A hike a drama and a wall ...

We stayed in an excellent hotel last night (feather pillows, baked beans and bacon for breakfast) and set off on our 25.5 km walk to Heddon on the Wall, and a further 3.5 km hike to our accomodation for the night. Or so we thought ….

This first photo was taken a couple of hours into our walk. To be honest, while Newcastle’s industrial area, the starting point for our walk across England along the route of Hadrian’s Wall, was interesting and the tidal river Tyne was our constant companion, we were happy to leave this bustling city behind and set off for the country, birdsong, and glimpses of the wall. Alas! We’d hiked a considerable distance along the Tyne when I asked Mr Darcy (for the rest of this post known as Mr Collins for reasons which shall soon become obvious) whether I could have his phone (mine was kept securely in my bag) to take a photo. Mr Collins tapped his front pockets. His back pockets. His shirt pockets. His trouser pockets. He searched his bag. And my bag. His phone was not there!

I have strengths as a travelling companion, but keeping records of bank accounts and flights and numerous other things are not amongst them. They are Mr Collin's’s strengths, so losing his phone was, particularly as we were far from home, SERIOUS. Supportively calm (in the circumstances) I endorsed his plan to go back to the place where, after taking a photo, we had sat briefly on a bench to have a sip from our water bottles. Mr Collins left me his backpack so I could search (again!) and I also searched my backpack. Meanwhile (interestingly as I had earlier that morning said, after Mr Collins had commented on the unusual arm motions of a man who ran past us, that I hadn’t seen him run in quite a number of years) Mr Collins took off at speed to retrace our steps.

After searching the backpacks, I lugged them on my back and followed along behind. I also asked various Newcastle locals (particularly those with prams as those with prams are typically thoughtful and observant people) what they would do if they lost a phone and where was the local police station. Most told me that if anyone of criminal intent found the phone, they’d send it offshore for parts (not a positive response) or if not of criminal intent, they would hand it in ‘somewhere’ where it would be lost in a black hole of bureaucracy. Knowing that if we didn’t find the phone short term, we’d have to shut down bank accounts and so on, I anxiously walked in the direction from which we had come.

And I walked and walked. Because it turned out Mr Collins and I had walked two kilometres from where we’d sat on the bench. Quite the distance. In addition to accosting innocent passersby with queries about the phone, I took my phone out of my back back. I searched ‘find my phone’ to find that even though two of my sons and Mr Collins could find MY phone, I could not find his. But then I received a call! As it was Mr Collins’s number, I answered cautiously. Was it a criminal? No! It was Mr Collins. After looking under every park bench (because he’d forgotten where we had sat), he’d found the phone!

Crisis averted except … We’d walked an extra four kilometres! Meaning our total for the day would be 32 kilometres, not 28. But we were happy to have the phone!

Having passed Newcastle and the outskirts, we moved into the lovely countryside of Northumberland. Our accomodation didn’t have a pub close by, so we bought bread, cheese and ham and that’s what we had for dinner (also wine to celebrate finding the phone and not expiring during the hike).

Ailments: My feet are my weak point on long hikes (a problem as they are attached to my legs). Currently I have ten hot poker toes attached to my feet, but I hope they will feel much better tomorrow. Nothing too grim, though I fear the second toe from each foot might lose a toe nail. Mr Collins is relatively well, but is groaning regularly in his sleep and mentioned ‘chafing’ on more than one occasion. We’re staying in a farm house in a lovely room with two large windows overlooking the fields close by. On the way here, we walked though fields and country paths framed by native flowers and handsome hedges. Plenty of animals too, particularly the gorgeous romance hearted dairy cattle.

And the wall! We saw snippets of wall and fort in the first few hours of our journey, but later this afternoon we saw an inspiring stretch of stones. I’ll give more details soon, but the AD 152ish original wall was planned to be 6 metres high and 3 metres wide, with a 6 metre deep ditch (with spikes) on one side of it. Every thousand steps (around a mile) there were forts and lookouts. Be gone, Scotts! We saw a magnificent portion of such a wall this afternoon, and I couldn’t believe how we were the only ones there, and could walk up and down its length - being so close the almost 2.000 year old stone wall was magical.

More tomorrow but I am exhausted from our adventures. On that, I’ve just remembered that while most Novocastrians were lovely (see phone drama, above), one man called me an f***ing idiot because he almost rode into me with his bike. I yelled back that he should have whistled (I said it a few times) and it was only when Mr Darcy looked discombobulated and yelled ‘use your bell’ that I appreciated I had committed a cycling faux pas.

Final photos are of our lovely stretch of wall, appropriately situated at Heddon On the Wall (a postcard picture village), and a celebratory cider at the end of our 32km journey.