Country diary: A one-man pilgrimage into some familiar hills | Rev Simon Lockett

Golden Valley, Herefordshire: I venture out with just a sleeping bag, as part of a spiritual discipline that pivots on a deep affection for our flora and fauna

As a priest it’s easy to overdose on flat screens, emails and the bureaucracy of parish work. I have a good excuse to get outside though, as it is pilgrimage season. Furthermore, this part of Herefordshire – once the ancient kingdom of Ergyng – was one of the crucibles of Celtic Christianity, and it was in these hills where the students of St Dyfrig, the first Bishop of Ergyng, and other Celtic saints wandered out on their peregrinations.

A common part of pilgrimage season, for me, is to sleep outdoors for the night with just a sleeping bag. And so, late that evening, I walk out across the five parishes I work in across the Golden Valley – Vowchurch, Turnastone, Peterchurch, Tyberton and, ultimately, Madley, where St Dyfrig was born. The sun has long gone down. Within minutes and in a glimmering half light, I come across a hedgehog in the tall meadow grass. I take this as a good, if prickly, omen, since Ergyng translates as “land of hedgehogs”.