Hadrian's Wall (Sep 2022)

Preamble

In AD 122 Emperor Hadrian ordered the building of a great wall to protect civilized Roman Britain from the savage tribes to the north. Three full legions (15,000 men) toiled for the next five years to realize his vision. When they were finished, a twelve foot high stone wall spanned the width of Great Britain, effectively splitting the island in two. From modern day Bowness on the west coast, to Wallsend on the east, it ran for a distance of 80 Roman miles (117 kilometres). Along its length a "Milecastle" was placed at every Roman mile to house the garrison, while watch-towers every third of a mile in between provided shelter from the British weather.

For all the effort it took to build, though, a static fortification like wall was only intermittently useful for the period With the border in constant motion, though, a static fortification like the wall was only intermittently useful. So, for the next four hundred years, it was only intermittently manned, until the last of the Romans left in 410 AD. With the savages now in charge, a long process began of pillaging Hadrian's Wall for dressed stone to fence their fields and build their barns.

For th

Day-01: Bowness to Carlisle (30km)

Thursday, 1 September 2022

When I mentioned a long held ambition to hike the Hadrian's Wall Path, Gene Buksa — my Roman antiquarian buddy — was in like a shot. One thing led to another, and we were able to meet up in London at the end of August, 2022. From there we caught a train to Carlisle, the western terminus of our Big Adventure.

Carlisle is a scruffily charming big town or small city, but we didn't spend much time seeing the sights before checking into Logan House. These amazingly spacious accommodations proved handy for the intense evening of getting organized that followed, and the explosion of trail gear onto the floors that this required.

The actual trailhead is some distance west of Carlisle, at Bowness-on-Solway. So, the next day started with a bus ride to Bowness, followed by a walk back to Carlisle. Which meant that Gene and I were up at Zero Dark Stupid (05:00!) to get out the door and down to the bus loop in time for the 06:35 departure to Bowness.

Not far out of town, though, our 93A Stagecoach bus started turning down seemingly every side road and back lane in Cumbria. After a while of this wandering, I made the mistake of checking Apple Maps. Instead of reassuring me, the app just showed a confusing maze of routes between us and Bowness, with a transfer or two apparently required to get there.

That made me desperate enough to walk up to the driver and ask for directions. With a gap-tooth grin, he provided a garrulous explanation that all those route numbers were just variant designations for different days of the week. (!) We were on the right and only bus, and it would get us to Bowness without a transfer. Which was both reassuring, and our first experience of Northern friendliness.

Sure enough, we eventually de-bussed at Bowness-on-Solway, a tiny coastal village with a famous pub. Unfortunately, the King's Arms was closed! Since Gene had planned on eating breakfast there, he would walk most of the day on little more than the banana I generously loaned him from my own supplies. To his credit, he didn't complain once (about hunger).

After fruitlessly trying to pry open the pub door for a while, we headed down Bowness High Street, soon spotting the distinctive acorn of our first National Trust sign. This directed us down Banks Promenade to the trailhead and the tidal flats of Solway Firth.

We spent the rest of the morning crossing the open flats, under a blazing sun, with the expanse of Solway Firth stretching away to the left, and hardly a soul to be seen. Eventually we reached the village of Burgh (pronounced "Broff") and decided to take a break. King Edward I (the "Hammer of the Scots") died nearby 1307, and his passing is marked by a large statue beside the pub. The grounds of which made a handy spot for our stop.

Before long before a woman walking her dog came by. Like most northerners (as we were beginning to recognize) she was always ready for a chat. Recognizing a couple of wall walkers, she stopped to make sure we were aware of what a terrific fellow King Edward was, and that he'd given those perfidious Scots exactly what they deserved. Suitably impressed, we made sure to poke our noses into the nearby St Michael's Church, where Edward's remains lie – more peacefully in death than he ever lived.

We carried on for another couple of hours till the villages started appearing closer together, indicating we were getting close to Carlisle. The last of these was a particularly neat and tidy little place called Beaumont (pronounced "Beemont"). It was so lovely we stopped for a final break before a final, hot slog through the suburbs of Carlisle and back to Logan House.

The official mileage for this day is 23km, but my Apple Watch indicated 30km — about right if you include the hikes to the bus loop and back to our hotel, and the inevitable little deviations that go with walking a footpath rather than a road. That's a long day for two tenderfeet, but, after only a short nap, both of us were up for another walk – to the Woodrow Wilson pub for supper.

Clockwise from top left: northerners on the Carlisle train; the western trailhead; balls of hay; Solway tidal flats; Solway Firth; King Edward I, the "Hammer of the Scots"; St Michael's Church (Burgh); a "kissing gate"; and Beaumont village. Click to enlarge.

Day-02: Carlisle to Brampton (25km)

Friday, 2 September 2022

With no bus to catch, today started at a more reasonable hour. We walked through crowds of commuters heading to work till we were out of Carlisle, rejoining the Path at the Sands Leisure Centre. Soon, the suburbs gave way to farms and gently rolling countryside.

In these settled coastal areas, the wall was so thoroughly pillaged that no sign of it remains. We did see one ancient-looking fortification, but this was only Rickerby Park Tower – a Victorian "folly" built in 1835 as an amusement for its rich owner. We also started seeing a few other walkers on the path. So, yesterday was so solitary because we'd caught such an early bus to Bowness.

At Newton we left the path to walk alongside 2km of dangerous motorway to our stop for the night at Brampton. Check-in wasn't open yet at The Scottish Mews, so we did the sensible thing and ducked into a tea shop. There I enjoyed my first real English scone of the trip – hot, delicious, and smothered with raspberry jam!

Clockwise from top left: Rickerby Park Tower (a Victorian folly), church yard, barns, farm near Brampton, dog guarding a pub in Brampton. Click to enlarge.

Day-03: Brampton to Haltwhistle (28km)

Saturday, 3 Sep 2022

We started the day right with a "toastie" (a grilled cheese) at Berry's Teas, then it was back beside the murderous highway to rejoin the path. We were rewarded at Walton/Banks East Turret, though, with our first sight of the wall. From there to the Birdoswald Roman Fort there was some spectacular walking alongside a waist high pile of Roman rocks.

After lunch at the Birdoswold museum coffee shop, we carried on to the village of Greenhead. With all the farting around and uphill and downhill (Gene claimed, repeatedly that the path only goes uphill, which I pointed out is geographically impossible) we didn't get there till past 5:00p. And there was still another frickin' highway walk off the path to get to our B&B in Haltwhistle. So, when I saw Greenhead had a proper hotel, I bet Gene that they could rustle us up a taxi. Sure enough, Reception successfully dialled a taxi on their second try, which showed up ten minutes later. For £10 it promptly delivered us right to the door of the Old School House.

Things were looking up and soon got even better. Ian, the very pleasant owner greeted us at the door and promptly asked: "would you like a couple of beers?"

Caters to walkers, drying room.

Clockwise from top left: Leaving the Scottish Mews, Brampton; Naworth Castle; first sight of the wall; crossing a style; walking; down to the River Irthing; Roman graffiti on a barn wall; farm; Milecastle 48. Click to enlarge.

Day-04: Haltwhistle to Bardon Mill (20km)

Sunday, 4 September 2022

Ian was setting the table for the first sitting while Kate started the cooking. At breakfast we ended up having a great conversation with the unmarried couple and the chubby painter seen in the lounge last night. Started, typically, with the Brits comparing where they were born and grew up. Identifying your birthplace seems the conversational starting point all British people can share, kind of like talking about the weather for Canadians.

Ian was terrific. He not only showed me the British equivalent of Moleskin (Compeed — a clear patch with some cushioning but no felt) but gave me a box of them (they come in a little, wedge-shaped plastic container). Then, as promised, he drove us to the Roman Army Museum, just off the trail, for the start of our day.

On the way there I asked how long he and Kate had been operating the B&B and it turned out they'd sold up their house in Edinburgh and left their "proper" day jobs behind only a few years before. After buying the Old School House David had set them up as an LLC (he'd been a company owner and partner before, so knew how to operate a business). That let him furlough himself and Kate during COVID and qualify for government relief funds. So, they'd weathered the pandemic pretty well and were now up to speed serving Hadrian's Wall and Pennine Way walkers. Wasn't surprised to hear the quiet and modest Ian is so well organized. For friendliness, cleanliness, hospitality, efficiency, and service above and beyond the call of duty, the Old Schoolhouse in Haltwhistle is the best place we've stayed yet.

After that we had a look through the small but interesting Roman Army Museum (dual ticket for this museum and Vindolanda was a reasonable £14) and took the guided tour around the square of turf which will one day be excavated to reveal Magna Fort.

Then, around noon, we hit the nearby path and were almost immediately panting uphill to walk around the Ridgeline of Walltown Crags. We had a relatively short day (about 11km by the official route measurement) but it was spectacular: all wind-swept hillsides with no villages or benches en route. The up and down between crags did make for slower going, though, and Gene was noticeably slowing near the end.

Finally, after turning off the path, just past Twice Brewed, there was another fucking, seemingly endless highway walk, with cars whizzing by, to get the 4km to Bardon Mill. With all the farting around, and the death march off the trail, we didn't get there till after 5:00p — on what was supposed to be a short day!

The Bowes Hotel was charming, though, a few rooms above a roughly renovated and still rather rustic pub. We had supper in the bar while a village Quoits game finished up on the lawn outside. After supper we had a quick turn around town (not much to it beyond a closed village shop and a stop on the Carlisle - Newcastle train line).

Then I took the laptop back to the bar, had a Jamesons, and worked on this journal while Gene chilled in the room. Didn't get that much done because the promised Leek Auction started just after 8:00p. The place was packed and the action fierce as an auctioneer (who could do the patter) called the bidding on a variety of giant produce, jars of jams, and other local goodies. I had found a little table in an out of the way alcove to one side in the back, but even this filled up, and — as is becoming a theme this trip — I was soon talking with one of the locals, an attractive middle-aged blonde woman in a white shirt and pants. She pressured me to bid on something (it's for the local good!) and then, when she learned I was Canadian, took it upon herself to give me the lowdown on Bardon Mill. Apparently the Hardcastles are the old family here.

Clockwise from top left: Walltown Lough; looking north to Northumberland National Park; old rock quarry is now a pond; Walltown Crags; Gene & friend; Gene Walking; Cawfield Crags; Winshield Crag Trig Point; leek auction at Bowes pub. Click to enlarge.

Day-05: Bardon Mill to Twice Brewed | Vindolanda (8km)

Monday, 5 September 2022

Up at a reasonable hour and then down to the cozy little Bowes Hotel dining room for breakfast at 08:30. We were put next to a rather grim looking older couple but, typically, once a conversation accidentally started, we were soon chatting away like old friends. They were a hard core pair of long distance walkers who'd previously hiked Hadrian's Wall (and, seemingly, most of Britain's long distance paths) were now doing the Pennine Way. They had some good advice on a diversion after Chollerford, to avoid the official route along a road.

If they were the best of English, the worst was a burly drunk, in the middle of the fifth Guinness of his liquid breakfast who kept wandering over and saying, "I'm the local drunk" (obviously) and asking where we were from. A couple of Brits who'd emigrated to Alberta 41 years before were also staying at the hotel (apparently he was their buddy), and he couldn't get over the astonishing fact there were three Canadians in tiny little Bardon Mill at once.

After breakfast the Bowes Hotel owner (also named "Ian" — apparently a requirement around here!) drove us to the Vindolanda Museum and dig site. We arrived just as it opened at 10:00 and stayed there until a few minutes after 3:00p. Even for me — not as big an enthusiast of old rocks as Gene — it was worth it. It's the best Roman museum and biggest most productive Roman dig site in Britain. The museum isn't actually huge, but has some amazing exhibits. I especially liked the writing tablets, thin sheets of wood, with preserved letters, reports, etc that paint an amazing social history of Roman life along the wall. Almost uniquely they've been preserved in an anaerobic layer beneath Vindolanda, created by successive layers of turf being put down as half a dozen wooden forts were built, decayed, and replaced before the stone forts (three of them, eventually) were raised. (Amazingly, for all their other engineering skills, the Romans didn't know about curing wood so, in the northern English climate, their wood structures only lasted a short while). That last nugget came from the guided tour of the dig site, conducted by an ex-British Army Sergeant Major, who was a fine example of his species (that is, a born story teller).

From Vindolanda we walked the couple of kilometres to Twice Brewed, the renowned pub at the half way point in the path that is supposed to be a must-see stop for wall walkers. After all the little guest hotels and pubs we've been staying in, it's far and away the biggest and most commercial place Gene and I have stopped at. And, aside from its location, I'm not sure it's all that special. I was finally able to order a salad, though (exotic fare in the north)!

Day-06: Twice Brewed to Chollerford (23km)

Tuesday, 6 September 2022

From Twice Brewed it was only about 400 metres back to the path on the top of the crags. The start of a great day walking along the windswept crags with great views to South and North.

About 1/3 of the way we stopped at the little museum and fort at Housesteads. Gene paid to go inside while I sat at one of the outdoor picnic tables, drank coffee from my thermos, and caught up this journal a bit. It was a terrific outdoor office!

About 10k before Chollerford we came down off the crags for a flat and rather plain stretch of path to the village. Then, an hour out, we got real rain for the first time this trip, including a stormy ten minutes when it just pelted down.

So, arrived at the George Hotel, a big old pile, pretty wet. Really appreciated a dry room (down a long and winding corridor and through about six connecting doors) and a shower after a day like that! When I get home I'll view North American wilderness backpacking through a different lens…

This is the first real hotel hotel we've stayed at and it is huge (seems to be two old buildings mushed together — hence the long and winding corridor and the two completely different room numbering schemes on the same floor). For supper The George had a choice of restaurant (in the dining room with table service) or pub (in a slightly shabby and poorly designed lounge) with ordering from the bar. We hit the restaurant, which had two or three course meals at a fixed price. Pub food from the bar might have been more interesting…

Day 07: Chollorford to Heddon (31km)

Wednesday, 7 September 2022

We were up well before our assigned breakfast time but, rather than head to the lounge with my laptop, I made a couple of coffees and stayed in the room to catch up on email. Then it was off to a very nice buffet-style breakfast in the George's big restaurant, included in the room rate, and a nice way to finish the conversation.

Despite the guidebook's warning that today's route sticks to the military road pretty closely, and has a lot of walking parallel to a motor road, we then had a pretty nice day of walking. The path only stuck right on the road for a few short stretches; mostly it ran through adjacent fields and, for one stretch, actually followed the defensive ditch! So, with good views of the countryside on either side, the proximity of the road wasn’t a big deal.

But, what really defined today was the rest breaks. Around 11:00 we reached the Errington Coffee House, right on the path, and with a bunch of picnic tables arranged out front. So, we took our first stop there with coffees and a cream scone each. Lovely!

A couple hours later we reached the Robin Hood Pub, which we'd heard about from other walkers. So we went in for a pint each, and this was another great stop. Especially when John Willshaw popped in with his group of buddies. We had bumped into him further down the trail and had a great chat about the various English long distance paths he's walked, "woke" men, etc. When I'd mentioned our Errington stop we'd also wound up having a friendly discussion about the proper pronunciation of "scone". So, I now was able to show him my Scone Map of the UK, which so delighted him he introduced me to his wife and showed it to her when she arrived with their ride.

After that, we reached Heddon on the Wall at a reasonable hour, without the usual endless slog off the path on a motorway. Thanks to Apple Maps we also quickly found Heddon Lodge, a B&B in a nice house at the end of an upmarket lane on the outskirts of the village. This was an interesting contrast to our previous B&B experience at The Old School House. At Heddon Lodge the host, Jacqueline, also met us at the door with an offer of refreshments, but this time it was tea — to be drunk outside at a table on the patio. Once we were inside we realized the house, nice as it was, had no lounge inside for use as a common area by the guests (and certainly not one as casual and cosy and stuffed with books as at The Old School House). No offers to do a load of laundry, either. There was a small, glassed-in "conservatory" for breakfast but each round of guests was scheduled at a separate time — so there was none of the camaraderie and informal socializing that made The Old Schoolhouse so special.

Jacqueline was friendly enough, though, and recommended The Swan (one of two local pubs) for supper.

Day-08 Heddon to Newcastle (20km)

Thursday, 8 September 2022

Our search for a bank machine having proved fruitless the previous evening, our one lead for the £50 cash I needed to settle our bill was the village post office in the filling station.

Breakfast was muesli with fruit, followed by scrambled eggs and salmon in the "conservatory”. In keeping with the Heddon Lodge theme, this was a glassed-in alcove with great views toward the river — much more elegant than the dining room at The Old Schoolhouse. But, as it was only held one group of guests at a time, and was closed off from our host in the kitchen, it utterly lacked the friendly companionship of The Old Schoolhouse.

With breakfast and our tariff settled, we started our last day of trekking with a misty descent through parkland to the River Tyne. For a while we followed a nice path along the north bank, meeting the occasional runner or local out for a stroll. But, soon, we were into the grubby suburbs of Newcastle. The outer suburbs didn’t seem terribly poor, but we were back in scrubby, run-down, depressed Britain. The back gardens behind the detached red brick houses were a wasteland of patches of concrete and scrubby, uncut grass, broken children’s swings and other toys, and uncollected litter blown up against the fences.

Final comments:

• Beauty and friendliness of the north.
• Joys of Euro-style backpacking (light pack, reasonable distances, good trails, overnight accommodations.
• Just a good, "natural" way to explore a place when the villages are only a day's walk apart.

With the help of Apple Maps we caught a local bus downtown for lunch. We limped to our final hotel: Jurys Inn, a full bore business hotel for our final night of the walk. Waiting in the lounge for our room to be ready, we learned that Queen Elizabeth II had died. A funny time and place to hear about the end of an era.