The Top 10 Reasons to Walk the Whithorn Way Next Time You’re Thinking Camino

full Scottish breakfast

#1.  Scottish breakfasts

Haste Ye Back

#2   if you speak English, they speak the same language. Sort of.

Dunure Castle

The Black Vault in Dunure Castle

#3   place names – like the Waters of Luce – that sound like they come from The Princess Bride

Tatty Neeps and Haggis

‘tatties and ‘neeps (and haggis)

#4   ‘tatties and ‘neeps

Miles of Coastline Ken

photo: Ken Wilson

#5   miles and miles of coastal paths

No need to fight for space

#6   no need to fight for space on the trail or in albergues

Scones Jam Ken

scones and jam (for haggis, see above!)

#7   haggis is less disgusting than pulpo

St Ninian

stained glass of St Ninian at Glasgow Cathedral

#8   a saint who may have known the real King Arthur and St Patrick

Drumtroddan Standing Stones

Drumtroddan Standing Stones

#9   currags, castles, cairns, and caves (and neolithic standing stones)

Cask Ales

#10   real Scottish ales

Kissing Gate

And lots more: kissing-gates on the edges of cliffs, Norse-Scots stone crosses, Stone crossa destination where on a clear day you can see Ireland, England, and the Isle of Man, Arts & Crafts art and architecture, Mackintosh at the Willow menuscones with jam, the moors, you’re more likely to be soaked in cold rain than baked by unending heat, Burns cottage slogan

Christine walking through forest RainRobbie Burns, and…I didn’t even mention A.D. Rattray’s Whiskey Experience in Kirkoswald!

Arriving (Sort of…)

St Ninian Stained Glass from WhithornAt the church in the ruins of Whithorn Abbey, no one was there to greet us. But the doors were open. Inside was Ninian, the fifth century saint, in stained glass, and a desk of pilgrim stuff. “Welcome to all pilgrims” said a little sign. “Please accept our certificate.” I wasn’t going to take one. We walked nine miles today, and overall already quite a distance. However I didn’t come as a pilgrim, but as a researcher and walker. Ken and Christine walking in sunChristine and Ken, despite being not as officially religious as me, picked up a copy,  filled it out, and got me to sign on with them. That made it feel somehow like a group recognition. certificate of pilgrimageWas the certificate the sign of our “arrival” at the end of the pilgrimage? Not really: tomorrow we go to St Ninian’s Cave, where stone fragments of fifth and sixth century altar pieces have been found. Maybe it’s there. From the cave we walk our final 11 miles around the coast to the Isle of Whithorn. The destination there is really the Steam Packet Inn, a pub overlooking the harbour. Not especially religious, but tasty.

We did find someone at the Whithorn Centre, on main street in Whithorn, where pedestrians have to watch not only for cars, but also for tractors pulling hay-wagons to the huge feedlots bordering town. There we had tea and coffee-cake and met Julia Muir Watt, author of “Walk the Whithorn Way,” a guidebook complete with maps we probably could have used en route here. They had a display about Ninian and also of the history – Celtic, Anglo-Saxon, Norse, and Scottish – of this area. But was the gift shop our destination? No. We trekked back to the small museum, where we met a warm and informative guide who walked me around the space, showing me the many early stones that have been recovered from Ninian’s Cave, chapel and the Abbey. stone cross knotsThe endless looping stonework knots are reminiscent of Ireland and of Lindisfarne, brought to Whithorn in part by Norse Christians out of Ireland. From the back of the museum I walked into the crypt where a line of Bishops were buried, and finally into the grotto that once held St Ninian’s bones. I admit: this felt like more of a destination than anywhere else. It felt like a holy place. The fact that whatever bones were there were lost during the Reformation doesn’t bother me much. 21st century western pilgrims aren’t fixated on a saint’s body, but more on their own. And mine, especially my ankles, have felt the distance. Matthew at St Ninian's Tomb

We stumbled across other holy stones on our way here. The OS map indicated “standing stones” just off the path and we found the Drumtroddan Standing Stones, only one of which is still standing, which may date back anywhere from 2-5,000 years, long before even St Ninian.  Drumtrodden Standing StonesOn the subject of Ninian: I’ve long had a semi-teasing argument going with Sara Terreault, who teaches pilgrimage and Insular (Celtic) Christianity, that St Ninian never even existed, but was a made-up figure. Not that I held that firmly, but I knew it was a good way to tease her. I will have to come up with something else. The presence of the Latinus Stone, fifth century stonewith a name in both Latin and the local Celtic language indicates Christianity at Whithorn by about 450 CE. Although there may be little hard evidence of Ninian, there is so much circumstantial reference, in addition to Bede’s account, that one has to accept that a late Roman-age Briton helped introduce official Christianity to what is now Scotland. Even the cab driver who brought us home tonight knew the whole story and could provide the arguments, in addition to other interesting tidbits. As his BMW sped by within inches of stone walls he pointed to them and told us that French Prisoners of War from Napoleon were forced to build them for the Scots. flowers on way to WhithornWhen we first arrived, this dog, who lives at our B&B,  couldn’t wait to find out who the visitors were. dog looking through cat door

Our B&B is the gracious Mansfield House, the former parsonage of this Whithorn Church, out of service since 1925, which has been repurposed in a way that will definitely NOT make it a shrine, except perhaps for kitsch: Whithorn Church Gas Station

I’m thankful I have one last day of walking with Christine and Ken. We’ve covered a lot of miles together, both here and in Saskatchewan. For more on today, and completely different comments and pictures, see Ken’s blog at https://readingandwalking.wordpress.com/2019/07/20/whithorn-way-day-five-arrival/

Ken and Matthew at harbour