St James Way: days 4 & 5

It's been a busy old time in the daily grind recently, and since January (2025) I've had a slight feeling of overwhelm on the old work front. Which led to two things; an explicit requirement to get out on the trails for some much needed mental recuperation, and the fact its taken me almost a WHOLE YEAR to get round to writing this blog! Sorry about that.

So, back in the mists of April 2025, I packed up the Osprey bag with a couple of days of clothes, took two trains and a bus back to New Alresford where I had left off in November 2024. Starting the day with an excellent cheese and bacon turnover at the high street bakery, I sallied forth with Winchester in my sights! I was planning a 20km day 1 to St Cross on the southern side of Winchester, followed by a 25km trek to Southampton along the Itchen to finish up the English leg of the Camino de Santiago de Compostela at the Tudor House and Gardens on Bugle Street.

Heading south westerly out of New Alresford I picked up the main path which was variously labelled the Itchen Way, the Allan King Way and St Swithun's Way, giving away the fact that this is a much traversed part of the country, linking up the North Downs and Pilgrims Way, criss crossing on the route from Winchester to Canterbury, where all pilgrimage paths seem to lead. And, of course, this is beautiful country anyway, with quaint and picturesque villages hugging the River Itchen all the way to where it meets Southampton Water. My first stop, after a fairly rapid traversal of gently undulating farmland and a short walk through a bit of woodland was Ovington where I did not tarry but quickly picked up a pilgrim stamp from the church and headed over a footbridge to find myself walking a narrow path with watercress beds on both sides as the Itchen eddied around me. So beautiful and rather tempting to stop for a swim! Having crossed the river I reached Itchen Stoke and was planning on crossing back over to pick the Itchen Way back up again, but found myself cut off by flooding. Curses. A quick peruse of the OS app put me on an alternative route along the north side of the river that took me through Itchen Abbas to rejoin my planned path.

Passing through villages, I was struck by how many churches, however small, carried a sense of long continuity: flint walls, wooden doors worn smooth by centuries of hands, churchyards shaded by ancient yews.

By early afternoon I was approaching Winchester, its skyline dominated by the soaring mass of Winchester Cathedral. Pilgrims have been coming here for more than a thousand years, and stepping into the city after hours of walking felt like joining that long procession. The streets were lively, with students, shoppers, and visitors threading between the Guildhall, the statue of King Alfred, and the cafés spilling out onto pavements.

Winchester was my stopping place for the night; I stayed at the King Alfred pub which has great food, cosy rooms at reasonable rates and is oozing with character. Staying in Winchester felt fitting. Sitting in the cathedral on a brief visit later in the afternoon (wave your Pilgrim credentials and they let you in for free, unless you're attending a service of course), I reflected on the bones of St Swithun once carried here in solemn procession, medieval pilgrims arriving with sore feet and fervent prayers.

After my brief visit to the Cathedral, I walked on up to the Hospital of St Cross to finish my kms for day. The Hospital of St Cross was quite an experience and I couldn't quite believe I'd never been there before. Founded in 1136, The Hospital of St Cross and Almshouse of Noble Poverty (to give it its full name) is a medieval almshouse described as "England's oldest and most perfect almshouse". The Hospital of St Cross is still doing what it’s been doing for centuries, quietly housing a small community of older men, known as 'The Brothers', all under the care of 'The Master'. There are 25 places in total, and the Brothers belong to one of two linked charitable foundations. Those of the Order of the Hospital of St Cross (founded c.1132) wear black robes and hats; those of the Order of Noble Poverty (founded 1445) wear claret hats robes in memory of Cardinal Beaufort. Thus there are 'Black Brothers' and 'Red Brothers'. It all sounds faintly post-apocalyptic fiction to me, but its real enough. I even spotted a Red Brother giving a tour.

The next morning, after a thoroughly refreshing sleep, I left Winchester by way of the Itchen Navigation, a beautiful waterside path that carried me south. This stretch was perhaps the most meditative of the journey: reeds rustling, swans gliding past, the rhythm of my boots on gravel. I had a couple of minor detours and fence-clambering adventures as portions of the path were still flooded. By the time I reached Shawford, about halfway between Winchester and Eastleigh I was ready for some elevenses. These were supplied by the excellent 'Platform 1 Coffee House' at Shawford station (where I also got myself a stamp!)

The landscape flattened; the chalk gave way to lowland meadows, then the fringes of modern urban life as I went through Chandlers Ford and the outskirts of Eastleigh, planes from Southampton Airport overhead and finally the telltale signs of paddleborders on the navigations close to Swaythling, not far from my old university halls of residence.

Walking into Southampton was a different experience to arriving at Winchester, prefaced by a meander through the Itchen Valley Country Park, which morphed into the more manicured Riverside Park on the approach to Bitterne. The official route at this point crossed the river ar Cobden Bridge and went through town, but I stuck to the east side, passing through Bitterne triangle, along Peartree lane and into Woolston, crossing the Itchen bridge before meeting the medieval walls that would have greeted pilgrims coming to, and leaving from this still thriving port city. The diversion gave me a chance to revisit old haunts (and see what people have done with our old house!).

I finished up at the Tudor House and Gardens, with a delightful chat with the team there followed by a well derserved pint (or two) at the Platform Tavern, appropriately built into the original Southampton City walls and likely the site of many a final ale before departure over the ages.

These five days of walking from Reading to Southampton was almost an incidental undertaking in a year that already had big walking projects (domestic and international) but gave me an enormous sense of satisfaction. The Camino Inglés, is merely a prologue to the main event in Spain, but pilgimage is really partly about making the link from one’s own land and home to special, spiritual places and I felt that this route did that admirably with a great balance of grand religious statement, and the essence of spirituality in everyday, humbler lives, through both places of worship and landscape.

Proof, if proof were needed!