On the Way to Knights and Kings

My day in Glastonbury was the highlight of my 2002 Samhain trip to southwest England. Morning dawned unexpectedly beautiful--sunny and warm for early November in England. I woke to birds singing and incredible coffee brewed in a fancy French coffee press. After a decadent bath in a huge claw-foot bathtub brimming with “real English lavender” bubble bath, I enjoyed a yummy traditional English breakfast with two interesting students—one Greek and one French--and Terry, our B&B host. (My B&B in Amesbury, Catkin Lodge, was 5 minutes from Stonehenge and “simply smashing.” See more details abut this fine accommodation at the end of this article.) My host and fellow breakfasters assured me that the drive to Glastonbury was about an hour, perhaps a bit more. With sun was shining brightly, off I went with map in hand in search of the graves of King Arthur and Guinevere and the mythological last resting place of the Holy Grail. 

The route to Glastonbury from Amesbury follows the A303. The A303 is a "dual carriage way" (two-lane highway), but not limited access like American interstates. During the day, it's quite nice. There are two lanes, so the folks going 80 in the 60 mph zone can whoosh by as quickly as they like. I found it a bit difficult at first remembering that the LEFT lane is the SLOW lane. The beeping of an irate “lorry driver” enlightened me quite quickly. At night, as I returned, I found the A303 quite dangerous and choked with rush hour traffic in the early English dark. Roundabouts replace exit ramps and are confusing and dangerous. I circled one roundabout twice before I fought my way into the proper lane. The A303 switches back and forth between 1 and 2 lanes, with little notice or reason, so someone like me driving on the “wrong side of the road” for the second time, the first on crowded highways like this one, has a lot to anticipate. The narrow streets and lanes never cease to amaze me or the places where people will risk their lives to pass you: hills, corners, anywhere they feel like they are being held up by the silly American (Yank) woman actually following the speed limit. At least I had an automatic transmission, thanks to Auto Europe, a car rental company I highly recommend to all my fellow travelers. Automatic transmissions, which we take for granted here in the US, are uncommon in the British Isles and Europe. 

Glastonbury Tor showed itself first, rising high above the city, shining with the first sun in 2 days reflecting off its stones. The streets of Glastonbury are the same nightmare as all southwest England's streets--unbelievably narrow, with the right of way determined by the largest vehicle or the most aggressive driver. I saw two “street people” here in Glastonbury, one woman with her dog, begging money from her seat on the sidewalk, and on the other side of the street a musician of sorts, an older hippie-looking fellow with a flute and drum, with the typical collection hat open in front of him. These were actually the only street people I saw on this trip, although a well-dressed gentleman at Salisbury Cathedral asked me if I could loan him 80p for the bus. I answered him negatively with my best Yank accent and he hurried away. 
 
The streets of Glastonbury are alive with Pagans of all types. Shops are very revealing in their names, "Man, Myth and Magick," "The Goddess and the Green Man," "The Crystal Star," "The Goddess Temple," and many more. How they make any money at all crowded there together in one crystal mecca is hard to say, but business appears to be good as all the shops were crowded with tourists and locals as well. This is the alternative community's “Shangri-La” in Britain. Classes, seminars, and demonstrations of every kind abound. There are readings of all types, reflexologists, herbalists, an amazing array of “ists” and “isms” for everyone. Vegetarian foods battle with coffeehouses and traditional British pubs. One gustatory highlight is a wonderful bakery aptly named Burns the Bread, reflecting the humour of the establishment’s owners. 

Names like Kathy Jones, Nicholas Mann, John and Caitlin Matthews, and others you will recognize scream out at you as you wander the bookshelves in the 20 or so bookstores. I could spend millions here on books, and I noticed that the books that I picked up were often signed by the authors. There were signs for workshops and presentations held everyday and everywhere. There are all types of Wicca and Pagan "things" that I have never seen in any American stores. But then again, I have never seen this many "New Age" shops in one place. American pagans should sit up and take notice of this wonderful place! At The Crystal Star, I met Antares, a “name” that describes him pretty well. His soft-spoken manner belied his hard sell, but he was friendly and ACTUALLY talked to you, which is something most Brits have yet to learn about American shoppers. We LIKE to be waited on. Everything Antares showed me could be marked down just a little bit more if I showed a spark of interest, but didn't immediately add it to my stack. Antares parted me from £49, and I'm happy that I spent every pence. He also shared his past lives and his feelings that Samhain should be quiet and personal, not a “festival,” but a time to honor the ancestors in sacred silence and ceremony, and that he had been regressed back into his past lives recently, once of which was attending a boy's school in Glastonbury, by an American psychologist who was absolutely “brilliant.” I gave Antares my card and told him to stop by if he was ever stateside, especially at Beltane or Samhain. 

The trip through Glastonbury Abbey was picturesque and beautiful but devoid of anything spiritual for me. I took a ton of beautiful photos but little else. I saved The Chalice Well and Gardens for last, and it was definitely worth the wait. The Chalice Well was an extraordinary place, charming enough to calm the soul, even without the extra benefit of the mystical water from the Chalice Well with its mythical healing properties. The flowers in the gardens, even in November, were incredibly beautiful. The babbling of the red and the white springs cooled the head and soothed the soul. I was lulled into a feeling of happiness and relaxation that held me steady through the harrowing drive home. I waded in the chilly waters of the healing chalice pools, drank the water from the chalice fountain, and filled two water bottles with the precious water. I watched small voles scamper through the amazingly lovely English gardens full of herbs, lavender, roses, morning glories, and larkspurs. The Chalice Well Gardens are an enchanted fairy garden full of beautiful, blooming flowers, even in the cool November air. Inside the gardens, all the rest of the world just fades away. I've had this feeling in other such places, but this was definitely one of the best places I've ever visited.