Friday has been a very good and surprising day. I gave the homily at the Mass this morning to finish the retreat. The monks went into a Chapter Meeting after breakfast and voted Br Stephen for solemn profession in July. That will have been quite a moment for him.
Abbot Mark had suggested that we should drive to the mountains and, although the weather was not looking so good, we set off at 11am to drive North West. The highway was bordered by thick woodlands all the way. It is all so lush and green and must look wonderful in the autumn colours. The road was quite quiet despite this being a holiday weekend with Monday being Memorial Day. We drove to the Swaum Lakes which are a network of very attractive lakes, surrounded by some dramatic hills and sprinkled with scores of little islands. The shore was lined with cabins and boats as it is a very popular holiday destination and there seem to be any number of Americans who have second homes. The property brochures are awash with million dollar houses in the area. We walked for forty minutes up Rattlesnake Mountain (all sounding like the Wild West) which should have given us a fine view of the lakes and the many islands but the cloud was low and we actually saw nothing. Very beautiful, as we walked, however, were the roots of the trees. New Hampshire is called "The Granite State" for good reason and the granite seems to lie just below the ground all over the place. The trees seem to have adapted by having roots that can run along above the ground for a considerable distance before finding the soil in which they can grow down. There were places on the path which seemed to be a carpet of gnarled roots. I was slightly alarmed by a warning of bears and what to do if confronted by one; not sure how serious Mark was when he was telling me.
We then drove to the cabin which the monastery owns and which monks use during the summer for a week of holiday. It is right on the water's edge in a very quiet cove. Simple but comfortable, it is well-equipped with kitchen and shower rooms and can sleep six. I would certainly enjoy a few days here, which is exactly what I have been invited to do. Who knows? It may happen. Back to thoughts of bears: the cabin has damage from bears and there are various protective cages and panels around tanks and machinery, so maybe the warning on the mountain was for real.
Our journey back was easy enough, because we were travelling south, away from the lakes. The highway northbound was choked with holiday traffic and there was very slow moving traffic for a full twenty miles. The holiday weekend was getting underway.
We were back in time for vespers and then supper was relaxed because the retreat was over and there was talking allowed during the meal. I was sitting in my usual place next to the former abbot, Matthew. I have been sitting in his place in the choir stalls all week and there are some books in Hungarian. I was surprised to find that he is in fact of pure Irish stock and born in the Bronx. He learned Hungarian after joining some Hungarian monks in California who were there in exile after the Second World War. He spent a sabbatical year in Budapest and seems to be quite obsessed with the project of learning the language. No-one seems to learn Hungarian and, in my experience of visiting Budapest, many Hungarians are well able to speak English.
I went to a local hotel for a drink with Jonathan after supper. I enjoyed a local beer called "pallet wrecker" and would recommend it. One of the restaurants we passed this morning as we drove to the lakes is quite famous; Chez Vachon, in the heart of what was the French community of Manchester. Its fame comes from its 5lb dish of chips, gravy and cheese. Anyone who can eat it all gets it for free and, apparently, only two people have ever done it. Bill Clinton has visited twice.
I felt pleased at how many of the monks have made a point of coming to see me today to say goodbye. They seem pleased with the retreat. A great relief.
Up at 4am on Saturday morning for the drive to Boston airport. Although it seems to have been a relaxed time, suddenly the week is over and it hardly seems a week since I arrived. It has been a great experience. I have always enjoyed the monastic atmosphere and what a privilege to spend a week with the community and to be a part of the retreat. Those who know me well will know of my niggling ambition to be a monk that has re-emerged from time to time. Those who know me really, really well would probably be right in saying that I would not last six months. So I welcome times like this when I can enjoy the monastic life for at least a few days. In my experience, Benedictines have an easy manner with guests and offer a welcome which has no fuss: a visitor is simply included in the routines and made to feel at home.
So I am back in London and in harness, with another thirty Confirmations lining up before the end of June, the first of which is this afternoon. No more travels for the foreseeable future but, if plans with CAFOD come to fruition, I should have something to report in October. END OF THE JOURNEY
