I was idly reading an update e-mail from the British Pilgrimage Trust a while back, vaguely considering a new walking project when I went down the rabbit hole of the ‘English Camino’. I’ve heard this term before, in relation to The Way of St Augustine in Kent so assumed it related to that, but was surprised to learn that there was an English leg to the Camino de Santiago de Compostela, arguably the worlds most famous pilgrimage.
One route to Santiago de Compostela (and there are many!) is from the northern coast of Galicia in Northern Spain and known as the Camino Ingles, or English Camino, because that was where many English pilgrims landed before walking to the burial place of St James himself. They probably sailed from Southampton in medieval times (not an option any more unless you’re on a cruise!) and many would have walked there from the centre of the cult of St James in England, Reading Abbey. Thus, in recent years, the Confraternity of St James, have developed, way-marked and promoted the English leg of the Camino from Reading to Southampton, a 110km path starting at St James church in Reading and ending at God’s House Tower near Town Quay in Southampton.
‘Yeah, I can knock that off on five days’ thinks I. And there’s an exciting option to finish it off in Galicia! I click on the link, order myself a pilgrim passport and little guide book. And let them both gather dust while I finished the Vanguard Way, walked to France and went on holiday to Egypt.
Fast forward to November, and a surfeit of annual leave, I opted to eschew mooching about at home and boarded the Great Western Railway from Redhill to Reading to cover the first two thirds of St James Way in England over three days. Cannot resist collecting pilgrim stamps, and who doesn’t love an autumnal walk!
Day 1: Reading to Bramley
Kicking off with a tasty brekkie at Carluccio’s, close to the start point of the SJW, and on a Monday morning the only place you can get a starting pilgrim stamp. Heading through the Abbey Quarter of the town, a real eye opener on the history of a place that I generally consider as being somewhere to change trains to go somewhere else. Very quickly I picked up the Kennet and Avon Canal, which headed west out of town and into the country. Canal paths are beautiful for a while but not what I would call challenging or especially varied and I was glad to turn southwards around Theale to start heading through villages and woodland and even, occasionally, uphill!
My little pilgrim book was very handy, pointing out the way (obvs, although I had OS maps for that too), interesting places and where you could get stamps in the little Camino Card. I was very impressed with how up to date it was, including pub opening times and top tips on things to see and do along the way.
A charming rural walk through Sulhamstead Abbots and Mortimer followed by particular highlights at Silchester. St Mary’s church, located next to the Roman town walls, and a spit away from nearby ruins of an amphitheatre is a beautiful Norman church with medieval wall paintings and traces of Katherine of Aragon’s pomegranates- I’m always fascinated by places that escaped the stern eye of Henry when his first wife fell out of favour.
Silchester was just an hour from my end for day one and I didn't tarry on the Roman walls for fear of losing the light, so pressed on the journeys end (and my final stamp for the day) at St James church in Bramley. Another beautiful little village church with medival wall paintings, the best preserved of which was a 12th century depiction of the murder of Thomas Becket. I'd seen those little flower motifs at St Mary's and in Sulhamstead too- clearly a local painter cornering the market!
From Bramley you can walk a mile to the nearest train station and head back to Reading (takes about 20 mins apparently). I had my excellent, locally living friend, who we shall refer to simply as Jackson, available to not only pick me up from St James' but also give me a bed for the night. Pays to have friends in rural places!
Jackson and I partook of an excellent dinner at the Queens College Arms (so named because much of the land hereabout is, or was, owned by Queens College Cambridge) which is on the SJW. They were kind enough to give me a pilgrim stamp as they wouldn't be open when I was passing through on day 2.
Day 2: Bramley to Dummer
Not content to offer bed and breakfast, Jackson dropped me back at St James church in Bramley to kick start day 2 in lovely autumnal sunshine. I was also sporting a borrowed backpack, courtesy of mein host, as the chest strap on my own had bust the day before (not ideal, my lower back was not in a great state).
I walked west towards Little London (likely a reflection of seasonal farm labourers from the big city coming down) and past the Queens College Arms at Pamber End before turning south westerly to find myself at what is left of the Benedictine Priory of Monk Sherborne. The priory church remains in the gift of Queens College, Oxford and they are obligated to ensure services are still held there.
Onwards into Monk Sherborne which is a tiny village, and then through autumnal copse and over farmland with the edges of Basingstoke winking in the distance. To be perfectly frank, other than being a lovely crisp day and having lots of big sky and mostly the place to myself this section was pretty unremarkable. On reaching the edge of Basingstoke, at Worting, I paused for lunch at St Thomas of Canterbury church; it wasn’t open, sadly.
Crossing over the railway line I picked up the line of the Roman road which runs alongside Kempshott. To my left, 1970s housing, to my right huge sweeps of farmland and hedgerow and ahead a seemingly never ending straight path to the A30. God bless those Romans. A well made cycle path so I picked up some speed, but I must confess my mind started to drift away from the path to what might be on the menu (both food and beer) at my B&B just a couple of mile hence.
On reaching the A30 the SJW crosses over it, and then the M3, to descend into Dummer. I took a slightly different tack, turn right and following the A30 to the The Wheatsheaf where I was booked in for the night. On reflection this was not a good plan. There was no footway and the verge, whilst broad, had been churned up by farm vehicles, was varied in terms of which side of the road it wanted to be on and tracking a very fast, although not massively busy, main road. Should, coulda, woulda.... I shaved maybe 2km of my total journey, not really worth it. However, highly recommend the Wheatsheaf; comfy, large bed, proper bathroom (with a bath and everything) and a lovely bar and restaurant. Very reasonable price (about £85 with breakfast). I bathed, napped and had a early dinner of whoppng great steak. Delicious.
Day 3: Dummer to New Alresford
After my A30 related travails of the previous day, I embarked upon the 25km(ish) to New Alresford with a bit more joy given the glorius sunshine and the excellent eggs benedict I'd had for breakfast. Moving rapidly away from the A30, I followed quiet country roads to Dummer, an ancient little village that has been around since the Saxons but is probably better known these days as the family seat of Sarah, Duchess of York.
All Saints church is at the centre of the village and is also Saxon in origin, with the oldest part still around dating from the 12th century. It had a pilgrim stamp, my first for the day.
From Dummer, the path wends it way gently downhill to Dummer Grange Farm and then over rolling countryside, mostly grazing land, to Preston Candover. The little guide book was at pains to note that this was the last bastion of civilisation (i.e. it has a corner shop) before reaching Alresford, but my tummy was still full of eggs and I had tea and biscuits in the bag, so I pressed on and didn't go into the village.
However, just at the edge of the village, close to the SJW path is the Old Church of St Mary the Virgin. All that remains is its chancel. Originally founded in 1190, it was damaged in a fire in 1681, rebuilt, enlarged in the 1830s but ultimately abandined in 1885 for a new church (also St Mary the Virgin) in the centre of the village. Now managed by the Churches Conservation Trust this is a little gem of a building. Standing slightly forlornly in a field, surrounded by crumbliung gravestones, it is the essence of faded rural glory, a testament to the lives that flowed through the place whilst at the same time a memorial to a time long departed. A real atmosphere pervaded the place, but not a sad or even spooky one, but a sense of place. And the experience of living in that place. I haven't felt that kind of sense of place since the Kentish leg (or is it leg of Kent?) of the Greensand Way. The photo won't do justice....
Moving on from Preston Candover, the path once again took in rural views until meeting the quiet road into High Wield, another chocolate-box village to get house envy in. I was by this point starting to feel a little like one of MR James' slightly ditzy antiquarians visiting local churches to taking brass rubbings (or in my case, photos), at risk of finding something eldritch lurking behind a rood screen. And the next tiny village church didn't disappoint....
Another St James, simple and typically Norman, this one had something outside that drew me in, a sign for the 'Toc H chaplain'. Now, a bit of background; me and him-indoors, occasionally in the company of wider family, have done a number of battlefield tours in and around the Ypres Salient in Belgium. In Poperinge there is a place called Talbot House, or in the arcane abbreviations of the British Army in 1915, 'Toc H'. The House was an 'everyman's club', opened to provide a respite from the atrocities of war, where rank was no issue. The name commemorates Gilbert Talbot, who was killed in action on July 30, 1915, who hailed from an important local family in these parts. Anyway.... Having heard of Toc H I decided to look inside and there was a small but beautifully curated exhibition about the local lads who didn't make it back from the front. I was admiring the pieces around the alter when out of the corner of my eye I caught the outline of a ghostly apparition in the stalls. As I turned my head another appeared! Now the lone wayfarer can often come across unusual and strange feelings in out of the way places, but this genuinely gave me a fright. On closer inspection (and before fleeing in terror) I realised that the church had put transparent 'cut outs' of the remembered fallen in the pews. It was very effective, and quite moving. Once the terror had subsided....
On leaving Upper Wield I shortly picked up the Oxdrove Way which ran more or straight into Old and then New Alresford. Similar to day two this was a straight grassy route running between hedges without much to recommend it in terms of views and things to look at. But again, I picked up some pace and made the last few miles in good time.
New Alresford is a large and rather bougey town with lots of independent shops and a pretty Georgian High Street. Not hard to imagine Jane Austen swinging by to shop for bonnets, or quill pens. I picked up a last pilgrim stamp at St John the Baptist church before heading for a pint at the Swan Hotel and meeting yet another handily placed chum (who we will call Ted. He has a son. Therefore he is Father Ted to Little Ted.) prior to being treated to dinner and a lift back to Winchester to get the train home.
Three days, about 62km. So not massively strenuous. It's been strange writing this up; in terms of highlights these days were not as varied as the Old Way or Vanguard Way. It wasn't as storied as the Greensand Way or the Via Francigena either, but taken together was without doubt some of the most enjoyable walking I've done in a while. There is something about having everything you need on your back, and whilst I wasn't camping, the peripatetic nature of walking over multiple days and staying along the way really appealed. Also delightful to stay with or see chums along the way, whilst at the same time revelling in the solitude we introverts occasionally crave.
I'm looking forward to the next two days that will take me to Town Quay, and have already started working out exactly how to get to Galicia to take a slow meader to Santiago.
Watch this space.
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