Walking Hadrian’s Wall

JULY 2022

And then there were two. It’s been a good few years since we did any significant hiking in the UK. And on this occasion, DB and Pete opted out, which meant it was just me and Sooty. But we were not to be deterred. The Romans conquered Britain, built their bloody great wall, and now we’re going to conquer that. By walking Hadrian’s Wall from one side of country to t’other.

The plan was quite simple: get a train from Newcastle across to Bowness-on-Solway in Cumbria; then turn around and walk back again.

Bowness to Carlisle; Carlisle to Walton; Walton to Once Brewed; Once Brewed to Chollerford; Chollerford to Heddon-on-the-Wall; and Heddon-on-the-Wall to Wallsend. Or something like that.

Most people – including Sooty’s guidebook – seem to walk east to west, as that is the way the Romans built the wall and the order in which the turrets and mile-castles are numbered. However the prevailing winds blow west to east, so we decided to go with the wind. Besides which, there’s a heart-warming feeling to be walking in the direction of home, rather than further away.

The Emperor Hadrian visited Britain in AD122, and gave the instruction for his great wall to be built, although to what end, seems to be the subject of some conjecture. While we’d normally assume it was a defensive barrier to keep the hairy-arsed Scots out, it may have been designed to keep the Brits in. Or it may have been a customs barrier through which to control trade. Or did Hadrian wake up one morning after a few too many vinos, and say “I said we’d do what?!”

What is clear however, is that there isn’t much of it left. The stone has gradually been secreted away over the years to construct nearby villages and houses. One source gave an estimate of about 10 miles of wall left along the path’s 84 miles. Let’s also be clear that Hadrian’s Wall is not the border between England and Scotland. There is the entire English county of Northumberland between the Wall and the actual border, which runs from Gretna in the West to Berwick-upon-Tweed in the east.

Now no offence to the good people of Bowness-on-Solway but it seems a rather ignominious place to start (or end) what visitcumbria describe as “the most important monument built by the Romans in Britain”. The village itself consists of around 100 houses, and the civil parish has a population of 1,126. And although it is recognised as the start/end of the wall, there isn’t actually any wall to be seen there. The west end of the Hadrian’s Wall Path is marked by a small pavilion/rain-shelter – which most certainly wasn’t built by the Romans. 

There is however the King’s Arms pub, in which weathered locals scornfully question the sanity of the motley crew of cheery hikers in their utilitarian walking gear, and tell chilling tales of naïve walkers mysteriously going missing out near the abandoned farmstead on dark, misty nights. 

Actually they don’t. It’s a charming pub which warmly welcomes visitors, serves a canny pint, and a bit of tucker. The barmaid helpfully knew the answer to 12-across in the Sunday Times crossword (Angela Lansbury; the answer that is, not the barmaid). We got chatting to three canny old fellers, Jim, Norman and Francis. Norman told us we’d pass his house en route; “It has two tractors outside”. And Francis was rather deaf. His sole contribution to the conversation was to shout “WHAT?” whenever he thought a conversational nugget had been thrown his way.

Day 1: Bowness-on-Solway to Carlisle

But arguably the best thing to do in Bowness is leave, and so we did, availing ourselves of a hearty breakfast beforehand, courtesy of our very lovely B&B. Then headed west towards Carlisle, taking in, or passing by, the hamlets of Port Carlisle, Glasson, Drumburgh, Bousted Hill, Longburgh, Burgh-by-Sands, and Beaumont, before following the River Eden south into the good city of Carlisle.

It was a pleasant but not challenging day. The scenery around Bowness is all estuary and mudflats, which then gives way to gentle hills and woodland as you go further inland. The path winds pleasantly alongside the River Eden, before passing the sewage works, the dry ski-slope and other delights of urban Carlisle. And incidentally, by this stage, we’d seen neither hide nor hair of this wall.

Norman Two Tractors and Francis WHAT? had recommended we visit the Caledonian pub in Carlisle, although I’m not sure what their recommendation says about them or the kind of pub they thought we’d like. Call me a snob but a host of fruit machines and lots of tv screens tuned into horse-racing are never good signs. And the Caley had more than its fair share of each.

It says something when a step across the road to the first of two cheek-by-jowl Wetherspoons was clearly a step up. It was 5pm on a Monday evening, and a group of lasses launched gamely into a chorus of Hey Jude, although they seemed to be struggling with the words.

And sadly we were too late to join the Quiz Night in t’other. Shame, I reckon we’d have done alright. “Which famous set of children’s books included Five Go To Kirrin Island’? After which it was time to head back to our cell at the Travelodge – which quite literally used to be a police station – and get some much needed rest.

Day 2: Carlisle to Walton

Day 2, and we’re up and both feeling surprisingly well. I had anticipated some aches and pains, and even the possibility of a longstanding tendinopathy problem rendering me immobile, but we were up and off with a veritable spring in our step.

Hadrian’s Way winds its way through some nice parks on the edge of Carlisle, runs alongside the River Eden for a while, then heads north at Low Crosby to pick up the route of Hadrian’s Wall at Wall Head. There is no wall to speak of in these parts, so the clue to its route is actually the vallum, a six-metre wide ditch that was constructed a few metres behind the wall, and effectively created a demilitarised zone immediately behind the wall.

This stage of the journey had been planned to take us from Carlisle to Walton, however we’d been unable to secure any accommodation at Walton, and were due to stay instead at the Sally (formerly the Salutation) in Irthington, some three miles west of Walton. Again, the walking was easy, and before 2pm we’d reached the village of Newtown. That meant we could either walk south a little to Irthington and spend the afternoon in the pub. Or walk on to Walton, then walk back to Irthington, and  hopefully get a lift back to Walton in the morning, so we could keep our daily distances on track. And remarkably, and cognisant of how damaging an afternoon in the pub could be to tomorrow’s efforts, we chose the latter. So that was two miles on to Walton, and two-and-a-half miles back to Irthington. Well, it seemed to make sense at the time. Still no sight of any bloody wall by the way.

The Sally at Irthington. The rooms were lovely – nice touches like huge luxuriant towels, posh toiletries and Nespresso coffee machines – but the restaurant and bar try too hard to be something else. What you want is a nice comfortable country pub; and what you get is something that wouldn’t seem out of place in bourgeois Chelsea (which I suspect they’d take as a compliment). That said, the food, and the proprietor’s choice of wine, were excellent, even if two crusty hikers in shorts and t-shirts supping fine wine did seem a little incongruous. 

Day 3: Walton to Walltown

And come the morning, could we get a lift back to Walton? Could we hell. There are no buses running around here at all, and the proprietor didn’t offer despite our none-too-subtle hints. So we clocked another three miles just getting back to where we finished off last night.

And then, a further three miles east, at Hare Hill, a precious segment of a mighty wall. Apparently most of the wall-stone around here was carted off to build a priory at nearby Lanercost in the 12^th and 13^th centuries, so it’s a mystery as to why this fragment remains, but remain it does, much to my satisfaction. And after that, there are numerous turrets, mile-castles, relatively lengthy sections, and the sizeable fort at Birdosland. Run by English Heritage we tried to get in using our family National Trust card, with Sooty pretending to be a small, Asian woman, but to no avail. We settled for a cup of tea instead.

And then it was on to Gilsland, which bestrides the Cumbria-Northumberland border, and meant that we were back in our beloved home county. Unfortunately, at around 2pm on a Wednesday afternoon, we could find not a single place open for food, and thus went without lunch. (The fact that I’d shunned the option of sandwiches at Birdosland as they looked shit was politely ignored.) So we continued east, hungry, past Thirlwall Castle, a few more turrets and milecastles, and on to Walltown.

Our accommodation this evening was slightly off the trail again, so we cut off the trail at Walltown and trudged three miles through the pouring rain to Haltwhistle. The rain had been on and off throughout the day, as had the waterproof jacket, but by now it was very definitely on. Whether it was the rain, or walking downhill – which is not as comfortable as it sounds – but they seemed like a long two miles. A wet and tiring end to a long  day. 

Checked into the Old Schoolhouse B&B, then immediately headed off to the Manor House pub for dinner, a few beverages and a spot of Wimbledon on the telly. Well, it would have been a bit of Wimbledon had we been able to turn the tv on. The staff didn’t know how to operate it, and handed the controls over to me. I somehow managed to inadvertently turn on the pa system instead and get some thumping house music going – which no one, including myself, particularly wanted. Andy Murray lost anyway.

Day 4: Walltown to Chollerford

Day 4, and the kind owner of the guesthouse – who also turned out to be a muso and vinyl junkie – gave us a lift back up to Walltown so we could resume our walk from the appropriate spot. And it is here that the walk really comes into its own. Right from the start the scenery is stunning as we scale Walltown Crags, Cawfield Crags, and pass landmarks including Thorny Doors and Bogle Hole. Then Steel Rigg, Peel Crags and Crag Lough – which together create the most emblematic vision of Hadrian’s Wall winding its way across the rugged Northumbrian landscape. And of course, the iconic Sycamore Gap, with its lone tree and perfect silhouette. They like their crags around here – Highshield Crags, Hotbank Crags, Cuddy’s Crags, Housestead Crags, Kennel Crags, Sewingshields Crags.

The landscape is undulating, constantly going up and down, constantly twisting and turning, constantly watching where you put your feet – all of which is a damned sight more draining than simply walking on flat and even terrain. But the scenery is just spectacular. The elevation of the various crags afford views over miles and miles of countryside, dotted with hamlets, farms, woods, lakes. It’s a sea of green. The silence is near-complete, save only for birdsong and bleating sheep. It is absolutely stunning. Northumberland at its magnificent best.

We stopped to eat our sandwiches somewhere then it was on and on, ever eastwards. We passed Housesteads – the most complete example of a Roman fort in Britain – with nary a sideways glance. As usual around 3pm in the afternoon the legs became increasingly tired, and each mile felt longer and longer. Past Carraw, and the ancient Roman temple at Mithraeum, Black Carts Farm and Walwick Hall. And finally, finally, into Chollerford.

Never before in the history of mankind has a pint of lager been more appreciated. It was a proper Ice Cold in Alex moment, except that while Sir John Mills took a long look at his beer, savouring every second of it, we barely even paused to look at ours before they were drained and a second round ordered. It would have been tempting to move our aching limbs not one inch further except that the George was another of those places that seemed to be trying too hard to be something else. A cocktail bar instead of a pub and no bar menu to speak of. They seemed to be aiming for a grander dining experience.

So we took a short walk up to the Crown Inn, in Humshaugh, to meet old school friend Gwyn Stephenson, who lives in the village and who assured us that The Crown is a great little village pub. And she ain’t wrong. So much so that we sat there until closing time, getting very deservedly intoxicated. Incidentally, Gwyn and I used to sit together in O level maths class way back in the mid-eighties. Despite our best efforts we failed to ruin each other’s academic progress and both achieved commendable grades – rather to our own surprise.

According to the map, we walked around seventeen miles today, but using some formula which converts the steps counted by my phone (42,660) into miles, it was probably the equivalent of twenty miles. So I’ll take the twenty, thank you.

Day 5: Chollerford to Newburn

Day 5, Chollerford to Newburn, is different to the previous in so many ways. Although the distance is similar, the terrain is relatively flat and the walking so much easier. There’s a lot of walking alongside fields and roads and none of the stunning scenery from yesterday. So much so that we felt comfortable stopping at the Robin Hood pub near Corbridge for lunch and a couple of beers. And stopping again at the Three Tuns in Heddon-on-the-Wall for another beer, before completing the last few miles down the hill to Newburn, on the banks of the Tyne. That said, those last few miles seemed interminable.

But there is beer at the end of the tunnel, in the shape of the Keelman’s Lodge, “with its range of fine ales, brewed in the traditional way in the Big Lamp Brewery next door”. I tried one then reverted to the San Miguel.

We walked for part of the day with some members of a group of past and present Royal Marines, most of whom had suffered some kind of disability as a consequence of their service. They were walking as part of their rehabilitation and raising money for their charity along the way. Many of them were suffering from PTSD, and I cannot even begin to comprehend how debilitating and life-changing that must be. Good luck to them. 

Day 6: Newburn to Wallsend

Day 6, and it was a day I had contemplated opting out of. There are sections of Hadrian’s Wall visible on Westgate Road in Newcastle, so I’d expected the footpath to follow that route; and I had little desire to walk through downtown Throckley or past the burger joints and betting shops of Benwell. Hadrian’s Way however follows the banks of the River Tyne, which is a different prospect altogether. 

The riverbank at Newburn feels quite rural – the Tyne fat and full as it flows slowly through woodland areas. The quayside at Scotswood has been revitalised with numerous information boards tracing its industrial past and Lord Armstrong’s armament factories. And then you enter the city itself; passing under the Redheugh Bridge, the High Level Bridge, the Swing Bridge, the iconic Tyne Bridge, and the Millennium Bridge. We stopped for coffee on the Quayside, sitting in deckchairs, gazing up at the bridge that has come to symbolise this proud city.

And then on past Byker, St Anthony’s and Walker. And even here the trail is better than expected, shielded from the urban sprawl by a generous line of woods. That said, industrialisation has left its legacy with numerous signs warning that the foreshore remains toxic from the leadworks that used to thrive in the area.

Then into the appropriately named Wallsend, and there appeared a sign. “Segedunum.” And that meant the end of Hadrian’s Way.

The fort at Segedunum was built around 122AD, was in use as a garrison for approximately 300 years, then abandoned around 400AD. For centuries the area remained as open farmland, and by 1884, the whole fort had disappeared under terraced housing built for the nearby collieries. It was rediscovered and partially excavated in 1929, and in the 1970s the terraced houses covering the site were demolished to permit its full excavation.

As we sat in the car-park waiting to be picked up, we met a feller who had travelled down from Scotland to see Segedunum. His parents and most of his family had lived in the houses that occupied the site before being forcibly relocated to permit its excavation. He wasn’t impressed. “It’s just a bloody field with some lines on it. And there’s no cafe or anything. The area’s awful. Bloody glad I left.”

But his disappointment couldn’t dampen our satisfaction at having completed a very long walk. Eighty four miles according to the sign, ninety miles in my estimation given the extra miles we walked at various times. Bowness-on-Solway to Wallsend. The Roman Wall. And we’d walked the whole bloody way.

And…the bonus section

There are more photos available in Hadrian’s Wall in Photos

And for anyone who is interested in what to pack for such a walk, the packing list is available in Hadrian’s Wall – The Packing List