I can say is that for as long as I can remember I’ve felt at home there, as if a part of me knew it before I ever became conscious of such complex thoughts.  When I have been in dark places it has been a beacon calling out to me, a true north to guide me back to the essence of me when all around me are trying to contain me within fleshy walls of unreality.  Perhaps that sounds overly dramatic, but regardless it is my truth.

Bankes Hotel (Corfe Village) - Copyright R.Weal 1998

Walking amongst the ruins is a true joy to me. I love to touch the stones and let them speak to me, call to a me that isn’t me, to a time in which I can’t possibly belong.  I have walked around it countless times, photographed, videoed, sketched and written about the castle ruins, slept in its shadow at the Bankes Arms hotel, studied it’s history, witnessed an eclipse from within it, dragged numerous friends and family to it and constantly wondered at the magical spell it holds me under, musing as to why it makes me feel so warm, content and safe.

Corfe Castle - Copyright R.Weal 2009

As a child it was the first sign that we were only minutes from Studland beach and I always felt a strange tugging, a longing to go there instead of the beach.  I would find myself turning in my seat as we passed it, watching it until it was finally out of sight.  My Granddad would always recite his silly story about how the castle got its name:

“Do you know how come it’s called Corfe Castle girls?” my Granddad would say, to which my sisters and I would unerringly reply, “No Granddad” amid girlish giggles at the tired and worn joke we knew was coming, but couldn’t help, but love.  ”Well, it’s because the silly idiot that built it forgot to put glass in the windows, so all the people who lived there caught colds and started corfing and corfed it right down”.

Corfe Castle View from Village - Copyright R.Weal 1998

The wry grin that would play across my Granddad’s lips was a warming sight, as was the mischievous glint in his eyes that always accompanied it.  Then one of my sisters or I would pipe up “But there’s not such thing as corfing Granddad!”
“Ah, but there is, it’s how they used to say cough and coughing in old English!”  The laughter that always issued forth from Granddad and his three granddaughters is a precious memory that it always warms me to share and I can’t help but keep up the tradition myself whenever I visit with guests in tow!

To say that Corfe is captivating, inspirational and awe inspiring is like saying water is wet, it’s so obvious to you the moment you see its majestic beauty rising up above all the surrounding landscaping.  A commanding presence, it must have been quite a sight when it was intact.  Corfe Castle is now lovingly cared for by the National Trust and is open all year round to visitors and I thoroughly recommend a visit to my castle.

Studland Beach

Studland beach was the place my Nan taught me to swim, where I became her mermaid diving beneath the waves.  It was where my Dad took me rock pooling and I felt like I was an intrepid naturalist in the vein of my hero Sir David Attenborough.  It was a place that my whole family visited often for weekend beach days, to rest, relax and have fun.

Ben and Dylan at Studland Beach - Copyright R.Weal 2009

I remember setting off with my Mum, Dad and sisters, stopping off at Westbury to have my Nan and Granddad and my Uncle Steve join us and create a three car caravan to Studland.  I remember begging to be allowed to go in the car with my Uncle Steve, because he always drove fast over the long road past Wareham Forest with the big bumps that had your tummy sailing up to your throat!

We would arrive early – the Weal family always made the most out of beach days, up at the crack of dawn and leaving the beach just before the car park closed.  We would arrive just as the gates to the car park were opening and we were always sure to get our obligatory large area marked out with blankets, towels, wind-breakers and assorted inflatables before settling in for some hardcore relaxation and beach time.  Granddad would be sat fully dressed in a deck chair, with his shirt unbuttoned down to his navel and the shirt sleeves and his trousers rolled up.

Nan was always the first to come into the water with us, even though it was probably too cold.  At lunch a great big feast of a picnic was a must and cheese, ham and sand (yuck) rolls were always on the menu along with a carton of orange juice and the obligatory trip to the ice-cream hut with Nan or Uncle Steve.

Sand castles and sand pits were an art form with Uncle Steve and Dad on hand, whether it was being buried alive, or burying someone else alive, creating and elaborate fort, castle or boat, there was always much fun to be had in the sand.  This probably also accounted for the copious amounts of sand in the ham and cheese sandwiches, my swimming costume, my sandals, the car and at the end of the evening the bath after we washed up for bed!

Studland South Beach Sketch - Copyright R.Weal 1998

After lunch was the rock pooling with Dad and Uncle Steve.  We would always bring back the catch in our buckets to show the rest of the family before quite rightly setting them free back in the sea a little way out from the shore to keep them safe from those pesky seagulls who would otherwise have made a feast of them.

Late afternoon heralded the time to build up the sea defences as the tide turned and headed back in shore. Dad, Uncle Steve, my sisters Shelley, Sarah and I would all valiantly attempt to hold back the sea with large sand walls, deep trenches and lots of shells and stones, but alas to no avail.  The surf always won in the end, but watching the final destruction was also half the fun.

The year I turned ten my Nan taught me to swim at Studland, it is one of those picture perfect memories indelibly written on the fabric of my mind.  I remember how firmly I believed that I was a real mermaid and bless her heart, my Nan didn’t contradict me. Some years later I wrote the following poem about my experience learning to swim at Studland with my Nan.

THE LITTLE MERMAID

If I hold my breath, if I dive real deep, Nan, will the mermaids come and fetch me?
If I close my eyes, if I swim real fast, will I get my mermaid tail at last?
If I sit on the sand, with the sea on head, will I find the mermaid’s bed?

I have to be the little mermaid again; the ten year old girl who believed in miracles, that if she held her breath for long enough, her legs would dissolve and she would be the mermaid beneath the waves. Dancing in the surf, diving in the shallows, revolving around her grandmother’s legs, like yesterday had never happened, that today would never end and there would never be a tomorrow. She lives in me still, the brown eyed, sun kissed child that made her grandmother laugh with the absurdity of her belief and the strength of her conviction. At one with her own nature and the world that she surrounds herself within. Lost within her words, weaving stories around those she loves to fascinate and entice with her picture of another world, a world through her eyes, a world that only she can truly behold.

I feel sometimes as if the cup of my emotion would never cease to overflow, my soul too big for this meagre earthbound frame, spilling out and infecting others with my heightened emotions. An almost frightening power, it slumbers restlessly beneath the surface of the organised and rational woman who stands before you now. I guess she is my artist, she is the words, the movement that courts the tempo, the paint strokes that flow from my hand, the voice in my head that drives me to write, the vision that sees before I ever create the shapes of which only I know the true meaning and the whisper of a thrill that drives me as my body melds to the music. Yet she is also the insidious whisperer, who can drive me to distraction, who can take me to the depths of despair as quickly as she can launch me into the moonlight to bask amongst the stars. And so again it begins to sound like poetry…

If I hold my breath, if I dive real deep, Nan, will the mermaids come and fetch me?
If I close my eyes, if I swim real fast, will I get my mermaid tail at last?
If I sit on the sand, with the sea on head, will I find the mermaid’s bed?

Awaken little mermaid, I truly need to find you.
Ruth Weal 08 November 2006 6.24 am
Copyright R.Weal 2006

Dedicated to two special women
For Nan, for never telling me I could not be the Mermaid of my daydreams
For Susie, for giving me a reason to write the words and find my little mermaid again
x

Swanage Bay

Swanage Sunset - Copyright R.Weal 2006

And now we fix our gaze on Swanage Bay.  Just around the corner from Corfe Castle and Studland, it forms the third point in a geographical triangle of mystical power and protection for me.

Swanage was always where we went for our early evenings after a day out at the beach on Studland.  Fish and chips eaten with legs dangling over the edge of the path down into the harbour.  Wrapped up warm in cardigans to keep out the evening sea breeze.  Fending off the seagulls out to nab our chips (I had a fair few stolen from my fingers) and then into the penny arcades to win a piece of tat and waste some 2ps on the shove ha’ penny machines.

It was with great pleasure to me that Ben and I took Dylan to Swanage and introduced him to all my favourite things to do and it was heartening to see that he enjoyed it as much as I had at his age and that over the years so little had changed.  But what is always enchanting to me is that my enjoyment of the activities had not dimmed in the intervening years between my child and adulthood.

Swanage - Copyright R.Weal 2006

The whole family, grandparents and Uncle Steve included spent a summer holiday in Swanage when I was ten.  I remember clearly the self catering house we had rented high up on the hill and the long walk up from the town centre to get to it.  I remember my parents worrying about our Volkswagen Beetle’s brakes, leaving it in reverse to ensure it was still there when we got up in the morning!

It was that holiday where my Granddad and Uncle Steve successfully got me to put a saucepan on my head and of course my Uncle Steve had his camera handy to record the moment for posterity!  I never did live that one down, it was almost as memorable as the time I excitedly flashed my Granddad my new bra – well it was my first one and I was about 9 at the time!  Truth be told I didn’t have a lot to put into my 24 AA cup anyway ;-P

Well, not to change the subject, but back to the saucepan – you’re probably wondering how they got me to put it on my head in the first place?  Well my Granddad being a first rate deadpan joker had asked me why I was taking a saucepan up the stairs.  When I informed him that there wasn’t a shower head attachment in the bathroom so the saucepan was being used for rinsing of hair he promptly asked me if it would fit and muggins here said “of course”, stuck it on my head and then heard the click of Uncle Steve’s camera.  Yes, I was well and truly got!

Deserted Swanage Bay at 6 am - Copyright R.Weal 1998

I have always loved the little curio shops in Swanage and I could and have spent hours walking in and around them perusing the various items of curiosity, tat and art that they contain.  Even today where many other town high streets are becoming devoid of any diversity Swanage remains a beacon, an oasis of individuality that always heartens me.

There are a number of alternative clothing outlets and I remember I bought a pair of trousers in one of them back in the mid 90s that I still had until a year or two ago.  The patterns on the waist band were faded beyond recognition and the fabric was falling apart, but I had worn those trousers religiously throughout the 90s and into the 00s and it was a really difficult decision to finally let them go.

Swanage Open Air Theatre Sketch - Copyright R.Weal 1998

One of my favourite things about Swanage is the open air theatre and it is a place that I’ve often visited over the years, especially around my birthday, I sketched the picture on the right of the open air theatre as the sun was fading on my birthday back in 1998.

Throughout the summer Swanage puts on a beautiful fireworks display every Saturday night that attracts people from far and wide.  The best vantage point for viewing the fireworks is definitely up on the hill or on the open air theatre.  If you’ve never seen the fireworks you really should go along, especially as they are free!  Get there early (they start at about 8.30 to 9 pm) to get your fish and chips before the queues get too long and to make sure you get a good place to view them as it is very popular, especially in the School summer holidays.

In 1998 I spent my first and only birthday to date alone sat up on the hill looking down over the open air theatre watching the fireworks.  It was as if they had been put on especially for me and it was a wonderful culmination to what was a great day and part of a very special pilgrimage for me.

Swanage is an excellent place to take a holiday or day trip out to.  There’s lots to see and do and it’s also a great base for exploring the surrounding area within the Purbeck Isle.

Wareham Forest

Pine Cones on Branch - Copyright R.Weal 2009

Wareham forest is a stretch of forest that we always used to drive past on our way to Studland beach and also the location of the bumpy road that I mentioned above.  It’s seems strange that as a child we never stopped to walk around this lovely evergreen pine forest, but then again when you’ve got three young girls eager to get to the beach perhaps it’s not so strange!

I didn’t really come to appreciate Wareham forest until I was an adult.  I’ve visited a few times and always had my camera with me to take some pictures of the flora and fauna that is on show in abundance from spring through autumn.

Lichen Close Up - Copyright R.Weal 2009

As someone who has grown up in an area dominated primarily by deciduous forests Wareham forest also has a slightly alien and foreign feel to it that is very appealing to me.  Sometimes it is good to walk in a different world, even if it is only an hour or so away from home.

Wareham forest has some lovely walks, with well trodden and mapped paths which don’t require too much effort to navigate and are not challenging in terms of terrain.  A nice post-Sunday lunch walk could easily take in a good part of the forest and leave you feeling like you walked off the extra roast spud you shouldn’t really have eaten, but not leaving you feeling like you climbed Mount Everest!  It’s also a great place to visit to pick up a few fallen pine cones to decorate for your Christmas Tree.

Lulworth Cove

Finally we come to Lulworth Cove, which I didn’t discover until I was in my early twenties.  It is a beautiful little cove round the corner from Swanage, Studland and Corfe.  Think challenging windswept cliff walks with outstanding views and you’ve pretty much got Lulworth Cove pegged.

One narrow and hilly road descends through the tiny little village, which leads you down into the cove itself.  There’s a large and well equipped  visitor centre which makes it clear to you immediately that this is a National Trust protected piece of coastline.  There’s also ample parking and facilities as well as some local shops and pubs.

Map of the South West Coast Path

If you’re looking for more than a few curio shops and seaside vendors, a good bite to eat with a pint followed by challenging walks with great views then I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. The size and peacefulness of Lulworth is the next biggest attraction on top of the outstanding views and walks.

It’s part of the south west coast path, which is the longest way marked long distance path in the country and a national trail, which basically takes you round the south west “foot” of England, starting up in Minehead, Somerset, travelling across the top of Devon and Cornwall, round the tip of Land’s End, back through the bottom of Cornwall and Devon and into Dorset where it ends just past Studland.

Bassett Hound (Lulworth Cove Limestone Folding) - Copyright R.Weal 2009

Lulworth is also part of what is known as the Jurassic Coast, which has been deemed a world heritage site as it consists of Triassic, Jurassic and Cretaceous cliffs, spanning the Mesozoic Era, documenting 180 million years of geological history.  Lulworth is particularly known for the Cove and its fine example of Limestone folding.  You can see an example of this in the photograph to the left, the limestone folding here gives the impression of a sleeping bassett hound, at least it looks that way to me!

If you want to find out more about the Jurassic Coast the heritage centre at Lulworth Cove is a great resource.  If you’re lucky you might even find yourself a fossil down amongst the rocks and pebbles on the shore!

There isn’t really much more I can say about Lulworth, really it’s the breathtaking views that speak volumes, so I’ll let a few of my pictures do the talking instead of my words.

Lulworth Cove Blues - Copyright R.Weal 2009

Sunset Beach at Lulworth Cove - Copyright R.Weal 2009

Lulworth Cove Setting Sun - Copyright R.Weal 2009

South West Costal Path (Lulworth Cove) - Copyright R.Weal 2009

That concludes the second instalment of my Places of Pilgrimage, if you haven’t seen the first instalment please feel free to check it out and find out about the places I love in my home county of Wiltshire and specifically around the Salisbury Plain. Keep your eyes peeled for the final instalment number three – Glastonbury!

Tread safely in the light my friends.

Wealie
x

Salisbury Plain
Glastonbury

There are a few places that I make a pilgrimage to regularly, where I have a kinship and need to pay homage.  These places are all clustered around three key areas in the South West of England, the Salisbury Plain in Wiltshire, Purbeck Isle in Dorset and Glastonbury in Somerset.  However as I was writing the article to include all the places in those areas it turned out to be far too long, so I decided to make this a three part article.  Today’s article is part one of three and starts with the area closest to home – the Salisbury Plain.

Salisbury Plain

Avebury Stone Avenue - Copyright R.Weal 2010

In, on and around the Salisbury Plain there are a lot of wonderful ancient monuments and sites of historic significance and beautiful landscapes, gardens and breathtaking views.  I love these places and always have done since I was a young child.  Brought up in a family where an appreciation for the richness of history and culture was consistently reinforced and encouraged meant that I was exposed to historic places like Avebury, Silbury Hill, Stonehenge and Kennet Long Barrow on a regular basis.  An appreciation for the beauty and awe inspiring power of nature was bred by numerous visits to places like Stourhead, run by the National Trust and Heaven’s Gate and Shearwater Lake, which are both on the Longleat Estate.

Something about the feats that the builders of the monuments at Avebury, Silbury Hill, Stonehenge and Kennet Long Barrow achieved lent an air of stupefied solemnity to me even as a young child.  I never pass them without a feeling of reverence and pride that I have lived most of my life amongst them and that others travel hundreds of miles for just a glimpse of them and yet right now I drive past them all every day on my way to and from work.

Sunset Stone at Avebury - Copyright R.Weal 2010

Of them all Avebury is the closest to my heart, a place to go and contemplate, the nearest place I have to a church, where I can commune with nature and the power of the Earth itself.  A place where you might find me on the night of a full moon making offerings to concepts bigger than myself.  During the day it is a place I love to have my camera at hand, to capture the desolate beauty of the surrounding countryside, offset against the magnificence of the Avenue and Rings of Stones.  A truly magical and mysterious place that everyone should visit at least once in their life.

When it comes to sheer appreciation of beautiful views I cannot choose between Heaven’s Gate, Shearwater Lake and Stourhead.  All three have very different aspects that I enjoy.

Heaven's Gate Ring - Copyright R.Weal 2007

With Heaven’s Gate most people visit to see the magnificent view down onto the Longleat Estate, but most quickly come to realise that there is so much more to this area, which becomes a riot of colour with the rhododendrons in the spring, the effervescent green of the summer and the autumnal perfection with the turning of the leaves come early October and even in winter the views are quite stunning!  Added to this is the the addition of the Stone Ring and horse shoe of standing stones which were erected as part of the Millennium celebrations.  It’s a beautiful spot for contemplation, photography and an appreciation of the beauty of the British countryside.

As a child we would visit Heaven’s Gate every year for the spring Rhododendrons and the autumnal procession.  I remember thinking it must be some sort of magical place where fairies and angels lived to be called Heaven’s Gate.  In my youth I never quite understood that it was the beauty of the place and it’s views that had lent it such an auspicious name.

Shearwater is a beautiful man made fresh water lake that sits on the outskirts of the Longleat Estate. It’s popular for fishing, sailing, walking, cycling and of course photography.  Shearwater is situated nicely between Longleat and Warminster in a picturesque area of Wiltshire on the cusp of the Deverills at Crockerton.

Last Peek (Shearwater Lake) - Copyright R.Weal 2010

The lake is surrounded by many beautiful specimens of deciduous and evergreen trees and shrubs/bushes such as Rhododendrons.  There’s lots of wildlife on and in the lake, from the fresh water fish – carp, bream, roach, perch, tench and rudd to the many water fowl – Canada geese, ducks and sea gulls.  In the woods the sharp eyed will see numerous grey squirrels and if you’re lucky you might even spot a deer or two peeking out from the dense foliage of ferns.

As a child I used to love running free through the small forest that skirts the lake, walking with my family as my Dad explained things about nature that I found absolutely fascinating and he would make me walking sticks, tickle my back with assorted pieces of foliage and engender a great love and affinity for the woodland around me.  When I visit there these days I am often with camera in hand, but the child within me still has the urge to run wild through the forests and I am transported back to simpler times.

Palladian Bridge and Pantheon view through the trees at Stourhead - Copyright R.Weal 2006

Stourhead was always a full day out.  A beautiful house and managed gardens (I didn’t really appreciate the house as a child).  My sisters and I used to love running through this beautiful garden estate which has various exotic and local varieties of trees some of which date back to the mid 1700s and were planted right at the garden’s inception by Henry Hoare II.  It was Henry who had the gardens designed and created between 1741 and 1780 in a classical 18th Century design, with a central lake as a focal point.  The inspiration for the gardens came from painters such as Claude Lorrain, Poussin and most notably Gaspar Dughet, who painted Utopian style views of Italian landscapes.

The gardens must have been a great labour of love for him and it shows through the attention to detail and the feeling you get of effortlessly walking from one world to the next, so masterfully planned and deliciously executed. Trees and shrubs were brought in from all over the world and successive generations of Hoares added to and enhanced the gardens until it was passed on to the National Trust in 1946 who have continued to care for the house and develop the gardens.

Palladian Bridge in twilight (Stourhead) - Copyright R.Weal 2006

On the surface it would seem that Stourhead bears much in common with Shearwater Lake, a lake at the heart, surrounded by woodland, but Stourhead is a much more controlled and deliberate environment than Shearwater.  This both adds to and detracts from it – the sense of raw, untameable beauty I experienced in the Shearwater Lake forest is missing, but the beautifully crafted temples, bridges and grotto that are dotted throughout the gardens enhance the sense of otherworldliness and a magical timelessness.  The exotic trees and shrubs bring to life vistas many would never have seen without the efforts of the Hoare family.

As a child Stourhead was a place of exploration and adventure, a place to let lose knowing that your parents were just a little way back along the path.  A place to picnic and eat ice-cream in the Spread Eagle Inn just outside the gardens.  I always seem to “glow” when I visit Stourhead, as an adult there are just too many images to capture and like Shearwater Lake and Heaven’s gate spring brings a riot of colour through the Rhododendrons and Autumn is a spectacle of red and gold.

I feel peaceful and right when I’m at Stourhead and that’s a feeling that everyone should be able to experience and cherish.

Well that’s it for this instalment, I hope you enjoyed my memories of the places I love on the Salisbury plain and perhaps I’ve whetted your appetite for a visit.  Don’t forget to watch out for part two of my places of pilgrimage – The Purbeck Isle, where I’ll explore some of my most treasured holiday memories.

Sleep tight pilgrims, see you on the next wagon train.

Wealie
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The Isle of Purbeck
Glastonbury