Carlisle

You can't get to St Bees on a Sunday.  No trains.

I found out later that you can get to Whitehaven on a Sunday, which is a 10 minute cab ride from the trailhead, and we could have stayed in either Whitehaven or St Bees very easily.  You probably already knew this though as EVERYONE KNOWS THIS.

So, in my hasty booking, I figured the only way to get to the St Bees  would be to spend Sunday night nearby in Carlisle, and then take the first train to St Bees early Monday morning.  I was just thinking on the fly, and really now.  Who could fault me for this oversight for throwing together a long, linear walk in high summer in the lake district in just a few hours.  I was lucky this was the worst of my errors.

At least we got to see Carlisle?

The train ride was long and delayed at least an hour, but it took us through some very pretty countryside. The most terrible thing happened though: a woman in the seat across from us had clearly fouled her pants, and was standing uncomfortably with a sweater tied around her waist the last 20 minutes of our trip.  I decided to take this not as an omen for things to come, and we struggled to comprehend the situation we were in and get the hell off that train.   We found ourselves in need of a stretch and more fresh air then the earth had to offer, and set out to explore a bit before the self-imposed early bedtime.  

I wanted to stay close to the train station in Carlisle, and the only option ended up being an Ibis- a bland but cheap and reliable chain.

Anyplace you go on a Sunday in most of the UK is really not a good representation of what the town is actually like, as most of the town is shuttered save the pubs.  Walking in the downtown historic center pedestrian streets was downright eerie as it was completely deserted.  Aside from the glut of deserted and empty building here, there didn't really seem to be much going on at all.  

There was a beautiful old church, with ruins around it from when it was a much bigger abbey.

It was closed by the time we meandered up the hill, but Carlisle Castle is right on Hadrian's Wall.  Unwittingly, we got to walk a bit more of the Hadrian's Wall trail than I ever thought we would get around to doing.

Carlisle Castle was built in 1122 atop the ruins of a Roman fort, and changed hands a lot between the English and the Scots as this rough little border town was captured and recaptured again and again.

We had a really good curry for dinner, as we were fairly certain that might be the last flavorful thing we would eat in a week.  Then back to the Ibis to witness a rather violent fist fight between two football fans, complete with fleet security guards and a woman who took the opportunity to tell the bloke what was really on her mind before the cops showed up and threw him in they paddywagon.  Needless to say, I did not feel the need to run out to the nearest pub to see what other fascinating events might happen here on a Sunday night.  

 Oh, Carlisle.  Keeping it classy.

Hadrian, Day 4: Better than Expected, a nice walk to Corbridge

Our last day of hiking.  This day, we would hike about 7 miles along the Wall and then turn off and hike a few miles to Corbridge, were we would take the train back to Newcastle.  

Ok, so I hate to get all complainy but the English pub in the countryside really needs to step up their game as far as food is concerned.  I wanted to cry at breakfast when I was presented with deep-fried mushrooms, and I hadn't had anything crunchy or fresh in days.  The vegetables were doubtless from the freezer, and presented with no seasoning or ceremony: just a dish with steamed broccoli and carrots and peas, very wilted and mushy and discolored.  Very sad, as I am one of those people who NEEDS my vegetables and I don't feel right if I'm not eating enough of them.  Also, at this particular pub, I asked for small roasted potatoes as a side, and they came back with a plate of roasted potatoes, mashed potatoes, and fried potatoes all on one plate.  Because I need more potatoes.  Also, a microwave and a fryalator does not a kitchen make.  

Anyway.  Aside from the grim foodie scene, I am in love with the countryside here.  

I continue to amaze myself with my body's ability to bounce back after 9 hours of napping.  I can be exhausted and achy and tired, but after a good sleep, I have no problem at all getting up and doing it all again.  Sleep.  It's Magic.

I didn't know quite what to expect with our hike this day; the OS map indicated that we would be following a busy road most of the day.

We got a couple miles down the road and realized that we never gave the key back to reception at the pub.  The thing was huge, too- it weighed about as much as a brick.  A frantic on-trail phone call later and we were told to drop the key by a teahouse a little further up the trail.  Bullet dodged!  People here, despite lacking culinary skills, are friendly.

True, the road was nearby, but it was a fairly pleasant countryside walk, with nice long downhills and very few uphills.  The handful of people we saw on the trail were walking from Newcastle, and they assured us red-faced and puffing that we had a very pleasant downhill walk ahead of us.

The wall, once again, was all but disappeared on us, but there was this interesting section:

You can see the indentation in the foundation where the builders decided that they had enough of the 3 meter wide wall, and suddenly changed it to a narrower structure.    And...that was the only bit of wall we saw that day.

We passed the tiny St Oswald's Church, on the spot where King Oswald of Wales battled the pagans to bring Christianity to the North.

Mostly, we were just following the defense ditch that the Romans dug, and the wall was no more.

It was really easy walking, and despite the road being about 30 feet away, it was peaceful.  Another day's walk and we would have been in New Castle, slightly bored.

The day was pleasant enough, and we turned down a lane to explore a tiny little chapel and a house that was built from a castle.

It seemed quite posh, and they had "Keep Out" signs and high walls all around their manicured grounds.

We decided to try for another English Heritage sight nearby, Aydon Castle, but it was closed on Mondays.  Still, we wove our way through the woods and started seeing signs of civilization.

We hoofed it into Corbridge with a few hours to spare before the train swung into the station, and set out to acquire ice cream and explore.

There was a Roman fort and town here as well, Coria, but I was kind of done with the Romans at this juncture.

It ended up being really charming and sweet town- I wouldn't mind to make this my base camp if I was to ever come back to the area.  Lots of cute shops and cafes and places to eat.  If I felt we smelled nice enough to crowd into a cafe, I would have spent an afternoon drinking tea and people-watching.

There was a beautiful old church of St Andrews, made from stone plundered from the nearby fort.   A very knowledgeable lady in the church gave us a quick history, and pointed out all sorts of interesting things.

Corbridge being a border town, there was a time when the Scots would come down and raid and terrorize from time to time.  She said the black marks on the front of the Norman doorway was from the time Robert Bruce came down to terrorize the townfolk and tried to burn them out of the church.

Town explored and fawned over, we grabbed a pint in a little pub that had a beer garden next to the train station before heading back to civilization.  We ended up doing about 10 miles on this day- the light walk I thought we would be doing was hardly that, and we boarded the train fragrant and sticky.

I'm not rushing back to finish the trail anytime soon, or ever.  I'm perfectly happy with the more wild and remote sections that we tackled, and I'd rather find a new trail to explore rather than walk along a roadside and through cities for a couple more days.

What made the trail totally worthwhile though were all the museums and places to stop along the Roman trail.  It seemed weird, but I did learn quite a lot on this hike.  

My feet were fine, with just a couple small blisters, and maybe just a little tender, but I'm just thrilled that we did this walk.  Even though it wasn't difficult, I felt blissfully exhausted.

Hadrian, Day 3: Hills, Crags, and Lakes

After a decent breakfast, we got an early start.  This was our longest hike: a bit over 15 miles on paper, and it was also some of the biggest hills on the trail.  

There were far fewer people on the trail today as well.  I don't know if it was the day or the section of the trail being kind of remote, but I did enjoy having the trail mostly to ourselves.

There are odd crops here and there on the wall: they are Mile Castles and Turrets, which were spaced out evenly so that word of a threat could be passed along to the forts quickly.

 There were some really dramatic ups and downs to this trail.  We reached sycamore gap, a huge tree in a down section of the wall.  It's so steep, you don't even get a view of the tree until you are practically hoovering over it as you pick your way through a tricky downhill.

It was too bad it was so early as it would be a great place for a picnic.  There wasn't a whole lot of shade on the trail, so it was admirable that such a lovely old tree was stoically guarding this part of the wall.

We climbed up Highsheild Crags, with a view of peaceful Crag Lough, where we paused to watch a couple of guys in a boat fly-fish, and actually land a fish.

These are probably the luckiest farmers in this land:

Those views!

 On parts of the wall, they spray herbicide to keep the grass and weeds at bay, but here, it was grown over.  While there are signs all over to stay off the wall, we occasionally saw people walk along it, and there was one section near Housesteads Fort where it seemed to be where the trail actually courses.

We knew we were getting close to Housesteads because of the sudden flux of people on the trail, many of whom were wearing "church shoes" and came up the hill for the photo ops, and a few intrepid families walking to the next milecastle, perhaps to defend it from barbarians.

A chaffinch, a very common but lovely bird

 Housesteads is a English-Heritage run site of a sizable fort right on the wall.  They had a museum and a film to watch, and the grounds of the fort to explore.  It's notable especially for this:

Communal latrine!  You can hold hands while taking care of business, making sure you never went a moment  of your day devoid of company.

It's worth a stop in- I think we spent about an hour there before the threatening skies encouraged us to get moving again.

This is where the wall is at its highest- it's truly a formidable barrier, and 3 meters wide.

Here is the section of wall looking back on the Fort walls, with people standing on them:

This was the loneliest part of the trail.  It really did feel like the frontier.  

Oh, and those storm clouds: how dramatic!  We put our rain gear on and it began to pelt huge furious drops.

Sewingshields 

Lapwing

The skies cleared soon enough, and it was back to peaceful, but windy hiking for our last big climb up Sewingshield crags.  This was the view from the top:

OOOH-whee, that's quite a bit of hills.  I love how the wall looks like a spine, making sure you know exactly what kind of climbing you just put behind you.

Quite sadly, it was all downhill from here as you descended back down through fields and farms to follow the B road.  But man, that was a great two days of hill hiking.

Jackdaws

We hit another fort, Brocolitia.  This one was just an earthen mound on top of a flattened hill, but they did have a really intact temple next to it.

We got there just in time for a busload of people on an archaeological tour arrived, and eavesdropped on the lecture about the cult surrounding the temple- a god borrowed from far-off Persia.

And then, the trail got kind of boring as we followed closely alongside a busy B road for the next 5 miles and we left the jurisdiction of Northumberland National Park.

There was very little wall here at all, but occasionally a small section would be preserved.

The trail got even bleaker as the it turned onto a sidewalk that followed the paved road the last two miles of the hike, with very little of anything to see.  They do a good job of making sure you have a sidewalk on this otherwise underpopulated part of England, but it's never fun to walk along a highway.  This was boring to me, and the thought of hitchhiking into town or calling a cab crossed my mind more than once just to save the feet a beating.  We passed the town of Chollerford and followed the sidewalk as the trail turned south.

We made our way to the tiny hamlet of Wall, where we were staying at the local pub right off the trail.  We did 16 miles in the end- more than half, very hilly, the rest, roadside and gentle slopes, and more than two miles on  and insufferable tarmac.  We were tired and happy to be off the feet, and that good healthy glow about us that comes with so many miles behind you.

Tomorrow, more hiking.  It gets slightly better.