While most delegates deliberate about whether to drive, fly or catch the train to the Cop26 summit in Glasgow, a dozen or so pilgrims have just spent the past 55 days getting there on foot from London. Members of the female-run faith group Camino to Cop26 have been walking a 500-mile route since early September.
Theirs is just one of a number of pilgrimages reaching Glasgow this weekend, with about 250 individuals expected, some coming from as far as Poland and Germany – one group has walked more than 1,000 miles from Sweden. Extinction Rebellion Scotland says their arrival will mark the “opening ceremony” for nonviolent protests planned in the Scottish city and around the world during the UN climate talks.
From 18-year-old students to 74-year-old grandmothers, members of Camino to Cop26 – which is part of Extinction Rebellion – have been raising awareness about the climate and ecological crisis along the way. On some days they had 70 people walking with them. The group spent nights sleeping on the floors of churches, village halls and community centres, raising £17,000 to cover their costs, with any additional money going to support the work of climate activists in developing countries.
Wandering monk-like from place to place and surviving off the hospitality of local people is an ancient activity – in this case with a modern spin. The group’s support vehicle was an electric van packed full of lentils and rice, and along the way they joined samba players under Birmingham’s Spaghetti Junction, waved flags above the M6, and found spots for wild swimming. They also consumed a lot of vegan dinners.
There were the same old aches and pains – blisters, dodgy knees, achilles heel injuries – as well as the challenge of spending eight weeks with a group of people they had never met before. In the 14th century’s Canterbury Tales, Chaucer wrote about pilgrims telling stories to entertain one another along the way, and little has changed on that front. Belting out songs and poetry was encouraged, and there was even an impromptu barn dance thanks to one pilgrim who was good enough to carry a fiddle and bagpipes.
They were only able to wash about once a week. “I think I’m quite smelly at this point,” says Steph Alderton, 26, who is a few days from Glasgow when I speak to the group. She has everything in a 10kg rucksack: one change of clothes, a few pairs of extra socks, a sleeping bag, sleeping mat, book, and packet of peanuts – standard packing. “You have to let go of your daily shower. The older people in the group say that was normal when they were young.”
Participants have a spectrum of beliefs, from devout Jews, Christians and Buddhists to committed atheists, like Alderton, who left her job as a career adviser at a school in Birmingham in June to put more energy into climate activism. The notion of “intention” is what makes a walk a pilgrimage, and for Steph it was not about reflecting on God, but learning about the UK’s people and wildlife.
“It makes me feel so sad to know so many animals are going extinct. That’s what drew me into the climate crisis, and walking the length of the country seemed like a good way to reflect on that connection with wildlife,” says Alderton, who liked the outreach side of it and found speaking to people in their own communities made it easier to connect. “Everyone needs one issue that is their gateway into activism and for many people that will be a local issue which leads them on to thinking about things more generally.”
The Rev Helen Burnett, vicar of St Peter and St Paul’s Church in Chaldon, Surrey, helped organise the pilgrimage. As a Christian, she says she believes she must act now to fulfil her calling to “love thy neighbour” and care for vulnerable people. Inadvertently channelling Forrest Gump, Burnett led a Sunday service at her parish and then just kept walking. She was able to join the pilgrims for about half the time, yo-yoing up and down so she could spend the other half fulfilling duties in her parish.
She was moved to walk because she believes more and more people are discovering God is in nature, not a building: “So many people, when you ask when they feel most connected to God will say ‘on top of a mountain’ or ‘when I’m in a garden’, and I think that’s really powerful. That was part of the Celtic tradition and the history of the church is we’ve sort of domesticated God and popped him inside a nice, sanitised box, but people find God in the outside world.” A few of her parishioners joined her on the walk.