It’s dawn when we step off the train at Lelant, a village tucked into a bay near St Ives. The early morning light is still intensifying as the distinctive, repetitive shrill of a song thrush wakes this sleepy corner of west Cornwall.
I’m in Cornwall with a friend to walk a pilgrim path – the St Michael’s Way from Lelant to St Michael’s Mount – that I first trod a few years ago. Back then, I was alone, fresh out of a toxic relationship, and trying to piece together my life against a backdrop of resurfacing trauma. Yet I hadn’t arrived feeling melancholic, because I had discovered, some time ago, the power of these ancient trails. And I say that as someone who is not in any way religious.
