mrbrianking

We have arrived. We are in Bowness. This is the end of Hadrian’s Wall. Through all the ups and downs. Through all the gates and styles. Through the fields and the woods, the stoney paths and muddy tracks. Through the sunshine and the rain (there was a little), and through the mighty winds. And finally, today, through the tide flooded road. We have come to the end of Hadrian’s Wall.

It’s been quite the adventure, a magical journey. We trundled into Bowness this afternoon and into the King’s Arms to celebrate. I’m happy that it’s done. And I’m sad that it’s over.  

I will now take the stone that I picked off the beach at Whitley Bay on the North Sea coast. The stone that I carried across the country. I will now take it and place it on the beach at Bowness, and give it to the Irish Sea.

We spent last night in a gorgeous old, old house in Brampton. It was a grey, stone built, Victorian house with enormous rooms, huge beds and an extra large bath tub. Wendy, who owns and runs it, is well known for the fabulous meals she cooks ……… every day except Sunday! Guess what day we were there……..! Oh well, she booked us into a lovely bistro where we were the only diners and where we received very special treatment and scrumcious food. Then we had a pint in the pub with Paul, who was getting up at 7am to catch a flight to Egypt. Nothing dull around here.Today the wind changed. It was not cold and it was dry but boy, it was windy. We had some very long stretches on high, exposed, pastureland, with that wind right on the nose. Every step felt like two. We are hardy folk however and just as well, for when we arrived at the only pub, in the only village, on the day’s journey …….. it was closed!!! A sign said, “Beware of the dog. And the cat isn’t trustworthy either”. 

Not in the least disheartened, well a little maybe, just a little, well ok a lot, a lot disheartened, we trooped on, along by the river Eden, past a lovely suburban area called Rickerby, through a beautiful park and into Carisle.

So here we are. In Carisle. Almost finished. Last day hiking tomorrow. Better make the most of it.

We’ve made it to Lanercost. Yes, we are two thirds of the way along Hadrian’s wall on our hike, from Whitley Bay on the North Sea coast at Newcastle, to Bowness-on-Solway on the Irish Sea. Lanercost is, it seems, very famous. It was, briefly, the capital of England. Yes. In 1306 to 1307, Edward 1 stayed here, during his last campaign and when he was mortally ill. For the period of his stay, it became the capital.Those days are long gone and the cattle who sit bored and watch walkers with sticks go by, have no recollection or interest in kilted Scots or their English foe. They just sit and stare and remind me of the song, “All the cattle are standing like statues. All the cattle are standing like statues. But that little brown heifer, whose name it is Daisy, thinks four legs good, two legs bad, three legs are crazy………”.  

We cross over styles.. And styles.. And styles. There are lots of styles. There are styles to enter fields. Styles to leave fields. Styles in fields …. because they had one left over. As we cross one style, there is a sign that reads, “Cows with calves be careful”, which I think is very good advice. Any little calf would find it hard to get over that style.

We’ve gotten to Lanercost. We’re making progress. We just had dinner in a Bistro that stayed open just for us and a pint in the Nags Head with Paul, who is off to Egypt tomorrow on holiday. Enjoy it Paul. I’m off to bed. We’ll walk again tomorrow.

We met Sally this morning. Sally’s not happy. Sally is a retired corporate executive, who has come here because her sister wants to hike. Sally has never hiked before. Yesterday was her first day. Her feet are sore. Her legs are sore. Her spirit is elsewhere but her aching body is here. She is not happy.We set out into a cool, sun washed morning. It is beautiful today. The early morning dampness on the grass is rapidly retreating, as the days warmth sets in. Today the wall portrays itself in it’s 2,000 year old glory. In truth, to call it a wall, oversimplifies what was built here. There was a ditch, then a stone wall, then a space along which an army could move, then a bank, followed by another ditch and finally a last bank. These Romans really knew how to do walls. Much of the stonework is gone, though on today’s route, great stretches of it are evident. But the ditch has run beside us all day every day and seems to reach way ahead seeking the western sea.

It was an uphill, down dale day, past castles and turrets and wall gates, along cliffs and crags, climbing and falling, rising and dropping, ever moving westwards. The sound of traffic has become very distant, replaced by the sound of cattle and birds and broken regularly by a cry from Jutta of, “How far is the pub?”.

We pass the Sycamore Gap, a spot made famous, apparently, by the Kevin Costner film of Robin Hood, (him again).  Near the end, we are unsure of the way back to the main road and ask a couple we mistakenly think are locals.  “Do you know if this is the track down to Once Brewed?”  “Haven’t a Scooby do, my friend”, comes the reply and leads on to ten minutes of chat about world travel and the general wonder of life.

At last we reach the Milecastle Inn for beer and dinner. What a great day. And Sally’s here too. She made it!

The day started with a light and misty rain. We stood in some shelter in Hedden-on-the-wall, fully dressed in rain gear and hoods up, and surveyed the damp surroundings. Well, rain or no rain, we couldn’t stand there all day, so buttoned up tight, we headed off. There is a large section of the wall still visible at Hedden, so that seemed like a good place to start. Some early morning dog-walkers stopped to wish us well.The route was a complete contrast to yesterday. It took us across beautiful pastureland, through fields of grazing cattle and sheep, who gazed enquiringly at us, as we passed. All the time following the wall. And although the stone wall itself was only to be seen occasionally and in small sections, (most of the stone was removed over the last 1,600 years for other building projects), the ditch or “Vallum” is very clear and is an integral part of the countryside, stretching as it does, into the distant west.

For those of you who thought that Robin Hood didn’t exist, or at least didn’t live in Northumberland, you have been proven to be wrong, as I found his pub. Indeed yes, the “Robin Hood” is right along the wall route and serves an excellent cup of coffee and a scone with cream and jam. The rain is gone. The way is clear. This Hadrian’s wall stuff is beginning to feel much better. We have arrived at Chollerford, for dinner and pints. I think an early night is in store.

The river Tyne’s no friend of mine.

I’ll work the yard no more.

I’ll take a trip on an outbound ship, 

To a distant sunny shore.
Well we started out on the Wall today from the fort of Segedunum. We did not see too much of the Wall. Very little, in fact. Because guess what, somebody built a city on top of it. Yes, the city of Newcastle now sits on top of the first stretch of Hadrian’s wall and the hiking route is diverted along the Banks and quays of the river Tyne. So we diverted. Not before getting our walking passports stamped at Segedunum. Then off along the river bank.

And very lovely it was. First we met an elderly man out with his dog. “Are you walking the Wall”, said he. “We are”. “Well good luck. You’ve only 84 miles to go”. “Right. Thanks for that”.  

So what do you do, if you have to walk 84 miles? Well, you do it one day at a time. Today brought us across the city. With the river as a handrail, the clouds clearing and the sun rising, as it followed us west, we spent a pleasant morning crossing this city, before reaching the rural outskirts by mid afternoon.  

Along the way we met with some dedicated followers of the Trinitarian Bible Society. They gave us of their wisdom and teaching. Quotations from Matthew and Isaiah. My favourites were: “He that hath no money, come ye buy, without money, buy wine”. And, “Eat ye what is good, and let you your soul delight itself in fatness”. Say no more. I’m a convert.

We are not alone. Others, though few, are also making the pilgrimage. We met three Americans from Boston and a second group of four, from an as yet unknown place of origin, possibly Scandinavian. We will crack their secret before the week is out.

The afternoon brought us through beautiful parkland, farmland and a golf course, before a final climb from the river to the town of Heddon-on-the-wall, where dinner and pints awaited in local pub. Ah, for the simple life.

I have been absent for some time from this blog and I do not know if my reader, (I believe that there is one), deserves an apology more for my absence or for my return. In either case, I have been brought back today by Hadrian. Hadrian???, I hear you ask. Who the hell is Hadrian?
Well, Hadrian was a Roman emperor, who, in the second century, ordered a wall to be built on his most northern frontier, to keep out the barbarians and to control the flow of people and goods into and out of, Roman controlled territory. Does this sound familiar at all? Are there echoes from history? Anyhow, Hadrian had his troops build a wall across the north of England, from the North Sea coast to the Irish Sea. It is located a little south of the modern England / Scotland border. The wall and it’s forts were occupied by Roman soldiers for over 300 years.

So I have come to trace it’s route, to walk it’s length and to see what remains of this fascinating historical monument. Over the next 6 days, accompanied by Vicki, Howi and Jutta, I will hike this route and explore the local legacy of Rome. I might also check out the local pubs and hostelries.  

We start out today from the Lighthouse at Whitley Bay, where the trail leaves from the England Coast Path. What better way to start, than with a couple of 99s? Are you coming along? Let’s go.

Picture a shopping centre. Picture the biggest shopping centre you know. Now extend it by a couple of miles. Expand to eight floors high and three deep. You are beginning to get a picture of Singapore. There are shops for miles. You can buy anything. From a seventy cent ice-cream, to a twenty thousand dollar watch. Actually lots of twenty thousand dollar watches. There must be a hundred shops selling them in this city alone. And in every other city in the world. Who buys all the twenty thousand dollar watches? If they all sell just one a day, that’s over two million a week, around the world. Everyone on the planet must have a twenty thousand dollar watch by now. I must have lost mine.

   
   
At the marina, there is a light show each evening. They shoot up fountains of water to create a mist screen, and project a picture light show onto this. Quite spectacular! This week, it was enhanced, by an iLight exhibition. Special light based exhibits all around the bay. One was arranged to pick out the angels, who inhabit the city. One projected images of birds and bees flying, plants growing, flowers blooming, onto the side of the Arts and Science building which, itself, is shaped like a lotus flower. 

   
   
The restaurant and pool area of the Marine Bay Hotel is shaped like a long, sleek ship, or wingless plane perhaps, and is supported on the three towers of the hotel. Fifty seven floors high! Maybe it’s supposed to look like a cricket wicket? The views are good from up there. And they make a nice gin and tonic! Speaking of drinks, we had to have a Singapore Sling in the Long Bar of Raffles hotel. Well we didn’t have to. Well we did really. 

  
  
Add all this to beautiful garden parks, sunshine and heat, street art, (even a little Salvador Dali), good food and rock ‘n’ roll until the early hours in the bars on Clarke Quay and ……. Well ……. That’s Singapore. 

   
   
Off home tonight. Dublin here we come. It’s been a while. Looking forward to it 

How far west can you go, without actually moving continent? In Europe you might say west Kerry. In Australia, you wouldn’t be far off, if you said the west coast of Rottnest Island, which is off the west coast of Perth, which is on the west coast of Australia…….. Are you following all this? Anyway, that’s where we go for a swim. The water seems cool, against the heat of the day, but in truth, it is pleasantly warm. It refreshes us after a few hours cycling along the coast road in the sun.    

  
 The island, once a prison colony, now a tourist haven, is very beautiful. We get a room, in what was once a reformatory for wayward boys, (I don’t think they had the pool and bar in those days).  

   
 We meet the quokka, a small friendly, marsupial, who lives here in great numbers. The quokka is very small, compared say, to the wallaby. The Dutch explorers, who originally came here, thought at first that they were rats, giving the island it’s name, rats nest. I kid you not!

   
   
Today, it is buzzing with holiday makers sailing, swimming, snorkelling, and generally having a good time. No better place to do it. There is even a nine hole golf course. We’ll leave that for another time. 

Perth is party town. Most definitely. We are out on a Saturday night, with my old friend Tommy Goggin from Limerick, who has lived here for the last twenty five years. The centre of town is hopping. At nine o’clock, people are queueing to get into clubs and bars. The streets are thronged, the restaurants packed, the party is in full swing. We start in Rosie O’Grady’s, where I have my first Australian pint of Guinness. OK, it wasn’t bad. We move on to the Síbín. You can probably see a pattern emerging here. We don’t stay long and finish up in a great jazz bar. Good music until it’s time to go home. Yep, Perth is party town.   
 We didn’t only party there. Well, we did mostly. But we also went to see the mint, the first place that gold sovereigns were minted outside of England, apparently. We also went to see, and hear, the Swan Bells, a wonderful set of church bells, brought over from London’s St Martin in the Field, and played specially for us I’m sure, on Sunday morning. We also visited the art gallery for an exhibition of modern art. It was ….. em ….. em, ….. em…, very interesting! But then we went to a Brazilian party. Yeah, that was good. Good music, drum band and Brazilian dancer. And good beer. Yes, it’s a party spot all right. 

   
 It’s also the most isolated city in the world. This from our most genial, volunteer, city host at the airport. I just thought I’d throw that in, in case you think it’s all about the party.