Stepping Westward

A misty morning at Trefdraeth/Newport but with the tide low enough for these ancient stepping stones to be visible. They cross the marshy glacial valley of the Afon Nyfer/River Nevern and it's said they were part of the pilgrims' route to the holy shrine of St David, some twenty miles away.

In the 12th century a papal decree announced that two pilgrimages to St David's equalled one to Rome, and three were worthy of a trip to Jerusalem. For devout inhabitants of the British Isles this must have represented something of a bargain offer: no daunting trek across the Alps or hazardous voyage in the pirate-infested waters of the Mediterranean, no risk of heatstroke and gippy tummy from foreign menus, no threat from fierce Mohammedans - just Welsh rain, mist and mud (and wild pagans) to contend with.

The idea may be fanciful. Other accounts suggest that the bridge (which lies behind me as I take the picture) was removed to protect the town from an epidemic in the 17th century. When the tide covered the stepping stones a local family operated a ferry service.

The estuary is a haunt of water birds and waders. It's often possible to see several herons standing like sentries along the edge of the reedbed but there were none today.

On his travels in Scotland William Wordsworth was greeted by a woman who inquired if he was 'Stepping Westward?'

The dewy ground was dark and cold;
Behind, all gloomy to behold;
And stepping westward seemed to be
A kind of heavenly destiny:
I liked the greeting; 't was a sound
Of something without place or bound;
And seemed to give me spiritual right
To travel through that region bright.