Side Quests: St Michael’s Mount

Over breakfast the morning after my fall at The Lizard, Paul, another Keigwyn House Guest, asked me what I was planning to do that day. I’d checked off all my Adamsian sites the day before, so I had time for a side quest. Cornwall was full of awesome things and I assumed I’d pick something when I arrived…but now I had an injury.

“My vague plan was to do more hiking at the Lizard…but that doesn’t seem like a good idea now. I kind of wanted to see St. Michael’s Mount, but I don’t know if my ankle will be up for it. And, I haven’t researched any ways to get there.” I was feeling down. It sucks to lose a sightseeing day due to injury.

“We are all going to St. Michael’s for low tide. If you’d like to join our meditation retreat for the morning, I can give you a ride.”

My ankle looked bruised, but I had a soft brace that supported it and still fit back into my boot. I figured that if it was hurting too much to climb the hill, I could always get myself back to Keigwyn House in a taxi. I relegated trepidations about strangers with convenient vans to the rubbish bin of my brain and said yes.

The opportunity seemed too good to be true, but in fact, it turned out to be precisely as advertised. I spent the next few hours in a large basement below the beautiful Union Hotel. The underground space felt secret and cozy. It had been filled with a mighty circle of blankets, meditation cushions, and chairs for about 30 Kriya Yoga practitioners. They had all traveled to Cornwall for the eclipse, the ultra-low tide, and a weekend spiritual retreat.

After the meditation, I was able to sneak upstairs into the assembly rooms:

Meditation and Kriya Yoga included a wonderful guided visualization. I used the time to focus on healing energy for my ankle. Then I got back into Paul’s van with another pilgrim, and we headed along the coast for Marazion.

St. Michael’s Mount rose into view after a few minutes’ winding drive along the coast. Crowned by its crenelated stone castle, the granite hill evokes an imposing mysticism. Its status as a tidal island was the only tenuous connection I ascribed to Douglas Adams’s and Mostly Harmless:

“We all like to congregate,” [The Prophet] went on, “at boundary conditions.”

“Really?” said Arthur.

“Where land meets water. Where earth meets air. Where body meets mind. Where space meets time. We like to be on one side, and look at the other.”

The etymology of its name and some other evidence suggest the mount may have been surrounded by trees in BC times.

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There’s also conjecture that the mount was the home of a giant and the origin of the Jack and the Beanstalk fairytale.

If you’re someone who loves history, geology, and fantasy (Me! Me!), all of this makes for an incredibly fun afternoon’s hike.

The Kriya practitioners scheduled their day to visit at low tide–the only time the causeway, made of granite setts, allows visitors to walk straight up to the mount. Once there, we formed up again in a slightly smaller circle to access the nearby ley lines. All together we envisioned a ritual benediction of love and peace on earth.

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Not truly being one of the group, I declined the offer to join their celebratory potluck. Instead, I ate a delicious Cornish Pasty at the island restaurant, visited the gift shop, and decided my ankle felt plenty well enough to attempt to mount the mount.

The path and stone stairs winding up and around the blooming gardens were calm and silent. I was alone in my climb, with plenty of time to take notice of the signs. The Pilgrim’s Steps were an opportunity to reflect that…well, I was on a pilgrimage. Just of my own making. Even though I was not paying my respects to St. Michael, I still deeply enjoyed the mystique of this rocky hill, considered holy for hundreds of years.

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Hiking slowly and steadily, my ankle held up. I stopped frequently to take photos and enjoy the shifting viewpoints as I rose higher and higher. The pathway remained clear and either well maintained, or well worn, by centuries of my fellow pilgrims. The low, mossy turf I associate only with England covered every surface it possibly could. And then, SURPRISE! Pine trees! Growing at the outskirts of the island.

The cultivated wilderness led me upward toward where the grey granite met the blue Cornish sky. One of those lovely liminal spaces Douglas Adams must have cherished too–at least enough to put words about them into the mouth of a wise prophet from the planet Hawalius.

Next week, I’ll share more pictures of the meticulously maintained interior.