The author began their pilgrimage at Canterbury Cathedral for Evensong, describing the beauty of the choristers' singing and the honey-coloured stone of the quire. The heatwave made the old city unbearable, with a statue of Chaucer appearing overdressed. The bronze was hot to the touch, and the author questioned starting a midsummer pilgrimage.
Pilgrimage's Modern Resurgence
Passing the former site of the Royal Fountain, where travel writer HV Morton stayed in 1939, the author recalled Morton's observation that motor cars revived secular pilgrimage. According to YouGov research for the British Pilgrimage Trust in 2025, 3.7 million British adults have made a pilgrimage, and almost one in five are considering one. Torin Brown, pilgrim officer at the cathedral, noted a resurgence in the last 10 years, especially since Covid, with atheists engaging in walking to sacred spaces.
Canterbury's popularity as a pilgrimage site was accelerated by the murder of Archbishop Thomas Becket in 1170 and his canonisation. Historic routes include the Pilgrims' Way from Winchester, the Old Way from Southampton, and the Augustine Camino from Rochester. Archbishop Sarah Mullally walked from St Paul's Cathedral in March 2025. The author planned to walk the English leg of the Via Francigena to Dover, about 20 miles, with an OS map, the app, and a pilgrim passport stamped by Torin.
Exploring the Cathedral
Before leaving, the author explored the cathedral while the organ was being tuned, creating eerie drones. In the nave, a volunteer cleaner named Cilla, a Holy Duster for 47 years, dusted memorials and tombs, including the effigy of Sir John Boys. She described the volunteer cleaners as the lowest in the cathedral hierarchy, but said it suited her as she got older.
The Walk to Dover
Departing at first light to beat the heat, the author followed the Via Francigena waymarked with a pilgrim carrying a staff, also part of the North Downs Way. Mist lay in fields, and the author reached Shepherdswell by 8am, refilling water from a church tap. Despite considering stopping and taking the train, the author pressed on for another 10 miles, but soon regretted it as the sun turned vicious. The earth was hard and cracked, flint nodules lay around, and the author felt the walk was more like an act of atonement, reminiscent of Henry II's penance for Becket's murder.
Passing gardens, people watering roses said good morning, but the author struggled with the heat. A man floating in his pool seemed happy as a hippo, but the author was too reserved to ask to join.
Arrival at the White Cliffs
Arriving in Dover at midday, the author got the pilgrim passport stamped at the museum. Instead of continuing to Calais, the author sought the White Cliffs, passing signs for Welcome to England and Dame Vera Lynn Way. The cliffs were bright and beautiful, with the Channel a blue haze and France a shadow. The author hoped to explore European cathedrals soon, but for now, the quest was for ice-cream and blister plasters.
