I am still rejoicing in the divine irony of the fact that 2020 was designated the ‘Year of the Pilgrimage’ (ha! If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans).

In celebration of that fact, Durham Diocese developed a series of six pilgrimage routes radiating out from Durham Cathedral (or indeed, radiating in, as each route brings people from the far-flung corners of the diocese in to its centre). They are known as the Northern Saints’ Trails, and you can find out more on their website, www.northernsaints.com.

My friend Elizabeth is currently serving as the vicar of Trimdon, a parish exactly halfway between Hartlepool and Durham; and in celebration of the fact that we are finally allowed to move around again, she had invited me to walk with her on the ‘Way of Love’, the 28-mile pilgrim route which links Durham to the east coast. Its alternative title is the ‘Way of Sanctuary’, as alleged criminals forced to seek sanctuary in the Cathedral could be sent out of the country via the port at Hartlepool.

It isn’t dramatic countryside, but it’s quietly rural and surprisingly varied, ranging from post-industrial mining landscapes to steep wooded valleys known as ‘denes’, one of the region’s most distinctive topographical features. For some of its length the path follows the Raisby Way, route of one of the many decommissioned railway lines now reinvented as ‘greenways’. There is a nature reserve at Cassop Vale, and another at Trimdon Grange Quarry, with rare flower and butterfly species; and everywhere you can see wild orchids and the carmine pink ‘Bloody Cranesbill’ unique to the north-east.

The route starts at St Hilda’s Hartlepool, a Norman church which is all that remains of Hartlepool Abbey, founded in 640 CE as a double monastery (for both monks and nuns); its second Abbess was St Hilda, who subsequently founded the Abbey at Whitby (and presided over that famous Synod). The solid and imposing church, built on the headland at Hartlepool, is just one of a varied series of churches along the route. Four miles further on you reach the church of St Mary Magdalene at Hart, a 12^th century building with considerably older Anglo-Saxon roots (and a stunning modern glass window).

Trimdon parish includes Trimdon Grange colliery, the site of a terrible mining disaster in 1882, when seventy-four men and boys lost their lives; and the church of St Alban at Trimdon Grange proudly displays the banner of the Durham Miners’ Association. In an interesting contrast, the other parish church in Trimdon Village is notable for the stone plaque near the entrance which tells you this was the spot where the local MP, then Prime Minister, Tony Blair gave his famous ‘People’s Princess’ speech, announcing the death of Princess Diana in 1997. The church itself, also named after Mary Magdalene, is one of only two English churches to boast a horseshoe arch, a feature more commonly associated with Moorish architecture. (Incidentally, it too has a couple of beautiful pieces of modern glass.)

Well, that was as far as we got on Day 1, and by the time we got back to the vicarage we were both hot, sweaty and sunburnt. On the following day, by contrast, it rained every single moment of the day, and by the time we reached Durham, we were damp down to our underwear, and my trusty (and hitherto waterproof) boots had given up the unequal struggle against the elements and started to let in water. As a result, we squelched into the Cathedral, hair plastered to our heads, and fell gratefully on tea and slices of cake in the Undercroft.

Despite the rain, though, the day brought its own delights. Our route took us past the site of an abandoned medieval village at Garmondsway, now a ghostly field, and on to the foursquare 12^th-century white church of St Helen at Kelloe, where the Romantic poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning was baptised. It’s also famous for the St Helena Cross, hailed as one of Britain’s most significant Romanesque sculpture finds. We ate our lunch sitting huddled one on either side of the footbar of a stile, the nearby hedge the nearest we got to any shelter. By then my fingers were so numb I could hardly do up the catch of my backpack.

At Cassop Vale we should have been able to catch our first glimpse of the Cathedral, but the place on the skyline where it should have been was shrouded in mist. Just as well, as I didn’t fancy dropping to my knees, pilgrim-style, in the middle of the mud. Low point of the day was walking uphill through a field of rape, the path so slippery that we had to catch hold of handfuls of the crop to haul ourselves up! The sight of the Cathedral did, eventually give us new heart, and we enjoyed the view across the Old Durham Gardens, sprawling down a terraced slope by the River Wear, before winding our way into the ancient city of Durham. Elizabeth had arranged for us to be met by one of the Cathedral chaplains, who took us into St Cuthbert’s chapel and gave us a blessing and a pilgrim’s medal each. Oddly enough, it turns out he grew up in Banbury!

I am always struck, on long-distance paths, by the way the landscape, and the twists and turns of the walk, exist both as real experiences and symbolic ones. The view across layers of grey sea and sky to the horizon; precipitous descents and ascents of wooded valleys; wading one’s way through long wet grass; emerging suddenly into an ‘open place’: they all so easily translate into metaphors for life. I guess this is why I just love walking on pilgrim routes. There's a sermon in every step! If you had asked me at any point on those two days whether I was enjoying myself, I would probably have said not – not at that precise moment – and yet overall it was a brilliant two days. And I can’t wait for the next time!