Going to Church

 

We are not a very religious crew, but that doesn't stop us from appreciating fine architecture when we see it. Churches, whether they be cathedrals or little country chapels, mosques or temples, are usually an opportunity to observe and gain an insight into the local people and culture. Though we might not attend services, we rarely miss a chance to wander around inside to take in the ornate grandeur or the quiet, serene simplicity that exists there.

In Peru, the cathedral in Arequipa was extraordinarily beautiful. In Lima, we visited the catacombs underneath the cathedral which were quite eerie. They've since collapsed, probably leaving those interred a bit more at peace.

The blue domes of the cathedral in Cuenca, Ecuador could be seen from miles away and visually enticed us into exploring the church.

The elaborate, decorative detail of some of the Argentinian cathedrals we saw were almost overwhelming at times.

Australia has its share of cathedrals as well. St. Mary's Cathedral in Sydney, for instance, was pretty impressive.

Even in the more isolated areas of the South Pacific like the Gambiers, there were several churches and even a cathedral. In this case, the cathedral was built with the blood and sweat of forced labor by an overzealous, psychotic missionary. It lies in disrepair now, declared unsafe with little hope of restoration.

Sometimes it's not the church itself that intrigues us, but the architectural elements employed in its building like arches, pinnacles, gargoyles and balconies.

Stained glass windows are always eye catchers like these at St. David's in Hobart, Tasmania.

Ornate altars, columns and ceilings catch our attention.

Have you ever read Sarum by Edward Rutherford? It's an historical novel that traces the building of the Salisbury Cathedral in England through the eyes of generations of families who were involved in building it and its fascinating.

Probably more to our liking, however, are the tiny country churches and chapels that we've seen in rural locations throughout the world. In these places, you can rest your spirit perhaps and contemplate life a bit more easily than the massive, echoing halls of the more grand structures.

The simple grace of 200-year-old white, clapboard Unitarian and Congregational churches on the commons area of little New England villages is always appealing.

Let's go back to that first sentence. “We're not a very religious crew.” That's not quite true. Gazing out at a star-filled sky or over a calm, blue ocean fills the soul. And then, of course, it depends on the weather. I remember a few times in the middle of Force 10 storms that I chatted quite incessantly with the guy upstairs in an attempt to get him to fix the weather. So I guess I'd say we're more situational, rainy day believers.

St. David's Bells

The bells were pealing joyfully at St. David's Cathedral. We were strolling around town, rather aimlessly, truth be told. We thought perhaps a wedding ceremony had just concluded. The bells stopped, then started up once again. The sound reverberated throughout the city. It wasn't just the marking of the hour or half hour. Curiosity got the better of us. We wandered over and noticed a hand-lettered sign outside of the cathedral: “Bell Tower Open Today”. Hmm...what's going on here? We ventured inside and sure enough, just inside the entrance, a door opened to a spiral staircase, leading up, up, up. Why not?

We heard a female voice somewhere up the spiral inviting us. “Come on up to see the bellringers.” Some 35 steps later, we were welcomed into a rather large chamber where eight people were resolutely pulling on bell ropes, intent on their tasks. Some were working up a sweat. Other visitors, like us, were circled around them and watching. The bells stopped and we had the chance to ask questions. I was interested in how many steps there were in the bell tower (152), how often they opened the bell tower (only once or twice a year) , how do you get to be a bellringer and if we could climb yet higher to the top of the bell tower. David asked about the knots tidying up the bell ropes. It's that pink/blue mindset at work again.

Yes, we could climb further up the tower to watch the bells tolling...another 82 steps. A volunteer handed us our padded earmuffs … the sound of the bells would knock us out of our socks otherwise. We queued up behind a few other courageous souls and followed the leader up the narrow, circular stairwell. The bells were enclosed behind a glass door and we stopped for a moment and watched them rock back and forth responding to the bellringers' tugs below.

Climbing the next 35 concrete, dimly-lit steps to the top of the bell tower was a monumental task for me. Not because of the energy exerted, but rather the confined, tight space, skinny, irregular steps, lack of railing and the fear of losing my balance and toppling down. David had my rear...and I mean that literally. There was no opportunity for pictures. I clung to the wall, sometimes with a hand on the third or fourth step above me, to maintain my balance … and composure.

It was worth the effort and anxiety. The views from the top were 360º stupendous. The city spread like a fine table before us. The harbor sparkled in the brilliant sunshine. We couldn't quite make out Cups on the pier; a building occluded our view. We could feel the tower sway in the wind and it was a bit unsettling.

The steep descent was worse than the climbing. Down and around, down and around, I carefully planted my feet with each step to avoid a tumble. It seemed darker and eerie. We reached the enclosed bells...35 down, 82 steps left to the bellringers' chamber. It seemed to take forever...one step at a time, one step at a time. We turned in our earmuffs. 35 more steps and we were back down to terra firma.

When we got back to the boat, David checked Ashley's Book of Knots. Sure enough on page 34, there's a bellringer's knot used expressly to keep the long rope off the belfry floor. Who would have thunk it?