Very Old Things

Why have they always been here?

Writing about the Two Saints Way eight months after the fact can be challenging. 2025 was a weird year, and even though I spent 179 days in the UK, from the distance of February 2026, it feels like maybe I was only there for a week at a time. Starting the year in Karachi, flitting through…six?…countries over the course of the year, and heading out to a (potential) new home in Albania at the beginning of 2026 has pushed this pilgrimage to the darkest (or cloudiest) recesses of my mind.

Happily, there are photos and Facebook and the Two Saints Way website. So let us pick up where we left off, on the road to Wrexham.

Except we’re not going that way. No. We are going in the opposite direction, away from Wales and deeper into the middle of England.

But first, breakfast. Why? Because today’s walk is actually pretty short, because today’s walk starts with an Uber. Because breakfast is included in my room booking, and, I mean, there’s a full English on the menu. I may never need to order food again.

So anyway. Onward! To…St Mary’s Church!

You know the one.

St. Mary’s.

Okay, fine. One specific St Mary’s Church, in Acton, outside Nantwich. We are taxi-ing to Acton, then walking from there. May is a great time to do a pilgrimage, but yesterday’s walk was long. And mildly confusing. So today’s shorter, with more wheeled transport.

I know, this looks like an extraordinary place.

So I came here because it’s where my route from the Bickerton Poacher rejoins the Two Saints Way. The church is nice enough, a goodly village church. But Nantwich isn’t far away, so this is just a local church. Um…it’s also a church since Anglo-Saxon times (there are cool carved stones inside, but alas, the building was closed when I came by) and is mentioned in the Domesday Book. Which, I mean, wild. I know buildings in this country are often several hundred years old, but this is just a country church. For a thousand years. Or so.

This is a very American take on old things, old buildings, old places, I know. And I’ve lived in Old Places off and on for enough of my life that it doesn’t usually smack me in the face. But this is just St Mary’s Church, Acton. It’s in the middle. The nearest place of any significance (or, you know, bold print on the map) is Nantwich. Which, as I’m sure you’re aware, is not quite the centre of civilisation. So why has it been here for a thousand or so years? What’s the magic?

I know, I know. There’s a river. Or a stream. Clean water, at any rate. I get it. Practical explanations are practical. But like Beeston Castle, the thousand-year-old moorings of St Mary’s Church make me wonder what made people stop here and stay here.

Also, of course, I am rather peripatetic myself, and the idea of just stopping and staying, for centuries, in the middle? Wild.

Anyway. Onward, by foot, to Nantwich.

But first, swans.

My walk today is pretty straightforward. St. Mary’s to St. Mary’s - I’m on my way to St. Mary’s Nantwich, where I shall be on the lookout for an entertaining bench carving in the choir. (Yes, it’s a very old thing, too.) The real, actual, paper guidebook highlights this carving, and I do like amusing things, so let us see!

Today’s walk is actually aiming not for Nantwich, but for Crewe. Do you know what’s great though? Nantwich. As I walked into town, I thought, yes, this is a good spot for a coffee and a wander. AND a browse through several charity shops! Sure, I’m walking along canals, carrying all my worldly goods (well, all I need for this trip, plus a bit more) on my back, but why wouldn’t I stop into several charity shops before making my way to another church to spy out interesting things? There’s always room for another book! Or sweater. Perhaps an evening gown. Sometimes charity shops are kind of boring, like in my town. And sometimes they’re a good time had by all. Like the shops in Nantwich today.

(Spoiler: it wasn’t quite an evening gown, but I did buy a sparkly black dress.)

My taxi this morning allowed me time to wander the very small town centre of Nantwich before heading over to St Mary’s, which I also thought was closed. Gave me time for a coffee at my favourite chain, Caffe Nero. They have the best americano of the major chains. Also I have a stamp card for Caffe Nero, so of course my loyalty is almost unwavering. Finally I could postpone no longer, and I set off across the square to the church, which was not closed, and which captivated. Still very old, though not quite as old as the other St Mary’s down the street, it’s made of the same red stone as the Chester Cathedral, but you can see in the picture it’s a bit more crumbly. And honestly, isn’t that a part of its charm? (And also why is this big church at least 200 years younger a religious site than St Mary’s Acton? Like…. Look, I’ll never understand. I get it, things change, priorities shift, and towns and cities take turns booming and busting. It happens everywhere and it’s pretty easy to see in the newer towns and cities of my home state in the US. Still and all, I’m boggled. I think this is what happens when you think too much about human geography in The Distant Past ™ - without much actual knowledge of human geography in The Distant Past ™ . When I pause to think about these things, I have to sit down. Or, in a church such as St Mary’s (pick one, whichever you like), touch some old walls. I move on more or less all the time, but somehow I expect towns and cities to stay put? Why? Equally though, why not? Why did people spend hundreds of years (broken up by the Black Plague, of course) building a church here? I get that the distance between Acton and Nantwich was longer back before, like, roads and cars and Really Good Shoes and all, but is it really that far that a church site hundreds of years older than this one has diminished while Nantwich expanded? I dunno. Maybe I should read a history book or several.

Anyway, contrary to my expectations, I liked this church. I’m not a big one for red brick when I want limestone or marble or whatever. Just like in Portugal I was rather put off by the relentless grey of the Sé do Porto, I’m initially less-than-thrilled by these red stones. But the light. The symbolic drape of white (this journey took place shortly after Easter), the actual sunlight coming through the windows. As with Chester, I was more than pleasantly surprised. Quite taken, actually.

I continue to be an amateur photographer, but this church was…refreshing. Red brick and all.

But now let’s get to the point. Why are we stopping in Nantwich and scoping out another church on our Two Saints journey?

literal assface

For the historic insults, of course. The seats and misericords(?) in the choir of St Mary’s each contain a different carving (varying in originality depending on the upkeep of the wood), as do the posts on the ends of each row. This one is a 400- or 600-year-old insult, and a one-of-a-kind memorial at that! Imagine being the guy who’s memorialised as the face on the backend of a dodo. So many layers of Eff You here. I mean, how could I not stop?

And honestly, I really think this is why I pilgrimage. Yes, there’s a lot to imagine, explore, understand and experience. There are spiritual levels from the mundanity of walk-sleep-repeat to blessings from tiny nuns in the Spanish countryside, starting your journey with the Pope and wrapping it up at the traditional end of the world. Big cathedrals, tiny chapels, gaudy gold leaf and 3D angels shooting out over an enormous altar, stumps of ancient trees turned into places of remembrance. Also, there’s silliness, inanity, centuries-old jokes and not-so-subtle signs requesting walkers beware the bulls. I’m rarely prepared for the Big Questions of faith and history and humanity (though I love to think on them), and sometimes I’m quite ill-prepared for places to sleep (as we’ll see soon), but really? I’m always ready for the nonsense that is human existence throughout the ages.

More of this.

But while Nantwich is a joy beyond reckoning, still I must carry on walking. (Because the five or so miles from St Mary’s to St Mary’s is just not enough, really.) Our bed tonight lies in Crewe. Or outside Crewe. Near Crewe, at any rate. Have I said Crewe enough?

Crewe.

Let us carry on.