Guy Hayward follows the St Bega’s Way in Cumbria, a pilgrimage dedicated to an Irish Princess turned saint 

St Bega’s Way is a 36-mile pilgrimage through the Lake District, travelling diagonally from the red sandstone coastal cliffs of St Bees to a small inland church dedicated to a seventh-century Irish saint on the shore of Lake Bassenthwaite. It’s a route shaped by sheep, saints and, of course, the land.

The path begins at St Bees Priory, whose thick red sandstone walls have watched over this coastline for nearly a thousand years. The priory is linked to the legend of St Bega, a young Irish princess said to have fled across the sea to avoid an arranged marriage to a Viking chieftain.

Many tales abound, including one in which the boundaries of the priory’s land were contested, and the matter was settled by a miraculous snowfall in which a vast area was covered but not one flake fell on the land claimed by the priory. Another concerns St Bega’s bracelet, received from a “handsome stranger” in a vision, which was kept at the priory, drawing centuries of pilgrims. After the priory was dissolved and plundered, the remains became St Bees Priory Church, and St Bega’s cult endured here for many centuries. Bega sought sanctuary, chastity and freedom, and the Cumbrian coast gave it to her. Her shrine today still has a strong feeling of holiness.

The saint’s story of fierce youthful independence sets the tone for the walk ahead. This is not merely the manicured Lake District of postcards but an older, more pastoral England: working farms, sheepfolds, upland ridges and long stretches where you hear only wind, water and the bleat of Herdwick sheep on the fell.

The Lake District’s identity is bound up with its wool industry, which shaped the region for centuries. The iconic Herdwick sheep – tough, stocky, friendly-looking, very woolly and slow to move for anyone but themselves – are said by some to have been introduced by St Bega’s own community. There’s no firm evidence, but the association persists, and the saint is often shown with a sheep at her feet. After all, wool is basically a miracle material: water-resistant, warm even when wet and very breathable, quiet and natural.

Walking St Bega’s Way slowly, you will notice the textile details of our flocking friends: wool snagged on wire, lanolin scent on the breeze, fleeces drying on pens, the soft sound of hooves on turf, and of course the bleating and bah-ing. The landscape itself feels woven rather than built – threads of river, ridge, field and path, crossing and re-crossing.

Wool wealth once funded Cumbrian churches, barns, and entire villages. Many of the quintessential dry-stone walls that form the landscape patchwork were built to enclose grazing rights, also with sheepfolds and other ancient enclosures. The traditional waist-high ladder stiles that appear at regular intervals exist solely because sheep will neither jump high nor tolerate being herded the long way round.

Why not sing a few traditional Lakeland songs that celebrate sheep and wool along the way? “Tarry Wool”, “Rosebuds in June”, or “Canny aul’ Cumberland”. They are essentially work songs: steady rhythms, practical images, rooted in the farm year. They remind you that the Lake District has always been a place of labour first, and scenic recreation second.

From St Bees the route climbs inland through farmland, then over a series of ridges on Cleator Moor towards Ennerdale. Although the scenery changes constantly, the structure of the landscape is consistent: long glacial valleys running east-west, and the walker moving north-east, cutting across or through them at an angle. This creates a feeling of shifting perspective, as though you are turning pages through different versions of the same story. Make sure you drink from all the wild streams you come across with a water filter bottle such as a LifeStraw or Grayl.

Ennerdale Water is the first major landmark on your pilgrimage, a glacial lake framed by steep, wooded slopes and rewilded land. The path follows the shoreline before rising to the peaks of High Crag and High Stile, then descending to arguably the most beautiful lake in the District: Buttermere – a picturesque, shimmering calm stretch of water backed by ridges that turn gold in late afternoon. This is sheep-farming country at its most characteristic: stone barns, well-kept fields, and Herdwicks. The wool economy here is centuries old; monastic sheepmasters once controlled large parts of the valley, driving their flocks to market along drove tracks that are now public footpaths.

Then you sidle along towards Crummock Water, visiting a waterfall if you feel up to it. On clear days this next section is forgiving, but in mist or damp it becomes serious. The vast boggy ground around Wythop Moss also has a reputation for biting horseflies in summer. They are intense, but keep moving and they usually lose interest – and try to keep your eye on the path as it’s easy to get lost.

The walk gathers a modest sense of arrival by circumambulating Bassenthwaite Lake – maybe also have a dip – before emerging at St Bega’s Church, a modest 12th-century building set back from the lake surrounded by mature trees. Some claim the church stands on the site of Bega’s original hermitage; others say her community lived closer to the coast, near St Bees. Either way, you are on her path.

The church keeps a small book of intentions. Pilgrims write hopes, thanks or simple acknowledgements for their time in this place of power. This practice links you with the many who have walked before, from medieval devotees to modern hikers who weren’t expecting to be moved by a quiet chapel on the edge of a lake. Indeed, it has also inspired poetry by many, including Wordsworth and Tennyson.

Bassenthwaite Lake itself lies broad and tranquil, often with a thin wind across its surface. Viewed from the church, the water seems to stretch into silence. It’s easy to imagine a young woman from Ireland choosing this place as a sanctuary.

St Bega’s Way offers no grand finale, no cathedral; instead you reach a modest church and a mysteriously peaceful lake. The reward is cumulative: a clearer sense of the land’s working history, a deeper understanding of England’s wool culture, and a palpable companionship with a saint whose legend honours independence and faithfulness to one’s inner calling. An inner sturdiness and pure ferocity, accessed by simply walking in her footsteps.

Dr Guy Hayward is Director of the British Pilgrimage Trust, which he co-founded in 2014 to promote the practice of “bring your own beliefs” pilgrimage. He takes guided pilgrimages, leading group singing of nature, folk and sacred songs, and is co-author of Britain’s Pilgrim Places.

This article is from Idler #107.

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