A network of old footpaths, mapped by a local vicar to form a new long-distance trail, is dotted with reminders of a spiritual past
On the strand at Downderry, my guidebook suggests, I should pick up a pebble. “Choose one to mark the start of your journey,” it counsels. I settle on a charcoal-coloured stone featuring lots of vaguely psychedelic parallel pink lines. Some diverge and thicken as others separate, going solo. It makes me think first of a network of paths – and then of how lives are spent sometimes in solitude, sometimes surrounded by loved ones.