Day 6 - 28.2 km. Old gates and binoculars

Mr Darcy and I are not ‘life goals’ kinds of people, but it was lovely to complete the walk from the East to the West of England along the Hadrian’s Wall route. Nine years ago, we crossed England from West to East while doing the Coast to Coast walk (that was a wider section down south and 320km over 15 - I blogged then too and should look back to compare feet stories!).

Today was a varied and surprisingly jaunty day of walking. Carlisle, our starting point, is a beautiful town, as is the surrounding Cumbrian countryside which is flanked by the River Eden. The walking from the fields to the sea was mostly on level ground, but it was a solid seven hours of walking, an hour of rest in total, so another long day on our feet. My feet are dodgy but they earn a rest tomorrow (and possibly for the next year).

There’s little of the wall to see from Carlisle to the end point of the wall - Bowness-on-Solway, a small village (with a very long history!) near the coast. And this is the thing. The Roman’s built and manned Hadrian’s Wall from AD122 until they left in AD410, but there was so much history to follow. Scottish kings, English kings, the Normans and Saxons, invasion, retreat, invasion, retreat, truces and kings all over the place. Pictured here is a church in Solway which was built from stone from Hadrian’s wall (the old castle to the right is a fine example of that) and there are so many examples of the use of the Hadrian’s wall in other constructions. And why wouldn’t there be? England was invaded by the Romans and the wall was built to keep those to the north of the wall out. No one either side of the wall had reason to keep it as it was. Quite the opposite, as the English wanted more territory over the wall, and the Scots (and their predecessors) wanted more territory too.

Highlights of the walk? Mr Darcy, obviously. He’s walked at my pace during the day, and I’ve solidly supported him as he’s slept off the burden at night. Sometimes he pretends to be more sore than he actually is, which is really quite sweet of him. We’ve seen some wonderful sights and laughed a lot in the past six days, just as we have for the past forty-five years. Other highlights have been the places we’ve stayed. It’s always a little random on these walks - we choose where we want to stay before the accomodation is selected because we want to be on the route and we’re on foot - but last night we stayed in the Old Rectory of a church built from the wall, and a couple of nights ago we were in Lanercost in a house in the (literal) shadows of an 11th Century Abbey.

As I mentioned in my last blog post, we got very wet yesterday. Thank goodness our host at the guest house was kind enough to put on the strip heaters so we could dry our clothes and boots! Not all hosts are as accomodating - the host the night before gave us 45 minutes of heating time. Mind you, we used her hairdryer to the point of exhaustion - ours and the dryer’s. And we also took the hosts hot chocolate sachets because we were cranky (we’ll drink them in the Cotswalds). While emptying our sopping wet backpacks, I found Mr Darcy’s store of secret stash. Why was it secret? Because I always tell him he carries too much (including one million litres of water as if we were hiking across the Sahara Desert and he was a camel) but he refuses to let even one millilitre go. Secret stash as follows:

Binoculars that, over the past ten years of numerous hikes, we have not used once.

A device like a Swiss Army knife that is VERY heavy. Granted, we have used it twice. The first time was in Scotland, when it was used to cut a hole in the back of my boot to relieve pressure on my heel. The second time, it was used to cut tape to bind my foot after my boot broke in half. We used it again yesterday to sort out my bandaids. Hmmm. Maybe that device should stay.

Insect repellant we have not used at all. Though we are afraid of midges - flying insects that congregate in their thousands and suck your soul from your body (possibly an exaggeration, but they are tiny and extraordinarily annoying and they bite). When we hiked in Scotland three years ago, this repellant was an absolute essential in the evenings. On reflection, maybe the repellant should stay too.

Water. Yes, we need back up, but there is TOO MUCH.

Another reflection. Fathers and teenaged sons. We’ve seen a number of this combination and found the fathers ridiculously chirpy to make up for the truculence and clear reluctance to spend 6 - 8 days hiking with their fathers. We’ve been there/ done that with teenaged sons, and so admire the fathers for their perseverance because there are bound to be so many times when the bond is strengthened one way or the other. We sat with one of these pairings at breakfast this morning and the dad (possibly lightheaded like we are from extreme exertion) fumbled over his juice and spilt it on the table. He laughed at himself, his son laughed with him as they mopped up, and it was a lovely shared moment of comaraderie to witness.

Encouraging words from the trail:

‘You can do it, Granny!’ Our grandchildren are not with us, but these are words they sometimes use (when they don’t want to get out of the pram and walk, for example, and I am pushing them up a steep hill. Or when there is a particularly tricky section of Lego to build. Or when I come to a cash only bread shop and they want finger buns and I am burrowing for coins in my handbag. Or, worst of all, when a toy needs new batteries and I have to unscrew the back of it with a fingernail. ‘This is team work, isn’t it Granny?’ is an alternative encouraging phrase. Mr Darcy (out of range so I can’t swing from his backpack and make him fall over) uses these to make me energetically cranky.

‘I could carry you.’ This is an offer Mr Darcy makes. It takes our minds off the pain of the last few kilometres as we think of how this could possibly be achieved. Generally we decide he could maybe, at a push, do five metres with me on his back (while carrying both backpacks on my back) before stumbling and putting us both into a ditch. I also work out ways I could help him if he collapsed. I think rolling him down a road would work, but he worries about gravel rash.

Fake flower arrangements in Bed & Breakfast establishments. I wish I’d taken a photo of more of them. Maybe there’s a thought that with all the lovely gardens in England, every B & B needs them in every room. I wish I could tell hosts that they are not the same as fresh flowers. And as, understandably, it’s a hassle to pick the flowers for every room, they should simply direct all guest to look out of the window to the glorious gardens outside. We’ve met some lovely hosts along the way and also other hikers. Everyone is footsore which gives us common ground, and there are many stories to share. We all go to bed very early!

One final thought: New things can be great, but old is pretty wonderful. As proof, the image above is of a modern kissing gate, and an older one (though many are much older!). Gates are reflective of aging in many ways. The catches get creaky, the timber is aged and has scars, but that’s okay. Same with walking. Pace, style and distance doesn’t matter. When you walk, feet on the ground, breathing fresh air, you reflect on times gone by and anticipate future adventures.

Day 5 - 25.5km. Rain, ruins and sore toes

We were very happy to arrive at our accomodation at 4pm today - a hiking earl.y mark as we’ve been doing longer stretches in the past four days. The distance was quite long enough though, particularly as it rained for the first six hours. Granted, it didn’t rain in the seventh hour, but by then our boots were sodden and so were we. We’ve reflected on the rain quite a lot today, and have narrowed down the issues.

Firstly, it’s slippery on rocks and in the mud. This slows us down.

Secondly, there is nowhere to sit in the rain. Yes, there’ll be shelter under a tree, but putting down a jacket to sit on will mean it becomes soaked through, which isn’t very good. And hiking through the fields in the path of a wall built over 1900 years ago means there aren’t sheltered spots or coffee shops to stop at on the way. On the four occasions we’ve found a pub on the trail, we’ve stopped twice for a cider (we would have stopped the other two times for a pint too, but the pubs are closed early in the mornings)

Thirdly, I should not have put my extra layer around my waist (see menopause in Day 4 post) thinking it would be handy when the temperature dropped because when the temperature dropped, my layer was sodden. Not only impractical, but heavy.

Fourthly, it’s summer in England so why are we forming condensation when we speak?

Fifthly, the sheep and cattle and everyone else look miserable when it’s raining.

On the bright side, the rain today made us terribly grateful that we’d had magnificent clear skies on the previous two days, when we saw the best of Hadrian’s wall. Particularly as we walked up and down so many steps which is so much more difficult to do on slippery surfaces. On this topic …

Boots: After having ‘issues’ with the second toe of my right foot on day one, and my left foot on day two, my toes and I had come to a compromise. I’d wrap them up in anti-blister things to cushion them (even though the real problem isn’t blisters as such, it’s that the toe nails are separating from the toes, the blister things lessen the pressure). In eternal gratitude, my toes agreed not to be too sore (until they grew numb) which would enable me to continue to walk. This compromise has worked very well on days three and four, but today Mr Big Toe On The Left butted in. This could have been related to damp boots, but I felt twinges and, balanced on one leg and using Mr Darcy as a door jam come crutch, I took off my boot and took out my orthotic (this changes the position of my foot). This worked for only about 100m by which time it was clear I needed more ammunition - apply an anti-blister thing (or six) and wrap my toe in tape. By now, the rain was well and truly a downpour and it would be another mile or so until we had shelter enough to do the job properly because I needed a dry surface.

But then I had an idea! Thanks to lovely Heather Reyburn, an author friend who had told me that she could no longer wear toe socks for hiking (I have given up on them too - had to filch Mr Darcy’s woollen socks without toes) but wrapped her toes in sheep wool. We’d actually seen clumps of wool in hiking shops in Sydney, but as it cost a fortune for a handful of stuff I could find in the paddock any day of the week, I had dismissed it until Heather suggested it. Very happily, I’d seen a particularly clean clump of wool (unusual - it’s generally got sheep dung or burs or mud attached) the previous day and entreated Mr Darcy to put it in his pocket so I could clean it when I was home (‘Take that, expensive hiking shop!’ thought I). Anyway, Mr Darcy got it out of his pocket and I shoved it in my boot as a short term measure and it stopped the pain all day! I didn’t dare take my boot off until we were at our guest lodge to look at it (don’t tamper with what is working) but when I finally removed my sock I saw there was a blister. So this toe has been taped up like the others, but I will never leave on a hike without a clump of sheep’s wool again, and will investigate starting by wrapping my toes in wool as a preventative measure. Hugs to Heather.

Food: We stay in B&B’s or guesthouses or very small hotels, so breakfast is included. What to eat for seven days to give one strength? I have NO IDEA why, but I tend to ask for baked beans (which I never eat at home) and bacon. And a hash brown if available. Also copious cups of tea and fruit if it is there. It stops the need for lunch (though we have many snacks and Mr Darcy carries my thermos of tea). Mr Darcy tends to have a ‘traditional English breakfast’ as pictured, but will revert to muesli, a banana and Greek yoghurt for the 357 days of the year that he isn’t hiking extraordinary distances, so I am hoping this is a balanced life diet overall.

Back to the wall. We saw a lot less of it today. In fact, we saw none of it, though did walk on top of the foundations (now covered by grass) and also saw parts of the wall that had been deliberately covered up to protect it. In Cumbria, unlike Northumberland, the stone isn’t as strong (sorry for inaccurate quality of stone but Mr Collins currently unavailable (asleep) and the wall deteriorated quite quickly (also it was nicked by landholders to build walls for the paddocks and houses and barns, which also led to its disappearance from the landscape). We also saw Vellums which are like a gully - if the northern celts climbed the ditch and the wall and got to the other side, they could be ambushed by the Romans in a second and third line of ditches.

As we saw less wall today, we spent more time looking at churches (one pictured is a wonderful 11th century Abbey and later a 12 and 13th century church - we stayed (just across the graveyard) at the old Abbey last night. The other pictures (wheat in the foreground) are of our entry to Carlisle, a gorgeous town only 25km from the east coast of England - and the place our journey ends!

Day 3 - 26.5km. A glorious wall and marriage

Hiking with Mr Darcy after 40 years of marriage, and five years of law school courtship before that, is a fascinating social experiment. Also known as survival. There is no way it could happen without respect, support, tolerance, compassion and a great deal of laughter (a challenge to my pelvic floor at the best of times).

Speaking of which, weeing on the trail is not only a physical but a personal challenge. There aren’t any toilets which is a wonderful thing as the landscape is magnificent, but Mr Darcy insists that only drinking thermos lids of tea all day is not good for my hydration (more on hydration later). Men have it easy of course: stand behind a tree and shoot. Women have to remove various items and squat. Facing a tree, always a chance of someone straying off the path (assuming there is a path) and thinking the sun is sinking early. Facing away from a tree, there’s the chance of making eye contact with an intruder and tumbling backwards in fright. Mr Darcy has been schooled in what to do, stand ten respectful metres away and defend my right to privacy (fight, offer lollies, talk about different types of mortars used by the Romans, anything really) if anyone comes along, but it’s still a very stressful experience.

Back to travelling compatibility. Compromise is essential. Mr Darcy has proven himself to be something of an expert and a fascinated (if not always fascinating) commentator on Roman drainage and sewerage. He also spots rocks that ‘clearly come from the wall, a fort, a milestone or a turret’ which are to me just … rocks. It’s interesting, but can be tiring when we have to walk extra distances to follow the line of stones (which represents the sewerage system in AD122). Then again, Mr Darcy was the general counsel of engineering companies for many years, so I think that might have gone to his head. I’m sorry I have none of Mr Darcy’s photos in this regard, but much as he walks with the determination, strength, perseverance and reliability of a robot, he falls asleep at night so can’t send them to me. I might do another blog post on ‘things that don’t interest me much but might interest others’ at the end of our trip and include these photos.

Of interest to me are plants, birds, animals and the landscape (not just geologic and volcanic and other formations: see stones and Mr Darcy above). But … I couldn’t do this walk without Mr Darcy as he carries his weight in water and warm jackets ‘just in case’. He also walks to the bar to buy cider at the end of the day when I cannot walk one more step. I cheer him on, of course, and tell him a lot of useful information about the Romans.

As to our walk today, much as other people’s holiday snaps can be a trail, the photos say it all (actually only 5% of it). The weather was perfect and at every turn there was the stretch of the wall, or the promise of it, or the scattered stones to show where it was: Northumberland is just marvellous. The image above of a path with greenery either side is a spot where we actually walked on the wall. There are a lot of opportunities for this, but I don’t feel comfortable doing it unless there are no other options on the trail. As to the foundations of the wall (over the past 1600 years, many farmers and others have helped themselves to the stones above ground) sheep and cattle wander over the wall all the time!

The Roman soldiers and legions and the workers for whom they were responsible (more on historical facts tomorrow) either dug 6 metre deep trenches/ ditches to one side of the wall (like a steeply walled moat), or they built the wall alongside natural ridges in the landscape. So anyone wanting to move to Roman occupied land had to make their way through the trenches and then climb the wall. The Day 3 hike was up high on the ridges so the views were particularly glorious. On the dark side, when the breeze was strong, we kept well clear of the edges because it would be frighteningly easy to tumble to one’s death at any moment.

Once Brewed, the town and pub that marked the end of today’s hike, is on the trail of the Hadrian’s wall walk, but our accommodation for the night is at Haltwhistle, a lovely little town that dates back to pre-Roman occupation. Our room is actually three rooms (two bedrooms, a large living room and dining table for eight) at the top of three flights of stairs in a tiny and ancient hotel. Whenever we are randomly given a lovely room like this, I remember how often we crammed ourselves into tiny spaces with six children because it was too expensive to do anything else. This morning, waking up and looking at the towering ceilings and fireplaces was wonderful.

Rain is scheduled for our walk to Lanercros today, so Mr Darcy’s rain gear might come in handy. I will also take an umbrella because it is such a hassle putting rain gear on if the rain is stop and go. The rain might also limit the incendiary warmth I feel in my feet while walking up hills (or walking on the level or walking down the hills, come to think of it). My feet no worse yesterday though, which was a blessing. And my new favourite woollen socks are airing on the rack in the bathroom.

Finally, I am in too much of a hurry to read this missive over (Mr Darcy has morphed into Mr Collins and is telling me to ‘Make haste! Make haste!’) so apologies for a non edited post today!

Day 2 - 26.2km. Countryside, hiking, ailments

Todays hike was only 26 km, but following on from yesterday’s 36km hike, it was a long if fulfilling day walking from Haddon on the Wall to Chesters Roman Fort

The hike:

We saw beautiful Northumberland countryside (with more to come in the next few days of hiking). This section of the walk is sometimes criticised because it closely follows a road, but as a great deal of that road is built over the foundations of Hadrian’s wall, there wasn’t much choice. In any case, most of the time we climbed over styles and through quirky gates (including kissing gates which are hard to explain but are a very useful type of gate). We also saw a lovely bird viewing area, not that we saw many birds.

The path is comprehensively marked (an acorn marks the spot) and England’s ‘right to roam’ over private property, combined with the national trail status of Hadrian’s Wall, mean that it’s permissible to walk though fields of farm animals and crops to walk from the east to west of England.

Side note: Most people walk from west to east on this trail, partly because of the tailwind that blows in this direction. We’ve seen the sense of this in the past two days as we’ve been walking into a headwind. Luckily the weather has been excellent (arguably too warm) but in the rain the headwind would prove more difficult.

Memorable moments from the day.

We’d only been walking for half an hour when a passing motorist stopped his car and wound down thewindow.

Woman passenger: You look like people who know where they are going!

Man driver: Do you know where we can see Hadrian’s Wall?

Me: Go back a few miles to Heddon on the Wall where you’ll find a handsome foundation and stretch of wall.

Woman: We’ve been there! We couldn’t find it!

Me: Walk through a narrow gate just past the garage and bus stop. I promise it’s there.

The thing is, some areas are better signposted than others, and some remnants (in a sea of stone walls) are difficult to find. We have an App and a map, but it’s easy enough to miss a turn off – particularly after a full day of walking. We are getting good at spotting the ditches that ran in front of the wall. When I am less weary I will explain in more detail (possibly making your weary too), but the wall was initially designed to be three metres wide in the foundations, and six metres tall. But there was also a six metre ditch in front of the wall to make it even more difficult to get through to ‘the Roman side’ of the wall. Trouble was, since the wall was built (it was started in AD122) and the Roman’s left a few hundred years later, the stones have been used to make farmhouses and walls and many other things.

Physical condition of walkers:

I’m reasonably certain that the second toe of each of my feet will lose their toenails as, with every step for a few hours today, it felt like my toenail was being lifting from my toe by a Machiavellian being, and my toes are now swollen all around the nail. I’ve been afflicted with this condition in other hikes and have put many preventative then remedial plasters and everything else on my toes. Orthotics come in and go out, as do many swear words. Tomorrow I’ll bring runners on the hike. But likely nothing much can be done. I don’t get blisters except under my toenails - the movement of my foot on the path seems to be too much for my second toes. On the bright side, when hiking in Scotland three years ago I had a big toe problem and that was worse!  Anyway, it only hurts when I walk …

Tonight, after my glorious shower (we are staying in a lovely B&B (pictured below) that dates back to the 1500s, I prepared Mr Darcy’s bath by running the cold water first and submerging my feet in the icy depths. Tomorrow Mr Darcy will carry not only ten thousand gallons of water (he is like a camel, I swear) and my thermos of tea, but also my spare footwear so I can swap shoes. I carry our food for the day, a much easier task as we eat it as we go. I also carry a chap stick and band aids.

How is Mr Darcy? Annoyingly perky when walking, but half-dead as soon as we stop. Sleeps like a bear in hibernation. Bright again the next morning. As I said, annoying.

Hike highlights:

A lovely stretch of wall in a paddock, a fort, and cattle climbing up a bitumen hill (Why? Because cows are curious creatures). Will find a picture of this tomorrow). Lots of sheep and the occasional horse (which I must photograph), but mostly the wonderful Northumberland countryside. Also a highlight, we didn’t potentially lose a phone.

Day 1 - 36km. 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.