So far we’ve established that Hasungen may have been the site of an early Christian hermitage, founded on top of a hill where pagans used to gather on the summer solstice in order to do pagan things. Indeed, a stream that flows from the foot of Hasungen is still known as Teufelsborn, ‘Devil’s Spring’, and one mile to the north is another stream called Heiligenbach, ‘Holy Beck’, perhaps so named because early baptisms took place there.
Across the valley from Hasungen is a combe called Heilerbachtal, which we’ve already visited. The most exciting thing, however, is at the head of the combe: Helfenstein, a massive basalt formation that looks as though it was frozen while erupting out of the grassy peak.
To give some idea of scale, the bowl-shaped rise is about 250 metres across and 50 metres high. When you’re standing at the top of the combe, Helfenstein simply siezes your senses and draws you towards it. Only when you reach it do you realise how tall and steep it is; it takes a good five minutes of clambering to reach the top.
The best way to approach is from the north-west side (1). You follow a winding track up the slope, picking through the rough grass and vegetation, to a cluster of horn-like extrusions (2). By this point you’re already out of breath, taking care not to slip on the increasingly rocky ground, and it’s all you can do to crane your neck up to look at the looming sentinels as you climb between their shadows.
Once near the top, you pass by the side of the central extrusion and head towards the tallest and most distant (3). This was the focus of Bronze Age rituals, and in later medieval times was used as a fortified lookout post. There’s no evidence of conversion-period activity here, but then we wouldn’t necessarily expect there to be, since religious rituals in exposed natural settings often leave no archaeological traces.
This final outcrop is one of the weirdest places I’ve ever been. You can see here how large it is - if you look closely you can make out a tiny Carolyn standing bottom right. The weirdest thing, though, is believing that it’s an entirely natural feature. It just looks... freaky.
For one thing, the way the volcanic rock formed and cooled several million years ago has resulted in a flight of ‘steps’ that lead you up the northern side to the very top. Here’s a close-up of the steps:
Quite bizarre. Not only that, but the steps lead towards a large platform at the top which has its own natural ‘altar’, an alcove protected on three sides by sloping rocks, with the fourth, open side looking directly towards - of all places - Heilerbachtal, Wichtelkirche and Hasungen.
In order to test whether this ‘altar’ would have been suitable for, say, human sacrifices, Carolyn and I did a little test.
Thanks to Carolyn for the photo!
Result. But what does all this mean for Boniface? There’s no direct evidence that Helfenstein was ever visited in the eighth century. I can only fall back on supposition and circumstance: Hasungen appears to have been important at the time, in part surely because of its unique solstice relationship with Helfenstein. The combe below Helfenstein has a stream called Heilerbach, ‘Healing Beck’, along with the Wichtelkirche, which I suggested derived its name from ‘Holy Valley’. All this points towards Helfenstein’s special status in the landscape.
Finally, if Helfenstein was some kind of ritual site in the conversion period, it chills me to think what the Anglo-Saxon missionaries would have made of it. They had no concept of geology or any understanding of the natural processes which could create something like this. They must have looked at Helfenstein and assumed that someone or something had created it; when they saw those great columns twisting out of the earth, the huge flight of steps leading up to the altar, they may have seen not a natural curiosity, but a monstrous, perverted imitation of church architecture - a nightmarish temple wrought by the hands of Satan to his own glory: the Devil’s Crown.
