They say that an army marches on its stomach and I think the same must be true of pilgrims.

I was one of the perpetual pilgrims on the national Pilgrimage of Hope to Nottingham and the feast we were given on our first night rather set the scene for what was to come. We’d reached the shrine of Our Lady of Willesdon in North London, having been sent on our way in the morning from St Geroge’s Cathedral in Southwark with an early Mass followed by breakfast prepared by members of the CAFOD team. After setting out our sleeping bags in the hall and a mass for us in the church, some of the ladies of the parish sat us down and fed us with two types of Caribbean chicken (exquisite), Nigerian rice (equally exquisite), two types of roast potato, plus pasta and a variety of veg; followed by cakes AND singing and dancing led by one of the women. And in the morning, a Sri Lankan parishioner served us a lovely, and very healthy, breakfast, to keep us going to South Ruislip.

The church of St Gregory was our second night stopping place and Fr. Marco had organised for us quiches with a range of tasty hams, cheeses and bread: all accompanied by three bottles of eminently drinkable wine. The culinary bar had been set high but Out Lady Help of Christians in Rickmansworth didn’t disappoint. Fr Andrew joined us after mass at a beautifully laid table in the hall and we were served an Italian-style starter comprising slices of tomato and mozzarella. I must have had thirds, it was so nice, but luckily there was still room for the main course of chicken casserole with rice. And then, no fewer than three desserts: a trifle to die for, plus fruit salad and ice-cream. I had it all, and went back for more. As Oscar Wilde famously said, “I can resist everything except temptation.” That had also been the case somewhat at lunchtime, when members of the cleaning team of St Paul’s, Harefield, had given us a delightful welcome and plied us with sausage rolls, sandwiches, tea and cakes.

Day 4 to Berkhamstead was a long one: 17 miles along the towpath of the Grand Union Canal. One of the walkers told me how she’d felt like giving up at lunchtime but, with the encouragement of the group, had pressed on and had finished with a great sense of achievement and had found the experience “transformational.” Day 4 was also the one where my wife, Yim Soon cooked for us, Korean-style, in the kitchen of Sacred Heart church. One of the hungry and footsore pilgrims said it was the nicest meal she’d ever had. The following night it was pretty good too. Parishioners of Sacred Heart, Leighton Buzzard had left dishes for us and they just needed to be heated up. There was a starter of vegetable soup with nice bread, and the main course was a vegan shepherd’s pie with green beans. As on a previous day, I had thirds! But there was still room for strawberries and cream. There’s always room for strawberries and cream.

Day 6 was the one where we got taken out to a restaurant in the evening. Deacon Klaus of St Bede’s, Newport Pagnell was a friendly and generous host; and the tea and cakes on arrival after another strenuous 16-miler of a day were an especially wonderful sight to behold as I collapsed into a chair and shed boots and socks. A substantial breakfast was provided us for us as well. We needed it. Due to route diversions and missing turns a couple of times (I always say to people that getting a bit lost is all part of the pilgrimage experience) we ended up covering a whopping 19 miles on Day 7. And part of our reward in Northampton was getting taken in the evening to the homes of parishioners. Aideen and Kevin couldn’t have been kinder to us. We were able to use their shower, Aideen did our laundry (we were down to our last items), and then we were given a hearty plate of salmon, new potatoes and green beans from their garden; followed by a divine blackberry and apple crumble; and all washed down with a couple of glasses of pinot grigio.

After a well-earned rest day in Northampton, we were on our way again, and our Day 8 of walking took us away from the canal and into wide-open countryside. It also took us to Market Harborough and to yet more incredible hospitality. The kind host for Yim Soon, Anita and I was Cyprian, who explained, after we’d all had glorious showers, that his friend Basia was doing the cooking. Basia, who has run her own restaurant, told us as we took our seats at the table that she’d been taught by her Polish grandmother to cook with love. Basia had clearly been a good student, for what followed, in both presentation and taste, could not have been bettered in a Michelin starred establishment. We were given long strips of pepper filled with buckwheat, accompanied by green beans arranged around a sort of nutty mixture and with a Greek-style yogurty sauce. Cyprian assured us that this was ‘just’ the entrée and, sure enough, there was more. From the oven, Basia produced a tray of chicken pieces roasted in lemon and the sight of it was a work of art in itself, so that I simply stared at it, wide-eyed, for some time. Eating it was good too; and it was perfectly paired with a dish of potato wedges. And, deserving of such a banquet, Cyprian had opened a very good bottle of French red.

Day 9 of walking took us across freshly-ploughed fields and I’d pointed out to the group in the morning that we were pilgrims in the truest sense of a word that has its origin in the Latin pereginus, from per, meaning through, and ager, meaning field. In the days when the expression was first coined, most people would never travel much beyond their own village, except for an occasional journey to a distant holy place, which would take them literally through the fields. Our walk that day across some very soggy fields was 16 miles in length and took us to Belton in Rutland. By happy chance it was a Wednesday, the only day in the week when the local pub, The Sun Inn, does food. Yim Soon and I treated ourselves to enormous plates of lasagne, chips and salad. The fatigue and the downpours of the day were quickly forgotten.

The hospitality bar had been set sky high, and I wondered if it could continue. Oh yes, it could! In Melton Mowbray, after a stage of ‘only’ 15 miles, Yim Soon and I were hosted by Vicky and Graham, with whom we had the most convivial of evenings. On arrival, Vicky gave us tea and gigantic cookies and encouraged us to have a nice shower and relax for a while. Then at the meal table, Vicky said “Let’s go mad,” as Graham opened a bottle of fizz. For the main course of boeuf bourguignon, we moved onto a heavenly Cabernet Sauvignon (what else!) and the blackberry crumble pudding was indeed sent by the angels. Vicky and Graham were fascinated by the various walks that Yim Soon and I had done in the preceding year and they were fantastic company.

Our Day 11 of walking was another 15-miler and ended in the village of Keyworth, where parishioners of St Margaret Clitherow had prepared an Indian-theme meal. There was a huge pot of Keema Pulao, which is a sort of vegetable curry hiding underneath a layer of steaming rice. Then there was a scrumptious yogurt dish called Riata, a tomato and onion salad and piles and piles of poppadoms and naans.

That was the last evening our group would be together, for the next day we would reach our destination of Nottingham and meet up with the other three groups that had been coming from north, east and west. It was appropriate that we began to reminisce about the incredible kindness we had received on our journey. Having done now many pilgrimages, I’ve noticed how the act of being a pilgrim touches not just those walking but also those that are passed on the way. On this Pilgrimage of Hope, those we had passed had been so incredibly kind and they seemed to have delighted in that.

In case any reader gets the impression that pilgrimage is one big, happy dinner party, I should point out that walking long distances day after day and being without the normal securities and creature comforts of life can be tough. And yet, there is something utterly joyful about the experience. As usual, there was fun, there was laughter, there was singing. And yes, there was some quite remarkable food. Food for the body, food for the soul. And in the immortal words of John Bunyan, which we sang in our final mass in Nottingham’s St Barnabas Cathedral:

There’s no discouragement shall make him once relent
his first avowed intent to be a pilgrim.

Between meals Eddie Gilmore is a writer and collaborator in the Hearts in Search of God project. More information about his books here.