This week I went back again to Holywell, to pay another visit to St. Winifred’s Well and shrine: my previous visit was in November, where I had what turned out to be the slightly surreal experience of staying in a pilgrims’ hostel, part of a convent just up the hill.
That I would turn out to be the only guest staying in an establishment capable of catering to dozens I would find out only the next morning at breakfast, seated in the cavernous dining room awaiting the arrival of fellow guests who never came. Odd as this felt at the time, it was only a little later that I remembered hearing footsteps both above and in the corridor outside my room during the previous evening, which now made me feel a little spooked. However, I’m sure the abundance of holy pictures and statues throughout the hostel would have cast their benign influence and ensured me safety, as well as providing a useful reminder of the whereabouts of my room – up the stairs past the life-size St. Winifred, right at the Sacred Heart and past a couple of Popes.
Today will afford no such luxury as a bed for the night, as my return home is care of the national rail system and consequently subject to delays and cancellations as a matter of course rather than exceptions.
There are a few visitors at the well, but it is quiet enough, and a weak sun occasionally breaks through the clouds on this April day. The waters have regained something of their translucency after the downpours of rain brought a strange opaque pea soup appearance during winter, although I can discern a fine mist of silt drifting through the water, and the water in the spring pool still bubbles up greenish blue inside its star-shaped walls.
I was lucky enough to have arrived a short while before one of the strictly regulated times when visitors have access to the pool, watching with interest as the teenage guardian unlocked the chain across the steps, and in what seemed like a moment of daring, I decided to give my troublesome legs the benefit of a short dip in the hopefully healing waters. Trying my hardest to overcome my self consciousness, I took off my shoes and socks and stood on the uppermost step into the pool; cold, certainly, but not unbearably and not painfully. Emboldened by this, I stepped a little further down, wondering whether I should say a few prayers, whether the water itself contained an intrinsic healing quality, or even if my lack of doubt-free belief would negate any possible benefit, when my thoughts were interrupted by a voice behind me.
I turned to see a smiling lady in a plum-coloured swimsuit addressing me.
“I’m going in” she said
“Would you like to come in too?”
I didn’t know what to say – I’d have loved to step fully into the waters, but had no change of clothes or towel – I’d even forgotten to bring a bottle to take away some water with me. The idea of dipping more than a toe (or foot) in the pool had seemed such a remote and unattainable concept that I’d never thought it a possibility. I hesitated, somewhat confused for a moment.
“I have a spare towel you could borrow, and there is a changing room just there” she said.
My new acquaintance, whose name was Anna, had a confident and can-do personality, which immediately banished my previous misgivings. After all, would I ever get this chance again? How foolish I would be to let such an experience slip by through feelings of self consciousness, when this possibility had arrived so unexpectedly out of the blue. I felt encouraged at once.
So it was that in a few short moments, clad in top and leggings only, I stepped down into the water, a soft dusting of sediment under my feet: the sensation of cold was invigorating rather than bone-chilling, and I felt a warm glow of happiness, not to mention a little pride that I had got over my doubts and worries for once.
While Anna swam easily and confidently, I walked around the perimeter of the pool, making sure to stand on St. Beuno’s stone – I think traditionally you are supposed to kneel on it, so I hope standing on it is spiritually acceptable to St. Beuno.
It was a remarkable experience, as if for a short while I had been able to reconnect with a part of me that used to be much more carefree and open to new experiences than I am nowadays. And remarkable also that perhaps someone else, a stranger, had recognized that squashed down fragment of my psyche and encouraged it to briefly blossom.
Whatever the benefits of bathing in these misty green waters from deep within the earths crust, be they physical or spiritual, I can’t help feeling that after all the miracles St. Winifred has been said to perform here, maybe this was another, rather more humble and unexpected one. I don’t really have any expectations of my circulatory issues being suddenly cured, but I do believe today I was granted a gift of opportunity and encouragement, which I am very grateful for.
I left the well after thanking Anna for her company and having a parting hug, made my rather damp, but very happy way back up the hill into town. A remarkable day indeed.