Gran at Hemmick Beach

 

We have been staying in Cornwall, paying visits to my parents and going cliff walking.

Being high season, it was difficult to find accommodation.  By chance, we ended up in Charlestown, close to where both of my father’s parents came from, and near to Holmbush Cemetery where they are buried.  I would have liked to visit their graves, but my parents do not recall the location of their plots.

Instead, I pursued remembrance in a more active way. My gran, Winifred, grew up at Gorran where her father was headmaster at the little school which lies between Gorran Church Town and Gorran Haven.

Cornish author, Ann Treneer named it ‘The Schoolhouse in the Wind’ and we visited it.   The original building burnt down in 1967 but the current school is thriving with an ‘outstanding’ from Ofsted and its own swimming pool.  We walked the tall-hedged, butterfly-fluttering lanes that my grandmother once walked.  I wondered what she would have thought of the dense crowd of tourists at Gorran Haven, making the harbour into some sort of human soup.

When I saw Dad again, he said that Gran told him her favourite beach was Hemmick, near the Dodman Point.  He himself had never been there, and I hadn’t either.

The next day, Nigel and I walked to Hemmick. It turned out to be lovely, with tongues of slatey rock running into a shallow sea, excellent for bathing.  On the sand were broken sea-smoothed shards of Venus shell and dog cockle which had a sculptural quality.  While Nigel swam, I did a water colour where, once again, I failed to capture the Cornish rocks.

I don’t know what Gran used to enjoy doing at Hemmick – I don’t believe she could swim, although one of the scant photos does show her paddling.  Perhaps it was somewhere her family went for a picnic.  Perhaps she just enjoyed the view of the distant Lizard, and the regular hush of the sea. 

However, for me, a pilgrimage to Hemmick was a way to stand for a moment in her shoes, or at least in her bare feet.

Hadrian's Wall - A Cast of Thousands

When we set off to walk Hadrian’s Wall, one of the things we were looking forward to was conversations with strangers.

As a Celt and a Christian, encounters where two people who do not know one another pause and talk to one another feel sacred to me. 

We were blessed to meet Fenella, on the day we arrived.  She helped us find the bus to Bowness and gave us a wealth of information.  If not for her, we might never have heard how mighty Edward I, Hammer of the Scots, died and lay in state in the little church at Burgh by Sands while his voracious court ate the local community out of house and home, biding time until Edward II was finally located and brought there.

As we left Carlisle, by way of a large park, a Swedish man carrying binoculars told us that close by that spot had been the Roman fort of Stanwix. Although nothing now remained, it had been the largest fort on the Wall, manned by a massive cavalry regiment called the Ala Petriana, ready to ride out and quell the tribes of the troublesome West.

We also met various other walkers, although exchanges were often superficial – how far we had come and the weather outlook.  One young couple we encountered several times.  Good-looking, tall and tanned, their accents were Southern European. We met them first when they were waiting at a gate, hoping for company to help them cross a field of over-friendly horses.  Whenever we saw them again, they always seemed to be just ahead of us, admirable as the woman was walking Hadrian’s Wall in flip-flops.

The hosts at our Bed and Breakfast stops also had tales to tell. One couple even had the story of how a Mr and Mrs Johnson had booked in for a weekend and they found themselves unexpectedly playing host to Boris and Marina.  It was interesting to hear about how their businesses worked and at St Marys Vale, Lanercost, we particularly enjoyed meeting both Deborah (pictured) and her extraordinary coloured Ryeland sheep. 

One of the most memorable stops was with Les at The Old Repeater Station, near Housesteads.  After the toughest day, we felt welcome in his book-lined home, alone in many miles of wild pastureland. (The Repeater Station was originally built to relay telephone signals.)  

And it was Les we met again on our very last day.  Pascoe had joined us in Newcastle for the end of our walk, and we were in the Hancock Museum, just looking at the very long scale model of Hadrian’s Wall and congratulating ourselves on our achievement.  As we pointed out the Old Repeater Station, Les himself appeared.  ‘I’m having a day off and I’ve brought my grandson to the museum!’

Were we somehow living through a Hollywood movie where all the significant characters contrive to reappear for a heart-warming last scene?  We looked about us, half-expecting to see Fenella and the Swedish guy.

But no, it was just Les.  Nice to see him again though.

 

 

Hadrian's Wall in full colour

View from the Old Repeater Station

When I blog, I have to decide what I think about something.  Writing helps me pick out the stories that have happened during my week.

I also like to paint as it helps me see what is around me better.  I probably never would sit and simply stare at the view for a whole hour if I didn't have a sketch pad on my knee.  When we were packing for our long hike, we had to minimise.  I left out my shampoo and hairbrush, put I couldn't leave behind paints and paintbrush.

I didn't paint Hadrian's Wall itself.  There was too much walking to be done.

But when we got to the B&B each night, I had a chance to capture an impression of the landscape.

St Mary Vale, near Lanercost

North Tyne from the George at Chollerford

North Tyne from the George at Chollerford

From the Robin Hood at East Wallhouses

Scotland and the Solway from Drumburgh, painted in the rain.

Hadrian's - west to east - out on the toon

We walked Hadrian's Wall west to east rather than, as many do, east to west.

There were a number of reasons:

Logical - the place now named Wallsend lies at the far east of the wall, near the mouth of the Tyne.

Practical - great transport links would get us home easily from Newcastle.

Emotional - the Tyneside conurbation was where Nigel was born, where we began our family, and where Nigel's mother still resides. Walking there felt like going home.

But on the Saturday evening, we also remembered that it was a great place to go out on the toon.  Pascoe had joined Nigel and me for the very end of our journey and from our hotel near the Baltic, we crossed the Tyne via the Millennium Bridge. We had a drink in a pop-up bar, then returned south of the river for an excellent Indian meal at Raval's.  After that, we strolled up to the bar of the Sage concert hall for a digestif mint tea.

Even in the morning, it was all still going on as runners for The Great North Run 10k assembled outside our hotel. 

What better place than Newcastle and Gateshead to celebrate the fact that in our sixtieth year we had walked Hadrian's wall? 

Kittiwakes nesting on the Tyne Bridge

Hadrian's Wall - Day 9 - Wylam to Wallsend.

Today is the first time we made a major change to Nigel's well-crafted schedule.  Armed with yesterday's knowledge that we now walked faster, we decided to see if we could complete the walk in one day, rather than two.

Hadrian's path took us off the route of the wall, and along the bank of the Tyne  - a much more winding course but one where we were less likely to get run over or inhale traffic fumes.

We marched straight past all manner of interesting industrial archaeology, intent on getting to Segedunum fort at Wallsend in time to have a look around before it shut.

Pascoe met us on the riverbank near the Redheugh Bridge in Newcastle. He had intended to start our walk with us, but a Covid scare had prevented him.   Instead, he would help us finish it. 

We stopped at Greggs on the buzzing Quayside - a sit down meal would take too long. 

We fell in step with some younger walkers supporting teenagers with cancer - a chiropractor and his patients. Half their number had already dropped out and it made us proud that we had stayed the course. Although my knee was certainly twingeing again. 

We arrived at Wallsend, Segedunum Fort, at 14.30 and we identified the point at which the Romans had sent a branch wall down into the Tyne, marking the end of Hadrian's Wall. 

Even so, I asked museum staff for reassurance that we had truly reached the end of the Wall and there was no last little bit we must do. 

We had our photos taken under the arch which proclaimed we had walked the Wall and could not help noticing it was considerably shorter than the arch where we set off. We decided that perhaps most walkers had worn a foot off their height by the time they got there.

Hadrian's Wall - Day 8 - The Wall begins to vanish

Two things were noticeable today. One was that the wall, forts, milecastles and turrets had become largely hypothetical. 

Grassy humps and bumps did no more than allude to the presence of the Wall, even while our OS map pinpointed the location of a once mighty fortress. The fortifications, built of squared stone blocks had provided a convenient quarry for local houses, churches and farm walls.

That stretches remain at all is to the credit of certain antiquarians and enlightened landowners who stopped its depletion. However, even the bits that remain are a mere stump of a wall which once, including its parapet, stood 6 metres tall.

The other thing that happened to today was that we discovered how much better we had got at walking, even though it was barely a week since we began. We had nine or ten miles to walk, since we were stopping at Wylam to see Nigel's mother. We told her to expect us mid afternoon. 

In fact, even having toured an Anglo Saxon church and searched for a coffee shop at Heddon, and then having accidentally taken a long way round to Wylam, we were still there by 12.30.

Which was a good thing, as Gill was keen for an outing, and Nigel drove us over to Blanchland for a cup of tea.

Hadrian's Wall - Day 7 - Ministry of Funny Walks

For us, the walking was becoming easier, and we had plenty of time in the breakfast room at the George Hotel to enjoy the splendour of the North Tyne.

We also enjoyed the strange view of people hobbling awkwardly along the long terrace.  

In fact, some of them looked as if EVERYTHING hurt.

'It's like being at The Ministry of Funny Walks' I whispered to Nigel.

It turned out these were people who had chosen to walk East to West (the opposite direction to us) and that the George was where you got to after two days of very intensive walking.

As for us, now practiced trekkers, we had been fit enough to take to the path again last night for a mile round trip to locate the impressive Roman bridge abutment, and the rude good luck symbol that the builders had carved on it in ancient times!

Hadrian's Wall - Day 6 - Sewingshields to Chollerford

After yesterday, the walking itself was getting easier and it was possible to enjoy the archaeology more.  

It was a day of Roman religion.

We immediately think of the great Olympian gods whom the Romans adopted from the Greeks.  However, the Romans were not snobs - they would plunder gods from ANYBODY, and take them to their hearts and worship them.

In fact, with respect to their theology, they were complete kleptomaniacs.

Yesterday, at Housesteads fort, we had visited my favourite shrine - to the three British gods the 'cucullati'.  Only British gods would be shown wearing duffel coats.

Today, we saw the Carrawburgh Mithraeum.  The worship of Mithras was a secret, male-only cult with origins in the Near East, whose terrifying initiation ceremonies were held in dark, windowless temples.  It was popular among Roman soldiers and some say it has contributed much to the more modern freemason cult.

Much more attractive to me was the nearby Well of Coventina.  She was a watery goddess of British origin and here the Romans had erected a shrine building around a spring.  We could not see any remains of this above the ground, but in the museum at Chesters Fort were some of the very many offerings made to Coventina, showing how well-loved she was.

Hadrian's Wall - Day 5 - Half Way

Today was always going to be both the best day and the worst.

It would be the worst day because it was tough walking over high crags where Hadrian's wall snaked along the impossible course of the Whin Sill, a jagged outcrop of dolerite, with the wall teetering on its parapet.

And it would be the best day too for exactly the same reason.

My knee had been twingeing the day before, so I wasn't sure I'd manage it.

I put two straps on my knee and we set out early.

When we reached the trig point at Whinshields we photographed it,  but it was only some way further on that we discovered that it had marked the half way point both in today's walking, and in the whole trip, and the highest point we would have to scale. 

My confidence returned.  My knee had held up so far. 

Only another six miles to do today.

Hadrian's Wall - Day 4 - Of water and the Wall

Today had a watery theme. 

Over the previous 3 days heavy showers have been forecast, but only a smattering of rain fell.  So we had developed a false sense of security and were unpleasantly surprised to receive a drenching as we plodded along the Wall to Birdoswald fort. 

We were soaked from head to toe, but it is the toes which matter most - wet feet are much more vulnerable to blisters. 

The Romans obviously knew this - where the Wall crossed a river, they made a mighty masonry bridge.  We saw the impressive remains of the bridge over the Irthing today and will see the abutment of the bridge over the Tyne the day after tomorrow. 

We crossed over the Irthing by a more modern bridge and spotted grey wagtails and a dipper, bobbing its white bib above the water.

We thought we were home and dry when we arrived at the bed and breakfast and our hosts offered us the use of their drying room to sort my soaked boots.  

But then we had one last burst of wetness when I failed to shut the shower door properly and flooded the bathroom!

Hadrian's Wall - Day 3 - Carlisle to Lanercost Priory

Google lied. Google said today's walk was 12 miles. It turned out to be 14.5. Had it not been for the company of our old friends, David and Carolyn Thompson, the miles would have dragged, but it was good to hear news of their children and grandchildren. 

Their huskie Sky behaved well and allowed herself to be restrained, even in the presence of curious horses, frisky bullocks and delicious sheep. 

And around Blea Tarn, we started noticing actual bits of wall sticking out of the grassy ramparts we were traversing. 

What I had not expected was that after fourteen and a half miles, I could break into a run. However, the news that the tea shop at Lanercost was about to shut spurred me into a sort of limping canter, and we just made it!

Hadrian's Wall - Day 2 - Easton to Carlisle

You would have thought that walking ten miles would be the tough part of the day, but no, the difficult bit was when we reached Carlisle and lost one another. For two hours. 

At breakfast in the B&B, a woman who had nearly finished her walk highly recommended Hadrian's Haul as a way to get our bags from A to B. Nigel was keen to keep on heaving his massive rucksack but my weak back meant that even a modest daysack was weighing heavy. 

Finally Nigel conceded, so when we reached Carlisle, I scampered off to buy such luxuries as shampoo, conditioner and body lotion, which we had been unable to carry previously.  I told Nigel which shops I was headed for and he went to get a new phone cable. 

As I darted between M&S and Boots, I thought to share my location with him via WhatsApp.  And that's when my phone ran out of juice.

To complicate matters, Nigel didn't figure it out.  He appears to have thought that I was dazzled by the bright lights of Carlisle and had gone on some wild girlie spending spree.

Anyway, we kept missing each other. Nigel reckons that CCTV footage of the town centre would show a farcical series of comings and goings as our paths criss-crossed one another. 

Only when I borrowed a stranger's phone and rang him did the drama turn back into a comedy. 

I was so exhausted that I did not have enough strength to use my new toiletries. 

But I did manage to gloat over them. 

Hadrian's Wall, Day 1- Bowness on Solway

Nigel at Euston with another famous explorer - Matthew Flinders

For a long time, Nigel and I had talked of walking the route of Hadrian's Wall.  

2022 is the 1900th year since the building of the wall, and the 60th year of our lives.

If not now, when?

We had thought the main problems with walking Hadrian's wall might be the weather, or our knees. But it turned out to be a train strike. 

We had to take a taxi to Euston.  The journey of a thousand miles may start with the first step, but this was quite an expensive first step.

In Carlisle, the transport theme developed.  We were to catch a local bus for local people which ran from Carlisle to Bowness only twice a day.  It was teetering on the brink of being axed.  

We had to run for the bus stands, only to discover they were not marked with the numbers of the services which stopped there.

A kindly woman called Fenella appraised our walking gear, correctly guessed our destination and took us under her wing.

Which was just as well, because when the bus finally arrived, it had no number on the front - luckily for us, Fenella recognised the driver, otherwise we might still be standing in Carlisle!