A Canterbury trail: my pilgrimage from the cathedral to the white cliffs of Dover

Stepping into the cool, echoing embrace of the cathedral was an immediate and profound relief. The charming, ancient streets of Canterbury, usually so inviting, had become a crucible under the relentless midsummer sun. The air shimmered with oppressive heat, turning the picturesque lanes into a sweltering gauntlet. Just an hour earlier, I had paused by the bronze statue of Geoffrey Chaucer on High Street, the venerable father of English literature appearing distinctly overdressed in his sculpted robe, cloak, and hat. His metallic hand, outstretched, offered a page inscribed with the immortal opening lines of The Canterbury Tales: “When in April the sweet showers fall… Then people long to go on pilgrimages.” The irony was palpable, almost painful. The bronze itself was hot to the touch, a physical manifestation of the season’s unforgiving grip. A wave of doubt washed over me, a gnawing suspicion that I had grievously miscalculated, embarking on my own modern-day pilgrimage at the peak of summer’s intensity rather than the gentle, rain-kissed promise of spring. Chaucer’s pilgrims, wrapped in April’s fresh embrace, could not have imagined such a fiery trial.

My walk to the cathedral had taken me past the former site of the Royal Fountain, an inn that, in 1939, had offered respite to the renowned travel writer H.V. Morton. Morton, known for his evocative portrayals of Britain, deliberately chose the inn for its promise of quietude, a stark contrast to his perception of Canterbury as a perpetually noisy hub, forever bustling with the ceaseless churn of tourist traffic. His observations, penned just before the outbreak of World War II, resonated with a surprising contemporary relevance. He wrote, with characteristic insight, “And who can deny that the mobility given to masses of people by the cheap motor-car and the motor-bus has revived a wave of secular pilgrimage in Protestant England within the past 20 years and multiplied relics in a way unparalleled since the heyday of the Middle Ages?”

Morton’s words, penned nearly a century ago, could almost be voiced today, as pilgrimage is indeed experiencing a profound and sustained resurgence. It’s not merely a fleeting trend but a deeply rooted movement gaining momentum across the UK and beyond. Recent YouGov research conducted for the British Pilgrimage Trust in 2025 painted a compelling picture: a remarkable 3.7 million British adults have already undertaken a pilgrimage, and nearly one in five are actively considering making one. This data points to a significant cultural shift, prompting the question: What precisely is driving this renewed interest in an ancient practice, often perceived as an anachronism in a hyper-modern world?

To unravel this burgeoning phenomenon, one needs to speak with individuals like Torin Brown, the dedicated Pilgrim Officer at Canterbury Cathedral. Torin stands at the crossroads of history and contemporary spiritual seeking, meeting countless individuals who arrive in the city on foot, some completing a long, arduous journey, others just beginning a challenging walk of their own. "We’ve seen a remarkable resurgence in pilgrimage over the last 10 years, and particularly since the Covid-19 pandemic," Brown explains, his voice reflecting a deep understanding of human motivation. "People are actively looking back to the old ways in their search for meaning, for connection, for something beyond the superficial. What’s particularly fascinating," he continues, "is that even those who explicitly declare themselves atheists or non-religious are engaging in this ancient ritual of walking to sacred spaces. It suggests a universal human need for contemplation, physical challenge, and a tangible journey towards a profound destination, regardless of theological belief."

This modern wave of pilgrimage is multifaceted. Psychologists and sociologists point to several contributing factors: the profound impact of the pandemic, which fostered a collective yearning for nature, simplicity, and a sense of purpose; a growing disillusionment with consumerism and the relentless pace of modern life; and an increasing awareness of mental well-being, where sustained walking in natural environments is proven to reduce stress and foster mindfulness. For many, pilgrimage offers a unique blend of physical exertion, spiritual introspection, and a disconnection from the digital clamour, providing a powerful antidote to contemporary anxieties. It’s a physical manifestation of an inner journey, a quest for self-discovery often undertaken in a communal spirit, echoing the historical camaraderie of the original pilgrims. The British Pilgrimage Trust, an organisation dedicated to restoring and promoting pilgrimage routes, highlights the inclusive nature of this movement, emphasizing that pilgrimage is for everyone, irrespective of faith, age, or background. They promote the idea of "mindful walking" – a journey that engages both body and spirit in a quest for personal growth and understanding.

Canterbury’s pre-eminence as a pilgrimage destination was irrevocably cemented by one of the most dramatic events in medieval English history: the brutal murder of Archbishop Thomas Becket within the cathedral walls in 1170. Becket, a former close friend and Chancellor to King Henry II, had fallen out with the monarch over the rights and privileges of the Church. His assassination by four of the King’s knights, who misinterpreted a frustrated outburst from Henry, sent shockwaves across Europe. Almost immediately, Becket was venerated as a martyr, and his speedy canonisation to sainthood by Pope Alexander III in 1173 transformed Canterbury Cathedral into one of the most significant pilgrimage sites in Christendom. His shrine, initially humble but later elaborated into a dazzling spectacle of gold and jewels, became an irresistible magnet, drawing pilgrims from every corner of Europe, seeking miraculous cures, spiritual solace, or simply to pay homage to a man who died for his convictions.

Today, echoes of this rich history resonate through a network of revived and meticulously waymarked routes leading to Canterbury. Among the most celebrated is the Pilgrims’ Way, tracing ancient tracks from Winchester, the former capital of Anglo-Saxon England, through the rolling hills of Surrey and Kent. Another significant path is the Old Way from Southampton, a route being actively re-established and promoted, connecting coastal pilgrims to the heart of Kent. The Augustine Camino, originating in Rochester, honours St. Augustine of Canterbury, who arrived in Kent in 597 AD to re-establish Christianity in England, making Canterbury the undisputed mother church of the Anglican Communion. This commitment to historical continuity was vividly demonstrated recently when Sarah Mullally, the new Archbishop of Canterbury, undertook a six-day pilgrimage, walking from St Paul’s Cathedral in London to Canterbury for her installation in March this year, symbolically linking the nation’s spiritual and secular capitals.

My own contemporary pilgrimage was to follow the English leg of the Via Francigena, a formidable ancient road that historically linked Canterbury all the way to Rome, the spiritual heart of Western Christendom. This initial segment would take me approximately 20 miles to Dover, the gateway to continental Europe. My preparations were both practical and steeped in tradition: an Ordnance Survey map for navigation, the invaluable Via Francigena app on my phone, and a pristine pilgrim passport. This passport, a modern iteration of the medieval credencial, would serve as proof of my journey, collecting stamps at each significant waypoint. Torin Brown, with a warm smile, personally stamped my passport at the cathedral, his words resonating with the weight of centuries: "You are now part of this wonderful history and tradition of pilgrimage." With this official blessing, the ancient journey truly began, albeit with a day of exploration remaining before