A festival every six weeks – that’s the way the ancestors celebrated the wheel of life and the seasons. Guy Hayward on why we should revive those traditions with a walk for all seasons

For most of us Christmas is the crown of the year, the final burst of feasting before the long nights start to shorten. But what if we widened the lens a little, and remembered Christmas not as a stand-alone festivity but as part of a whole cycle of seasonal festivals that have, for centuries and millennia, given rhythm to the year?

This past year I’ve been writing about these festivals as they appear along the turning wheel of time. Each one offers a different kind of pilgrimage, a different way of walking with the land and with ourselves. Here, then, is a pilgrim’s calendar from Imbolc in February through to Michaelmas in September and All Hallows in November, ending with Christmas.

Imbolc: the Start of the Start of Spring
We begin in February, at Imbolc, when snowdrops pop up and wellsprings flow. Imbolc is about promise: the first inklings of light after the dark of January, the lambing of ewes, St Bride’s Day. A pilgrimage to any holy well is particularly fitting, maybe Swallowhead Springs in Avebury, St Helen’s Spring in Hastings, or St Anthony’s Well in the Forest of Dean, where water has been venerated for centuries. Carry a sprig of snowdrop in your pocket as you walk.

Spring Equinox: Balance and Renewal
By March, light and dark are equal. The Spring Equinox is about a poised tipping-point. Pilgrimage at this time can mirror that balance, walking between two equal poles, whether literally (two hills, two villages) or inwardly, between past and future. A favourite is the St Michael Line, that mythical ley stretching from Cornwall to Norfolk, the famous weigher of the balance of souls.

Beltane, May Day and Rogationtide: Blessing the Bounds
Come May, there are maypoles, May Kings and Queens, Jacks in the Green and Obby Osses. Less known is the fact that the Church long ago instituted Rogation Days, when villagers would “beat the bounds” of their parish, walking in procession to the edges of their land and praying for its fertility. It was part ritual, part communal memory, part good excuse for a walk. At the British Pilgrimage Trust we revived this tradition with our Rogation Sunday campaign. It remains a wonderful excuse to make pilgrimage entirely local: simply walk the perimeter of where you live. You may be surprised how boundary lines trace forgotten footpaths, streams and hedgerows, linking the whole parish and creating belonging.

Summer Solstice: the Longest Day
June brings the great pivot of the year: the Summer Solstice, when the sun seems to pause at its zenith before beginning its slow decline. It’s a festival of fire and light, of fullness and ripeness, of standing still in the very height of things. Pilgrimage at midsummer has always been drawn to the great circles of Stonehenge, Avebury and Callanish, where sunrise aligns with ancient stones in a drama that has played for millennia. But it can be as simple as walking to the highest hill near you, lighting a small fire, and watching the sun dip late and rise early.

Lughnasadh: the First Fruits
August brings Lughnasadh (or Lammas), the ancient Celtic festival of first harvest. This is the time for bread baked from new grain, for gathering berries on hedgerow walks, for songs of John Barleycorn, the spirit of corn who must die so we might live. Pilgrimage at Lughnasadh is earthy and practical, when you can bring a loaf, break it with your companions, and share it under an oak. Walk routes of gratitude that honour farming landscapes, such as the Ridgeway in Oxfordshire or the Beverley Minster pilgrimage route through the Yorkshire Wolds.

Mabon: Autumn Equinox
By late September, the balance returns at Mabon, the Autumn Equinox. Now the scales tip the other way: day gives way to night, light to dark. This festival is about harvest’s completion and the descent into winter. Pilgrimage here becomes more reflective in tone. The River Dart in Devon, or the Tweed in Scotland, are good companions at this time, reminding us that the flow continues regardless.

Michaelmas: the Pilgrimage of Angels
Just after Mabon comes Michaelmas, on 29 September, honouring St Michael the archangel. He is often pictured weighing souls, or slaying dragons, or standing as cosmic balancer. Michaelmas was once the great quarter-day of the rural calendar, when rents were due and hiring fairs (also known as mop fairs) were held, where labourers secured employment for the coming year. Today it’s a chance to pilgrimage to the high places, the St Michael churches that stud hills and tors across Britain, such as Brentor in Devon, St Michael’s Mount in Cornwall, Burrow Mump in Somerset and Glastonbury Tor’s St Michael’s Tower. Heaven meets earth in these places.

All Hallows: Ancestors Remembered
By November we meet the Days of the Dead: All Hallows, All Saints, All Souls. It’s the season of thinning veils, when ancestors and departed loved ones are thought as being nearer than usual. Walk to a local graveyard, light a candle, do the old things we have always done. The Irish and Mexican traditions show us how feasting and merriment are part of honouring too. In Britain, a walk to an ancient yew tree can hold this mood, a reminder that death and life are entangled.

Christmas: Light Returns
And so finally to Christmas. The darkest days of December hold within them the brightest festival of all: Winter Solstice and the promise of ever-brighter days, Christ’s birth, the evergreen tree, the feast that promises renewal. To pilgrimage at Christmas might mean a carol walk from church to church, or a simple tramp across frosted fields with friends, ending in mulled wine by the fire. Many of you will do this anyway, and that’s why I want to awaken the other festivals again, as they occur roughly every six weeks – and everyone needs a festival roughly every six weeks, surely?

What all these festivals teach us is that the year itself is a path, and each station is a chance for pilgrimage and feasting. Walk at Imbolc with hope, at Equinox with balance, at Rogation with blessing, at Lughnasadh with gratitude, at Mabon with reflection, at Michaelmas with courage, at All Hallows with remembrance, and at Christmas with joy.

To walk thus is to live in rhythm with the land and sky, and to remember that every season offers a different portal into mystery and belonging. Christmas may be the crown now, but the jewels of the year glimmer all around the wheel, if only we are open to their place in our hearts.

Guy Hayward is the Director and Cofounder of The British Pilgrimage Trust, which promotes pilgrimage routes and low-cost pilgrim accommodation across Britain.

This article is from Idler #106.

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