In my youth, juvenile fantasy novels promised I would receive my magic powers/sarcastic dragon companion/call to fulfill ancient prophesy upon reaching adolescence. When my twelfth birthday brought nothing but bad skin, though, I turned to the library and the Internet to prove that magic did exist.

And that’s when I discovered Glastonbury Tor.

Back in 2005, I had a picture like this as my desktop wallpaper. Now I’ve photographed the Tor myself. Full circle!

I had to visit England during my semester abroad, and the fact that my lovely high school friend is studying at Exeter for the year guaranteed I’d be making my way down South at least once.

Because flying from Edinburgh to Exeter is bizarrely challenging, I opted for a train journey instead. There’s something delightful about the fluidity of rail travel: each stop has the potential to bring a new crop of coach-mates, while the train’s earthbound nature offers scenery a little more fascinating than clouds and empty ocean.

After a much-needed night of rest, we took another train from Exeter to Taunton, where we caught a (ridiculously late) bus to carry us to Glastonbury. As the bus bumped its way down rocky backroads, I felt victoriously unashamed of romanticizing the English countryside for so many years. It looked so beautiful that I almost expected to see one of Beatrix Potter’s anthropomorphized kittens taking a wee stroll before tea-time.

Once we reached Glastonbury proper (a.k.a. the world’s best town for metaphysical fairy-chasers like yours truly), we were officially on the pilgrims’ path towards the Tor!

Without the excellent signage, I would’ve been convinced that we were just lost on a farm.

I’m considering submitting this picture to the dictionary as an illustrative example of “pastoral.”

Sadly, the white streak near the tower is a jet, not a fairy.

“Doesn’t Torr have to do with millimeters of mercury?”

Looks like someone paid attention in AP Chem! Tor-with-one-R is a word of either Anglo-Saxon or Celtic origin meaning “hill” or “mountain.” Young Keely was attracted to Glastonbury Tor because of its connections to both Celtic folklore and Arthurian legend: after all, the tor is supposedly the location of the Isle of Avalon, the mystical sanctuary to which the Lady of the Lake bore Arthur after his final battle. As a result, Glastonbury has been considered a place of great spiritual significance to believers of all denominations for thousands of years.

Of course, there are also those who visit the Tor simply because it’s absolutely gorgeous. I have no clue why they could possibly think that.

Honestly, the free-roaming sheep scared me more than the prospect of otherworldly activity.

The tower (fun fact: “tower” is also etymologically linked to “tor”) was built in the 12th-century, and is the only remaining evidence of monks that lived on the hill in the 1000s.

At the top, the wind threatened to steal my scarf, a pair of adorable children in matching red parkas tussled in the grass, and a modern-day troubadour with a guitar performed within the safety of the tower.

It’s February, you say? Apparently not in Glastonbury. Sorry, Ithaca.

Pilgrims of the canine persuasion are equally welcome atop the tor, as long as they don’t mess with the mountain’s sheep population. We crossed paths with a tiny pug clearly oblivious to this rule–after successfully chasing a sheep halfway across a small plateau, the pug proceeded to climb the tor’s stairs with gusto, repeatedly looking backwards to mock its much slower owners.

And then it was back down to earth, where even the benches have Glastonbury pride.

How could I resist a town where bookstores keep their fairy/mythology/paganism/New Age/vegetarian books in the front room and the “normal” books in the back?

Edinburgh is exciting, certainly, but I am a country girl at heart, and I am dangerously tempted to do whatever it takes to move back to Glastonbury at some point in my life. In fact, it might be genuinely hard for me to return to windswept, freezing Scotland up North after this little springtime retreat. At least I have my first Gaelic lesson to look forward to!