St Non’s lies 2 miles south of Saint Davids, on one of the most beautiful stretches of the Pembrokeshire coast in West Wales. It is a “thin place”, where the spiritual world is tangibly present in the physical landscape. According to legend it is where St Non, a young noblewoman who had been raped by a local prince, gave birth to St David in a thunderstorm; it is said that she clutched so hard on a rock during her labour that it rock split in two, revealing a well with fresh water for her to drink.
A chapel was later built there, possibly on the site of an earlier pagan temple. The well was preserved, and a stone structure built around it; its waters were, and still are, believed to be sacred and to have healing properties. Benedict XVI used water from St Non’s Well during his pastoral visit to the UK in 2010, and votive offerings are still placed there: ribbons, children’s shoes and rosaries hang near the statue of Non in the nearby grotto. The water is said to be a cure for sore eyes – perhaps a deeper reference to the seeking of insight and wisdom.
In 1934 the owner of the land, a solicitor from Carmarthen, built a new chapel near the well for his Catholic wife – the nearest church then being 25 miles away – full of light and beauty, with a stone flagged floor and simple altar. There is a candle stand by the dominating marble statue of Non, fiercely protective of the infant David whom she holds in her arms.
There are stained glass windows of the Celtic saints Briach and Winifred, and, above the altar, a particularly beautiful light depicting Non herself and David’s arrival on the shores of Brittany – legend has it that he travelled there as a missionary. The first time I visited, the Sisters of Mercy from the nearby convent (once the family home of the chapel-building solicitor) had made little packages of prayers and vials of holy water for pilgrims. I have kept mine safe, for future need. The convent is now a retreat centre.
St Non and her story have a resonance for all victims of violence or assault, and for all those who feel excluded from their communities. She must have been cast out by her wealthy family – presumably the rape and resultant pregnancy would have made her an object of shame – otherwise she would not have been giving birth alone in such inauspicious conditions. There are echoes of Mary’s story here – the stigma of a pregnancy outside marriage and the search for a safe sanctuary in which to give birth.
Two pilgrimages to St David’s shrine in his cathedral were reckoned to be worth one to Rome in the days before the Reformation, when pilgrimage was part of the spiritual life of the nation, for those who could afford to take the time. Now pilgrimage in the UK is experiencing a revival: the old routes from both South and North Wales to St Davids have been rediscovered and local churches offer stamps for pilgrim passports as on the Camino. But for those who work or have small children, shorter journeys are more realistic and increasingly popular – and you can walk from St Non’s to St Davids and back in a circular morning pilgrimage.
I went from St Non’s to St Davids Cathedral walking along the cliffs, inland footpaths and narrow lanes. I started at Caerfai, just south of St Davids, parking in the car park above the beach. I took time to marvel at the extraordinary colours of the rocks – blues and greys and oranges, against the backdrops of sea and sky (fortunately blue on that day) and the clean washed-ness of the sand. From there I picked up the coastal path and headed west towards Porthclais and St Justinian’s.
Rounding the headland of Pen-y-Cyfrwy I could see the retreat house set against the sky. I left the path and walked up towards the chapel, rising humbly from the turf, glad to find it open. I lit a candle, enjoyed the deep peace of the place, then made my way out and along the path to the Holy Well. I bathed my eyes in the water hoping for insight and wisdom, and sat for a while between the shrine to St Non and the well, thinking of RS Thomas’s words: “Here is holy water, / Old stone and a sky / That is limitless.” The path leads on to the original chapel, now derelict and roofless, but with its sanctity still intact. A stone with a cross carved in the 6th century leans against its wall, a reminder of the presence of the saint and her newborn son.
Back on the coast path there are choices to be made. You could make a day of it, and follow the path all the way round the headland, passing Porthclais and then Saint Justinian and round to Whitesands, place of the convent in which St Non lived out her life. There is no trace of it now, but the views of St Davids Head and the outcrop of Carn Llidi are as they always would have been, as is the spectacular sweep of the sand.
From Whitesands it is a 30-minute walk along the lanes into St Davids; or you can leave the coastal path at Porthclais, a little natural harbour just along from St Non’s, and walk to the cathedral from there. It stands on the banks of the River Alun, on the site of the monastery founded by St David in the 6th century. His philosophy was simple: to live peaceably and to do no harm; his community was vegetarian and the monks ploughed their land themselves without subjecting animals to the task. His famous words, “Be joyful, have faith and do the little things in life,” are an inspirational maxim in a complex world. His emblem is the dove.
The Norman pillars of the nave have borne witness to centuries of change – an earthquake, the ravages of invaders, the building of the Holy Trinity chapel with its beautiful fan vaulting in the early 16th century. The shrines of St David and St Justinian were stripped during the Reformation and the building was badly neglected during the 1920s after the disestablishment of the Church in Welsh.
But in the 1990s the collapsing 12th-century west front was restored using stone from the original quarry. It is now a thriving community, hosting all kinds of pilgrim-related events, and exhibiting the work of contemporary artists.
St David’s shrine has been restored and the reliquaries are back in place; icons gleam in the half-light, evoking the spirit of Byzantium. And in the north quire, there she is: St Non, strong and defiant, staring fearlessly at the world from between the dark plaits of her hair, St David clinging to her cloak.
<a href="https://thecatholicherald.com/reading-on-this-holy-island-a-modern-pilgrimage-across-britain-can-leave-you-yearning-for-a-bit-more-religious-commitment/"><mark style="background-color:rgba(0, 0, 0, 0)" class="has-inline-color has-vivid-cyan-blue-color"><strong><em>RELATED: ‘On This Holy Island: A Modern Pilgrimage Across Britain’ leaves you yearning for more religious commitment</em></strong></mark></a>
<em>Camilla Harrison is a children’s catechist in the Diocese of Shrewsbury. The retreat house at St Non’s is run by the Archdiocese of Cardiff: <a href="https://stnon.co.uk/"><mark style="background-color:rgba(0, 0, 0, 0)" class="has-inline-color has-vivid-cyan-blue-color">stnon.co.uk</mark></a></em>
<strong><strong>This article appears in the Lenten March 2025 edition of the <em>Catholic Herald</em>. To subscribe to our award-winning, thought-provoking magazine and have independent, high-cali</strong>bre and <strong>counter-cultural Catholic journalism delivered to your door anywhere in the world click <a href="https://catholicherald.co.uk/subscribe/?swcfpc=1"><mark style="background-color:rgba(0, 0, 0, 0)" class="has-inline-color has-vivid-cyan-blue-color">HERE</mark></a></strong></strong>.
