CLIMBING GLASTONBURY TOR and other mystical places in Somerset

By Stephanie Cowell

The first day I came to Glastonbury I climbed the Tor; I opened the gate and a short way along the gently ascending muddy path, found ten enormous cows in my way. They moved politely aside, and I continued upward. I climbed and climbed, stopping now and then to sit on the most welcome benches. Below me the green fields of Somerset receded. My heart beat faster, not only for the climb, but because I was ascending to a holy place.

Tor is a local word of Celtic origin meaning rock outcropping or hill.  The Glastonbury Tor is 514 feet high and when you finally approach the top you find the ruins of St. Michael’s Church. Monks have worshiped here since the fifth century and this present church survived until the Dissolution of the Monasteries in 1539 when the last Abbot of Glastonbury, the gentle and good old Richard Whiting, was hanged, drawn and quartered along with two of his monks. 

From all sides the country of Somerset rolled away so far below me. The wind rushed about the ruins; I was almost unnerved by their ferocity.

I was almost entirely alone on the Tor that day.  

 

My husband and I had come to Glastonbury where he was taking a spiritual class, so when he was in his training I had hours to wander about. I was drawn the second day to walk down to the ruins of Glastonbury Abbey where I sat for hours, sensing the active spiritual and intellectual life which had been here in 1539. 

The library was one of the great glories of its time and less than 40 of its books have ever been found. Scholar James Carley tells us that earliest identified surviving manuscripts from Glastonbury Abbey date from the ninth and tenth centuries, but there are reliable post-Conquest traditions claiming that valuable books were found at the monastery as early as the reign of Ine, king of the West Saxons (688–726).

a book from Glastonbury circa 960 now in Bodleian Library

When I could tear myself away I walked down a quiet road to the small entrance to the Glastonbury gardens. This contains the Chalice Well which marks the site where Joseph of Arimathea is said to have placed the chalice that had caught the drops of Christ's blood at the Crucifixion. Again the peace of the whole area and the little town surrounded me. 

The third day was marked for a special spiritual initiation ceremony for the class at Stonehenge. We arrived after the gates were closed to visitors and were allowed within the ropes which prevented people from approaching and chipping off bits of the stones as souvenirs as they had done in the past. 

The stones, still warm from the sun, felt alive under my hand and very ancient. I stood a little to the side of the group during the spiritual initiation and time seemed to stop for me. My breath seemed to stop. I drifted between worlds.

We all piled back in a tour bus to take us back to Glastonbury. Darkness was falling as we approached the little town. “The Tor!” a woman called. Darkened against the setting sun, the remains of the St. Michael’s Tower stood out against the sky, waiting for us.

  “But I never climbed the Tor,” my husband said as we took a bus back towards London. 

So a few years after, we returned from America once more. We walked the path from town to the Tor entrance and opened the gate. Up we climbed as the fields and houses of Somerset spread below us. Strangely my husband was not tired at all but kept steadily on. We stood together at the top in the clean winds and he photographed the broken Tower. We could barely tear ourselves away.

I do not know when I’ll return to Glastonbury; I do miss it. I have not begun to deeply study all its mysteries. There are many books about it. But when I close my eyes and believe myself standing on top of the Tor again in the wind, I feel the same entire peace. It is inside me whenever I want it. It’s waiting for you, too.

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Historical novelist Stephanie Cowell writes about English history and historic people in the arts. She is the author of Nicholas Cooke, The Physician of London, The Players: a novel of the young Shakespeare, Marrying Mozart (which debuted as an opera/play in NYC this past December) and Claude & Camille: a novel of Monet. She is the recipient of the American Book Award. Her work has been translated into nine languages. Her website is http://www.stephaniecowell.com